#anyways happy early Valentine's day guys!!!

[lobotomize-d]

The sound of your pants ripping.sfx

[nereidprinc3ss]

hourglass

in which spencer disappears from fem!reader's life entirely for three months, right as it seems they were finally about to make things official. when he comes back they reunite, all the while knowing things can't be the same as they were.

18+ (smut, angst) warnings/tags: oh god so many. NOT canon compliant in the slightest, i make shit up, softdom!spence, nipple stuff prob, fingering, oral f receiving, piv sex, unprotected sex, pet names, tara mentioned, depression, mentions of trauma cause its the prison arc duh, passing mentions of alcohol, mentions of spencer losing weight, reader mistakenly thinks spencer tried to kill himself BUT ONLY FOR A SECOND, where is diana reid, nobody knows or cares, probably filming glee, optimistic ending a/n: haven't posted smut in forever but this wip required it and the angst was so angsty i just had to finish it. it was started in jan or feb and subsequently added to and changed months apart and then edited so the writing quality varies from section to section which i apologize for. originally based on good guy by julia jacklin... also the odyssey by homer? can't really explain that one you'll just have to see for yourself anyway byeeee ilysm!!! PLS tell me if you liked it! or if you hated it! but preferably if you liked it! MWAH! wc <12k

It’s been about three months since you last saw Spencer Reid.

About three months since you had an early Valentine’s Day celebration (even though you weren’t a couple) complete with champagne (even though he doesn’t usually drink) and slow dancing (even though you swore you’d be terrible and he spent the first ten minutes laughing at you as you stepped on his toes.)

About three months since you finally settled your head on his shoulder and let the warbling vinyl carry you somewhere distant as the two of you danced slow circles on the parquet floor for what felt like hours.

You’d have liked him to stay later that night. You’d have liked him to stay all night if you were being honest with yourself, but at 11:45 he gently pulled away and told you he had to go.

“Curfew?” you joked, the corner of your mouth lifting a little and you hoped you were hiding your disappointment well.

“Actually, I’m going down to Texas for a few days to speak with one of the leading doctors in experimental Alzheimer's and dementia treatment. I’m going to see if he can get my mom into a clinical trial. I leave early tomorrow morning.”

“Oh my god, that’s amazing, Spencer! What are you doing still here? You should be at home getting ready to go!”

A rosy blush stains his cheeks and he looks down at the ground, laughing that little self-deprecating laugh of his. It makes your heart dance to see him so happy, makes you want to wrap your arms around him and never let him go so that he knows how much you absolutely adore him—but you settle for an affectionate squeeze where your hands have come to rest on his biceps.

“I wanted to see you tonight because I won’t be here for Valentine’s Day... but I still really wanted to spend it with you,” he admits meekly.

If before your heart was dancing, it is now melting.

The dreaded ‘what are we’ talk has been lurking in the dark corners of every conversation you have with each other lately—at least, in your mind it has. What you have with Spencer is not easily defined, and near impossible to explain to your friends—you act like a couple, you go out on dates, he introduces you to his team like you’re his girlfriend without ever putting it into so many words—but this validation that your pseudo-relationship might be evolving is better than any flowers he could have gotten you (although the peonies he brought will look very nice on your bedside table.)

“Four whole days... what will I do without you?” you whisper, brushing a hand along his face, and your chest aches with the heavy truth of it—despite the fact that he often is gone for stretches about that length. They don’t ever start to feel shorter.

“Well, you can start by reading that copy of The Odyssey I annotated for you.”

“Depressing,” you admit. “And a little ominous, considering you’re about to embark on a hero’s journey.”

“I think you’ll like this one,” he smiles.

You chew on your bottom lip, looking up at him as you think.

“Give me something to look forward to,” you say, earnestly.

“I—well, honestly, I just really want to kiss you and I’ve wanted to for a long time now and, you know, if that’s something you’re maybe also interested in then we could, uh, figure out a time to—”

“You want to kiss me?”

“Wh—you couldn’t tell?” Spencer says, like he can’t believe it.

As if on reflex, you lunge up and capture his lips with your own. It obviously catches him by surprise, but when you lower from your tiptoes he follows you, pulling you in closer and holding your face in his hands.

It’s too natural, too right, to be exhilarating. There’s no rush of adrenaline—it's more like stepping into a hot bath or warming your freezing hands at a fire. Like pieces clicking into place. It’s a relief.

You breathe into it, letting more and more of yourself melt against him. He keeps coming back to you deeper and deeper like a rising tide, and you want more than anything to keep getting closer to him—but then he stops. He stays close enough for you to breathe his air, but dodges your kiss gently before supplanting it with a gentle one to the corner of your mouth.

“I really have to go,” he breathes, before moving away from your mouth to kiss your forehead and speak softly against your skin. “If I don’t leave now I’ll be here all night.”

Which is exactly what you want, and the implication does little to make you want him less. But you care about him too much to be so selfish.

At some point, his hands found their way into your hair, and you gently grab his wrists.

“Incentive for you to come home.”

Nearly three months since that night.

At first when he stopped answering texts, you’d assumed he just had too much going on down in Texas. Which you could understand—you knew how stressful this situation with his mother was.

Even when four days came and went without even an alert from him that he was back in town, you thought, okay, maybe he’s been called away on a case. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s disappeared because of his work. But even then, he’d at least text you enough information so that you would know he was alive. Now, radio silence.

So you tried not to be clingy. You tried to act like an adult, to focus on school and your life outside of Spencer, but when Tara Lewis cancelled your weekly meeting due to an “unforeseen work-related emergency”you called her immediately. Tara was something of a mentor, and it was she who had connected you and Spencer to begin with. You had met the other members of his team by that point, yes, but none who you knew as well as Tara.

When she had informed you that Spencer had been arrested in Mexico and was now facing prison time for murder, you laughed.

Laughed until you realized her end of the line was silent.

Realized it was not at all a joke.

In a catatonic state of tranquility, you asked her for more details. Beyond assuring you of his innocence, she couldn’t (or more likely, wouldn’t) provide them. Asked where he was now. Asked all the right things that made sense to ask.

Then you hung up and had a panic attack because Tara said something about 25 years and you saw Spencer evaporate from your future like an apparition.

Slowly, you felt him evaporating from your past, too. Those memories from the night he left, became visions of you swaying with a ghost. Holding nothing but light between your hands as you kissed the peony air of your apartment.

He doesn’t want to see you, she had said into the phone one night, her tinny voice cutting in and out. You’re not on his list of approved visitors.

“You asked him about me?” you had whispered, curled up on top of your made bed in the dark.

I tried. I’m sorry. I’ll call you when I know more.

All your days melded together like a muddied smear of paint. Suddenly you felt you had nothing to look forward to. No anchor, no goal. Yes, a PhD... and then what?

The only thing that punctuated one 24 hour period from the next was the time you spent crying because Spencer was in prison and he didn’t want to see you and by the looks of things you may never see him again. When you weren’t crying, you were thinking about how your life was a big cosmic joke. An unfortunate statistical anomaly that didn’t mean anything to anyone else, and that you couldn’t do anything about.

That copy of The Odyssey, which wasn’t even bound and instead was a thick stack of printer paper organized by a single black clip, became something of a manifesto for you—a tome that your poured over, reading and re-reading each note in the margins, each word beautiful and imbued with meaning because you knew Spencer had selected every single one specifically for you. You traced the letters reverently, because in a way this was the last thing he had said to you—about Lattimore’s faith to the original text, Merrill’s strict use of dactylic hexameter, the stylings of Wilson and Lombardo, and how he thought you would enjoy Hammond’s prose just as much as he did.

Day by day it was becoming more prophetic than fictional, and you allowed yourself to sink into madness. You would rather be a deluded zealot than be nothing at all.

He didn’t want to see you.

He might as well have been dead, for all that you were grieving him. And you started to hate him, because he wasn’t dead, but wouldn’t do you the kindness of proving it. Like a festering wound, scratched open day after day so as not to ever heal, you had to live knowing he was less than an hour away. So no, you weren’t exactly over it. You lived day by day, waiting for the occasional call from Tara to keep you updated on Spencer, but either she didn’t want to share much about how he was doing, or he had specifically barred her from doing so, because she was always sparse on the personal side of things. That thought actually lifted your spirits, because it meant he was at least acknowledging your existence in some tiny way.

But your routine was becoming more regular, and so you staid on top of your classes and your non-Reid related meetings with Tara once a week, and you learned to dip your toes into existential dread and the oily black pool of depression every night without ever fully submerging yourself. You learned hope, because it was pretty much all you had, and the BAU had confidence that they would get Spencer out one way or another so you did too.

So you didn’t really think about it when you missed a couple of calls from Tara some evening in May. You were preparing for finals and had way too much on your plate academically to think about anything else which was a welcome relief so you fully embraced it. I’ll call her back tomorrow, you think, as you clean up from dinner before going back to the living room where your textbooks and papers are completely covering every available surface. Maybe I have no idea what I’m going to do with my life after school, but I’ll be damned if I don’t even make it that far.

Hours later, well into the night, you’d all but forgotten about the calls. A knock at the door takes you a bit by surprise, and you frown as you stand again, tugging your Georgetown sweatshirt down over your shorts as you shuffle to the entrance of your apartment. You’re not expecting anyone, so you crack the door, peering around the edge of it.

And you couldn’t even consider trying to hide that shaky inhalation of dead air when you see Spencer standing on the other side.

Surely you’re hallucinating.

Surely this man in front of you who looks like he just got back from a day of work didn’t spend three months in prison pretending you didn’t exist.

He looks the same. Hair a bit longer, maybe—and gaunter even more than is normal for him. 

But it's him.

You can’t think about the apprehensive look on his face—you can’t think about the impossibility of him being here. You can’t think at all. Without your explicit permission, your body surges forward into his, and he’s real, and alive, and warm, and he is an anachronism in the hallway as he accepts everything you pour into the embrace, doesn’t flinch when you move your arms from around his waist to loop around his neck and back to his waist again with crushing force because you just can’t get him close enough.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer mutters into your hair, I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry, he keeps saying, rubbing your back as you try to find a solid grip on the sleek material of his suit—try to gather all the pieces of him, already afraid he might fall apart and float away again.

“You—dis—disappeared,” you hiccup after an eternity, pulling away enough to look up at his pretty face. Tears blur your vision and darken the front of his jacket, bending the florescent lights so they form a kind of halo above his head.

Through the surreal haze you can see his throat bob.

“I know.”

He knows?

He knows?

You scoff.

“You have no fucking idea, Spencer. What the fuck is wrong with you? I—I'm—”

The hot anger is such a relief for a second, boiling the oceans of your despair into a wrathful, scorching fog, but as soon as you try to tell him how you feel, the barbed wire cuts into your throat again. You shove him away, skin burning where his hands had been.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks, hands hanging uselessly at his side. There’s that kicked puppy look about him—and it’s familiar, but now there’s more damage. You don’t know anything about his time in prison, you haven’t heard a damn thing, but beneath the glassy desperation in his eyes there is an unfathomable void that seems to be preventing him from being fully present—and you realize for the first time that he is different.

It chills you.

Before, you and Spencer shared everything. There wasn’t one part of his internal machinations that you didn’t understand, nothing you kept from each other. But as you study him now from a few feet away, you realize there might as well be a yawning chasm between the two of you.

He is so different.

Those eyes look deeper. No gears turning just behind the slashes of gold and brown anymore—only an endless dark corridor that goes places you will never go.

Gone is the perpetual boyish up-turn at the corner of his lips that always made him look slightly vacant in a way that you found incredibly amusing. Something you had been so fond of, even if you teased him.

He seems to have aged ten years—if not physically, then in demeanor. And now you feel like a little kid throwing a tantrum.

You cross your arms, suddenly unable to meet his eyes.

You’re embarrassed. And pissed. And relieved. Everything is worse and better. You want to fall back into his arms, but you have been jarred by the revelation that this might not be the same Spencer. It might not be the same relationship. You have no idea where you stand.

He says your name gently, with so much familiarity you’re briefly jerked into the past. It makes you wish you could look up to find him as he was three months ago. Wish this was just a bad dream. But that’s not fair to him.

“Sorry,” you mutter, studying the grey carpet fibers instead of looking at him.

“Don’t apologize,” Spencer says immediately, “you’re right. I don’t—” he clears his throat— “I’m being incredibly selfish. I shouldn’t have just shown up, I’ll just—I'll leave. I’m sorry.”

A silent moment passes.

You don’t look up as he turns and swiftly begins to move down the hall toward the stairway, leaving as quickly and silently as he had come, like a few bars of a song sighed in and away on a fleeting breeze.

Your bare feet are concretely planted, imagining him jogging down the steps and speed-walking away from your building—

And suddenly you’re sprinting after him, feeling like you might puke because Spencer was just here and you let him go again—and even though you’re still so mad and confused and hurt, the realization that he is leaving again makes the entire building spin and lurch.

“Wait!” You yell, almost wiping out as you run down the stairs and whip around corners in your slippery fucking socks. “Please, wait!”

The lobby is already empty as you spill out into it, and cold dread tightens around your neck like a fist as you shoulder your way through the double doors and right into Spencer.

“Please don’t leave again, you just—I'm sorry, I really need you to not go—” you blabber, lachrymose once more, gripping onto his forearms for dear life.

“I’m not going,” he breathes shakily. “I tried to leave because I think you were right and maybe I should and maybe it would be better for you but I can’t.”

“You can’t,” you agree, more sob than spoken word. He cups your jaw, then your cheeks, wiping tears and brushing away hair like he can’t figure out how to hold enough of you between his hands. The wild kaleidoscope of his eyes, bright and alive and real as he scans you desperately captures your attention enough to slow the tears to a trickle. He notices this and stares back, entranced.

A silent agreement is made, or maybe an inevitable fate is accepted—either way, something was set in motion three months ago and it matters to see it through. Spencer kisses you and you’re ready for it. You don’t need slow or tender. You need to feel how he feels. You need to know what he knows.

You sling your arms around his neck and he pulls you closer until you almost tip backward, chasing the bruising kiss even as you regain your footing. You want to drink him in and you do your best, breathing deeply as he kisses you deeper, backing you inside and toward the elevator.

“Is this okay?” he manages, only after blindly reaching for and mashing the up button on the wall panel.

Ideally it wouldn’t happen like this, but the world you live in obviously isn’t ideal and your personal situations as they coincide are far from ideal, so this is how it has to happen. But it’s hard to explain, and you’d rather not admit that this is so far from what you wanted for both of you and follow up with the fact that despite that you need him like you need water. So you don’t say a word as the metal doors slide open promptly. Instead you pull him in and let him press you to the chrome wall as he hits your floor button, and that very hand comes back to grab your ass like you didn’t think Spencer Reid capable of. It almost aches as his fingers dig into the flesh, but it’s a good ache because it means he’s real and he’s there.

You gasp as he hitches your leg up, arching into him. The shorts that you’re wearing leave very little to the imagination to begin with, but they become downright indecent like this.

Quickly the elevator stops and the doors hiss open. You don’t hesitate to pull Spencer by the hand down the hall. When you notice you left your door wide open, you don’t even care. Neither does he, apparently—once you’re inside he slams it shut, flipping the deadbolt while his eyes are glued to you like you’re already naked. Now Spencer is shameless in the way he drags his eyes over every curve, every place your clothes and hair are disheveled from his touch and eye-fucks you so obviously it makes your face warm. Three months ago Spencer would have at least been bashful about it when he met your eyes again, but this Spencer is far from apologetic as he pins you with his burning gaze once more. His hand stays stuck to the door like he’s holding himself back.

“Is this what you want?”

There’s an undercurrent of sorrow below the gravely arousal, like this isn’t what he wanted for the two of you either. But you’re both at the mercy of fate. This is all you have, and it might be all you can do for each other anymore. So you don’t need to say that, because he understands.

“Yeah. Yes, this is what I want.”

For just a second more he watches you from his place by the door, and there’s an unexpected softness to it. He looks at you the way he would have looked at you before. Like as long as he stays there he can entertain the idea of being that person again.

Need wins out quickly, though, and he surges forward. Immediately you’re caught in the riptide of him, helpless as he kisses you all the way to your bedroom.

He’s never been in here before. You find yourself glad it’s relatively clean—one of the pastimes you’d picked up in his absence was keeping everything tidy. It was something you could control.

A lamp glows at your bedside. You lean against the footboard of your bed, hands timidly behind your back and suddenly shy to have in him in your intimate space. Both of you set aside the heaving desperation long enough to catch your breaths, and for him to scan the room like he too is being forced to reconcile with the innate and unexpected intimacy of the moment. He cuts a harsh, dark gash in your sweetly decorated bedroom, radiating something wild and powerful and unsure of himself like a chained bull as he takes in the soft, pale bedding, the paintings and photos taped to the walls, the woven rug and the sheer drapery. His breathing slows as he studies it all—eyes eventually catching on something behind you. Looking is unnecessary. You’re sure he’s spotted the dried peonies in their ceramic vase. Or maybe the now worn stack of papers that is his Odyssey, marked up and soft around the edges from constant flipping-through.

Then Spencer looks at you, and that softness seeps in again. Along with something like... fear? Grief?

In some other universe your first time with Spencer is sweet and giggly and kind and he smiles at the decor in your room and looks around with wonder because it’s another way he gets to know you. It’s a different way to learn you from the inside.

You sense that he’s caught in between universes right now as well, painfully aware of what he would have given you that he can’t anymore.

He breathes your name like an apology, and foolishly you let a second go by in which you think he might offer you one. But he doesn’t. Not with his words, anyway. His eyes tell a different story.

“It’s fine,” you say unprompted on a whispered exhale, then a little louder as you push off the footboard, crossing the space until your hands are on his chest. You focus on his tie, not making eye contact as you rush to undo it. “It’s fine.”

He lets you do this for a few seconds before finally covering your trembling hands with his own. You still can’t meet his eyes.

“We don’t have to do—”

“No! No, please. I want to. I need—I need us to be okay.”

“Hey,” he murmurs, catching your chin and forcing you to look at him. “We are okay. Me and you are fine.”

It’s a pretty thought, but it’s not true. In fact, it’s a hideous and abject affront to the truth. Sure, maybe you’re fine in comparison to last week. Maybe anything feels fine compared to an eight by six cell. But it would be impossible for you and Spencer, for your relationship, whatever that relationship may be, to be fine. It’s especially impossible for him to make that claim, after all he did or rather didn’t do while he was gone. What you need is for him to stay anyway. What you need is to find a way to be with him, to exist with him, even when you are so clearly not fine.

“I just need you to stay,” you whisper, and he’s already nodding, wide-eyed like he’d do anything for you. You ignore all the bitter venom rising in your throat. You pretend this isn’t all happening after he cut you out of his life with a dirty switchblade. Instead you focus on his hands on yours, the familiar smell of him, which invites you to let go of each and every thought and worry. He must’ve showered before coming here, you realize. How long has he been out? What happened? 

“Okay. Okay, I can stay. What else can I do? How do I make it better?”

You sniffle and look back down.

“You can untie that for me.”

He hesitates, then nods some more, fingers working under yours to undo the tie around his neck.

“Okay.”

A moment goes by and after that final whispered word, the tension begins to build again. Spencer senses it in the way your fingertips linger on his chest and you step even closer, dragging them down to his belt. The metallic sound of it unbuckling, despite being your own doing, still manages to flip your stomach. How many times have you pictured this? When was the first time you realized you wanted it? You’re sure you haven’t stopped wanting it even once since then.

Spencer tosses the tie away and is shrugging off his jacket now, then before you see it coming he’s kissing you again, ducking down to do it. He feels taller this close up, and especially in your bedroom, where he just seems rather out of place. But you want him here. God, you want him here.

You break the kiss, forced to look down as you fumble with his belt.

“Sorry,” you gasp, embarrassed by your lack of dexterity. The light is barely sufficient to see what you’re doing, especially when he’s wearing black on black and your eyes are still bleary.

“You’re okay,” he assures you, and it’s so Spencer a fresh round of nerves electrifies the tips of your fingers. That thing is happening—the thing you’d hoped to avoid if you hadn’t lost momentum partway through, where you’re allowing your actual feelings for him to get in the way rather than getting swept up in the pathos of the moment and letting everything be easy and mindless. “Here, can I help you?”

But he doesn’t actually wait for an answer before he’s finishing off the belt for you, tugging it loose from his hips till it’s a leather coil in his hands. Your fingers brush the material and he lets you take it as if it were your prize. It’s heavier than you thought it’d be, and you just feel the weight of it in your hands for a moment, your dropped head brushing his chest.

You have a terrible feeling that if you do this now, it doesn’t mean everything will be alright. Because it can’t just go back to normal. Spencer has told you nothing of what must be an enormous trauma, and you haven’t spoken about it at all, but you sincerely doubt that after this he’s going to be ready to just jump into that committed relationship the two of you had been toying with for months before his absence. You’re almost... scared of him, now. Scared of where he’s been and what he’s endured—things you’re sure you couldn’t have taken. What that does to a person, you can’t imagine. He seems so solid and real in front of you now—but you know that’s not always enough. Maybe you’re just scared that somehow whatever he’s been through will have made him care for you less. That you were too far removed from the whole ordeal, and now you’ll never understand. If you could understand, maybe you could fix it for him. Maybe he’d stick around.

Still—even if you do end up pushing him further away in the long run—won't it have been worth it to have had him so completely, even just once?

You toss the belt to the ground, compressing all of these very complicated thoughts and feelings into a few seconds so short he can’t ask you any questions about them. Instead you find his top button, and just as you manage to undo it with relative ease he’s gently grabbing your wrists. You look up at him, immediately surrendering.

“If we’re going to do this I need you to relax a little bit.”

Gears grind in your chest. You feel need and anxiety comingling in every square inch of your body. It’s a sick buzz—a high on an empty stomach.

“I can’t,” you admit.

“Yeah, you can,” Spencer gently disagrees, slowly lowering your hands. When he’s sure you’re not going to try ripping his clothes off again, he releases, and his eyes lower to the zipper of your hoodie. His fingers follow, warm against the soft triangle of revealed skin at your chest as he grips the small piece of metal between barely shaking fingers. “You can.”

You match his eyeline, breathing shallowly and watching as he slowly drags the zipper down. You wonder if that sound has haunted his fantasies the way the sound of his belt has haunted yours. If he’s seen this hoodie on you and wondered what’s underneath, staring at you and daydreaming during movie night with you none the wiser.

Both of you have your eyes glued to the span of skin as the zipper parts. Spencer stalls with the zipper at your sternum, just below the band of your bra.

Right. No shirt.

You look up and find his eyes already on you, tinged with a curious kind of humor.

“I wasn’t expecting guests.”

The words come out shy. Spencer’s chuckle has its own nervous airy quality as he resumes tugging on your zipper, leaning down until your noses bump.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

Then he kisses you again, a little sweeter now. Sweet enough to give you butterflies and for them to flutter right out of your stomach and spill from your lips in a little whimper against his.

It comes as a surprise when he pushes the fabric from your shoulders without looking or asking. Not that you’d have said no—you're just underprepared for how assertive he is in this foreign context.

Left just in your flimsy shorts and your thin bra, you feel quite exposed—but Spencer’s hands are as demanding and hungry as his mouth. They skim up your sensitive sides and sweep lower, suggesting less proper placement over your ass and pulling at your bottoms until you gently put a stop to their wandering.

“Wait. We’re... we’re uneven.”

It’s a struggle to get any words out at all when he keeps chasing your lips, nipping at you like he physically can’t stand not kissing you, but they catch his attention and he laughs airily, pulling back to let his gaze pour over your less clothed form. It lingers and catches and lights you up everywhere it touches, drops of heat soaking into your skin and making you feel all fuzzy and needy.

“We are,” he acknowledges, tone low and colored with the faintest smile. “You’re a lot prettier without your clothes on than I am.”

“I don’t believe you.”

The challenge comes immediately and thoughtlessly. Spencer’s golden eyes flash up to yours. He’s breathing a little harder than usual.

“You want me to show you what I mean?”

If that means getting him naked, then yes, absolutely.

You nod, but rather than immediately stripping, he takes your hand and holds his own open next to it. A thick pink scar bisects some pretty significant palmistry lines, but you don’t mention that. Instead you swallow—your thoughts, your words, your nausea.

“That’s new.”

You wonder how you hadn’t noticed it earlier.

He nods.

“A lot is new.”

It sounds almost like he’s challenging you—there's a kind of tremulous force in his voice, despite the perpetual softness there, like he’s inviting you to say it’s ugly. And you realize he’s referring to more than just the glowing scar cutting an asteroid trail against the flesh of him palm. The scars he obtained in prison must form a constellation over his body.

“I don’t care. I wanna see you.”

Spencer swallows, cupping your face with the scarred hand once more. You can’t feel it against your cheek but you know it hasn’t gone away.

“I’m sure you think you do,” he permits, and that’s where the conversation ends for the moment—with his hand on your face and his lips back on yours. “For now why don’t you let me worry about you?”

Obediently, you breathe, “okay.”

This is, for whatever reason, amusing to him. The brief levity dies as quick as it comes like a snuffed-out brush fire as soon as he lets his hands fall back down to your hips.

“I want... I want to give you slow. But...”

But slow is for people who didn’t lose three months of their life. Slow is for people who don’t know what it’s like to be starving. Slow is not for the desperate.

You understand the feeling.

“I don’t need slow.”

You’ll let him use you up like quick-burning fuel if that’s what he needs. You’ll go as fast and as bright and as hot as he tells you.

“But you want slow,” he murmurs, a secret acknowledged into your own waiting mouth. You’d keep it there forever. You could be the object he hides his soul in. “I know you do. You deserve to get what you want.”

“I can go fast. I want whatever you can give me.”

Spencer’s shuddering exhale is like a drug, dizzying as you inhale it and your eyes flutter at the high, pressed head-to-head with him. For so long you’ve needed him so badly. It’s overwhelming to have him now, all over you. If only your walls could breathe him in the way you are, if this room could remember what it feels like to hold him the way you will, if any inanimate object could bear witness to how you’ll give yourself, any part of yourself, over to him, so willingly.

“I’m going to try.” Spencer’s voice is hoarse as he walks backward to the bed, taking you by the hips as he goes. “I want to do it right. I want to do this the way I... the way I imagined it, before...”

Now he’s sitting, and you’re standing between his legs as he finds the clasp of your bra and undoes it, his fingers a comforting pressure where they ghost down the slope of your back. Your heart is pounding at the confession, at the way his tongue darts over his bottom lip and his fingertips journey back up to your straps, looking up at you with haloed irises as if he’d find anything other than the most dangerous kind of smoldering devotion in your eyes—the kind cult-leaders seek and spend years nurturing, and he’d earned with a mere brush over your bare skin.

The fabric slides down your arms, and as it falls to the floor, you watch something like despair flash-flood his eyes. It is a deep, distinctly human grief. The ineffable kind where something is almost too beautiful; so perfect it offends the mortal senses because it should be permanent, but nothing is, and the clash of divine beauty with unstoppable time which oxidizes copper and covers marble with vine is almost as grotesque as metal rending delicate flesh. It is the grief that drove the first poet to write and the first parents to press their baby’s painted hands to the walls of a cave. It is the desire to do the impossible—to capture ephemeral perfection and make it eternal, and the knowledge that it is hopeless. You recognize it because you’ve felt it for him.

“I thought about you all the time,” he whispers, doesn’t bother calling you beautiful but you don’t mind because he’s telling you with his hands and his eyes and the waver of his voice. “When I was gone, I thought about you—”

You’re just as quiet, just as soft.

“Don’t, Spencer.”

He doesn’t get to tell you about when he was gone. Not now. Not after he acted like you didn’t exist.

“Okay.” He swallows the things he’d wanted to tell you like you choked on the things you needed to tell him for three months. “I’m sorry.”

But his hands—his hands are perfect over your waist and his lips are perfect where they kiss your ribs like they’re his homeland. You could forgive a thousand wrongs for each kiss he puts to your skin. Light from the full moon stretches over the room like a blessing from the cosmos, and you have every intention of making the most of that gift, how the silver gilds the planes of his face and highlights curls like they were carved, and invites you to search for something in each shadow.

Some of his kisses land over the sensitive skin of your breasts though you doubt he has much intention or that there is any sort of end-goal with the trail he blazes—in fact, you have to root your hand in his hair and pull gently back when he doesn’t seem to realize that he’s making you wait again. His eyes are glassy and cheeks slightly pinkened—you weren’t expecting this wave of fondness to knock you on your ass but here you are, falling all over again.

“You don’t have to go that slow.”

A slow smile splits the heart of his mouth at your bashful tone and he’s emboldened to bring his hands higher for a moment, thumbs brushing particularly delicate though not downright indecent spots. Nonetheless, your breath catches.

“Impatient girl,” he scolds, and though it’s lighthearted it still inspires heat to dance across your face. Oh, I think I’ve been plenty patient, you itch to say, but you bite it back because it’s only sad and true and unkind.

Still, he gives you the beginning of what you want, really only the tip of the enormous iceberg that is your desire for him, by slipping his thumbs into the waistband of your shorts and tugging them down. His hands slide up the fronts of your thighs, tracing the trim of your underwear, and you’d swear he’s not even breathing. The moment one of his hand loops behind your knee and pulls forward until it’s pressed to the mattress and you’re half-kneeling, half standing, desire begins to truly cloud your mind. Manhandling never seemed like Spencer’s style, but when paired with how softly he reveals your hip, pulling gently down on the fabric of your underwear just to admire you up close, you don’t mind it.

More kisses are littered over your stomach, and he takes you by surprise a second time with a quick maneuver landing you on your back and him on top of you.

“I wasn’t doing you justice with my imagination,” he murmurs against your mouth. “I couldn’t have known.”

“Couldn’t have known what?” you pant as he shamelessly digs his fingers into the plush of your ass. You almost hope it bruises.

“How pretty you would be,” he coos like he means it, and you dissolve, slipping through his fingers like sand in an hourglass. “You were holding out on me.”

It’s a tease, not at all serious, but you manage to hit him with a, “Was not, asshole,” and he chuckles, placating your little hurt with another sticky kiss, and you get another disorienting glimpse of some other timeline where you’re both a little less damaged. Where it’s a little easier.

But in this timeline, his touch becomes starving and ragged and urgent, and you accept the drag of his thumb up your thigh and between your legs, gasping when he runs his knuckles up the center of you. This touch is metal on screeching metal. It does not pretend to be anything more than what it is—brute, powerful, executed to elicit sensation. You get the sense that Spencer’s never touched anyone this honestly, and while you do envy the girls who got to have him gentler, you’ll take this as the compliment that it is. A kind of vulnerability that is nearing primal.

His lips, though—always his lips—are kind when they brush and land on your skin guided by some invisible map. A dip down your neck and chest and then a plunge, his tongue dragging over your hips, chasing the fabric of your underwear as he almost pulls it off and then reroutes, making room for himself between your legs and pushing lace aside to mark the hinge of your inner and upper-most thigh. Your chest heaves and you don’t dare move for fear he’ll stop leaving signs of himself on your body and you won’t be able to reassure yourself that it was real and he was here and it was not another dream.

Because something in you knows, if only consciously recognizing it for the first time now, that he will disappear again. That this may be your only chance.

The desire to make the ephemeral eternal. An impossibility.

He’s clearly losing himself to something, eyes shutting blissfully. You wonder when the last time he let his guard down even a  little was. You’re okay with being the thing he gets lost in, even if you’re not exactly okay with him—something you are becoming more acutely aware of as each touch makes a part of you want to cry. Maybe you still have some things in common. A strange pain that doesn’t quite feel like it belongs to you, for one thing.

You slam back into your body as his nose nudges against you through fabric, and his lips catch on cotton as he drags himself up, eventually settling a kiss against the little bow at the waist of your underwear. There he stays, eyes closed, mouth pressed to you.

“Is this okay?”

You swallow, buzzing. Is this really what he wants? After everything?

“You don’t have to...”

“But is it okay with you?”

Nothing more than an airy whisper, you reply, “Yes, if that’s what you want.”

Being emotional at this point seems wrong, but it’s difficult to ignore the fact that you have thought about this before and it’s finally happening but it’s not exactly as you’d imagined it. There is an indelible sadness to it, to the way he’s so hungry for you because he’s been deprived, to the desperation with which he touches you because he’s had everything taken from him.

For a moment, before he tugs your underwear down, he pauses, and you wonder if he’s freezing one moment in time, this moment, and grieving all the other ways it could’ve been, and accepting that this is the way it is going to be. You are.

These higher realms of thought abandon you as he finally pulls the last barrier down your legs and encourages you to spread them further. You don’t have time or energy to be embarrassed, not even by his staring, or the way his eyes dart up to yours and back down again, wide and shining, as if to say, have you seen yourself? Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?

All you feel is the lack of him on you, the pull to have him closer so strong it’s almost sickening because he could be gone at any second. Maybe he understands that because he doesn’t waste anymore time before he’s kissing the most sensitive part of you. The drag of his tongue has you loosing a shuddering cry.

His mouth wanders, making connections you wouldn’t have realized the value of until you feel them on your skin. Your hips buck as he traces you and you’re unable to stop yourself from tangling your hands in his hair. Speech fails you—hell, you can hardly breathe as you watch his with a furrowed brow and parted lips, only expelling air from your lungs in the form of little cries and gasps and failing to hold your hips down to the bed.

The tip of his tongue teases around your entrance and he catches your leg as your foot rises off the bed, slinging it over his shoulder and consuming you more fervently until you have no choice but to moan though you’ve never been one for theatrics. Nobody has done this for you like he’s doing it for you. Locks of hair fall in front of his face and you hold them back for him, shuddering as he shifts his weight and presses the tip of his finger to your cunt.

“Ah—please,” you manage, your first words since he started. Spencer groans against you and the sound is so wonderfully unexpected, so much better than in your dreams. You cant your hips up in further invitation, chirping as he takes it, pushing two fingers into you at once. Your eyes screw shut and you bite back a whine at the slight stretch, unconsciously writhing your hips either to get further away or take him deeper, you’re not sure.

Spencer pulls back, kissing your hips and thighs and pumping his fingers very slowly as you adjust.

“’M sorry,” you pant, “it’s been awhile, I...”

“Don’t apologize,” Spencer says like it’s simple, his own breath coming quicker. “How’re you feeling? Need me to stop?”

“No! No, it feels really good, I feel good.”

He holds your burning gaze, matching it with his own, and his hair is tousled and his cheeks are flushed as he continues to move his hand.

“Yeah?”

“...Yeah.”

This little show of obedience, of call and response, has him smiling before he occupies his mouth with something else once more. It’s a different smile than you’re used to from him, but you decide you don’t at all mind it.

Like that, with his tongue and fingers working tirelessly, your orgasm comes on quickly. The feeling is rare but not entirely foreign, and in that brief moment of utter disconnect between your brain and reality, of sheer white-hot pleasure, you don’t feel you’re missing out on anything at all. How could you be, when you are here and Spencer is here and for a moment all your neurons are lighting up and flashing neon? How could there be anything more to life than the searing feeling of him slowly withdrawing his fingers from you, than your hips between his hands like he’s cradling the world, and his lips, indiscriminate with where they kiss because every part of you is worthy of attention?

You’re reeling, and your legs are gelatinous as he so affectionately sucks the darkest mark yet onto your inner thigh like a parting gift, like he’s signing his trembling work. If you could clamp your legs shut around the almost painful aftershocks you would, but he’s climbing back up your body, so all you can do is wriggle against him and release delayed, stunted little moans. He stops to kiss your neck before he makes it to your mouth and drinks down all your sounds until you’re gentle and pliant for him like you haven’t been yet.

His voice is soft and sympathetic when he speaks. “Better?”

Wordlessly you nod, both comforted and unsettled by how well he knows you. What, exactly, has been made better, you’re not sure. Not trust. You don’t trust him anymore. Something cheaper, but temporarily effective. A sense of permanence, maybe, however fleeting it may be. You’ve completed something with him now, and he’s still here, still sweet.

He looks into your eyes, then, for a moment—and there is just enough light in the room for you to tell yourself that the shadows dancing there as he looks at you are love.

They morph as you watch into haunting, wild hunger. Pained even now.

He sits up abruptly and so do you, scooting back against your headboard and pulling your knees to your chest to protect your pounding heart as Spencer takes you in with darting eyes and quick breaths. His fingers find the collar of his shirt and he begins to unbutton.

“I need you to remember it’s all going to heal.”

He swallows, and you hardly have the wherewithal to study the way he unbuttons his shirt, a way he exists in the world that you had previously not been privy to. The words are too distracting.

“What?”

Sometimes he reminds you of a deer, with those big brown eyes that can’t help betraying anxiety. Moreso in those old pictures he’d shown you from his early days at the BAU—but it shines through occasionally even now. It’s reassuring to know that something inside of his has remained soft.

“Just...” his fingers don’t stop at their task, and you come to the disturbing realization that his knuckles are bruised. “Please don’t freak out, alright?”

Your mouth goes dry, eyes glued to the lengthening span of revealed skin.

And before he even has his shirt fully undone, something isn’t right.

He’s like a Pollack of bruises—starbursts and watercolor blots of discoloration blooming over his side and stomach.

You’re glad the light is off for two reasons: one, being that you don’t think you could handle the bruising in all its glory, and two, you hope the look of horror painted on your face is at least partially obscured from Spencer.

But you can’t. You simply don’t have the gas in the tank to freak out, as he’d said—at least not externally. Those bruises shouldn’t be there, but 96 days is a long time to be gone.

You drag your eyes back to his—nervous, deeply insecure and mistrustful. A deer. Just like those pictures of a 24 year old Spencer in an FBI jacket that was too big for him.

It’s enough to have you scooting on your knees across the mattress to him. Those big eyes stay glued to you as you draw near, falling as you carefully push open his shirt, cautious not to bump any tender spots as it falls to the bed. A flash of white gauze wrapped around his forearm that makes your stomach flip. How? You want to ask. Why?

He doesn’t seem to know what you’re going to do, and neither do you, until you’re grabbing his hands, bruised knuckles and all, and just... holding them for a minute.

“I lost weight,” he says quietly, as if that’s the most shocking thing about his current appearance, though it is noticeable.

“You’re still pretty.”

He smiles at this—a true Spencer Reid smile. Flattened lips, eyes tinged silver with sadness, voice quiet and anxious and wavering.

“I didn’t have a lot to spare.”

A moment goes by.

“I’m not going to ask you about them,” you promise, though you care so much and you want to know but you already understand that he won’t want to tell you.

Another moment. It doesn't surprise you to watch the shiny vulnerability in his eyes to freeze over completely. But he squeezes your hands once in thanks, and you know it’s still the same Spencer.

“Lie down.”

Oh. Right.

This.

You do as he says, taking a deep breath to try and exhale the concern twisting your stomach like a poison. Somehow your room feels so unfamiliar, so new with him in it. Even the whorls on your ceiling look different as you study them, trying to time the pattern of your breathing with the pattern of the paint and plaster and not let the sound of Spencer further undressing quicken your heartrate too much.

Soon he’s coaxing your legs apart again, reverently, and kneeling between them, studying every part of you—lingering not on the parts you’d expect. He traces the scar on your knee with his thumb, follows a line down your thigh to the freckle on your hip. The scrutiny is unnerving and warms you everywhere. Perhaps he senses the microscopic clench of your thighs as you imagine pushing them together, if he weren’t in the way.

“You alright?” He asks, still stroking your hip. Tender again. It’s so hard to keep up.

“I...”

Suddenly your heart beat is a deafening echo in your own ears. The tide of your breathing is too powerful, too in and out and whooshing, leaving you always too empty or too full but never comfortable.

Maybe he’s changed, and he’s harder to know now, but he is the same Spencer. He is the Spencer you’d fallen in love with. The hard part is knowing that now you may never get a chance to tell him that. You don’t know if he’d be able to hear it.

There are things you can’t have with him anymore. Not now, at least. Maybe not ever. But you can have this. It will be different, but you’d rather him be different and here than the same and only in your memory.

You swallow.

“I’m good.”

Tangling your hand in his hair once more, you pull him down into a kiss. It’s hesitant, at first—maybe he can taste your thoughts, where they’d been balancing just on the tip of your tongue. But the uncertainty fades and he kisses you deeper, harder, in a way that is hard to keep up with. You like the messy overwhelm of his lips, teeth, tongue. That’s the only way he knows how to want you.

When you go to wrap your leg around his waist he catches it, running his hands over the soft plush of your thigh. The hard line of him presses against you like memory foam and you gasp and he breathes it in deeply as your brain short-circuits, as you realize this is really going to happen, that you’re going to have him like you’ve never had him before and in ways you’ve only imagined and immediately felt ashamed for.

“Spencer,” you whisper. He ducks to leave open-mouthed kisses along your neck and your eyes flutter shut, craning your neck but not losing sight of your objective as you reach down blindly. When you find what you’re looking for he freezes, groans against your neck at the same time as you breathe the tiniest whimper. Just in your hand he feels impossible, hot and imposing and hard. Your heart palpitates.

Without thinking, you angle your hips up and encourage him closer, until the tip of him is smearing through your folds, and you both go utterly silent like the breath had been stolen right from your lungs. The moment crystallizes, time around you hardening like preserved amber to keep you frozen there forever.

And then he rolls his hips, catching the underside of his cock on the crux of you, and then he does it again, and you choke out a moan and so does he, and it’s beyond perfect—it's nirvana, more than you could ever have conceived of, with his weight pressing you into the mattress, arms caging you in, his heavy breaths hot against your neck and vice versa as you twine together like serpents on a rod, your foot floating in the air as you widen your legs to make more room for him.

And you’re not even fucking yet.

“Oh my god,” you whine, just for him, barely audible under the heavy cloak of night, the thickened air in your bedroom and the sound of panting and fabric shifting. It’s like your heart is trying to reach through your chest to his own where they’re pressed together—that is how hard it’s beating.

Spencer only breathes a long, low curse and shifts so he can grasp himself. Your fingers drift down the shaft of him as he slots himself at your entrance, notching half an inch in and you hold your breath, and you brace yourself—and then he’s kissing you again, but gentler this time. Reassuring. You soften, you can’t not, releasing all your air in a soft gust through your nose, and then he’s pushing in.

Your lips part at the stretch as it fuzzes your mind, but he stays right there, nose pressed to your nose, lips ghosting over your own. He’s not going anywhere, you think, and you’re glad for it, when it burns ever so slightly, and the tiniest whine escapes your open mouth.

“Shh,” he soothes immediately, low and soft, only fractionally louder than you had been. “You’re okay.”

Spencer. Your Spencer.

For a moment, you’re living in that alternate universe. The kinder one. The flash of pain you feel then has nothing to do with the way he’s opening you up.

This is the closest you have ever been, and in some strange way, the furthest apart.

Together, fingers brushing, you guide him until he settles at not quite your deepest point. You can feel that he’s not giving you everything yet, but you’re okay with that, as you adjust to the full feeling. Spencer again senses your desire to close your legs against the deep intrusion, and gives you the best he can by encouraging you to wrap your legs around him.

“Good girl,” he whispers tenderly, nudging at your jaw with his nose and dragging kisses along the ridge of it. Your stomach flips at the moniker and your brain turns to warm sludge as your eyes flutter shut. It makes you feel all light-headed and you flutter around him. Spencer chuckles into the junction of your neck and shoulder and the vibrations send a chill down your arching spine. “I thought you might like that one.”

“Mhm.”

“Mhm. How are you? You okay?”

“’M ready.”

“You’re ready?” His tone is dripping sarcasm and faux-disbelief as he pulls back the slightest bit only to push right back in deeper, this time. Your toes curl, one thigh sliding higher up his waist as you cling to him.

“Fuck,” you manage, a pitiful, high pitched curse tossed to the wind. He echoes the sentiment.

“Oh, my god,” he groans, continuing with that slow pace, “you feel so good, angel.”

You grapple at his back, searching for purchase as your brow knits. “Faster.”

This inspires another breathy chuckle, but he obliges, and you cry out softly. It’s almost unreal, your head buried against his neck, drunk on his scent and the drag of him like a shock felt in the far reaches of your body, again and again.

There’s nothing you can say that will accurately demonstrate what you’re feeling, so you elect not to speak, to remain silent and try to get a grip on this cacophony of sensation and emotion. But it’s too much to be alone with. You feel you have to get it out, to seek understanding. You can’t do it alone.

“Spencer.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t know...” the sentence trails off into a gentle keen. He moves to kiss you, speaking against your lips.

“You don’t know?”

Shyly you shake your head. Spencer sighs wistfully.

“Do you know how much I missed you?”

It’s like he can sense your need for comfort. For something grounding.

And while this topic was off-limits earlier—you're softer now. The stone walls that form your boundaries have been chipped away and lowered.

Spencer continues unprompted.

“I thought about you every day. Every night while I was falling asleep. You were always on my mind, angel girl.”

You whine. Whether it’s pleasure or distress is anyone’s guess—including your own.

“You were gone so long,” you whisper, eyes shut.

At this, Spencer slows again, and the tension that was building settles back to a simmer.

“I know. I wish I could—I wish I could change that. But I’m here, okay? I’m right here with you.”

Then he makes sure you feel every last inch, and it takes your breath away. If your thoughts were any more coherent, they’d be something along the lines of: but for how long? How long until you leave again?

“You’re here.”

You say it like a mantra, once out loud, and then again and again in your head, timed with every clash of your hips. With each repetition he becomes more real. Every little ache, every tingling, head-emptying brush against that most sensitive spot inside proves to you that he could not be any closer. This can’t be faked. It can’t be another dream to wake up in tears from.

“You’re here,” you gasp as it hits you, as it truly sinks in.

“I’m here,” he breathes.

There’s so much you want to say—three months of words you need him to hear, of things you need to talk to him about, things you need to yell at him for and things you can only say crying in his arms and things you can only say laughing or whispering or drunk or half-asleep—and in this moment you can’t manage any of it. Every word condenses into one drop of salt water, drifting away from your eye and down your cheek. Spencer doesn’t tell you to stop crying. He only kisses the tear away, and murmurs I’m here I’m here I’m here over and over again against your skin until he’s not even speaking it out loud anymore. But you feel it. With every brush of his lips, every breath, every movement, you feel it.

Soon he’s adjusting his angle, gradually picking up the pace but retaining that unforgiving depth, and your nails bite into the skin of his back as your jaw drops. Spencer hisses, pressing impossibly closer.

“I’m sorry!” you squeak.

“Do it again.”

“Wh—what?”

“Please,” he begs, low and hot against your jaw, just beneath your ear. “Do it again, honey.”

Honey.

You’d do anything for him if it meant he calls you that again.

When he shifts his weight to one arm and reaches down between your bodies to play with your aching clit in exactly the right way, you don’t really have a choice. You arch and moan wantonly enough to feel embarrassed as your nails scratch down his back. At the same time he’s making noises of his own, and you almost feel guilty for marking him up like this only you think he likes it. The most perfect and troubling tension is building in your core, so taut you almost fear the inevitable rebound when it snaps. But you’re driven to be exactly what Spencer needs right now, and to let him try and be what you need. Even if it scares you. Even if you’re not sure how.

Spencer groans, head tucked to the bend of your shoulder. “I’m not gonna last.”

Any response you might’ve been about to muster is annihilated by a sudden, deep bolt of pleasure.

“’M gonna cum,” you mewl like it’s a secret.

“Are you?” he asks, coming up breathless. If your eyes were open, you’re sure you’d see him above you.

“Mhm.”

“Look at me. Look at me.”

It is unmistakably a command—one you fight to follow.

You cry out as you meet the intensity of his gaze, those shadowy corridors suddenly ablaze and alive. They are not unending, like you’d thought. They are a door thrown open to let the light in, or maybe to let the fire out. They’re open in this moment for you.

No more words are spoken after that—you cum hard, gasping as you fall and spin. Spencer follows very shortly after, like he was holding it together just for you, and your eyes are still locked though everything is a bit bleary.

“Fuck,” you whine as he continues to fuck you for as long as he can, despite your writhing hips, but you’re entranced by him, unable to look away now that you’re hooked. Until he slows to a halt, glances down at your mouth, and you just have time to pray that he’ll kiss you before he does. You whimper against his lips—a plea for understanding. A plea for him to stay, even though this is over. He kisses back so soft and sweet it’s like he can read your mind. Echoes of I’m here I’m here I’m here still buzz across your skin. His eyelashes tickle your cheek. Your heart stops beating quite so quickly, melting and warm like the rest of your body.

Soon the kissing ceases and you’re just breathing together, trapped and faced with the knowledge that it must end just the same as you had waited for it to start.

Eventually the air between you becomes mostly carbon dioxide and you let your head fall to the side, dizzy and giggling breathlessly as you nearly avoid asphyxiation. Spencer laughs too, letting his head fall to your shoulder once more, and you finally let your eyes flutter closed. To do something as simple as laugh with him again is its own small euphoria. It’s unexpected, and a soft landing once all that tension breaks underneath your combined weight.

It can’t last forever, you know that well. But the slow fade of it makes the next parts a little easier.

Spencer presses a kiss to your neck. “Is your bathroom through that door?”

You hum a confirmation and are only slightly disheartened when he pulls out and rolls off of you. You’re further disturbed when you see there’s gauze around his thigh, matching what’s around his arm, and you wonder how you missed that. Spencer scoops up his clothing and disappears into the adjoining restroom, assuring you he’ll be right back and leaving you alone with your thoughts and the whorls on the ceiling which have seemingly shifted into entirely new constellations.

He leaves the door cracked which is oddly reassuring—the sliver of warm light and the sound of the sink running. Only a few moments pass before he’s returning clad in boxers once more to sit on the edge of the bed, pushing away the sheet you’d just pulled over your chest and pulling one of your legs over his lap. Your face warms as he brings a washcloth between your thighs. As soon as he glances up at you and catches your eye you’re looking back to the ceiling.

“I should’ve asked first,” he says quietly as he cleans up the mess he’d made of you.

You speak just as softly, like you’re both afraid of disturbing some peace, of waking some sleeping giant. “It’s okay. I would’ve told you if I didn’t want it.”

His reticence, his unreadable face, make you nervous.

When he’s done, he rises to toss the dirtied cloth in the laundry bin, and with his back to you (as scratched up as it might be) you feel braver.

“Are you gonna, like... hate me now?”

It was a mistake. That’s clear by the way he turns around, brow knit deeply and grimacing slightly like even the suggestion offends him.

“Am I going to hate you?”

Again you pull the sheet up, and again you look away, studying the pattern of moonlight stretching out over the floor and scooting to make room for him when he steps in it.

“Not hate, I just...” the bed dips beside you and you are indescribably glad he’s not immediately running out the door. “I’m not dumb. I know what this was.”

He pulls you into him and you settle against his chest. It feels good. “I never thought you were dumb.”

This is your first real conversation since he’s gotten back, you realize. And how quickly you’re falling into familiar patterns, familiar syntactical beats. You know when to speak. You know when to bite your tongue and keep him talking.

The silence goes on longer than you’re used to. Maybe he got good at not speaking while he was away.

Eventually your eyes wander, falling to the white strip over his thigh where it is parallel to yours on the bed, only over the sheets.

“What happened?”

You said you wouldn’t ask, but that was then, and you’re upset again. You almost want to hurt him. To piss him off. You don’t know.

But it doesn’t work.

“Do you really want to know?” There’s a note of something heavy in his voice, and you look up at him. It’s a privilege to have him this close—his beauty is a constant surprise that you’d become unaccustomed to over the months. You say nothing, and he takes that as the yes that it is. “I... I did it to myself.”

He may as well have reached down your throat and grabbed for fucking heart for all its clenching. Tears well almost immediately, though they’ve been waiting in the wings all night.

“What? Did you—were you trying to—”

His eyes widen.

“No! No, honey, no.” You wilt as he gathers you closer, a deeply confused frown still contorting your features, too heartbroken even to cling to him, or to appreciate the ease with which honey slips past his lips again. “No. I was—it's complicated. I didn’t—I wasn’t trying to hurt myself, but I had to—I had to do it before someone else did something worse.”

The bruises covering his abdomen.

You sniffle and pull back enough to look up at him tearfully. “Why would they want to hurt you?”

Mist fills his eyes even as he’s looking down at you, a layer of separation, as if he’s two places at once. Even as he goes to brush your hair behind your ear, to stroke your cheek.

“I’m... not... the same, as I was.” It’s not an answer to your question—but it’s the beginning of the answer to a question you’d been too afraid to put into words.

“Don’t say that,” you beg, because you know where this is going. He keeps smoothing your hair like it’ll make this easier.

“But it’s true,” Spencer says gently, the slightest waver betraying his own emotion.

“You’re just going to leave again.”

And you’re losing to the tears.

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you will,” you insist, like a child crying to a parent come to comfort them after a bad dream.

“Not right now. Right now I’m here.”

I’ll stay until you fall asleep again.

For now, maybe that has to be enough. 

You cry on his shoulder. He kisses your head and doesn’t tell you to stop. 

Eventually, you sniff and wipe your eyes. 

“We were so close. Before you… we were almost there.”

You’re sure of it. You’re sure that if he hadn’t gone when he did you would’ve been a real couple. You would’ve told him you loved him. 

“We’ll get there again,” he promises, rubbing your arm. “I just… I need a little bit of time. I think you do too. But we’re going to get there again.”

Maybe it will never be like it was. 

But as so often is the case—Spencer is right. Difference doesn’t mean it won’t ever be good again. 

You have to believe that, just as you had to believe you’d see him again. 

You look to The Odyssey on your bedside table. 

The sun has been obliterated from the sky, and an unlucky darkness invades the world. 

But the sun has a habit of rising, time and time again, after the longest nights, after the darkest storms. 

You feel the beginnings of its rise, see the golden tips of it lighting the room as he holds you. Even now. 

[familyvideostevie]

it's your turn for choosing

this was born out of a prompt request from my dear, dear, @softlyspector. this is for you, becca!

getting asked out via a smudgy scribble on a coffee cup | valentine's day prompts

joel miller x reader

summary/warnings: joel stops by your coffee shack every day. it's not your fault you're a little in love with him because of it. | modern au, fluff, flirting, jesse and cat and ellie cameos, game!joel in my head. i have not been a barista so sorry to all baristas if this reads wildly off-base. | 5.6k

a/n: it's giving rom-com! happy valentine's day. a bit different from my usual fare but hopefully it makes your heart warm. love u. thank u always to @macfrog and @bageldaddy for your eyes.

___

7:32 am. It’s helpful in this line of work to know exactly when you’re fucked. 

The espresso machine has been on the fritz all week and despite how much you want your current method of fixing it to work – banging a fist on the top until it stops wheezing – all signs point to today being a very bad day indeed. 

You’ve only been open for two hours. 

Here for three, awake for four. God, you’re tired.

Anyway – you’re fucked. And there’s nothing you can do about it. 

You call the time of death on the machine and search for something you can write on.

The Zone – a stupid name, but you can’t be bothered to change the sign that came with the place – is a coffee shop that sits between towns. 

Your coffee shop. 

It's more shack than shop, not really a zone of anything, just an order window and a five-drink menu. It's the kind of place that appears like a mirage for tourists right before they get on the highway at an ungodly hour and serves as a quick stop for everyone else. You open earlier than any other place around to get the truckers and the farmers and close when you stop being able to keep your eyes open.

The faded brown clapboard building is no bigger than an RV. The paint is chipped and the roof is a too-bright shade of green and you serve your drinks and the occasional sweet treat when you can get a good deal off of the baker two towns over through a window. It’s not a fancy chain, it’s not a drive-thru. You’ve got a bathroom and a few rickety cafe tables and chairs and no fucking common sense since you like it. 

You even love it, some days.

And the craziest part is that it works. Even on mornings like this one, when your espresso machine breaks during the lull between rushes and your part-time help calls in sick and you’ve spilled coffee all over your apron twice – it works. 

You tear off the lip of a cardboard box and write in big block letters: NO ESPRESSO TODAY. Maybe Tess, the baker, knows someone who can fix it. She knows everyone.

“Fuck you, you piece of junk,” you say. You give the machine another smack for good measure. 

Someone clears their throat and you whirl around, makeshift sign in hand. 

You’ve been doing this long enough that a handsome customer doesn’t phase you, but the man standing at your order window makes your stomach swoop for just a second.

“Morning,” you say, summoning your smile. “Hold on a sec, let me just –”

You lean out the window and wedge the piece of cardboard against the napkin holder on the ledge.

The man’s gaze drops to read. You take the opportunity to look at him. 

He’s tall and broad – if you had to guess, you’d say he works on one of the farms around here. He’s tan, dark hair threaded through with grey. His arms are crossed and you wish he wasn’t wearing a jacket so you could see his forearms. His denim shirt is undone at the top and you fixate on the chorded column of his throat, on the teasing glimpse of chest hair underneath.

The guy looks tired. 

Bone-tired, the kind of exhaustion you see when you look in the mirror. It comes from hundreds of early mornings and late nights, from hours on your feet and plenty of worry. He’s got lines at the corners of his eyes and a few around his mouth and you find yourself hoping they’re from laughter. 

“No espresso,” he reads, slow and unhurried. His drawl fits in with most of the folks around here, but you’re sure you haven’t seen him before. You’d remember. 

“Hope that doesn't scare you off,” you say. “Still got everything else.”

“Everything else being…” He glances at the chalkboard that serves as your menu.

DRIP COFFEE. LATTE. CAPPUCCINO. TEA. HOT CHOCOLATE. All written in your blocky hand in white paint. 

“Three options.”

Trial and error have taught you that simple works best. You’ll make anything people ask for, so long as you know how and have the supplies, and if they’re nice about it you won’t charge too much extra.

“Can I get you one of those three options?”

You’re not trying to rush him, but the next wave of people is bound to show up any minute.

“Black coffee will do,” he says. His mouth tugs up at the corner into a smirk that makes your face feel hot. “If you have that.”

“Thank you for taking pity on me,” you say, going for teasing and missing the mark by a mile. You just sound tired and genuine. “You just made my morning.”

He looks amused and you turn from him, unable to hide your grin. You pour a steaming cup and snap the lid on.

“Pretty shit morning if this is makin’ it,” he drawls.

You hand him the cup and your fingers brush. 

“You have no idea.”

He eyes the sign again and then your stained apron. “I got some notion.” He tugs his wallet from his back pocket and pulls out a $5 bill. “Keep the change,” he says.

You want to refuse, to thank him, but a few more cars pull up and Mr. Black Coffee just raises his cup to you and heads back to his truck.

Well, shit. You hope he comes back. A tipper like that, and hot? You sure wouldn’t mind if he became a regular customer. __

You call Tess that afternoon and she does know a guy, so the espresso machine gets fixed and things go back to normal. Your part-time help returns in the morning and nothing else breaks. 

Today is uncharacteristically warm for the season. The inside of The Zone is almost stifling, always at least 15 degrees warmer than outside, and you keep wiping your sweaty hands on your apron as you make espresso after espresso for the lunch crowd.

Cat, a spunky girl who likes to practice her latte art when it’s slow, takes orders at the register. You keep half of your attention on her and half on the four drinks you’re working on. 

“Black coffee, please,” someone says to her. Someone whose voice you recognize. 

“Can I get a name for that?” Cat asks. It’s busy enough that calling names is easier than calling orders, no matter how small your menu is.

“Joel,” he says. You let the milk steam on its own and pour the black coffee before Cat can do it.

“I’ve got it,” you tell her. “Can you finish up those drinks?”

She shrugs and you swap places. You know you’re sweaty and coffee-stained but you smile at him and hand over his coffee.

“Hot coffee on a day like this?” you tease. He – Joel – is sweaty, too. The collar of his work shirt is dark with sweat and his hair is a mess. He must be here on his lunch break. He takes the cup from you and slurps a long sip as a reply to your question. 

You laugh. Joel looks pleased. 

“Operatin’ a full menu, I see,” he says, pulling out another $5. “Glad you got it fixed.”

“It’s still a piece of junk,” you shrug. “Just don’t tell anyone I said that.”

He waves off your offer of change and raises his cup at you, taking a few steps backward towards his truck.

“Thank you,” he says. He eyes the tag on your chest and tacks your name on at the end. It sounds good from his mouth.

“Bye, Joel,” you say. His lips twitch but you barely have time to think about it before you have to take the next few orders. 

The line dies down and you step away from the register to help Cat with some cappuccinos – your least favorite drink by far due to all the damn foam they require – and she eyes you.

“Dude,” Cat says. “What the hell was that?”

If it wasn’t already a billion degrees in here you know your face would feel hot. 

“What the hell was what?”

She can’t reply for a few seconds while you grind beans for some espresso.

“I didn’t even know you knew how to flirt,” she muses, tapping a frother full of milk a few times. “That was pretty bad flirting if you ask me –”

You turn the grinder on again to drown her out.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you yell. She rolls her eyes at you until you turn off the machine.

You tamp down the grounds and slot them into the machine.

“I mean, not my type at all, for like, so many reasons,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “Way too old for me, for one. Man, for another. But I see the appeal, I guess. Seems like he likes you. And was that a five-dollar bill? Black coffee is two bucks, last time I checked –”

“Can we get back to steaming milk, please?” you snap, more embarrassed than mad. “I am not taking flirting advice from a teenager.”

“I’m twenty!” she sputters. “Wait, so you admit that you like him?”

“Milk.”

Cat is right, though, and you know it. You just don’t see any harm in having a crush on some guy who comes to your coffee shop. Running this place means you see hundreds of people every day. You know their names, you ask them about their kids and their pets and their jobs, and you smile at them even on your bad days. It’s just part of the job. The daily interactions keep you afloat, make you feel more solid in your own life. People see you, they recognize you, they know you – even if it’s just because you make them coffee. 

Maybe Joel will keep coming back. Maybe he’ll become one of the regulars you know things about.

And if you have a crush on him? 

No harm done. He’s nice to look at.

And he tips well.

__

Joel stops by again. 

And again. 

And again.

He comes in every morning – sometimes at lunch – and orders the same thing. You learn the rumble of his truck by ear alone, the crunch of his boots on the gravel. Sometimes people in line say hi to him and a smile works its way onto your face on instinct when his voice reaches your ear. It’s never slow enough to have a proper conversation but he smiles at you, tells you he likes the flowers, your new apron. 

All of it is flirting but maybe not flirting. 

Maybe he’s just being polite.

Also, he keeps overpaying. 

One day, almost a month since you first saw him, he doesn’t come in the morning.  When you don’t see him in line at lunch, either, you’re a little disappointed. The weather is perfect – not too hot, not too cold, the sun shining – and you want to see him in the sunlight.

The day crowd is long gone and you’re only an hour or two from closing when his truck pulls up.

“I was getting worried,” you call as he walks over. Usually, he’s got some kind of dust or paint or something on them – Joel is a contractor, you’ve learned through your brief encounters, not a farmer – but today his clothes are clean and un-ripped. 

“I’m honored,” he says. 

You have his cup ready by the time he reaches the window. 

“I’m just surprised you can get through the day without a cup of coffee.”

He snorts and hands you his cash. 

“I can’t,” he says. “Had shitty home brew this morning.”

He takes a sip of your coffee and sighs. Your heart picks up and you don’t hide your grin.

“What’s with the schedule change?” you ask. 

He smirks. “Miss me?” 

You scoff and cross your arms. Heat rises in your chest and you feel almost giddy. 

“Just curious,” you say. “Don’t let it go to your head, but you’re my favorite customer.”

Joel laughs and scratches the back of his neck. 

“Reckon that’s the tip.”

“Actually, ordering a cup of black coffee is the way to any barista’s heart.”

Joel’s eyebrows climb up his forehead. 

“Ah,” he says. He takes another sip, his eyes dancing with mirth. “‘Course.”

“Nah,” you say with a teasing smile. “I’d never be so shallow.”

There’s no line behind him but you expect him to go back to his truck, anyway. But here he is. Talking to you.

You grab a rag and wipe down the counter to keep your hands busy. 

“I’m, uh. Meetin’ one of my kids here,” Joel says. The sudden shyness that accompanies his admission is a surprise. 

Your eyes dart to his hand but you see no ring, nor the pale shadow of one. 

“Both of ‘em moved to the city recently. Ellie – she’s comin’ up for the night.”

“I’ll bet you miss them,” you offer. You’re not sure why he’d want to bring his daughter to your coffee shack, but you’re not complaining.

Joel smiles at you. It’s a sad smile but still a good one. The affection in his eyes is raw. 

“Sure do,” he says. He tucks one hand in his pocket and takes another sip of his coffee. “But it’s good for them. Sarah – she’s a little older – is in school and Ellie is workin’ on her music and whatever else she’s into these days.” The pride in his voice is clear. 

“Well, I’m honored you want to bring her here.” You gesture to your slightly sad sitting area and the empty lot behind him. 

Joel looks ready to argue with you when a faded, older version of his truck pulls up. Music leaks from the open windows and the driver bops her head to the beat a few times before shutting it off and hoping out, thumbs flying on the screen of her phone. 

“That’ll be her,” he says drily. “Hey, kiddo.”

Ellie looks up from her hands, tucks her phone in her back pocket, and grins at Joel.

She doesn’t look a thing like him, but the connection is obvious. She moves like him, her shoulders set like she’s ready for a challenge at any moment. Joel sets his coffee down at the window and meets her halfway for a hug.

You look away and busy yourself with restocking whatever you can get your hands on.

“Dude, you come here every day?” Ellie asks. “Joel, this is so far from –”

Joel talks over her.

“Drive go okay? Sarah said they’re doin’ shit on the 35 –”

Ellie huffs.

“Yeah, yeah, some traffic getting out of the city ‘cause of the fucking lane closure, but otherwise fine.”

“Good.”

You turn to face them, a genuine smile firmly in place. 

“Hi,” you say. Joel picks up his coffee again, which Ellie eyes with a scowl. You introduce yourself to her. “You’re Ellie, right? I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

Ellie frowns. Behind her, Joel’s mouth twitches but he says nothing. It’s a lie, obviously, but something tells you he doesn’t mind and she believes it.

“Really?” She throws him a glare and then rolls her eyes. “You gotta stop telling strangers about me, man.”

“Someone’s gotta warn ‘em,” he says. 

She laughs. “Hey, fuck you!”

“Only good stuff,” you say. You like her. “Joel says you’re working on your music?”

Ellie’s eyes light up. “Oh, yeah,” she says. “I’ve got an audition next week.” She turns to Joel. “I brought my guitar ‘cause I have a fuck ton of songs to play for you.”

He puts a hand on her shoulder and she settles a little.

“I bet they’re real good.”

Ellie flushes and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well. You have to hear them first.”

You feel a little off-balance again, like you’re on the fringes of something you shouldn’t be seeing. The love on Joel’s face is clear as day. 

“Do you want some coffee?” you ask her.

Joel winces. Ellie gags. 

“No offense,” she starts, eyes darting between you and Joel. “I know Joel is fifty percent coffee on a good day, but it’s not my thing.” She looks at the menu and narrows her eyes. “I had a mocha the other day and didn’t hate it. Do you make those?”

“Look at that,” Joel says. “You’re convertin’.”

“Am not,” Ellie says. “It’s got chocolate in it, dude. No shit, I like it.”

“Yeah, give me a few minutes,” you laugh. “I’ll put lots of chocolate in it.”

They sit at one of your tables and you hear their laughter in the background as you make her drink.

It’s strange to see Joel like this – to build up on the man you’ve imagined him to be in your mind. Father never occurred to you. It makes sense, though, like a missing piece of him slotted into place. But it also makes the crush feel a little more real. Now that he’s more than your favorite regular customer. Now that you know a piece of him, of who he really is. 

It makes you want to know more.

You finish her drink and call Ellie’s name. They both stand and Joel digs in his wallet again.

“Don’t you dare pay me, Joel,” you say. You direct your next words at Ellie. “Really. I’m just honored you stopped by.”

She eyes Joel and he eyes her right back with the same look. She must have learned it from him.

“Yeah,” she says. “Me too.” She grins at you with all of her teeth. “Joel loves this place. Talks about it all the time.”

She takes a sip of her mocha and her eyes go wide.

“Wait, this is fucking good. Man, I see why you drive –”

Joel clears his throat.

“We’re off,” he says. “Thank you, as always.” He sounds softer than usual as if being nice to his daughter is the best thing you could do for him.

You suppose it is.

“You’re welcome, as always.” 

Ellie knocks her shoulder with Joel’s as they head back to their trucks. She must be whispering something to him because he swats her away with a groan and she cackles. 

They both wave at you as they drive away. 

__

Joel keeps coming in the mornings, and your conversations return to their fleeting cadence. Even so, it’s hard to deny that your crush on him has kicked into high gear.

You try not to let your gaze linger on his lips, on his throat. On his hands when he takes the cup from you, how your skin brushes and it makes you warm all over. You think about how he laughed, how relaxed he was around Ellie. You want to know what he’s like outside of your small daily interaction. You want to know what he eats for dinner, how he spends his weekends, what he listens to on the radio.

You want him.

Business is busy, which helps. A kid from a few towns over – Jesse, he’s called – signs on to work part-time, mostly for the second half of the day. He’s been a barista before so the training is minimal, but it still changes the flow of things. He’s a charming guy and the regulars take to him easy enough.

It’s you who is distracted. 

One morning, Joel comes in as expected. Jesse is working, too, trying to clock some extra hours this week.

Joel is on the phone in line, his attention somewhere else. He’s frowning, a deep crease between his brows as he waits in line. All it would take to smooth it away is the press of your thumb. 

You try not to stare and probably fail, but manage to take and make the orders ahead of him without making any mistakes, though your whole body feels alight.

He hangs up right as he gets to the window and sighs, giving you a tired smile.

“Howdy,” he says. You set his coffee down in front of him and he pulls out a ten-dollar bill instead of a five.

“Joel –” you say, but he interrupts you.

“My brother called and said he needs breakfast,” Joel grumbles. “Y’got any of Tess’s bear claws?”

Right, they work together, you remember. He’s mentioned Tommy in passing. 

“I think so, just hold on a sec.”

“Take your time,” Joel says. It sounds like he means it, even though there’s a line behind him and he probably needs to get to work. 

You do find a few bear claws in the box Tess gave you early this morning when you stopped by the bakery.

“You’re in luck,” you say, putting it in a paper bag. “Well, Tommy is.”

“Savin’ my ass,” he tells you when you hand it to him. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

The word sends a jolt of lightning through your whole body. He doesn’t even seem to realize he’s said it but your world shifts slightly on its axis. Sweetheart.

He turns on his heel before you can give him change for his cash, his phone ringing.

“Jesus, Tommy, I said I’d –”

You let him fade into the distance and smile at your next customer.

“How can I help you?”

A few orders later you end up next to Jesse making some lattes.

“Was that Joel Miller?” Jesse asks. “Before. The guy with the black coffee and bear claw?”

You startle. “Um. It was. How do you –”

“I didn’t know he was a customer here,” Jesse says. “Does he come in a lot?”

You unpack a few more cinnamon buns that Tess gave you this morning. “Yeah, every day.”

“Damn,” he says. “He must really like your coffee.”

“Are you trying to say it’s bad coffee, Jesse?”

He huffs a laugh. “No, boss, ‘course not.” He grinds beans for a few seconds but continues once he’s done, steady hands tamping down the results. “I just know he lives like, a half-hour away. And that there are plenty of coffee shops there, too.”

You narrow your eyes. “How do you know him, Jesse?”

“His daughter, Ellie, is a friend of mine,” he shrugs. “Went over to their house plenty of times in high school.”

“Well. He’s a contractor, right? I bet he has a job out here.”

Jesse clips the espresso into the machine and starts on some milk. 

“I’m not saying he doesn’t,” he muses. “I am saying that it takes at least 30 minutes to get here from where he lives.”

It’s silly. You’re half-flattered, half-confused. Yeah, you like Joel, and yeah, you’re pretty sure you’ve been flirting every day for over a month. But you figure it’s convenient for him. Coffee and an ego boost all in one. 

But if he’s going out of his way to come to The Zone? Well, maybe it’s not just for the coffee.

“Your coffee is good,” Jesse stresses, seeing the gears in your mind turning. It looks like he’s trying to hide a grin. You need to stop hiring young people who have keen eyes and big mouths.

“I think the ice needs a refill,” you say, snapping back into focus. 

“He might be here for something else, too -”

“Go refill the ice.”

He throws up his hands with a smirk. “I’m going!”

__

7:24 am. You’re on your own again and you’re fucked. 

The espresso machine is working perfectly and the early rush has ended. The weather is beyond shitty. Rain falls in sheets and the sky is so dark it feels like the sun didn’t bother to rise. It pounds on the roof and blows in the window every time you open it. The awning does nothing to shield customers as they shout their orders over the wind at you. Your fingers are going numb and your front is damp enough to set your teeth chattering. 

Joel’s truck pulls up and – well. You’re fucked. And he’s why.

You’re fucked because you can’t stop thinking about him. You can’t stop thinking about what Jesse said. What Joel said. Sweetheart.

A harmless crush turned into something more intense, something heavy in your stomach. You want him earnestly, fully, with every piece of you. 

And you still barely know him. But you want to. 

Maybe it’s the weather, maybe it’s the fact that you’re damp and cold and frustrated with your own heart and brain. But you see his truck and you decide to do something about this stupid crush.

You write your phone number on a cup with steady hands and set it aside for Joel. You scrawl on it as neatly as you can: Want to get a drink somewhere else sometime? 

It’s a bit of a coward’s way out. You should just ask him, say how you feel to his face. He’d probably like that better, anyway. But, well, this just feels safer. He could ignore it, he could throw it out, he could see it and decide to never come back. 

Sweetheart.

Somehow you don’t think he’ll do any of those.

The rain lashes against the window so hard you don’t open it until you see the lonely figure approach. The morning rush has been a morning trickle, a few brave souls venturing out for something from you.

Joel, it seems, is one.

You open the window and are greeted with a spray of mist.

“Gimme a sec,” you tell him. It’s so windy he leans in close to hear you. He’s wearing a jacket that’s ill-suited for the rain, his hair plastered to his forehead. Your fingers twitch with the need to brush it back. 

You quickly fill the cup you’ve set aside and pass it to him with two hands so it doesn’t blow over.

“Brave of you,” you say. He’s in the rain and you’re both getting soaked but you want to talk to him desperately. It’s a buzzing need at the front of your brain. “Thought the weather would get you, too.”

“Told you,” he all but yells over the wind with a flash of white teeth. “Shitty coffee at home.”

“Drive safe, Joel,” you tell him. He nods at you and jogs back to the truck, cup in hand. You won’t be able to see if he reads it from here, but you hope so. All you have to do is wait.

And wait.

And wait.

The rain stops.

You’re still waiting, phone silent.

Sunshine peeks through the clouds with a slightly surreal post-storm glow. A few more folks have made their way to The Zone but today has been slow. The clock ticks slowly towards 3 pm and your phone does not ring.

“Don’t be stupid,” you mutter. “He’s working.” 

You step out of the shack and into the slightly humid air, the gravel under your feet shifting wetly. The tables you’d set out this morning are, mercifully, still there, though they’re spattered with rain. You might as well close up now.

You’re bent over the last of the chairs, wiping them down with an old rag. You’re focused, so much so that you don’t pay much attention to the hum of an engine and the crunch of tires behind you.

A door slams but you don’t turn around.

“Sorry,” you call over your shoulder. “We just closed.”

“Shame,” he says. 

You whip around and find Joel, hands in his pockets. He’s in a different shirt than this morning and his jeans don’t look soaked. You’re still damp, water stains on your pants and shirt.

“Oh,” you breathe. “Hi, Joel.”

He smirks. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you outside of that window,” he says, before jutting his chin towards the tables. “Can I help?”

You’re very aware of your whole body all at once. He’s looking at you, drinking you in like you’re his morning cup of coffee.

“Uh, sure,” you say. You want to ask why he’s here but the words won’t come. “They go in there, in the little closet on the right.” You point to the open door to the shack.

He dips his chin low just once and then crosses the distance between you in three big strides. He grabs the chair closest to you. The t-shirt he’s wearing shows his arms and you feel what he’s just said – it’s weird to be in the same space like this. You’re outside but he feels so big.

Joel’s arms flex and you swallow, following him with another chair. He stacks his in the right place and holds a hand out for yours.

“What did you write on it?” he asks, casually. 

The words don’t totally register. “What?”

He doesn’t answer. His arms are crossed, brow furrowed. Your mouth goes dry.

“On my cup. This mornin’.” He keeps his gaze on yours and for some reason, you can’t look away.

“Oh – you, you didn’t see?” 

He shakes his head. “Was rainin’, remember? Got smudged before I got in my truck.”

“Right.” 

You tear yourself away and leave him standing there. Maybe you should just lie.

But then you think about the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when you make him laugh, and how he asks you how you are and how he brought his daughter here and how he tips and how he drives all this way for your – for you.

Joel waits, his footsteps the only indication he’s followed you.

You turn around.

“I wrote my phone number,” you say. “And I asked you on a date.”

The corner of his mouth pulls up and you think he’s…blushing?

He rubs a hand over his beard and you hope he’s hiding a smile. Your heart is in your throat, beating so loud you worry that he can hear it. All of your bravado sinks into the damp ground at your feet. Maybe you’ve read this totally wrong. Maybe he’s just a nice guy, maybe your coffee is just really good and your employees are fucking with you. He’s here to let you down easy, to tell you he’s not even available, not interested, not –

“Alright,” Joel says. He walks towards you and tugs his phone from his back pocket. “I’ll take that number.”

Oh.

He hands it over and you type it in, heart jackhammering in your chest. But you watch his face, see the quirk of his mouth and his blush and it makes you brave.

“And the date?” you ask, giving it back. Your fingers brush and your heart keeps pounding but your nerves take a sharp turn away from doubt and towards excitement.

“Well, you gonna ask again?”

You both seem to have found your footing with whatever this is. The flirt in him is back full force, and he’s looking at you in that way of his. You want to know all of his expressions. There is so much to learn.

“Are you going to say yes?”

“S’why I came back,” he admits. “Figured you’d be closin’. Hoped you’d be free.”

“So you could read the cup?”

Joel takes the other two chairs and heads for the door again. You trail him. God, his arms are distracting. 

“Most of it,” he says. “Couldn’t make out the last few numbers, though.”

“Well, once we’re done here, I’m free. If you wanted to go on a date with me.”

Joel turns and you’re in the small space at the same time, your chests almost pressed together. You must smell like sweat and stale coffee but you watch as Joel inhales, eyes on yours.

“I do,” he says. 

It would be so easy to kiss him, a quick, chaste press of your lips to see what he tastes like.

His pupils dilate and you sway into him for a breath before you realize what you’re doing and step back outside.

You take a deep breath of fresh air. “Great.”

He rubs the back of his neck with one hand and you head for the tables. 

“Y’know,” he says. “Ellie’s been on my ass about this.”

You laugh, high and bright. “Has she?”

“That girl ain’t capable of missin’ an opportunity to stick her nose in,” he grumbles, but it’s affectionate. 

“Well, I think she’s smart,” you goad. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Reckon she is.”

Joel’s brows furrow and he takes a few quick steps into your space, so close the tips of your shoes almost touch.

“Oh,” you breathe. “Hi.”

“Hold still,” he says. He reaches for your face slowly, slow enough that you could pull away but you don’t. He brushes something from your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Grounds.” His voice is a little hoarse.

“Thanks,” you breathe. 

He smirks but the flush creeping up his neck tells you he’s not wholly unaffected. It makes you feel…it just makes you feel. 

Joel Miller likes you.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” you say.

His eyes widen slightly and he leans in just a little but you slide out of his space with a grin.

“The sooner we finish up the sooner I can buy you a drink.”

Joel laughs, loud and full. “Oh, how generous of you.”

“You’re very lucky,” you say.

“I agree,” he drawls. He taps your chin with one knuckle.

His eyes sparkle and he smiles, looking luminous in the post-storm sunshine. You see a flash of a future – watching him drink coffee in a kitchen instead of through the window of The Zone. Your hands meeting over a shared table, fingers tangling, that smile directed at you in the morning light. 

Giddiness rises in your throat and spills out of you in a delighted laugh of your own. Joel just grins.

“So,” he says. “Where’re you takin’ me?”

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

[httpiastri]

snowy mountains & hot baths – op81

you, oscar, and an empty spa can only lead to one thing.

genre: very short smut 😶

pairing: oscar piastri x female reader

warnings: uhhh public sex.... unprotected sex, wrap it before you tap it yall!!

author's note: happy valentines day :) wish i had oscar here to celebrate with me... anyway. idk about this one guys 🫠🫠 started out alright but then i hated half of it so i deleted it and rewrote it but it just got worse. and i know that if i don't just post it rn, i will likely procrastinate and never end up posting it at all. yay. hope u enjoy anyway! i also have another oscar fic done that's at least a bit better than this lol.

f1 masterlist

18+ content below, minors do not interact!

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a low groan leaves oscar's lips when he dips his feet in the warm water. he instantly turns around, eyes finding you standing by the door you've just walked through to get to this outdoor area of the spa. he holds his hand out towards you, beckoning for you to step closer.

"it feels so good," he promises, gaze following your every move as you let your robe slide down your arms. his eyes widen when you reveal your newly bought bikini – papaya orange, of course – and a shudder passes through his body at the sight of the tiny material trying it's best to cover you up.

he thanks all the gods he can think of that there's no one else around.

goosebumps grow across your skin now that you're exposed to the sub-zero temperatures, toes curling in the short layer of snow on the deck. you stroll over to him, making sure to let your hips sway a little extra with every step because you know he's watching and you know what he's thinking. the sight of him gulping as his eyes wander up and down your body can only mean one thing.

taking his hand in yours, you let him pull you into the water with him, letting out a content sound when the water envelops your legs and brings the temperature of your body up again. oscar gives your hand a squeeze and leans back, his back hitting the water as he submerged into it. you dive in right after him, making a few strokes beneath the surface before coming up for air again. your hands come up to wipe away the water from your face, before brushing over your hair and tying it up in a messy bun on top of your head.

"this is just what i needed," your boyfriend says, drawing out an agreeing hum from you. it's been a long day – a long week, really – filled to the brim with skiing, hot chocolate drinking, skiing, cable car-rides, and then more skiing. oscar doesn't usually get a lot of time off work, and when he does, he wants to make the most of it. and as his partner, he thinks you should be doing the same, and that's why he's woken you up in the early hours every morning this last week, practically bouncing from how much he aches to go out in the swiss alps yet again.

the hot tub is big enough to swim around in, but oscar makes his way to the side and sits down on the built-in seat, arms stretching out and resting on the edge of the pool. you swim over to him, easily slipping onto his lap and letting your hands rest on his shoulders. oscar tenses up when you sit on him, and you're not surprised by the length already poking up at you – he's just a man, after all – but you decide not to do anything to acknowledge it just yet.

"it's really beautiful here, don't you think?" you ask, looking to your side. the sun has only just set, so the little village isn't completely dark yet. the moon above your heads casts a soft hue over the mountains you've spent all week conquering, stars twinkling among the tops.

"not as beautiful as you, though." there's barely any lightning out here other than the little candles scattered across the floor, but you see the fire in oscar's gaze clearly when you look back at him. he's staring at you like you're the most perfect work of art, the most beautiful thing to ever exist – and your expression matches his, because he truly is your favorite thing to look at in the world. your heart flutters at the contrast between how cute he looks with a few locks of his long fringe curling along his forehead, and how incredibly sexy his body looks with the little droplets of water decorating his muscular chest. he's just stunning.

"you really did a great job with planning and booking all of this, you know," you start. "i may have complained quite a bit when you dragged me out of bed at six am, but... it's all been perfect."

your hands find the space just below his jaw, and it takes all of your strength not to blatantly stare at his thick neck when you feel the muscles under your touch.

"well, perfect except for the fact that my legs are so sore right now."

oscar chuckles at this confession, hands leaving the edge of the pool and dipping into the water instead. "let me help you out with that, then..."

a jolt of electricity shoots down your spine when his palms meet your bare thighs, fingers pressing into the skin and stroking you softly. your eyes flutter closed, loving every second of his massage and growing hotter when his hands make their way further and further up. it doesn't take long before oscar can't hold back anymore, reaching up to press his lips against yours.

you sigh into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling yourself further towards him, your crotch brushing against his as a result. the moan he lets out is so hot that you instinctively begin grinding down against him, wanting to hear more.

oscar gets the hint, but finds himself reaching for your shoulders, holding you back as he leans out of the kiss. your lips chase after him, a frown taking over your face when he doesn't give in. you open your eyes to look at him.

"are you sure... that you want to..." oscar's voice is low but genuine; he knows you aren't a fan of exhibitionism, and that these situations usually only make you uncomfortable.

but the look in your eyes is impossible to misinterpret. "there's no one around..."

he looks around the area once more just to make sure. choosing to go to the spa at 8pm, the exact time when the restaurant at the hotel was the most crowded, was oscar's best idea yet.

he doesn't say anything else. he just grabs the back of your neck, pushing you down to his lips yet again. it's more rushed now, messy kisses pressed against your lips and his tongue swiping across your bottom lip hastily. his other hand caresses all the way down your back, gives your butt a quick squeeze, and then moves to your front instead. his fingers trace the edge of your bikini before dipping inside of it, finding your clit with ease.

your upper body is completely leaning onto him by now, little sounds slipping past your lips as he starts drawing circles onto your already sensitive bud. in no time, he's slipped past your clit, one finger sliding into your core and pumping you a couple of times before being joined by another finger. you can't help but clench around him, exhaling into the kiss.

"please, oscar..." you whine against his lips, and oscar nods, pulling out of you and breaking the kiss. he holds your hips away a little to make space for his hand undoing the knot that holds up his swim trunks, before pulling his dick out of them. he lifts you up, fingers pushing your bikini bottoms to the side but pausing when his tip meets your core. he waits for your nod of consent before finally entering you.

the water helps him glide into you, a throaty moan rumbling from his throat when he bottoms you out. he doesn't give you even a second to adjust, hands on your hips pulling you up before sinking you onto him again.

"fuck," he lets out, throwing his head back when you start to roll your hips against his. "you feel so good..."

you lean forward, forehead resting on the bend of his neck as you bounce up and down on him. your hands move to the back of his head, fingers getting lost in his locks, and it doesn't take long before your movements get sloppier. you gasp when oscar begins thrusting up into you, meeting your downward movements in a steady rhythm.

his grip on your hips grows firmer, rough fingers pressing into your skin and surely leaving marks for tomorrow. he's getting closer, too – you can tell by the string of moans he's letting out in between a bunch of swearwords – and you use your last bit of energy to pick up your pace and help him out. your walls contract around him when you come, and you feel him reach his own high not long after, twitching and shooting into you as you ride out your orgasms.

his hands are more gentle now, brushing up and down your back and following the bumps of your spine. when you finally gain the energy to speak, your words vibrate against his skin. "well, we're never coming back to this spa again." you lean back slightly, looking up at him for the first time in a while. "or the town, for that matter."

his blissed-out eyes meet yours, soft and glossy as he raises his eyebrows. "why's that?"

his flushed cheeks make him look so innocent, but his heaving chest tells another story. "did you not see the cameras?" you question.

"oh, you think we're the first ones to do this here?" you gasp at his wording, splashing some water his way. he laughs. "what, do you really? i reckon this happens here at least once every day. maybe even more."

"oscar!"

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Your Eyes Tell | Jeon Jungkook One Shot

Paring: f!reader x Jungkook (established relationship) Word Count: 4k~ Warnings: Angsttttttt and explicit/suggestive language (a little) a/n: This is kind of like a anti Valentine's Day thingy but it's literally so late and I'm posting it on Hobi's bday (in the US) Happy Hobi day tho 🥺💜 hope you guys enjoy the angst cuz the ending broke me 😭

Walking up to our apartment I knock on the door and instead of my normal lighthearted knocks I settle on the customary three. It was the beginning of the end for us...

I hear the soft patter of your feet walking to the door and when you open it instead of being met with your smile I'm left with an almost blank expression, telling me that you're trying to hold back all of those things we had left unsaid.

"Can I come in?" I ask tentatively, leaving you hesitant for a moment before letting out a deep sigh and opening it wide enough to let me in. "Would you like something to drink?" you ask on ceremony, leaving me awkward from being treated as a guest in the home we share together.

"Just water, thank you" I accept, knowing I'll need some as I feel all the moisture in my mouth disappear in anticipation for this uncomfortable conversation.

You bring me a glass of water before sitting down on the armchair that sits next to the couch I'm on, a strategic move to cut yourself off from me from the beginning. 

"So?" you ask expectantly, waiting for a clue as to why I'm here right now. "I wanted to apologize for, well everything that happened and everything that I did wrong that night" I start off and I hear you scoff at it, having taken my tentative tone for insincerity right off the bat.

"Can you please just, just let me say what I need to say and if you have nothing left to say to me then I'll go" I plead and you shift your weight a bit then sit motionless, wordlessly inviting me to continue.

"That whole night was a mistake. It shouldn't have happened. She wasn't supposed to be here" I say, bringing up the events of that night. The night that took away the one person I loved the most, that I love...

~~~~~~

The day before Valentine's Day started out just like any other day. Having my beautiful girlfriend sleeping peacefully next to me with the warm rays of sunlight shining down on us.

I luckily woke up before our alarm so I have a chance to be her not so rude awakening. I chose to turn on my side to face her body and pull her up against mine, her back now pressed against my chest making everything feel perfect.

"Jungkook?" she mumbles, still half asleep. "It's okay it's still early, I just wanted to hold you" I say, nuzzling my face into the crook of her neck. She hums in delight and rests her arm on top of the one I have wrapped around her waist and drifts back to sleep for those few extra minutes.

It started off just like any other day...

Our Valentine's Day plans were something that I had been planning for weeks and I wanted it to be just right. It would start off with an intimate night in on the night before Valentine's Day that would lead into a weekend get away in the mountains. Something we've always loved to do together. 

As I was putting the finishing touches on the dinner I had made I make sure everything else is set. I had spent the whole day cleaning the house, washing and putting away laundry, making dinner and creating a romantic atmosphere in our bedroom. 

Yes with the cheesy red rose petals and candles but I always knew you were a sucker for it anyway. 

Everything was perfect. Perfect up until the point when she showed up. 

I don't even know how she managed to find us but she did. My ex from years ago, always managing to pop up at the worst time, and she knows it. 

I look down at my watch before opening the door, confused when I hear a knock a lot earlier than I had suspected you would be here but my face falls once I see who it really is. 

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I question through my clenched teeth, grinding them as a way to prohibit me from blowing up on her. It never works anyway. I could scream, threaten and cuss her out but she would never get hurt by any of my words no matter how hard I threw them at her. 

"Nice to see you too Bunny" she says trying to take a peek over my shoulder. "She's not home is she?" she asks, clearly making sure I'm alone so she can toy with me in peace. "Doesn't matter because either way you're not welcome here" I spit out but before I even have a chance to react she's slipped under my arm and has made her way inside. 

"Oh you don't mean that" she says, taking off her ridiculously high heels and almost falling on her face while doing so. It's a pity she didn't fall, she probably would've been happy to have a reason to get another hideous nose job. 

"Yes I do now get the fuck out of my house" I raise my voice, hoping that it'll get her attention but alas my effort has been for naught. She wanders around the place and touches absolutely everything and even has the audacity to cringe at a picture of you and I and places the little frame face down on the mantle it sits on.

"How did you even find me?" I say as I watch you invade not only mine but your privacy but I know I need to reason with her before push comes to shove and I have to call the cops on her...again. 

"I have my ways" she says, walking up to the table where I have our favorite bottle of wine with two glasses and she expertly opens the bottle before I can stop her and takes the liberty of pouring herself a glass. 

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I question as she takes a big gulp and fills her glass up again after she's decided it's to her liking. "Setting up for Valentine's Day? Isn't it a little too early?" she questions, ignoring me and knocking over the little bear I got you making me clench my hands into fists. 

"Not that it's any of your business but we're leaving for the weekend so this is all an early surprise for her" I say, crossing my arms as I continue to restrain myself from picking her up and throwing her out myself. "Oh wow, she's a lucky girl. Where are you two going?" she questions as if I would ever tell her. 

"I bet you're taking her up to your parent's cabin huh? The one we used to go to" she prods, hitting it right on the money and me giving up the answer with a clench of my jaw. "You're so predictable Bunny. A creature of habit one might say" she says while dragging her hand along my still crossed arms and making her way down the hall and into our bedroom. 

"Oh how adorable, looks like you put a lot of work into this didn't you?" she says while picking up one of the intact roses on the center of the bed. "Don't touch anything" I say, following after her but my words have no effect as she picks up the lighter and starts lighting the candles. 

"Don't!" I order and at that she places the lighter down but presses play on the speaker, our playlist already pulled up to set the mood. "Remember when you used to do stuff like this for me? We used to be so happy together" she says as she stalks over to me, feigning innocence as if she wasn't the reason we broke up.

"You were happy spending my money and I was stupid enough to think that you might've loved me too" I say through gritted teeth, my mouth sore from the constant state it's been in since she got here. "I did love you Bunny, I still love you. Why else would still I be here?" she asks while batting her ridiculously big eyelashes at me. 

"Because you're fucking materialistic and you keep on trying to get me to take you back so you can drain my bank account like you did last time" I say, cocking a brow at her. "That's not the only reason. I really miss your cock too" she says, somehow having gotten close enough to palm me through my slacks.

I push her off immediately, feeling disgusted and violated but before I'm able to think straight again she's grabbed a hold of my dress shirt and 'loses her balance' pulling me down onto the bed on top of her. 

"Sorry Bunny" she says as if she's was a child apologizing with the biggest puppy dog eyes that I've grown to hate. The ones that scream 'Can I borrow your credit card or fuck me please' among her other stupid phases she used to use on me.

"Get the fuck off of me" I say trying to push off of the bed but she pulls me back on top of her, making me actually lose my balance. As soon as she notices the sound of your keys jingling at the front door she grips onto my neck and smashes her lips against mine, not leaving me any room for protest. 

"Jungkook, where are you?" you call out, unsuspecting and walking in our apartment and seeing the effort I had gone through on the surface but having our intimate space violated by the person I hate the most in this world. 

"Baby what's all thi-" you say through a smile but are caught off guard by seeing what I know is me struggling to get off of my ex and with her pulling me back down. Although I'm sure you see it as the rudest awakening ever. 

"What the fuck?" you say in a monotone and it's only then that she let's me go. "Baby this isn't what yo-" "Oh y/n, hi. Um this is awkward. You said she wasn't going to be home until later" my ex directs at me while getting up and straightening out her clothes and hair, disgusting me at the knowledge that I contributed to her state against my will. 

"What the fuck is going on here?" You say in a stronger tone and at that my ex scurries out, avoiding any backlash from you. "Bye Bunny" she chimes before she closes the door behind her. 

"Baby please let me explain I-" "What the hell was she doing here?" you say through gritted teeth, a habit I'm just now realizing you have picked up from me. "I don't know. She showed up here and barged in and started touching everything and-" "Well why did you let her in? How did you both end up in here?" you ask as you take a good look around the bedroom.

"She came back here before I could stop her. I tried to tell her to leave but she wouldn't listen" I say, trying to plead my case but I know it's a weak defense. "Why are there candles lit? Why is our playlist playing? Why is there a glass of wine and roses in here? Jungkook what the fuck is going on?" you list off making me realize how the cards are stacked against me. 

"Please just let me explain okay? Let's just go back out there and talk over dinner" I say trying to usher her out of the room. "Don't. Touch. Me." you say, emphasizing each word before stalking out of the room with me following behind you and running my fingers through my once styled and now messy hair thanks to my fucking ex.

I find you moments later sitting on the couch and doing the same as me, running your fingers through your hair and see again it's a habit we seem to share.

"Talk" you say coldly and I sit down on the armchair while you sit on the couch. "Can't we talk over dinner? I ma-" "I'm not hungry. So talk or I'm leaving" you say and that's enough to get me to shut down that idea.

"I already told you she barged in here and started touching everything and nothing that I did could stop her" I say because that's exactly what happened but I can tell that's not gonna work for you.

"Why were you on the bed kissing her? What was up with the candles and the music?" you say pressing for more answers that you certainly have a right to. 

"Again she was touching things and grabbed the lighter and lit the candles and pressed play on the speaker. It was all a blur and I couldn't really process it because next thing I know it she's coming onto me and she touched me, like she touched my dick and it caught me off guard and I shoved her off of me and she pulled me down onto the bed on top of her and I tried to get off of her right away but as soon as she heard you walking in the door she started kissing me" I list off in one breath, giving you as much information as I can so you know every little detail.

"I need to go" you say standing up and heading into our bedroom with me right on your heels. "Where are you going?" I panic, watching you as you throw some clothes in a bag. "Away" you say giving me little to no information. "Baby please let's work through this. I'm sorry I should've shut the door right in her face when I saw it was her" I admit. 

"Then why didn't you huh? You shouldn't have let her step foot in here. We moved so we could get away from that psycho and now she's back? No I can't do this right now I need to go" you say, zipping up the bag and grabbing your purse and keys. 

"Y/n please don't leave" I say grabbing your wrist, my eyes turned down in fear of you seeing how broken I am at the thought of you leaving me. "Please, just stay with me" I plead in a hushed tone but I know no matter how much begging and pleading I do you've already made up your mind. 

"Goodbye Jungkook" you say, ripping your wrist out of my grasp, stuffing your feet in your shoes, opening the door and slamming it behind you, not giving a damn about the neighbors.

I walk over to the door you just went through, our front door. The one that we're supposed to come through and be happy together, not be rushing to leave each other. Pressing my head up against the wood with my right hand balled up into a fist again I bang on it a few times before letting a few tears fall. 

Angry? Sad? Confused? Heartbroken? I don't know if any or all of them are the cause of these tears but I know that this is something that's going to be hard for us to come back from. 

I get a text the next morning, with me not having slept a wink I jump at the notification and rush to open it when I see that it's you. 

'I need you to pack up some stuff and leave for a few days. I need the house and I need a place to think. We can talk about this later. Please just give me some space'  is the short and simple text I get from you and an immediate pit settles in my stomach that I know won't go away until we talk this through. 

I respond with a simple 'Okay'  and take some time to pack a bag and text a friend to see if I can stay. Luckily they oblige and tell me I can stay as long as I want. 

However kind that offer might be I really hope I won't be needing to stay that long.

~~~~~~

A day turns into days and days turn into weeks until I finally get fed up and head over to our place. Well...hopefully still our place. 

That's how we've ended up here...

"Jungkook this is exactly what you told me the last time" you say, pinching the bridge of your nose, a habit you seemed to have developed recently. "There's really nothing more to tell. I would never do anything to hurt you y/n..." I say trailing off and trying to reach for your hand but you pull away before I can even reach you so I sit back into my seat and keep my distance. 

"Letting her in hurt me. Letting her come in and drink our favorite wine out of our wine glasses hurt me. Having her put our pictures face down all over the house hurt me. Having her fucking smell all over our sheets hurt me. Seeing her fucking lipstick stain that I had to scrub out of them hurt me. Seeing her in our fucking bed with you on top of her ripped my heart to shreds. The fact that you couldn't stop her from doing any of these things broke me" you list off and I know that I did let her do all of that. I didn't want her to, but I let it happen anyway. 

"I would've stopped her but-" "But what? You couldn't because you're scared of her? Or is it because you're still in love with her?" you throw at me and that's the last straw. "You know I don't why the fuck would I ever love someone like her?" I raise my voice not even believing you could possibly think that I still love her. 

"You don't have a backbone when it comes to her and you know it! You let her walk all over you during your relationship and you're letting her fucking ruin ours. No matter what we do we're never going to get rid of her" you say, standing up to make yourself seem bigger and I stand up as well, not for the same purpose but in hopes to get closer to you. 

"We can figure this out" I say bringing my voice back down, knowing that a louder voice won't fix anything or make you hear me out any better. "We've been trying to figure this out for the last three fucking years Jungkook. Three. We've moved twice just to get rid of her but she always finds us and she's never going to stop no matter how hard we try. I'm sorry but I can't keep doing this" You say walking into our bedroom to get away from me but I follow you just as I did before you left. 

"I know you don't mean that..." I trail off but the thing is is that I don't know, from the way you're acting now I can't tell and that scares me. 

"Really? You don't think I mean it? Fine. You can have the apartment because I'm moving out" you say and I widen my eyes and know for a fact that there's no way I can fix things right now. "Don't leave, you can have the place. I'll go" I say hurriedly and walk back to the living room to try and process things and you follow right behind me. 

"And take the chance that she'll keep coming around here just to see if she can get a glimpse of you? No way. Neither of you are going to know where I live unless I tell you myself. I'm done. We're done" you say motioning between the two of us. 

"There's nothing I can do to fix this is there?" I ask with my head hung low and although I know the answer I still torture myself with hearing the words from your lips. 

I look up when I don't get an answer right away and that somehow gives me hope, thinking that you're taking time to think it over but I'm met with that same blank stare that I was greeted with at the door. This time with no words left unsaid. 

"No, there's not" and even without those three words uttered from your lips...

Your eyes tell me everything I need to know.

Your eyes, the ones that I used to get lost in. Your eyes that would shine when I made you laugh. Your eyes that would cry at the smallest of things. Your eyes, the ones that used to tell me that you would love me forever are void of any emotion. All the love and all the joy gone, even less than a distant memory and I can't bring myself to look at them anymore. 

I turn away to hide my eyes. To hide how much my heart is breaking because showing you my tears will do no good. My eyes that still shine when I lay my eyes on you. My eyes that are still fascinated by every move you make. 

My eyes that are screaming out how much I love you and begging you to love me too.

I hear noises behind me telling me you're gathering your things up and I wipe away the tears that had started to fall when I hear the bedroom door close and your footsteps make their way down the hall. 

"I'll send someone over to grab the rest of my things later" you say while taking inventory of the room around us, making sure you have everything for the time being. "I'll text you when they're gonna come over so if you could help them out by gathering some of it up beforehand I would appreciate it" you request.

"Yes, of course. Anything you need" I say in agreement, wanting to help you although my heart is screaming at me to get down on my knees and beg you to take me back. I save both of us the drama of that whole scene because I know your mind is made up and again, no one can convince you to change it once you're at that point. 

You walk over to me and place your hand on my neck to pull my face down like you had time and time again when you kissed me and I know that however much I want to melt into it and pretend like everything was just a bad dream I know that this kiss is full of sorrow.

This is probably the cruelest thing you could've ever done to me but I deepen the kiss regardless and pull you in by your waist, holding you as tight as I can because I know that this will be the last time yet somehow hoping that with this one kiss I could convince you to stay. Before it can lead to something else you break the kiss and lean your forehead against mine, our breath intermingling and keeping us lost in each other one last time. 

"Goodbye Jungkook" are your final words to me before you place your hands on my arms in a silent plea to release you and although it breaks me I do as you wish. I know this moment will haunt me and I know I will hate myself for not saying anything back but I can't bring myself to respond. 

I let my head hang and the last thing I'm left with is the sound of you placing your keys on the table before you walk out the door. Closing the chapter that I thought was going to last forever. 

Walking over and slumping down onto the couch I pull out the thing that I had forgotten was in my back pocket, no doubt having damaged the box a bit and I toss it onto the coffee table, a reminder of the question I never got to ask you...

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[beyondspaceandstars]

valentine's day with matt

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day! This is a quick little headcanon/thoughts/scenario (?) I came up with. I’ve had a strong Daredevil fixation lately. But, anyway, this is just a silly little fun thing but I hope you enjoy it. I don’t know if it’s very good but it’s festive and sweet, I think :)

also apparently there is a limit to how many characters you can use in a bullet-point list so i apologize for the atrocious formatting, i can't figure out how to get around that dumbass rule with this text editor

There is no doubt in my mind that Matt is an absolute romantic when he’s in a real, stable relationship

He doesn’t let himself into them but when he finds a person and dedicates himself fully, there’s no holding him back from worshipping his partner

Matt met you in the late spring, way past Valentine’s Day for that year, and frankly, he wasn’t sure if you’d want to stick around past the summertime

He got nervous when you two started getting serious and when he eventually let you in on his nighttime activities he was sure you would run for the hills

But you hadn’t

And the next thing you both knew… it was the season of love. Valentine’s Day. Your first Valentine’s Day together was just around the corner.

You truly didn’t expect much. Maybe a nice dinner and flowers—the expectation of flowers would even be pushing it. In your past relationships, Valentine’s Day hadn’t been anything. You’d try to get your partners to do thing, go out on dates with you, but no one ever seemed very interested in it all.

“It’s a holiday to sell things,” your last boyfriend had said to you when you’d asked him if he wanted to have a nice dinner at your favorite steakhouse. It was then that you had simply assumed men just didn’t do Valentine’s Day.

Matt, on the other hand, was stressing—seriously stressing—over February 14th.

The man would be practically making himself sick trying to plan out the day. But he was very good at hiding his stress. At least, from you. Foggy wasn’t spared from witnessing Matt’s panic.

"What about that new Italian place around the corner? Does it look nice?"

"Matt, do you think you’re maybe overthinking all of it?"

Matt would never admit if he was but…yes, he was.

You were unaware of it all and tried not to think too hard about the holiday. You had gotten Matt a small gift and were going to suggest having a night in with a nice dinner and a bottle or two of wine…

But then he caught you off guard.

You were out for lunch with him the day before Valentine’s Day. You two didn’t work too far from one another and so lunch dates (depending on your schedules, of course) had become a pretty regular part of your weekly routine.

It was about halfway through your lunchtime when, out of nowhere, completely unprompted, Matt said, "I made us reservations for tomorrow night at an Italian restaurant not too far from here."

Your jaw went slack and your heartbeat shot up. The concern that fell on Matt’s face told you he noticed.

"If… If that’s okay with you," he stammered, trying to walk back on his words. "If you don’t want to do anything for Valentine’s Day, I understand, I’m sure I can cancel—,"

"No!" Your outburst took both of you by surprise. You almost start laughing out of nervousness. "I mean, I’d love to. It sounds amazing, I was just…surprised. No guy I’ve been with has ever really wanted to do anything on Valentine’s Day."

Matt frowned. A deep, serious frown. "You’ve never gone out for Valentine’s Day?"

"Not really." You felt your cheeks go warm. "I’m very excited." Your heartbeat hadn’t settled since he mentioned dinner plans.

The next day, you were giddy. You had stayed over at Matt’s place and decided to wake up early to make him a nice breakfast. He was speechless. You two would exchange "Happy Valentine’s Day" before swapping sweet kisses and going your separate ways for the day.

You’d assume you wouldn’t hear from Matt again until dinner time but then a giant — giant — bouquet of roses was delivered to your office. You were stunned. As were your coworkers. And then the flowers made you hopelessly tear up.

It was already the best Valentine’s Day you’ve ever had and you still had dinner to look forward to.

After work, you returned to your apartment and freshened up.

You were quite nervous for some reason. It didn’t make sense. You’d been going out with Matt for almost a year. You two had been on numerous dates. Hell — you two slept together regularly. But this? Valentine’s Day dinner? This was what was making you all jittery?

It was a mix between never really knowing what to expect for Valentine’s Day and wanting everything to go perfectly.

Matt was patiently waiting for you outside the restaurant when you arrived. You saw a smirk creep its way onto his lips, no doubt sensing your presence.

"Hi, honey," you said as you approached and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "You made quite the ruckus at my office today with that garden of flowers you sent."

Matt chuckled. "Were they okay? I kind of had to trust the florist’s opinion and he could’ve scammed me for all I know."

You laughed. "They’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen."

"You clearly haven’t looked in the mirror lately."

"Matthew Murdock, you’re silly."

The restaurant he had chosen was stunning. Very fancy, very chic. A nice modern, clearly high-end, Italian restaurant. You gasped when you saw the array of artistic decor. It was just all so…romantic.

"Is it… Do you like it? Is this okay? I also had to trust Foggy for advice on this place—,"

"It’s wonderful, Matt. Everything is so wonderful."

He took your elbow and gave it a squeeze.

The hostess then escorted you two to your table, Matt continued holding onto your elbow and you had to keep yourself from laughing. No doubt he had already mapped out the place in his head.

Your table was in the back of the establishment, kind of hidden and private. You wondered if Matt had dropped some extra money to get something so intimate. You were tearing up at the thought.

"Are you okay?" Matt asked after you two took your seats.

"You make me feel so special."

Wordlessly, Matt found your hand and kissed the back of it. It was almost silly but it made your heart skip a beat. Seriously, you felt like a teenager on a first date.

You diverted your attention to the menu. You quickly realized Matt had the same one as you — a.k.a. a menu he couldn’t exactly read. It looked like Matt came to the same realization as you when he picked it up.

"Oh, should I see if they—,"

Matt shook his head. "Read it to me?" He leaned back in his seat, waiting, a little cocky or proud of himself.

You blushed. "Sure, I think I can manage that."

Dinner went by very nicely. You raved about the food and Matt looked relieved that you enjoyed it. You two even split a dessert. Matt "accidentally" got whipped cream on your cheek, which he just had to clean up himself. You teased him it was just a ploy to get close to you and he didn’t deny it.

Afterward, you two walked arm and arm back to his place. The night was peaceful and lovely and…perfect.

"I have a gift to give you later," you said, breaking the silence.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Mhm," you sighed. "Well, maybe I have a couple of gifts."

"Oh?" Matt smirked.

"I gotta thank my lovely boyfriend properly. This was the best Valentine’s Day," you admitted.

Matt stopped on the sidewalk. The streets were quiet and empty. His arm untangled from yours, his hands grinding your waist with ease. "It’s not over yet," Matt said in a hushed tone. "Besides, I might have a couple of gifts for you as well."

And then he kissed you deeply. The world around you felt like it had stopped.

"Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart."

"Happy Valentine’s Day, honey."

[badasbebi]

the cupid project ➛ 2/2

part one

✦ pairing: bada lee x fem!reader

✦ summary: you and your long-term work crush devise a plan to win a company contest. in the end, you wind up going to extreme lengths to commit to the bit

✦ genre/au: fluff, smut MDNI!!, fake dating, videographer reader, bada's extra sweet here, slight friends to lovers

✦ word count: 7k

✦ warnings: isn't proofread. top!bada. bada carries a strap and im not talking about a gun. fingering.

✦ a/n: happy (early) valentine's day!

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

When the two of you arrive, the bowling alley is mostly empty, save for the JustJerk employees milling around and a couple of people hanging out in the arcade. The staff member at the counter gives you a warm greeting and directs the two of you to the lane your friends are at. 

You walk up the ramp, scanning the area. The first person you spot is Hoyeon, who is sitting down, chatting with Minho. When she notices the two of you, her lips stretch into a wide smile and she raises a hand to wave. You return the gesture, and the two of you approach her.

"Hi," you smile, plopping down onto the seat next to her. Bada sits next to you, effectively sandwiching you between the two women.

"Hey, guys," she greets, a twinkle in her eyes.

"Did we miss anything?" Bada asks.

"Just the boys getting their asses beat by the girls,” Hoyeon says, glancing at the time on her phone.

"Sounds about right," Bada chuckles.

"Hey! We're not that bad!" Minho says, mock-offended.

"Sure, Minho," Hoyeon says, smirking.

"I don't know. I'm not that great either," you admit.

"Really? Why?" Bada questions.

"I guess I'm just not competitive," you shrug.

"Well you’re gonna have to start getting competitive. I can’t let you be the one who lets the boys get a hold on us,” Bada proclaims, nudging you.

“Why not? We could have a tie, then. Wouldn’t that be nice, Minho? For the boys to not be so embarrassingly outplayed all the time?" you suggest, earning a glare from Minho.

"Oh, shut up," he mutters, causing the three of you to laugh.

"Anyway, y/n, if you’re really that bad, don’t worry about it. I’ll help you out,” Bada promises, placing a hand on your knee. You try not to react.

"Okay, cool, thank you.” You nod, trying not to react.

“No problem,” she says, planting a quick kiss on your cheek. You were going to die before tonight was over.

You glance at Hoyeon, who, upon seeing the exchange, smirks. “So, I'm guessing you two are getting along well?"

"Yeah," Bada grins. "I think so."

"That's good," Hoyeon smiles. "I'm glad."

"Thanks," you reply, avoiding her eyes. You haven’t told Hoyeon that you were faking things with Bada. After the pictures dropped, Hoyeon was one of the first people to text you about it, sending you a flurry of messages full of profanities for not having kept her updated. You’re not sure why you don’t want to tell her the truth. You know she’d be able to keep a secret.

But a part of you knows that you’re enjoying the pretending a bit too much. If you fess up, it would make the reality of the situation more apparent, and the thought of that is starting to disappoint you more than the idea of losing the prize, altogether. 

“Hey! There you two are,” Youngj shouts, breaking your train of thought. He makes his way toward you, followed by Redllic wearing a sour expression on her face.

Youngj stops in front of your group, placing his hands on his hips. "You're late," he pouts.

"Sorry, boss," Bada apologizes.

"It's okay. You're not the only ones," he says, sighing. “Are you guys gonna come play or what?”

"We're coming, we're coming," Bada replies, grabbing your hand and pulling you up.

“Eat em’ up, girls!” Hoyeon shouts with a whoop, followed by loud booing from Minho.

"Let's go," Bada smiles, squeezing your hand.

"Right," you reply, ignoring the racing of your heart.

Bada drops your hand, walking over to the rack and grabbing a bowling ball. She turns around, giving you a thumbs up and a cute smile. You roll your eyes and she laughs, turning back around.

As she steps forward to take her turn, you catch a whiff of her perfume. It's intoxicating.

The ball rolls down the lane and knocks down nine pins. You close your eyes, resisting the urge to shout. Why was this woman good at everything?

Bada throws the ball again, knocking the last pin over and finishing her frame with a strike. The crowd applauds, and she does a cute little curtsy, which you find unreasonably adorable.

You watch her, transfixed, as she approaches you.

"Good job," you say, a bit too enthusiastically.

"Thank you," she smiles, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Now, it's your turn."

"Alright, alright," you say, making your way over to the ball rack.

You select a red ball, testing the weight. It's heavy, but not too much, and fits comfortably in your hands.

"Remember, use the guide, aim for the middle, and throw slowly," Bada calls, and you nod, not turning around.

You position the ball against your chest, lining up your feet. Then, in one swift motion, you push the ball forward and release it.

The ball lands directly in the gutter, rolling down and colliding with thin air. You groan, watching the screen count up the pins you hit, or lack thereof. Zero. 

"It's okay. Here, I'll show you," Bada says, placing her hands on your shoulders and guiding you over to the middle of the lane.

"First, you want to line up your feet." She says, standing behind you. "And then, you want to position your shoulders and the rest of your body."

You do as she instructs, attempting to focus on her directions.

"Then, the key is to relax and to keep your arm loose. If you tense up, your ball will go all over the place," she says, wrapping her hands around your bicep, massaging it a bit. "So, take a deep breath, and just throw the ball."

You breathe deeply, closing your eyes. You feel the weight of her arms leave your own, and then the weight of her hand on your back.

"Ready?" she whispers, and you nod.

"Okay," she says, patting you, signaling that she has moved.

You exhale, opening your eyes and swinging the ball forward.

You release the ball, and it glides down the lane, knocking eight pins down. You can hear the cheers, but the sound is muffled.

"You did it!" Bada exclaims, hugging you tightly from behind. You laugh, returning her embrace.

"You did most of the work," you say, grinning.

"You would have gotten it without me eventually.”

"Whatever you say," you say, not wanting to argue.

The rest of the night passes by quickly, with you and the girls absolutely destroying the guys, filled with laughter and smiles. By the end of the night, your stomach is sore and your cheeks are aching. When you’re not laughing with one of your coworkers, you’re with Bada, giggling at her jokes, listening to her stories, and being a part of her world. And in the moments when you think nobody is looking, she looks at you and smiles, her eyes soft and sparkling.

Toward the end of the night, you head to the bathroom, fixing your makeup and taking a few breaths. 

After you finish, you exit the restroom, walking over to the bar and ordering a glass of water. As you wait, you notice Bada talking to Redllic, their faces stern and serious. You can't hear what they're saying, but something about their expressions is making you nervous.

"Here's your water," the bartender says, handing you the cup.

"Thank you," you respond, accepting the drink. You take a sip, trying to act casual, but you're not fooling anyone. You knew Bada and Redllic had some kind of romantic history, but you weren’t sure how significant it was.

After a moment, Bada and Redllic separate, heading toward different ends of the bar. Bada makes her way over to you, her features still hardened.

"Are you okay?" you ask, concern filling your tone.

"Yes. I'm fine," she replies, her voice stiff.

"Do you want to talk about it?" you offer.

"Not now. Let’s just have fun, yeah?" she says, a forced smile appearing on her lips.

"Okay," you say, reaching over and squeezing her hand. She squeezes back.

"You know, you look nice tonight," she compliments.

"Thanks," you smile, blushing slightly. "You do, too."

"Thank you," she says, and a small grin replaces her false smile. "So, are you having fun?"

"Yeah, I am," you nod. "A lot of fun. It’s a good thing you dragged me out here, seriously. I’m actually good at bowling now.”

"I mean, you weren’t that bad of a student. It’s not like you needed much help. I’m almost wondering if you faked being bad," Bada teases.

"What?! Of course not. How could you think that?" you exclaim, feigning offense.

"Mhm, I don’t know, you seemed pretty excited when I came to help you out. I think I felt your heartbeat over there," she laughs, poking your arm.

Oh shit. You’ve been found out.

You cross your arms, stubborn and determined to get yourself out of this. "Well, was it necessary to get so handsy with it? Do you do that with all of your students?”

"Only the cute ones," Bada says, staring you down. 

Your heart races. This was escalating quickly. “Well, then, I guess I’ll consider myself lucky."

"You should," she says, a smirk appearing on her lips. “I could get much more handsy, if you wanted me to."

What the hell was going on? As much as you and Bada have casually flirted, it’s never gotten this bold. Whatever happened while you were in the bathroom must have seriously messed with her brain. Maybe she’s experiencing face blindness and thinks you’re someone else.

"Oh, how so?" you ask, playing along, testing the waters.

"I can show you," she says, placing a hand on the side of your face, brushing her thumb across your cheek. She moves her other hand onto your lower back, her grip light, yet firm. You shiver, leaning into her touch.

"What do you think?" she whispers.

"I think I'd like that very much," you admit, feeling her breath on your neck.

"Good," she murmurs, her eyes locking onto yours.

She closes the space between you, and her lips are on yours. She tastes like the fruity wine she had earlier and her chapstick.

You kiss her back, savoring the moment. Warmth and comfort is all around you, enveloping your senses. You pull away after a moment, catching your breath.

"What's wrong?" Bada asks, searching your face.

"Nothing. Everything's perfect," you say, kissing her again.

You don't care anymore. You just want her.

You move your hands, wrapping them around her neck and pulling her closer, deepening the kiss. Her hands trail up and down your sides, sending goosebumps up and down your arms. She bites your lip gently, and you gasp, tugging on her hair.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, you separate. 

Bada exhales, fixing her bangs.

You stare ahead blankly, your mind fuzzy. But, through the haze, you feel a wave of euphoria rush over you, and you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from grinning. There was not a single part of you that would've guessed that you'd end up kissing Bada Lee upon joining Justjerk. Really, you were surprised she even gave you the time of day in the first place. You'd spent months trying to work up the courage to speak to her, and when the chance came, you almost choked and avoided her, too overwhelmed by the mere thought of speaking to her. But, as the old adage goes, life's full of surprises.

Bada twists her head to the side, staring at something, or someone with a furrowed brow.

"Hey, what's wrong?" you ask, placing a hand on her forearm.

"Oh, nothing. I was just looking out for Redllic," she replies, her frown melting into a small, apologetic smile.

The smile that you were trying to hold back disappears, replaced with a cold, hard pit of dread. "What about her?"

"She's over there," Bada nods, tilting her chin. You don't bother to turn to look. "You know that conversation you saw us have? She came up to me and accused us of pretending to get together for the money. Said there was no way we actually got together that fast. I, of course, denied it. Hopefully that kiss will shut her up."

"Oh. That makes sense. Sorry for not being more helpful," you apologize, your voice coming out hollow.

"Don't be," she says, her words rushed. "I didn't tell you about it because I didn't wanna worry you. But, we're in this together, right?"

"Yeah, definitely," you say, attempting to ignore the lump in your throat.

"That's good. Now, what were we talking about?" Bada asks, grinning.

Were you even talking about anything? You can't remember, too preoccupied with the dull feeling in the center of your chest. It's not like you were expecting Bada and you to be an actual couple. You were well aware that whatever relationship the two of you shared was just a facade. But hearing the reason why she kissed you was like a bucket of ice water poured over your head, reminding you of reality.

"I can't remember. Actually, I think I'm feeling a little sick," you lie.

"Oh, are you alright?" she asks, her voice laced with concern.

"Yeah. Don't worry about me. It’s probably something I ate. I'm just gonna head home, I think. You don't have to come with. I'll catch an Uber," you reply, forcing a weak smile.

"What? No, don't waste your money. I'll drive you home. Let me just grab my stuff," she offers, but you shake your head.

"It's really okay. I don't want you to miss out on fun with your friends," you insist, the ache in your throat growing. Why'd she have to be so nice?

"No, I insist. I'll drop you off and come back."

"Bada-"

"Y/N, please," she interrupts. "You're important to me. You're my friend. Helping you out isn't a big deal."

Her words simultaneously break your heart and fix it, and, finally, you give in.

"Fine," you sigh.

She grins. "Now, stay put," she commands, a stern expression replacing her worried one.

"Yes ma'am," you salute.

"Good girl," she teases, and you just stare, your face turning pink.

Bada walks off, and you stare into your glass, the ice having melted. After a moment, she returns, her jacket and backpack slung over her shoulder.

"Ready?" she asks, and you nod, following her out of the bar.

The night is cold and dark, and the stars are shining bright. The sound of the wind fills the air, and your footsteps seem loud, crunching against the ground.

You get to the parking lot and walk over to her car. Bada unlocks the doors, and you open the passenger door before she can do it for you, ignoring the frown on her face. You slide in, put your seatbelt on, and she turns the key, the engine roaring to life.

The ride home is filled with an awkward silence, neither of you sure of what to say. Finally, Bada clears her throat.

"Listen, y/n. Are you upset with me, or something? If I did or said anything to make you mad you, I'm sorry," she says, her voice tight.

"No, it's not that," you assure, and she relaxes a bit. "I'm just feeling sick. Like I said."

"Alright," she sighs.

You arrive at your house, and you unbuckle your seatbelt. "Thanks for the ride."

"Of course. I'm glad I could help. Goodnight," she says, and you nod.

"Night," you say, exiting the vehicle.

You head up the path, the wind causing your hair to fly in your face. As you are about to reach the front steps, Bada pulls her car back, reversing. She rolls the passenger window down, sticking her head out.

"Wait!" she shouts, and you freeze, your hand gripping the railing.

"What?" you call back, confused.

"I-uh...ugh," she exclaims, her forehead wrinkling. "I can't just leave you alone. Not when you're sick. Let me take care of you. Please."

You blink. You just could not get rid of this woman. "I'll be fine," you reply, shortly, turning toward your building again. 

"At least let me walk you inside. Then, I'll leave," she offers.

You groan, stopping in your tracks with your eyes closed in frustration. It was too cold for this. "Fine," you mutter.

"Great," she says, and the relief in her voice makes you feel guilty.

"But only for a few minutes. And only because I know how persistent you are."

"Thank you," she says, and the sincerity in her voice makes your chest tighten.

She turns her car off, grabs her backpack, and hops out of the vehicle. You lead her into the building, and the two of you make your way up the stairs, eventually arriving at your door.

You unlock it, and the two of you enter. Your apartment is dark and silent, and the sound of your breathing is loud.

"Well, here it is. It's not much, but it's home," you shrug, flipping the light switch on.

"It's cozy," she smiles, and you can't help but grin, too.

"Yeah. Um, would you like some water, or tea, or anything?"

"No, thank you. I'm okay," she replies, adjusting her backpack straps.

"Alright, then," you say, standing in the entryway.

The awkward silence returns, and the two of you stare at each other, neither knowing what to do. Finally, Bada steps forward, closing the space between the two of you.

"Are you sure you're okay? You seemed pretty distant toward the end of the night," she asks, her features soft.

"Yeah. Like I said, not feeling great. Must have been the food," you repeat yourself  robotically, not looking her in the eye.

She frowns. "I'm sorry."

"Why? It's not your fault," you shrug, avoiding her gaze.

"It is, though. Isn’t it? You're my friend, and I care about you. So, if something is bothering you, I want to know and work it out,” she pauses, a guilt-ridden expression overtaking her features. "If this is about the kiss...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

Your stomach drops, and your eyes widen. "What? Why?"

"Because," she sighs, rubbing the back of her neck. "I took advantage of the situation. I should've just told Redllic to fuck off. Or maybe even asked you if you were comfortable with it beforehand."

"You didn't take advantage of me," you argue. 

"Still. It wasn't right. I shouldn't have done it. I'm sorry," she repeats, looking at the ground.

"You don't need to be sorry," you insist.

"Really?"

"Yeah," you nod.

"Okay," she says, the crease between her eyebrows disappearing. "Well, then, I guess I should go."

"I guess so," you agree, not making a move.

She hesitates, staring at you. You stare back, your heart racing. She reaches out and takes your hand, giving it a squeeze.

"Goodnight," she whispers, her voice soft.

"Night," you reply, her touch burning your skin.

She releases your hand, turns around, and heads out, the door closing behind her. You watch her leave, your brain going a mile a minute.

You don't know what's wrong with you. It was just a stupid kiss. It meant nothing. But, despite all of that, the pit in your stomach won't go away, and the thought of her lips against yours replays in your mind.

Maybe you were wrong. Maybe it wasn't just a kiss. Maybe it meant everything.

Oh fuck it. Fuck it.

You open the door with a vigor that rivaled that of the Hulk's. "Bada," you call out, sprinting into the hallway.

A few steps down the hall, she freezes.

"What is it?" she asks, turning around, her eyebrows raised.

"Just-just, um," you stammer, your mouth dry. "Come back."

She stares for a second, then smirks. "Okay," she says, walking back with a pep in her step. 

Once she reaches the door, she enters, and the two of you stare at each other, unsure.

"What is it?" Bada asks, her face calm.

"I-uh," you start, then swallow.

Fuck. Why was this so hard? Why couldn't you just be honest with her?

"What?" Bada urges, the smirk returning. You look at the floor, the wall, anything. Finally, you take a deep breath, and look her in the eyes.

"I wanted to ask if...you could maybe stay a little longer," you murmur, your cheeks hot.

She raises an eyebrow, her expression a mixture of amusement and disbelief.

"You sure?"

"Yes," you respond, a little too quickly.

She grins, the smirk replaced with a genuine smile. "Then, I will."

"Okay," you breathe, letting the tension flow from your shoulders.

"So, what did you want to do?" she asks, staring at your lips.

"I don't know," you shrug, not taking your eyes off hers.

"Hmm," she hums, stepping closer.

"Uh, did you wanna, uh, watch TV, or something?" you offer, your voice quiet.

"No," she replies, shaking her head.

"What did you wanna do, then?" you ask, your heartbeat fast.

"Something else." She mutters, and without warning, her lips are on yours again.

She wraps her arms around you, and you immediately melt into her embrace, her scent clouding your senses. Like last time, you wrap your arms around her neck. Her tongue slips into your mouth, exploring, and her hands run down your sides, sending chills down your spine. You let out a moan, and she bites your lip, drawing another from you. 

Your hands tangle in her hair, and hers cup your ass, lifting you up. She carries you over to your bedroom, per your directions, and places you onto your bed gently. Her fingers graze your thigh, and goosebumps pop up all over your body. You pull away, and her eyes are dark.

"Do you want to do this?" she asks, her voice low.

"Yeah," you respond, and she grins.

She kisses you again, and her fingers inch upward, her hand sliding under the hem of your shirt. She traces your skin, leaving a trail of fire, and your breathing quickens.

"Can I take this off?" she asks, pulling at the bottom of your top.

"Yes," you say, lifting yourself off the bed slightly.

She slides your shirt up, and over your head, tossing it aside. She unhooks your bra and discards it, too.

Her eyes linger on your bare chest, and you watch her pupils dilate. You bite your lip, running your hands through her hair.

"Fuck," she growls, and she pushes you back down onto the mattress, her lips trailing from yours to your jaw, your collarbone, your neck, and finally, your chest.

She sucks and nips at the skin there, and you grip her hair tighter, eliciting a moan. She moves downward, kissing down your torso. When her lips reach the waistband of your jeans, she stops, glancing up at you.

"Do you want me to keep going?"

"Yes," you plead, and her mouth curls into a mischievous smirk.

"Okay," she says, and she undoes the button and zipper of your jeans.

She tugs them off and throws them aside, leaving you in just your underwear. Her eyes are on yours, and you're frozen.

"Please," you beg, and she lets out a deep chuckle.

"Begging already?"

"Shut up," you hiss, and she laughs, before her hands slip beneath the hem of your panties.

She pulls the material off, leaving you completely exposed.

"Fuck," she mutters, her eyes wide.

You squirm under her gaze, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "What?"

"You're so fucking sexy," she breathes, her eyes filled with lust.

"Really?"

"Of course. Do you even know what you're doing to me right now?"

"N-no," you mumble, averting your eyes.

"Look at me."

You obey, her usually warm puppy eyes now darkened into something wicked, capturing yours.

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes," you breathe.

"Good. Now, lay down," she commands, her voice firm.

You comply, relaxing your body. She climbs on top of you, her hand resting on top of your thigh. 

"Do you still want to do this?"

"Yes," you affirm, nodding.

"Okay," she says, and then, her hand is between your legs.

Her fingers slide along your wetness, and your breathing quickens. Her eyes are fixed on yours, watching your reaction.

"Shit," you groan, as her finger presses against your clit.

"You like that?" she purrs, her lips ghosting across your skin.

"Mhmm," you moan, her finger circling the sensitive bud.

Her finger slips inside you, and you cry out, throwing your arms around her torso. She pumps slowly, and her thumb brushes against your clit.

"More," you pant, your body trembling.

"Of course," she hums, slipping a second digit into you.

"Ah," you moan, gripping her tightly.

She thrusts her fingers deeper, hitting that special spot within. You gasp, your back arching. You're so wet you can hear the squelch of her digits moving inside you, and you slam your eyes shut, overwhelmed. Her lips meet your neck, her teeth nipping at the sensitive flesh, and your moans are muffled.

"Bada, please," you whimper, her fingers curling against that spongey tissue, the sensation making your toes curl.

"Please what, baby?" she murmurs, her thumb rubbing against your clit, the friction making you shiver.

"Fuck, fuck, I'm close, please," you gasp, your walls tightening around her. "Make me come," you choke, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

"I will," she promises, and her fingers thrust harder, her thumb moving faster. You cry, the tension in your abdomen building.

"That's it, baby, come for me," she coaxes, and with one final brush against that sensitive spot, you shatter.

The orgasm rips through you, and you convulse, your vision blacking out. You gasp for air, trying to catch your breath. She watches you, a satisfied smile on her face as she caresses your sides with her other hand. 

"Did you enjoy that?"

"Yeah," you say, breathless. "But you didn't finish," you frown, your eyes trailing to her still-clothed form.

"Oh, I will," she says, a smirk reappearing. She rolls over, grabbing her backpack.

"What are you doing?" you ask, sitting up.

"I'm not done with you yet," she answers, her smile devilish. You watch, transfixed, as she pulls out a strap-on and a bottle of lube.

"Oh," you exhale, your core heating. This women was going to be the death of you.

"This okay?"

"The fact that you're casually carrying around a strap-on?"

She smiles, sheepishly. "I like to be prepared."

"But, yes, that is more than okay," you say, licking your lips.

"Great," she says, unbuckling her belt and shrugging her pants off, revealing black boxer briefs. She steps into the harness, pulling the straps tight. She squirts some lube onto her hand, reaching for the dildo, but you stop her.

"Wait-can I?"

"Go ahead," she nods, giving you a smile.

You kneel on the bed, facing her. You gather some lube onto your hand, then coat the silicone. Your hand runs along the length, and your eyes are fixated on the fake cock. It's large, and ribbed, and the mere sight of it makes your thighs squeeze together.

"Like what you see?"

"Yeah," you whisper, looking at her.

She grins, her hands tangling themselves into your hair, pulling you forward. Your lips crash into hers, and she pulls away, her hands tugging your head backward.

"How do you want to do this, pretty girl?"

"I-I don't know," you stammer, flustered.

She chuckles, releasing her hold on your hair. "Lay back down."

You follow her orders, laying back against the pillows.

"Spread your legs," she commands, her tone firm.

You do as she says, your pussy aching. She positions herself in front of you, and leans forward, her lips brushing against your ear.

"Ready?"

"Yes," you sigh, wrapping your arms around her again.

She guides the dildo into you, and the tip teases your entrance, the cool silicone sending shivers through you. She pushes into you, and you gasp, the ribbed surface scraping against your walls.

"Is this okay?"

"Yeah," you moan, squeezing her.

She hums and begins to thrust, hard, the silicone stretching you open.

"Fuck," you cry, digging your nails into her back. Her mouth reaches your neck, sucking, and biting, the sensations overwhelming.

She picks up the pace, your bed squeaking in response, and your hips buck, the pleasure building.

"Oh god, oh fuck," you whine, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes.

"So beautiful," she murmurs, her voice strained.

"Bada, please, faster," you beg, your muscles tensing up. 

"Fuck," she hisses, her pace quickening.

"Yes, yes," you pant, the coil in your stomach tightening.

"You gonna come, baby?"

"Yes, fuck, I'm so close," you moan, her words pushing you closer.

"That's it, come for me," she groans, her thrusts getting sloppier.

"Fuck, Bada," you whine, and you break, the orgasm consuming you. You scream as you ride the waves of ecstasy, her name tumbling from your lips. You cling to her, shaking, the intensity nearly blinding.

"Fuck," you whisper, the euphoria fading, and exhaustion taking over.

"That's it, good girl," she whispers, slowing her thrusts.

You let go, sinking into the bed, your mind hazy. She pulls out of you, and removes the strap-on, tossing it onto the floor. She lays down beside you, and you snuggle into her, your head resting on her chest.

"Fuck," you mutter, unable to form a coherent sentence.

"That was fun," she says, her tone teasing.

"Yeah," you sigh, nuzzling closer.

She strokes your hair, her fingers soothing.

"We should get some rest," she says, her voice low.

"Mhm," you hum, your eyes closing.

You feel her place a kiss on the top of your head, and a smile forms on your face. You drift off, a grin still on your face, and a certain someone's heartbeat the last thing you hear.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Bada was nowhere to be seen. After you woke up to an empty bed, you searched your house, convinced she was playing a prank on you. No trace of her, her clothes, her bag. You tried to call her, but her phone was turned off. It was as if she'd vanished into thin air.

And so, there you sat, in your apartment, where you slept with her, alone, wondering if you hallucinated the whole thing. Maybe, the stress of working at Justjerk, the pressure of living up to your expectations had finally gotten to you, and caused a nervous breakdown. But, no. She was there, she was real, and she'd given you the best night of your life. The best week of your life. So, where was she?

As the days dragged on, your heart grew heavy. Your calls went unanswered, texts left on read. You didn't even see her at work. The other teachers at Justjerk asked around about her, but the only answer everyone had was that she'd called in sick. You were worried, confused, and mostly hurt. What had happened? Did she regret it, and that was why she disappeared?

In addition to that, your deadline was approaching. People seemed convinced enough that you two were dating at this point, but it probably didn't look good to show up to the Valentine's Day party without your supposed girlfriend. 

You're sitting at home, silently wallowing next to Hoyeon, who is lying on your couch after coming over to your house to edit because of her noisy neighbors. While you're aimlessly shifting your oatmeal around in its bowl, you hear her slam her laptop shut with an exhale. 

"Y/n, is everything okay?" she asks, her tone concerned 

"Yeah, I'm fine," you say.

She shifts on the couch. "Really? Cause it doesn't seem like it."

"It's nothing," you shrug, pushing the bowl away.

"Come on, you can talk to me."

"I just-," you start, before pausing.

"Take your time," she says, her voice gentle.

"I think something's wrong with Bada," you say, quietly.

"Isn’t she sick?"

"I don’t know. I don’t think so. I actually haven't seen or heard from her since, uh, last week. And she won't answer my calls or texts."

"Huh, that's weird. Why?"

"I-I don't know. She just up and left. We had sex, and the next morning, she was gone. Like she'd never been there," you confess, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

"Hey," Hoyeon says, reaching over and rubbing your shoulder. 

"I'm sorry. I'm just-,"

"It's okay. You're allowed to feel this way. I mean, who does that to their girlfriend? That's horrible," Hoyeon huffs, a look of indignance crossing her features.

You cough. "We're not-we're not really dating. Well, I think we aren't," you admit. 

She stops her ministrations. "What do you mean?"

"We-uh, pretended to date. To win the contest."

She blinks, processing this in silence. Then, she lets out a loud guffaw, the force causing her to slip off the couch and land on the floor.

"What's so funny?" you ask in disbelief. 

"You-you are so ridiculous," she manages, her body shaking with laughter.

"Ridiculous? Why?"

"Do-do you not realize that the two of you have been pining over each other since the day you started at the studio?"

"Wh-what? No. We have not," you insist.

"Yes, you have," she giggles, wiping a tear from her eye.

"How could you tell?"

"It's so obvious! Listen, I don't know what kind of weird situationship you guys have gotten into but I don't think anyone is pretending to like anyone, here."

"But she left me!" you argue, exasperated.

"Maybe she was being stupid. Or embarrassed. Who knows? But, she definitely has a thing for you. She's been bothering the videographers forever asking for you. Were you the one who suggested you fake date?"

You blink. "No.”

She laughs again, picking herself up off the floor. "Exactly. Now, have you told her how you really feel?"

"What? No."

"Then, go do that! That's probably why she ran for the hills. Just go to her house and confess."

"I-okay. You're right," you say, standing up.

"Damn straight I'm right. Now, go get your woman," she grins, ushering you towards the door.

You give her a smile, and step outside, a new sense of confidence flowing through you. What were you so afraid of anyway? She wouldn't have done all that she did if she didn't care about you, right? You needed to find her, and tell her. Tell her everything.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

After driving to a random neighborhood and being hit with the realization that you had no idea where Bada lived, you receive a text from Hoyeon just in time with an address.

The sun was just beginning to set, and the sky was a beautiful gradient of blue, pink, and purple. You drive for a bit, eventually making your way to a more residential area, until you find yourself parked outside of an apartment complex.

You exit your car and make your way inside. When you arrive at her unit, the door opens before you can even knock.

"Oh, y/n, hi," Badi says, her voice raspy, her eyes wide. 

She looks unlike herself. Her hair is unkempt, her skin paler than usual. Her clothes are rumpled and her eyes are red, like she's been awake for days.

"Hi, are you okay?" you ask, worried.

"I've been better," she shrugs, looking away.

"Can I come in?"

"Oh, uh, yeah, sure."

She steps aside and you enter. The interior is what you'd expect from her; tidy, and simple.

"Are you hungry?" she offers, gesturing towards her kitchen.

"No, I'm good. Thanks."

"Okay."

You stand in the middle of her living room, the tension growing by the second.

"I've been trying to reach you," you start, tentatively.

"Oh, yeah, sorry, my phone's dead," she lies.

"Really? Because, the first few times I called, it rang," you say, crossing your arms.

She sighs, and walks over to the couch, flopping down. "I'm sorry," she mumbles, burying her face in her hands.

"Sorry? For what? Leaving me alone in bed, with no explanation, not answering my calls or texts for the past week, and lying to my face?"

"I didn't mean to-,"

"Why'd you run?"

"Because I was scared," she says, looking up.

"Of what?"

"This," she admits, gesturing between the two of you.

"You're not scared of anything," you scoff.

"I'm scared of you, y/n."

"Me? Why would you be scared of me?"

"Because I've liked you ever since the day you walked into the studio. I wasn't lying when I said I think you're amazing. And then I didn't want to ruin the friendship that we built."

"So, you pretend to be my girlfriend, sleep with me, and then leave without a word?"

"I'm sorry. I wasn’t initially planning on doing things this way. But you brought up the fake-dating and I thought maybe if we pretended, that'd be enough. It wasn't, and I let my feelings get  ahead of me. And, I'm sorry," she confesses, her gaze dropping.

You review that first meeting you had in the dance studio. For the first time, you realize that Bada actually didn’t suggest fake-dating you. You did. She just proposed that you approach things romantically, rather than platonically. Which could have easily been her attempt at asking you out. 

Whoops. 

You exhale slowly, sitting down next to her. "You know, it's funny. I was coming over here to tell you the same thing. You're really special to me. And, I didn't know how to express that for real. So, I thought, if I was in a fake relationship with you, then it would be easier to do that. Guess, I was wrong too," you say, smiling sadly.

"So, does that mean-,"

You roll your eyes. "Yes, Bada, I like you."

"Oh," she says, smiling, looking away again. 

You bite down on your lip. "So, what are we gonna do now?"

She fully turns toward you, a hopeful gleam in her eyes. "I guess, we can start over. If you want. Go on a real date?"

"Sure," you reply, a warmth blossoming in your chest.

"Cool," she says, her expression brightening.

"Cool," you echo, the two of you grinning, staring at each other like idiots.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Please," you whisper, and she leans forward, her lips capturing yours.  You close your eyes, sinking into her touch, the worries, and anxiety of the past week disappearing. Who would've thought that a silly team-building exercise within your company would have ended up leading to this? You almost wanted to ask Bada to pinch you, but, the feeling of her hands cupping your cheeks, and the taste of her mouth, was enough to reassure you that this was real-that the whole thing had been real the entire time. And now that you knew it was, you couldn't wait to explore it further, and discover more about the beautiful woman next to you, who has stolen your heart.

Or, maybe you should give that credit to Cupid. After all, the Cupid Project turned out to be way more successful than you, or Youngj, could've ever imagined.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Not. 

"How did we lose?!" You nearly screech, watching Hoyeon and Howl stand in the middle of the room with a check in their hands. 

Bada stares at them with a frown. "I don't get it either. Isn't Hoyeon a lesbian?"

Youngj appears out of thin air, sliding into your line of sight. More accurately, it is his bright red fuzzy sweater with pink hearts that captures your eye. "Irrelevant to the contest. Remember, this project was not meant to encourage new workplace relationships."

"But—"

"Nope," he pops the 'p', "You two are very cute, but you lost because you two idiots were already in love with each other, and were just too stupid to admit it. You didn't even need to be a part of the cupid project."

You groan.

"On the bright side, we have free heart-shaped sugar cookies in the corner. Congratulations, Y/n and Bada, on a job well done. Please don't break up, because I do not want to deal with any workplace drama. Goodbye." He disappears again, leaving the two of you staring at the ground.

You guess you were gonna have to say goodbye to that camera, as well. 

Bada turns to you, offering a small smile. "Are you okay?"

You shrug. "It's alright. I didn't need the money anyway. I got something much better out of this whole thing."

She blushes, her cheeks matching the color of her plain red sweatshirt. "Ew."

"Oh shut up," you say, swatting her arm with a laugh.

She rubs her arm, her bottom lip jutting out.

You sigh, pulling her into a hug. She buries her face in your neck, humming. "Well, I guess I don't need to give you the gift I got you for today, then."

"Gift? Wait, what?" You say, shoving her away in shock.

She bursts into laughter, raising a bag that she's been holding silently behind her back. "Of course. I couldn't not get my girlfriend something for Valentine's Day. I've been hiding it the whole time. Here."

You grab the bag, opening it. You pull the gift out of the bag, and a soft gasp leaves your mouth. 

It's the camera.

[waywardstation]

I'm Glad You're Here

It is Akari's sixteenth birthday, and a surprise party is thrown for her. She isn't able to appreciate it as much as she wants to though, and Ingo can tell. Emmet also struggles with facing his first birthday without Ingo, but Elesa is there for him.

HAPPY (VERY LATE) SECOND ANNIVERSARY PLA!! What a wonderful game that has given me many friends and creatively compelled me for more than two years!! I tried to get this out on the date, but lots of things made it very hard to. So now it's out on valentine's day instead, so I'll just excuse it with saying this is my love letter to PLA haha, and it fits with palentine's day, as it contains a lot of appreciating friendships and found family.

I wrote this including three prompts that I had gotten, such as requesting something about Akari or Ingo dealing with their birthdays in Hisui, Ingo and Akari acknowledging the found family dynamic I write them with, and Akari talking a little more about her own family.

OR read it here on AO3!

Enjoy! —————

“Goodnight, Akari!”

“Hope you had fun at your party, Akari!”

“Happy birthday, Akari!”

Standing by the Galaxy Hall’s doors with Ember at her feet, said teen thanked partygoers and bid them goodbye as they trickled out into the chilly autumn night. Protecting themselves from the ongoing rain as best they could, they were quick to make their way down the steps and back to their village homes. 

“Oh, Professor! Rei!” Turning away from bidding goodbye to Darego and thanking him for the photos he took, she saw Laventon and Rei were next to leave. “You’re heading out now too?”

“Unfortunately so,” Laventon seemed a bit sheepish, as if apologetic for leaving despite the event having already ended. “Early mornings filled with paperwork are not the most forgiving of late night festivities. Otherwise we’d stay and properly take care of that whole disaster upstairs!”

“No, no, it’s fine!” Akari waved him off with her hand. “I already said Ingo and I would take care of it! Honestly he’s probably already done by now, so it’s fine, you guys can go home! You both already did so much for me tonight with this whole party, anyways; I don’t know how you did it!”

Laventon returned the smile she gave them both with one that was twice as big, seeming very proud with the compliment. “Well it was quite a delight to finally reveal all this, I’ll say; having to keep all of it hidden from you for the last few weeks was by far the hardest part!”

“You did a good job, I had no idea until everyone shouted ‘surprise!’ , honestly.” Akari shrugged her shoulders, giving a little laugh about it. “Thank you for all of this, Professor.”

“You’re most welcome, my dear girl!” Laventon held her in a tight embrace when she stepped forward to give him a farewell hug. “Once again, happy birthday!”

“And Rei, you too; thank you so much for the party,” She next reached out to grab her friend’s arm and pull him into a hug when Laventon stepped aside.

“Well of course-!” He choked out with some strain, crushed in her sturdy grip but doing his best to return the embrace. “You deserved it!”

As the two moved out the door to head back for the night, Laventon gave one last look back, shielding his eyes from the rainfall with one hand. “I hope you have a very good night, we’ll be seeing you tomorrow!”

“Yes, goodnight Akari, happy birthday!” Rei added on, following behind.

“Goodnight, guys!” Akari made a show of waving and bidding them both goodbye, but as Laventon made his way down the steps first, she reached forward and grasped the end of Rei’s scarf, tugging him back.

“Rei, wait!” She whispered, pulling her confused colleague back to her. “Real quick-”

Before he could even protest, Akari reached around behind the Galaxy Hall’s door, and handed him a small woven basket. Holding it out, she waited for him to take it.

“Here, take these. I know the Professor would say no if I tried to give it to him. But it’s for you both, as thanks for putting this whole party together for me.”

Rei studied the basket for a moment. Quickly picking up the sweet smell coming from inside, he put his hands up. “Akari, thank you but we couldn’t take that, those are yours!”

“I know, but please; I love Radisa’s cakes, but I also have a ton of dango from Beni, and Cyllene got me all those imported pastries from the Ginko Guild, and Floaro made me a whole box of muffins…” Akari explained, numbering all the confectioneries with the fingers on one of her hands. “There’s no way I can eat all of them by myself, and I’d rather someone gets to enjoy them rather than let them be wasted!”

“Rei!” Amongst the rain, the professor’s voice called out from down by the units; he’d finally noticed he was gone. “Are you coming?”

Looking back over his shoulder at the call of his name, Akari took the chance to shove the basket into Rei’s hands, to his surprise. “Hey!”

“Uh-oh, yours now!” Akari put her hands behind her back and took a step away from him, a mischievous grin on her face — Rei was now entirely stuck with them. “Guess you gotta take them now!”

“You can’t just- that’s not fair!” Rei seemed stuck between amusement and exasperation as he looked between her and the professor’s direction, caught in the middle of two different options and no proper time to consider them. He shook his head.

“Agh, fine! Thank you for these, Akari, really-” With a free arm, Rei pulled Akari into another quick hug, before whipping around to rush down the steps, protecting the basket as best he could from the rainfall. “Coming, Professor!”

As her colleague made his way down the steps and into the rain, Akari waved him off until he disappeared. Once he was out of sight, the teen’s big smile waned into a more neutral line, and she turned to go back inside the hall. With Ember quick to follow behind as she headed for the staircase, the door closed behind her. 

The drizzle continued on.

—————

“Did we miss another spot?”

Ingo glanced over his shoulder from where he stood up on a chair. Akari had entered the otherwise-vacant room, Ember at her heels while she pushed stray paper streamers aside from where they dangled.

“It appears we overlooked the ceiling,” The warden returned to the task at hand, stretching an arm back up to scrub as Akari came near to watch him. “And I’ve overestimated how stubbornly bean paste clings to surfaces once it’s dried. Would you mind holding that bucket up for a moment?”

“Even up there? Man, Beugene really did get it everywhere, didn’t he?” Akari laughed as she retrieved the bucket from the table and held it up to him – she could already hear Beuregard profusely apologizing again to her tomorrow for letting his wurmple get into (then burst out of) her cake. He really could stand to keep a better eye on Beugene, seeing as Miki’s staravia almost flew off with it the other day, but she truely hadn’t been upset at the incident. It had honestly been too impressive seeing just how much cake and paste the little Pokémon had managed to splatter all over the walls, carpet, and guests to feel mad about it.

“Thank you,” Ingo dunked his paste-covered rag into the bucket, wringing the soapy water out generously before going back to work on one last spot. A couple thorough scrapes, and the last of the cake seemed to finally be gone.

Ingo handed the rag back to Akari as she reached out to take it, having already placed the bucket back on the table. She set it aside as the warden took one last look around the room from atop the chair, a final scan. “There. While I wouldn’t be surprised if a Galaxy Team member somehow finds another spot somewhere tomorrow, that should be the last of it.”

“Ok, now get down,” Akari gestured to the floor with one hand while she held the chair with the other. “Don’t want you hurting your old man back.”

“I’m not that old,” Ingo played along with her teasing as he always did. But regardless, he began to step down with a soft grunt that did suggest some tightness, at the very least. 

Normally, Akari would have pursued it with more of her usual teasing, like asking how old he really was then — he always came up with something funny when she asked that. But she knew he didn’t really remember his age. And yes, he always said it didn’t bother him in the grand scheme of things. But reminding him he didn’t have that right after they had finished celebrating her sixteenth birthday felt uncomfortable, especially considering he didn’t remember his own birth date either. So she left it there this time, watching him get down. 

“Well, exploding cake and its messy aftermath aside, I’d say your party was quite a success; what an array of festivities we had tonight!” With his feet back on the ground, Ingo sang his praises as he set the chair back where it belonged against the wall. “I’m glad to see the sudden rain didn’t dampen the mood; it’s good the professor had opted for an indoor celebration! I do hope you had a good time and enjoyed yourself.”

“Yeah,” Akari began to pick the few remaining scraps of colorful paper out of the carpet, though with a contradictory tone. “I did! It was really nice tonight.”

Ingo’s frown tugged slightly. He pulled down a bundle of streamers and crumpled them together, but he kept a careful eye on her. “…It was all alright, wasn’t it? Because I can understand if the whole, well, cake incident is still upsetting, what with no one actually being able to have any.”

“No, no-” Akari waved it off and turned away from him as Ember handed her a mouthful of paper she had picked up herself, though it also felt avoidant in nature. “Sorry, no, it’s not that. Really, that didn’t bother me! I’m just tired, I guess. It was a really late party!”

Ingo didn’t quite buy it with the way his features held tight. “Well then, that makes two of us I suppose.”

A couple times tonight near the party’s end, he had wondered if something was bothering her. It surely seemed so, but asking unobtrusive questions and gently inquiring if certain things were ok had come up with nothing but reassurances. But still, something felt wrong. As the evening went on, Ingo had been suspecting it went a little deeper. 

And when the teen asked if he could possibly stay back and help her clean up, he was afraid it went even deeper than he initially suspected. Like, displaced-person-problems deep. Something he would come the closest to understanding out of everyone here. It was her birthday today after all, being spent in a time period she didn’t belong to. He could easily see it being a day of conflicting emotions, if that was the problem. 

But Ingo didn’t know if Akari was simply seeking company from him, or conversation. And if it was as personal as he thought it was, he would never ask about it before she was ready. So for now, he would stick to the former, but he was prepared for the latter if she asked for it.

“Ok, I think that’s all of it.” cramming the last of the colorful paper scraps into a wad, Akari dropped the last of it into a bucket they’d been using for trash. Besides a table standing a little crooked, and a few chairs a little out of line against the wall, it seemed they had restored it to its previously-clean, empty state. “Thanks for staying after to help out, Ingo.”

“I was happy I could be of service,” Picking up the scraps-filled bucket and stuffing the streamers into it, Ingo went for the doorway and stood at the exit. “Before I dispose of this and depart, is there anything else you’d like any assistance with?”

Another chance for her to get out what was clearly weighing on her. But only if she wanted to. Grey eyes patiently watched her as she looked off to the side, clearly considering what to say.

“Um. I’ve got like, a ton of gifts downstairs.” Akari pointed down, in general reference to the floor below. “Would you be able to help me take them back to my unit? Normally I wouldn’t mind a couple trips, but the rain…”

Ingo gave her a flat-lined smile. “Not a problem at all. I’d be happy to help you carry the extra cargo.”

–––––

The drizzle was there to greet them all when Ingo pushed one of the Galaxy Hall’s doors open with his back, holding it open as Akari and Ember hurried out. Carefully going down the slippery steps, they hurried down the empty street to the teen’s unit, burdened with various birthday presents.

“Quiw!” Ember reached the door first, and eager to get out of the rain, squeezed through the moment Akari opened it by a crack. To the teen’s dismay, her Pokémon began shaking the freezing rain out of her fur with a vicious full-body shake.

“Ember, no! You’re supposed to do that outside!” Akari scolded the quilava as she opened the door the rest of the way, but she already seemed resigned to the fact she’d have to dry the floor and walls off later. She opened up her damp blue hanten, now bulging considerably with boxy shapes, to quickly remove the gifts she had sheltered inside it. At least they were still dry.

Ingo stepped into the doorway after her, holding his own similarly-bulging coat closed around the rest of the gifts. Akari retrieved a towel and began to chase after a protesting Ember with it as the warden placed her presents down near the door, but he then stepped back out to wait under the unit’s eave. He wanted to minimize how much rain he tracked inside – he wouldn’t add to the trails of puddles that Akari and Ember were currently leaving all across the floor.

“Ember! You’re dripping everywhere!”

“Qwill!”

Akari was completely absorbed in catching her Pokémon, Ingo could see. He supposed part of him had been curious if she had wanted him to come with her so she could share what had been bothering her – maybe she just hadn’t wanted to say anything at the party, which was understandable.

But now he supposed not, and that was ok. Maybe she’d share another day. Or maybe not at all. But regardless, he had given enough openings for it, so it was now entirely up to her on if she wanted to share or not.

“Well,” Ingo cleared his throat, “I suppose I should get going then, and leave you two to enjoy the rest of your night.” He pulled his cap down further over his eyes in anticipation of going back out into the rainfall. “But I’d like to say that I had a wonderful time at the party tonight, and thoroughly enjoyed being a part of it. I hope today’s celebrations made for a fulfilling and memorable day with those close to you, and I wish for even better ones in the future. Once again, happy birthday Miss Akari, and goodnight.”

“Wait! Ingo, wait-” Akari abandoned the chase. Throwing the towel at Ember (who was subsequently swallowed up by it in an instant), she came back to him. Arms wrapped around his middle and squeezed tightly as she hugged him. “Thank you. For being at the party, and for helping me after. And for the really nice birthday wishes too.”

“You’re very welcome.” Ingo returned the hug as best he could. “Sixteen is a special milestone, after all.”

The restraint that was Akari’s arms only tightened instead of loosening. She stood against him, turning her face into his tunic and let out a long sigh. She didn’t say anything immediately. Ingo wondered for a moment if he had said something wrong amongst those ten short words.

“...Sorry, I know you’re tired and you have stuff you gotta do tomorrow, and you’re trying to leave,” She finally looked up at him. “But, would you mind sticking around for a second? It won’t take that long. But, um, I can make us some tea.”

So she did want to talk to him. 

Ingo’s frown once again pulled into a neutral line, his eyes indicating a reassuring smile behind the shade of his hat’s brim. He would certainly be tired tomorrow, but he found that didn’t bother him much in this moment. “Of course.”

—————

“I… don’t believe I follow. What do you mean it didn’t count?”

“I mean it didn’t count, because today can’t actually be my birthday. Like I didn’t actually turn sixteen today.”

With one hand absentmindedly stroking alongside Ember’s back as she curled further into his lap, Ingo watched Akari take the steaming tea kettle from off the irori. The warmth from the pit was a welcome heater against the cold breeze of the cracked-open window behind him — he would have preferred it closed, but Akari liked to listen to the rain. “But today is the date of your birthday, correct? Did we get it wrong? Oh dear, I… I apologize profusely if we did!”

Firsthand embarrassment crept close. No one ever liked to have the date of their birthday forgotten, or gotten wrong. Secondhand embarrassment trailed behind. He knew Akari would never have the heart to tell everyone they got the wrong day after everything they had planned. It must have been so awkward to know the whole time and not say anything for everyone else's sake; no wonder Akari seemed so bothered today.

“Woah, no, it’s nothing like that!” Akari briefly stopped pouring the tea, surprised at how flustered Ingo seemed to get. “Sorry! No, you guys didn’t get it wrong! And I mean technically, today is my birthday. But it's also… not?”

“...While that is certainly a relief, I’m afraid I am still in the dark.” Ingo insisted. 

She had told him once that some things felt wrong, like her name. It hadn’t seemed wrong and she certainly felt it as her own, but for all she could remember, she could never recall the name ever leaving the mouth of her friends or family during moments with them. Not even her mother.

She had considered when she was put here, some personal information had been messed with in her memory to ‘protect’ things. She said it would make sense if her name was one of those things. She also said maybe she was entirely wrong and had watched too many time-travel sci-fi movies, a concept he could only dimly recall once re-explained at length. 

Ingo couldn’t tell her if she was right or wrong about that. But he was aware of her thoughts on this by now, and he wondered if she had begun to suspect if her birth date was one of those altered things as well.

Setting the kettle back over the irori and getting up with the two cups of tea, Akari handed one to Ingo as she sat down next to him against the wall. Ember, who had previously been comfortable in Ingo’s lap, immediately abandoned him for Akari’s instead. “Um, ok. Let me try and think of how to explain this… Oh, wait- I have stuff I’ve written-”

Leaning over Ember, Akari reached into her satchel, now placed near her bed. She pulled out her Pokédex and set it across her quilava’s back. Ingo, both intrigued and surprised, sat forward to get a better look. She had written things down about this? He watched her flip through the back pages until she reached the sections she had been looking for. 

Notes. Dates. Scribbled out nothings. Timelines of the year by its months. Arrows, jumping backwards and forwards on said timelines. Numerous question marks etched deep and dark with frustration.

Page after page. Attempt after attempt trying to understand.

Ingo blinked, keeping down a reflexive mouthful of questions. Whatever this was, it had been bothering her for a long time, clearly. And she had been trying to figure it out by herself the whole time, because this was the first he had heard or seen anything about it.

“Ok, so I remember that before I was put here, when I was still at home, it was almost spring. It was at the beginning of the year, nowhere close to my birthday! But after I got here, and I first showed up on Prelude Beach,” Akari held up the Pokédex, tapping at the page. “I learned that here, it was almost fall. And only a few weeks after my birthday!”

She was tapping at one of the many timelines she had made that took up two pages, surrounded by notes and question marks, and overall seeming to be one of the simpler ones. All of the months of the year, in chronological order. There was a blue dot on March, and on August, a red dot — an arrow connected the former to the latter.

“I skipped like, five months ahead into the year when I was brought here. Kind of. I went back in time, but like, that doesn’t affect my age, does it? So looking at it that way, I really just kind of lost five months, if I went straight from March to August?” The notes lost Akari’s gaze as she blinked up at Ingo, as if wondering if she was even making any sense to him. “Right?”

“Uhm,” while the diagram she had written out certainly helped visualize the jumble somewhat, this was still a lot for Ingo to process. He sat back, scratching under his hat with one hand. “I might require another run-through or two to fully comprehend it, but I believe I’ve grasped the gist of it. That seems probable.”

Perhaps it was because he himself had no birthday, year, date, or even season of his own to compare with as a reference point anyways, but he’d never really given much thought to something like this. It made sense though, he thought. Just because someone went back in time on a certain day, doesn’t mean they’d show up in the past on that exact same day, down to the second. Akari certainly could have showed up here, with the year five months ahead from when she left her own time.

Not that it even mattered much, but maybe something like that had happened to him as well.

“Ugh, I’m sorry, I know all of this sounds so confusing, and all these scribbles probably aren’t helping. It was hard trying to figure this out with nothing but books to use as reference.” Akari seemed to become self-conscious of her rant; she closed her Pokédex and set it down at her side, replacing it with her cup of tea. “But I know dates aren’t the same. It was technically my birth-day today, yes, but not my birthday . It hasn’t been an actual year since my last birthday. I honestly don’t count myself as turning sixteen for another five months.” 

“Well, I can understand the conflicting emotions with the celebrations now.” Ingo swallowed down a long sip of tea in order to verbalize his sentiments. He did not understand, though. Not entirely. When he listened to her talk, he heard confusion, and perhaps a little self-directed frustration. He didn’t exactly hear the well-hidden sadness he saw at the party. 

This didn’t feel like it was all of it. But he was beginning to suspect he knew what the rest of it was, and he would not broach it himself.

“It was entirely unintended, I’m sure you understand, but all the same, I’m sorry to hear that the party brought up unwanted reminders.” He added on another statement to address it as best he could, more genuine to his true thoughts. “I’m sure the others would be too, if they were aware.” 

“I know, I know… and I feel bad about that.” Akari confessed. “But they didn’t know. And I don’t want them to.” She looked down into her tea. “It wasn’t like, obvious that I was bothered at the party, was it Ingo?” 

“Not particularly,” He half-lied. It certainly hadn’t been obvious, but it had been enough for him to suspect something, at the very least. He couldn’t speak for anyone else though, and he doubted anybody would ever be able to guess the reason if they did notice anything. “I don’t believe anyone would suspect themselves as the cause of your troubles.”

“You were asking me a lot tonight if I was ok.”

“An exploding birthday cake can be quite a distressing matter.”

The dry humor got a little laugh out of Akari. “…Yeah, ok. But. It’s just…”

Ingo waited.

“I don’t know,” she stumbled, though Ingo could see she very clearly knew. “The party wasn’t really the problem. It’s not that I didn’t appreciate everything they did, because I really did! I know it took a lot of work! But… I dunno.” She stumbled again. “You saw the party tonight. It was huge! And it’s not like it wasn’t super fun, because it was, or that it was too much for me or anything, because it wasn’t , but I kind of just…”

Akari shrugged, looking off to the side. Ingo watched her, patient as she set her cup down on the windowsill behind them and began fidgeting with her scarf.

“I don’t know, I guess I wished my mom had been here to celebrate it too.” Her voice wavered for a moment. “Even though I know that’s impossible right now. I just didn’t want her to miss it. Or more like do it without her, I guess. She would always talk about how turning sixteen was so big and so important, and it was going to be a special milestone. Just like what you said earlier.”

Oh. So it was something he had said. 

“I think my mom was looking forward to this birthday more than I was!” Akari continued. “SO I felt bad that I did it without her. And I really miss her a lot, all the time. And I know she doesn’t know what happened to me. And I’m worried about that, and I just… Yeah. I didn’t want her to miss it.”

Ingo bit the inside of his cheek; it was what he suspected it to be – missing her family. Her mother.

But despite all the growing suspicion he let build up inside him over the course of the night, shamefully, he still wasn’t quite sure what to say. Akari’s mother was rarely the topic of their discussions, on account of the teen’s own emotional distress over it. Ingo never tried to bring it up on his own, and treated it with caution the few times she would bring it up herself, but it meant words always came slowly and with much difficulty when they would turn to it.

“That’s why today just can’t be my birthday. I want to be back with my mom by the time it actually is.” Akari kept handling the fabric of her scarf. “Because tonight I just kept thinking about how she was missing it. And I don’t know if I’ll be able to ever have something like that again. And I’m afraid that she thinks that too.”

“Oh, Miss Akari,” Ingo set down his own cup as she looked back up at him, sniffing with newly-misted eyes that threatened to well up. The sign that that was all she was going to say on the matter, and she was done. He opened his arm when she leaned closer to him, and she slumped into his side at the invitation, rubbing at her eyes to catch anything before it could fall. “I’m so sorry, I know you miss her dearly.”

A child separated from their mother. A mother who doesn’t know what happened to their child, or if their child is dead or alive, and is only more inclined to assume the former as time goes on. Except the child is not, and has no way to reassure the mother, or comfort her — no way to tell her she’s still alive, and that she hopes she doesn’t somehow suspect it’s her fault, and that she’s thinking of her every day while trying to find a way back to her. 

It should not be this way. 

But it is. 

Ingo’s heart hurt; did he leave behind some terrible situation like this as well? Broken hearts and unanswered questions? It was easier for him to forget possibilities like this sometimes, when memories were not there to remind him of them.

“I do.” The teen settled more comfortably, rubbing at her eyes again when Ember reached up to lick at any stray tears. Her voice was shaky, but not uncontrolled — she took a deep breath to regain it. “It is really hard.”

Gears were turning in Ingo’s head, trying to figure something out. What could he say to this? She had been upset to the point of tears, and he wanted to comfort her. But he could not offer a promise to her, telling her she’d get back to her own time, see her mother again, and celebrate with her the way she wanted. Because as much as he wanted it to happen for her, he just did not know if it would. And Akari knew he did not know. Telling her something like that would just be empty, and maybe even painful. And he felt that lamenting the ghosts within white-out memories was a different kind of heartache compared to the vivid grieving over separation from one’s mother. Or maybe it was. But he didn’t know if in trying to console her with relatability, he would end up referencing too much loss, or not enough. What could he possibly-

“But it’s been easier. With you around.”

All the overworked lines speeding through Ingo’s mind halted. “...Oh?”

“I mean, you’re like the only other person in this entire world that can understand this whole thing right now. Like, really understand it. Even though I know they’ll listen, I don’t really know how to bring this stuff up to other people sometimes, because these aren’t things that anyone can really help.” Akari went on, seemingly not even noticing that he had mentally stalled. “Like I obviously couldn’t tell Rei or the Professor the party made me feel like this after all the time they spent putting it together for me, that would be terrible. And I don’t know how obvious it was, but I kind of took a long time working myself up to even tell you tonight. Even though to me, you’re like my, um…”

A very heavy pause as she mulled over her words.

“...I don’t know, my time-travel buddy here.” 

Akari pet Ember as she talked, who by now had settled back into her lap, seeing as there were no more tears. Ingo found some appropriate humor in the title she gave him, but was otherwise quiet. She wasn’t finishing her sentences with a tone that suggested she was really done; it seemed like she kept wanting to say more but was cutting herself short.

“So… thank you for listening to all that. It’s just nice to have someone to talk to that really understands what I’m talking about.” Was all that came out instead, all that summarized her feelings on the matter. “I just wanna say I’m glad you’re here too, so I don’t feel so out of place, or lost, here.”

Ingo took in a breath, ready to thank her for such kind words and add in a reassurance that yes, he was there for her, but it seemed the moment of silence had led to quick reflection, then overthinking; Akari became noticeably flustered, suddenly leaning off of his shoulder to sit up straight.

“I mean, wait, no-” She stumbled. “I’m… I’m not saying I’m like, happy you ended up here just to make me feel more comfortable or anything, of course not! It’s terrible that it happened, especially the way it did! Obviously! I’m just-” 

A pause to gather her thoughts. 

“I’m… thankful I have someone else who can understand my situation, and helps me. And I’m not alone in this. Is what I’m trying to say. If that makes sense.” Akari finally killed her choppy ramble by taking a hasty sip of her tea. 

“I understand,” Ingo tried to reassure the flush of embarrassment on the teen’s face; it hadn’t come across like that at all. “And as long as we’re being honest, I must admit I hold similar sentiments.”

He leaned his head back against the wall. Staring at the square of dim moonlight stretched across the floor from the window behind them, he watched the shadows that the rainfall projected as it came down outside. She told him she appreciated that he listened and talked through these things with her, but he hadn’t said much of anything yet. Well, now it was time to do that.

“I hope I’ve been transparent enough about just how much your arrival has changed my tracks for the better.” He started slowly, idly turning his cup of tea in his fingers. “From when I first arrived here until our routes crossed, I felt… entirely derailed. You know that. I’m even sure you can recall that disposition from when our tracks first crossed.”

“Yes,” Akari slowly allowed herself to settle back against his shoulder. She didn’t really give their first meeting much thought these days. Looking back, it felt polarizing to compare him to the man she had first been introduced to, now paling as distant and directionless in comparison to how he was now.

“But I’ve regained an amount of myself that I thought was indefinitely lost due to your assistance. I know that I lived in a time period comparable to yours, if not the very same — wouldn’t that be something?”

It had to be the very same, Akari just knew it was.

“I also know that I conducted many exciting battles alongside someone who enjoyed them just as much as I did, if not more. And I know that this someone was similar to me in many ways, and very dear to me. Perhaps family, from what I’ve gathered at this point. And while the identities and locations are still quite blurred, I’ve recovered many fragments that indicate I was fortunate enough to be loved by friends and family, seemingly up until my sudden derailment.”

Akari recalled the times when Ingo first remembered these things. When she first helped him recover shards of these cracked but significant recollections, whether purposely or accidentally. 

He always cried. 

Whether that was uncontrollably in the moment with her, or later in the evenings when he had resigned himself to the privacy of Lady Sneasler’s den, there were always tears. 

She knew it hurt him to recall such loving, warm, comforting memories when all his situation did was serve as a reminder that it was out of reach, had been for a long time, and may still be for much longer. Questioning if it would ever be felt again by the same people who extended so much love to him, and he couldn’t even do them the decency of remembering their faces. Weaponized grief accusing him that it had all been taken for granted – that it hadn’t been appreciated enough back then.

Akari knew, because she would cry over similar things when she was alone at night, sometimes.

But she could do that. She was a teenager. Teenagers could cry. 

Ingo was an adult. Adults could cry too, but it always felt harder to deal with when it was them. Especially when it was Ingo. Ingo, someone who always comforted her. Ingo, who didn’t cry.

At least, he didn’t before he started regaining these memories that she’d helped recover.

“But, it…” Akari looked down into her cup of tea, conflicted. In a way, she felt like Ingo was thanking her for simultaneously helping and hurting him. “I mean, it feels like-” She didn’t know how she wanted to phrase it. “-I know it hurts a lot sometimes, to remember. Would you… knowing what you know now, would you rather not have, um…”

It seemed Akari was becoming disheartened with the question, probably beginning to find it an insensitive question to ask. Ingo understood what she was getting at, and she realized that.

“Nevermind,” she finally ended the struggle and cut herself off. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. I don’t mind.” Ingo reassured her. “It can be quite hard, yes, to know what I’ve been removed from. It weighs heavy on my heart when I stop to reflect on it. But I know I have something to return to now. And while it can be painful at times, it is, to me, a welcome change from the plaguing hollowness of loss and confusion. I would not have, well… myself without you, and for that I am immensely grateful.”

It was heartening to see his words put her at ease, but he realized he was getting off track from what he was trying to express.

“ Ahem, all of this is to say; likewise, Miss Akari, if I had any say in the matter, I would not wish for you to be displaced here either. Yet you are. And as unfortunate as it might feel sometimes, all one can do is make the best of their situation. And there was nothing either of us could have done about our destination, but your presence at this station is a pleasant one, both in company and agency.” Ingo cleared his throat. “I am thankful for our friendship.”

“Me too…” Akari sounded almost choked up again, her voice quiet. “ See, you always know what to say. Thank you.”

The ambience of the rainfall against the unit’s eave became prevalent as conversation died. They sat like that for a while. Whether listening to the rain or replaying the conversation in her head, Ingo didn’t know what it was that Akari was doing. But the relative darkness in the room, the internal warmth of the tea, and the relaxing pattering of rain against the roof outside was a very dangerous combination for him. His eyes were already growing heavy, he should probably get going before he falls aslee-

“Hey Ingo,” The warden started when he felt a bony elbow suddenly nudge him in the side. “When we both get back, I’m gonna have another birthday party, one on my actual sixteenth birthday, with my mom there so that she doesn’t miss anything this time.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Ingo yawned, sitting forward to help rouse himself from the weakening grip of sleep. She was treating an ‘if’ like a ‘when’, and he sometimes warned her about doing that, but he found that right now especially, he couldn’t not indulge her a little.

“Yeah, and it’s gonna have tons of balloons, streamers and confetti everywhere.” Akari leaned her head against his shoulder to look back at him. “Like so much, even five days after the party, you’ll sneeze and confetti will still come out.”

“Every proper birthday party needs that.” Ingo couldn’t help but huff a laugh through his nose at the visual she’d constructed. “What colors for the theme?”

“Everything’s gonna be blue, of course!” She knew that he knew her favorite color would be the only choice. “You know that! Oh, and also, one birthday cake that’s the size of two! To make up for the one that exploded today!”

“What flavor?”

“Chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry. So everyone can have a flavor they like. And-” Akari sat up and fully turned to him, like this next part was serious. “I'm gonna have every single one of my friends and family come. So that means you’re going to be invited too! And anyone else you wanna bring! I’ll get to introduce you to everyone there!”

Ingo smiled. Because it did sound nice, truely. But the small smile quickly dulled. Indulgence aside, he didn’t want to encourage setting herself up for hurt. “You know I would love to. And if I can, I certainly will. However… Miss Akari, I truly hate to bring it up, but please be mindful of what we’ve talked about. I wouldn’t want there to be… any hurt. In case our tracks do not run as close as expected.”

Hopeful prospects built upon skewed expectations are terribly vicious if time reveals those expectations are wrong. It would leave deep wounds if they did go back to their own times, only to be separated by a gate of decades that stretched so far, they’d only ever be able to assume that’s what had happened, and never know for sure. But it would hurt more if they had convinced themselves that would not happen and took that as fact. 

And so Ingo did not. 

And while Akari had said over and over that she did not either, he could tell that really, deep down, she did.

And all of this wasn’t even considering the very real possibility that Ingo might not have a ticket back home like she did. She had told him time and time again that she’d drag him back by the arm if she had to, and stop anything that tried to keep her from doing so, but… what was a teenager against the Unknown?

“I know, I know.” Akari said it with concerning brevity. “But we have to come from the same time. How could we not? You also know what Pokémon gyms are, and contests! And you actually know what double battles are, too. And you know what cellphones are, and pizza, and video games!”

“It is… convincing.” Even though it was more vague than anything that narrowed things down to decades, not a single year, Ingo decided to just leave it there for now. This was not something to talk about at length tonight. Not after all she had just told him.

“So you’re gonna need to come! I really want to introduce you to my mom. I know she’d wanna meet you after all you’ve done for me! Knowing her, she’d probably try and repay you with tons of home-baked things, and I need to warn you she’s going to hug you with the strength of an ursaring trap.”

“Ah, well now I know where you get that from.” 

A quick, simple sentence said without much of a tone, but Akari caught the humor of it. She laughed into her tea. “No, hers are like three times as strong as mine!”

With her leaning into her cup, Ingo did not see the playful look she gave him in the stretch of silence. 

“And, just thought you’d like to know, she’s single too…”

“O-oh-” Ingo found himself sitting forward suddenly, his ears steaming hot with sudden embarrassment at the implication. Arceus, of all the ways for her to confirm his suspicions that a father probably wasn’t present. Surely not- “I- no no, with all due respect Miss Akari, I don’t think that would-!”

“Kidding, kidding, I’m kidding!” The teen shouted in between laughs, pushing his shoulder playfully and giving him a big, stupid smile. “Geez, you’re always so easy! I know! That wouldn’t work anyways, you’re like… the weird, distant uncle I didn’t find out about until like a year ago, if anything.” 

“Weird uncle?” Ingo snorted at the notion, perhaps a bit too loudly — he hadn’t been expecting that, but it was certainly less heart attack-inducing than the former proposition. 

“Yes!” Taking his laughter as disagreement more than surprise, Akari shoved his arm again. “I mean, you let me do a lot of things that I don’t think responsible parents would let kids do-”

“Because I’m- I’m not your parent,” Ingo hastily tried to correct her, still somewhat processing the topic. “And I’m not letting you, I’m simply ensuring you’re performing the proper safety checks when doing them!”

One would have much more success trying to properly equip her with tools and knowledge than to try and stop her from doing anything she was set on doing. Anyone who knew Akari well enough would know that. 

“Yeah, well, I know my mom would kill me if she knew of all the dangerous things I was doing, and you don’t. There.” The teen poked him several times to drive her point home. “That’s what uncles do. And, you respond to my jokes with more jokes, and you like all my pranks-”

“I wouldn’t say all of them,” Ingo squeezed in, shaking his head but allowing himself to laugh a little.

“-and you let me hang around you like every time I come by, and you listen to my problems, and you help me when I need it-”

“You make it out to be a chore, I assure you it’s not-”

“-and! And! I don’t know how you do it, but you can fall asleep anywhere within like, thirty seconds.” Akari started snickering, looking back at him to see his reaction. “You were doing it like two minutes ago! I’ve only ever seen three types of people do that.” She began numbering off with her fingers, “Dads, uncles, and grandpas. You kind of best qualify for the latter in that area because you’re like, super super old, but…”

“Hey!” Now it was Ingo’s turn to nudge her with his arm – she was already joking with him again. She laughed more freely this time, quickly settling back against his shoulder.

“Point is, you’re um, kind of what I wished my actual uncle would have been like when I was growing up… if that’s not too forward to say. You’re the weird, distant uncle. Except the weird is a good weird, and the distant part wasn’t your fault. I appreciate that you um, basically look out for me here. It helps with missing my mom.” She finished, ending it by returning to her cup for another long sip of tea.

What a confession. 

Ingo had known she had grown very attached to him over the months, and he could not deny he had done the same. She had made it very easy, he supposed; her frequent company filled time that had previously been spent alone, and those times were much happier now. And while he had grown to feel some sense of responsibility over her – she did often follow advice or guidance from him anymore, so logically there was some responsibility there – but he hadn’t thought much past it. He never felt like he had to.

However, she basically just admitted she felt like his ward, if he could compare it to anything. He had not known she had grown to see him like that, exactly  – he wasn't sure he even saw himself like that – or when that had even first begun. 

But it was comforting, in a way. Whether he had a spouse or children before Hisui, he did not know – he very much doubted it, but realistically, he didn’t know for sure. And siblings? Or parents? The scratched-out faces and names that haunted his cracked memories never made it clear. Those people could have been family, but they could have also been just close friends, and while that was certainly family in its own way, it was… hard, not really knowing. 

And although he certainly did consider the Pearl Clan his family in Hisui, eternally indebted to Irida and the rest of the clan for their kindness to him, the circumstances of his acceptance had unfortunately felt purely obligatory or pitiful by some. It felt... different. And he didn't know if that would ever change.

So it was nice to hear someone call him family. 

Akari had never said that phrase explicitly, but basically confessing of her own volition that she saw him as a member of hers was, in all honesty, painfully consoling and cathartic.

Ingo realized he hadn’t said anything yet. He turned to address the teen; she was sipping the last of her tea, but her cheeks were pink now, eyes down as she pet Ember with her other hand – she had grown self-conscious of her vulnerability in his silent processing, perhaps thinking he didn’t reciprocate the proposed connection. Or worse, he thought she was clingy for it.

She had confessed everything to him that she’d held back earlier, hadn’t she? 

“Well, I am glad to know I live up to the expectations then, Miss Akari.” He made sure to give her a smile, still turned down in the corners but clearly, genuinely happy with his eyes. “I believe the feeling is mutual.���

Very few words, but relieving and emotional all the same. Arms reached around his shoulders to give another steel trap hug. “Thank you. For that. And for talking with me tonight. I know I said it would be quick, but…”

“It’s quite alright. I’m glad we could talk as well.” Ingo picked it up when she trailed off, squeezing her back with an arm in a side hug.

Weird uncle. 

Yeah, he supposed he could get used to that.

“Ok then, you’re definitely going to need to come to my real birthday party now, no way you can’t.” Akari finally let go of him. Ember leapt off her lap and onto the floor as she moved to stand up and collect both of their tea cups, now empty. “And you’re gonna have to start showing up to family barbecues too! And your own family’s gotta come too, so you can introduce them to mine, and we can get even more get-togethers!””

She was joking, but he could tell she also was not. Another pang of future uncertainty dampened the sentiments, but Ingo looked past it as he made his own move to get back to his feet, and help her put everything away. “I can certainly try my best to do so.”

Hmm. His own family too. 

His heart ached. He did wish he could remember them. He found himself wanting to meet them just as much as Akari did, if not more. (Surely though, he did.)

A part of him once again wondered if they missed him the way he missed them. Or the way Akari missed her mother.

—————

“Thank you, Elesa. I know you didn’t have to.”

“Please, don’t even mention it! You know I’d never pass up another opportunity to drag you around with me.”

Emmet pulled his cap down over his eyes as he stepped out of his apartment to join his friend. After he locked the door, the two of them began to make their way down the stairs to the street below. “Though I’m happy to go with you, I'm sorry to hear about Skyla. That was very unfortunate timing.”

“It really was; she said she’s already feeling better, though! She just told me to tell you to enjoy the premiere for her.” Elesa hooked her arm around Emmet’s as they continued down the steps.

It genuinely had been unfortunate timing for Skyla to catch a cold only a few days before the premiere of Pokéstar Studios’ newest movie that Elesa had a part in. But even if she hadn’t, herself and Elesa had long before agreed that they were going to come up with an excuse to take Emmet in her place anyways.

His birthday was not until tomorrow, and while many things had been planned with friends and family to occupy the day with good times and love, Elesa did not want him confining himself to his dark apartment tonight. Things were often just as painful the day before, as well.

“Skyla’s name is on the ticket.” Emmet absentmindedly observed as she handed the decorated slip to him. The dozen pokeballs within his coat weighed heavy for a moment. “And all of my Pokémon will be there, not Skyla’s. Will I have to show them ID or something?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it when we get there.” She reassured him. “Again, last-minute stuff, but I can work that out pretty easily.”

“Mmm,” Emmet hummed. That seemed like it would be his only response. But as he continued to scrutinize the name on the ticket, he spoke up again. “It’s ok, Elesa. I know that this was not last minute.”

While she couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, Elesa also couldn’t say this wasn’t unexpected. Emmet had always been very good at picking up on things. 

She just didn’t want him to think this was being done out of pity or anything.

Which maybe part of it was, how could it not be? But moreso, Emmet was her friend. And she wanted him to have something to think about other than grief tonight.

“I’ve been saying it’s last-minute too much, haven’t I?” She asked, seeming a little rueful.

“Yes, you have.” Emmet sounded almost amused as they continued down the steps. If he was bothered, he certainly wasn’t showing it. “But you also have not said a thing to me about my birthday all week. That is verrry unlike you.”

Harassing himself and Ingo with silly cards, gaudy gifts, and at least one big activity the week of their birthdays. Making Ingo and Emmets’ birthdays a week-long, inescapable reminder of the big day they shared was Elesa’s style of celebration. Not this.

But to be fair, just like how this year was… a first for Emmet, it was a first for her too. It was a first for everyone. Emmet understood why she was walking on eggshells – their birthdays had very much been an Ingo-and-Emmet thing. One was not without the other, ever. 

Except this year, it was. 

It was understandable why people would be nervous to bring it up to him in all the ways they had before. They were afraid it would serve as a reminder that someone was not there anymore to celebrate it with him. And they were right, it would. But while Emmet appreciated the sensitivity, he didn’t want a careful birthday where everyone was afraid of how to handle him. It wasn’t intended, but it would be demeaning.

“I’m sorry, Emmet. I just didn’t really… know how to do it this year.” Elesa confessed what he had already known. They were practically at the bottom of the stairs now. “And I didn’t want to say or do anything that would be- I didn’t want you to be alone, or thinking of anything that’ll hurt right now. I just want you to feel as loved and appreciated as you are, not sad. Not on your birthday.”

“I do feel loved.” Reaching the bottom of the stairs and stepping onto the sidewalk, Emmet stopped so that they could talk face-to-face for a moment. “Tonight I was invited to an event that was very much not planned last-minute, with my dear friend, to see a movie that she is in. And tomorrow, I will get to spend the entire day with friends and family. And even after that, when I am back in my apartment, I have all of my Pokémon, who need me as well. You all do a verrry good job of making me feel loved. It is a good birthday already.”

“Oh Emmet,” Elesa let go of his arm to reach out for him. She settled into his shoulder as she gently hugged around his neck. Emmet reciprocated, arms secured around her back.

Emmet knew tomorrow was going to be different. Difficult, certainly. For the first time, only half of him would be there. The reminders were still daily and constant, but tomorrow they were going to be a little sharper, a little more poignant. He couldn’t avoid that. But he did not want to try and bury it – he had already slipped into that once before, and learned how destructive and painful it was. And he certainly didn’t want others to feel like they needed to as well for his sake. He was hurting, and a part of him always would regardless, but he was not fragile.

“And it is ok to talk about Ingo.” Emmet spoke into Elesa’s shoulder. “It will be his birthday tomorrow too. And even if he is not right here at this moment, I would not want him to be excluded from it.”

“Alright,” There was relief in the way she sighed, squeezing him a little harder. 

“Thank you, Elesa.” Separating from the hug, Emmet gave her a reassuring smile, though it was not without a hint of melancholy. “You are a very good friend.”

At the edge of the sidewalk, a sleek black car pulled up to them and stopped, engine thrumming quietly.

“Oh, that’s for us,” Sniffing, Elesa carefully wiped at her eye and cleared her throat. “You know, Emmet, I’m really…” She stopped, seeming to think better of it. No more apologies or condolences for tonight, she was supposed to be cheering him up. “...I’m glad you could come with me tonight.”

“I am too, very much.” Emmet seemed doubly grateful for the lighter change of topic. He followed her as she led him over to the car, and opened the backseat door for her. “I have not gone with you to one of these in a while! Last time was several years ago when you took Ingo and me with you to see that terribly cheesy rom-com you had a cameo in.”

“Well, funny you should bring that up,” A bit of Elesa’s playfulness slowly began to show itself again, a smile brightening her features as she scooted across the seat to make room for him. “Because lucky for you, tonight’s movie is also a romantic comedy!”

“Blech!” Emmet made an exaggerated gagging sound as he stepped into the car after her, which sent Elesa into a fit of laughing while he closed the door. “I will be watching this for you, not for the romance!”

[wildsupernova]

roses, chocolates, and a heart shaped box.

summary: valentine’s day had always felt like a joke to you. nobody had ever taken the time to do anything nice for you, but when the sickeningly romantic steve harrington falls in love with you, of course you’ll have the best valentine’s day ever.

pairing: steve harrington x f!reader

warnings: some suggestive language, nothing too crazy

word count: 2.4k

a/n: hey everyone! i know it’s been a while since i posted anything, but my second year of college has been kicking my ass and making it near impossible to get motivation to do anything. i figured what better way to get back in the swing of things than with a valentine’s day fic! i know it’s a day early, but i wanted to get this up before i got too busy and forgot about it. anyway, hope you guys enjoy, and happy valentine’s day!

masterlist | prompts list | ao3

Valentine’s Day had never been something you looked forward to.

Even as a kid, you associated it with loneliness, watching on as all the little second grade boys gave their crushes a dandelion they picked fresh from the playground at recess. You detested it when they started selling candy-grams in middle school, because every year it seemed that you were the only one who never received one. You’d check your locker every day for the whole week hoping that maybe someone had slipped you a note only for nothing to fall out when you opened it, held your breath when they handed out the candy-grams only for your name to never be called, and dressed yourself up nice in the hopes that someone at the Valentine’s Day dance would ask you to dance with them only to end up with sore feet and running mascara by the end of the night. By the time high school came around, you gave up on the idea of Valentine’s Day altogether, never having a relationship last long enough to celebrate it. 

You’d turned into a stone hearted cynic, and just the mention of the words ‘Valentine’s Day’ had you rolling your eyes. 

That was, until you met Steve Harrington. 

You’d never met someone so…romantic. He was the kind of guy to show up to your house with flowers for no reason other than that he wanted to, or buy you a pair of fake diamond earrings (hey, it’s the thought that counts, right?) he saw at an antique shop because he saw them and immediately thought of you. He was the type to leave small little love letters in your locker between classes, and pick you up and spin you around and cover you in kisses because he missed you. 

But that didn’t change the fact that you hated Valentine’s Day. 

Steve had never been able to understand how someone could hate Valentine’s Day. ‘Come on!’ He’d say. ‘It's a whole day where people who love each other do something special together. What could be better than that?’ You’d always respond the same way; that to you, Valentine’s Day was nothing but a commodity and an excuse for boyfriends who did nothing for their girlfriends all year to make up for it with a fancy dinner and a box of chocolates. You don’t need a special day to show you love someone. If you really love someone, everyday is like that. 

It took him prying it out of you before you finally admitted the real reason you hated Valentine’s Day. 

“Nobody’s ever done anything nice for me on Valentine’s Day, okay?” The words come out with a bit more bite than you mean for them too, and Steve’s face scrunched a bit. 

“What?”

“Nobody’s ever done anything for me for Valentine’s Day.” You repeat yourself. “I’ve never gotten…flowers, or chocolates, or a nice dinner or anything. It’s not a big deal, I’m used to it.”

“Nobody has ever done anything nice for you?”

“I mean, my parents always got me chocolate every year but…nobody ever really made the choice to do anything.” You picked at your nails and tried to make your voice sound like it didn’t bother you, but Steve could hear the disappointment. He tried to question you about it further, but you changed the subject before he could. “It’s not a big deal. Let’s just talk about something else, okay?”

For the next month, Steve took it as a personal challenge to give you the best Valentine’s Day you’d ever had. He even made a stupid little flow chart in one of his notebooks, chicken scratch and scribbles covering 3 whole pages while he tried to brainstorm the best way to make up for all of your shitty Valentine’s Days. He probably looked crazy, the way he was scribbling like a madman during class, but it would all be worth it in the end. 

The plan he came up with was simple, really.

Everyday for the week leading up to Valentine’s Day, he put a single red rose in your locker or left it on your bedroom windowsill. Never anything more, other than a note he’d sloppily tied to the stem of the flower with a pink ribbon, the words ‘I love you’ written in red ink. Every day you placed the new flower in a small glass of water you used as a makeshift vase and put the notes in an old jewelry box you didn’t use anymore. 

Everyday you’d tell Steve he didn’t have to do that, that you were content with not getting anything, but your smile that spread ear to ear told him more than your words did. 

By the time Valentine’s Day finally arrived, you had a full bouquet of seven red roses sitting on your bedside table, and a stack of sloppily written love notes sitting in a box on your dresser. It made you hold your head just a little bit higher, smile a bit brighter, and feel a little bit happier on a day that you always associated with something lonely. 

When you opened your locker that morning, you were met with another red rose and a note, except this time the note had been clumsily cut into the shape of a lopsided heart, the words ‘Be my valentine?’ written in glittery pink pen. Two arms wrapping around your waist had you clutching the flower tighter, leaning your back into Steve’s chest. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” He whispered the words against your ear as he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, a smile pressed against your skin. You turned in his arms and draped your own over his shoulders. 

“Where’d you get a pink glitter pen?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He shut up anymore questions with a kiss, and you giggled. A stupid, girly, lovesick giggle. Steve had a dopey smile on his face when you parted. “Got you something else too.”

He reached into your locker and pulled something out from behind the textbooks, a heart shaped box tied shut with two white ribbons. You went to untie them before he stopped you, placing a hand over your own. 

“Don’t open it til’ you get home, okay?” You gave him a skeptical look but nodded anyway. 

“Okay?” You slipped the box back into your locker and closed it, cradling your books and the rose in the crook of your arm. “Hey, I gotta get to class, but I’ll see you at lunch, okay?” You pressed a kiss to his cheek, and as you went to walk away, he grabbed your wrist lightly. 

“You never answered my question, you know.” Your smile grew impossibly wider. 

“Yes, I’ll be your valentine.”

When you got home that afternoon, you untied the note from the stem of the rose, clipped it, and placed it in the cup with the others, hand delicately adjusting the flowers until they fell just the right way. You pulled the box from your backpack and plopped down on the bed, untying the ribbon and pulling the lid off. 

Inside was an assortment of fancy chocolates, the kind you’d always eye at the grocery store as a kid but your parents told you were too expensive to buy. In a small empty space in the center sat a small black velvet box and another note, folded over in a rather well made origami heart. You picked it up and unfolded it, smiling at the words written inside. 

‘I’m picking you up at 7. Wear something nice. 

I love you.’

When you opened the velvet box, you almost cried. 

Inside the box sat a small promise ring, a silver band swirling in dainty, earthen patterns until they curled around a single pink gemstone fashioned in the shape of a rose. Underneath the lid was a matching pair of earrings, and when you picked up the ring, you noticed an engraving on the inside of the band. 

‘I’ll love you until the last rose on Earth dies.’

It all felt like too much. You’d gotten so used to being alone, so used to never getting any gifts at all, that it felt like you didn’t deserve all of these special things Steve was doing for you. It was almost overwhelming, to have someone choose to show you how much they love you, instead of it feeling like some sort of obligation. 

Someone chose to love you. 

And you really, really liked that. 

By the time the clock hit 7, you felt butterflies swimming in your stomach. You knew you had nothing to be nervous about, but that didn’t stop your heart from beating far too fast and your face from keeping a constant blush. It didn’t help that you felt out of place dressed the way you were. 

You hadn’t had a reason to dress particularly nice since middle school, nor had you really had a desire to. When you’d pulled the nicest dress you owned out of your closet-a tight black dress that went to just above your knees and made you feel more than a little self conscious-the hanger had been covered in a thin layer of dust, as had the heels you decided to wear it with. The makeup on your face felt heavy, something you’d had to ask your mom for help with, and you coughed as you sprayed perfume straight into your mouth. You slipped the promise ring onto your finger and watched as it sparkled in your bedroom light.

When a knock on the door echoed through your living room at exactly 7:01 pm, you tugged the bottom of your dress down and walked over to the door, swinging the door open slowly. On the other side stood Steve, far better dressed than you had ever seen him, white button down and suit pants pressed smooth without a single wrinkle. He had a few of the buttons on his shirt undone for the fabric to fall open, revealing just enough of his chest to have you blushing. His hair, perfectly quaffed as always, fell into his eyes a bit, and a lovesick smile hid behind a large bouquet of roses. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, beautiful.” You took the bouquet from him, letting out a soft laugh. 

“I think you’ve given me enough roses for one week.”

“Well, you said nobody had ever gotten you flowers for Valentine’s Day, so I figured I’d give you enough to make up for it.” You thanked him with a kiss on the cheek and left to put the new roses with the rest, and as you arranged them all to fit, you noticed that there were 18 roses, one for every Valentine’s Day you’d missed out on. You smiled.

After a quick goodbye to your parents, the two of you were on your way to wherever Steve planned to take you, heat on blast to try and counteract the bitter Indiana winter. When Steve pulled into the parking lot of Enzo’s, your heart sputtered.

“Enzo’s?”

“You said you’d never been, but you’d always wanted to go, so I figured I’d take you out to a nice dinner. You know, to make up for all the times nobody ever took you.” He seemed almost nervous, fidgeting in his seat while his hands tightened a bit on the gear shift as he put the car in park. A smile slowly found its way onto your face, and you leaned over the center console to press a kiss to his cheek. When you pulled away, you giggled at the lipstick mark now staining his skin, and he wiped it away with a blush on his cheeks. 

Dinner had been a bit of a culture shock. You weren’t used to anything this ‘high end’, the entire restaurant filled to capacity with couples dressed to the nines to celebrate the holiday. A few of them were around your age, but they ran in a social circle so far away from yours that you didn’t know any of their names. 

That night was how you found out you weren’t really one for ‘fine dining’, portions far too small for the outrageous prices listed on the menu. Regardless, you had enjoyed it, even though you much preferred the burgers at the fast food place a few minutes away from your house. It helped that Steve was great company, and by the end of the night you were wishing you didn’t have to go home. 

“You could always come stay the night with me.” Steve’s hand snaked around your waist as he pulled you closer, mere inches away from your front door. “My parents are gone for the week. Again.”

You swatted at his shoulder when his face morphed into a suggestive smirk. 

“You know my dad would kill me.”

“Just don’t tell him.” The words were a whisper against your ear as he pressed a series of kisses to your cheek. “Just sneak out. I’ll move my car down the street so they don’t see me and everything.”

“Do you want me to never be able to see you again?” You let out a small laugh, gently pushing his head away from your face and neck. “If they find out I snuck out I will literally never be allowed to talk to you again.”

Steve put on an exaggerated pout, earning him an elbow to the side.

“Don’t give me that look, I’m serious.” Despite your scolding tone, the smile hadn’t dropped from your face. Steve held his hands up in surrender. 

“Fine, fine. But next time your parents are gone for the weekend you’re staying the night.” You let out a laugh and pressed a kiss to his lips, Steve chasing after you when you pulled away. 

“Goodnight, Steve. Thank you, for everything you did for me tonight.” He gave you another soft kiss as he smiled against your lips. 

“Can’t have my girl thinkin’ I’d just let her wallow on Valentine’s Day. I had to show you what you were missing.” His tone was borderline smug, and all you could do was kiss the smirk off his face. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.” You’d said those words to him before, but somehow, this time, they held a little bit more weight to them. 

“I love you, too.” One more kiss. “You better go before your dad comes out here and chases me off.” Reluctantly, Steve began heading back to his car, flashing you a wave and a smile as you headed inside. 

Valentine’s Day was still overrated, but it was a bit more bearable when you had someone like Steve.

[undyingghoul]

Valentine's Ghoul/Ghoulette Headcanons

Hey, look, content! I am so tired and cannot think at all but I am doing this anyway. happy early valentine's day you guys, i hope it's good for you all <3 ~~~~~~~~~ Dewdrop- He won't let anyone know he enjoys it, not even his dear valentine. He's secretly very into the holiday but lucifer forbid he let it show in an obvious way. Flowers? Nah, he'll give you a nice bouquet of nothing. Chocolates? Overrated, overdone. He hisses at even the thought of giving them to his valentine. There will be a nice card though, entirely handmade. He'll also make a coupon booklet... Except it's not entirely hugs and kisses, if you catch that drift, but those are included for the sake of fluff and wholesome purposes. He's a sucker for that secretly too. He won't do a fancy smancy dinner, but rather get a takeout dinner of your choice (he'll ignore Swiss puppy dog eyeing it and whining for some from the kitchen entirely by the way). Overall, he has his own special way of celebrating, but he still makes an effort for it to be as perfect as possible.

Mountain- Flowers. Right off the bat. The minute he sees his valentine? A nice bouquet of flowers tailored just for them in a fancy vase. He'd also get you a small basket filled with your favorite snacks, drinks, small items, and a card. Mountain is very traditional when it comes to this holiday but he wouldn't have it any other way. He'd spend the entire day by their side, doing what they want when they want, how they want. He'd end the day with a nice candlelit dinner in the greenhouse with your chosen dinner he cooked just for his valentine. And of course some snuggles and cuddles. That is a must you know.

Rain: The lake is the hit spot for Valentine's day. Rain planned out an entire day at the lake, getting Dew in on the fun by helping keep things warm if it gets too cold. Dew agreed to help because he knew how much Rain was worried about this day. He wanted to help Rain have it be as smooth as possible. Rain also may or may not have gotten help from Mountain in decorating the lake with pretty plants. And the picnic on the dock was just amazing even though Rain fell into the lake at one point from tripping over his tail. Perhaps he was a soggy boy, but a happy soggy boy.

Swiss: At first Swiss didn't know what to do. Everyone else had grand ideas, but then he remembered how busy the local shops were this time of year. It was almost like the universe wanted this to happen. He took his valentine to the shops with maybe too much money, but what better way to spend than spending it on someone you love and cherish, right? He bought some cupcakes, cookies, and brownies to share, salty and savory things, and way too many physical items. That one wrap he had at an American food stand really hit the spot for him though. After the day was done he came back with his valentine carrying so many bags Phantom nearly passed out from laughter- apparently, he looked a bit ridiculous to the young quintessence ghoul with the amount of bags, a furiously wagging tail, and a stupid grin on his face. But it was all worth it in the end.

Phantom: Oh LORD did he go above and beyond. When he found out this holiday was a thing he maybe got excited. Too excited. He may have collapsed from dizziness from how excited and riled he was. After Aether forced him to chill out for a bit he sprung into action, prepping everything for his valentine. Outfits, dinner, things to do- He had it all planned. He picked a nice outfit for him and brought his valentine to a local clothing store to get some clothes they wanted. After that, he spent time with them at the small library. He had somehow convinced the library to let him rent it for the day and he had used one of the corners to set up a cozy little nest area to read, chat, and snack in. He read books to his valentine, ones he knew they'd been meaning to read, and just soaked in the calming aura and presence. A nap was in order for a few hours but afterwards Phantom cleaned up their corner and took his valentine back to the Abbey for a nice dinner in the dens (it took some convincing but had the ghoulettes back him up to get it cleared for an hour or two). Needless to say he was in bed with his valentine and sound asleep before the rest of his pack came back.

Aether: He kept it on the down low. He didn't go above and beyond but didn't make it a sad holiday either. A card, a thoughtful and colorful flower bouquet, a small thing of candy and chocolates, and an adorable stuffed animal. He spent the day with his valentine entirely, watching cheesy romance movies, feeding them some chocolate snuggling up to his valentine under a nice cozy blanket, and ending with a nice pasta dinner. Though the day was not very busy it was still enjoyable and a good day. Cumulus: This ghoulette was prancing around in joy when she woke up. She fluffed up her hair all nice, put cute bows and ribbons in it, dressed in a nice casual yet alluring outfit, and sprayed some perfume on her. When she saw her valentine she was over the moon. Greeting them with a hug and a kiss on the cheek she quickly pulled them out to the gardens for a nice, slow walk. Talking, laughing, playful smacks and shoves- Oh how she loved it. Seeing her valentine smile and laugh made her purr and tail wag. She picked berries earlier from the fridge and brought them on the walk, sharing them and basking in the wonderful taste. It wasn't long before one naughty joke was made about that wonderful taste that had her cackling. At the end of the day she made a thoughtful dinner of all her valentine's favorites, along with some fruit on the side and a nice cold glass of soda. Cirrus: She made little puffball clouds for her valentine in the shapes of hearts as they woke up that morning. With a giggle escaping her she led her valentine to wonderful breakfast variety, filled with many options of sweet, salty, and savory. After a filling breakfast she took her valentine to the rooftops and made the clouds dance in the sky as the sun rose. The clouds reflected the colors: oranges, yellows, reds, purples, and pinks all seeming to mix into the clouds as they danced. She moved a cloud or five around her valentine slowly, letting it grace their skin to feel the cool sensation. After puffing the clouds back into place in the sky she just enjoyed time on the rooftop and its view with her valentine, talking about anything and everything until night hit and it was time to eat some dinner. Something easy was made that night but it was a very calming way to end the day.

Sunshine & Aurora: These two tag teamed it. Sunshine was experienced, and Aurora was beyond nervous. Sunshine agreed to help the new ghoulette traverse this holiday. Guiding Aurora carefully while her valentine was so incredibly patient and understanding, Sunshine couldn't help but smile. After some time Aurora became more comfortable and relaxed, easing into the holiday slowly. She paired with Sunshine to help put on a small show of fire and water with a touch of air. Sunshine swirled fire streaks through Aurora's clouds and through the center rings of water, letting the gentle burning fire swirl around her valentine. In the middle of the day it was declared by Aurora that she would share her valentine with Sunshine because she didn't want her to feel left out. Sunshine puffed a plume of smoke from her nose in excitement. The trio spent the day doing whatever they could find, even some arts and crafts that turned out to be an absolute blast. To end the day, Sunshine fried some fish in a pan and served some rice to go with it. Aurora added a small salad bowl and a fruit bowl into the mix. It was a delicious dinner and the best way to end the holiday.

[lordsukunas]

boyfriend! yuuta hcs for valentine's day!

happy (early) valentine's day y'all! if ur single, buy urself some chocolate<3 anyway, i hope y'all like this. the ending is rushed... whoops. pls enjoy & here is a song i think fits yuuta :3

boyfriend! yuuta who asks you to be his valentine on the first of feb with a handmade card. he even gives you a little bag of heart-shaped candy.

boyfriend! yuuta whose face flushes when you smile so sweetly at him and agree to be his valentine. he's pretty sure his heart stopped for a good three beats.

boyfriend! yuuta who spends the next thirteen days trying to come up with the perfect gift. of course, he knows you like the back of his hand, so finding a gift shouldn't be difficult. and, well, it isn't. but yuuta wants you to have the perfect gift.

boyfriend! yuuta who buys all of the typical gifts: chocolates, a cuddly teddy bear with a heart, a heart-shaped balloon, and roses.

boyfriend! yuuta who, ever the dutiful lover, asks maki and nobara for advice. both say a hard no to the roses.

"they're so stereotypical. makes it seem like you don't really care, y'know?"

they're tempted to say no to all of his other options, finding them a bit... corny, but the crestfallen look on yuuta's face when they boo the flowers kills any thoughts of disapproving his other options. plus, knowing you, you're bound to like it.

boyfriend! yuuta who takes maki's and nobara's advice to heart. he never wants to neglect you or make you feel unwanted.

boyfriend! yuuta who does his research on the different types of flowers and their meanings. he jots down some on a sticky note, but the second he comes across the forget-me-nots, his decision is made.

boyfriend! yuuta who scrolls through forums and social media posts to find an idea of what the perfect gift for you should be.

boyfriend! yuuta who buys you this necklace. he thinks it's beautiful, and it's not as forward as a promise ring.

boyfriend! yuuta who perfectly wraps and bags your gifts. he wraps the heart-shaped box of chocolates, places the teddy bear into a gift bag with red and pink tissue paper, and ties the box holding your necklace with a red ribbon.

boyfriend! yuuta who makes sure the bouquet of forget-me-nots are fresh and cut.

boyfriend! yuuta who can't stop bouncing his leg while waiting for you to show up. the waitress has asked him if he needed anything about three times.

boyfriend! yuuta who smiles nervously when you enter the cafe and take a seat at the somewhat secluded table.

boyfriend! yuuta who tries his best to ignore the knots in his stomach as he places his gifts on the table. there's already an apology ready on his tongue if you don't like any of the gifts or if you're allergic to chocolate, despite yuuta asking you numerous times beforehand and seeing you eat chocolate before.

boyfriend! yuuta whose anxiety instantly disappears once he sees that beautiful smile bloom on your face and the grateful twinkle in your eyes.

boyfriend! yuuta who decides right then and there that he'd do anything to continue seeing that big, bright smile.

note: sorry i haven't posted... writing has been difficult lately + skewl has been ass SOO yeah! sorry y'all :( umm i have sumn for bff! sukuna but idk if anyone would actually like it? like i don't wanna ruin the og post by posting some sequel (prequel?) that nobody gaf abt. also try for 400+ notes on that post omg!!! also also i swear i haven't forgotten abt daycare attendant! nanami i just have no ideas n the ones i do have are rotting in drafts... anyway i've rambled long enough ENJOY UR DAYYYY GUYS <333

[sadquickchristmassnowman]

hey so i’m new to the community fandom and i really love trobed. i was wondering what was your trobed centric episode masterlist like? or if it’s possible, is there a way to send me the post? sorry i’m new to tumblr so i’m still learning how this app works. if you see this, thanks :)

hi, welcome! I've found that community tumblr is probably my favorite fandom space I've ever been involved in, and I hope you've had a good experience so far. I totally get the New App Learning Curve thing, I'm historically very shit at learning how to use new apps, even though I'm "young" (20), but I eventually got it and you will too, Trust 👍👍👍

anyway, Yes one of the first things I did on here after joining was make a trobed-centric episode masterlist for someone who was asking lmfao. since it was one of the First things I did there's some formatting and other things I'd do differently now, and I've actually been looking for an excuse to go ahead and get that done, so. here we go.

the trobed-centric episode masterlist (revamped)

1x05: advanced criminal law

plot B

abed takes the "friends mess with each other" rule too far; he creates a whole fake language and spends a lot of money on trying to convince troy that he is an alien

"from now on, abed, friends don't mess with each other"

(this is the first time they do their signature handshake)

1/5 gayness, pretty platonic

1x10: environmental science

plot B

it's the "somewhere out there" episode what more do I need to say

3/5 gayness, something's happening fs

1x11: the politics of human sexuality

plot C

abed keeps beating troy in athletic competitions, making troy feel threatened. he eventually admits that abed is the better athlete and they make up

2/5 gayness, pretty platonic but it has its moments

1x22: the art of discourse

plot C

troy and abed work to complete abed's list of quintessential freshman year of college experiences list

2/5 gayness, they repeatedly put completing the list above looking cool in front of women

1x25: pascal's triangle revisited

plot C

troy is moving out of his dad's house and wants to move in with abed, but abed says no because he's afraid being that close and spending that much time together will result in constant annoyance, and will destroy their friendship

troy realizes that "too much of a good thing can be bad" and instead agrees to move in with pierce

1/5 gayness

2x02: accounting for lawyers

part of plot A

jeff gets sucked back into his old life as he reconnects with alan, a coworker from his old law firm. troy, abed, and annie try to gather proof that jeff's friend is the one who got him fired in the first place

more trobedison centric, and is actually the first episode where the three of them are established as a Trio™

"all I heard was suck" "YOU CHLOROFORMED THE JANITOR" "I usually have one foot out of reality and even I'm freaking out right now"

1/5 gayness, pretty platonic. they're the sillies ever I love trobedison

2x06: epidemiology

part of plot A

it's the zombie episode, come ON

trobed have coordinating costumes but troy bails during the party because he doesn't want to look lame and nerdy in front of women, which hurts abed's feelings

abed sacrifices himself to save troy once they are the last two standing during the "rabies pathogen" breakout

"I love you" "I know" (oh my GODDD sedate me)

5/5 gayness. you get it.

2x09: conspiracy theories and interior design

plot B

the original blanket fort 💯💯💯

2/5 gayness, just guys bein silly (and in love???)

2x15: early 21st century romanticism

plot B

troy and abed fall for the same girl and decide to take her to the valentine's dance together, after which she can decide which one of them she wants to date

she picks troy, but troy gets upset that she didn't pick abed (because why wouldn't she pick abed, he's so cool) and breaks it off almost immediately

I"happy valentine's day" "it is now"

5/5 gayness jesus christ this one is INSANE

2x18: custody law and eastern european diplomacy

plot B

britta likes troy and abed's new friend, lukka, who she finds out is a literal war criminal. she keeps this information from troy and abed because she doesn't want to ruin their friendship with him, but they find out eventually

2/5 gayness they're attached at the hip in this one

2x19: critical film studies

random moments

this episode is more focused on jeff and abed, but there's a lot of classic Troy Gets Jealous™ moments so I decided to include it. plus the end tag is them randomly having dinner together at the fancy restaurant (a date 😔)

basically troy is afraid that jeff is a cooler friend to abed than him

3/5 gayness even though they barely interact, troy is so silly

2x20: competitive wine tasting

part of plot B

I almost didn't include this one, and it's not even on my original list, but whatever

troy pretends to be traumatized, originally to seem less shallow in his acting class, but he keeps it going in order to attract britta. he tells abed about it and abed Does Not Like That At All

"troy. nothing good can come of this"

I wouldn't call abed being jealous a Rare Occurrence but he generally conceals it way better than troy does

2/5 gayness, could be interpreted as abed just worried about relationships forming under false pretense, but to Me he's jealous

2x22: applied anthropology and culinary arts

plot C

pierce buys the rights to troy and abed's handshake (a la Indecent Proposal) which "corrupts" it

"pierce tainted our special handshake with his blood money and now we can't get the magic baaaack :((((("

eventually they do indeed get the magic back

3/5 gayness idk there's something about the way they interact in this one that is inexplicably gay to me lmao

3x01: biology 101

plot C plus random moments

"speaking of figuring things out, me and abed have an announcement" "..." "troy and I are living together :D"

cougartown gets moved to midseason, then cougarton abbey ends after 6 episodes, abed's routine keeps getting thrown off, and troy is just extremely supportive and protective throughout

4/5 gayness troy loves him a lot!!!!!!

3x03: remedial chaos theory

random moments

(I know this ep is listed as 3x04 on streaming services but in canon it takes place here and on the dvds it's listed as 3x03. there's a joke about it in the episode too if you didn't know. anyway)

"troy and abed's new apartment!!!" "bienvenido a la casa chez trobed!" "wanna stay up all night talking in our bunk beds?"

all their pictures on the wall and their matching suits lol

the end tag "evil troy and evil abed" & troy's soft "what's wrong :("

3/5 gayness they're lowkey married your honor

3x05: horror fiction in seven spooky steps

random moments

troy's whole story he tells where they Literally become attached at the hip

"my partner"

troy dancing while abed's humming daybreak

2/5 gayness

3x06: advanced gay

plot B

troy deciding whether he wants to do plumbing or air conditioning and deciding all he really wants to do is watch tv with abed

gay symbolism? gay symbolism? gay symbolism?

4/5 gayness mostly for the conversation at the hawthorne wipes gathering. I could write an essay on just that

3x07: studies in modern movement

plot A

annie moves in with troy and abed. very trobedison centric

"kiss me woodsman troy!"

3/5 gayness once again casually in love they're soulmates your honor

3x09: foosball and nocturnal vigilantism

plot B

annie breaks abed's $200 special edition dark knight dvd set on accident, trobedison shenanigans ensue yippee!!!

"awww is that the grappling hook I got you for christmas???"

3/5 gayness for the same reasons as before

3x10: regional holiday music

part of plot A

literally putting this on here just because of the christmas infiltration rap (and baby boomer santa)

3/5 gayness it's glee club what can you do

3x11: contemporary impressionists

plot A

(once again, I know this episode is listed as 3x12 on streaming services, but in canon it's supposed to chronologically be here, and is listed as 3x11 on the dvds)

the study group helps abed pay off his debts to a celebrity impersonator website by playing characters at a bar mitzvah (after troy scolds them for trying to ground abed in reality)

they have an argument at the end ugh

3/5 gayness troy loves abed a lot and abed doesn't realize that he's doing something wrong

3x12: urban matrimony and the sandwich arts

plot C

(see the above disclaimer about episode order)

troy and abed decide to be normal for shirley's wedding rehearsal

troy and abed being normal 🤝

4/5 gayness they blow off a girl to be weird again

3x13: digital exploration of interior design

plot C

blanket fort: redux (oh god)

vice dean laybourne escalates what started as a minor disagreement in order to drive a wedge between troy and abed. it works

5/5 gayness, if a sitcom doesn't have the two codependent fanonical gays go through an unnecessarily dramatic "break up" then I don’t want it

3x14: pillows and blankets

plot A

🎶troy and abed are in conflict🎶 *cries*

pillow fort vs. blanket fort

they eventually make up but not before they hurt each others' feelings a Lot

5/5 gayness the dramatics jesus christ

3x16: virtual systems analysis

random moments

so this episode is more focused on abed and annie, and troy and abed actually don't Technically interact with each other very much at all, but. you know

abed kinda freaks out when troy and britta go on a date because it "messes with the fabric of the group" (🤨 I know what you are)

troy calls annie to "check on abed" boy you are on a date with a woman

4/5 gayness just from subtext you get it

3x17: basic lupine urology

random moments

troy and abed play detective as they try to figure out who sabotaged the group's biology project

"we can't both do the zinger"

4/5 gayness no explanation

3x19: curriculum unavailable

random moments

the study group is expelled from greendale and abed gets arrested for spying on campus, so he's supposed to have a psychological evaluation

troy is just very protective of him in this episode, plus the flashback clip where he and Annie are comforting him as he's freaking out about daylight savings

"our adventures are VERY manly"

4/5 gayness

3x21: the first chang dynasty

random moments

oof baboof with you two! (all the plumber shenanigans are hilarious)

mostly putting this one on here for the goodbye scene at the end of the episode, though. god

"he said, 'I know you hate when people do this in movies.' sorry I got emotional"

3x22: introduction to finality

plot B

abed "goes crazy" without troy (who's off at a/c repair school)

when troy comes back he prioritizes abed over britta (who he supposedly has romantic feelings for)

"I miss abed so much" "you're afraid you'll go crazy without troy"

4/5 gayness one could say they're a little codependent

4x03: conventions of space and time

plot A

troy gets jealous of (read: goes "psycho girlfriend on") abed's new inspector spacetime superfan friend toby

britta, even as troy's literal girlfriend, calls abed troy's boyfriend and supports troy through the whole thing

"for the first time in my long history of being locked inside things, I knew someone would come" let me just put my head through my wall really quick

5/5 gayness even though troy has a whole gf. that's how gay this episode is

4x11: basic human anatomy

plot A

troy and abed pretend to switch bodies, like in freaky friday, in order to help troy process his feelings about his relationship with britta

5/5 gayness holy SHIT y'all. I could write thousands of words on this episode. it is so hard to justify troy's actions in this one without reading him as a closeted gay person not lying

5x03: basic intergluteal numismatics

random moments

including this one because of how abed comforts troy and pushes him around in a wheelchair for the entire episode

3/5 gayness it's the casual married-ness again smh

5x04: cooperative polygraphy

random moments

this is another one I didn't include on my original list but I decided fuck it

the bit uncovering the actual origin of their patented handshake is so funny "I can't even look at you right now" "then you should know I'm crying"

also just the. look on abed's face when troy agrees to go on the trip at the end. "cool. cool cool cool." "that's a lie" UGHHHHH

4/5 gayness again. so typical

5x05: geothermal escapism

plot A

do I need to say a word

ouch ouch ouch OUCH

5/5 gayness especially the deleted dialogue from the last scene (I've posted it before but lmk if you don't know what I'm talking about. disclaimer it makes me want to launch myself off the empire state building)

alright. there it is folks. I was going to make another subsection of other random iconic trobed moments and cite the episodes they're from but basically every single episode has at least one, so that list would be Way too long to qualify as a supplement to this one lmao. however! if you have a Trobed Moment™ stuck in your head (or any Moment for that matter) and you can't remember which episode it's from feel free to ask me, I'm confident that my internal community database will be able to Remind You. anyway. hope this was helpful. bye

[armoricaroyalty]

𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 / ❛ boy crazy ❜ part two (@nexility-sims)

When Zofia walked into a room, everyone noticed. It might have been the enormity of her hair or the constant noise of her rings and bracelets or else the overwhelmingly sweet scent of her favorite body mist, but she was captivating in every sense of the word. Hannah had been jealous of her, once upon a time. It would have been impossible to grow up with her without any jealousy: next to Zofia, everyone became shabby and dull. Ranks didn't matter at all, no title or royal honor could ever compete with that kind of natural charisma. Hannah loved her, but there had been days when she'd hated her, too. Now, though, she was only grateful. When Zofia walked in, nobody noticed the rest of them slipping out.

read part one here

author's note: @nexility-sims and I have been working on the zofia/rui romance since....early 2022? some time in 2021? since #rufia has completely dominated 2/3 of our joint brain power for years, it seemed fitting to finally let them out of our DM's to celebrate Love Day Valentine's Day. Happy V-Day, everyone!

Transcript under the cut.

CHEF | Aren't long nails against dress code, anyway? SERVER | [laughs] Girl, I don't give a fuuu— SERVER | You wanna know who else is wearing acrylics tonight? CHEF | [bored] I dunno, who? SERVER | Oh, nobody, just the Princess Zofia. CHEF | [gasps] CHEF | Shut. Up. You actually talked to her? What was she like? SERVER | She's fucking gorgeous. Like, obviously, but up close, she's even more beautiful. CHEF | Yeah, yeah, but what was she like? SERVER | Okay, so I didn't actually talk to her because she was all over her new boyfriend. They were like, so into each other. It was so sweet. CHEF | Really? I heard it's just a PR relationship so people will think she's over Sigis. SERVER | No way! They're obviously crazy abut each other. You can't fake— UNIDENTIFIED MAN | [offscreen] EVERYBODY OUT! HUGO | What, do I gotta say it again? All of you, clear out! HANNAH | [sighs] Please excuse us. HANNAH | My cousin and I need somewhere to speak privately. Will you please excuse us for a moment? CHEF | ??? SERVER | [shrugs] HUGO | ...anyway, did you see it? HANNAH | See what? HUGO | That stupid little hair flip. He did it a million times. HANNAH | He's growing it out for her. HUGO | Really? Hard to believe, he's so fucking vain. HANNAH | She told me she asked him to grow it long. [deep, beleaguered sigh] She thinks it's sexy. HUGO | What, are you for real? HANNAH | Oh yeah. She's always had a thing for guys with long hair. HUGO | ...huh. HANNAH | Anyway...what's your take? Personally, I don't see what she sees in him. HUGO | [snorts] He's better than Marshall. HANNAH | That's the world's lowest bar. Subterranean, in fact. HUGO | So what are we going to do? HANNAH | He's not a dog, we can't just run him off. HUGO | Well, you can't, but maybe if I— PIDGE | [offscreen] HEY! What are you two talking about? PIDGE | ...and why are you hanging out in the kitchen? ARTHUR | ....hi. HUGO | [icily] Farrier. HANNAH | It's late, Pidge. What are you still doing up? PIDGE | Uh, excuse you. Mama said I can stay until midnight. ARTHUR | ...you two aren't talking about Rui and Zofie, are you? HUGO | ... HANNAH | ...no. PIDGE | You two are such LIARS! PIDGE | Both of you are judgy control freaks! I thought he was really nice. HUGO | He could barely string a sentence together. ARTHUR | I mean...Armorican is his third or fourth language, isn't it? HUGO | Whatever! He gives me the creeps. HANNAH | Well, she says she's in love. HUGO | [scoffs] In love? They've known each other for six months. PIDGE | So? What if it was love at first sight? HANNAH | [exasperated] Pidge— HUGO | Just ignore her, she's fourteen. PIDGE | For your information, I'm fifteen. And I'll be sixteen in May, sooo— HUGO | Yeah, a baby— ARTHUR | Can I remind everyone that Zofia is twenty-two? She's an adult, she can make her own choices, and this is none of our business. HUGO | You're right, Farrier. It's none of your business. HANNAH | [offscreen] Hugo, enough. PIDGE | [mouthing] Rude. HANNAH | Arthur, what was your read? ARTHUR | I don't know, and I don't want to form a judgment until I've actually gotten to know him. He seems...fine? On par with the other guys she's dated. HANNAH | [sighs] "On par with all her other boyfriends" is the entire problem. HANNAH | I just don't want her to get hurt again. This happens every time, you know? She falls hard and fast and then the guy turns out to be a scum-sucking lowlife. PIDGE | [laughs] Hellooooo, what about Van? He was— HANNAH | Probably thw worst of all of them. Trust me, Pigeon. He's...he's no good. HUGO | [jokingly] You see, baby bird? That's why you're not allowed to date until you're thirty and why Hannah's gonna join a convent— PIDGE | No way, that's not fair. HANNAH | [tiredly] Hugo, shut up. No one asked. PIDGE | Yeah, Hugo. No one asked. ARTHUR | Look, I think we should at least give the guy a chance. HANNAH | [sighs] I guess we owe her that much. PIDGE | Guys, I actually talked to him, and trust me: he is like, sooo nice. HUGO | ... HUGO | I bet I could take him. PIDGE | Hey! Hannah, did you hear what he just said—

[t-nd-rfoot]

SUNFLOWER aka The Secret Valentine

There's something special about the happiness that comes from flowers.

Pairing Bob Floyd x female!aviator!OC/reader (callsign: Honey, but he calls you Bee)

Theme fluff

Warnings Valentine's clichés (ish); love triangle (ish); mentions of drinking; Hangman does something OOC (but roll with it please); edited a million times but I'm sure there's still a typo or two

Word Count 5.9k

Note Oh my goodness. This was....a headspinner to write, to say the least. First of all, so many thanks to @avaleineandafryingpan for requesting this and being so patient and kind!!! This was supposed to be a quick Valentine's drabble and lol. Look at the word count. And I'm about a week late from Valentine's Day. Secondly, a quick thanks to bestie @hangmanbrainrot for giving me advice on writing OCs! I'm not sure if Honey ended up being an OC since I wrote it in reader's POV but hey, I'm learning 😅 anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this!

If you enjoyed this, please reblog! Reblogs are the best way to support creators (writers, artists, gif makers, everyone!) on this platform. Share the content, share the love!

It started with a sunflower.

One lonely sunflower sitting on the railing of your porch, its bright and yellow petals made it hard to miss on your out of your house on your way to the hangar.

How did this get here? you wondered aloud as you picked it up.

You looked up and down the street, hoping to see its owner, but it was still too early for anyone to be up. A few officers here and there were on their way to work just like you, but there was no other sunflower in sight. None on their porches, none on the ends of their walkways, none in their hands.

Shrugging it off, you took it as a sign for a good day. You figured it might make you late if you looked for a vase to put it in, so you placed it on the passenger seat of your car along with your work things and headed off.

“Happy love day, ladies!”

Hangman’s voice boomed as you, Phoenix, and Halo walked in the tactical auditorium. The guys were all scattered around the room and talked in groups, seeing as Maverick was running late to brief all of you on today’s drills.

‘Happy Valentine’s Day!’s and ‘thank you’s echoed around as all of you greeted each other.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Bee,” Bob greeted as he walked up to you. You smiled as his special callsign—he refused to call you by your real callsign, Honey—rolled off his tongue, always teasing him about the adorable blush he sported whenever he said it.

“Thank you, Bobby, and Happy Valentine’s Day to you!”

He looked at you, a small grin forming on his face, though he never said a word.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” you laughed.

He shrugged. “Nothing. You just seem extra happy today,” he pointed out.

Smiling even wider at the memory of this morning, you replied, “Well, it’s a happy day today, I guess. I found a sunflower on my porch this morning.”

“You mean you actually found it? Or do you mean ‘you found one in a flower shop and bought it for yourself’ kind of ‘found it’?” he teased.

You shouldered him playfully as he apologized. “I found it-found it. I have no idea how it got there or who placed it there, but I’m not going to question it. I got a free flower this morning and that’s all that matters,” you laughed.

Bob was one of your closest friends in and out of the Navy, graduating from the same TOPGUN class and working in Lemoore together before he got reassigned to North Island for the uranium plant mission. No matter where the two of you ended up, though, you somehow always found your way to each other as it wasn’t long till you were called back to TOPGUN as well. Though you missed being in the plane with him, the two of you were just happy to be working together again. Things between you picked up right where they left off, though the two of you had gotten closer—always sitting together at The Hard Deck or in the ready room, having lunches with Phoenix, and even going on morning jogs together down the beach. He even ditched Mickey as a teammate at pool, always calling first dibs to join you instead.

You turned to your seat when you saw that it had been decorated, and you noticed that Phoenix’s and Halo’s were as well. They were laughing with the others over the appropriately hand-drawn cards that were placed on the seats, along with a few small cut-out hearts. Clouds and wings were drawn around Halo’s cursive card, and Phoenix’s was drawn with fiery lettering.

The most detailed one, however, was yours—it was a full scene with a garden with flowers and bees in the background, and honey dripping down the block letters.

“Oh my gosh,” you cried out, “this is adorable!”

“You’ll never guess who made them,” Bob whispered.

Your eyes scanned the room and pointed to all your suspects. “Fritz? Coyote? Fanboy?” and all were denied with the shake of his head. Just as you let out a sigh of defeat, Bob pointed to the blond aviator who was talking to Phoenix.

“Hangman?!”

Bob nodded as you continued staring at Hangman. “He was one of the first ones here,” he informed you, “Just barged in with the cards and markers told us to help set it up.”

Overhearing your conversation, Harvard chimed in, “it felt like a pre-school in the locker room, or some weird Santa’s Valentine’s workshop.”

“First of all,” Hangman walked up to you, “my niece actually deserves fifty percent of the credit for pretty much bossing me around to do something nice for the ‘pretty ladies who always give her chocolate,’” he quoted as he slung his arm around you, “and naturally, I get forty-five percent for listening to her. The guys can split the other five for helping.”

Just the image of Hangman sitting down and cutting out paper hearts with his eight-year old niece had you giggling. “Aww, who knew Bagman had such a soft spot?” you pinched his cheek.

Hangman flashed his million dollar smile at you, “Honey, you know I always have a soft spot for pretty ladies.” He threw a quick wink at you before walking back to Phoenix and Fritz.

Could he have left the sunflower? you thought. This definitely was not the first time Hangman’s flirted with you. Knowing him, you always thought it was just light banter, but now, you were second guessing.

“Actually, his original plan was to decorate your lockers, but you can probably see how that might look like a problem,” Bob told you once Hangman was out of earshot.

“Probably,” you hummed sarcastically.

He was about to say something else when Maverick burst through the auditorium doors and rushed to the front of the room. You and the rest of the squad rushed to your seats before Maverick allowed you all to sit.

“Morning, guys. Sorry, I’m late. Had some…motorcycle problems.”

Rooster cleared his throat. He gestured tiny circles at the side of his own neck. The older pilot looked confused until the young Bradshaw mouthed ‘Penny,’ and his eyes shot wide before he cleared his throat and tugged up the collars of his flight suit.

“Let’s get to work!”

The squad rushed out of the locker rooms as soon as they could so they could get ready for their dates. Yale had just finished talking about his plans with his date when the others started talking about their plans.

“How about you, Honey? Got a big date for tonight?” Coyote asked as all of you walked out the building.

“Mhm, I got McDreamy and McSteamy waiting for me at home right now,” you joked.

Halo laughed from beside you. “Now that’s a threesome I can get behind,” she joked.

“Ouch, a Grey’s Anatomy marathon on Valentine’s Day?” He whistled lowly.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds, okay?” you defended yourself, “At least there’s a Valentine’s Day episode! And besides, I didn’t hear you say anything about a ‘hot date’.”

He held his hand, feigning offense. “You wound me, Honey. And I just so happen to have one waiting for me as we speak!” And he rushed off to his car.

“You know, the more you try to hide her from us, the more we think she’s not even real!” Payback called out. Coyote didn’t even look back at the squad as he flipped the bird and drove off.

“Coyote has a girlfriend?” you asked.

Rooster snickered, “an imaginary one.”

“He says he met someone months ago, but he’s not giving us anything else,” Fanboy added, “no name, no story, nothing. Just that every other week or so, he meets up with her.”

“Or so he says,” his best friend quipped. “The fact that even I don’t know about her is something, and he usually never shuts up about someone he’s interested in.”

The group decided then to go their separate ways to get their Valentine’s Day started, but Bob walked all the way with you to your car.

“So, you really have no date for tonight?” he asked.

You shook your head in reply as you loaded your things in the backseat of your car. “It’s not that I don’t like Valentine’s,” you suddenly found your self ranting, “it’s just that no one’s asked me this year, and I’m fine with that. I’m not gonna sit around and wallow—well, I’m going to sit around and have my Grey’s marathon, yeah—but I’m not going to wallow! And it’s not like it’s the end of the world that nobody’s asked me to be their Valentine…right?”

You looked up at Bob to find his big blue eyes staring back at you, clearly at a loss for words from your little spout.

“Oh my gosh, I sound so pathetic,” you muttered. “Please, please forget I said anything, I—”

Bob burst into laughter and hugged you tight to try and calm you down.

“This isn’t funny, Bobby!” you said, though you couldn’t hold back your own laughter.

Looking up at him once again, you found his blue eyes already on you, though there was more sincerity in his gaze this time. And something else, but you couldn’t put a finger on it. You and Bob have both looked at and hugged each other a million times before, but the way he looked at and hugged you now felt different. Suddenly, you were both aware of the position you were in and pulled back. He ran his finger through his hair nervously while you crossed your arms, unconsciously missing the warmth of his embrace.

You stole glances at him as you cleared your throat. “So, um…how about you? Do you have a date tonight?”

It took a few seconds for him to answer. “Yeah,” he mumbled, suddenly finding the stray gravel on the pavement more interesting than you.

A small ‘oh,’ escaping your lips, you put on a poker face. “Wow, um, since when?” you asked.

“Oh, um, it’s been…awhile, I guess.” he trailed off.

Relationships weren’t a strange topic for either of you, but looking back, you were more open about your love life than he was. Maybe he met someone before you arrived. Maybe he didn’t want to let anyone know, especially if he thought the others were going to tease him about it. Maybe he didn’t say anything because you never asked…until now. Knowing Bob, he never dated casually, so this must have been serious. But he never kept things from you. Not in his emails, not in his texts, and certainly not in person. But you weren’t insulted, just confused, if you could ever admit.

“Well, whoever she is, she’s a lucky girl,” you assured, “I’m really happy for you, Bobby!”

You climbed into your car before your emotions started to show, but just before you stepped on the gas, Bob knocked on your window and you let it roll down.

“You’re not pathetic, Bee. In fact, you’re far from it, not even close to it. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Your lips turned up graciously at your best friend’s words of encouragement.

“Thanks, Bobby.”

“And if you ever start to feel that way again, just think about your sunflower,” he gestured to the plant in your passenger seat.

“It’s wilting,” you pointed out disappointedly.

“So?” he shrugged, “it’s still pretty. It’s still a sunflower.”

With a small grin, he pushed himself off your car to let you get home and waved goodbye.

You were about to pull up to your driveway a few minutes later when a delivery driver showed up and asked for your name.

“Yeah, that’s me?” you said before they handed you a bag. “Um, I don’t remember ordering anything…”

“Don’t worry, it’s all taken care of,” they informed you with a kind smile.

“By who, if I can ask?”

They shook their head, “Sorry, I was given specific instructions to not say anything. Though from what’s in the box, I’d say you have a secret admirer!”

After they left, you walked in your kitchen to open the bag. Inside was a stark white box with neon squiggles.

“Sugarlust,” you read aloud the sticker that sealed it. The bakery Coyote always goes to, you recognized.

A small card with a printed message was also stuck to the box ‘I’m no TV surgeon but I hope you find these just as good!’ No name.

Sure enough, it was a box of the salted caramel cookies you loved from the last time he bought a box for everyone. A quick flashback of Coyote’s proud smile popped in your head, of when you couldn’t stop raving about it and his promise to buy more next time.

You picked up the sunflower from the table and twirled it in your hand. The hours it lay in the heat showed in the paling yellow petals, and though you had no idea how to care for it, you placed it in a watered vase anyway.

Maybe it was Coyote, you thought. It certainly checked: he had your address, he knew you liked sunflowers, and he remembered the cookies you loved. But he said he’s on a date…unless he was pretending? The other guys definitely thought he was.

Refusing to confuse yourself any longer, you gave one last glance at the sunflower, took a bite from your cookie, and hoped that Derek Shepherd and Mark Sloan could distract you…for now.

“I'm in love with Teddy. I love her.”

“You're like Lexie with the inappropriate feelings for inappropriate people.”

“What can I say? My heart lives in my scalpel.”

The Seattle Grace Mercy West surgeons were trying to play baseball when your phone chimed. Phoenix and Halo were currently messaging the squad group chat.

Bassett Hound 🐾💗 date was a bust. reservation got screwed and they refuse to go anywhere else told them i refuse to waste this outfit hard deck anybody?

Pixie Nix 🧚✨ aw hales 😞 sorry to hear that if it helps, my date spoke more words to the waiter than to me don’t have to ask me twice

Bassett Hound 🐾 hbu @Mamma Mia 🍯🍯 ? we’ll be your valentines ❤️

Glancing between the half-eaten box of cookies and the Grey’s Anatomy theme running on your screen for the fourth time in a row, you decided that maybe it isn’t too late to salvage the holiday.

You showed up feeling a bit more refreshed from earlier. You opted to dress up just the slightest bit more than usual since you figured Phoenix and Halo would be too, coming from their dates.

The bar wasn’t crowded—a lot of the regulars you recognized were probably out on dates—but it looked like a haven for lonely hearts, single people dotting the bar or nursing their drinks at their small tables. You spotted some introducing themselves to others, and one lucky couple just escaped through the side door. The pool table, however, was as lively as ever with some of its usual suspects. Halo and Phoenix had already started a game, but you were surprised to see a few of the others there as well—Rooster and his girlfriend, Omaha and his wife, and Bob—who all cheered as you approached the table.

“Come here often?” Phoenix fake flirted.

“Only when I’m summoned with magic,” you came back and hugged her. “What brings the rest of you here?”

“We didn’t feel like going home just yet, then I saw Halo’s text in the group chat and she wanted to say hi,” Omaha explained and gestured to his wife as you went around greeting the others. “Rooster’s car broke down about a half mile up the road.”

“Excuse you, the Bronco doesn’t break,” Rooster interrupted, “It just…swerved off the road a little. But it’s fine. Just needed to stretch our legs a little.” His girlfriend giggled silently as he pulled her close to his torso and started whispering in her ear.

You took your usual seat on the stool next to Bob’s. “So I’m guessing Coyote’s date was real? Since he’s not here, I mean.”

“Looks like it,” he agreed as he sipped on his water. Noticing your lack of banter, he studied the pensive look on your face. “Why’d you ask?”

Your train of thought broke as he spoke. “What? Oh, um, it’s nothing,” you said nervously, “Forget I asked.”

“If you’re thinking about it this hard, it’s probably not nothing,” he egged on. “What is it?”

You could never say no to Bob. He was your best friend and you trusted him. Even though you were a little hurt that he kept his girlfriend a secret from you, you just couldn’t bring yourself to make it even. “Okay, so you know how I found a sunflower this morning?” you said in a low voice.

He nodded silently, letting you continue without being interrupted.

“I didn’t want to think anything of it at first. I just figured that someone—I don’t know, ‘neighborly person’ in a Valentine’s-y mood, I guess—left flowers up and down the street. But no one else had one so I just brushed it off. But then there was Hangman this morning with the cards and the flirting, and I thought it felt different. But it’s Hangman. You can never really tell with him, right? So I brushed that off. Then when I got home, get this: I get a delivery of cookies from Sugarlust. Coyote’s bakery. And it wasn’t just any cookie, it was the salted caramel cookies that he brought to that one dinner, the ones that I loved. What really did it for me, though, was the card. Something about him not being McDreamy but he hopes I love the cookies just as much. He was the one who commented about my Grey’s Anatomy marathon. And now I’m thinking if he was the one who gave me the flower, and…I don’t know,” you sighed, “I guess I was just hoping to see him here tonight to ask if it was him.”

And like this morning, he was dumbstruck again at your rant. You grew conscious of yourself at his reaction so you changed the subject.

“But enough about me, though. How about you? Where’s your date?” you asked as normally as you could.

Halo stood up after her turn. “Bob had a date?”

All eyes landed on the spectacled wizzo in his usual corner. “Oh. Right. My date.”

“Since when? And how come I don’t know about her?!” Phoenix asked, echoing your conversation and thoughts from earlier.

“Uh, awhile,” he said again, though he sounded more nervous this time, “but it’s okay, um, I don’t think it’s gonna work out…”

Your heart dropped after seeing how dejected Bob looked. “I’m so sorry, Bobby.” You put an arm around him, and he returned your small smile with one of his own.

Phoenix pushed herself off the pool table and handed him her cue stick. “Welcome to the club, Bob.”

Customers came and went in the two hours you have been there, but the eight of you had stayed. Rooster took over the piano, crooning blues covers with Halo, while his girlfriend and Omaha’s wife were talking with Phoenix. You were back on your stool after winning the last round of pool against Omaha, who was now playing darts against Bob.

The lack of a crowd allowed for cool night air to linger inside, that you had borrowed Bob’s jacket to keep you warm.

“What the fuck, bro?!” Omaha groaned in disbelief after Bob hit his fifth bullseye of the night.

“Target locked, and direct hit,” Bob retorted while he picked off his darts from the board.

Omaha took his place as he got ready for another game. “Best of nine,” he challenged and threw his darts immediately.

“Roos baby, I love you, but you’re kinda killing the mood here,” his girlfriend laughed from across the room while he and Halo were in the middle of singing November Rain by Guns N’ Roses. And without missing a beat, he started playing Little Richard’s Tutti Frutti. The lively melody brought the empty bar to life and the four girls started to dance with each other.

Halo called out to you, “Honey! Join us!”

“In a minute, Hales! I’m on dart watch from Omaha,” you pointed your thumb to the brunette who had just lost another game to Bob. He was practicing his aim when Bob took his seat beside you.

“Let me know when you’re done warming up, Vikander,” he taunted, his competitive side coming out now that he was more relaxed.

“Gonna make you eat your words, Floyd,” Omaha came back.

You and Bob entered your little world again from your seats. You watched as he chugged his water, his glasses slipping from the bridge of his nose.

“How’re you holding up there, Bobby?” you asked.

He let out an exhausted laugh. “You’d think darts wasn’t exhausting, but I think Omaha might as well have me running a marathon if he’s making me play this much.

“We’re aviators,” you snorted, “everything’s a competition.”

“I woke up the beast,” he sighed.

Taking a sip of your own water, you repeated his sentiments back, “You woke up the beast.”

A few beats passed in comfortable silence when he turned to you. “How about you? You don’t wanna join the others?”

“You might be surprised at how much five straight games of pool can do to your legs and back.”

He chuckled, “Well, you better hope you don’t get any push-ups tomorrow.”

It wasn’t even midnight yet when the bar was nearly empty. The jukebox played in the background seeing as Rooster and Omaha joined in on the dancing on the other side of the bar, but you and Bob remained in your seats. Usually, the two of you would be conversing non-stop—talking about the latest podcast he was listening to or your vivid dream from the night before, people watching the tourists, betting on who fellow aviator was going to do what predictable act for the night, or singing along to the music.

But you could sense some slight tension between you two tonight, thinking it might have been from the whole Valentine’s date conversation from earlier. Bob never brought it up afterwards so you didn’t think anything of it too, but now that the two of you were alone, you could see the somber expression return to his face as he stared at the floorboards.

You placed a comforting hand on his shoulder closest to you. “It’s gonna be okay, Bobby,” you said.

He looked up to your encouraging smile, and his empty hand crossed his body, his fingers brushing yours in a silent ‘thank you’.

“Who was she? If I can ask,” you said, “but you don’t have to talk about her if you don’t want to, I don’t wanna pressure you—”

“It’s alright, Bee,” he said softly. He took a deep breath as he turned his eyes back to the floor. “She’s just someone I liked for awhile now.”

“How’d you meet?”

“The usual, you know. Work,” he shrugged.

“So she’s a local?” you inquired.

“Nah, she moved here from upstate.”

After placing his now empty water cup on the ledge behind him, he sat up straighter in his seat. “Guess that makes two of us now.”

Your eyebrows raised in confusion when he let out a low laugh. “Valentines-less,” he referred to your little blather from this afternoon.

You let out your own laugh as you jogged up the memory. “We can be pathetic together,” you jested. “Well, not entirely true, I guess. Halo and Phoenix decided to be my Valentine’s to get me to come here, but I think they’ve got each other covered.”

Bob looked back to see what you were talking about, to find Halo and Phoenix drunkenly belting out Love is a Battlefield a cappella with Rooster’s girlfriend while the aviator just watched their performance. The two of caught a glimpse of Omaha and his wife waving at the two of you just before they exited.

“Besides, it doesn’t seem fair that I have two Valentine’s and you have none,” you continued.

“So what are you suggesting? You give me one of your Valentine’s?” he played along.

You looked up, pretending to think, “Hm, I don’t know if they’d appreciate being someone else’s Valentine without them knowing, so what do you say, Bobby? Will you be my Valentine?” you proposed playfully, even looking up at him through your lashes for added effect.

He smiled tightly. “I don’t think you’re gonna give me a choice, anyway,” he mumbled playfully and you elbowed him, “but sure, Bee. I’ll be your Valentine.” You spotted just the slightest bit of a blush creeping up his neck.

Finally regaining some strength in your legs, you were ready to go home. “Well, I hate to cut our date short, my Valentine, but I think I need to call it a night,” you said, “I hate that you reminded me about the push-ups.”

Bob got up with you. “No worries, Valentine. And trust me, I think the three of them might have it worse than you tomorrow,” he said about your co-workers still in the middle of their impromptu karaoke.

You dug out your phone, wallet, and keys that you kept in his jacket pocket when something else fell out. You picked up a small velvet box tied with a white satin ribbon. What caught your eye was the tag—instead of a name written on it, there was a doodle of a tiny, squiggly, buzzing bee.

Like how the bees looked on Hangman’s card.

You looked up already finding Bob staring at you nervously. His mouth had been drawn in a thin line and the tension that you felt earlier increased tenfold.

Though he never outright said the gift was for you, he watched as you tested him, slowly untying the ribbon. Even as you pried the cover off the box, he never stopped you.

“Bob…?” you whispered in disbelief as you stared at the gift. It was a golden bracelet—two delicately thin chains connected by a shining sunflower charm.

“Hey, you guys okay?” Phoenix called out from the piano.

Neither of you spoke as you continued to stare at him. Seeing as you didn’t respond, Bob replied for the two of you. “Yeah, we’re all good.”

“We’re gonna get going, if it’s okay,” she notified you. All of them had their things gathered, and the bartender on shift was already wiping down the counters.

The two of you waved your goodbyes at them as they headed out. Halo blew flying kisses in your direction as the door shut.

“Take care!”

“Happy Valentine’s!”

“See you tomorrow!”

And then there were two.

Still in shock, you held the box as securely as you could while your mind was still reeling. Bob? The sunflower this morning. The sunflower on the bracelet. The bee on the card. This has to be a coincidence, right? Maybe this was meant for his date? Maybe he’s holding on to it for someone? Maybe he’s—

“Can we talk about this?” You didn’t even realize you had asked it out loud until Bob turned back to you. His eyes grew big, the same way they always did when he started to panic during a drill or a mission.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.”

He led you out to the parking lot where it was still a bit bright from the street lights. The cool breeze bit at your skin when you remembered you were still wearing Bob’s jacket. You had barely taken it off when Bob tugged it securely back on your shoulders.

“It’s freezing,” you insisted, but Bob just shook his head.

“I’m fine,” he muttered.

It was hard to ignore the elephant in the room. Your thumb ran over the bracelet still in its box and the thoughts you had previously came flooding back.

“I don’t even know where to start,” you mumbled.

Bob wiped his face with his hands. “I don’t think there’s any other way of saying it except that it was me. I never had a date, and I was the one who left the sunflower at your door.”

Happiness. Relief. Frustration. Love. You could have been feeling all of those things right now, but no. You were just as confused as ever. “So when I was talking about all those other things, about Hangman and Coyote…”

“That was me too.”

The two of you took a seat on the bottom step of the bar’s front deck. “Hangman and the other guys were cutting out the paper hearts when he told me to bring out the cards from his bag. I didn’t have anything to do, so I just started drawing the garden on your card.”

You toyed with the hand-drawn bee on the card still hanging from the ribbon. “I guess I should’ve known from the card that it was you,” you said, mostly to yourself but loud enough for him to hear. “You’re the only one who calls me ‘Bee.’ Who was the guy from TOPGUN again? The one that you nearly decked—” you smiled trying to stir the memory.

“—But I didn’t—and it was that asshole, Shadow,” he groaned. “Ugh, I’m never gonna forget the way he called you that day.”

“But I still don’t get why you don’t call me ‘Honey.’ Everybody else does. I don’t mind it, you know.”

“I know, I know,” he nodded. “But if I’m one less person to remind you of that day, then I’ll call you ‘Bee’ until you truly forget about it.”

You couldn’t ignore the fluttering in your heart at his confession. You actually haven’t remembered that incident until now, but it was sweet that Bob always tried to make you feel better about it, even if you didn’t realize it.

“That’s real sweet of you, Bobby,” you said warmly. “But speaking of sweets…”

Bob winced jokingly, “Ah, thought I was in the clear.” He had a distant look in his eyes as he recalled, “I still remember the look on your face when you tried the cookies. The two of us alone wiped out half the box before dinner even started. You even begged Coyote to go back for another box after Fanboy ate the last one.” The grin on his face only grew bigger the more he looked back at the memory.

You barely even notice yours did too.

It all made sense now. Bob had been a constant presence in your life ever since the two of you met, even moreso now that you were together back where your friendship started. How you even thought of Hangman or Coyote before you suspected him was beyond you.

There was still one question you needed answered, and it had you on the edge of exasperation. Your voice was small as you spoke, “We were with each other the whole day, Bob. Why didn’t you say anything?”

Just as frustrated as you were, he let out a big breath. “I don’t know. I’m a coward, I guess. I was right there on the sidewalk outside your place, fully prepared to ask you out. Even had a whole speech prepared and everything,” he confessed. He spoke slower and softer, his eyes never leaving yours, “about how I saw the bracelet in a window the other day, and how it reminded me of the sunflowers you painted on my arm that one time I visited you in your hometown. And how I wanted you to have a sunflower on your own hand, then I’d ask you to be my Valentine.”

He looked down at the ground in shame as he continued, “But I got scared. I didn’t want to ruin the friendship, especially since you’ve only been here a month. So I figured after I left your house that it might be easier if you didn’t know it was me, and that’s why I lied about the date. Just in case you were, I don’t know, expecting something…more. Than just me, I mean.”

Taking the box in his own hands, he twiddled with it. “I thought I lost my chance this morning, but then Halo messaged asking you to come. So I came here thinking this could be my second chance until you started asking about Coyote…thought I was done for. You wanted him while I’d stay the idiot that lost you forever.”

Your heart no longer fluttered but burst at his words. A love you had for him that didn’t know was already there had finally surfaced as you shut him up with a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“You’re so much more than what I could ever want, Bobby,” you whispered, scooting closer to him on the step.

A weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and you swore you’ve never seen him smile so widely. Gently lifting the bracelet from its box, he undid the clasp. “May I?” he asked.

You rested your outstretched arm on his knee, allowing him to put it on you. Your nerves awakened at the soft touch of his fingers against your wrist, sending even more shockwaves throughout your body as he clasped his hand around yours afterwards. The bracelet was cool against your skin, but you felt nothing but warmth allover—from his jacket, from his touch, and from the loving feeling dancing inside you.

The moon shone high above you as midnight quickly approached, and you decided to make the most of the last minutes of the day.

“Hey, Bobby. I believe you have one last thing to ask me.”

“Is it the something you actually asked me first?” he teased, but quickly surrendered at the funny look you gave him. Hee gazed sincerely at you, “Bee?”

“Yes, Bobby?” you pretended.

He leaned in close to you till your noses were touching, and whispered slowly, “Will you be my Valentine?”

“I don’t think I have a choice anyway,” you mocked his earlier response as you both laughed, “but yes, Bobby. I’d love to be your Valentine.”

His lips found yours not a second later, fireworks exploding with every kiss that landed on your lips.

The moon stood brightly above, indicating the beginning of another day. Though your days from this point would never be the same, now that you had Bob and Bob had you.

All thanks to a flower given on a front step.

Tag List @roostersrooster @rosesvioletshardy @bonitanightmxres @avaleineandafryingpan @bradshawseresinbabe @hangmanbrainrot @babyonboardfloyd @demxters @footprintsinthesxnd

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Disclaimer I do not own Top Gun: Maverick or any of its characters. Please do not copy my work or translate without my permission.

[immortalmsmoon]

Hi sorry I hope I can make this make sense I was wondering if you’d be able to write some head cannons on how Yusuke, Ryuji, and Akechi (separately) would react to a reader whose love language is making and giving food. Like the reader doesn’t look like they could even boil water only to find out they not only like to cook but is pretty damn good at it. Making them something like a boxed lunch or some sweets for Valentine’s Day or a small treat just because and always asking to make sure it’s to their liking.The reader will make it a point to find out what food they like to get when they order something from a restaurant and learning how to make it to surprise them and will keep an ear out to see if they ask for anything changed or added when ordered so they’ll know to change it so it’s more suited to their crushes taste, and the reader will probably let their crush know that if there’s something they’d like them to make that they’re more than willing to try. Being willing to learn and will make anything be it different types of drinks (classic sweet tea or whipped ice coffee) to a multitude of different entrees (soups, sandwiches, pasta dishes, etc.) and a boat load of different desserts. And early on making sure to have some extra stuff made so they can say they brought something for everyone if they’re worried about seeming too weird or pushy.

Yum!

Cast Line Up: Ryuji Sakamoto, Yusuke Kitagawa, and Goro Akechi

A/N: This is so sweet!! i absolutely love it! Thank you for the request!

Warnings: None, just lots of fluff!

Let me know if i missed any warnings!

Wordcount: 1069

Ryuji Sakamoto

it means so much to him the you go out of your way to make food for him, and find out exactly what he likes.

when you invite him over for a picnic one evening, only to find that you made all of his favourties, he melts

he knows how to cook very few things, and its just the stuff that helps him with track and is high in protein.

when you guys go on coffee dates, and have his favourites memorized, he feels like he's falling in love all over again.

On white day, when he comes over to your house to visit just to see all his favourite snacks laid out for him, he feels like his stomach is filled with butterflies

It had been a long tiring day for Ryuji. He had been training like crazy, and school had been as draining as ever. of course he loved training but it really did a number on him, especially with his crippled knee.

he slowly made his way to his apartment, not wanting to go home just yet. thankfully he received a call from his favourite person, asking him to come over. He quickly changed course, not even caring that he probably still smelled like sweat. it didn't matter, right? you'd probably just be playing video games or reading manga together anyways.

he reached your house quite quickly, and knocked on the door, hearing you squeak a "come in!" from the other side. he quickly opened the door, a grin on his face.

the grin spread even wider at what he saw once he fully walked into your house.

you were running around the kitchen, a cute little apron tied around your waist. all his favourites are on the table, and soon he's smiling so hard his face hurts.

he wraps his arms around your waist, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"How'd ya know, baby? about all the stuff I liked?" he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

"Because. I love you" you say, rubbing his hands with one of yours, the other stirring up some food. "and i may have also asked your mom" you say, blushing slightly. he lets out a laugh, pressing another kiss to your temple.

"love ya baby. More than anything."

Yusuke Kitagawa~

As an acts of service man, there is nothing he appreciates more.

he's never really had anyone take care of him as well as you do. Madarame did, but lets be honest, he was a terrible cook.

It makes him so happy, especially on nights when his art has taken over his life, and its all he can focus on.

he's kind of busy, whether its phantom thieve business, school, or his art, so he never really has time to make himself a good healthy meal.

he really wishes he could return the gesture, but he is no where near as good at cooking as you are.

Everything in Yusuke's dorm except for the painting in front of him had disappeared into a deep blackness, like a black hole had gone through the room and sucked up everything except for himself and the painting.

in the back of his mind he sensed that tonight he would be getting no sleep. it didn't bother him though. he dabbed at his palette, filling up the canvas with colour, sighing every so often when it whatever he was painting didn't come out the way he wanted.

as he continued to paint, he started to hear a voice. he ignored it though, after all he was so close to getting his painting right! just a little longer and it would be perfect-

"Yusuke!" a soft voice called, and then a soft hand appeared out of the abyss that was his room, gently resting on his shoulder. all of a sudden the blackness that had become his surroundings disappeared, and he was in a room, his room. there was a delicious smell, something savory but soft. it smelled amazing. he turned to you, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips when he saw all the food you had prepared. His heart soared; no one had ever put this much effort into taking care of him, not even Madarame. he knew if it hadn't been for you, he probably wouldn't have been eating.

Goro Akechi~

Again, as an acts of service man, it means SO MUCH to him.

he's often very busy with work and school, and it's just so heart warming to come home to you in his apartment, with a cute little apron on, rushing around making him food.

definitely returns the favour, and cooks you all sorts of little goodies. he has a lot of experience due to living alone for so long.

it makes him the happiest if you stop by his work place or school to deliver him food, especially if he's working late or couldn't bring food to school due to being in a rush.

he would eat anything you give him, but will also give you pointers on how to pair flavours and what not.

the moment Akechi saw you at the reception of his work place, his heard skipped a beat. you looked adorable, your small cute face all flushed from the cold weather, a sweet looking bento in your hands.

as soon as Akechi told you he'd be working late you rushed to make him some food. the last thing you wanted was your lovely boyfriend to be stuck at work with no dinner.

to be honest, he had not expected you to come, even when his boss told him someone had come to see him. he figured it would be some unwanted fan girls again, for the 5th time that week. he was pleasantly surprised when he saw you, a little smile on your face.

you quickly walked over to him, setting the bento down on the counter, before reaching up to press a kiss to his cheek. He held your face in his hand, and even though he was usually a stickler about public affection, he was willing to let this slide due to how tired he was. you then handed him the box, giving him one more kiss, before telling to eat all of it, and call you if he was hungry for anything else. he smiled. he was truly so greatfull for you.

[vivalas-vega]

Real Friends / Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Reader / Part Seven

happy valentines day my loves - this seemed to be the perfect chapter to mark the occasion ;) i hope you all had the most lovely day, here is some pure sap and a much needed break in tension between our two favorite friends. I have always wanted to reference a very specific grey’s anatomy scene in my writing and I thought this was the perfect pairing to break it out for - you can watch that here and that is all I’ll say in order to not spoil what’s to come - it is up to you if you watch it before or after you read it ;)

real friends / jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader / part seven

one - two - three - four - five - six 

word count: 4.5k

warnings: sap. lots of sap. 

“Cobra,” Penny started but was cut off by a round of rowdy frat boys to which she gave you an annoyed look. “Cobra, you know I would never ask…” she said, and you just nodded before she even had the chance. She’d lost one of her weekend bartenders and she was definitely feeling it right now as the Hard Deck thrummed with energy and you had no problem slipping behind the bar and taking the spare apron from Penny.

“And you don’t have to, who knows, could be fun to get back into the swing of things,” you smiled as you took an order and got to work. You’d never liked living on base and avoided it at all costs, which resulted in you picking up some bartending shifts in your early twenties to help cover the costs of living on your own on just the Navy’s salary and in all honesty you’d loved it. The energy was usually always good, tips were fantastic, especially on the nights when you dressed to make the old-timers wallets hurt, and it was a great way to distract yourself from the stress of your day job.  It was like riding a bike for you, easy to slip back into your old routine of managing patrons and keeping up with the conversation as well as making sure their drinks were well taken care of and you smiled brightly at Rooster as he approached.

“Have I stepped into an alternate universe?” he asked as you set a beer in front of him.

“Pen was swamped and I happen to know my way around a bar,” you said, mixing up an old fashioned for the guy waiting beside him… based on his young appearance and choice of drink you’d inspected his ID three times to make sure it wasn’t fake. 

“Full of surprises aren’t you?” he teased and you just winked in response, flitting around to clear empty glasses.

“Get away from my bar, Roo, you’re in the way,” you said as you made your way from table to table, pushing him in the direction of the pool table and watching as he joined your group of friends. You helped Penny through the rush, and even got to ring the bell once which was secretly something you’d always wanted to do, and you wiped your hands in satisfaction as you looked over the bar, now only occupied by regulars who weren’t quite as demanding. 

“Cobra, you’re a literal lifesaver,” Penny said, giving your shoulders a squeeze from behind as she slid a rather fat stack of tips your way and you just shook your head.

“Pen, I didn’t say yes for some extra cash, I was happy to help.”

“Come on, most of these are from all the boys on base that are utterly obsessed with you anyways, just take them as a token of my gratitude otherwise I’m never making your margaritas spicy again,” she warned and you placed a hand on your chest in faux shock.

“You would never.”

“Try me,” she smiled, pushing them closer to you and you gave her a soft smile before tucking them away in the pocket of your shorts as she waved you off to join your friends with a fresh drink in hand. 

“Have to say, Cobra, you are a much better bartender than I would have thought,” Rooster said when you approached the pool table.

“I take offense in that, I’ll have you know I bartended for years.” you retorted, “but nevermind that, I uh… I actually have some news, guys.” you said hesitantly, waiting until you had everyone’s attention, trying not to linger on the fact that you’d had Hangman’s all night.

“What, is this where you tell us you're ditching us to spend your days here instead?” Rooster joked and you just shoved his shoulder. 

“No, it’s a little bigger than that… I got a call from Admiral Simpson today, I’m being promoted to Lieutenant Commander,” you said and the entire group broke out in cheers. 

“Holy shit, Cobra, this is amazing!” Phoenix cooed as she pulled you in for a tight hug, “I am so proud of you,” she whispered in your ear.

“Alright, alright, break it up, let me get in there,” Rooster said, pulling you from her arms and into his own. You were essentially passed around the entire group, being hugged so tight you almost thought your ribs could be bruised until you made it to Hangman who really wasn’t sure what to do or say. You still hadn’t spoken, but he didn’t want to let this moment pass either of you by.

“Congratulations, Lieutenant Commander,” he said, giving you a salute and you laughed, shaking your head at him. You tentatively reached out for him and he immediately wrapped his arms around you and lifted you off the ground before twirling you in a circle as you let out a giggle, “I always knew you’d be the first to break Lieutenant,” he said setting you down but keeping his hands on your waist and you had no intention of removing your arms from his shoulders. “You deserve it, Cobra, this and so much more.” You just beamed up at him, his words of praise washing over you and filling your chest with warmth and you pulled away from him when Coyote cleared his throat behind you.

“So, when’s the big celebration?” he asked as you turned to face him and adjusted your dress awkwardly.

“Rather soon actually… they thought we would want to do it before we return from break, turns out they know a thing or two about what we get up to in our free time,” you laughed, “it’s this Friday.” 

“Well, then you and I have to go shopping for dresses. Of course we’ll wear our stuffy dress uniforms for the actual banquet but… afterwards we’re going out for a proper night on the town to celebrate our girl, what do you say?” Phoenix asked, addressing the rest of the group and everyone nodded.

“Oh, oh no…” Bob said and you all looked at him in confusion, “this is going to be a repeat of the night after the uranium mission isn’t it?” he asked and you let out a loud laugh before reaching over to ruffle his hair. Poor sweet Bob had been the only sober one present to keep everyone alive and well after you’d all returned home, desperate to let loose and blow off steam once the mission was over.

“Oh, Bob… have I told you today how much I love you? These new glasses really suit your face,” you said, fully redirecting the conversation which was confirmation in and of itself that yes… it was going to be a repeat.

—--

You stood at attention as Admiral Simpson read out your new rank and you saluted, smiling softly as Maverick came to affix your new pin to your uniform, as was tradition for a loved one to do the honors. You’d thought about calling your family, but with the short notice you knew they’d be unable to attend and Maverick was the next best thing, he’d been absolutely delighted when you’d asked. The night had passed with a blur, you making introductions with several important people you’d not yet had the chance to meet as Cyclone essentially dragged you from person to person. You kept chuckling as you’d spare glances towards your team, keeping up an air of professionalism but if you looked just a little closer you could tell they were getting up to nothing but trouble as they sipped the champagne that seemed to be flowing freely and laughed amongst themselves. You couldn’t help the laughter that escaped you as they all scrambled to salute you when you finally approached their table, almost yelling Lieutenant Commander completely out of sync.

“God, I love you guys,” you said through your laughs, “things are finally wrapping up, still the plan to meet at the Hard Deck at nine?” you asked and everyone nodded as they got ready to leave. 

“Mind if I drive you?” Hangman asked, and you nodded at him despite everything in you telling you no. You made your way out to the parking lot where he opened the door for you and helped you climb in, chuckling to himself as you grunted.

“No reason to have a truck like this in San Diego,” you muttered, buckling your seatbelt as he got in, “purely aesthetic, Jacob Seresin, people back home would laugh at you.” 

“They would not,” he scoffed, pulling out of the lot and beginning the short drive to your home. 

“They surely would. They’d call you a poser, say you’ve forgotten your roots with this fancy thing in the city.” 

“If anything this truck is me remembering my roots,” he countered and you shook your head.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but all the real cowboys back home don’t drive frilly rigs like this.” 

“You know what, I’ll let you have it, seeing as it's your day and all,” he said, smirking at you before returning his eyes to the road.

“As you should,” you said simply, turning your attention out your window as a silence settled over the cab.

“I really am proud of you, you know,” he finally said, “you’ve been busting your ass. Not just on the mission, but by naturally stepping into a leadership role at Top Gun, going out of your way to help everyone… it’s really impressive and I just thought you should know that.” 

“Thank you, Jake,” you said, cheeks flushing under his praise as you pulled into your driveway. “You coming in or will I see you in a few hours?” 

“I’ve got my change of clothes with me but… I- I don’t want to impose,” he said and you smiled softly at his suddenly sheepish demeanor. 

“I did ask, Hangman,” you said, getting out of the truck and making your way to unlock your front door and he was quick to follow. You made your way through the foyer, checking the clock on your wall and seeing you had plenty of time to spare as you kicked your boots off. “I don’t know about you but I am dying to get out of this uniform, bathrooms right there if you want to change,” you said as you made your way down the hallway and into your bedroom where you changed into a tee shirt and flowy shorts to get ready. When you reemerged you had to fight to keep your jaw off the floor, blinking slowly as you took him in, wearing a neutral patterned short sleeve button up with well-fitting blue slacks and he smirked as he noticed.

“Well, you certainly clean up nice,” you said, fetching the pair of you beers before motioning him to follow you to your bedroom where you took a seat at your vanity.

“I should say the same, San Diego won’t know what hit them when you hit the town in those… What are those, daisy shorts?”

“Oh hush, this obviously isn’t what I’m wearing,” you said as you gestured for him to take a seat on your bed and you made eye contact in the mirror as you plugged your curling iron in, “on a scale of one-post uranium mission how rowdy do you think it’s going to get tonight?”

“Considering Phe was already a little tipsy when we left, I’m gonna say it might be a little worse,” he chuckled, taking a sip of his beer.

“Poor Bob,” you mused, sectioning your hair and beginning to curl as he watched with amusement.

“I think he actually enjoys it,” he shrugged. “Look, I’ve been wanting to talk to you… I understand why you’ve been avoiding me, I was entirely out of line with what happened and I just wanted to apologize.”

“You weren’t out of line, Jake,” you said, dropping a section of hair before starting on the next. “You surely took me by surprise, but you weren’t out of line.”

“If it wasn’t out of line you wouldn’t have dropped off the face of the earth for three days… it’s really okay, you have no obligation to spare my feelings, I just want us to go back to how things were… I’ve really missed you.” 

You sighed, setting the iron down and turning to face him, “I did kiss you back. Twice.”

“It’s a little detail I’m willing to overlook,” he said, looking at you with pleading eyes and you felt your body thrum under his gaze, drawing you in and clouding your judgment. Ever since Rooster had shown up at your door, you’d been thinking and overthinking, carefully considering his words and the chord they’d struck within you. 

“I’m not,” you said, turning back around and starting back in on your hair as silence fell over the room. You’d gotten almost all of the way through when he finally spoke again.

“What does that mean?” he asked, running a hand through his hair as his knee bounced nervously.  You finished the last strand of your hair, unplugging the iron as you took a swig of your beer and clipped the front sections away from your face. 

“It means I don’t want to overlook it.” you said, taking a makeup wipe to your face and removing any trace before you could start fresh. 

“Okay, but like… what does that mean?” he asked again, confusion clear as day across his face as he tried to understand what you were implying. You made eye contact in the mirror as you blended foundation into your skin. 

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since you kissed me. Ever since that day you came over and we agreed to be friends I’ve been fighting this… attraction towards you with every fiber of my being because you scare the shit out of me. I’m okay right now, I have great friends, my career is progressing exactly as I would like it to,” you moved on to swirl blush onto your cheeks, speaking so nonchalantly it was as if you were giving him the weather report. “Giving into this, giving in to you, threatens all of that. I’ve never been good at relationships and your track record speaks for itself but I know enough to know that this? This is just dangerous,” you dusted your cheeks with highlighter before taking another drink as he just stared at you blankly. “Letting you in means potentially compromising the friend group, compromising everything I’ve worked so hard for, hell it compromises my own sanity because honestly I think when this burns in it’s going to devastate me,” you said, moving onto your eyes, still speaking so calmly. “These are all things I know to be true and yet I just don’t have any fight left in me anymore.” He finally moved, setting his beer bottle next to yours and placing his hands on the back of your chair, watching you in the mirror as you continued on with your makeup, your focus sharp as you drew wings onto your liner.

“Sweetheart, are we going to get to the part where you tell me what this means?” You remained silent for a moment, sweeping mascara across your lashes before discarding the tube on the messy table top and taking another drink of your beer as you met his eyes.

“It means that if that kiss was foreboding something that is just physical for you, you need to tell me so I can… so I can process it and move on, because I-” for the first time emotion seeped into your voice as you stumbled over your words, and he gently grabbed your arm to pull you up and into him as he stared down into your eyes.

“Honey, I am just as terrified as you are, but you and me… we don’t run from the scary stuff, we dive in headfirst and I don’t want to do anything but that with you. This has never been just physical for me,” he whispered as he cradled your jaw between his hands.

“You are… god, I just, I can’t stand you sometimes because you’re… it’s like you’re in me, even when we weren’t friends and all we did was fight it was like you were apart of me, like I was infected by Jacob Seresin,” you chuckled dryly as tears welled in your eyes and you lost your grip on all the reasons why not you’d been clinging so tightly to as his hands slipped down to grip your waist, “I- I… I love you and I, fuck I didn’t… that just flew right out but I love you,” a tear slipped down your cheek as you unraveled before his eyes and as much as you wanted to force yourself to shut up, to claim some kind of psychotic break and lock yourself in the bathroom you couldn’t stop now that you’d started. “I-I do, I love you and I have been trying so hard to just mash it down and ignore it and not say it because this is just… this is a bad idea and I know it but I just can’t think about anything or anyone and I can’t sleep, I can’t- I can’t breathe because I am just so in love with you and I-” you were cut off by his lips on your own and you melted into him, tangling your hands in his hair as you pulled him closer only for him to pull back and leave you breathless.

“You’re in love with me,” he said, wiping a falling tear and looking down at you almost as if he didn’t believe it and you chuckled, cheeks flushing at the uncharacteristic emotional outburst.

“Be cool about it,” you sighed and he brushed your hair away from your face before placing another quick kiss to your lips. His hands enveloped your jaw, fingers splaying across your neck as he tipped your head back and drank you in.

“I’m so in love with you,” he whispered, kissing you again and you couldn’t help but smile against his lips. He pulled back, reaching to grab your makeup sponge and dab at your cheeks and you gasped, plucking it from his hands and swatting him away.

“What are you doing, you’re going to make it worse,” you said, “very sweet but I’ll fix it myself.” He chuckled, sitting down in your chair and pulling you into his lap as you fixed the tear streaks and ran your fingers through your curls.

“So beautiful,” he mumbled, placing kisses to your shoulder and you smiled softly, standing and pulling him up with you.

“I’ll be right back,” you said, kissing him again and retreating to your closet where you picked out a set of strapless lingerie you’d bought a few weeks ago and slipped your dress on, walking back out and turning away from him, “zip me up?” you asked and you felt his fingers trail up your arm.

“Is that a bit of red lace I see?” he asked, slowly tugging the zipper up, “you’re killing me, honey,” he whispered into your ear before roughly turning you around and pulling you into him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said innocently, giggling as he rolled his eyes at you.

“Sure you don’t,” you escaped his grasp, grabbing your shoes and sitting on the edge of the bed to strap them on and he crouched before you, taking them and sliding them on, carefully fastening them into place as you watched in adoration. His hand trailed up your calf before pulling you up and twirling you around, “you are a sight for sore eyes, honey.” 

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you said, smiling up at him as his fingers brushed just under the hem of your dress.

“Where have you been hiding this thing?”

“You have Phoenix to thank for this,” you laughed and he promised you he would. You briefly thought you should have been freaking out. You should have been overwhelmed by what had come tumbling out of your mouth but you weren’t, you felt lighter than you had in weeks and you felt nothing but excitement at the idea of embarking on a night of celebration with him at your side.

You walked into the Hard Deck hand in hand with Jake, having just got into an argument about kissing you and disrupting your perfectly applied lipstick as everyone’s heads turned to face you. “Look at the lot of you,” Penny said shaking her head, “is the Navy only accepting movie stars these days?” She set a drink before you as you laughed, “this one’s on me, congratulations, Lieutenant Commander.” 

“Thank you, Pen,” you blushed as you approached the rather dapper looking Dagger Squad. “I see everyone understood the assignment tonight,” you teased. 

“Yes, and everyone finish their one drink, we are not wasting this on the place we wind up every night.” Phoenix ordered as Penny approached with her phone out.

“I’m going to try not to take offense to that. At the risk of sounding like a mom on prom night, everyone squish together, I want a photo of you on this most momentous occasion,” she said, gesturing you all to pose and Jake swiftly pulled you into him, his hand settling on your waist as you leaned against him and smiled for the photo before you all broke apart. 

“I’m serious, you might be the woman of the hour but chug. There’s this super cute bar downtown and I want to go before it gets too crowded,” Phoenix said, gesturing to your margarita and you just looked up at Jake.

“And so it begins,” you said, tipping your head back and polishing off the drink, “oh fuck, that was spicy,” you wheezed and everyone laughed as you were whisked away to a rather swanky little bar that seemed a little too posh for what you were sure this night would entail. One shot turned into two, then three and suddenly you were on top of a table with Phoenix as you both drunkenly sang along to Beyonce, flipping off the camera Rooster had pointed in your direction. Your heel precariously slipped off the edge of the table, causing you to lose your balance entirely and before you could even process what was happening you found yourself in Jake’s arms as he just looked down at you amused.

“You doing alright, princess?” he asked and you beamed up at him.

“Wonderful. This is the perfect night,” you grinned and he leaned down to place a kiss on your lips, lipstick be damned, only pulling apart at the chaos it caused.

“Hold on.” Phoenix muttered.

“Oh, I fucking knew it,” Fanboy laughed.

“Are you guys blind? They walked in holding hands,” Rooster pointed out but it only added fuel to the fire. 

“To be fair, I was distracted by her legs,” Phoenix said and you hid your face in Jake’s chest as he placed you back on solid ground. The group devolved into questions and Phoenix just gave you a look, grabbing your hand and pulling you to the bathroom to leave Jake to fend for himself. 

“When did that happen?” she asked and you sighed as you leaned against the sink.

“After the banquet… he drove me home and we got ready together and I don’t know what came over me. I was telling him all the reasons why I didn’t want to and before I knew it I was telling him I was in love with him.”

“A big night for you, indeed,” she said, fixing your hair. “I really am so happy for you. This is good, and I’m not even going to tell you I told you so.”

“I think you just did,” you giggled before the two of you stumbled out of the bathroom with your arms linked. 

“Come on you booze hounds, we’re switching locations,” Rooster said, slinging an arm over Phoenix’s shoulder as Jake navigated you out into the cool night air. The next bar was much more your speed, filled with people just as drunk as you all were and decorated modestly. It was the group's natural instinct to migrate to the pool table, overtaking it and claiming it as your own as you and Jake went head to head. 

“Don’t think I’m going easy on you just because I got mushy earlier,” you said as you racked the balls and he just shook his head and laughed.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.” The game went as it always did, with the two of you hurling insults left and right but with the addition of subtle teasing on your part to throw him off his game. Just as he was lining up the winning shot you rested your hands on the pool table just in front of the eight ball, leaning forward and giving him what he considered to be the best view in the house. His eyes raked over you and even from your spot across the pool table you could see them darken but it only served as motivation instead of a deterrent, “as much as I love you, I’m not throwing the game that easily.” he said as he sank the ball and you groaned.

“I am not going to get used to hearing that,” Coyote said as you perched yourself on the edge of the pool table and pouted as he came to stand between your legs.

“Come on sweetheart, no one likes a sore loser.” he teased and you rolled your eyes, pushing him away. 

“I am not a sore loser,” you protested.

“You are when you’re drunk.” 

“I’m not that either,” you said, narrowing your eyes and he just laughed at you as he brushed your hair behind your ear.

“Oh princess, you are absolutely hammered.” He kissed the tip of your nose and you just smiled dopily at him.

“Okay, maybe I am…” you giggled as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and pulled you into him. You breathed in his cologne as you clung to him and sighed in content as he placed a kiss to the top of your head before you pulled away to look up at him. “Everything is perfect, so very perfect.” you said, turning your gaze to look over your friends, smiling as you saw Rooster and Phoenix over at the dart board, Coyote and Fanboy talking to a pair of girls at the bar, and Bob sitting in a booth keeping a watchful eye over everyone. 

“It really is, isn’t it?” he said, never moving his gaze from you as you lovingly looked at all of your friends.

“You cheeseball,” you said when you turned back to him and he just chuckled.

“Your cheeseball.” he said, cupping your face and pulling you in for a kiss, “I love you, darlin’.”

“I love you, too.”

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