#at least i am down to one burning deadline instead of like five

[chenziee]

Somebody pay me a full salary to just sleep, write fics, play games, play with my cat, vacation, and sleep

[herohikara-wol]

FFXIV Write 2k23 - Day 17 (Late)

Pick Your Own (Rumor Mill) - Modern Day College AU

“I need to move out of the dorms by tomorrow, what am I supposed to do?” Hero’s clothes were half packed and mostly on his bed, but Zenos still found amusement in watching his roommate pace about the room, weaving around their suitcases and boxes as he did. “What do you mean figure it out? Why can’t I just go to Thavnair with you?” Another pause as he clearly listened to his mother’s reply- of course it was his mother. Tetsu wouldn’t have been nearly as blunt about things. Zenos had heard from both of them over the course of the semester. “Did you have to sell my apartment then, the deadline for requesting to stay on campus was last week! Why couldn’t this have waited until next moon?”

Hero only knew that because of Asahi. Zenos resumed packing now that Hero was in the bargaining stages of his fight with his parents’ choices. Asahi had permission to remain in the dorms until next semester due to trouble in his family. The trouble being his parents attempting to force him into an arranged marriage to keep him from dating another man. They couldn’t marry him off if he wasn’t there to sign the contracts, it had worked for his elder sister. She was going on five years of burning any mail she got from their parents and had been the one to advise him to remain away from home as long as possible.

“Yes, okay, I’ll figure it out. Fine. Goodbye.” Hero hung up only to fling himself onto the pile of freshly laundered clothes and poorly folded sheets on his bed. “I’m fucked.”

“You just need a place to stay during winter break, yes?” Zenos looked carefully over at his roommate, weighing the options in his mind.

“Yes, and apparently their current employer doesn’t have space for an extra person. They sold my apartment because they’re planning to put down roots in Thavnair for at least three years and the apartment lease says they can’t sublet it and someone needs to be occupying it at all times to minimize risk of things like pipes freezing and whatnot.” He grabbed his pillow and put it over his face to scream into it for a few moments before throwing it back at the wall. “I’m fucking homeless. Fantastic.”

“My family has room.” That wasn’t exactly a lie, just not the whole truth. The Garlean Royal family palace most certainly could accommodate Hero. Hell, it could accommodate their entire dorm floor without too much trouble. However, in the time Zenos had known Hero he’d been pleasant. Friendly, willing to allow the prince his privacy, and hadn’t asked about his parents, his position as crown prince, or even indicated he cared about any of it. He made Zenos feel normal to be around, the closest thing he’d had to a friend all his life. Friends helped their friends when they were in need, right?

“Shouldn’t you ask your dads first or something? I don’t want to impose and basically take up your family’s guest room without them having some kind of warning. That’d be pretty rude, right? Like, I know you’re rich but still, there’s a limit.” Of course, it helped that Hero regularly forgot he was royalty.

“Would you do the same for me if you had the means?” The viera pouted a little, like he’d been backed into a corner. “Exactly. Hero, I insist. Finish packing, I’m calling my travel agent to get you booked for my flight back to Garlemald tonight.”

“Fine, but only because I can’t afford to stay in a hotel for a whole month.” He grumbled but he couldn’t exactly turn Zenos down.

===============================================

“Announcing crown prince Zenos yae Galvus, and his guest, one Magpie Hikara.” Hero flinched when they announced his childhood name instead of the one he’d chosen for himself as an adult. Technically it was still his legal name, but Hero Shadeseer was his chosen name and it meant far more to him.

Zenos noticed the flinch and frowned at the steward, “Hero Shadeseer. Viera pick their own names upon reaching adulthood, he just hasn’t had the time to fill out the paperwork for it yet.”

“My apologies, my prince. Would you like me to have someone bring the paperwork to him?”

“I haven’t settled on it yet. I’m only twenty-four summers, many viera wait until they’ve finished college and started to get established in their careers to finalize their adult names.” He didn’t want Zenos to spend the whole month speaking for him, even if he appreciated someone advocating for him.

“Very well then, I will at least make sure the preference is noted to avoid the staff making cultural faux pas from here on.” The elezen left, making notes on a clipboard as he walked, leaving Zenos and Hero standing in the hall before the Emperor and his husband.

His ears drooped on instinct as the Emperor’s stern face and gold eyes seemed to look right through him, but his husband gave a warm smile and reached out to take his hand. “We’d heard Zenos made friends in college through the grapevine, but didn’t expect to meet one so soon! How was your flight, the servants took your bags already, yes? Come on, the dining room is this way. I know damn well you two didn’t get a proper meal in and you’re probably both tired from the trip. It’s, what, almost ten at night? A good meal and some sleep will do you both good.”

“Thank you sir? Your highness?” He looked up to Zenos for any indication of what to say or how to act, but Zenos was just boredly walking past him and following Varis to the dining room.

“Regula is fine, I promise. You know, for the son of a pair of high profile bodyguards, you’re rather awkward around royalty.” Hero inhaled sharply and let it out in a soft groan. Of course they already did a background check. Probably did it the moment he and Zenos were assigned to the same room.

“My parents did try to raise me with continuing the family business in mind, but I wasn’t cut out for the level of paranoia that comes with being a proper bodyguard. I was little more than a playmate for hire for some of the children of their clients. It got me a decent education, but I moved so much as a kid I didn’t really latch on to any one specific culture. I spent the longest in Ishgard but it isn’t exactly home either.”

“That’s why we chose you out of all the other potentials, we were hoping you’d give him the normalcy he craved. Zenos could have gone to school here and been treated like a proper prince the whole time, or at least gotten a private room off campus. He chose to live in the dorms like any other student.”

Hero wondered if they knew Zenos and him had spent the first two weeks bickering, fighting, and almost at each other’s throats until they realized they shared several hobbies and interests. Zenos had been a stuck up prick the first few weeks of the semester and Hero liked causing problems on purpose. Eventually he introduced Zenos to one of his old childhood playmates, Asahi, who was also going to school to get the fuck away from his high profile ambassador parents. The two hit it off and things started to fall into a comfortable pattern for the three of them.

“It was an adjustment, but Zenos is a pretty quiet person. I had to prod him into joining a club or two that weren’t sports clubs, but all in all I’ve grown kinda fond of him? He’s a good guy.” When he’s not being stand-offish because he’s run out of social battery, or when he’s not your opponent in anything where he’s suddenly a bloodthirsty competitive asshole. Hero had regrets about introducing Zenos to handheld console gaming, and more regrets about introducing him to fighting games.

“All the same, thank you for helping him. He’ll likely never say it, but that’s probably why he invited you to stay with us.” Hero hadn’t considered that he’d done anything Zenos would want to thank him for. He spent the whole night realizing that the invitation was Zenos feeling grateful for Hero’s friendship and company. The problem was figuring out how to keep it from coloring their current relationship, because the idea of having a friend so thankful for Hero just being himself that he’d go out of his way like this to help him in need was- he didn’t have a word for it.

So he rolled over in his plush comfy two sizes too big for a single person bed with ten times the pillows any normal person would need, and tried to fall asleep. Zenos was royalty here so they couldn’t just walk around the city like they could wander campus, so tomorrow he’d find a way to pull Zenos aside after breakfast and maybe plan something they could do to make the month pass by quicker. If only to keep him from being buried under royal duties and obligations, to give him a taste of normalcy in his own home.

================================================

 It felt strange being woken by a servant, to be guided to the bath and see it drawn and already warm for him. Stranger still to have someone bring him his clothes freshly pressed, to do his hair for him, and guide him down the winding stairs to the dining room for breakfast with the family. He felt out of place before the massive regal Varis and the mildly detached Regula. Varis was reading the paper, every so often glancing up at the Viera before him and frowning. Regula was tapping away at his tomephone, humming softly to himself between asking Varis questions about the day’s plans. It felt cold and awkward and uncomfortable.

 Zenos’ absence didn’t help.

When the prince finally joined them and pulled up his chair, Varis flipped through the paper again, folded it in half, and slid it over the table to his son. “You may want to plan around the paparazzi for the rest of your break. I don’t doubt you’re used to the way news spreads in the Empire, but I doubt your guest is prepared.”

Zenos frowned and looked at the paper before scoffing and sliding it to Hero wordlessly.

In brilliant color were three separate photos. One of Zenos taking off his coat, one of his draping the coat over Hero’s shoulders, and one of Zenos holding open the door of the royal car while Hero got into the back seat. “Fuck.” The headline was about the prince bringing home a girlfriend from college. Fair enough, it was dark out and snowing when they got out of the airport and Hero was notably androgynous. Still, it invoked a primal fear response in him. “We aren’t- I’m not- How do I correct them?”

Regula paused and gave Hero a sympathetic look, “you don’t, sadly. It’s gossip right now, are you two sure you’re not dating? Obviously we wouldn’t judge, Zenos is allowed to see whoever makes him happy.”

Zenos shook his head slightly before reaching for the jam to coat his toast in it. “We are roommates, as I told you. Hero’s helped me out of my comfort zone and dragged me into a few more social situations than I would have gotten into on my own, but we aren’t courting.”

Hero’s eyes darted between Zenos and Regula, then Zenos and Varis, and it didn’t go unnoticed. “Hero?”

Zenos wasn’t fast enough to silence him, “I’d never flirt with him behind Asahi’s back.” He heard Zenos inhale sharply beside him, but continued anyway. “Asahi’s room is attached to ours by the half-bath. They’ve been seeing each other since around midterms. I’m just his roommate I swear.”

“Useless.” Hero knew that tone of suffering in Zenos’ voice, “yes I am courting the son of the Doman Ambassadors. I didn’t think he’d be my type, but he surprised me, and we started out studying together. He helps me with my humanities courses, and I’ve been helping him with calculus. He listens to me in a way I’m not used to, it isn’t about my station with him. If he just wanted upwards mobility he wouldn’t be half as- I suppose- open with me about things.”

Hero hummed a bit, “I promise you, he’s being honest. I’m a bad liar but I’m really good at sniffing out lies. Asahi is head over heels for Zenos and they make such a cute couple. I’d never dream of breaking them up. Twelve fuck me, if he sees this article he’s going to be so upset…”

Varis finally relaxed his shoulders and sighed, “I see. Thank you both for being honest with us, Hero, I’ll make sure I assign someone to help you navigate how to handle the news and media crews that might try to bully things out of you since you clearly have no training for dealing with it. Zenos, if you’d like to give your boyfriend a warning that the rumor mill is spinning around you bringing a friend home from college? I suggest you do it before the news cycle starts spinning things out of control. Don’t worry too much boys, we’ll handle it. Just lay low for a few days until it peters out, alright?”

“Of course, Father. I suppose I’ll take Hero on a tour of the Palace Grounds today then, and we’ll plan to tour the city when you’ve handled the paparazzi.” Zenos’ plate was full of meats, breads and sweets. Compared to Hero’s own plate of mostly fruits, cheeses, and some meat and bread. Breakfast was a rather large affair for the family, or maybe this was just how royalty lived?

Either way he carefully handed the paper back over to Regula so the older man could hand it off to his husband. All he could do now was pray the rest of his trip went smoothly after this small hiccup.

[toorusbaby]

end of the day

summary: after a very bad day, all you really want is for your boyfriend, kei tsukishima, to hold you in his arms. however, things don’t go the way you hoped they would.

warnings: self-angst, a very upset y/n, tsukki makes up for it <3

word count: 4,987

The loud jingling of your keys as you unlocked the door to your shared apartment weren’t enough to push the negative thoughts out of your mind. The sound of chirping crickets in the air weren’t capable of relaxing your nerves either. 

It had been a long day to say the least, more exhausting than others. If you were running on batteries, the last of your juice was used up hours ago. It was safe to say that you were burned out. 

You had left the apartment at seven in the morning, fifteen minutes later than usual because your phone decided to go missing. Since Kei was sound asleep after a long night at the museum, you were on the lookout on your own. In the end, your phone turned out to be on the kitchen counter, the battery half drained. By the time you reached the station, you barely missed the train by a millisecond, having to hail a taxi instead. If one thing went right today, you made it just on time to work. 

On the other hand, with the combination of being reprimanded by your boss for missing an important deadline that slipped your mind, a coworker spilling hot coffee on your new blouse, and your thoughts jumbled due to yet another argument you had over the phone with your traditional mother the night before, it was as if your world had come crashing down in the span of a few hours. 

It was eight in the evening when you finally left the office, arriving at your apartment’s front door thirty minutes later. The fact that you were starving only made you more antsy. All you wanted at that very moment was to be held by your longtime boyfriend, Kei Tsukishima, as you buried your face in his chest. You needed him more than ever. 

Twisting the doorknob, the familiar creak of the wooden door made its way to your ears when you entered your apartment. The living room lights were on, symbolizing that Tsukishima was home. Letting out a sigh of relief, you gently shut the door shut behind you, locking it in the process before your eyes made contact with plastic bags on the coffee table. 

Just as you were going to check what was inside, you stopped in your footsteps when you heard the voice of your favorite blond from the kitchen. 

“Y/N, is that you?” Tsukishima’s head popped out slightly from the kitchen entrance, his honey brown eyes meeting yours. A tired grin immediately made its way to your face at the sight of your boyfriend, who wore his favorite grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt. His hair was a bit damp, probably from his shower. Without missing a beat, you walked your way over to greet him with the usual peck on the lips, holding your arms out for a much needed hug. 

“Kei, I missed you—”

Suddenly, Tsukishima had brought his phone back up to his ear. Your heart dropped at the sight. 

“Is he serious?,” Tsukishima scoffed into the phone. “The exhibition isn’t supposed to open for another five weeks. How are we going to make it work in only two? Fucking ridiculous,”, He grumbled, turning his body away from you momentarily. 

If you thought the coffee that spilled onto your shirt spread fast, the pain in your chest expanded even faster. You understood that you weren’t the only busy person in the relationship; Tsukishima was both an employee at the Sendai museum and a volleyball player for the Sendai Frogs. Compared to him, you felt as if you had no right to complain about being tired. After all, you only had one job, which was working for a well-known design company. And after today’s fiasco, you weren’t sure you even knew how to do your job correctly. 

Kei doesn’t need me bothering him right now, you thought to yourself. He’s busy with work, which is understandable. 

The thought was bittersweet; how could you be so proud of your boyfriend yet feel so lonely? 

 Almost as if he remembered that you were standing before him, the tall volleyball player turned back to face you. Tsukishima pulled the phone away from his ear and placed his palm over the speaker, walking towards you. 

“Sorry about that, Y/N. I should be done soon—” You unintentionally cut your boyfriend off.

“Don’t apologize, Kei,” You spoke with the most enthusiasm you could muster. You hoped it was believable. “I know you’re busy with the upcoming dinosaur exhibition.” 

When you lifted your hands in front of you to wave his apology off, your navy blue blazer had spread open, revealing the brown coffee stain on your white blouse. Tsukishima made brief eye contact with it, immediately frowning to himself; he knew you had been waiting for it to arrive for weeks. 

The exhaustion of the day was catching up with you and you found yourself feeling much more sensitive than usual. Sadness flooded your chest, your heartbeat thudding in your ears. You couldn’t bring yourself to make eye contact with your boyfriend. If you did, you knew you would only end up crying; Tsukishima didn’t need to add you to his list of worries. 

Unbeknownst to you, the blond noticed your stiff posture and the way you refused to meet his gaze. Tsukishima opened his mouth to speak, but you spoke first. 

“I’m so proud of you, baby. Seriously. But if you’ll excuse me,” your voice slightly wavered. “I’m going to take a shower and call it a night. I’ll see you in a bit.” Flashing a small grin at Tsukishima, you made a beeline to your shared bedroom. 

Even if you had tried your absolute best to give him a proper smile, Tsukishima wasn’t stupid. He knew that you were faking it. It only hurt more to know that you were hiding your pain from him. 

༺♥༻

Stripping your clothes off, you mindlessly left them in a pile on the edge of your king sized bed. Taking one last glance at the coffee stain on your shirt, you clenched your jaw in frustration. You weren’t sure you could hold your emotions in any longer. 

Your feet padded across the room and into the bathroom, your hands moving on their own to open the see-through door of your shower, turning the knobs of the shower faucet. Finally, you stepped inside and shut the shower door. 

Although the steamy hot water cascading down your back helped relax you the majority of the time, that wasn’t exactly the case in this situation. Your posture was stiff, your jaw was still clenched, and the crease between your eyebrows only furrowed deeper. 

The only sound should have been the water falling onto the shower floor, tumbling down the drain. If that was the case, why could you hear the voice of your boss in your head?

‘I expected more from you, Y/N. A lot more. You’ve never let me down, not once. What happened this time? Do not miss a deadline as important as this again or there will be consequences. I hope you don’t make me regret promoting you.’ 

The disappointed voice of your respected boss morphed into your mother’s, the tone furious. Memories of her words from the other night played like a record on repeat in your mind.  

‘Do you really think that living with your boyfriend at this age is acceptable? You and Tsukishima are only twenty three. A man and woman should not live together unless they’re married. I don’t think you two will last for long anyways. Your father may have been more accepting about it, but I think you made the wrong choice. You’re lucky I’m hiding this from your grandmother. What do you think she’d have to say, knowing her granddaughter was so easy?’ 

You blinked once. Then you sniffled twice. 

You had finally reached your limit. Every hurtful word from your mother, every head shake from your boss, and even not being able to peck Tsukishima on the lips for a second, the way you usually did when you got home, echoed in your head. Before you knew it, hot tears leaked from your eyes and down your cheeks, small hiccups escaping your mouth. 

What’s wrong with me?, you clamped a hand over your mouth to silence yourself. That didn’t help much. Why am I such a fucking mess?

Wrapping your free arm around your torso as if to hug yourself, your knees buckled in a moment of weakness. Quiet sobs wracked through your body, annoyance filling you up to the brim when you couldn’t silence yourself. You really didn’t want Tsukishima to hear. Despite the heat of the water affecting your senses, you stood still, allowing the water to mix with your hot tears. 

Little did you know, Tsukishima had been standing silently outside your door the moment you had turned the shower on. As soon as he laid eyes on the bunched up clothing on your shared bed, the blond knew you were bottling your emotions. You were always tidy; you never left a mess behind unless you were out of it. You were more similar to Tsukishima than you thought. 

And because you were so similar, your boyfriend knew that you were trying to drown out the sounds of your crying as you stood under the shower head. Even if he hadn’t been able to hear your cries, Tsukishima knew you all too well, only because he was the same way. And he loved you far too much to let this continue. 

Two quiet knocks on the bathroom door startled you, your hands rushing to wipe your face before you blinked. Trying your best to quietly clear your throat, you sniffled once. 

“I-I’m in the shower, Tsukki!”, you called out. “Is everything okay?”

Tsukishima’s silky voice still managed to make your heart skip, even if he was on the other side of the door. 

“Not really,” you heard him say in his usual monotone voice. “Mind if I join you?” 

Your eyes widened and your heartbeat quickened out of nervousness. You did not want him to see your puffy eyes; you were sure you looked horrible. 

“Um, give me a second!” you called out. There was no use in hiding the fact that you were sobbing your eyes out; the reddened skin around them made it very apparent that you were bawling like a baby. The best you could do was rinse your face repeatedly until most of your sniffling went away. 

After a few seconds, you cleared your throat. “Y-You can come in, Kei!” 

When the door opened, revealing your tall boyfriend who placed one of his t-shirts on the counter, you bit the inside of your cheek. However, when he began to strip, you couldn’t help the blush that rose to your cheeks. His toned, fit physique made your heart race and your pulse quicken. Even if you and Tsukishima had been dating for six years, living with each other for two of those, you couldn’t help but still feel a bit shy. 

After all, Kei Tsukishima was your first everything. Your first crush, your first boyfriend, your first kiss. The first person to see your naked body, the person who gave you your first sexual experience, but most importantly, he was also your first love. You knew deep in your heart that the sharp tongued blond would also be your last. 

Silently, you watched as Tsukishima opened the shower door. You stepped to the side, allowing his tall frame to enter the shower which was larger than most apartments would have. When the honey brown orbs you loved so much met your own eyes, you gulped. 

“Kei,” you mumbled with a questioning tone. “Weren’t you busy with work? And didn’t you already take a—” He cut you off with his own questions. 

“I hung up the moment you left the kitchen,” he spoke. ”You’re my priority. What’s going on, Y/N? Why were you crying?” Tsukishima wondered, his tone a bit sharp. Although his tone may have seemed a little harsh to an outsider, you knew that the blond was only worried for you. When he sounded frustrated, it only meant he was concerned. As a result, you only felt worse. 

As Tsukishima reached behind you to lower the excessive heat of the water, you let your eyes wander everywhere but his face. This only made the volleyball player clench his jaw. Even though Tsukishima was known for his patience, he wouldn’t tolerate your avoidance of his question. 

“It’s nothing, baby. Just a bad day, that’s all. I’m okay. Just a little tired— Kei!” you shouted when the warm water suddenly cut off. The cool breeze entering the bathroom from the open window was sure to give you goosebumps. “Kei, stop messing around. Turn the water back on,” you humorlessly chuckled. You really didn’t find it funny.

You reached for the shower knobs, wanting to avoid any confrontation. Your tears were the last thing Tsukishima needed to worry about, especially because he had to focus on preparing for the new exhibition. Your feelings simply weren’t that important. 

As soon as your hand was about to reach the handle, Tsukishima grabbed onto your wrist, gently pushing your back against the shower wall. You let out a loud gasp at the sudden feeling of the cool wall tiles behind you. 

“T-Tsukki, what the hell! It’s cold!” You shouted, your back instinctively arching. Your eyes were wide, finally meeting his golden brown ones. 

About time, the blonde thought. He missed having your eyes on his. 

Suddenly, the boy pinned you against the wall. Tsukishima’s stare was so intense, you instinctively rested your back against the cold tile. His bare body against your own caused your cheeks to redden. When goosebumps formed on your arms, the blond used his free hand to rub them away in order to warm your skin. The action was loving, despite his serious gaze. 

“I’ll turn the water back on when you tell me what’s got you so upset, baby.” Tsukishima calmly spoke, his hand quickly moving to lift your chin up the very second you were about to look down. He knew you well; too well. “What is it that hurt you to the point where you’re hiding your tears from me?” 

When he asked the second question, you noticed that Tsukishima had used a softer tone, one that was gentle yet doting. The feeling of the pad of his thumb gently stroking your chin brought you back to reality. You loved Kei with your entire being. Despite your fear that you would stress him out, you couldn’t lie to him. 

After a moment’s pause, you were ready to open up. Your mouth felt dry, but you forced yourself to speak. “I-I just…” you trailed off. Your eyes wavered on his, your emotions threatening to take over once again. 

Tsukishima could see the glossy screen making its way over your eyes. He knew that you always tried to display your strong side, but he also understood your sensitivity. For you to cry alone, Tsukishima would never allow it. But for you to cry in front of him, in his protective arms, he wanted you to know that everything would be okay. Even if things didn’t seem like they were going to go well, Tsukishima would make sure everything worked out. For you. 

Everything he did, Kei Tsukishima did it for you. 

“Kei, I just…” your voice was uneven. You blinked rapidly. 

Tsukishima’s hand moved its way to cup your cheek in his palm. When he felt you trembling, the blond didn’t hesitate to turn the water back on to its hottest setting. Understanding that you couldn’t meet his gaze at that moment, the volleyball player used his free hand to lay your cheek against his chest. Then, he wrapped his other arm around your waist, pressing your body flush against his. 

You shut your eyes, your heart aching in your chest. Your hands instinctively reached out to hold onto his biceps. You felt like a burden. The moment you felt a kiss on the top of your head, you broke. 

“Kei, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you whispered in a desperate voice. Your vision became cloudy with tears once again. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. Why can’t I do anything right for once?” you whimpered. Your throat began to ache from holding in your cries. 

Tsukishima felt your shoulders trembling in his arms. In response, he held you tighter to his chest, his large hand reassuringly grazing up and down your bare back. A quiet sigh of relief left his lips when your body relaxed from his touch.  

“First, it was an argument with my mom. You know how she’s always been about us living together,” you mumbled. Your shoulders relaxed when you felt the low vibrations of your boyfriend’s chuckle in his chest. 

“Trust me,” the blond mused. “I know.” The memory of your mother throwing a temper tantrum the day you and him officially moved into your shared apartment was burned into his memory. 

Even though tears were dripping down your chin and your sniffling had returned, a small smile made its way to your face. Tsukishima didn’t have to use his words to make you feel understood. 

You cleared your throat, the smile slowly fading. “And then it was my boss. I-I understand why he was upset. I mean, it was my fault for forgetting about the deadline. But I just…” your grip on his biceps tightened and you sighed. “I hate knowing that I’ve let people down. I really don’t mean to.” Your voice cracked. 

Momentarily, your boyfriend pulled your face away from his chest. The sounds of your whimpering made his chest ache. Using the pads of his thumbs, he wordlessly wiped from under your eyes and gave you a sweet kiss on the forehead. Your eyes responded by welling up with a new batch of tears. 

“Kei,” you breathed out. “Kei, you’re gonna make me cry even more.” You whined and felt your bottom lip tremble. With his large palms now cupping your face, Tsukishima only smiled softly down at you. 

“So cry then. Let it all out, Y/N.” As soon as Tsukishima’s words registered in your head, golden brown eyes watched as tears leaked from your eyes that he loved so much. His thumbs held your head in place gently, his lips moving on their own to kiss both of your tear streaked cheeks, ignoring the salty taste on his lips. In that moment, Tsukishima only cared about making you feel better.

“It’s okay to cry. And it’s okay to have bad days. But it’s not okay to keep all of these emotions to yourself. Why do you think you have me, you dummy?,” the blond gently chided, his lips pursed together when you grinned. After a pause, he continued. 

“I know that I’ve been really busy with work and I’m sorry.”

“Tsukki, you don’t have to apologize—”

The pointed stare your boyfriend gave you halted your words. When you fell silent, Tsukishima gently grazed his knuckles on your cheek. His eyes never left yours. 

“But nothing is more important to me than you. Work can wait, you come first. You always will.” Tsukishima’s hands reached behind you to grab your strawberry scented shampoo. The two of you fell silent for a second, the only sound being your sniffling and the water tumbling down the drain. When your boyfriend poured some shampoo onto his palm, his fingers working to lather the substance into your hair, you swore your heart was going to burst. It was only the sound of Tsukishima clicking his tongue that brought you back to reality. 

“I know you well enough to know that you’ve been calling yourself a burden or some shit like that, so stop it.” Tsukishima watched as your cheeks reddened from the truth of his words. He let out a small sigh, amused at the fact that he was correct, but upset that you viewed yourself as one. The idea of you putting yourself down over inevitable events didn’t sit right with him. 

The feeling of his fingers lathered in shampoo against your scalp released the tension in your body, the scent of strawberry filling your nostrils and the silky sound of his voice filling up a void within you that had been empty just before. It was as if Tsukishima was picking up your broken pieces, placing them back together again. 

“But trust me. You’re far from being a burden. If anything...” the blond trailed off, gesturing for you to rinse the shampoo out of your hair. Leaning your head back, you let the water wash the shampoo off. Tsukishima already had conditioner in his palm, ready to loosen the tangles in your hair. 

“If anything,” he continued. “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.” Tsukishima admitted. The blond could feel heat rise to his cheeks, but he didn’t care. His long, calloused fingers worked their magic on the tips of your hair first. 

“My favorite part of the day is waking up by your side in the morning.” Untangling your hair, then rinsing. “Every time you kiss me, I fall in love all over again like an idiot.” A peck on your forehead. “I love teasing the hell out of you, only because I know you secretly like it.” A smirk and a gentle spank on your butt. You pouted playfully. 

“But holding you as we fall asleep,” Tsukishima breathed out, his forehead against yours. “The feeling of having you in my arms every single night?” His voice was a drug and you couldn’t get enough.

Your attention was only on Tsukishima. You didn’t even feel that the water was slowly growing colder. You wouldn’t care even if you noticed. You had the love of your life keeping you warm and that’s all that mattered. 

“Knowing that you need me, just as much as I need you… You’re the only person I’d go soft for, but you’re also the best thing I could ever ask for, baby. Not even close to a burden.” You felt Tsukishima’s hand intertwine with yours, fingers locked together. 

“I love you so much, Y/N. This will never change.”

You’ve heard Tsukishima tell you that he loved you hundreds of times. The love confessions often paired with either his famous smug smile, the sad eyes Tsukishima only showed to you after a rough day, or the tired tone in bed after a heated argument, after the two of you would apologize; both of you never went to bed angry. 

Hearing Kei Tsukishima, the man with a sharp tongue who was known to conceal his true feelings, remind you of how much you meant to him and feeling him hold you so closely, your body moved before you could think. 

Grabbing hold of his neck from behind with your free hand, you pulled the blond into a deep kiss. Tsukishima didn’t hesitate to reciprocate, his hands running through your wet, now silky hair as he pulled you closer by the waist. You tilted your head to the side, feeling his nose  brush against yours as he deepened the kiss. 

You were on cloud nine. 

It was a long moment later when you pulled away, out of breath and cheeks ablaze. You quickly used your thumb to wipe away the small string of saliva on your bottom lip, embarrassed at how forward you had behaved. Tsukishima only had a smug smirk on his now swollen lips, his tongue poking out to lick at the corner of his mouth. He chuckled when you wordlessly buried your face in his chest. The blond immediately wrapped his arms around your smaller frame, resting his chin on top of your head. 

“I’d rather have you give me a sloppy kiss like that than see you crying, moron. Thank god you’re cute though, even if your eyes are puffy.” 

You groaned into his chest, spanking his butt out of spite. His sudden jolt made you smirk. 

“I love you Kei, but please shut up.”

“Mm, I don’t really feel like it.”

༺♥༻

What once was steamy hot water had soon turned cold by the time you and Tsukishima left the shower. Freshly clean and your tears completely washed away by the water and your boyfriend’s sweet kisses, you were now dry, wearing the blond’s large olive green t-shirt and a pair of black panties.

Tsukishima had gone to the living room to make sure the doors and windows were locked, telling you to get comfortable in bed. Only in his grey sweatpants, the blond didn’t feel like wearing his shirt. You definitely didn’t mind. 

On the edge of your bed, your pile of clothing from earlier was placed in a laundry basket, only to be replaced by the plastic bags you had seen on the coffee table the moment you entered your apartment. A very familiar scent was coming from whatever was inside and your stomach growled in anticipation.

No way, you wondered with wide eyes. Did he…?  

“Did you really think I’d let you go to bed hungry?” 

Your head swiveled back to face your favorite blond. There Tsukishima stood with plates in one hand, water bottles gathered in his other arm. Your excitement must have been evident on your face because your boyfriend gave you an authentic, loving smile, all signs of smugness gone. 

“Baby,” your fingers happily toyed with the plastic bag’s tied handle. “Did you get curry buns?”

Tsukishima made his way over to you, settling the plates down on the bed. Then, he lifted his hand to gently flick your forehead. “Why don’t you open the boxes and see for yourself, hm?”

༺♥༻

The humming sound of the fan in front of your bed blowing cool air into the room filled the air. Very faintly, you could still hear the crickets chirping outside when you lifted your head. Glancing at the nightstand, the clock beside Tsukishima’s glasses read that it was a bit past ten thirty. 

With a stomach full of curry buns along with other side dishes your boyfriend so lovingly spoiled you with, you sighed contentedly. In a sleepy daze, you laid your head onto Tsukishima’s warm, bare chest and closed your eyes. Listening to the sound of his heartbeat was one of your favorite things to do when the two of you cuddled; you found it endearing and intimate. Although he’d never admit it, Tsukishima felt the same way.

A protective arm wrapped its way around your waist, Tsukishima’s long legs tangled with your own. His free hand played with the ends of your hair, twirling it repeatedly with his fingers. You began to feel even sleepier, the food coma making an entrance. You slowly blinked, then turned your head to look up at your boyfriend who had a ghost of a smile on his lips. 

“You know I love you, right Kei?”

“If you didn’t, I wouldn’t have bought you curry buns, Y/N.”

Before you could give a sassy response, Tsukishima tilted your head to face him. Then, he gently pecked your lips twice. 

“To make up for earlier. I’m sorry I missed it when you came home. Never again,” he mumbled, using his hand to move strands of hair away from your face. 

You giggled quietly, your face tickled by his blonde hair that loomed over you. You loved it when he was physically affectionate. “Thank you for loving me, Kei,” you whispered. Your eyes were fixated on his, his pupils dilated in the room’s soft yellow lighting. “I love you. So damn much.”

With a kiss to his nose, you readjusted yourself so you could snuggle into Tsukishima’s chest. The volleyball player leaned over to turn the night lamp off before placing the blanket over the two of you, the scent of your strawberry shampoo creating butterflies in his stomach. When he looked down at you for the last time that night, you were already sound asleep with your arm securely wrapped around his torso. 

Sure, the majority of your day consisted of mostly negatives. And yes, you had to say goodbye to your new blouse. Coffee stains on white were a done deal. But it wasn’t as if you couldn’t order a new one. Your boss would eventually get over your flaw at work; you’d compensate somehow and get back on track. And when was your mother not upset with you? It was hard, but it was worth it if that meant living with Tsukishima. Your mom would eventually come to terms with the fact that you were twenty three, almost twenty four. You were an adult after all; days like this were normal.

But at the end of the day, Tsukishima was always going to be there for you. Despite the difficulties you faced and the many downfalls that were yet to come, you knew that Kei was going to be there to hold you when you fell asleep. You’d do the same for him if it was the last thing you ever did. 

Your faint breathing and the whirring fan were the only audible sounds in the room. With his golden brown eyes threatening to flutter shut, Kei Tsukishima gave one last glance at his cabinet across the room. Inside the third drawer underneath his volleyball practice clothes, sat a black velvet box with a diamond ring waiting to be worn on your left ring finger. 

A smile formed on the blond’s lips when he leaned over to kiss the top of your sleeping head one last time before dozing off. He truly couldn’t wait to ask you to marry him when the time was just right. But for now, it was already the end of the day. Regardless, Kei Tsukishima was excited to share a new beginning with you.

[tundrainafrica]

Title: Lovebug (8/12)

Summary:  

“It might be a bug.”

“A bug?”

“Sometimes the developers of this application make mistakes. This is our first time meeting I’m sure so…Isn’t it a bit weird that we just met for the first time and it rings like this? And for two strangers to coincidentally ring each other’s alarms?“

Levi is the developer of the Love Alarm App and Hange is married to Zeke.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Notes: Feedback is very much appreciated :D

Levi put a hard deadline for Wednesday

“Wednesday” he said it again because he couldn’t be too certain how he said it the first time. He was conscious if he were too stiff, it might almost seem awkward. If he were too relaxed, maybe the urgency wouldn’t get across.

The challenge was finding the balance and when his team nodded, their faces unchanging, he realized it had been an easy task. They had gone through that same pattern before, especially before a large-scale quality assurance test, a recalibration of the application.

And the one on Monday was much larger, covering not just fifty volunteers, maybe even hundreds. When it was Zeke’s own connections that had managed to get that many volunteers, they couldn’t afford to delay it.

Levi cleared his throat and continued. “All fixes should be completed by Wednesday. All QA and regression tests by Friday,” Levi added. “The large scale QA test will be happening on Monday. No negotiations. No chances of rescheduling. ”

Aside from the number of volunteers, that QA test should not be anything different. Nothing much changed except perhaps the fact that Levi was in a constant state of compartmentalizing. He was working partly with outsourced labor to complete the code and to make sure someone was testing their new application. He was also working with his own team to make sure they were still addressing issues and realising fixes for the love alarm.

He liked the busy-ness, the need to be constantly thinking about work. Sometimes though, there were more distracting prospects that forced their way into his limited brainspace. And for some reason, his brain space was so willing to accommodate it.

More specifically, to accommodate her. Well, he had no choice anyway. After all, it was her application. It was his brain child but by extension, it was her and Zeke’s property.

He was constantly in a state of stress and Hange’s presence only made things more stressful. But somehow, his brain demanded he forced that extra piece of information, that piece of responsibility, that piece of Hange somewhere in his brain.

Just like he couldn’t say no to Zeke and Hange, he couldn’t say no to the manifestations of his own mind.

She never gave him a chance to say no. After all, she liked working in his office. She had made herself at home on the desk next to him and everyday he was reminded of that extra compartment his brain had created just for him.

All he had to do was enter the room and enjoy the view of her hunched over her laptop like she always was.

First thing in the morning, she was there. After meetings and standups with his team, he would go back to his office like always, and she was there.

That time, all test devices were lined on the desk, the whiteboard that only that morning had been covered with scribbles was replaced with something a little more coherent.

“You’re testing?” Levi sat next to her, counting ten devices before deciding it would be a waste of time to count further. He looked back up at her.

Hange nodded. “You updated the build last Friday right?”

“Just some fixes,” Levi said. The fixes came slowly, with more data being added, with the algorithm being tested here and there. It was still far from perfect though. He scanned the whiteboard just to get an inkling of her own progress. “How many pseudo emails do you have?” He could have counted it himself but once again, he gave up after ten.

“Enough to test on this many devices,” Hange said.

He read them out loud, taking note of the checkmarks..

Wingsoffreedom123

Wingsoffreedom213

Wingsoffreedom231

Wingsoffreedom321

Wingsoffreedom312

Wingsoffreedom132

“Creative,” Levi commented.

“Look, I just need a bunch of emails that are easy to remember so might as well stick to the same combination,” Hange said. “ You get it, Humanity’s strongest?”

Levi cringed inwardly. He should really go around changing that name. “Do you actually use those emails?” He asked.

“Sometimes, when applying for free trials, when making more than one account in websites.” Hange said. “I like keeping my own consumption patterns not connected to ‘Hange Zoe,’ if you know what I mean.”

“At least you’re able to make use of those emails for testing.” Levi pulled his chair a little closer to her and looked over her shoulder. “Is it working better?”

“It rings,” Hange said. “The last five times I tested, they said I was happy.” She chose that moment to click ‘activate’ on the next alarm. As expected, it rang again, the words ‘happy” flashed in the middle of the screen with an ugly smiley face in Arial font right under it.

It was a blatantly horrible sign that maybe they had spent a little too much time on the back end. Front end and user interface could be fixed a little later anyway, Levi reminded himself. He brought out his own test device and pressed the activate button.

The word ‘happy’ flashed across the screen. “Looks like they fixed a lot of the kinks,” Levi said.

“Are you happy?” Hange asked.

Those types of questions were the ones that had him a little more self aware. He didn’t answer immediately, instead, he left his natural instincts speak for themselves. A smile threatened to creep up his lips overwhelming the small part of him that wanted to push it down into something more subtle.

“Levi, are you happy?” Hange pressed, a hint of a laugh in her voice.

He was. He couldn't tell exactly why. Overall, it had seemed much easier, to just let the smile climb up his face so he gave it facility, freedom to move.

And soon, he didn’t regret it. Maybe because his own smile had been the reason Hange’s eyes got bigger before her features softened into something comfortable within a few seconds.

Before Levi could appreciate them a little more, her eyes suddenly narrowed, as if studying him. He noted all of it in her expression, the triumph, the victory lap in her expression, and the sneer particularly evident in her eyes.

He didn’t want her to win that little game they had for themselves. So he turned back, allowing time for the smile to fall into something less embarrassing. “Well, if the application says I’m happy, maybe I am.” He stood up again, holding his laptop to his side. “I’m going out for a break.”

***

Summer was ending soon.

And for Levi, the end was usually accompanied by the relief that he wouldn’t have to brave public transportation under the sweltering heat while dealing with an office dress code.

Strangely, he also found himself a little melancholic as he noted that red leaves were starting to sprout more frequently among the branches. He considered it almost an obligation to take a walk twice or thrice a week, especially during those last few weeks.

He would sit on one of the benches by the garden. To save time, he would bring his laptop every single time and he would always allow himself short in-betweens to enjoy his surroundings after long minutes of staring at the screen.

Like always, the trees were above him and the flowers were in front of him. When he looked down, he even enjoyed the grass and the cobblestone lined paths.

“You take the same route every time.”

Levi looked up, an instinctive reaction to that very familiar, almost intimate voice. “You followed me?”

“What if I wanted to take a walk too?” Hange asked.

“You're welcome to take a walk. I’m just gonna do some work here before going back inside,” Levi said. He looked back at the screen in front of him, trying to find something to make progress with as he monitored the workflow tracker.

Nothing much had changed or was expected to change, his own staff was probably on lunch break. He trusted them enough to be certain they would get most of their work done by Wednesday. And consequently, he was left with nothing much else to do but maybe take a lunch break too.

Hange sat right next to him on the bench and Levi pulled away, far enough to put a good few inches between them. “You’re going out more often now,” Hange said.

“I noticed I’ve been spending too much time indoors. I never really got to enjoy summer for what it was. We only get it three months a year.��

Hange gave him a knowing look. “And you only noticed it now? After living in this city your whole life?” She asked. “You’ve lived here your whole life right?”

“Yeah,” Levi said.

Hange shrugged. “You just never struck me as the type to enjoy weather, or nature in general. Back in the golf course, back in the ocean, you didn’t look like you wanted to be there,” she noted.

“Maybe it’s a recent thing,” Levi said. He kept it vague, not wanting to probe any complex topics when he was grappling with more important complex things.

Hange though, was a black hole of knowledge, a bundle overflowing with curiosity. “What makes it pretty? Why do you like taking walks?”

“Do we have to have a reason?”

“Well ever since I started to work closely with you, I started to notice something too,” Hange said. “You seem happier.”

“Maybe because Zeke is always busy.”

Hange snorted. “You really hate him don’t you?” She leaned a little closer. “And aren’t you at all nervous admitting it to me?” An overly playful demeanor accompanied such intimidating words. It was more laughable than terrifying.

Levi shook his head, unfazed. “I trust you wouldn’t tell him.”

“I wouldn’t,” she admitted. “I don’t blame you though.” She only had to give him an almost pitied look for him to read her mind.

He articulated it for her. “I never really recovered from those two all-nighters cramming an application.” That had been more than three months ago but the memory still burned as a faint memory of excruciating exhaustion and an unpleasant caffeine buzz that took weeks to brush off.

“You managed to impress the hospital admin at least. And we got the funds,” Hange said.

Does that make Zeke any more of an insufferable person? He had hoped to ask that with the face he gave Hange then, one eyebrow raised. If it didn’t send the message, he could easily say it out loud. That one pleasantry Zeke afforded him though that day in front of the convenience store echoed in his head. Even just coming up with an insult sent a wave of guilt through him.

A wave of guilt I don’t need to feel. Levi reminded himself, willing to recall the other instances the blond had been abrasive. Zeke was either a master manipulator or misunderstood. He was a billionaire though, so Levi decided to err on the side of ‘manipulator.’

“The funds go to the company, to the outsourcing activities and to server space,” Levi corrected.

“Don’t you have company shares?” Hange asked.

“A stock option,” Levi clarified. “Something I chose not to take. I’d rather get my money as is. I don’t trust myself to grow something of that much value.” He kept his answers vague, since he never did read the contract closely anyway, it was Erwin who went through the benefits with him.

“Well everyone else in the company who runs on stock options seems to trust you. Zeke’s own investment is riding on your own ability to make a good product...” My PhD dreams are riding on your product. Hange didn’t say that last part out loud but Levi heard it loud and clear.

“Well this pseudo love alarm project, it’s still far from perfect.” For emphasis, he opened up the new project entitled ‘emotion alarm project’ on his dashboard and slipped the laptop screen over to Hange. “Thirty percent done. We barely fixed the interface, just getting the required testing and data done is taking up a lot of resources.”

“I know that and I expected it,” Hange said. “You know, a PhD sometimes takes decades to complete and I’m ready to take that much time.”

“I just wanna manage your expectations. Besides, something about the testing still bothers me.”

“What about it?”

“Remember the first night I made the application?” He stifled a wince at the painful memory. “It didn’t ring… until you came in.”

“Maybe it was a bug?” Hange suggested. “It shouldn’t be too much of an issue right? Since you made a lot of improvements after.”

“I did,” Levi said.

“And it never happened again with the later builds.”

“It doesn’t but it works too much like the love alarm. Do you notice, it always rings when we’re nearby?”

“When we’ve already loaded millions worth of data points. When we’ve overseen that much testing with other people. I don’t think you have to think too hard about it. We just keep improving the application right? Same as the love alarm,” Hange explained.

“Maybe I’m just being cynical. It doesn’t work once and I can never trust it again,” Levi muttered as he scrolled through the tasks for the next release for the upteenth time since a while ago.

“I guess that’s what happens when you’re the one who came up with the project. You can never trust your own abilities to develop?"

"Or because I worked on it, at three in the morning, I tested it. I know how many shortcuts I took with it…" Levi trailed off as he started to focus a little more on the numbers, the titles on the task trackers.

"You know they did the research, the testing, if it works for them, if they have a good success rate, then maybe it works for us too? Maybe the app is right, we're happy when we’re next to each other. Sometimes we’re sad when we’re next to each other and sometimes we're angry. If this application is detecting moods like this… similarly to the love alarm, maybe it means we could--- "

"Get along?" Levi finished it for her. There were only so many things that code could mean anyway.

"Get along.... Or to get to know each other more." Hange said, her voice softer than a second ago. The smile took longer to leave her lips.

Hange though had always been good at composing herself but Levi had months to figure out patterns and trends in the way she navigated the more sensitive topics. He couldn't help but notice the heavy tension, even under the light summer breeze.

Those moments happened too often that Levi had prepared an escape route every time. Business talk. And they had a lot to talk about. "Hange, I wanna ask something about the front end," Levi scrolled back up, towards the top of the task trackers. Dealing with front end was a mammoth task, rifed with two many sub tasks but it was definitely one of the last priorities, if it was even a priority. Levi wasn’t the type to particularly mind releasing an application with a white background and an interface that used the very underwhelming Arial font.

But it was Hange and Zeke’s application.

"Ask away," Hange said.

It came easily after that. The ticket on his workflow tracker had an inkling of a script to follow. "What colors would you associate with emotions?" He asked.

"What?" Hange furrowed her brows.

Levi cleared his throat. Nevermind, it wasn't easy to come up with the question without a little more expounding. "Like would you say red is anger? Blue is sadness? Yellow is happiness?"

"Wait? Why?" Hange asked again. Her lips were curled up just a little higher.

"I'm thinking of the front end of the application. What colors do you see for each emotion?"

"Yellow for happiness," Hange answered easily.

"Not orange?" Levi challenged. He had opened up the task and started to take notes.

"Orange is way too angry for me."

"Red seems much angrier," Levi said

"Red is anger definitely but I'm not seeing bright red, I'm seeing something like orange."

Levi opened up a color wheel. " So this red?" Levi asked.

"No, bright reddish orange," Hange corrected. It may have been a coincidence or just a trick of convenience but a red leaf had fallen on her lap at that moment. Hange picked it up, and twirled it and held it in front of Levi like a token.

“So... autumn red?” Levi asked.

Hange dropped the leaf on his lap. “I guess.” She raised her eyebrow. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

Was he giving her a strange look? His mind sometimes formed opinions as he spoke and Hange had always been receptive anyway so he verbalized it, just for her. “When I’m angry, I see red,” Levi admitted.

“I haven't felt really angry in a while, so I wouldn’t know,” Hange said. “Maybe it changed.”

“Sadness?” Levi asked.

Hange turned to him questioningly. “Tell me yours first.”

“Grey,” Levi said automatically.

“Blue,” Hange said, as if it were the truest fact in the world.

A fact Levi was compelled to question. “Why blue?”

“Why not blue?”

“Blue doesn’t seem sad….”

“Why not?” Hange pressed.

“It seems…” Levi started, only realizing seconds later, he was unable to come up with the right words.

“Too nice?” Hange suggested.

“It’s a nice color. It makes me feel good just looking at it.” It was a pathetic response. With such a complex thought, to even force out of his mouth, he had to channel his inner child, through the most child-like attempts at articulation.

“Okay, I know it doesn’t feel good to be sad but.. don’t you think sadness is a beautiful feeling?” Hange asked.

“No.” It should have been a natural answer. Somehow, Levi felt like there was something else worth listening to.

Hange saw reason to continue at least. “You wouldn’t be feeling sad, if you never felt happy in the first place, if you’ve never felt desire or love. There are feelings much worse than being sad for sure.”

“Like what?”

“Not feeling at all maybe?” Hange surmised. “So maybe the strongest feelings, whether good or bad, are still nice… maybe something worth indulging.”

And it was turning into a philosophy lesson. How many hours had he wasted listening to Hange prattle on about emotions and concepts of love? They weren’t hours wasted for sure, but they did leave him feeling just a little sad at times. Once again, he went back to business talk. Levi looked back at his workflow tracker. “So ‘blue sad, yellow happy, red angry…”

“Do you really think sadness is grey?” Hange asked.

Levi looked up from his laptop and straight towards Hange. "Look, I don't think much about what color my emotions are…” He trailed off. He could have said more maybe. Speaking while reflecting turned out to be a daunting task at that moment.

Maybe sadness was grey. That had seemed like the most natural conclusion at first. He focused for a little longer on the view in front of him, the view of Hange and behind her the open grounds that made way for blue sky and the blue burned into his eyes, enough to make him feel something in his chest then down to his stomach. Before he knew it, he started to entertain Hange’s own idea.

When Hange looked back at him, the open sky behind her, he felt stinging at the back of his eyes, he let his face fall.

The color overall had been burning at first. The more he stared, the more he noticed its more lasting qualities. It turned out blue wasn’t burning, it was subdued, mild. At the same time, the clear endless shade of blue in the sky behind her did wonders to accentuate her features. Enough of a reminder to leave another twinge in his chest, that time it was slightly painful.

A twinge of sadness. Emotions may be difficult to comprehend but whatever clarity that washed over him then had been enough of a motivator to speak up. “I think you’re right, sadness is blue,” he said. A beautiful blue.

He found himself searching for the prettiest shades on the color wheel, looking back up at the sky, then to the yellow streaks from the sun that hit the pavement. He then turned his head towards the garden where red roses grew. From a distance, from above, they were supposed to form a heart.

“Yeah, red and yellow too. Red hurts, it’s glaring, Sometimes yellow is too bright but all together, they make the garden beautiful. Like this courtyard,” Hange said. She stretched her legs out onto the stony path just in front of the bench and shifted her weight to the palms of her hands.

“Yeah, it is.” Levi nodded.

“It’s colorful,” Hange said. “Bright reds, bright greens, bright blues, bright yellows. They’ll all only be here together until the end of summer.” She wrapped her arms around herself, a wistful smile on her face.

“You like summer?” Levi asked. “It’s fucking hot.”

“I like summer and spring. What can I say? I like seasons with a lot more variety of color,” she answered. “ I always get a little sad when summer ends. Surprisingly though, I’m sadder than usual about this summer ending.”

“Why?”

Hange shrugged. “I can’t even explain it for myself. It’s ridiculous that I’m this sad about summer ending. I usually get like this when I’m out of the city but I haven’t even been out in the countryside in a while but somehow, I’m already imaging the larger, wider landscapes up north. I’m imagining how quickly the trees go bald… Green then red then blue. And how quickly skies turn from blue to just a constant gray and when the lakes just freeze over, turning from blue to a more of black… It’s sad to imagine.”

“I can imagine it,” Levi said. He didn’t leave the city often since there wasn’t much spare funds to work with. He was capable of empathizing though, after all the twinge of sadness remained and it had been surprisingly easy to channel it elsewhere.

“There are places up north that have the most beautiful springs and summers but when the leaves change… everything dies much more quickly.” Hange lowered her head.

“Maybe one day, I’ll check it out,” Levi said. He found himself picturing the logistics of a trip already. Having never used his leaves, having built up disposable income through a lack of drive to even form a life outside work, he realized he did have leeway to indulge just a bit. Somehow, Hange’s own thoughts were enough to inspire.

“You haven’t been up north?” Hange gaped.

“I didn’t have much money growing up and there’s no reason to.”

“I should take you up north. You know, the gardens up there, the rolling hillsides. They remind me of Pemberley,” Hange said.

“Pemberley?”

“Pemberley! Mister Darcy’s estate.”

Levi groaned inward. That book again.

“Elizabeth visited towards the end of the book and there are a bunch of old houses around there and when I would walk on the fields, I like to pretend I’m in the book.”

“Relive your rags to riches fantasy?” Levi asked bitterly.

Hange pouted. “It’s not just that. Besides, I wasn’t poor, you know. My parents managed to pay tuition to a good college with no debt.”

Not as rich as Zeke definitely. The banter might just get out of control so Levi went with a conservative digression. “Maybe I’ll go there one weekend, up north before summer really ends.”

“Maybe, I’ll take you there myself,” She said, an excited grin on her face. “Maybe after this weekend or next year if we’re too late. I told Zeke about how I was feeling lately, so for my birthday, he promised he’ll take me up north so we’re going this weekend.”

Levi choked. “Wait, birthday? When’s your birthday?” It turned out to be a burning question, a small fact Levi felt obligated to know. So the answer couldn’t have come any slower.

When Hange opened her mouth ready to speak, the universe decided for them that it definitely could come a little later. His phone rang, breaking that brief silence, prolonging the painful anticipation.

Petra Ral. For some reason, he expected the worst when any of his subordinates called. He answered the phone. “Petra, is everything okay?”

“Sorry about calling. I tried texting you but you weren’t replying.” Petra went straight to the point soon after that. “Some of the members of the other project offered to help out with testing. Do we have enough phones?”

They did have enough test devices, the pile on Hange’s desk was enough proof of that. “Yes we do,” Levi said. They were all in his office. He turned to Hange questioningly. It was her blank face that reminded him, they’d have to look through the phones themselves to see what devices they could wipe.

“I’ll meet you by the office,” Levi said. “Hange and I are going back now.”

He hung up the phone and turned to Hange. “Petra is gonna borrow some of the test devices. You’re okay with that?”

“Sure, I’ll help you wipe them,” Hange said. “Are we going back now?” She seemed hesitant, a closer look and Levi could see a hint of disappointment.

He closed his laptop. “We have to get back to work right?”

“You never even stopped working,” Hange accused.

“I stopped long enough to listen to you ramble on about that damned book and your nice vacations.”

Hange walked on, seeming deep in thought. “Hey Levi… What do you think of Petra?” It was an abrupt digression.

“What about Petra?”

“Have you ever considered dating her?”

Levi stifled a choke, letting it out as a peaceful clearing of the throat. “Why are you asking that?”

Hange shrugged, as she walked ahead. . “Nothing, she seems like a nice person and she seems to like you… Besides, she rings your alarm.” She looked back at him, a playful grin on her face.

Levi sighed. That wasn’t a question he would have liked to broach.

“Well?” Hange pressed.

But maybe he could give some vague answer in exchange for some information. “I’ll tell you. If you tell me something."

"Tell you what?"

"What are your plans for your birthday?”

***

Levi was tricked, treated, bamboozled. Hange had a way with words, a way of just pushing the right buttons. It could have been that or it could have been a series of convenient circumstances and conversation topics that had Levi there, at the front of the mall after work with Petra right next to him.

On the bright side, he had Hange’s birthdate, her plans for that Friday all the way until the weekend. That was enough to satisfy his own curiosity. Over time though he realized, that was all it did.

Was it worth it?

Back when he and Hange had been discussing it, it seemed like a good exchange, she satisfied his curiosity, he satisfied hers. Hange had given her due information. In exchange, she received information on Petra, the long QAs, her alarm ringing, the amount of effort Petra put into her job and just the occasional present that made their way to his desk.

While Hange’s own information went so far as to give the name of the restaurant, the time and the route of their roadtrip, Levi’s own information evolved into something else. Before he even knew it, Hange had created a new agenda of her own.

Your love alarm would ring with Petra right?

It did. Of course, in front of the mall, surrounded by other people wasn’t the best place to test it. There was no reason to either. Ever since Petra joined them more than a year back, the love alarm had always rang and Petra had enough professionalism, enough of a handle on her own feelings to mark it as ‘accurate.’

Admirable? Definitely. Date worthy? Did he ever consider dating her long enough to deem her date worthy? ‘Maybe not’ to both questions.

Have you ever considered dating Petra?  Hange brought up that question during their conversation and Levi felt almost guilty for the straight up ‘no,’ and the shallow ‘she’s too young for my taste’ reason.

She could have been too young. Still, Hange seemed more like a counselor for that exchange and she made some good points.

Assuming the love alarm didn’t have a bug, and the reading was accurate… Hange first set her premise.

The premise could have been accurate. No, it definitely was. Petra’s own approach towards him only served to extinguish any doubts.

Levi and Petra settled for an early dinner at some restaurant towards the end of the mall. Not for the food, nor for the pricing but for the convenience of being able to sit down after the twenty minute walk and a long day up on their feet back in the office.

And Petra had been excited to sit down in front of him. She rushed ahead and slipped into the booth, even before Levi had slipped himself into the small gap between table and chair. He allowed himself enough focus to scan through the menu and digest the names of the dishes at least. He hadn't bothered to even spare a good look at the board outside nor what the hell the other customers were eating and thus, he was excruciatingly slow.

On top of that, he was exhausted from a day of work and most days, he wouldn’t have bothered to go on a date, not with a colleague at that.

It’s not a date. Levi reminded himself. He shouldn’t be dating subordinates. That was another source of stress at that moment.

A few times Levi looked up at the menu, making some ingenious excuse about how he couldn’t decide and how he needed some blank space to help clear his mind before he tried to decide again. Every single time he looked up, he had to internally make an excuse because Petra was staring right at him.

“Have you decided what you want to get?” Petra asked, her voice was a song. She propped her elbows on the table, a rude gesture in most places. She managed to subdue rudeness by propping her chin on top, a look of seemingly genuine interest in her face.

Seemingly. Who the hell was he kidding, she probably was genuine about it. If it wasn’t his own instinct that could be relied on, he could at least trust the love alarm that had rung with no fail since she joined the company in the first place.

“I’ll get the fried chicken meal.” Levi didn’t particularly like fried chicken. He had been a little too self conscious of how long he had stared at her and back at the menu, how long the awkward silence between them lasted and he soon realized, he had to order quickly, even if he didn’t know yet what else he was missing.

“You wanna get tea? We could share a pot,” Petra suggested as she put down her own menu.

Levi could have finished a pot on his own. He wasn’t telling her that though, especially not right after too many close encounters with what could have been inappropriate. “Sure.” Levi nodded a little faster, hoping that was enough to feign excitement.

The waiter came and went with the menus on hand and Petra started to ask questions, questions that were invasive enough that Levi had a hard time thinking two things at once.

They weren’t too personal. In fact, they weren’t about him anyway. Levi started to figure that for himself when he got his bearings. “What about Hange?” Levi asked. He was stalling, finding ways to untangle his hairball of thoughts.

“You were asking me right? About any advice on what to give Hange for her birthday?” Petra asked.

“Yes, I did.” Why did he forget?

Assuming the love alarm didn’t have a bug, and the reading was accurate, that means this ‘love’ between me and Zeke is one sided.

“Well, we could check out a few shops nearby. You could buy her something that could help her with organization. Diaries, bookmarks, pencil cases, wallets…” The list went on and the contents had started to become unbearably boring. Really, would Hange have enjoyed those?

But I don’t think it’s one sided. Love is a choice right? I can choose to love him. So if you and Petra---

Me and Petra. There were too many things wrong with it, a boss and a direct report, a conflict of interest.

But she seems genuine. She seems like a good person. And maybe she could be worth pursuing.

She’s my direct report. He argued then.

But if you decide to pursue a relationship, you can always just reshuffle, right?

Petra continued to talk. “Does she like tea? We could give her a tea bag. The one I bought you last Christmas… it took me months to find it…” She brought out her phone and started to scroll, seeming too deep in thought. She furrowed her brows and bit her lip, as if the extra effort hurt..

An unnecessarily vigorous effort over a simple request from him. Guilt was an unwelcome feeling but it was also incredibly tenacious, like a cockroach. His mind was becoming more receptive to painful speculation as he watched Petra grapple over her choices, and he wasn’t at all being helpful.

Guilt was the rising action. Then everything fell into place soon after, not into place, more like a chaotic order, like a ton of bricks.

And that order made his feelings more intelligible.

He didn’t want to be in a relationship with Petra. That was all there is to it.

Love is a choice right? A tiny glimmer of protest made itself known in the silence. Those were words from Hange, echoed multiple times before in an exact tone and manner only Hange could ever pull off.

Can I choose to love Petra? Levi asked himself then.

Petra was a nice girl. She was helpful. She worked hard. She was competent. More importantly, she was single and she wasn’t married to his very rich client.

Most importantly though, in the grand scheme of all his experiences and emotions, Levi had to point out to himself, she wasn’t Hange.

Why don’t you give her a chance? Hange had asked that then. She goaded him, nudged him and pushed him out of his own office, to follow after Petra had left the office with the devices.

It's frowned upon, boss colleague relationship. Levi had argued.

Something tells me she likes you. Hange continued, as if she never heard of the unspoken taboos of office relationships. Maybe she hadn’t.

Besides, I noticed… You know, you look a lot happier. How that had ended up the conclusion of their conversation, Levi couldn't exactly tell. He remembered looking up at Hange, to hell with how far down his jaw dropped or how wide his eyes were. There was just something special about Hange pointing out something and how quickly something could easily become a certain reality when someone just verbalized it.

Maybe he was happier, maybe he started to appreciate nature a lot more. Maybe he had started to see more color the past few months.

His own recall of Hange, his own thoughts that flew back to her had him perceptive of the variety on his plate, the decorations on the shop for just a split second and when he looked up to Petra, a part of him was at the least attempting to appreciate.

Petra was a redhead, her hair fell in a neat bob that barely brushed her shoulders. Red was a nice color on hair, and Levi only noticed it then. He stared for a while longer, trying to find something to feel, something to think beyond ‘nice.’

Petra’s eyes shot up and she met his gaze. “This is it!”

“What?” Levi asked, almost instinctively. He felt a tad self conscious analyzing the shade of someone’s hair.

“I found the tea, the one I gave you last Christmas. You really liked it right?” Petra asked.

“The Jasmine Pearls?” He did remember the tea then he remembered telling her he really did enjoy it. A part of him had maybe forgotten for a split second that it was Petra who gave it so the question had shaken him more than necessary.

“I was only able to get it from a shipment last time. I had to book three months to get it. But they’re on sale now and---”

“She might prefer coffee though...” Levi said. His own intention had been to find the perfect present, but he ended up feeling guilty as soon as he saw Petra’s reaction.

Her face fell. She turned back to her phone for just a second before fixing her eyes back to his. She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for that, I can’t believe I got so excited.” A blush crept up her face.

“No. Don’t think about it like that.” Levi attempted to maintain at least a ghost of a laugh in his tone. The last thing he wanted to do was keep Petra unnecessarily uncomfortable, especially after everything that had happened until that moment.

The air was heavy and he wondered if she noticed it too. She was probably too preoccupied with her own self proclaimed mistakes, very evident by the beet red of her face.

“Let’s go around first. We might come up with something better if we ask around the shops,” Levi suggested. It had been more to comfort her than anything else. The suggestions of a while ago, the list of items had only served to make Levi think a little deeper about it, to the point of acceptance.

Even before they had finished their food, Levi had already concluded for himself, whatever he gave Hange, whether it be a wallet, tea, a small trinket, Zeke had probably come up with a more expensive version, something he probably would have never considered buying himself.

Levi didn’t leave though. Soon after they finished eating, he still accompanied Petra to every shop. He made a facade for himself, a window shopper buying a birthday gift for a good friend, he asked enough questions to engage Petra, everything ending with the conclusion, “I’ll think about it.”

Overtime, he realized he wasn’t thinking too much of what was in front of him. His mind was elsewhere.

Besides, I noticed… You know, you look a lot happier. Hange was smiling when she said it, but the smile didn’t curl the same way the others did. She crinkled her eyes as she spoke but Levi could almost point out the sadness in them.

And he saw it every time he recalled that. What does that have to do with dating Petra?

I like seeing you happy and I think if you found someone to love, maybe you’ll stay like this much longer.

Like what?

More pleasant? Smiling more often? Appreciating stuff outside work?

Hange talked for longer after that but that had worked to motivate him to invite Petra out to get to know her, to ask for advice for a gift for Hange. Somehow, a part of him wanted to take Hange’s advice, stay ‘happy’ so in his own way, he could prove her right and maybe by extension, make her happy too.

But was entertaining a relationship with Petra the right way?

The question burned for longer. Even after they exhausted all the shops and all the ideas that came with it. It was around eight in the evening when they stood by the train station under the mall, exchanging goodbyes. “Make sure to get home safe.” A part of him had considered taking her home. Their trains went in completely opposite directions though.

“Will do,” Petra said.

“We have a long day ahead tomorrow.” They always had a long day ahead but at that point, Levi was foraging for something a boss would say.

“Yeah, I'll make sure to get the testing done tomorrow," Petra said. "What happened today, it definitely gave me the motivation. I had a lot of fun.”

“Me too.” His response was automatic, something he didn’t want to think too much of.

They separated soon after and when Levi boarded the train home, he entertained the question again.

Was entertaining a relationship with Petra the right way to be happy?

I think entertaining love is an opportunity to be happy at least. Hange argued. You don’t have to jump into it but I think building a relationship with someone teaches you a lot and love, it makes life colorful.

Colorful? The trains were grey, the suits of all the passengers were shades of black, grey and the occasional blue. An almost alarming transformation from the gardens, after long days of working with Hange.

A copy of the emotions alarm was downloaded onto his phone and in the silence of the long ride home, he opened it again. He clicked ‘activate,’ the application loaded, no emotion was detected.

It was a fun night right? Levi concluded, there really was some more to improve on in the application. With the amount of testing done, and the amount of data loaded, he also had to entertain the idea that maybe it wasn’t an issue with the application.

Maybe it was his own issue with appreciating, with being open to love. “That’s what you were saying, right Hange?” He whispered to himself. A second later, he thought maybe he had said it loud enough to sound like an idiot.

Before nervousness and overthinking could take over again, he willed himself to mull over Hange’s words like always.

Love is a choice and just be open to it. Even if he didn’t believe it for himself.

***

It turned out, Erwin also knew about Hange’s birthday. And he suggested a basket of fruit as a gift.

Levi had been a little surprised. For one, maintaining partner and customer relations was never part of his job so how the hell was he to know that baskets of fruits and cakes were customary.

And secondly, he was just a little indignant. Erwin was his boss though so he couldn’t tell him that. He complied before going back to his office and booting up his laptop. It felt odd.

The laptop pinged with a characteristic echo and it was much louder in the silence, the almost deafening silence. After all, most days, Hange would have been there to chatter his ear off about her own experience testing.

That day, she had taken the day off. A birthday leave. Just for herself. She took September four and September five off. The fourth was to prepare for the long trip. Then on the fifth, she had dinner with Zeke, in an Italian restaurant on the first floor of a luxury hotel near the city center.

He knew the details, he knew the name. But it has nothing to do with you. He constantly reminded himself, it was only on a good to know basis. Still, he entertained the idea that maybe he could stop by the city center on the train on the way home, just for the modicum of a probability that he did run into them. It was not like he had anything else to do on a Friday night anyway.

But you can think about that tomorrow. Levi scolded himself. Somehow, Hange not being there was making it more difficult to focus. After all, she had been there, every single day before.

Also, how could he entertain multiple other ideas about Hange’s birthday when he didn’t even have a present for her? He had managed to put off Petra’s suggestions lightly, by some distraction from work. He had managed to make a good excuse of the fruit basket, saying that it was better to give a gift as a company.

Really, it had been his own insecurity stopping from putting any money into anything. Zeke could buy Hange a billion wallets, a billion tea bags, a billion fruits basket if it suited him. Then it begged the question for Levi, what could he give that Zeke couldn’t?

The emotion alarm. The answer didn’t come quickly. It came after staring at the desktop screen for long enough to lose grip on the time but after a long moment of doing nothing, Levi eventually brought out a test device and opened the server.

There were three basic emotions. Anger, Sadness and Happieness. Those were the three Hange put into her plan. They were to create the application, test it among patients and study it to see how it could help with more accurate prognosis.

And if he went the extra mile, maybe he could just give it as a late birthday surprise. Or maybe he might end up never finishing it. At least I’d try. That last thought lingered for a second longer and it did its part to send a burst of confidence through him.

He looked through his workflow tracker. No assigned bugs to look into. So he opened a new document, pulled out a paper.

“Hange Zoe, you wanted to test emotions right?” He asked no one in particular. When he was asking questions out loud, ideas ended up flowing much faster. He pulled out a small paper from the post-it stack at the corner of his desk.

“What if we connect it to the web, make a dashboard to display reports, so maybe psychologists have something to look at after testing?” He could have said it out loud. Maybe he didn’t. He had said it loud enough in his head at least to keep his gears moving. “What if we find a way to quantify it?” That last part was ambitious. It would need Hange’s input for sure so he grappled with two ideas, surprising Hange and just suggesting it like a developer.

His ideas were risks, born of long hours of googling enough to maybe bullshit years of studying psychology. Maybe Hange wouldn’t agree, maybe she would. He copied the necessary code from the alarm anyway and decided to just play around with it.

It was a birthday present only he could give anyway.

Another idea popped into his head after an hour more of googling, a much more doable idea. Even before he made sense of it, he pulled another post-it from the side and wrote out the three emotions. Underneath them, he wrote the colors. Red. Blue. Yellow.

Yellow and red became orange. Red and blue became purple. Yellow and blue became green.

He wasn’t a psychologist, he wasn’t a philosopher. He was merely a developer. He was an experienced one at that and with the right amount of free time and the right amount of motivation, he managed at least to pull out a framework and recall the color of the leaf on Hange’s lap.

Red. Yellow. Blue. Orange. Green. Purple. He had enough time to work on some front end tasks that day.

***

He finished it on Friday, the fifth of September, at around noon and maybe he had done a few hours of overtime to get it done, arriving home at midnight just the night before.

It wasn’t perfect but the colors showed up as a big dot under the emotion, and the application would flash in bright shades of red, yellow, blue, orange, green and purple, the latter three a mix of the basic emotions.

It had been a small act of just manipulating the data, loading Hange’s USB full of data to get it to work. Whether it would be accurate, he couldn’t tell but it would be something good to bring up on Monday maybe, a risky birthday present but still, a little risk seemed better than omission when it came to Hange.

The last few parts were a little tests on his end, while testing in between, while signing off necessary decisions for the testing on Monday.

The testing never worked, no emotions flashed onto the screen the few times he tested and every single time, he reminded himself, it wasn’t perfect but maybe Hange would still appreciate it.

By five, he was out, right on time and with his own personal project completed and downloaded into his phone, his workflow tracker empty, and everything ready for the large scale QA event on Monday and he thought himself a little deserving of a little stroll at the city center on a Friday night.

At around thirty minutes past five, he boarded the train, the same route home, stopping five stops shy of his usual stop.

The station at the city center on a Friday night was bustling. It had taken him a good one minute to even push himself out of the train. He only ever managed to get a glimpse of the shops, the city lights beyond the crowds not when he stepped out of the station, but a few blocks after that when for a good few minutes the crowds dissipated into something a little more breathable.

The luxury hotel Hange had mentioned was one, if not the best one in the city and Levi easily picked it out as he stood towards one of the less saturated parts of the crosswalk. It was a skyscraper, the windows were of the modern kind that reflected city lights in a unique way and they covered the building from top to bottom. And even from just his peripherals, he could pick the building out by the strange iridescent flashes of color.

The view was very much worth the price and Levi only had to walk ahead, catch it as a small glimmer behind buildings and crowds to know he was going the right direction, despite having to ride through the crowds.

He arrived at the block, the building only a few feet away, close enough that he had to strain his neck to get a glance of the skyscraper at the top. He looked back down at his phone.

6:30. Hange said they had a reservation for seven. He wondered why he was putting himself through that torture. Would he even get to talk to her? Eventually he realized, might as well make use of that information just to satisfy his curiosity again.

The restaurant was a small place, with glass windows, and if Levi stared long enough he could make out every single face there. For a Friday, it was still empty and he was able to conclude without much of a long glance that Hange wasn’t there.

So he took a good long stroll around the block. He entered leather shops, boutiques that sold branded clothing, staying long enough that the salesman had thought he would have bought.

Thirty minutes passed with a few bumps along the way. Sometimes minutes lasted years, sometimes they lasted split seconds but the bumpy wait was long enough for him to realize that he was doing something completely stupid.

It was Hange's birthday. That was Hange and Zeke's night. All he could give her that day was a greeting, and maybe a basket of fruits, care of Erwin.

So he planned a birthday message, saving it in the drafts. He didn’t have to give her the modified birthday application as a present. He could always prepare a script to pitch his suggested changes for the application on Monday. Disappointment and surrender had him lethargic and for a while after exiting the last store, Levi leaned back on some free brick wall where the space was for rent, a good distance away from the sea of people but still close enough that if he just stretched out his arm, he might just get dragged in.

He leaned back and stared, allowing himself that bout of reprieve as he watched the crowds go by. Crowds of people weren’t anything new, he dealt with those everyday trying to squeeze into the trains during rush hour every morning.

Crowds on a Friday, in the center of the city weren’t something he was completely used to though. He hated crowds and he always strategically timed his personal shopping trips to late afternoons on weekdays, particularly when it was much easier to maintain a comfortable distance from strangers.

When he was observing, time went by at a sluggish pace. For a while, Levi was hypnotized by the strange cadence that accompanied the view. The longer he stared, the more perceptive he became. There was a very big difference between crowds on a weekday during rush hour and crowds on a Friday night moving through a shopping district.

When he was close enough, he immediately picked it out, like a very small diamond in a sea of coal, invisible at first but from the right angle, it suddenly became crystal clear. Crowds in rush hour comprised hard, focused individuals. They were like streams: movements were loud, hard wired towards one direction.

Crowds on a Friday night were more like a river, they were moving but only barely, very subtly. Of course they would, the faces were relaxed, the people were rarely alone. Some clusters in the crowds came as one family, others came in groups of friends and others came in couples.

The more faces Levi scanned, the heavier he became. It dawned on him soon after he was alone in crowd of people and he was fucking lonely. For a second he considered testing his application, he decided soon after that he probably didn’t want a bunch of code rubbing his own loneliness and singleness in his face. For another second, he almost considered inviting Petra over.

Shaking both temporal thoughts away, Levi turned the corner and back to the main road, making some excuse that the main road which passed the five star hotel was the closest way back to the station. It was a valid conclusion at least, the main road was wide enough, and the shops were few and far in between that social distancing wasn’t too big of an issue.

There was another conclusion Levi liked to entertain though. He checked his watch. 7:30.

Hange had said before, the reservation was at seven. He dove into a crowd, while catching a glimpse of the restaurant to the window. Hange was surprisingly easy to spot, maybe because Levi had first swept through the seats on the corner with his vision. He spotted the brown hair, the glasses and a dark purple cocktail dress. Notably, there was no blond companion in front of her.

Zeke was in the toilet, his rational mind justified. “Have fun, Hange,” Levi said. At least he got to see her on her birthday, he allowed himself a passing thought on how well she had dressed up that night, similar to months ago when he had completed the test app. Then he brushed that thought away, looked straight ahead. He stayed with the sea of people, long enough to pass the hotel and as soon as he was a good distance away, he broke away, taking the underground path to the station.

It was still early and the station entrance was surprisingly more peaceful than above ground. He had enough space to open up his phone and check the birthday greeting in his drafts box.

Happy birthday Hange! Excited to continue working with you. See you on Monday for app testing. Btw, thanks for volunteering for the calibration on Monday.

He evaluated for himself that the text was a good balance between casual and professional. Satisfied, Levi clicked send and pocketed his phone as he made his way to the ticket gate.

The next time he opened his phone was in the train, three train stops in when he was lucky enough to catch an empty seat.

Thanks, Levi :)

It was too short of a message for Levi to read through and he was almost disappointed at such a turn out.

What did you expect, an ‘I love you?’ The tremble in his lips was enough evidence, that maybe a part of him did, as embarrassing, as ridiculous of a prospect as it was. He hovered his thumb over the keyboard, letting the weight of the incomprehensible emotions pass before he typed.

See you on Monday. That’s what he had wanted to type, just to keep the conversation going. Hange was still typing though.

Levi was staring at the bubbles above the message box for a good long few minutes. Minutes, it definitely took minutes. Hange was typing long enough for a station to announce a next stop, enough for the train to empty at that stop, enough for it to refill and enough for the conductor to announce the next stop,

The text eventually came. Where are you right now?

How the hell had that taken minutes to write, Levi didn’t know. He wasn’t eager to reciprocate though.

He replied within a few seconds. Why?

Hange took a little longer to reply. The bubble on the screen continued to bounce as Hange Zoe continued to type.

Nothing much. I was just curious. It had taken almost another train stop for Hange to type those six words.

A split second later, another message appeared underneath. Sorry for bothering you. So Hange wasn’t just a slow typer.

It was still eight in the evening, too early that for most, the night hadn’t even started. So Levi took a risk. He left the train at the next stop, boarded the other train that ran through that same line, the train that would bring him back to the city center.

Hange, you okay? He texted.

Hange didn’t reply. There was no bouncing of bubbles above the message box, but he continued to stare, just in case. And that little motion on the screen was a fickle thing.

Sometimes it appeared, sometimes it didn’t.

Hange Zoe is typing.... And sometimes, he stared at it for long enough that it seared into his vision even a minute after it was long gone from the screen.

She never did type anything and maybe he had waited too long for a response. By the time he arrived at the right station again, he tapped his card and exited the ticket gate and ran through the underground. When he reached above ground, he tried to maintain the same speed. That involved pushing through crowds and being a small man, he realized it wasn’t too much of a bother to anyone. After all, with the amount of people huddled in the crowds under the cool air of late summer, he wasn’t the only one pushing.

He didn’t have time to check his phone. And soon, he realized he didn’t need to. He arrived back at the hotel to find Hange hunched over, unmoving in the same seat she had been just a few hours back.

Zeke is in the toilet. Levi told himself. He waited a minute, then another. And when he looked closely, he realized, Hange was on her phone. He opened his phone to see the bubbles bounce again.

Hange Zoe is typing…

Levi was counting minutes, and the bubble never disappeared. He looked back up at the glass door to see Hange was still not moving, still slouched, her head bent over. To the phone on her lap maybe?

He looked back at his phone and concluded then, Hange had been typing for ten minutes.

Maybe Zeke is taking a shit. He set an alarm for ten minutes. The hotel and restaurant bathroom wouldn’t be too far. And no one took a shit for more than twenty minutes right? If Zeke didn’t come back in ten minutes, maybe that meant she was alone.

Ten minutes went by quickly. And a few times Hange had typed, a few times she had laid her phone on the table and leaned back on the chair. A waiter had offered wine once and Hange shook her head.

It would be rude to barge in but at the same time, there were answers he was desperate to get. He sent a message. Are you alone?

The typing stopped for a second. Then it continued for a minute. Then it stopped. Finally, like the sunshine after the rain, a chat bubble appeared and Levi savored the sound for a split second before he took in the contents.

Just one word. Yeah

Where’s Zeke?

He’s not coming tonight.

Levi leaned on the wall just next to the window and typed one message. You need someone there with you?

A few times he glanced back to see a waiter near her, handing Hange a small tray. The bill? He guessed. Hange should be going out soon but she continued to sit, for a few seconds longer.

Her reply came within those few seconds. I don’t wanna be alone tonight.

Levi leaned back on the wall and he closed his eyes. He took a deep breath, grappling with the conflict. Should he be happy? Sad?

His phone continued to buzz. Hange had left messages in succession.

Can I stop by?

I know a lot of places won’t be open.

We can get fast food.

Somewhere near your place maybe?

Anywhere that would be convenient for you.

Only if you’re not busy though.

Don’t feel obliged.

A string of messages, longer than he expected.

Exit the shop. Turn right and follow the sidewalk. Don’t cross the street. He was shit at the directions, but he decided for himself, she would ask anyway if she got lost.

It turned out, at the least, the directions sufficed. Soon he was hearing the clack of leather shoes, the rustle of a light autumn coat and Hange’s voice.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice was loud and clear even when it was competing with the sea of crowds, the other background conversations, the ads and the sound of traffic. Of course it would be, she was right next to him.

“Are you okay?” Levi asked. It wasn’t the best greeting but it felt like the most natural thing to say.

After all, Hange was smiling but it was an unusual smile. It was one of those smiles that seemed to be carrying a heavy weight. He figured it out after staring for a while longer. it was the weight of her cheeks, the prickling of her eyes. If she let the smile go, maybe everything would have fallen with it.

He gripped her by the hand. “You wanna go somewhere?”

“Let’s get out of here,” Hange said, a noticeable crack in her voice.

Maybe that had been enough to break the fragile smile on her face. In the crowds of people, in the middle of a busy street, there was no time for Levi to check. He thought it the best move to pull and maybe she thought it the best move to follow. She was obedient, predictable and light and he easily brought her farther from the center, towards the quieter parts of the city.

Five minutes of brisk walking, or maybe it was ten and soon, they reached an area with clusters of apartment buildings, residences. There were still small shops, a few restaurants and hole in the wall food stalls, some with lines spilling out all the way until the sidewalk.

At first, it seemed hopeless to find some place just for both of them. With time, Levi started to imagine one particular place that wouldn’t have so many people that late at night.

It should be bedtime for kids already anyway. He thought to himself. And when he articulated it, he was sure, there should be one. And there should be no people.

He just had to find one.

Five more minutes of following the winding roads between apartment buildings and he found one, a comfortable distance away from apartments. They could easily manage a soft conversation with no risk of being heard. He sat back on the swing, taking in the slide, the sandbox a few feet away, the monkey bars and high rise apartment buildings with most windows already illuminated just above them.

Hange had taken the seat beside him.

“Are you okay?” Levi asked again.

“I’m fine,” Hange spat out, only proving she was definitely not fine. There was enough light from the one street light on the corner, the shades of orange, red and white coming from the window and they had all worked together to show a glimmer of Hange’s face, even with her head bent down.

“Are you crying?”

The answer came in heaved breaths. The question must have made her more conscious. She bent down further on the swing. Her bangs covered her face and whatever glimmer he had seen a while ago was forgotten. Eventually, she gathered herself. “Levi, if you ask people why they’re crying, sometimes they just start crying.” She let out another breath.

That didn’t convince him to stop. “Why are you crying?”

“You don’t ask people that.” That time, the words came out a little more seamlessly.

“You asked me if I was crying back then… Back in the office.” Levi never forgot that harrowing experience and it was an easy memory to bring up.

There was silence for a second, save for a few more ragged breaths, the creak of the swing and maybe a few barking dogs from the distance.

Hange broke it herself, her voice much clearer than a while ago. “Sorry, I’m just tired,” she said. “Really tired.”

“Zeke ditched?” Maybe ditch wasn’t the right term. By the time he considered that, the words were long gone from his mouth.

“I knew he wasn’t coming,” Hange said. She pushed on the swing just a little bit, enough to have her swaying.

“Why did you wait?”

“We had a reservation.”

“But if he told you…”

“He told me to cancel it.”

“And your road trip?”

“He said not this weekend. He has a few more meetings and he couldn’t come home on time.” Hange’s voice was alarmingly serious, a sign of acceptance maybe?

Levi hoped not. In a feeble attempt to lighten the mood, he spoke up. “Happy Birthday.”

“I’d rather not think it’s my birthday.” Hange let out a pitiful excuse of a laugh. “How many birthdays do people even get, and here I am wasting one of them being sad.”

“I’m not the best company but I can try to do my part to help make it better,” Levi pulled out his phone and opened his email, opening the apk file he had been working on since that morning. He copied the download link and pasted it on Hange’s message box.

The message was sent quickly and the popping sound from Hange’s phone filled the silence of the empty playground.

“Happy birthday,” Levi said once again with a little more flourish.

“I told you, don’t remind me. Let’s just sit here and talk.” Hange gripped the chains of the swing and leaned back.

“Check your damn phone Hange.”

“Nah… My phone has been chocked full of disappointments since this morning.”

“I sent you your birthday gift through your phone.”

“It can wait until later,” Hange argued.

She was like a five year old child and Levi was starting to give up on even keeping the surprise.“I modified the app,” he said.

“What?” That had gotten Hange’s attention. She pulled out her phone.

“I created another copy of it, played around with the code.”

“Why?” She seemed curious more than anything. Curious was better than sad at least.

“As a birthday gift,” Levi said. “Just open the damn phone.”

Hange picked it up from her lap. A clicking sound as she unlocked the phone then silence and maybe a hint of humming as Hange fiddled with her phone. “I just download it right?”

“No shit Sherlock.” It was a stupid question. Hange had downloaded apk files more times than he could even count.

“Well, you said it’s a new app,” Hange said in defense.

“It is and it isn’t.” Levi moved his head, and it settled as a mix between a shake and a nod. “It’s not part of the original research plan… and I didn’t have much time to test it so it’s not perfect.” He unlocked his own phone and opened the emotions alarm. He stared at it for a second, hovering his thumb over the activate button then he looked over at Hange’s phone. “No need for an email. Just open it.”

“Nothing’s changed,” Hange said.

“Well, I added colors now,” Levi shrugged. “And I tried adding more emotions by playing around with the data, but who knows if they’ll show up.” At that point, he was self conscious enough that he saw it as an obligation enough to manage expectations.

He heard the familiar sound and he was sure Hange had activated it. He activated his own and leaned back on the swing and pushed just a little bit, enough to occupy himself while the alarm read them both.

Hange’s phone rang first.

“What did you get?”

“You added purple?” Hange asked. “What the hell does this mean?”

“Red and blue. So if red is anger and blue is sadness…” Levi started.

“Go on…” Hange said.

“I’m not a philosopher nor a psychologist. You say something.”

“Loathing?” She suggested. “A combination of anger and sadness… It sounds like loathing to me, or indignance.”

His own phone rang, he put the screen up. “I got green. Blue and yellow. Sad and happy. Can someone be sad and happy at the same time?”

“Acceptance,” Hange answered. “Or desire.”

“Those are opposites.” “Opposite sides of the spectrum but they’re the same feelings, they both involve happiness and sadness. Acceptance is sad happiness. Desire is happy sadness.”

He almost regretted asking for Hange’s feedback. He felt her speculation at the pit of his stomach and he only realized when his phone fell to the ground that he froze, lost his balance on the swing for a second. “This hasn’t been tested though so it’s all for fun.” A pathetic disclaimer but it didn’t seem to work. He looked up to see Hange was staring at him.

The tears had dried and her eyes were a bit brighter and she seemed more inquisitive than sad. “You know... " Hange started off slow,  breathless from amazement maybe. She was still fiddling, staring at her own screen. "This might be a good idea for the app. Let's test this again on Monday. Maybe we could add this."

“Maybe. We’re gonna have to revise the plan if we do.”

“Or we can keep it just a personal project but let’s think about it Monday.” Hange stood up. It’s getting late.” She put her hands up and stretched, swaying from side to side.

“Yeah, it’s getting cold too,” Levi said. Summer was ending soon.

“Happy Birthday to me,” she added, the venom from a while ago apparent. She pocketed her phone then held her sweater close. “Zeke said to wait a few weeks. I guess I’m gonna have to wait until next year to enjoy summer up north again. Maybe we can go south instead.” She kept her voice cheery, an attempt to lighten the mood.

A seemingly unsuccessful attempt. “You still wanna see summer up north?” Levi asked.

“I wouldn’t mind waiting. I guess what hurts about it is, I’ve been psyching myself up for days. I bought new clothes. I’ve been packing and I’ve already created a route for us,” Hange said.

“Yeah, you were talking about it a few days back, about how this one garden reminds you of Pemberley.” Levi asked.

“Well, last time I went there was a few years ago… There’s an area that reminds me of Pemberley, another one that reminds me of the Rosing garden---” Hange trailed off.

“I wanna see them all,” Levi said. He never finished the book and he wondered if she noticed. Regardless, he wanted to see it anyway. If there was something Hange could talk about for hours, something that had left her a lump of disappointment, he wanted to see it for himself.

“Really?” She said. “But with testing on monday… And you don’t seem like the type to---” Even under the dark night, Hange looked flustered, the pink in her cheeks still apparent.

“As long as we’re back before Monday right?” He didn’t know if she would agree. He didn’t expect her to but when Hange was already hovering such a prospect up in the air. When she had misunderstood that last statement to have been an invite, he might as well just play along. And enjoy it. “I don’t see any problem going with you,” he added that last part just to make it a little clearer.

"Like this weekend?" Hange asked, a look of disbelief on her face.

"This weekend." Levi nodded.

“Then let’s go. When do you think you’ll be ready?”

“We could leave right now.”

[hoebii]

Like me better

Pairing : Park Jimin x Reader

Genre : Fluff, Highschool!Au, e2l, rivals

Rating : PG13

Warning : ‘Curse’ words are mentioned (is ‘shit’ even a curse word fhgjv), OC wanting to choke Jimin and not in the kinky way, brief mention of Jimin being a playboy thot, hating on mint chocolate because it’s the worst flavour to exist you can fight me on this

Wc : 4k

A/N : Alright, this was originally supposed to be a birthday drabble but it got a little out of hand as you can see. We had a whole lot planned for this fic but it got too long oops- so we decided to cut it short and keep the ending open huhu. Happiest birthday to our precious maknae @heejinnien​ from @xiaokoo​ (who also made this AMAZING banner btw) and I. Hope you like your present baby! We love you so so so much~<3 Also this isn’t as edited as I’d like it to be but I got impatient okay don’t @ me :<

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

The bustling crowd of students bumped into you repeatedly as you weaved through them to get to class. You kept a strong grip on your books so as to not drop them. People squeezed passed as you tried not to trip and fall flat on your face. You had slept through your alarms and were currently rushing to your class, cursing at yourself for this blunder in your head. 

“Sorry, excuse me, oh shit!” You catch yourself as you tumbled to the ground. Your books splay across the floor as you winced at the sore feeling. Hopefully, no one would step on you or your books - you had paid good money for them!-. As for tripping over, you looked over your shoulder, glaring when you caught sight of a group of boys laughing. 

“Aw is little princess hurt?~” You heard one of them call out, the others snickering in the background. You ignored them and started gathering all your books, telling yourself they weren’t worth the trouble. You were almost done picking up all the books on the ground when one was suddenly snatched from your grasp. Looking up at the culprit you see Park Jimin, the bane of your existence, holding it up.

“Are you sure you even need books?” He snickers, flicking through it. “You’re not even smart, why bother studying if it doesn’t do you any good?” 

You feel your blood boil. How dare he?! You were smarter than him in every possible way. He had no right to mock you, sure he was smart but you always placed second. If there was one thing you hated, it was being second best to Park Jimin. 

“You’ll just come second like always.” 

That comment hit you hard. You tried to keep your cool, resisting the urge to punch him in the face. Sure, Jimin was annoying but there was no way you were going to create a scene because of it. Not again. Instead, you rolled your eyes, choosing to ignore him and walked away. There would be no reason to argue with a dumbass. Why waste your time?

Jimin watched as you walked away. He smirked to himself. Despite acting calm, he’d known you long enough to know that you were fuming inside. There were buttons he knew how to push to get the reaction he wanted and he thoroughly enjoyed provoking you. 

--------

You stumbled into the classroom, panting from the light jog. “Damn I need to get back in shape, Jesus Christ.” you whispered to yourself. 

“Miss Y/L/N, care to explain why you’re five minutes late to the class?” Your professor’s voice boomed in the small classroom. You look at him, giving him a sheepish smile as you rub your neck. 

“I… got lost…?” 

What was that?! You wanted to smack yourself at your own words. So much for your perfect attendance. 

“You got lost?”

“Y...es…”

Your professor took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Just, just go to your seat.”

You scurried to your seat, setting down your books and sitting down. You heard snickering from beside you and you turned your head slightly towards the sound to see none other than Park Jimin laughing at you. Feeling your face flush in embarrassment, you turned towards your professor and started jotting down notes. You were not going to get riled up by Jimin during a class. 

-----------

It’s official. Life hates you. You must have been some sort of a witch in your last life who thrived by torturing others. That had to be it. Why else would you ever get partnered with Park freaking Jimin for your science project?! Apparently, the professor had said it was because you two were ‘top students that will compliment each other well’. But you’re certain it was actually because she hated you and you must have tortured her or something in your past life and this was her way of getting revenge. You’re pretty sure you came up with at least 7 ways to end Park Jimin in the time he took to move his seat closer to you for ‘discussing details about the project.’ 

“So you’re gonna draw the diagram and write everything,” Jimin started as soon as he sat down. He dumped his bags to one corner taking out the necessities. “I will be supervising you as I’m clearly the better one here.”

Oh how much you craved to just lean forward and wrap your fingers around his neck and choke him. How can a person be this insufferable? You could just shove a damn pen up his- 

“Alright class dismissed! Remember, the deadline is on Monday next week! Have a nice weekend.” Your professor announced, snapping you out of your thoughts.  

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, don’t screw up the project.” 

With that Jimin left you sitting there fuming at him. You let out a tired sigh and begin packing up to leave too, mind running wild. Why couldn’t Jimin just be a good person for once?

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

The weekend seemed to go by in a flash, just you working on the project with Jimin, who had surprisingly been quite helpful. Just when you thought he had a heart, he had said it was ‘so you don’t ruin my grades.’ Yeah nevermind he still sucks.

What you didn’t know was Jimin being nice - well as nice as a jerk can get anyway - was because he had a bet to win. One of the boys had proposed a bet after class when he caught Jimin bickering with you yet again. The bet was simple really, ask you out and date you for a while before leaving you. Jimin had refused at first but then everyone started taunting him. Who liked getting mocked? No one. It was plain simple anyways, no one would actually get hurt, wasn’t like you liked him. So he accepted.

It wasn’t easy to catch your attention, given the fact the both of you were mortal enemies, it was near impossible. He did everything in his power so you would look at him but all tactics had somehow managed to flop. There was only one other way of actually getting you to notice him and that was annoying you. However, that would ruin the whole point of the bet. 

“Y/n, Y/n, Y/n.” Jimin chanted as he poked you on the cheek incessantly. “Y/n pay attention to meeee.” He continued to whine. 

You felt your right eye twitch. Why was this dumbass bothering you?! There was no reason for him to even be five feet close to you. 

“What is it Jimin?” You turn to him, a sickly sweet smile on your face. “What is so important that you’re trying to talk to me?”

Jimin grinned, his eyes turning into crescents as he poked his cheek and gave a wink. “Hi~ How are you doing?”  

Is he for real right now? Did he think he was cute? You felt like throwing up. “Park what are you up to? You never act,” you started, eyes squinting in suspicion, “like whatever you’re doing right now.” 

Jimin gasped and placed a hand on his chest as if in pain before exclaiming, “What?! Me? Up to something? Impossible, I’m as innocent as an angel.” 

An angel? More like a devil. There was no way he was telling the truth. You’d known him long enough and not once in your life had he treated you with such...whatever that emotion was.

“Right. An angel. Okay.” You nodded.

“Do you not believe me? You can ask anyone on this campus and they would tell you how amazing I am.” He gestured his hands wildly. 

You scoffed at that, of course they would, he had slept with the majority and had the remaining wrapped around his tiny fingers. Plus, no one wanted to cross Park Jimin. He ruled the campus and everyone knew it. 

“Listen, just get to the point. I don’t have time for this nonsense.” You said, rolling your eyes and huffing. You had to get to your next class in about five minutes. There was no way you were going to be late because some idiot was bothering you. 

“Go on a date with me.”

You choked on air at that, did you hear that right? “E-excuse me what?!”

Jimin shrugged and crossed his hands, flexing slightly, “You heard me, go on a date with me this weekend. Heard there's a new ice cream shop here, we could go there.” 

“You want to take me on a date?” You look at him skeptically. Was this a test? Were you being filmed? “You’re joking.”

“No.” He fixed you with a stare. “I’m serious. One date, if you don’t enjoy that one date, I promise I won't bother you ever again.”

You stood there staring at him, alarm bells ringing in your head. This can’t be real. He’s lying. “You? Never bothering me ever again? That’s like saying you don’t sleep with everyone you meet.”

“I didn’t sleep with you.”

“That’s different!” You exclaimed, face flushing. “You hate me!”

Jimin tilted his head, his nose scrunching up. “I never said I hate you.” You open your mouth ready to retaliate. “You simply assumed I did, my actions don’t mean anything unless I say something.”

You stood speechless. There had to be one occasion where he had stated he hated you. One. You searched your brain. Sure enough there was no such memory. 

Not wanting to lose to Jimin nonetheless you stomped your feet and said, “Yeah well that makes no sense! Haven’t you heard ‘actions speak louder than words’? I thought you were smart” You tsked, shaking your head as if you were disappointed.

“But I’m standing here asking you out, I’m sure that counters all the things I’ve done to you.” He gives you a sly smirk, one you’re all too familiar with. “There’s really two options Y/n. One’s yes and the other is...yes. Which one do you choose?”

If you could you would have burned him to a crisp with your glare. Unfortunately, you hadn’t been gifted with laser vision like superman. It would have been quite a gift if you had. Imagine how peaceful life would be without Park Jimin judging your every move. Then again, you would miss him. Wait what?! You shook your head to clear your mind before looking at Jimin.

“No.”

Jimin’s eyes widened as he spluttered. “W-what do you mean no?!”

“N-O. No. Don’t tell me you forgot basic english.”

Jimin clicked his tongue in annoyance, glaring at you. No one had ever turned him down. Whatever Park Jimin wants he gets. Right now he wants you. 

“Why not?” 

You gave him a look. “Well, it isn’t exactly a secret that you sleep with anything that has two legs. I don't even know why you’re asking me out, you never go on dates.”

“That's because you’re different.”

You scoff. “Listen Park, this isn’t some shitty rom com that you can charm your way to my heart, this is reality and I’m smart enough to realise how much of a jerk you actually are.”

Words seemed to die in Jimin’s throat. A jerk?! Sure, he annoyed you but he didn't think he deserved the title of a jerk. If it wasn’t for that stupid bet he wouldn’t even be asking you out. There was no reason why you couldn’t go on just one date with him. It wasn’t as if he was asking you to juggle swords and then swallow them. Besides, Jimin was a very attractive person and he knew it too. What’s so bad about going out with him? You should feel blessed he was even asking you out in the first place!

“Just say yes already woman. One date won’t kill you,” Jimin groaned out, throwing his head back in frustration.

“One date with you will.”

You stared at each other, no one making a single move. The silence stretched on for a moment before Jimin sighed loudly and ran a hand through this hair. 

“Come on!”

“No”

“...Please?” Jimin couldn’t believe he had to beg. He never begs! The things he does for a stupid bet.

Rolling your eyes at Jimin, you sigh, “Fine. We can go there this Saturday.”

“I begged, why won’t you just accep--” Jimin started before cutting himself off, “Oh you said yes. Um, well, yeah ok.” He mumbled, trying to fix his composure. “Yeah see you there or something. Bye,” and with that he walked away, leaving you both amused and confused… and also late for class! Damn Park Jimin.

-----------

You stood in front of the ice cream shop waiting for Jimin to show up. He was late, but then again what were you expecting anyway? You rolled your eyes as you looked around, “If he doesn’t show up in the next minute, I’m leaving.” you mumbled to yourself, checking your watch for what felt like the umpteenth time. 

“Y/n!” A voice shouted from behind causing you to turn around. Jimin ran towards you, panting slightly. “Sorry, I had to run all the way here.”

“Did you forget about the date or were you just being a jerk and were late intentionally?”

His face flushed pink, avoiding your gaze. “I might have forgotten but that wasn’t completely my fault, I just lost track of time.”

“Yeah whatever.” 

Jimin went to hold open the door for you but you beat him to it, opening it for yourself and slamming it in his face. He held back the urge to leave right there. A bet needed to be completed. He followed you inside trying to strike a conversation with you, trying to get just a crack of a smile.

“So Y/n, how’s your day?” Jimin asked, giving you a sweet smile that would have anyone swooning but it had no effect on you. 

“It would be good if the one who asked me out on a date came on time.” You didn’t look at him, instead you were staring intently at the menu. 

Jimin bit his tongue to stop himself from saying something he would regret, giving you a tight lipped smile. “I’m sure your date regrets being late.” ‘And asking you out in the first place’ Jimin thought the last part but didn’t say out loud.

“Doubt it.” You shrugged. 

Jimin knew what you were doing. You were specifically trying to provoke him, there was no way that he would ask you out on a date voluntarily. You were trying to gouge out any secrets he was hiding. His job, obviously, was to try and not let you find out those secrets. There was no way you were going to cooperate if he told you about the bet. 

The two of you knew each other since you were both babies, your mothers knew each other and would always coo at ‘how cute these two will look together.’ Unfortunately for them though, since you were both young the two of you had some sort of competition going on. Didn't matter if it was who was smarter, who was faster or who could fit the most grapes in their mouth, the both of you were always competing. 

As you both grew older the bickering turned into bullying on his part. In truth, you actually didn't know what started this long feud, all you remembered was one day when you were five an annoying boy yanked your hair so hard that a few strands had come out. Annoying boy turned out to be Park Jimin and the two of you haven’t stopped arguing since. 

“What flavour are you getting?” Jimin peered over your shoulder. He looked at you expectedly. “I’ve already chosen mine, so it’s just up to you and I’ll pay.” He holds his wallet out. 

“Vanilla.” You said plainly.

“What?!” 

You turn to face Jimin, frowning. “What’s wrong with vanilla?”

He makes a face. “Y/n, it’s so boring, like you no doubt.” The last part had slipped out accidentally and he regretted it as soon as it left his mouth. That was it. You were going to scream at him and he would lose the bet.

Instead, you ignored his comment fixing your gaze back onto the menu. “What do you think I should get then? I’ll give you the choice, assuming you don’t pick a disgusting flavour like mint chocolate chip, I’ll be fine.” 

Sure, it was a stupid decision giving Jimin the power to pick what you were going to eat, but what could go wrong? Worst case scenario, you didn't like the flavour and he would be forced to go get a new one, which would cost him more money. It’s a win win. 

“You’re giving me the freedom to pick what flavour you’re having?” Jimin asked, making sure he didn't misunderstand your statement. You simply nodded, shrugging nonchalantly. 

“Yep” you replied when he stared at you for a while longer, popping the p.

Jimin smirked. “I’ll get you the best flavour to ever exist then.”

You raised an eyebrow at his statement, “Oh?”

“Yeah, mint chocolate~” 

You stared at him in disgust, scowling as you said, “Dude I just said that flavour is disgusting. Made by the devil himself.”

Jimin tapped his chin, as if he had no clue about you were saying, “Did you really? Can’t recall anything like that. Hmm.”

“Park Jimin, I swear to god if you get me that flavour I will rip your eyeballs out and shove them up your ass.”

“So you wanna touch my ass now?” He grinned smugly. You felt your cheeks heat up as you spluttered, desperately searching for a comeback.

“Just- just get me whatever you’re having. Unless it’s chocolate mint, then get out of my sight right now.” 

“Don't worry, I hate the flavour as much as you do. So, two birthday cakes coming right up.” You try to find ‘birthday cake’ on the menu. 

“Dude, the thing looks like a unicorn just threw up on it.” 

Jimin shoots you a glare. “Don’t disrespect the superior flavour bestowed upon us by the ice cream Gods.” You gape at him open-mouthed. Ice cream Gods?! The guy was insane. You were on a date with a guy who was insane. Rest in pepperoni to you.

“You’re insane,” You shake your head. “I’ll be waiting over there. Be quick.” You point to a table in the corner. 

“Yes ma’am” Jimin saluted before going to order at the counter. You shake your head. You’d known Jimin of most of your life and he’d always been silly and annoying. 

Some reason you knew a lot about him. You blamed it on your parents making you spend too much time with each other when you were younger. Also you needed to know every little thing about your mortal enemy, wasn’t that what mortal enemies did? You had to be prepared for anything and keep track of them at all times!

“Got your ice cream.” Jimin placed the cup in front of you as you stared at it with distaste. You’d never really had ice cream often but when you did you always went for the plain vanilla. It was simple, no need for toppings or colourful flavours. You weren’t one to take risks. 

“What monstrosity did you get for me, Park?” 

“Oh stop being a baby, it’s just strawberry with some syrup on it.” Jimin answered while he rolled his eyes, lips tugged up into a small smile. Eyes twinkling with adoration as he looked at you. 

“I’m not eating it.”

“Oh yes you are. Here comes the airplane!” Jimin started, taking a spoonful of the ice cream and moving it towards your face as if talking to a child. 

“I’m not a kid. I’m not ha-” Jimin shoves the spoon inside your mouth when you open it to retaliate, his lips lifted into a sly smile. You snatch the spoon off him while glaring at him and start feeding yourself. “Don’t patronise me, you jerk.” You grumbled.

Jimin almost cooed out loud at your pout but he barely controlled himself. Since when were you this cute? He watched as you ate.

“Is it good?” 

“...yes” You reluctantly answered, still pouting.

Jimin smiled, leaning back on his chair as he pat himself on his shoulder. “Another job done well by yours truly.”

You rolled your eyes. Then you noticed that Jimin’s ice cream looked slightly different to yours. It wouldn’t hurt to ask for a bite. Would it?

“What’s on yours?” Jimin looked up, the tiny spoon still in his mouth. “What’s on your ice cream?”

“Just extra sprinkles and chocolate sauce, nothing too special.” He shrugged, continuing to devour his dessert. You stare at your cup and then at his. Something must have been possessing you because before you knew it you were leaning over and digging your spoon into his cup.

“Hey, you can’t just do that!”

“Pretty sure I just did.” You popped the spoon into your mouth, savouring the taste. “You know you really weren’t kidding when you said this was good. For once, you did something right, congrats dude.” 

Jimin would have made a snarky comment but the look of pure ecstasy on your face stopped him. Even though he knew you for most of his life, there were parts you kept hidden. He knew you didn’t get out much, constantly studying was the only thing you seemed to do. A nice feeling bubbled inside of him. It was nice to know you were enjoying yourself, made him feel happy for some reason. 

You giggled, shoving more of the sweet dessert into your mouth. Too busy to notice that Jimin was staring at you. When you did, you gave him a look of confusion.

“What’s wrong?”

“You got a little something here.” He pointed to the left side of his face, holding in the urge to laugh at your cute expression. “No here, no.” He leaned over brushing his thumb over the corner of your lips. He stared at you, had your eyes always been so pretty? You felt yourself grow red at the close proximity between you two, not knowing what to do. Jimin leaned away, - why did your heart sink at that? - and licked his thumb. “Love this flavour.”

You avert your eyes quickly, blush getting brighter. You should not have found that as hot as you did. Get yourself together Y/N! Park Jimin, enemy number one! Nothing he does is mildly attractive. Nothing. He is the devil reincarnated!

Suddenly your phone started ringing, shattering whatever moment you two had going on. You picked up the device and checked the caller ID. Why was Jungkook calling now? You gave Jimin a sheepish look.

“Hello? I’m out. No. What? How did you- Alright alright.” Jimin watched as you spoke on your phone. 

You sighed in annoyance, hanging up after a while and giving Jimin a sheepish smile, “I need to go. Jungkook somehow made the microwave catch on fire.” 

Jimin raised his eyebrows in shock, looking at you as if you had grown two more heads. “What? How is that even possible?”

“Not a clue but I gotta dip. Thank you for inviting me here today. I still think you’re up to something though but whatever.” You spoke, getting up from your seat and grabbing your small messenger bag that you brought along. 

Jimin stood up alongside you, the both of you walking out of the shop and stopping on the sidewalk. “Yeah… Thank you for coming here with me.”

You two stood there staring at each other, not wanting to leave just yet. 

“Well then! I’ll see you on Monday. Bye Jimin,” You announced after a while, quickly pressing a small kiss on his cheek before dashing away. 

Jimin stood there in shock, hands raising to touch where you kissed him. Why was his heart racing so fast and why did he feel so warm inside? 

“Huh.. maybe you’re not so bad Y/L/N” Jimin spoke up to himself before he too started his walk back home, mind filled with thoughts of you.

[fountainpenguin]

It’s an Update

Hello, Riddle here! I know I’ve been pretty quiet on Tumblr lately. Here’s an update on my situation:

I will definitely post more fanfic updates soon. I’ve picked at drafts, but haven’t posted anything lately. Here are the reasons why:

I got a new IRL job. It’s a good fit for me, but I have less free time than I used to, of course. It’s a job that involves writing lots of articles on a variety of topics, and I enjoy how every day is a little different

Most of my free time for the last year has gone towards my mod work at the Creature-Crossing ARPG, and to my personal CC writing. I’ve been working on new activities over there (my recent favorite being our seasonal familiar shows... I won first place in the summer show!) and I have a lot of plot plans that are coming together now. If you ever want to see my original characters and read my CC writing, you can find my character directory HERE and my Table of Contents HERE.

Once November 1st hits, I won’t be preparing for the release of any more CC activities or events. All future activity or event releases will be overseen by the other mods, and I’ll simply be someone they can ask for extra help if needed. This is a big change for a mod who spent the last 12 months working on new releases, and will give me back some of the free time my IRL job will eat

The Creature-Crossing admin (my boss) greenlit my request to bring an assistant on the mod team who will specifically help me with a lot of my behind-the-scenes work, such as data entry and organization. I’ve never had another mod who specifically helps me with the back end duties before, so that will be awesome. I will need to spend some time training them, but once they are official, that will take some of my workload off and allow me more free time for this blog and personal writing time.

===

Fanfic updates you can expect to see soon:

- Reedfilter Rules

- Frayed Knots

- Origin of the Pixies

- Debut of Factor It In, my Kid Math-centric “WordGirl” fanfic (Subtitled “Tales of a third-grade superhero in training”)... Yes I am still in love with this idiot boy, expect lots of doodle pages soon

- The 130 Prompts project is on a slow-burn writing schedule... I’ll write for it when I want to, but I mostly want to focus on Origin and Knots this year.

Further info below the cut. There is more info about non-Fairly OddParents ‘fics in here too (under “non-FOP fanfics”), so if you’re looking forward to Mario World or “WordGirl” ‘fics from me, give this a click so you know what’s coming!

So, what does this update mean for your fanfics?

They’ll be active again soon! I’ve been picking at them behind the scenes, trying to build up a buffer. In an ideal world, I would love to release a new chapter for SOMETHING every Friday. I doubt this will be possible, but it’s something I would love to work towards in the future. Realistically, you can probably expect some kind of fanfic update once every two Fridays (two updates per month).

There might be some Fridays where posting an update is not possible. Instead, I’ll make a post about what progress I made instead. In the past, I often overworked myself to get a chapter out in time for my old deadline. I will not be doing that anymore, but will instead hold myself to a goal of “Make progress on something every week.”

In the best ideal world, I would love to post one FOP fanfic update per week and one non-FOP fanfic update per week. This is not likely to happen for a long, long time, but that would be the dream.

-

Here are the things I most likely worked on if there is no fanfic update:

- A fanfic chapter draft that needs more time

- A sideblog profile

- A Toyhouse profile for personal characters

- IRL work or mod work may have kept me busy this week

- Creature-Crossing writing... I will try to prioritize my fanfics more, but my CC writing is still important to me and I will be working on it in a lot of my free time too. At the moment, I have a hard deadline of December 14th that I need to meet if I want to release huge plot drama on the day that it happens in canon. I’ve been building up to this for a long time, so I’m really excited about that.

I currently have summer or autumn 2022 planned as the “finale” for the majority of my plot to explode. I will be hosting a member-run event in Creature-Crossing that will last for two months, so a lot of my time from January until the event’s release will be spent doing event prep. Once the event ends, my story content will mostly be a “return to slice of life.” Stories will be more casual one-offs as characters grow, live their lives, and start their own families. Hitting seasonal deadlines for plot will no longer be so important. I’ll be giving Creature-Crossing work less attention after that, and much more attention to my fanfics.

- I may not have a fanfic chapter out each week, but I WILL post a note every Friday to let you know what I have been doing with my time. You’ll see me around. Feel free to send Asks and talk!

===

What non-FOP fanfics would you like to work on?

For literal years, I’ve been claiming I want to post Mario World fanfics. This is still something I want to do. I tag Mario World posts as “mushrooms and more.” I’ve already done a lot of worldbuilding, I have thousands of words of content written for this fandom... I just haven’t posted any of it. I hope to do this soon.

- “WordGirl” fanfics are prioritized over Mario World fanfics. After I finish my first “WordGirl” multi-chapter, I will probably be ready to post my Mario World ‘fics. I may possibly post some Mario World one-shots in between other fanfic updates. Might take another year or more before I touch Mario stuff unless there’s high interest in seeing it sooner?

I also really want to write some WordGirl ‘fics and get more involved with the fandom community. I’ve been building headcanons and lore for this show ever since I was a kid, and I have multiple ‘fics for this fandom that I want to write.

- “AlgoRhythm” is a ‘fic I have already posted on FFN and AO3, about WordGirl introducing Kid Math to the villains in town

- 28 Cities is a ‘fic I started about Rhyme and Reason before they arrived in Fair City. I put it on hiatus since it didn’t seem like anyone was interested, but I’m willing to post more for it if there is interest in it now that years have passed and I’ve gotten more followers who like WordGirl. I have a lot of worldbuilding and plot I never shared for it

- Factor It In is a ‘fic I’ve been working for a while that parallels the official show from the moment Kid Math arrives in town. It focuses on Rex’s struggle to adjust to this world as a child coming into his superpowers for the first time (Y’know, the whole “superheroes don’t have powers when they’re on their home planets” thing), his struggle to adapt to the social world of a non-logical planet, and Becky’s struggle to help him become accustomed to Earth and learn to share it with her as well. If the episode “Kid Math” was a full-length novel about Rex’s arrival and character development, that’s what this story is. This is the highest priority of all my non-FOP ‘fics... I’ve had a cover image made for 6 months and even though I tried setting it aside, I’ve always been super inspired to write for it. If I felt like it would be a good idea to commit to weekly updates alongside my FOP updates, I would, haha.

- I have two one-shot WIPs called “Squishy Feelings” and “A Little Ambiguity”, one of them focusing on Becky and Rex talking about the events of “Rhyme and Reason” and what it means for Rex’s secret identity, and the latter being a future ‘fic showing WordGirl and Kid Math dealing with life 10 to 15 years down the road. I’ll probably post the latter, not sure yet on the former.

- If desired, I may make a WordGirl specific sideblog where I post lore, answer Asks, post character profiles [smaller than my FOP sideblog ones], and mention fanfic updates. If you would be interested in this, feel free to send me an Ask requesting I do this. If there’s not interest, I’ll just keep my WordGirl stuff on the main blog.

- I’d like to get more involved in the WordGirl community, so I’ll probably post more content and reblog more art and headcanons

I also have a handful of miscellaneous ideas I might follow through with. I’d like to write at least one “TUFF Puppy” fanfic so I can say I did. In a perfect world I would like to finish the two “Danny Phantom” and “Bunsen Is a Beast” fanfics I started because... I just kind of want to dip my toe in each of the Hartman shows once since I already went through all the effort of worldbuilding for them to make them canon in a single Hartman show universe. “ChalkZone” is another show I adore and might touch someday (You may recall I have a full outline planned for an FOP/ChalkZone crossover ‘fic called “Dust to Dust”).

Will I write all of these things? Maybe not. I have no idea if I want to spend the next 10+ years writing fanfics, or if I’ll simply be done with all misc. fanfics immediately once I decide to be done with my main ‘fics. I definitely intend to write for a few more years and finish my main ‘fics, but I might not go through with some less popular side ‘fics if life is getting busy for me.

===

What is the posting schedule for FOP ‘fics?

Reedfilter Rules, Frayed Knots, Origin of the Pixies, the 130 Prompts project, and “Come What May” are all high priority FOP writings. I will swap between them depending on my mood that week.

Here are some other ‘fics I want to work on.

- If you like, you can send me Asks requesting I work on a specific story above the rest. I will try to prioritize whichever stories interest you guys most.

Snips and Snails is a ‘fic I started and posted the first chapter for years ago. I’m not sure when I will get back to it, as I ran into some writer’s block. It’s still on tentative hiatus for now..... Possibly forever, though I hope it isn’t forever since it’s only supposed to be, like, five more chapters.

Pink and Gray is on official hiatus. I actually have a lot written for it, but I know it’s a little weird to put so much time and energy into Gary and Betty content when... well, let’s be honest: they’re my niche favorites and most of you probably don’t care. So, I am lifting my usual “no spoilers” policy from my Ask Box. If you would like to ask about my Gary and Betty backstory headcanons, feel free. I will tag my replies as “ridwriting spoilers” for anyone who wants to blacklist the tag, and spoilers will be hidden under a Read More line. 

I’d like to return to this story someday because there are tons of things I like about it (ranging from Betty’s secret tattoos to Gary’s plot drama with his mom to the background drama between Talon and Anti-Cosmo, but I always feel immense pressure to make it extra cool to make up for the fact these are weird side characters, so... it’s officially at the bottom of the priority pile. Once Talon shows up in Frayed Knots and readers understand who he is and why he exists, I’ll consider coming back to it.

Identity Theft is a story about Foop and his time in the alternate dimension he was flung into following the episode “Playdate of Doom.” To put it short, Foop was abused by alternate versions of his parents in this dimension and he witnessed some pretty intense stuff, including the death of the alt version of himself who existed in that reality. The trauma he experienced resulted in his alternate personality, Hiccup. Foop himself has very few memories of what happened, as Hiccup has all of those memories. This story is canon in my works, and it is regularly referred to during the 130 Prompts as part of Foop’s backstory. It’s my highest priority side story to work on.

Along the Cherry Lane is a 20-chapter work focusing on the lives of the main human cast from age 11 to age 30, with one chapter showing a snippet of their lives each year. You see Timmy raising Tommy and Tammy in this ‘fic, and it ends with them receiving godparents. Since the 130 Prompts don’t give humans much attention, this ‘fic does. You’ll probably see it debut two years from now, closer to when the 130 Prompts is ready to talk more about humans.

If this becomes a popular ‘fic of mine, I’ll probably write a sequel or continue it past Chapter 30 and write about Tammy and Tommy living with fairies, but I won’t if there’s no interest in that.

Little Imperfections is a Pixie AU ‘fic of mine about what life would be like in a universe where the Fairies are even more like insects than I play them as during my main works (where I already play them as semi-similar to insects). In this world, the Head Pixie is a figurehead whose duty is to reproduce for the sake of the colony and do nothing else, and he’s bored out of his mind until he befriends Sanderson, who introduces him to music. It’s extremely self-indulgent and silly because I like Pixies.

Francis is a multi-chapter ‘fic about bully Francis’s life getting yet another fairy godparent in a long string of memory wipes and godparents. It takes place during the canon series, and when you see an “orange fairy” mentioned in some of my writings, it’s usually referring to this fairy. His name is Rover and I occasionally post art of him. I feel like I can’t truly call myself an FOP fanfic writer until I actually write about a godkid and their godparents, haha...

Hawthorn Haven is a side ‘fic that will be posted towards the end of the 130 Prompts, as it veers off from the prompts in its own self-contained multi-chapter story. It will be approximately the length of “Baby, You’re a Rich Man.”

Acacia Arcadia is a far-past ‘fic detailing the fall of the ancient fae, the imprisonment of the nature spirits, the rise and fall of the chimera nation, the fall of the Martian genies, and the early days of the cloudlands. This is close to the bottom of the priority pile... It’s something I spend time on for personal reference to ensure accuracy in my other ‘fics, but it’s probably not what you guys came here to read.

AA has a bunch of characters in it that you might vaguely recognize, such as Ezekiel Whimsifinado, Evadne, Ione, Two Feathers, Rho, and Sablewood (If you’re astute, you might recall cloudland legends and landmarks in modern day that refer back to these characters). There are also a lot of characters who were reincarnated as Anti-Fairies, in accordance to traditional Anti-Fairy beliefs; Foop for example exists as a main character in one of his past lives, and you’ll see a hint dropped about each of his lives in the first chapter of Identity Theft. My tentative plan is to use Foop’s past lives as my central characters, following the events of each part of the timeline until he gets killed and reincarnates at a later point of the timeline.

I also keep some one-shots in a file I call Mixed Nuts and I may possibly post them someday (they’re mostly just one-shots of main cast characters I do to get a feel for their personalities, I have some Wanda and Cupid in here). @zachbrightside and I are also working on a collab ‘fic called Like a House On Fire that shows more of Timmy and Chloe’s lives during Season 10 (especially around the time of “Which Is Wish?”) No news on a release date for that yet.

-

As I’ve said before, once all my other FOP works are complete, I will write Devil’s Backbone, which is my far-future ‘fic and the finale of my FOP writing. I do not plan to write any more FOP content after that story is finished, as I expect to have all other FOP projects done by then.

- Devil’s Backbone is a finale 'fic, so all worldbuilding from all stories is fair game to blend together, and it’s highly recommended you read everything else first. This story has been outlined since 2016, and it might not be published for another 10 years... Who knows! But it’s something I always work towards as a concrete endgame goal.

- If something serious comes up in my life and I officially decide I don’t want to write this story, I will post the outline for it. The link to this draft is included with all the other Google Docs links I have in a far-future queued post unveiling my WIPs in case I unexpectedly die and you still want to know how my stories would have gone, so you’ll get access to this story eventually even if I die young. Yes, share access is turned on for them all and I do take extra careful measures to be sure that post doesn’t get posted early skldfj

===

What is the plan for the main blog?

Every Friday, I will post either a fanfic chapter or a progress update. You can blacklist the tag “ridlife” if you do not want to see the progress updates on your dashboard. Fanfic updates will not have the “ridlife” tag, so you will not be blocking them.

During the rest of the week, I might post doodles, reblogs, or general comments. Basically... you’ll see the blog become active again. Feel free to send in Asks about my worldbuilding and thoughts on fanfic characters.

@fountainpenguin is my personal blog, so you will see non-fandom things on here sometimes

@riddledeep is my FOP-exclusive sideblog. It contains all my lore notes and goes into a ton of depth, more than my fanfics give in one breath

===

What does this mean for the Riddledeep sideblog?

I really want to go back and edit those character profiles that were posted early by mistake. The reason they were queued is because if I turned them into drafts, they would have been buried all the way at the beginning of my draft collection, and I have many, many drafts saved. There are no page numbers to navigate quickly through the draft collection, so I would have to click through each page one by one if I ever wanted to look at them. I hated doing this, which is why I kept my posts queued.

I was regularly updating the queue deadlines, trying to keep things in the order I wanted to post them in, but Tumblr made a change to the way drafts are dated and it kept throwing off my system. My inability to remember when my queued things would post combined with my busy schedule led to some profiles being posted early and incomplete. I want to fix these.

Over a year ago, my good friend Vulpix150 helped me finalize my designs for the Aos Sí and Daoine Sith. I’ve been sitting on that art in secret for a while, and at some point I plan to post it on the sideblog and talk more about that lore.

Updating fanfics is my higher priority (and it was the priority my followers voted for when I asked you to send votes to my Ask Box a while back). So, I will usually spend my free time working on fanfics unless I need a break from them and want to work on sideblog profiles instead. Thank you for your patience!

===

TL;DR

I’m posting fanfics again soon. I’m going to take a more relaxed approach to posting them. I’m going to post more of what I want to post and what I feel motivated to post, not always a main ‘fic update. If I’m not “feeling it” when working on a draft, then I’ll set it aside for a while unless I know my followers and readers have high interest in the next chapter of that story. I always write for me first, but if I know there are other people who care a lot about a story, then of course I want to write it for you too!

I’m going to embrace my decade-long love for WordGirl and post more ‘fics and art or this fandom. I’ve always been a little shy about doing this, but I’m ready to make it an official fandom on my main blog (unless there are lots of requests for WordGirl things to be contained in their own sideblog). I will be posting the first chapter for a ‘fic called Factor It In very soon. Love my easily frustrated alien kiddos having a long day.

I am working on Creature-Crossing stuff too, and will be especially busy in November and December. Updates will be slow for a few months, but I hope to find my groove and a good pace soon.

Each Friday, I will post either a fanfic update or a mention of what I am working on. I will be checking in on Tumblr regularly. Feel free to talk! I much prefer you send messages to my Ask Box, not my private messenger, please <3

===

Is there a specific story of mine you like and want more updates for?

Asks and reviews help me know which ‘fics people are enjoying. I plan to keep writing ‘fics no matter what, but I definitely give more time to the ‘fics that get more attention (and I have been spending so much time writing for Creature-Crossing because that’s where the attention was coming from)

It’s easy to stay motivated and get the next part of a story out soon if I know that people like it. It’s always harder if you feel like people are silently judging you and ignoring your posts. So, let me know what you’re interested in. And if you only leave Likes or Favorites instead of asks and reviews, that’s okay too! Thank you for interacting anyway and enjoying my work.

Thanks for reading!

[seeds-of-the-garden]

PLANCE SOULMATE AU PLEASEEEE

@ziawushere did you order angst with a side of bi Pidge? Cause uh, that’s what came out of the kitchen.

Happy New Year! Kicking off 2021 with an extra long seed to make things bright.

The ‘Might Be’s and the ‘Hasn’t Been’s

Tequila wasn’t her poison of choice — and drinking alone at the Garrison bar definitely wasn’t her thing — but today, maybe it was needed.

Isabella Anderson. The pale grey letters curled around her wrist, spelling out the name in a beautiful cursive Pidge could never hope to achieve herself. She’d traced the curve of each letter over and over every day for decades, wondering about the woman who wrote it, but they’d never met. Pidge had been in space, fighting a war, and Isabella had been on Earth...dying in it.

She should feel something, right? Heartbroken? Sad? As a paladin, Pidge was one of the few people who could stop the war, so technically it could be classed as her fault. Where was the sting of failure?

Another sip, and the burn made her wince.

Maybe she should feel relieved. She’d never been one for the whole soulmate thing, and it hadn’t stopped her dating in the past. Now she could throw herself into relationships judgement-free. That was a good thing, right?

Instead she just had this weird lump in her chest, and she didn’t know what it was.

“Pidge?” She glanced up in surprise to see Lance slipping on the stool next to her, surprise evident on his own face. “What are you doing here alone?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

He shrugged and signalled the bartender for a beer, settling in with a shrug. “I was meant to be meeting a date outside but got stood up. Was about to head home when I saw you.”

“Oh,” she said, furrowing her brow. She didn’t know who his date had been, but it must have been fairly important — he was dressed pretty nicely in slacks and a button-down, and Lance cleaned up good. Miss Flake didn’t know what she was missing. “Are you okay?”

“It was a blind date.” He took a sip of his beer, then grinned and nudged her elbow. “Besides, now I get to hang out with you.”

Pidge just rolled her eyes and took another sip, trying to hide the wince. “Awesome.”

Something in her voice must have given her away, because Lance’s expression immediately shifted into one of concern. “Hey, are you okay?”

Damn him and his perceptiveness. She shrugged, considering. It wasn’t like he’d understand — not when his own soulmate had walked away in front of them — and maybe it would just bring up old wounds? It wasn't exactly something talking about could fix, either.

"Pidge?" 

He touched her hand, gently, his sleeve cuff grazing her mark, and suddenly she needed to say it.

"I checked the database earlier," she blurted out, fingers tightening around her glass. "The soulmate one they set up after the war."

Understanding flashed in his eyes and he squeezed the back of her hand with a chuckle. "Finally," he said. "It only took you what? Five years?"

Pidge snorted. "Four."

"Still." He took a sip, then looked at her expectantly. "And?"

And? Good question.

Lance was quiet, watching her patiently as she lifted her glass to her lips and forced the liquid down. He wouldn't push her — he never did. In the years since his return he'd been there for every heartbreak, every setback at work, every passing crush on whichever guy or girl took her fancy. And he'd never pushed.

The lump in her chest was still there, heavy and choking, but having Lance with her made it feel more manageable. Stronger. Less alone.

Thank quiznak for his missing date.

When the glass was empty, she grimaced and put it back down on the bar with a soft thunk. “Dead. Died in the first wave.”

Lance made a sympathetic noise beside her.

“I’m not sure how I feel,” she admitted, her eyes trained on the bar-top but one foot absently knocking against his shin. His tap in response was immediate, and she sighed as some of the tension drained away at the contact.  “Am I supposed to contact her family? I should be sad, right?”

What would she even say to her family? 

A glass of water appeared in front of her and she glanced up, offering him a small smile. “Thanks.”

“No worries.” A moment passed and then he shrugged and lifted his own glass, draining the whole thing before slamming it back down on the bar. “Alicia Thornbottom.”

“What?”

“Alicia Thornbottom,” he repeated, avoiding her gaze and signalling the bartender for another. “She died in a camp not too far from here, about a week before we made it back. She was my soulmate.”

Pidge stared at him. “I thought Allura was your soulmate?”

“Nope.”

“But you always said Allura was your soulmate. All those years on the castle, you said it was Allura.”

It had been one of the reasons why she'd never asked him out back then. You don't ask your crush out when their soulmate's right there.

“I lied,” he said simply, apparently happy to ignore her internal blue-screening in favour of watching her over the top of his new beer with a glint in his eye. “You can check if you want.”

“I—” Pidge paused, suddenly realising that she’d never actually seen his soulmark. “Where is your soulmark, anyway?” 

A devilish smirk took over Lance's expression and he waggled his eyebrows at her. “I’ll let you see it if you really want.”

She lifted an eyebrow dubiously. She knew that look.

He winked, making sure he had her attention, then oh-so-slowly tapped high up on his inner thigh. “You only have to ask.”

“Lance!” Heat rushed to her face and he burst out laughing. “What the quiznak!”

He only laughed harder in response, a deep, warm sound, and Pidge found herself laughing along despite herself.  Nine years on and he was still as big of a pain in the ass as when she’d first met him. At least he was better at picking his audience.

“I like to think,” Lance said when he’d calmed down, straightening up in his seat again, “that a girl with a name like Alicia Thornbottom would find me much too crass for her tastes.”

The idea was irritating. “She’d have poor taste, then.” 

If anything, Lance would have been too good for her.

He tipped his glass in thanks. “Nah, she’d just be way above my station.”

“You dated a princess.”

“I did,” he said, nodding sagely, “but Allura would have thrown me across the room for cracking a joke like that. Lady Thornbottom would have had people to do that for her.”

Pidge snorted, her eyes falling on her own mark again. “I never thought that much about mine. Just that I like her handwriting.”

Speculating too much had always felt like a recipe for disappointment, and Pidge worked on facts anyway. The data points she had were few — Spanish forename, English surname, local to the area according to the database, and likely a master calligrapher. Extrapolation pointed to a mixed-race artist, but beyond that it was anyone’s guess. 

And now she’d never know. “I never liked the idea of soulmates, anyway,” she mumbled, eyes still on her mark. “It felt so…”

“Superficial?”

She raised her eyes to meet his, surprised to see understanding there. Though perhaps she shouldn’t be, given what she’d just found out. “Yeah, superficial. Love is supposed to grow naturally, not because some higher power decreed it.”

“Exactly," he said decisively. "My parents aren’t soulmates, either. Maybe I would have loved Alicia. Maybe not. I don’t get to find out, but that doesn’t mean I’ll never fall in love. It just means I’ll have to figure it out for myself.”

Pidge took a sip of water and considered his words. Figuring it out herself hadn’t been going well. “I don’t think you’ll get very far if your dates keep standing you up.”

“Eh..” He shrugged, flashing her a cryptic smile. “I told you, it was just a blind date. Nadia set it up. I’ve actually had my eye on someone else for a couple of months.”

She frowned. Since when? He’d taken up a good chunk of her free time in the last few months, and he’d certainly never bothered to mention anyone over 2am tacos. “Oh? Someone from work?”

“Yeah,” he said carefully, watching her over his glass. “I’ve been thinking about asking her out, though. Gave myself a deadline of next week.”

Pidge’s heart sank. She should be happy for him — she really should — but next week was her birthday, and that would mean he’d be too busy being lovey-dovey to spend it with her if his mystery girl said yes. 

Maybe she should get another drink.

“Why next week?”

Lance drained the rest of his glass and stood up, throwing a few notes on the bar. “Cause it’s her birthday next week. Come on.”

Pidge froze.

She had a mental file of most of the people they worked with, and she couldn’t think of anybody else with a birthday next week. Was there a new girl? No, he would have mentioned a new girl.

That meant he could only be talking about her.

“Come on.” He nudged her elbow, prodding her to stand up too. She lifted her eyes to his, heat blooming across her cheeks, and was surprised to see a blush darkening his own cheeks. “I’m all dressed up to take a pretty lady out to dinner, and there’s a pretty lady right here. Plus you probably really need someone to take you to dinner right now.”

“I, uh…” She was flustered, why was she flustered? This was Lance. “I’m...I’m not really dressed for a date.”

He held out a hand, then hesitated — nervous, she realised. Anybody else might have missed it, but she knew Lance well enough to know when the bravado was a front — and then dropped it with a sigh. “You just found out your soulmate’s dead, Pidge. I’m not going to ask you out on a date tonight. You need some comfort and a distraction.”

That made sense, but she couldn’t help but point out: “Dates are a distraction.”

Lance snorted as she slid from her stool and packed up her handbag. “And maybe I’d want our date to be more than a distraction?”

She looked at him, wondering. Maybe she wasn’t that far off figuring it out after all. 

“I guess I’ll find out next week, huh?” she asked coyly, a smile playing on her lips as they walked towards the door.

He beamed back at her.

“Yeah. You’ll find out next week.”

[ddaenggtan]

Half-Baked Holiday | ksj | M

Granny Park’s Gossip:

That Seokjin, don’t get me started on him. He’s worked hard to open and run that bakery of his, you know, and I’m so proud that it’s so successful now. Wish he would find a nice person to settle down with, though, he deserves it, as long as he’s been on his own. Well, I guess you can’t really call it alone when he’s got that grump of a best friend always hanging around him. He really should be paying her, what with all the time she spends at the bakery with him. She’s always waking up on the wrong side of the bed, but she’s not so bad when she brings me some of those cookies of his, or just around Seokjin in general, if I’m honest. Too distracted by staring at that pretty face of his, I suppose, though who can blame her?

pairing } seokjin x reader

word count } 12.6K { also on ao3

genre } friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, bakery au, fluff, smut, literally the slightest bit of angst

warnings } fluff, fluff, fluff; jin is an idiot and so is the MC, like they’re genuinely both dumbasses but in different ways; pining; misunderstandings; masturbation, spanking, unprotected sex, oral sex - male receiving, exhibitionism a little, rolling pins are used in ways they are not intended to be used; several mentions of jins squeaky laugh and also his red ears bc they’re my favorite things in the world

{ The Snowball Effect Series Masterlist } 

a/n } whaddup i finally finished this thing barely on time so yEET i yet again maintain my status as queen of last minute deadlines!!!! HBH is my Baby, I love it, it’s my perfect shiny garbage baby, and if you like it, you should DEF check out the others!! They can be read as standalones, but it’s really really really really really really highly recommended that you read them all in order, as they all end up in the same place and there are a ton of little easter eggs and references and shoutouts woven into the entire series!!! Extra special shoutout to the authors of all the other stories, @fortunexkookie (ryn), @taehyungforreal (ashley), @stutterfly​ (kristi, who also made the incredible banners!!!) 

You're a good person. You pride yourself on being kind and giving. Every year you make donations to several charities. You help organize summer fundraisers so kids can eat. You buy the most ethically-sourced groceries possible. You leave your change in case someone else can use it. You always tip at least 20% when you go out to eat. Out of everything, though, of all the good deeds you try to do in your life, there's one thing that makes you a truly outstanding human being. 

You don't lose your fucking mind every time the urge hits you. 

"But how many calories are in the Holiday Donut?" The lady in front of you asks. You can feel your eye twitching and even the young guy behind the register is starting to falter in his bright grin. 

"Um, I'm not-"

"Look lady," You cut in. "You have heard about nearly every thing on the fucking menu. It's a donut, stuffed with strawberry creme and coated in colored frosting and sprinkles. How many calories do you think are in it? Just order the banana nut muffin like you always do, get your coffee, and leave, so the rest of us aren't stuck in a line for another hour." 

The lady looks scandalized as she turns to glare at you, but all it takes is a single cocked eyebrow to send her huffing out the door. She mutters a few choice words under her breath as she goes, but you pay them no mind. 

"Your usual is almost ready, Pumpkin." You level Jin with an unamused glare as he pushes his way through the kitchen doors with a steaming tray of scones in hand. 

"You know I hate that name, Spice," You remind him dryly. 

"You know I hate it when you run my customers off with that dark cloud you call a personality, and yet here we both are," he responds. He just smiles at your eyeroll and you do your best to ignore the fluttering in your stomach. Instead you make yourself comfortable on one of the barstools at the counter. 

Seokjin's bakery is as busy as it ever is; several of the tables are taken, either by students on their nth espresso or families doing holiday shopping or people just looking for a place to relax amidst the bustle of the streets. There's someone perched on the stool at the opposite end, close to the register, but you pay them no mind. You're too focused on the mug Jin slides in front of you - green and chipped on the handle, it's your favorite - and the steam wafting up from the cocoa inside. There's a thick layer of marshmallow on the top and a candy cane sticking out, just like you like it, and a Holiday Bagel on a small plate next to it. 

"Thanks. You're still an ass, though." He has the decency to look offended at your words, and you grit your teeth against the smile that threatens to split your face. He always looks so cute when he's huffy. 

"One of these days I'm going to make you start paying for your food like everyone else, and then you'll start treating me right."

"Sure," You agree in a monotone as you pull your phone out and start tapping away on it. "That'll be the same day that you stop asking me to do your books for you because you can't be bothered."

The sigh that expels itself from his lungs is almost as dramatic as the play he dragged you to the week before. 

"I am perfectly capable of doing my books myself, thank you. I let you do it to keep you busy."

"Mhm, sure, I believe that," You tell him. He scoffs again and you barely register the hand he shoots forward to steal your bagel before you're slapping it away. "You don't even like strawberries and kiwi, Seokjin, and you will lose a hand."

You don't look up from the emails you're sorting through on your phone, but you don't have to in order to know that he's got both elbows braced on either side of you. You've known him long enough to know that this is his Pout Stance, and you dare not look up because there's no denying him when he looks like that. 

"You're so mean to me, Pumpkin. All I do is spoil you with good food and perfect company," he whines, "And what do I get for it? Insults and mockery. You could at least give me a kiss every now and then."

You choke on your cocoa. It burns your nose as it starts to come up that way, and the dark liquid dances across your phone screen as it molds to every crack and crevice. 

"Goddamn it, Seokjin," You sputter. He's already holding a cloth out to you, apology written on his face even as you glare at him. You pat your phone dry as best you can before resigning yourself to the fact that it's just going to smell like warm chocolate and peppermint until the next time your best friend flusters you. 

"To be fair, I didn't expect you to be so opposed to the idea," Seokjin mutters. He continues under his breath as you wave off his attempt to help again, something about him being handsome enough, but you aren't listening. Because that's the only real problem between the two of you. 

You aren't opposed to the idea. It's all you can think about most days; in work meetings, while you're doing paperwork, in team briefings, while you watch TV, when you're asleep. What his pillow lips would feel like against your own occupies nearly every waking thought you have. The others are torn between fantasies of what being his would be like and memories of him in general, neither of which you're lacking in.

You've known Seokjin for years. You don't even know how long since you insist you met when you were twelve and Jin is just as insistent that you met when you were nine. All you remember is being alone on the side of a playground playing hopscotch by yourself and then giggling at something the nice boy had said and then the two of you were inseparable. You aren't even sure how long you've felt like this towards him. It could've been high school, when he was one of the most sought after boys in school and yet still made time to comfort you every time a boy rejected you. Maybe it was college, though, when he was further away than he'd ever been and yet always answered your calls and responded to your texts and you'd cancel dates because he had randomly driven up to see you. Maybe it was after, watching him run his own bakery and do what he loves every day with the brightest grin you've ever seen on his face. 

You can't be sure. All you know is one day you were washing dishes in the back after being his guinea pig for some new creation, and he told some dumb joke, and when you turned around to mock his squeaky laugh like usual, you couldn't. Because he had flour on his cheek and chocolate on his lip and you'd never wanted to kiss someone so bad in your life. 

And then it just devolved from there and now the butterflies in your stomach have just set up camp. It's been too long, but you can't risk your friendship with him over some stupid crush. He means too much to you. 

Your eyes don't leave his back as he disappears back into the kitchen, still complaining about something under his breath, and you suppress a sigh. 

Shopping is the worst. You aren't really sure why you're here, because you hate shopping and you hate crowds and you especially hate holiday shopping because it's like Satan himself smashed the two together. You get all your gifts online or early in the year, you don't go anywhere near a mall from October to March, and it works for you. You don't have to deal with holiday crowds. Ever. So why are you on hour five at the largest mall in driving distance with no breakfast, sore feet, and full bags hanging from every possible place they can?

"Does that really seem like something Taehyung would like, though? I got that jacket for him already, I know, but this seems so much more fitting. What do you think, Pumpkin?"

Oh. Right. Seokjin had showed up at Too Damn Early For A Saturday O'Clock and demanded you accompany him for his holiday shopping. 

"I think that if I don't eat something in the next ten minutes, I'm ripping your head off and eating that instead. And for dessert I'll demolish those fancy chocolates you got for Jimin." A passing mother gives you a horrified glance as she ushers her toddler along and you almost wish you gave a shit. It's the mall, she can't control what other people say in this hellhole. You probably could’ve done without the emphasis on Jimin, though; Jin knows how much you worship those chocolates, you’ve said countless times that they’re better than orgasms, and still, he got some for Jimin and not you. 

You aren’t bitter. Or petty. No. You’re an adult, and you’re not going to pout just because your crush got your mutual friends some sweets instead of you.

"If you touch those chocolates, you're going to march your ass right back to that store and replace them while I return all your gifts," Seokjin quips back. You glance over at him and wrinkle your nose at the two berets he has in each hand. 

"What the fuck are you doing, Spice?"

“Wondering when you’re going to listen when I talk to you,” He responds. He holds both of the berets up for you to view more clearly. “Now, which of these is more ‘Tae’ to you?” He doesn’t react to the blank glare you give him, long since immune to your powers of pessimism, and instead just wiggles the berets in each hand so you actually look at them. 

Neither are to your personal taste; one is diamond-encrusted in some kind of quilted pattern, with some kind of alternating animal print as well. The other is more understated, if you can call it that, with a faux-fur trim, a feathered poof in the center, and a truly obscene pink houndstooth pattern to it. You can’t help the wrinkled nose that the two options cause in you, and you ignore Seokjin’s huff of irritation in favor of looking past him to the rest of the options. You only have to look for a minute to find something better suited, which mostly means Jin wanted to give Tae something truly gaudy on purpose. 

“Here,” You say, stuffing the hat into his hands. He stops mid-rant - something about how you should be helping him more, though you aren’t sure why because he’s the one that dragged you here and is lucky you haven’t bailed yet - and focuses on what you’ve just given him. It’s not a pretty beret, by any means, and is by far the cheapest one there, but it’s got some kind of artful splatter across it in greyscale tones, with a pop of red around the rim to accent it. Seokjin just stares at it for a second before turning his gaze on you, and you shift uncomfortably. 

“What?” You eventually ask. 

“Nothing,” He says airily. “Just surprised.” 

“At what?”

“You paying attention to people and being able to buy good gifts.” He puts the other two back into place and heads towards the registers, ignoring your indignant squawk. 

“I get you perfect gifts every year!” You don’t miss his eyeroll, and it makes you want to strangle him a little. 

“I don’t count,” He tells you as he settles in behind some grandmother buying entirely too many things that have to be for her grandkid. “You know me better than anyone, and you have access to my Amazon wishlist.”

“Yeah, except none of that is on your fucking wishlist,” You mutter. He turns, eyebrow arched and ready to get more backtalk, but you just make a face at him. 

He drags you to five more stores after that and abandons you in the middle of Williams Sonoma. You’re on your third lap of the store, ready to disassemble the fancy grill they’ve got on display to see if he’s somehow in there, when he appears, probably from the ether or some shit. You’re still trying to figure out how he managed to phase through time and space and the massive shelf of Martha Stewart Collection Cookware without you noticing, and in the meantime he takes the massive amount of bags from your hands and deposits something in your palms instead. 

It takes you a minute to register the warmth, but the smell hits instantly and makes your stomach grumble loudly. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so fucking hungry. 

“Eat,” Seokjin commands. “We’ve got more shopping to do for the bakery.”

You can’t even argue because your mouth is stuffed full of pizza pretzel bites - the only real reason to come to the mall, in your opinion. You’ve inhaled one serving in record time, and Jin doesn’t even react when you bust into the second one in the middle of some tech store. Instead, he just holds out a hand and waits for you to plop a pretzel bite in his palm. 

It’s hours later, long after you’ve helped Seokjin drop off all the bakery supplies at the shop and carted the presents up to his apartment, that you realize you’re still holding on to the bag from the pretzel place. You’re about to toss it into your garbage when it registers that there’s too much weight for just garbage; curious, you open the bag up and dump the content onto your kitchen counter. 

Inside is a small box of chocolates, the same kind you’d threatened to eat earlier in the day, your favorite flavor and everything, with a small note atop it. 

These were supposed to be part of your gift, but you looked put out when you thought I wasn’t getting you any. Thanks for today. xxSpice

You resist the urge to smile; it’s only right that he give you sweets after the frankly absurd amount of time he’d made you spend at the mall. Still, you can’t deny your lip twitches along with your heart at the knowledge that he’d been planning on including them in your gift. 

And you might tuck the note away behind a postcard on your fridge, but you’re never going to admit to that. 

The next day when you get to the bakery, Seokjin doesn't hesitate to shove you into his small office and push you into his desk chair before he disappears back into the kitchen. The usually cluttered space is empty, devoid of the usual invoices and order forms and whatever the fuck else your best friend keeps on his desk. Even the picture frames have been moved, placed haphazardly atop a filing cabinet. Something flutters in your chest when you notice the one directly facing his chair is one of the two of you.

Taken years and years ago, back when you were first moving into your college dorm, when you were both tired from carrying boxes up the seven flights of stairs to your room. You still remember how irritated you had been when Jin's parents insisted they get a picture of the two of you in your matching university hoodies. You don't remember what it was, but you remember Seokjin cracked some dumb joke or said something ridiculous. He must have, because in the picture, you're looking at him with a softness in your face that isn't present any other time.

Seokjin reappears with a steaming mug and a hand behind his back. The familiar scent of warm chocolate and peppermint hits you, followed closely by the warm-butter sharp-mint honey-glaze smell that you remember taste-testing for him so many times that you're almost positive it’s going to linger on your gravestone.

"That's mistledough." You narrow your eyes, and he rolls his own. His hand pulls out from behind his back to reveal the treat he'd concocted in college and perfected not long after. Shaped like a sprig of mistletoe and a warm honey brown color, the mistledough is easily the best selling product that Seokjin has.

And it's only on sale from Black Friday to the first day of January.

You don't even know what's in it. He's never told you, hasn't let you watch him make it; he'd just show up randomly and shove a weird-shaped treat under your nose and tell you to eat it. And of course you did, because you've been whipped for him since the first day he made you smile on that playground.

It's not important, really. What's important is that he's brought you cocoa and mistledough, which means he's bribing you for something important.

"No," You tell him.

"Please," He pouts. "You don't even know what it is yet." You huff and look anywhere else. His pout is dangerous for you and you know it, and you refuse to be bought for some cocoa and bread.

In an attempt to avoid the puppy dog eyes he no doubt is wearing, your eyes flit around the room. They eventually settle on the mass of shopping bags to your right. You turn, seeing the collection of various wrapping papers on the left and the collection of tape beside them.

"No," You repeat, turning your glare on him. "Wrap your own damn presents, Spice, I'm not doing it for you this year."

"But you do it so much better than I do!" He steps forward, setting his bribes in front of you so the scent wafts towards you that much more. "Your corners are always perfect, Pumpkin, and the edges are so well matched, and you get the pattern to line up perfectly, and-"

"No, Jin," You tell him, already standing. "I told you last year that it was the last time I'd be doing it for you, and that was only because you left it to the day before - again - and had to be in the bakery. I already wrapped all my presents, I'm not doing yours too."

He doesn't even say anything. He just widens his eyes a little and looks down at the scuffed tile floor, kicking his shoe dejectedly against the foot of the desk. There's utter silence in the room, only broken by the muffled chatter of customers and the beep of one of the ovens every few minutes.

You last for a solid ten minutes. You know because the smell of more mistledough fills the air, and you know Seokjin wouldn't try to bribe you with anything that wasn't the freshest batch.

"Why can't you do it?" You grumble, already sitting back down and picking through the wrapping paper.

"I've got like a hundred orders to fill today. That's not even really an exaggeration, either. Soobin's been on cake duty all day so that I can get to work on the mistledough orders and still have time to finish Tae's cake before we leave." You sigh and turn to look at him.

He looks stressed; that's not unusual for this time of year, but it still makes your chest clench. You want to pull him close, run your hands along the furrow between his brows until it's smooth again. Smother him with kisses until he's giggling and happy and remembers that he's a badass culinary god and that he can handle this and that you love him.

"I wish you would tell people no sometimes," You say instead. You slide one of the biodegradable rolls onto the desk and start looking through the drawers for the massive ruler you know is tucked away somewhere. "You can't fill every order. Let people pine for their fancy bread, they don't deserve it anyway."

"You know I can't do that, Pumpkin," He says, breaking off a piece of your bribe and leaning against the tattered desk. "We only just got to where we're steadily in the black, and the seasonal stuff brings in a lot of money. I've got to milk that for as much as I can."

"Yes, because you being overworked and stressed like this is a much better alternative. I'm pretty sure your eyebags have eyebags." You wait for the dramatic gasp, but it doesn't come.

Instead when you look up at him from where you're digging through presents, he's staring at the picture of the two of you. Whatever he's seeing is beyond that, though, invisible to anyone but himself. It's not rare that he gets introspective and quiet; it's actually fairly common when it's just the two of you. You don't know why. You don't want to know why. You just take the moments when they come and wait for him to say whatever he's going to say.

"You're my best friend," is what he eventually says. Your hand stutters where it's slicing paper, mimicking the pang of heartbreak that shoots through your veins. You love being his best friend.

You just wish you were more than that.

"Yeah," You say offhandedly, "No one else wanted the gig, so I guess I'm stuck here." You can feel his eyeroll, but he pats your shoulder as he heads back into the kitchen. When he reappears a while later with fresh cocoa and a bagel, you pretend to be mad that he steals a bite of it until he laughs at your grumbling.

When you leave his smile feels lighter, and you tell yourself you're imagining his eyes lingering on your back as you go.

You’re gonna kill him. You really are. You’re going to absolutely skin him alive, you don’t give a fuck how cute his face is or how hard he makes your heart beat. There’s not a single fucking thing he could say or do that would make up for this. 

Maybe if you hadn’t been out here waiting for nearly twenty minutes. Maybe if your phone showed that he had even opened the last six texts you had sent him. Maybe if it wasn’t Seokjin who insisted on leaving at like ten in the morning to being with, even though you had plenty of time to get there because you didn’t even need to run by the bakery because he’d already put Soobin and Yeonjun through what probably counted as actual military training in order to prepare them for today. Frankly, it’s a miracle Seokjin is even leaving them on their own today, considering how hectic it gets. You’re entirely sure that it’s only because Soobin has worked there since the bakery opened and Yeonjun joined not long after so they both know the ropes as well as they possibly can. And because Seokjin was likely up until an ungodly hour preparing and baking an enormous amount of mistledough for today.

In fact, he’s probably still passed out up there, you decide as you climb out of your truck and head into your best friend’s apartment building. You’re cursing under your breath the entire way, paying no mind to the scandalized elderly gentleman that shoots you a Look. You really are gonna kill him, you decide as you shove the key he made you into the lock and jiggle the handle slightly so it’ll actually turn. You’re going to drag him out of his stupidly comfortable bed and probably try to shove him down the garbage disposal or something. His shoulders may present a challenge, but you are up for it. 

Your mind is so made up that you don’t even register the bags he’s got ready by the door, or the coolers full of groceries that are packed and ready beside them. You just sidestep it all entirely and head down the hall. You don’t even register the faint sounds, muffled by the door to his room, and by the time it all finally reaches your brain, it’s too late. You’ve already thrown the door open as wide as it will go, which means you get a perfect, unobstructed view, even as Seokjin startles and yelps. 

Because of course - of course - he isn’t sleeping or showering or packing. No, instead he’s got his fist wrapped around his cock and is thrusting shallowly into the warmth of his palm. The universe loves to torment you entirely too much, clearly. Why else would it offer you such an unhindered look at the love of your life’s dick?

It’s a nice dick, too. Long and the perfect thickness, a pretty dusky pink head. You can’t lie and say you’ve never imagined what Seokjin’s dick looks like - you basically grew up with him and the others, and young boys talk about their dicks. A lot. Plus, you’ve had a crush on him for several years now. 

You just never could have imagined that it’s so absolutely gorgeous that you can feel your mouth water. It’s impossible to tear your eyes away from it, in fact, until Seokjin gets over his initial shock and shoves his blanket over his lap. 

“What, uh,” He starts, throat rough. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh...you asked me to pick you up, remember? Because your car doesn’t have four wheel drive like the truck.” You learned a long time ago how to avoid being embarrassed around Seokjin, but even that can’t stop the burn in your cheeks as you force yourself to make eye contact with your best friend. It’s a struggle to focus on anything that isn’t the planes of his naked chest, broad and tanned despite the winter weather, but you manage. 

Barely. 

“Right, yeah, but...uh, weren’t you supposed to call? And aren’t you early?” The tips of his ears are as red as your face feels. The contrast between the current situation and his obvious shyness is so endearingly distracting, it takes you a full minute to focus back in on what he’s saying. “--at this point, I mean, I know that we apparently aren’t there yet, but really, I don’t mind-”

“Wait,” You interrupt, “I’m still stuck on how I called you four times, both before I left and en route and once I got here, waited another ten minutes since I got here early because I know you like to be early, and yet somehow this is my fault.”

“Well...you should have knocked! Why wouldn’t you knock when coming into someone else’s apartment or bedroom?”

“Why didn’t you hear me coming? The floor in your hallway is a million years old, it squeaks constantly, how did you miss that?”

“Well, I was a little preoccupied.”

“Clearly.”

“You still should have knocked.”

“Why did you give me a key if you wanted me to knock? And when have you ever knocked on my door when you show up randomly? Besides, I figured you were asleep and didn’t want to wake you up while I took all your shit out to the truck.” His face softens a little, and a shy smile teases at his lips. 

“Thanks, Pumpkin,” he says quietly. Your stomach flips violently at the look on his face and you roll your eyes at it. 

“Yeah, whatever.” You pick up the clothes he already has laid out and throw them at his chest. “Get dressed, you’re buying me breakfast on the way to the cabin.”

He doesn’t protest as you leave him and gather his bags up, balancing them atop the coolers of groceries and snacks he’s no doubt made for everyone. It only takes a little finagling, but you manage to get it all downstairs and into the backseat of your truck. Fat white flakes are falling from the grey sky by the time you’re finished, and Seokjin’s nose and ears are still pink when he eventually gets in as well. You turn the heat up, just in case it’s not residual embarrassment heating his face. 

He doesn’t even say anything except a muffled thanks. After a few minutes, you’ve almost resigned yourself to an awkwardly silent car ride. 

“So…” Seokjin eventually says in a too-casual tone. “About earlier-”

“No,” You hiss before he can continue. “No we are absolutely not talking about what happened.”

“Oh, come on,” He implores as you turn into the first drive-through you can find. “It was bound to happen eventually, considering-”

“We really don’t need to talk about it,” you insist. 

“I’m just saying that I know you aren’t really one for...y’know, sexual activity,” He ignores your open-mouthed gape and continues, “But I have my own needs, and self-satisfaction is the best balance between the two that I’ve found. That said, I’m sorry you had to see it, I know it probably made you uncomfortable. Because. Y’know. Dicks.”

You’re still gawking as he finishes his spiel, and you feel a little like a fish. You surely must look like one, with your mouth hanging open in shock, your eyes as wide as saucers, and the general air of befuddlement that surrounds you. There are so many things you want to say, questions you have, all of them colliding in your brain.

“I like sexual activity just fine!” is what makes it out, just as the speaker beside your window crackles to life. There’s a long, pregnant pause in which you and Seokjin just stare at each other. 

“So...what can I get for you today?” The worker says through the speaker. You want to die, just a little, as you rattle off your order and Seokjin’s to him; the universe hates you, obviously, that’s the only real explanation here. 

“We are not talking about this,” You tell Seokjin firmly as you pull away from the speaker. Your face is still burning, but you refuse to acknowledge it. “You are paying and then we are heading to the cabin and we are not ever speaking of this again.”

He holds his hands up in defeat. You almost believe that he’s dropped the subject, but unfortunately you know him too well for that. Which is why you shoot him a warning look as you pull up to the window and he starts to say something. 

“All I was going to say is that my parents asked about you the other day. They’re mad that you haven’t been by lately.”

“I’ve been busy,” You say as you hand Seokjin’s card to the kid in the window. “I haven’t had time to visit.”

“You visit Jimin’s grandma like twice a week.”

“Yeah, well, Granny Park and I are friends. Not to mention I still have to unseat her as the reigning go champion.” You don’t mention that you’re sneaking her mistledough and cookies so that she won’t blab about the fact that you’re in love with Seokjin. Or that every time you go to his parents’ house, they end up talking about weddings and asking when you’re getting married. You can’t deal with that, not when you factor in your feelings for their son. 

“I’m just saying. You’re like a daughter to them. They miss you. I’m going by there after we get back from the cabin, and I think they’d like it if you tagged along.”

All you give him is a noncommittal grunt and several bags of fast food. You love his parents, you really do. You just wish they didn’t come with the constant reminder that Jin only sees you as a sister.

He lets you eat in silence, though, content to munch on your fries and pretend most of the morning never happened. He sings along to every song that plays on the radio, and it isn’t until you’re about thirty minutes away from the city and doing your best to navigate the roads in the worsening snow that you get suspicious. 

“When you say you like sexual activity just fine-"

“I thought we dropped this!” He sends you a look that just says ‘really?’ and continues. 

“I just want to know what you mean. Because obviously we’re on two different pages.”

“I mean that I like it just fine. I enjoy it, it’s fun, I would like to continue having it in the future. What of that is strange to you?”

“No, I just...I was under the impression that you weren’t interested in that. You never really talk about it, and you’ve never mentioned any...partners, or anything so…”

“I didn’t realize I was supposed to inform you of every person I’ve ever slept with.” You glance over at him, astounded, and are shocked to see that his lips are pursed in a frown and his brows are drawn together. You resist the urge to reach out and smooth the lines on his face. “Wait, are you actually upset about this?”

“It’s just...I’ve told you about every person I’ve slept with.” You wince a little because he’s right. You’ve heard about every single one of his sexual encounters, some of them in great detail, and you do your best not to think about them. “If I had known that you were interested, then-”

“What? You would’ve set me up with one of your friends?”

“Who was the last person?”

“What?”

“Who was the last person you had sex with?”

You look at him again, a quick glance to try to figure out if he’s being serious or not. His face is hard, an emotion you can’t place clear in the set of his jaw and the steel in his eyes. 

“I’m pretty sure there’s an actual blizzard starting around us, and you want to know who I fucked recently?”

“Yeah, I do. Fair’s fair, Pumpkin.” Something in his voice raises alarms in your head. You could insist that you don’t want to talk about it; he’d respect it if you were really serious, you know he would. There’s an edge to him right now, though, one you haven’t seen in a very long time, and you don’t like it. You want to smooth it out, sand it back into the gentle lilt you love.

“Fuck, Spice, I don’t know. That guy from the bar that one night?”

“What night? What bar?”

“I don’t fucking remember, okay? It was like...fuck, years ago, I don’t even remember what he looked like, let alone his name or what bar it was. Are you happy now? For fuck’s sake, I didn’t think I had to report to you every time I wanted to get laid. You’re my best friend, not my keeper. I didn’t think it was any of your business.”

He mumbles something under his breath that you don’t catch; between the sound of the heater going full blast and the Christmas carols he’s got blaring through your truck’s sound system, it’s hard to hear anything. Still, when you glance over at him again, something dark sits in his expression, and you’ve got a gut feeling it’s your fault. 

Things remain tense even after you arrive at the cabin. Seokjin doesn’t wait for you to help him, just loads all of his stuff into his arms and wobbles his way inside while you’re still slinging your overnight bag over your shoulder. The door slams behind you as you enter, caught by the wind of the growing storm outside, and you send what you hope is an apologetic wave to where Taehyung and Star - his girlfriend of forever and one of your closest friends - sit in the den. 

You immediately make your way to the kitchen, swiping a tin of cookies and making hot chocolate, all while ignoring the overly aggressive chopping your best friend is doing behind you. You’re sure Star and Tae aren’t surprised when you flee to the room that you’ve unofficially claimed over the years. 

You stay there for most of the day. The door stays open, just in case someone actually wants to come talk to you; you have no doubt that everyone can hear you cursing at the dog show you’re watching, and at one point you’re pretty sure you hear Namjoon’s voice steer someone away, but you can’t be sure. You don’t even want to be sure. All you really want is to know what the fuck you did to piss your best friend off and get him back to normal. 

You can’t just ask him, though, because he’ll no doubt get even angrier that you don’t already know, despite the fact that you have no way of knowing unless he actually tells you. 

Frustrated, you pick up your phone and flip uselessly through the chat you have with him, trying to find literally any explanation for how he’s acting. The group chat with all the boys plus Star and Cat has been quiet most of the day, only the offhanded comment about someone leaving now or going to be a little late. 

Your chat with just Cat and Star is almost as quiet. There’s a featured video of Seokjin blowing up at Jeongguk a bit too harshly considering the younger had just nabbed some kimchi before dinner, but that’s essentially it. You’re tempted to ask Star to get Seokjin to tell her what’s going on, but not only do you not want to drag her into whatever this is, you also know better. He wouldn’t tell her anything. She isn’t his best friend. 

As much as you’re looking forward to the rest of the night, there’s a sense of dread deep in your bones when you eventually emerge from your room. You only do so because you’re out of hot chocolate and you know that you’ll be dinner if you’re late to eat. 

You wave off Star’s curious look when she sees you; you don’t need her worrying about you, not when she’s got so much else to focus on, if the crutches leaned nearby are any indication. Hobi and Cat haven’t arrived yet, which only adds to the sinking feeling in your gut, but you brush it off. They would call if they had trouble. You know they would. Besides, Cat said they’d probably be leaving late. 

Seokjin doesn’t even look at you as you pass him to get to the dining table, and that hurts more than you’d like to admit. The real sucker punch comes once you sit down, however, when you see a mug of hot cocoa with your signature candy cane placed just to the right of your plate, only to realize that Seokjin’s mug of special coffee he loves so much is placed at the other end of the table. 

Away from you. 

Air catches in your lungs, and it sounds silly that you’re tearing up over your best friend not sitting beside you, but he always sits beside you. Always. No matter what the two of you have been fighting about, he’s always sat beside you because he likes to laugh at the faces you make about the conversations going on, and he feeds you the best bits of meat while you act annoyed about it but secretly love it. 

You knew Seokjin was upset, but you hadn’t realized he was this upset. 

Jimin sits beside you and introduces you to his neighbor, but you don’t even catch her name, just that he keeps calling her Snow and she looks at him like he’s the meal and that there’s a massive purple bruise along Jimin’s neck that you have a sneaking suspicion is her handiwork. She looks vaguely familiar, but you can’t be bothered to place her, not when Seokjin is laughing about something Star is saying and looks entirely too at home down there. 

On your other side, Namjoon and his roommate are talking about a science something or other that they’ve been working on. They’re both so invested in the conversation that neither notice Namjoon dumping the extra spicy sauce over his rice instead of the mild that he prefers. You can’t even bear to listen as he starts complaining to Seokjin that he made the food too spicy and the resulting tirade from the eldest. 

If anyone notices your sour mood, they don’t say anything. It’s not surprising, when you think about it; you’ve long been established as the grump of the group, and you don’t expect that to change, even with the girl Jeongguk brought along that seems torn between whether she actually likes him or not. 

Yoongi catches your eye at one point and you just cock a brow at him. 

“Where’s Jisoo?” You mouth at him across the table. He looks to Peaches, the girlfriend of his that you’ve only ever met once in passing, and looks back at you. You way your eyebrows at him halfheartedly and Yoongi rolls his eyes. It’s disappointing that Jisoo isn’t here. She always provides some sort of entertainment.

If nothing else, she usually provides some semblance of distraction. 

By the time dinner ends, you’re fairly positive no one knows about your spat with Seokjin, or the strange tension between the two of you. You’re sure no one noticed how you didn’t eat much of anything; everyone was too wrapped up in their own conversations and relationships to pay much attention to little old you. 

You really should know better by now.

Jimin doesn’t move from his spot beside you, even as the others begin gathering dishes and your best friend disappears into the kitchen with the promise of cookies and chocolate-covered treats in an hour or two. Snow disappears, no doubt after a silent conversation between her and Jimin, and you roll your eyes at how he watches her disappear into the room they’ve claimed. 

The two of you sit in silence; it’s a game of wits, almost. You know he knows something is up, but you also know that he knows you aren’t one to just offer up your thoughts. But he knows that you know that, and he knows you know he isn’t going to let it go because he can tell something is actually bothering you this time. 

“So are we going to talk about why Seokjin has been so pissy all day and how there’s been a notable lack of Pumpkin by his side, or are we going to continue to pretend that everything’s fine like we did through dinner?”

You wish you were better able to resist him. Maybe your time with his grandmother has weakened you to him, and maybe you should work on being less transparent with him, but either way, you slump in your chair and set your empty mug of hot chocolate down with a thump. You still send him a glare that he smiles through and make a mental note to tell Granny Park that there’s a reason for his sudden need for scarves that she should ask him about. 

“We had a fight.” You eventually grumble, eyes darting to where Seokjin stands over in the kitchen, dipping marshmallows, pretzels, and other treats into melted chocolate. “I think.”

“You think?”

It doesn’t take very long for you to recount the day’s events to him. You even tell him about The Incident from that morning that you walked in on, because once you start talking you can’t seem to stop until he knows it all. 

“And now he’s pissed, I think at me, but I can’t figure out why. I mean, it wasn’t any of his business, but you know how I am with him, so it’s not like I could just not tell him, but I don’t understand why it pissed him off.” You huff a little. The frustration with everything that rolls in your stomach collides with the hurt you feel over Seokjin snubbing you, and it’s so distracting that you almost miss Jimin’s careful whisper of your name. 

“Have you ever considered just asking him?” Jimin says softly. “I’m pretty sure having an actual conversation with him would fix this whole thing.”

“But…” You hesitate, twisting a stray thread from your sweater between your fingers. “Jimin, what if he hates me?” 

There’s a vulnerability to your voice that you hate, one that only Seokjin, Jimin, and Granny Park have ever seen. It’s rare, mostly because you hate feeling vulnerable, but it makes Jimin’s eyes soften ever so slightly even as he bursts into a fit of giggles so powerful that he almost falls out of his chair. 

“This is not helping!” You hiss, shooting a look at where Seokjin is rolling out chocolate chip cookie dough. He doesn’t look up at Jimin’s outburst, but his lips twitch ever so slightly into a frown and the crease between his brows deepens. 

You know that look, too well. It’s his ‘I Do Not Care Even Though I Actually Do But I Don’t Want You To Know I Care” look. You saw it frequently when he first went off to college, when he was constantly worrying about all the boys he left behind in that little cul-de-sac. You really hoped it wouldn’t ever come back. 

“I’m sorry,” Jimin says eventually, wiping a tear away from one eye. “I really am, I promise, I’m just. Oh, I think I might lose a bet.”

“What? How is that helpful, Jimin? Y’know what, where’s that dumb dog thing Yoongi made you, I need to smush its face until I feel better--”

“What you need,” Jimin says as he places a gentle hand on your shoulder to sit you back down in your chair, “Is to stop abusing my lovingly crafted plushies and actually talk to Seokjin.”

“I can’t tell him how I feel, you know this Chim-”

“Did I say confess?” Jimin asks as he stands, eyes flickering to where his neighbor-slash-girlfriend(?) is in their room. “Just talk to him. I mean really talk to him, okay, about why he’s upset. I think you’ll be surprised.”

Jimin doesn’t give you a chance to protest; he’s gone and disappeared down the hallway before you can blink, and you don’t want to know what’s happening in that room. 

Eventually you meander over to where Seokjin is sliding cookies out of the oven, each perfectly placed to allow for the perfect bake. You putter around for a minute or two, opening and closing cabinet doors at random. You aren’t finding anything interesting, certainly not the strength to have this conversation, which is why you’re startled when someone says, “It’s all the way to the left.”

You turn, and Seokjin is absently stirring leftover melted chocolate. When you fail to move, too busy staring at him in confusion, he turns and points to a cabinet beside you. “The cocoa,” He says, “It’s all the way to the left.”

“Thanks,” You mumble as you move toward it. Inside is a box of candy canes and a weathered tin that you recognize from Seokjin’s apartment. Its twin sits in the bakery, right beside the register so that it’s close at hand for when you inevitably come thundering in with a storm cloud above your head. Each holds the special cocoa recipe that Seokjin learned from his grandfather, who learned it from his grandfather. 

You chance a glance at your best friend; he knows how much you love that cocoa. The people in this cabin right now are the only people he’ll make it for - save for Hoseok and Cat, who still haven’t arrived. Seokjin’s ears are burning red, and a weaker person - or at least one less accustomed to him - may have cooed at the sight. But you’ve spent too long building up the walls so that he’ll never find out just what you keep tucked away in your heart. 

“I’m-”

“Sorry.” He finishes for you. “I know you are. And...I forgive you.” You nod at his words; you couldn’t even hazard a guess as to what had actually upset him, but you’re glad he’s forgiven you for it. Still, it nags at you, because what if it happens again? Unlikely, considering you haven’t been able to get laid in actual years because you’re too smitten with the man standing across from you, but still. 

“Are you going to tell me why you were upset, or are you just going to play with chocolate all night?” You eventually ask. He sighs, heavy and long, and turn to lean back on the counter beside you. He’s wearing his ridiculous alpaca apron that you got him for his birthday, and that only makes him more beautiful as he considers what he wants to say. 

Your heart lurches painfully in your chest. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted, and it almost feels like he’s close enough to touch, but you just can’t seem to let your hand reach out to do so. You think if you could, you might be able to grab him and hold on forever, but something deep in your gut stills you. 

The fear of losing him, of losing everything that you have with him right now - late nights at the bakery, shopping for birthday presents, the quiet moments in a chaotic world where you find peace in each other. As much as it hurts to love him, as hard as it is to speak around the words that strangle in your throat that speak truth to every feeling you’ve ever locked in the recesses of your heart, you can’t risk telling him. Because this pining and loving and eventually watching him grow old with someone he loves?

That’s enough for you. 

“I just got jealous, I suppose,” Seokjin eventually says. “I always thought that you weren’t interested in sex, y’know? You mentioned it once in college that you’d tried it, but your little half-frown was there, so I knew you didn’t like it, because you get the same one every time you eat gingerbread because you hate it but you don’t want me to get disappointed that you aren’t eating the houses I make. I just thought it wasn’t something you wanted in life.”

“Um.”

“Which is obviously fine, sex isn’t for everyone, asexual people exist and are valid, as are those that are sex-repulsed, y’know? And I decided a long time ago when I first looked into it all that I didn’t care about sex in a relationship. That’s not the important thing to being partners with someone. But apparently sex is a thing for you, and I just wish I had known that because all this time I could’ve-”

“What, set me up with your friends?” 

“No, definitely not. It’s just that we...I could have...it just hurts to know that you’ll have sex with other people but not with me, even though I respect that it’s your decision to make.”

“What.”

“But I just...I know I’m not entitled to an explanation, but I can’t lie, I would really appreciate one if you can give it. I mean...I dunno, I know that I had sex with other people, but we had that whole conversation in college about it, and you seemed alright with it, so I did. And I always told you about them, because communication and openness is important, and I wanted you to know that I was respecting your boundaries with that while also satisfying my own needs. But it really did feel weird, because...y’know, so I stopped. And I guess I assumed that if you weren’t fucking me, you weren’t fucking anyone.”

“What.”

“I just really care about you, Pumpkin, and I know I know don’t really say it a lot because I’m more of a ‘showing it’ kind of guy, but...I just would have appreciated knowing that. Especially since I’ve always been more than willing to love you like that.”

“Spice,” You say slowly, being careful to keep your face blank. “What the actual fuck are you talking about?”

Seokjin blinks at you owlishly. “What do you mean ‘what am I talking about,’ I thought I was pretty clear. I mean...yeah, I’d love it if you would have sex with me, but that’s your decision, and I’m curious as to your reasoning and logic. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter, which is why I forgave you, because as much as it stings, it’s your choice. And I love you, as you know, so-”

“How would I possibly know that?” Your voice catches a little on the words, probably because you’re having a little trouble actually breathing. Everything is fuzzy and the words ‘I’d love it if you would have sex with me’ and ‘I love you’ are playing on a loop in your brain. Your entire world has just shifted on its axis, and yet Seokjin looks completely unbothered. 

“Maybe because I’ve put up with you so long?” He teases with a fond smile. “I mean, I know we aren’t the type to say the words very often, but c’mon Pumpkin. We’ve been dating since you were twelve, not many would last that long without even a kiss.”

“We haven’t been together since I was twelve, though.” He raises a brow at your confused tone. 

“Okay, thirteen, then.” He says. The confusion on your face must be apparent, because it begins to bleed into his, the beautiful features morphing to mirror your own. 

“Seokjin, I don’t know what you’re talking about. We aren’t dating.”

His expression only gets more confused. 

“Uh, yes we are?”

“Uh, no we aren’t? When the fuck did that happen?”

“When you were twelve, as I said. I asked you to be my girlfriend.”

“I feel like I would have remembered that happening.”

“Then you should go to a doctor, because it definitely did. It was the best day of my life. We were sitting on the playground, it was recess, you were upset.”

“I remember none of that.”

“You cannot possibly have forgotten this!” Seokjin exclaims. “I cheered you up and offered you my cookie, which you ate in like two bites even though I had made it with salt instead of sugar and it had to be disgusting, because some girl had knocked your cupcake into the dirt-”

“Park Sooyoung, that bitch, I remember that-”

“And then,” Seokjin continues, ignoring your outburst, “I was so deeply honored that you ate that disgusting thing that I offered you the equal honor of being my girlfriend. And you nodded and I kissed your cheek and then you punched me in the arm - which hurt, I might add, for days - and then I watched you play Pokemon Sapphire on your Gameboy Advance.”

The memory rushes in, though not exactly how he remembers it. Park Sooyoung had knocked your cupcake out of your hands and into the dirt, and you had been so mad about it that you’d started to cry. Seokjin found you, curled under a tree away from everyone else, and when he eventually learned what upset you, he’d told Sooyoung off like no one had ever seen. And then he’d handed you the best cookie you’ve ever eaten.

You think maybe that was when you first started falling for Seokjin. With the salty cookie that masked the taste of your own tears, and the angry tirade he had gone on despite the two of you not having known each other for very long, with the wide smile and squeaky laugh and ears so red and cute that you couldn’t focus on whatever he was saying and just nodded along to it. 

“Well...why didn’t you say anything since then?” A thought crosses your mind, and it so horror-filled that you have to ask. “Do the guys know?”

“If they do, it’s not because I told them,” Seokjin answers easily. “When you introduced yourself as my friend, I figured you were just a very private person and didn’t want to rub it in their faces or something.”

“Is that why you always drag me along when you, Hobi, Tae, Cat, and Star go out for karaoke?”

“Obviously,” He scoffs. “What could be better than a triple date with your two best friends?”

“Literally anything! Hobi and Cat sing each other the most raunchy things I’ve ever heard, and Tae does all those weepy ballads or indie songs nobody recognizes, and Star’s got those dopey love eyes all night, it’s revolting.”

“You mean like those faces you make at me when you think I won’t notice?”

“I-” You huff, at a loss. “Well what about the other day, with that girl at Mistledough you were flirting with, who was flirting back and-” Realization hits you. “And she’s Jimin’s neighbor girlfriend lady!”

“Pumpkin. Are you serious right now?” He gives you a dry look, but there’s amusement written all over it. “You’ve heard my sales pitch a hundred times. You’ve given my sales pitch a hundred times, albeit with a little more of a monotone and general ‘I’ll kill you’ vibe to it. It was just so she’d buy all the treats I could possibly sell her.”

You make a small ‘hmph’ noise that you aren’t exactly proud of, but makes Seokjin laugh. He pulls you into a warm hug, wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you there. It’s a little awkward, because your arms are still crossed over your chest, but he doesn’t seem to mind and despite all the muttered complaints you give him, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. 

“So…” Jin says in a too-casual tone after a few minutes. You muffle a groan into his chest, already preparing for the worst. “What kind of sex are you into?”

“Oh my god,” You mumble.

“Wait, you’re right, I’m getting ahead of myself.” He clears his throat and stands to his full height. When he looks at you again, his eyes are full of something you can’t place exactly, but it makes your heart skip nonetheless when he says your full name. “Will you do me the honor of officially becoming my girlfriend? Again?”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes and nod. The grin takes over his face is blinding, worth all the trouble from the day, as is the soft kiss he presses to your cheek. You can’t help but huff when he pulls away from it, even, and he raises an amused brow at it. 

“Does this mean I can finally kiss you the way I’ve been dreaming of forever?” 

You do roll your eyes this time, but you let your fingers dance over his jaw and pull him into a gentle kiss. His lips are softer than they look, which you truly didn’t think was possible, and the way they mold and move with yours is warm and tender. You don’t even know how long you spend kissing Seokjin. Time isn’t real, not now, not with him pulling you closer and pressing warm against you like every single daydream you’ve let yourself have. 

Years of repressed urges and desire come out before you can stop them, though. Your hands move down to rest on Seokjin’s impossibly tiny waist, slipping behind his apron to tease at the waistband of his slacks. Why he insists everyone wear nice clothes to dinner, you couldn’t possibly say, but they make his ass look phenomenal so you never complain. 

The kisses become more heated, his tongue dipping out to taste your lips for a moment. Hands find their way to your ass and palm it greedily, and he tugs you flush against him. A hard length is pressing into you, and you don’t have to guess to know it's not the rolling pin. 

Images - memories - flash through your mind of that morning. Your mouth waters and you pull back from Seokjin. Panting, lips swollen from kisses, and half-lidded eyes, he's never looked better. 

"Can I suck your dick?"

He groans low in his throat and his eyes fall closed. "Fuck, Pumpkin, right here? Anyone could walk by." You drop to your knees as your hands undo the clasp on the pants. 

"Doubtful, they're probably having that post-dinner nap, or playing some game." Anxiety pools in your gut; you know quite a bit about what Seokjin likes in bed, but you've never been sure if exhibitionism is on that list. "Does it make you uncomfortable? I don't have to. I've just been thinking about it all day." 

Seokjin barks out a quick laugh and shakes his head. "No," He says, "I definitely would love for you to suck my dick in this kitchen if you want to."

"Good." You flip his apron to the side and tug his cock out of its confines. You don't bother dropping his pants all the way; there's no time, you're too impatient. "Let me know if anyone shows up." 

Whatever he's about to say gets cut off by a sharp intake of breath as you warp your lips around the head of him. One of his hands moves to grip the counter behind him and the other rests lightly on your crown; he doesn't pull or tug, just keeps his hand as a gentle pressure as you sink him deeper into your mouth.

As much as you've never been one for sucking dick, you're in heaven. There's no other explanation for why it feels this good to have him sitting heavy against your tongue as he hits the back of your throat. There are still two inches left so you wrap your hand around it and hollow your cheeks as you pull back. 

A strangled moan escapes him, and his fingers tighten ever so slightly in your hair. Heat floods to your core and you kick yourself internally because you could have been doing this for years. Your tongue darts out to slide teasingly along the underside of his cock and he reflexively thrusts into your mouth. 

You cough a little and pull back, wiping spit from your lips as you catch your breath, and Seokjin is already spewing apologies. 

“I’m fine,” You say as you sit back against the cabinet, tugging him to stand in front of you. His back is to most of the kitchen and your head rests against the hard wood behind you while you eye the hard wood in front of you. “I can take a little bit of roughness, Spice, don’t worry.”

He looks hesitant so you ghost your fingers along his length to tease him. His jaw clenches at the same time his eyes close and you resist the urge to smile. Tension bleeds out of his shoulders and when he opens his eyes again, he quirks a brow in a silent question and you nod. 

In seconds, he’s in your throat once more, thrusting himself in and out at a slow pace that makes you clench with the desire to feel it elsewhere. You hollow your cheeks and suck properly as he fucks your throat, and he muffles another moan.

“Fuck, Pumpkin, please don’t stop,” Seokjin whines quietly. You smile, just a little, and take him back into your throat for a few seconds before pulling back and repeating the process. Each time he hits the back of your throat, he lets out a muffled groan that only makes you wetter. His cock is thick and your jaw aches and you’re struggling to breathe just a little bit, but the fucked out expression on his face is more than worth it. 

Something clatters in the hallway and you freeze, Seokjin’s cock sheathed to the hilt in your throat. His ears turn red and he starts to pull back, but you stop him with a hand on his thigh. He looks down at you, surprised, and you chance a wink that makes him chuckle. 

Footsteps make their way past, giggles following close behind, and you hear the door leading to the hot tub open and close. After a few seconds of silence, Seokjin relaxes, pulling out of your throat. You take a few deep breaths and glance over to the door, curious. 

“Jimin and Snow,” He tells you, one hand absently stroking along your cheek. “We probably shouldn’t use the hot tub tonight.” 

You wrinkle your nose. “Why would I want to anyway? Have you heard Namjoon’s lecture on what could potentially grow in a hot tub if it isn’t sanitized regularly? It’s not a fun lecture.” Seokjin laughs, squeaky and adorable, and helps you to your feet. He doesn’t hesitate to pepper kisses along your cheeks, and you wrinkle your nose even as tilt your head so he can get the places he missed. 

“Now when you said that you can handle a little roughness…” Seokjin says, voice a soft murmur in your ear. You make a small hum of affirmation, encouraging him to continue. “Does that mean I can spank you for not finishing blowing me, or is that something you’d rather not do?”

“Fuck, Seokjin,” You hiss, rubbing your thighs together. “Now you have to do it.”

He’s got you turned around in an instant, your fancy dress pants on the ground a few seconds later. His hands mold to your ass, cupping the flesh briefly through your underwear before letting his hands fall away. 

It’s methodical and slow and torturous, how he peels away that last layer keeping him from your wetness. You know that the fabric is soaked through, it has been since you first got his dick in your mouth, and Seokjin groans at the sight. 

“Even better than I imagined,” He mutters. Your cheeks heat in a rare blush, and you drop your head down between where your forearms are braced against the countertop. His hand smacks against your ass, lightly, and you choke back a laugh. Is that really what he thinks a spank is?

Another slap hits you, no real force behind it, and you scoff under your breath. 

“What?” Seokjin asks. When you look back at him, he’s expectant, like he knows what you’re about to say. 

“Is that what you call a slap?” You ask. He rolls his eyes and pulls his hand back for another. It already looks unsatisfying, and you can’t help but push him a little further. “I always wondered why your dough doesn’t rise high enough. Guess I know now.”

His eyes darken and a chill comes over you. 

“Oh, is that how this is gonna be?” He asks. He gestures for you to face forward again and you do, curious as to the dark look in his eyes. 

Something hard and cold smacks into your ass, and you yelp in surprise. There’s a little more force behind it, enough to sting pleasantly but not enough to hurt. 

“Is that better, Pumpkin?” He asks. There’s a mocking tone to his voice, but when you look back, you can see the slant of his lips and tension in his jaw that shows he’s concerned. The rolling pin from earlier rests in his hands, and it flares something in your gut. 

“Much,” You tell him as you turn back around. He spanks you with it again, and again, and again, and it isn’t until you feel something wet drip down the back of your leg that you remember the chocolate he was fucking around with earlier. 

“If you get that on my nice clothes, I will destroy you,” You warn him. He laughs a little and there’s a thump as the rolling pin hits the countertop. 

“Is that code for get me naked?” He asks, a laugh in his voice. 

“No, that’s code for lick it up and then fuck my brains out.” 

The laugh in his throat quickly becomes a growl and he sets to work doing just that. His tongue runs over your skin, gently lapping at the chocolate there, and several times he gets distracted leaving purple marks in his wake. He even slides tongue along your slit, long and thorough and quick, and you almost come just from the obscene moan he lets out. 

"Fuck, please, I need you," You gasp out. Seokjin slides a hand under your shirt, massaging the muscles in your back as he does, and stands to his full height.

"Let me know if it hurts," He says softly. His voice is a whisper against your ear and it's never sounded quite so wrecked or beautiful. "I'll stop, okay?"

"If you don't get inside me in the next five seconds, I will go ask Jimin and Snow if I can join them in their kinky hot tub," you growl. 

He curses quietly and thrusts his length inside you. Neither of you are quite prepared for what it feels like, and the moment he gets buried to the hilt, he stills. 

"Shit, Pumpkin, I'm not gonna last long," He mutters. You can't even manage words. The stretch is absolutely blissful, just on the right side of painful when paired with the sting of your still-tender ass. He's the perfect height for this, too; perfectly lined up without either of you having to try very hard. 

He pulls almost entirely out, leaving just the dusty pink head you remember inside. There's not even a chance to whine at the loss, because before you know it, he's slamming back in. 

Seokjin's pace is erratic and harried; there's no smooth strokes here. You're both in too much of a rush, too drunk on the pleasure to want anything but release. 

Hands move along your skin, one lifting your shirt so he can pepper kisses along your spine while the other reaches down to gently tweak your clit. 

It takes three swipes of his finger to have your knees shaking with the power of your orgasm. You clench around him and he stills. You can't think, your brain is absolutely fried at this point; all you know is the feeling of him inside you and the disappointing emptiness when he pulls out. 

Warmth hits your back and Seokjin's moans echo in your ears. You're almost afraid to turn around, afraid this is some hyper-realistic dream.

"Shit, hold on, let me clean this up," he says, panting. You can hear him moving through the kitchen and when he comes back, something cold and wet slides along your back. 

You wait patiently as he cleans you up. He wipes away every instance of cum and chocolate from your skin - though he looks a little disappointed to be doing so, which you file away for later. 

"God, that's so much fucking cum," You say, wrinkling your nose at the mass of wet wipes he tosses in the trash while you fasten your pants once more. 

It's just in time, too, as Jimin and Snow come in from the hot tub, smiling and giggly with each other. 

"Ah," Jimin says, looking between you and Seokjin. "I did lose a bet. Damn, she's gonna be so pleased with herself."

You glare at him, but there's no real heat behind it. The two of them disappear to get dressed in actual clothes, and you and Seokjin set to work plating the cookies and treats he'd made. 

You can't stop the fond look at the rolling pin every few minutes. 

Later, after you discover Cat and Hobi have arrived safely and you make sure they actually eat the plates set aside for them, you're on the hunt for Seokjin. He's disappeared somewhere and it's almost time for the countdown. 

You finally find him - where else - in the kitchen, making a horrified face at Namjoon. 

"What? It was good," Namjoon says with a frown. Seokjin just waves him off and Namjoon shrugs, grabbing a couple glasses of champagne and heading back to Slick. 

You sidle up to him as close as you can get and he wraps an arm around your waist like it's second nature. It's surreal, that the man you love is pressing a kiss to your temple and handing you a mug of cocoa. 

"I'm glad we talked," He says eventually. You hum your agreement; you aren't looking at him, just staring down into your cocoa as you absently stir it with a candy cane, but you do lean into him ever so slightly. "Remind me to bake Jimin a cake."

"Why? What's he done to deserve a cake?"

"He helped me out earlier, while I was cooking dinner. Helped me figure out how to say what I needed to, that sort of thing."

Your face shoots up as your heart clenches in your chest. "Jimin," You echo. "Jimin is why you decided to talk about your feelings." Seokjin just nods, eyes wide and not understanding why you have murder in your eyes. 

"I'm gonna kill him so hard-" You say, already setting your mug down and turning to go find that short gremlin and skin him alive. You don't get two steps before a hand comes to rest on your shoulder, heavy but gentle. 

Seokjin pulls you closer to him, a smile playing on his lips as he does. "Why would you want to kill Jimin for that, Pumpkin?"

"Because!" You exclaim. "Jimin's the only one that knows that I-"

The words tangle in your throat, cloying together into a ball you can't seem to unwind. You're too used to choking it down. You don't know how to say it. 

"That you love me?" Seokjin finishes. You can't bear to look at him, huffing slightly as you turn to stare out the kitchen window at the snow-covered trees beyond. 

Seokjin's hand glides down your arm to wrap around your own, tangling his fingers with yours. With a grace you tend to forget he has, he brings them both upwards until he can press a soft kiss in the center of your palm. 

"Jimin isn't the only one that knows that, Pumpkin," He says quietly. You can feel your ears burning, a pleasant contrast from how it's usually him embarrassed and red. 

"Whatever," you grumble, giving up on your mission to brutally murder one of your best friends. Seokjin laughs, loud and squeaky and wonderful, and pulls you into another hug. 

"I love you too," He whispers. "Now, let's go join the others. I believe you owe me several years of kisses."

"You wish," You mutter half-heartedly. He hands you your cocoa and pats your still-sore ass with a wink.

"That's a great move."

"Really?"

"Yes." There's a pause as she waits for you to remove your fingers from the piece. "If you want to lose."

You offer her a weak glare that she ignores as she studies the board. 

"I'm glad that you and Seokjinnie finally got things figured out. It was very cute to watch, but it was getting a little ridiculous, you know." 

She moves a piece, and you squint to try to help you figure out her strategy. 

"Right, it had nothing to do with your bet with Jimin," You say sarcastically as you move another piece. You eye her, one finger still remaining on it, to try to figure out if it's what she expected. 

"Of course not," She says as you remove your hand. "That was merely a bonus." She immediately lays a piece, gaining even more of an advantage than she already had. 

"Well then," You start as you lay another piece, "I'm sure you know all about Jimin and his neighbor, and Star and Tae I don't need to tell you anything about Yoongi or Cat or Jeongguk, either, probably." 

Her fingers hesitate over the piece she's picking up, and her eyes narrow at you. 

"Ah, don't be so cruel. You're supposed to respect your elders, you know."

"Alright, Granny Park," You say with a rare grin as you glance to where Seokjin is baking a ‘sorry we fucked in your kitchen’ cake and decoration some sugar-free cookies for her. "What exactly do you want to know?

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

U N P L A N N E D, part 1

There was one other time when you found yourself like this. Just once. 

In a bathroom stall in your college dorm room, your roommate on the other side with bated breath. What’s it say? She had asked, her voice echoing off the beige tiles that spilled into the messy living room, littered with solo cups and stale tortilla chips.

This time you were alone. No roommate on the other side of the door, no beige tile. Instead, a clean, white bathroom nestled on the third floor of the Los Angeles Facebook office. 

The white plastic stick in your hand, this time, showed a tiny plus sign. A light pink symbol of what was usually happiness. But alone in the bathroom at work didn’t feel like a happy place. 

You stared down at it, wondering if the tears in your eyes were responsible for the blurring of the result. You shook it, wiped at your eyes, and checked again. Still positive. 

So you capped it and tossed it into the top drawer of your desk a few minutes later, more than happy to pretend that it wasn’t a looming disaster. A life-changing, career-altering disaster. 

When it burned a hole in your drawer, begging you to open it and pray that the plus sign had changed, you decided to text Lexi. 

Y/N L/N (3:34pm): Broke down and took a test. 

You put your phone face down, hoping that an impending text from your roommate wouldn’t create a higher heart rate than what was already pounding in your ears. You tried to take a few breaths. 

This wasn’t the plan. This wasn’t the way you pictured life and it certainly wasn’t the way you pictured your summer. When the phone buzzed next to your mouse, you grabbed it so quickly you almost dropped it to the floor. 

Lexi MacMillan (3:35pm): And??

Y/N L/N (3:35pm): Positive.

You stared at the screen, watched as the three dots appeared, disappeared, appeared again, and then vanished. You imagined Lexi sitting on set, maybe in her dressing room or maybe right beside her co-star, typing and erasing, typing and erasing. 

You ignored the email that came through on your computer, likely a request from a team member to edit one of your last images, this marketing campaign is due at 5pm! This marketing campaign was also the furthest thing from your mind right now. 

Your phone started buzzing in your hand, a picture of Lexi with big white sunglasses splashed itself across the screen. You answered it quickly, holding a hand up to your mouth to keep your voice low and your words private.

“Hi,” you said, heading back for the bathroom that was around the corner from your office. 

“What the actual fuck, dude? Are you serious?”

“Yes--why would I lie about that? Do you think I’m that twisted?!”

She let out a noise of exasperation. “No, I just--I don’t know--I thought you were being paranoid or some shit! I didn’t think it was actually possible!”

“Me neither,” you said, shutting the door behind you and leaning against the cool metal. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s alright. People get false positives all the time, right?”

Her voice was suddenly more relaxed than it had been, like she realized how serious this was and how fucked you were. 

“I think people get false negatives,” you replied, defeated.

“Okay, well, you can take another test tonight.”

“Okay.”

“And then if it’s still positive, you have to go to the doctor. That’s the first thing.”

“Right.”

“They’ll do another test there,” she informed you. 

“Uh huh.”

You thought back to your most recent sexual encounter, half drunk and giggly, white linens and sneaking out when he was asleep on top a memory foam pillow. Lexi already made it home, she was high on the couch with a bag of pretzels when you sauntered in at 4am. You made pizza bagels and laughed until sunrise about the fact that you hadn’t gotten laid in what felt like ages. 

I don’t know how you made it that long, she said. You must have an extremely low sex drive. 

Or you just have a high one, you laughed. You’re always horny. 

You didn’t think about it again for weeks. Okay, that was a lie. The drinks were good and the sex had been even better. Lexi had dragged you along to the party even though you knew all the players. You had deadlines for days coming up and a Sunday night didn’t seem like a good time to end up drunk somewhere near Laurel Canyon. But you went anyway.

The first time you realized something might be off was when you were a day late. It never happened. You lived your life on schedule and your period followed the rules--it was no exception. It typically came in the morning, and by bedtime, you were only a bit concerned. You went to sleep with confidence that you’d wake up to it. 

The second day came and went, too. Lexi put on her OBGYN hat and assured you that it was nothing to worry about. Women are late all the time, uteruses have a mind of their own, really. 

Days three and four were busy at work. Five and six were spent finalizing ideas for a new commercial campaign for a product launch, dinner with Lexi and Glenne. It wasn’t until the seventh day, when the light purple app on your phone gave a gentle nudge. Be sure to log your period! 

There was no way you’d miss it altogether. You’d been careful and you watched him toss the condom into a garbage bin in the bathroom through tired eyes. He fell asleep beside you while he traced a circle on your skin--you were sure you’d never hear from him. 

So you slipped out in the early morning light and took an Uber home, knowing that while it might not mean anything, it was at least a story to tell your close friends and to keep tucked away in your mind. 

“Okay--I have to go,” Lexi said suddenly. “Derek’s being a dumbass today and can’t get his fucking lines right, so, I’ll see you tonight.”

“Okay,” you said, voice small, blurry-eyed again. You let yourself slump down to the floor, at least thankful that this time, the tile wasn’t beige. 

You did your best to make it through the rest of the day, playing Lexi’s words over and over in your head. People get false positives all the time! You weren’t so sure, but telling yourself that seemed to quell the nausea. 

Traffic was heavy on the way home, sunglasses pushed up on your face and radio high enough to drown out your thoughts. You parked your car on the same leaf-littered street in Century City, walked the block to your apartment, and dropped your bag on the floor before heading for the bathroom. 

Lexi keyed in right after you sat down, water on to induce the stream of urine that you had prayed for the whole way home. 

“Hi,” she said, pushing her sunglasses off of her face and dropping her keys on the kitchen counter. She let out a small laugh at the sight of you: pants around your ankles, hair up in a scrunchie, pink plastic cap in your mouth as you held the second stick between your legs. 

The afternoon sunshine danced through the window, a breeze from the open sliding door felt like sweet relief in your stuffy first floor apartment.

“Hi,” you breathed out, flushing and pulling up your pants before capping the test and putting it on the counter. 

She took a few steps towards you, her eyes wider than usual. “How long does it take to show up?” 

“I don’t know--a minute or two, maybe? The first one was quick.”

She came over and stood beside you, her eyes on the tiny window where the result would appear. She crossed her arms and leaned over, letting her shoulder bump into yours. 

There was one line forming, like fog fading in the early morning, the other came into view as the two of you stood side by side. You let out a shaky breath--tears in your eyes again when she turned to see you. 

“It’s okay,” she said. “It’s not the end of the world.”

You didn’t say anything in response, but a few sobs escaped through your lips when she wrapped her arms around you. She smoothed your hair with her hand and eventually brought you back to the kitchen, pulling two beers out of the fridge and setting them on the counter as she rummaged through a drawer for a bottle opener.

“I can’t have that!” You said, pointing at it like it was poison, mascara smudged beneath your eyes.

“Oh fuck,” she said, a small laugh from her mouth pulled one from yours, too. “Damn--sorry, it just--felt like a good option.”

“It would be,” you said. “Typically.”

She was quiet for a second. “Is it his?”

You shrugged, staring at the shade of dark red polish on your nails. “Has to be, right?”

“You haven’t had sex with anyone else?” 

She asked as if she didn’t know. You shook your head. 

She sighed. “That, uh, that makes it a bigger deal.”

“I know--I don’t even--what am I supposed to do? Call him up and tell him? I don’t even have his number.”

“Maybe we should call Glenne.”

“No!” You said quickly, shaking your head with force. “Don’t bring her into it yet. She’ll just tell Jeff and I need to figure shit out first.”

Lexi bit her lip, torn between the two options. She’d known Glenne since they were kids, they grew up down the street from each other in Sherman Oaks and when they got drunk enough, they tried to remember the super secret handshake they’d made up in the 8th grade. 

You’d met Glenne plenty of times in college, especially after Lexi became a more permanent fixture in your life. You’d met Lexi at resident assistant training the fall of your sophomore year, but you still had no clue how adults trusted her to be in charge of eighteen students each semester. 

The party was at Glenne’s house--the one she shared with her boyfriend Jeff. You’d met him a handful of times, too, but you typically opted out of the dinner parties or cocktail hours that Lexi invited you to. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t like her friends. They’d always been nice and welcoming, but being the one person not involved in the entertainment industry normally left you feeling like the odd man out. 

What's the latest at Facebook? They’d ask, gathered around a table with wine glasses in hand. 

You’d give them the update, tell them about whatever marketing campaign you’d been working on or whatever new feature you’d helped with, but the conversation always made it’s way back to music or acting or something in between. 

Glenne worked for Apple Music in artist relations, her boyfriend for a prominent artist management firm. Lexi MacMillan, a self-proclaimed B-list actress in a new Netflix series, fit right into their world of Teslas and hedge fund investments. 

She never liked to admit that she came from money, and she was more than humble about the uneven split in your rent or the fact that she often paid for groceries. Your salary at Facebook was good--more than a lot of your other friends who had graphic design and marketing degrees, but it was small in comparison to the type of money the rest of them were pulling in. 

“Well she’s gonna be the easiest way to get in touch with him.”

“I know,” you waved a hand and took a seat at the island. “Just, not yet. I mean, don’t you think I’ll need proof? I can’t just show up on his doorstep and say: ‘hey, remember me? I’m your manager’s girlfriend’s friend’s friend and we had sex one time at your house in late April and now I’m pregnant?’”

She stifled a laugh, nodding as if it was a good idea, her tone completely serious. “I mean personally I would love to see you do that.”

“Well, I’m not,” you said firmly. “There must be rules for this type of shit. I don’t know the etiquette.”

“You mean the baby mamma etiquette?”

You shot her a look, narrowed eyes before you let your forehead rest on the counter, a groan from your lips. “My life is over, Lexi--this is seriously the worse thing that can happen.”

She brought the beer bottle up to her lips to take a swig. “Which is why we should call Glenne.”

“I have to go to the doctor first, okay? That way we don’t stir up any shit without really knowing if they’re right or not.” You motioned over your shoulder to the test you’d left behind on the bathroom counter. The other, from earlier, was still in the side pocket of your work bag. 

Lexi nodded, brown eyes with a new shade of sympathy. 

**

A woman bounced her baby on her knee, big blue eyes looked up at the two of you, nervous and caving inward in the waiting room chairs. 

“Do they all stare like that?” Lexi leaned over and whispered, her gaze fixed on the tiny human beside you. 

“I don’t know,” you said quickly, hoping she wouldn’t make any other remarks. She didn’t--quickly distracted by the nurse who called your name and greeted you both with a smile.

“Y/N?” 

You stood, walked forward and ignored the nervousness in your stomach. Lexi was following behind, she’d been positive and upbeat in the car as if heading over to the gynecologist for what you’d both been referring to as a legit test was a typical Wednesday morning errand. 

“Are you her partner?” The nurse smiled over at her when she pointed at a chair in the hallway for you to sit in. She wrapped the blood pressure cuff around your arm when Lexi pulled her head back. 

“No, just her roommate.”

“Just my roommate,” you nodded, repeating her words as if that’d ease the tension in your muscles. 

The nurse smiled, scribbled a few numbers on a post-it and before handing you a small, plastic cup. You disappeared into the bathroom and realized you’d never thought so much about pee in your entire life. When you were done, you walked back to the small room that the same nurse pointed you towards to find Lexi in the small visitor’s chair beside the paper-lined exam table.

She looked up quickly, a life-like plastic uterus was in her hands. “I maybe broke it.”

“Put it down,” you ordered, rolling your eyes at her childlike curiosity. “Let’s just get in and get out, okay?”

“Knock knock!” A voice from the doorway, Laura Weston, red hair and blue eyes. Her white coat covered a pink blouse, one that matched the color of blush on her cheeks. “Good to see you, Y/N--who’s this?”

Lexi extended her hand and smiled. “Lexi MacMillan, roommate and moral support, nice to meet you.”

“So I hear there’s a possibility of pregnancy?” Dr. Weston sat down on a rolling stool, picked up the chart on the counter and flipped through some pages. She closed it, waited a second, and offered a smile when you didn’t answer. “How are you doing?”

You nodded, licked at your lips, and then met her gaze. “Been better.”

You’d been seeing Dr. Weston for a while--you found her card in the health services building on campus during your Freshman year. Now, a whole seven years later, her smile was a calming presence in a moment of fear and uncertainty. 

“Well, note says you’ve taken two tests, and they were both positive?”

You nodded again. “Just a drugstore brand, though. I don’t know how accurate they are.”

She tilted her head side to side, lifted her shoulders a bit when she rolled towards the counter. “They’re good enough--we’re running the urine sample now and that’ll give a good idea, too. Would you like to do a blood test to be sure?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Let’s do that.”

“Okay,” she nodded, “I’ll have Justine order that for the lab downstairs.” She produced a paper wheel diagram, the colors of the rainbow seemed to distinguish different parts of a typical menstrual cycle. “When was your last period?”

Lexi handed over your phone. “April, the middle of the month. I was due eight days ago.” You pulled up the app that now seemed like less of a friend and more of a source of shame. You were proud of how well you knew your cycle. You could typically tell when you were ovulating, knew enough about your PMS symptoms to know what to expect. 

“And do you know when the possible date of conception was?”

“April 18th,” a tinge of red on your cheeks. “That’s the only possibility.”

So sure, maybe you weren’t the most sexually active human on the planet. Maybe you were slightly embarrassed that the first time you had sex in a good eleven months resulted in a possible pregnancy. 

She scribbled something on a piece of paper, just like the nurse had. A knock on the door that Dr. Weston had shut behind her. The same nurse delivered another post-it note. Pink this time, not blue like before. Dr. Weston took it in her hands and then looked up at you, an unreadable look on her face when the nurse quietly left the room.

“That urine sample read positive, too.”

You didn’t mean to do it again, but another shaky breath left your mouth and Lexi was on her feet, a hand rubbing your back in an attempt to comfort. You wiped at your face, feeling guilty for the outburst of emotion. 

Plenty of people wished and hoped and prayed for this moment. They dreamed about it and tried for years to have this moment. And you’d been stupid enough to stumble your way into it. Ahead of schedule, unprepared, and unplanned. 

“I’ll order the bloodwork and you can do that on your way out--just to be sure. But take some time and when that result comes back we can talk about some options.”

You nodded--her words were a jumble of sounds that you couldn’t really comprehend. She offered a smile and left the two of you alone, Lexi still standing beside you.

“Let’s go do the bloodwork, okay? We can get ice cream when we’re finished!” 

You nodded, wiping your cheeks again before hopping down from the table. You knew she’d keep her word. 

**

The sunny California sky and a cone of soft-serve from McDonald’s made the afternoon somewhat better. You worked from home and went to bed exhausted, almost feeling detached from reality. 

You talked with Lexi that night about having Glenne over for dinner. It’d been a few weeks since you’d seen her, drinks after work one night to celebrate Lexi’s show getting signed for a second season. So when she knocked on the door of your apartment the next evening, Lexi opened it with a big smile. 

“Hi, hi,” she said, opening her arms in greeting. “Look at your beautiful face,” she pinched Glenne’s cheek between her thumb and forefinger. 

Glenne laughed and pushed her hand away, leaning around Lexi’s shoulder to see you in the kitchen. “She’s high already?”

“No,” you laughed, “she just loves you.”

Glenne made her way past her friend, offering you a hug before she set her purse on the counter. She’d always been so poised--perfect, clear skin, hair that was always flawlessly colored and cut. She took a seat on one of the stools and put her chin in her hands, “please tell me you have margarita mix.”

Lexi laughed, rounding the kitchen counter and heading for the fridge. “Oh, do we!”

“Tacos are on the way,” you said, reaching for glasses from above the sink. 

Mexican was always the go-to. You’d moved in with Lexi after college, and when Glenne ended up living only a short drive away, take-out became a regular reason for a get together. 

“How’s life?” Glenne stared up at you. “I’ve been so busy which is why I had to cancel on that movie last week. But--what have you been up to?”

Her question was pointed at you. While you and Glenne were definitely friends, you trusted that she communicated with Lexi a lot more regularly about life updates. 

You cleared your throat, ignored the awkward glance that Lexi shot in your direction when she reached for the tequila above the fridge. “Same old, you know. Just work, and stuff.”

Okay, so lying wasn’t a strong suit. You forced a smile and turned to Lexi, hoping she’d jump in with a hilarious story or funny remark. She was too busy lining up the cups, ready to distribute the liquor. 

You looked back to Glenne. “Uh, I wanted to talk to you actually.”

That got Lexi to turn around. Her eyes were wide, lips parted as if she was thinking oh, you’re doing it right now? 

“Remember in April, at that party--” You trailed off, referencing it as if it was ages ago. 

“The album wrap?”

“Yeah, when I, you know, got laid for the first time in a while?”

She laughed, looking up at you with an amused smile. “Yeah?”

Glenne had been the most excited about your rendezvous that evening. When she’d first introduced you the two of you, she made your promise you wouldn’t get all weird around him. Apparently people did that. You laughed it off and tried to ignore him at the other end of the dinner table--an Italian restaurant in Studio City for her birthday last fall. He showed up twenty minutes late.

Lexi was still now, tequila on the counter, she wore nothing but a pair of shorts and a tube top in the afternoon heat. Glenne was impatient, the smile fading from her face when you broke eye contact with her for a second. 

She tilted her head to the side. “What? You’re freaking me out.”

“I’m, uh, I’m actually pregnant.”

Quiet. Outside the windows, the setting sun illuminated a hazy Los Angeles dusk. Kids swam in a pool at the house next door, their laughter was muffled through the sliding door out to your patio. It felt strange to say it like that. Up until this morning, the word possibly had been sprinkled in, a safe and reassuring disclaimer. 

“You’re joking,” she said, readjusting in her seat, the color drained from her tan skin.

You swallowed. “I’m not.”

She looked over to Lexi, then brought her gaze back to you. “And you’re saying it’s his?”

You rolled your eyes a little. “He’s literally the only person I’ve had sex with in the last year.” Lexi came over to the counter to stand beside you. She leaned forward and rested her elbows on the smooth granite. Glenne just stared at you, still in disbelief.

“I took two home tests on Tuesday and went to the doctor yesterday.” 

What you didn’t tell her is that you cried this morning when the email came through, new test results available from Dr. Weston’s office! Positive. Both the urine and the blood test. There was no denying it now--even if you wanted to. 

“Holy fuck,” she said. “Holy fucking shit. This is not good, you guys.”

“Don’t, Glenne,” Lexi stood back up and shook her head, making a face at her friend. “She’s already freaked the fuck out and she won’t stop fucking crying, okay? She doesn’t need you to add to that.”

You tried to swallow the emotion now, heat to your cheeks when Glenne rolled her eyes.

“I’m not trying to add to it--I’m just--I have no clue how they’ll take that.”

You knew who she was referring to. His team. The people around him who’d made sure, for all this time, that something like this never happened. 

She let out a sigh and looked up at you again. She stood from her seat and rounded the counter. “I’m sorry--I just--are you okay? How are you feeling?” She hugged you, it felt more obligatory than genuine. “You haven’t told him, have you? Does he know?! Jeff doesn’t know!”

“No--you two are the only people who know. I haven’t even told my mom.”

Glenne’s arms still encircled you, Lexi stepped over and hugged you both, a kitchen group hug. “This means more tequila for us, Glenney.”

“You’re fucked up,” she laughed in response, pulling away and looking at Lexi. 

It was quiet for a second, that was Lexi’s cue to make them both a margarita. Glenne went to sit back down, immediately going into business mode when she clasped her hands on top of the counter.

She took a deep breath, you were unsure if that was for your benefit or her own. “So--okay. Where are you at with it all?”

“Are you asking if I’m, like, excited? I am not excited. This is not how my life is supposed to go.”

“Oh enough with the plan, will you?” Lexi rolled her eyes and poured the liquor into two matching glasses, nonchalance lacing her voice. 

“Well forgive me for ideally wanting to find a partner before having a baby,” you shot back at her. 

“That’s not what I mean,” she turned around. “It’s just--I dunno, dude, you’re always so hard on yourself if something doesn’t go according to the plan. I get it--this is a big one, but, stressing over your plan isn’t gonna help.”

Glenne nodded, almost reluctant to side with Lexi. “I’ve heard about the plan. You are obsessed with the plan.”

“I’m not obsessed with it,” you retorted. “I just have a good sense of how I want my life to go.”

Had. You changed the verb tense in your mind. You had a good sense, until now. 

“Well, are you...gonna keep it?” Glenne’s question was innocent, her eyes searched your face as soon as the words left her mouth, she looked nervous, like she didn’t know if it was okay to ask.

A tired voice. “I don’t know,” you shook your head. “I haven’t even thought that far.”

She nodded. “You have to tell him. Have you even talked to him at all since then?”

“No,” you laughed. “It was only, like, a month ago.”

“He didn’t text or call?” she pulled her head back in surprise.

You shrugged. “No. I wasn’t expecting that. Why? Did he mention me?”

“It came up once or twice, yeah.”

“With who?”

“With me and Jeff--and Lexi.”

You turned to your roommate, narrowed eyes when she delivered the drinks. You knew she’d seem him once since then--a brunch one morning before Glenne left town for business. 

“I told you about it--he just said you were nice and that we should all hang out,” she mimicked his accent, earning a laugh from Glenne.

“That wasn’t the first time you met him, though, right?” Glenne pulled the glass to her lips, took a sip and then made a face. “Jesus, strong enough?”

“I figured you might need it since your boyfriend is about to be hella upset.”

“Thank you, thanks for that,” you made a face at her. “But no--” you turned back to Glenne to answer her question. “I met him at your birthday party last year--in Studio City.”

“Right,” she nodded. The doorbell rang and Lexi went to greet the delivery person, or, more so, the tacos. 

“But listen, you can’t tell anyone, okay? I don’t even know what I’m gonna do yet.”

She closed her eyes, made a face that told you it was going to be hard to keep her mouth shut. You leaned forward and lowered your voice, hoping to convey how serious this was. “Give me a few days to just--to talk to him first.”

She dropped your gaze, bit at her lip. You knew it was a big ask. Don’t tell your boyfriend something that is about to make his life a living hell. 

“Please, Glenne.”

She let out a long sigh, one that sounded like it was slowly deflating her lungs, tired and unsure. “Fine,” she said. “But you’ve got to get in touch with him then--like, soon.”

You nodded, Lexi reappeared from the front door with a box in her hands and a smile on her face. “Okay--two for each of us and plenty of guac to go around.”

“So,” Glenne pursed her lips. “Need his phone number?”

**

It felt like one of those dreams you couldn’t wake up from. Like a cloud that looms over the city when everyone is dying for a sunny day. 

You ignored the two phone calls from your mom you got in the span of three days--quick to text her some excuse about work or being busy with something at home. It felt too soon to tell her. You didn’t even know what he’d say or what he’d think or do or feel and the last thing you wanted to do was get a bunch of people involved in this before you even knew what to expect. 

There were a few options, in terms of what his response might be. Glenne had continued to prep you that night in your kitchen, the more margaritas in her the more she accepted that she was now complicit. In moments it felt normal, laughing and talking and then watching a stupid youtube video of some kid falling off of skateboard. 

But when you went to bed and then woke up, realizing that no amount of sleep would change the current predicament, you decided that maybe it was time to get in touch with him. 

You had no clue when or how or where. Over text? On the phone? Lexi agreed that was too impersonal. Out to dinner? Too public. In person? Terrifying, and possibly not an option. 

The truth was that you didn’t know him. He was someone who happened to be friends with your friend. Nothing more, nothing less. At least, that’s what you told yourself when you saw a billboard on the side of the 405 with his face on it. 

So you didn’t know if he’d even want to see you--he might consider you an acquaintance or even a stranger and maybe he had no desire to ever speak to you again.

You went about work and life as if everything was normal. You showered and brushed your teeth and took solace in knowing that whatever form of life was inside you was so tiny that it could just as well be a blip on the radar. 

A story in the future of hey, remember that time, when you were, and then it...

Plenty of people got pregnant and lost it, not even knowing until it was too late. You weren’t sure if you were wishing for that, in all honesty, but you knew that the alternative felt too overwhelming to think of right now. 

But when you found yourself sitting outside in the courtyard on your lunch break, a search typed into the app store for pregnancy tracker, you figured that maybe it was time to bite the bullet. If you were starting to think in terms of what size fruit a baby is at any given stage, maybe it was time to loop him in. 

You pulled up your text thread with Glenne--scrolled up past a meme and a recipe she’d sent you, until you found his name and number. You clicked it once, create new message. 

You stared at the blank bubble. A thousand words and a thousand choices of what to say and how to say it. With a rush of adrenaline, you exited out. Clicked the number again, call now. 

It rang. Three times. Then voicemail. A deep breath, you stood from the bench and started to pace. 

Beep. “Hey, uh, this is Y/N--uh, Y/N L/N. Lexi MacMillan’s roommate. I hope you’ve been well since I saw you, and, yeah--maybe we could get dinner or something soon. My number is--the one I’m calling on, so, I know you’re probably really busy right now, that’s fine. Just, uh, yeah, would love to talk with you. Okay, bye.”

You pulled the phone away from your face and wanted to throw it into the bushes. Would love to talk with you? That didn’t exactly do it justice. 

You let out a breath and clicked it to sleep, hoping that maybe it’d get lost in translation and you’d never have to talk to him or see him or think of him ever again. 

Something told you that wasn’t very likely. 

You went back inside and finished up the day of work, thankful for distraction from Aarav when he found you in the lounge. 

“Did you see the request that Carson sent?” He dropped his laptop on the coffee table and headed for the vending machine nearby. “Not to sound like a dick, but, he’s out of touch with reality. I’m concerned about him at this point.”

“Why?” You laughed, “cause he doesn’t understand that we can’t deliver a whole project with only two hours to do it?”

“Exactly,” he leaned down to reach for the bag of popcorn it spit out. “Hopefully he just fucking leaves and goes to fucking Tinder--he could even go to the Instagram department, for all I care.”

“Levi hates him anyway--pretty sure he regrets hiring him.”

He came to sit next to you and then opened the bag, putting his feet up on the glass table in front of you. “Yeah, well, Levi’s out of here as soon as he gets something with Apple.”

You smirked over at your favorite coworker, knowing exactly what was coming out of his mouth next. 

“And then you’ll get promoted. Much deserved, the queen of saving my ass.”

You brushed your hair off your shoulder playfully. “You’re welcome.”

He cleared his throat, opened up his laptop. “Levi’s great--but if you’re my boss, I’m working remotely two days a week instead of one.”

“We’ll see about that,” you said, giving him the side eye when you looked back to your screen.

You fell into comfortable silence--grateful for the change of scenery from your office that was far enough away from Aarav and Simone, the two people who made work feel like fun. So you got back to the project, sent your designs to Carson when you finished, and prayed that he wouldn’t have a fit over the fact that you didn’t take his advice on using the Aileron font instead of Arimo.

He emailed you, eventually, but you didn’t have time to read it. As soon as it opened on your screen, your phone rang--a Los Angeles area code appeared on the screen and you felt your stomach drop to the floor. You looked over at Aarav. “Sorry--I, uh, I have to get this.”

You stepped away, leaving him on the sofa with your laptop, hand still deep in his bag of popcorn. You swiped across the screen, brought the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“Hi, uh, Y/N? It’s Harry.”

__

table of contents | talk to me + join the tag list

author’s note: Y’ALL. I’m back. As if starting a new story literally DAYS after I finish one isn’t crazy, here I am. Come talk to me and let me know your thoughts or your theories because THIS ONE is gonna be a wild ride. 

tag list: @stepping-into-the-light @thurhomish @afterstylesmadeit @iconicharry @stylesfics-xx @harryspirate @mellamolayla @harryinsweatersandbandanas @stylesfantasy @clorenafila

[aspidities]

Do you ever get writing inspiration in the middle of the night?

Sure, but you can’t trust that. I used to do that all the time, but it wears on you, emotionally, and your writing is sporadic instead of consistent. That’s your brain tempting you into madness. ‘Here, leap out of bed and write 5k words before tiredness overcomes you and it’s 6am’. Inspiration is fleeting and seductive, and it can drain the hell out of you if you wait for those lightning strikes.

Instead, I am very boring. Five days a week, Monday through Friday, I wake at 7am, feed my cats, make coffee, enjoy quite contemplation time and then sit down to write at 9am. I write about 500 words every 20-30 minutes, with a 20-30 minute break in between, for about six hours. I do about 6-9k words this way. Then I take a shower, stretch, do any other chores, and settle in for Netflix and YouTube time. After a few hours of that, it’s now around 7pm, and I sit down again with a tea mug and start editing and sifting through the mass of words i churned out to try and make some decent story out of it. I do that until 10ish, and then I start winding down for bed. I drink water and get a full nights rest from 11-7, and that gives me the energy to wake up and do it all again. The weekends are my ‘off days’ but sometimes if I haven’t followed my schedule or got depressed and delayed some work, then I have to put in some time on Saturday, but never Sunday. You gotta have at least one day to recharge, preferably two.

Of course, I have the option to write like this because I have income from it. Folks with full time jobs? They’ve got to do the side hustle. I’ve done that too. It’s hell. That’s when the 3am inspiration is really seductive, too. Because you think ‘I’m never going to have an idea like this again’ since you’re so burned out from work, and you force yourself to chase it because it feels like an only chance. That’s why I’m grateful I have patreon, even if I have to constantly hustle to put out content and keep my income afloat. It’s way easier to write consistently when it’s your ‘job’.

Whenever you see me frazzled and pulling my hair out over updates, it’s because I’ve avoided following my routine in order to chase a deadline or a fleeting inspiration, and that’s not good. Sticking to a decent writer’s schedule is the only way I can produce as much as I do without dying slumped over my keyboard, face eaten by cats.

I think we as readers and writers tend to glamorize the ‘3am depressed writer life’ because it makes us seem like one of The Greats, a Hemingway or Boroughs in smut form, but all those people fucking died horribly or killed themselves and I would like to retire old and well-fed, thank you.

[rosesisupposes]

108? -C.C.

Lover Prompts: #108 “call my bluff, call you “babe”, have my back, yeah, every day”

pairing: losleep

word count: 1,276

content tags: nonbinary Remy, fem Logan, sleep deprivation, higher education, projecting!

Remy was so fucking tired.

Not that that was surprising. They were trying to maintain a job while taking classes full time. And their program was a lift. They knew this when they accepted, knew what they were getting themselves into.

So really, they had no excuse.

They swallowed a yawn and picked up the next book in the trolley, checking the numbers with a glance and placing it back in the middle of the shelf. God, how were there so many left? It felt like they’d been trundling through nonfiction for forever, and yet the trolley felt basically full still.

This day was never going to be over.

“Rem, is that you?” a soft voice said from behind them. They turned to see a woman in a neat bun and dark-framed glasses poking her head around a shelf. 

“Logan, hey gurl!” they drawled, flipping their classmate a peace sign. 

Instead of being immediately charmed, she frowned, emerging fully around the corner. “Weren’t you here this morning before class, too? It’s nearly 9pm, how many hours have you been working?”

“Ya know, work-study, gotta get that hustle!”

Logan pursed her lips. Even for a masters student, she managed to look more like a professor than a pupil. But that was definitely something to do with her commitment to wearing a collared shirt and tie every day, deviating only to add a sweater in the winter. Or maybe it was the general aura of put-together-ness that so few grad students managed to achieve.

Or maybe it was that ability to look down her nose despite only being just over five feet and making her target feel absolutely scrutinized. Like Remy felt at this particular moment.

“We share a full class schedule, there is no way that you can fit in that, all our coursework, and more than a single shift at the library into a single day.”

“Maybe I’m just that amazing, sugar,” Remy replied with a wink. They hoped it would exasperate her enough that she’d leave and they could just finishing re-shelving. If they finished before 10, they might have time to finish that reading for tomorrow they’d only gotten through half of over a frantic lunch break.

Instead, Logan’s frown deepened. She crossed her arms as she asked, “And are you ‘amazing’ enough to do all that and get a proper night’s sleep?”

“Oh, of course!” They lied. They cupped their face in one hand, fluttering their lashes at the much shorter woman. “You think I get all this without beauty sleep?” Why wouldn’t she leave? Flirting was all fun and games but Remy really needed to finish this.

“I don’t believe you. Therefore, I will help you.” Logan walked over decisively and picked up a book from the trolley, studying the label and the shelf with the same intensity she brought to all her studies.

“Wait, what?”

“You are clearly stretching yourself too thin. Burning the candle at both ends just gets you a metaphorical pool of wax and singed fingers. I care about your wellbeing, so, I will assist you in finishing this task.”

Remy blinked at her. Then they looked down at the book they’d just picked up. The numbers looked fuzzy for a moment, then resolved back into clarity. Oh, yeah, that would be the 18 hours straight of wakefulness making itself known. Maybe bunhead had a point.

“Wait, you care about my wellbeing?”

Logan didn’t turn towards Remy. She just kept shelving, steadily working through the trolley. If it wasn’t for a slight dusting of red in her golden cheeks, Remy would have thought she didn’t hear them. 

“Also, I apologize,” she said, as if she’d responded. “Most of these books were checked out by me, so I am partly to blame for the amount of work you have to do.”

Remy nodded. That part made sense at least. They looked at the titles. “So, astronomy?”

“Yes.”

“…stars?”

“Among other things, yes.”

“Cool.”

“I find it to be quite fascinating, yes.”

“Or should I say, not cool, because burning gas!”

Logan paused in reshelving. “Was that a pun?” She glared down her very short nose. “You better not be a pun person.”

“Don’t you mean a punny person-”

“No, desist, cease-”

Remy grinned. “Fine, I’m done. Too easy.”

Logan sniffed with dignity and kept shelving. Remy resumed as well, and soon the section was complete. 

“I need to move this to history, next, but thanks for the help, Lo.”

Logan shrugged. “I can continue helping, I have no pressing deadlines.”

Remy stared. “You didn’t take out all the history, too, did you?”

“No, but I enjoy- uh, the activity. It’s satisfying, don’t you think? Putting everything back in its rightful place?”

Remy pushed the trolley as they responded, “Yeah, that’s true. Easier to see the physical progress with this than slogging through Levinson’s reading assignments, amiright?”

“Oh, absolutely, and we never even finish discussing the material!”

“Professors, my dude, they’re a trip.”

They resumed shelving in relative quiet, but comfortably so. It was much better than the oppressive silence that was a normal shift in the stacks. 

“How many hours a day are you working?” Logan asked after a time.

“Uh, as many as I can cram in, really. Loans are a bitch.”

“Yes, but you do need to maintain your health, too-”

“I’ll sleep when I’ve got my degree, I’ll be good.”

“Remy, that’s a terrible mindset,” she said sternly, putting a book down to glare. “You’ll burn out and then none of this will be worth it!”

Remy looked down. “Yeah, but I mean. Can’t really afford it otherwise.”

“Pardon my language, but bullshit,” Logan responded. “You’re incredibly clever, there are so many organizations that would give you a scholarship. There’s even a queer alumni group that specifically awards academic achievement in the queer student body, I’m sure you could get that and others.”

“Lo, hun, I’m not exactly Ms. Future Valedictorian like you, I don’t get that sort of thing.”

“Not when you don’t try!” Logan’s eyes were alight, like she got in the middle of in-class debates. “I can help you!”

“I really don’t get why you’re so concerned with how I’m surviving this existential prison we call grad school.”

Logan looked down. A hair fell loose of her bun, a single black straight across her cheek. “I’ve noticed you in class. You barely speak, but when you do it’s always so insightful, even if not phrased as artfully as one could imagine. I think you’re really quite clever.”

Remy felt themself blush. “Hardly, not compared to you. Everyone knows Logan Ngyuen is the one to watch. Hell, if I stay in this program too long you’ll probably be teaching me in five years.”

“I speak the language the professors want, it’s true. But you always bring in the human perspective that academia loses sight of. And I think that’s really important. I think you’re important, Remy. And your health is too.”

Remy wasn’t sure how to respond, so they just shelved another book, sliding it into place. “Thank you,” they said finally.

“Anytime,” Logan responded, her cheeks still a little pink. “Do you need to do anything else to wrap up your shift, or is this the last of it?” Remy looked down and saw that the trolley was finally empty. 

“Uh, just gotta put this at the end of the stacks and tell Ms. Falstaff on the way out.”

“May I accompany you? I’m heading back to the the dorms anyway.”

Remy smiled. “I’d like that. Thank you, babe.”

She turned a little more pink, but smiled all the same. “Any time, Rem.”

[yoonjinkooked]

lockdown | (m) - Chapter 1

moodboard by @flajka

pairing; jungkook/female OC genre; college au, strangers to lovers, smut and tiny bit of fluff too, humor ofc rating; explicit words; 4.900

— synopsis; Eunhee is in trouble and facing a deadline - in comes curly haired jungkook to save her life, make her laugh and maybe, just maybe, fuck her brains out. When the two end up locked in a building overnight, who knows what will happen?

warnings (for this chapter): cursing, OC really wants to murder Tae, banter, cute Kook, slightly cocky Kook, hints of sexual tension. Just an introduction chapter, really. 

A/N: I hope you enjoy the first part guys. I am now starting to work on Chapter 2 and will let you know when I plan on posting it.  Let me know what you think - I’m still a tumblr newbie and basically, I’m crappin my pants. 

With that being said, let’s start chapter 1 :)

In the life of a journalism major, there are a few life-changing, stress-inducing moments that essentially serve as a preview of what’s to come if you do decide stay on your chosen career path.

For me, a handful of these moments made me question anything and everything I have ever known about the career I’ve chosen to pursue back when I was 18 and frankly, a little bit stupid. One of these moments was back when I was doing an obligatory internship at a small, local newspaper, only to realize that the editors and big shots there expected me to do nothing more than to make them coffee and copy papers in their stead.

Another moment was when I attended my first murder trial, which probably would end up being a part of my future job, only to spend the entire afternoon wondering if this really is something I want to do for the rest of my life.

And the final moment, at least the final one that I can think of right now, is currently occurring, with me losing my shit as we are trying to get the final edition of this year’s university magazine ready for printing. And I, as one of two co-editors, will be the one to blame if anything goes wrong.

Half of my grade depends on this. My future job prospects depend on this. Whether or not the professor is happy can influence the direction of my masters’ next year. This is ride or die for me and I am losing it.

“Namjoon, where the hell is he?” I ask my co-editor, best friend and partner in crime. Who also happens to be the only person on this planet who is well equipped to deal with me losing my shit.

“I know as much as you do,” he reminds me, moving the phone away from his ear. “I am trying to reach him now. You panicking will not do us any good and it definitely won’t make Taehyung answer me sooner. So don’t panic and focus on the things we already have here and work with that. The photos aren’t the only thing we need to look over before it’s ready for print.”

I nod my head franticly, knowing deep down that he has a point but also knowing that won’t help me at all. It never does because whenever I am chasing a deadline, I follow the same line of action. Work, panic, panic some more, work, panic like the world is ending, forcefully calm down and then, finally, get shit done. I am not sure if I am on the ‘panic some more’ or ‘panic like the world is ending’ phase yet but as I run fingers through my hair, letting my nerves get the best of me, I am positive said hair is gray.

I hear Namjoon cursing under his breath but for the sake of getting things done, I ignore him for now and simply focus on the task at hand – proofreading. As long as I preoccupy myself with tasks that need to be done, I cannot focus on the fact that Taehyung is late, like he always is, despite it being the one time he truly needed to be on time.

So for the next few minutes, I go over several articles in the speed of light, once, twice, three times. No matter how much they’re using spell-check, our reporters still make mistakes and honestly, when I see my name below one title, I know I am not allowed to judge because I obviously do it too.

Campus activity, student achievements, published works and former alumni ‘look, they’re famous now’ column – all covered and grammatically perfect. And Namjoon is still trying to reach the one man we need the most right now. Slowly but surely, the other students are becoming less frantic and more calm and casual, because their tasks are all but finished. Namjoon, Hoseok and I? Not so much.

“Okay, what the hell?” Hoseok throws his pen rather violently on his desk. “He does this every time. Every damn time. I’m the designer – I need to go over everything and make sure the photos are put where they belong. How can I do that if I don’t have said photos?”

“Hoseok, I know I’m not the textbook definition of calm but we need to try to be,” I tell him, turning my chair to face him over our connected desks. “Try to design it somehow, leaving the space for the photos. Vertical or horizontal, I will find good photos to fit. And if I have to change something, I will.”

“Are you sure you can do that?” he looks doubtful, which is extremely insulting, since we have known each other for three years and have been working together for more than two.

“Basic editing? Yeah, I can do that,” I roll my eyes. “If you doubt my editing skills, you can stick around till midnight to check on me.”

“No way,” he shakes his head. “It’s Jimin’s birthday party tonight and you know I need to be there.”

“Are you serious?” I ask, not even sure why, since it’s absolutely obvious that he is dead serious. “This is the most important edition we’re going to release. We’ve been doing this for years and this is our grand exit, which we need to execute perfectly, and you’re telling me you want to go to a party?”

“I’ll be going too,” Namjoon covers the speaker of his phone to tell me. “Sure, this edition is a big deal and we want it done well but most is already done and this isn’t our entire life.”

“Oh please,” I reach for something, anything, and end up hitting him on the chest with a block of post-its. “You’re just going because you hope to hook up with Hyejin, even though we all know you will just end up drunk, alone and watching her from a distance.”

“How dare you?” Namjoon is flabbergasted.

“She isn’t wrong,” Hoseok chuckles, ignoring the glare Namjoon throws his way. “But he’s right about this not being our entire life. You will burn out, Eunhee. It’s been two weeks and you haven’t stopped thinking about this once,” he tells me, as if I needed to be reminded. “This is the final edition with you being the editor. You should celebrate, not stay here after hours and pulling the hair of your head.”

“With the two of you playing beer pong and complaining about girls ignoring you, someone has to be the responsible one,” I point out. “All of this is riding on the three of us and you’re just… gonna dump me?” the betrayal is evident in my voice and yet, neither one of them is bothered enough to look guilty. Before they’re co-editor and designer, they’re just stupid, horny students.

“It’s already done Eunhee,” Namjoon rolls his eyes. “The one doing the dumping here is Taehyung and you just told Hoseok you can handle the editing. If you’re not sure, you can send him your final version and he can fix it if it needs to be fixed.”

“I am not leaving that party to fix Taehyung’s mess,” Hoseok cuts in.

“Our mess,” I remind him. “We have until 4AM to send it. So long as you’re not wasted out of your mind, it’s doable. If you even need to fix anything. Taehyung is always late but he also always brings more than enough material for us to work with. He’s a jackass but a talented jackass.”

“And a jackass who can’t answer his phone,” Namjoon adds, throwing his phone on the desk, before sighing as he slumps down onto his chair. “I’m going to regret that,” he glares at his phone.

“I can’t force you to stay here and help me,” I mumble, watching as the student reporters casually leave our office space, not even bothering to say goodbye because it’s the final week – who cares, life goes on, we’re going to see each other eventually and our portion of work is done. “I can, however, remind you of this in the years to come, guilt tripping you into doing favors. Many, many favors.”

“You make it sound like you’re not already doing that half the time,” Hoseok points out.

“Not my problem you somehow always end up owing me one. Or two. Or five,” I shrug as I turn towards my laptop, planning on searching for some stock photos we might be able to use, if Taehyung doesn’t show up. I know that he always does, last minute or not, but I can’t leave anything to chance. While stock photos would be a cop-out of sorts, we need to have a plan B.

The next two hours pass in almost complete silence. An occasionally sigh would leave Hoseok and every now and then, Namjoon would curse under his breath as he tries to reach Taehyung for what has to be the hundredth time – so far, to no avail. The panic I felt earlier had already left my system so I was able to focus on other things, all the while ignoring what seems to be our pending doom.

The sun had set and the lights are now on and that son of a bitch is still not answering his phone.

“You know, at this point I’m starting to wonder if we have better chances of finding him at Jimin’s party,” Hoseok breaks the silence. “I’m done with all the pages, I left enough space for all kinds of photos and there’s literally nothing more that we need to do.”

“Speak for yourself,” I mumble as I open the email he just sent me, showing the draft for the final version of the magazine. It looks as amazing as possible, seeing as 98% of photos are missing – instead, white blocks serve as breaks between long rows of text. “You know what? You two go. Go and have fun and if you find him, kick his ass. There’s no way he’d ever miss Jimin’s party. I’ll stay here and finish this up and when you send him to me, I’ll kick his ass too,” I tell them.

“Eunhee, are you sure?” Namjoon walks over to my desks and leans on it, giving me what I can only describe as a look of pure and utter pity. “I don’t want to leave you hanging; you’re not the only one with the responsibility here.”

Seeing as I am the only one that will sit Jimin’s birthday party out, I kind of am, but I do not say it. “It’s okay Joon,” I reassure him. “Go. Have fun. Try to get some with Hyejin. I’ll take care of this, it’s not like it’ll be the first time I pull an all-nighter. Just find that bastard and get those photos to me.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Hoseok stands up and throws a bag over his shoulder. “We will find him and I will do my best to stay sufficiently sober if you need my help. Which, if you do, don’t hesitate to call me, okay?” I nod, knowing I would rather fix it myself than have drunk Hoseok ruin it. He’s majestic with the editing software but when drunk, he can’t even walk straight, much less edit.

“Just make sure to get his USB to me, even if you have to kill him to make it happen,” I remind them. Namjoon is still worried but I roll my eyes at him, which apparently is the sign he needed to get his things and leave. I wave them out, surprisingly relieved to have the office for myself.

I am a decent team player but the last couple of years have shown me that I do my best work when I do it alone. Not to say that I take all the credit – hell no. Joon is the editor as much as I am and half the work is done by him but at times like these, I just want him out and away, busy with Hyejin. This way, if it’s a mess – it’s my mess. If it’s a work of art – it’s my work of art.

With a coffee in one hand and glasses of my head, I go over last year’s photo folder – that’s a better plan B than some basic stock photos. Some of the photos look like a decent backup – our campus hasn’t changed much over the last couple of months, after all. As long as I avoid last year’s seniors, I might be able to pull off plan B without anyone except a handful of us knowing the truth.

Even the swimming team – they have won gold last year, they have won gold this year too. The members are all the same, no new freshmen, no seniors last year. If my memory serves me well, all of them kept their natural hair colors and I can totally use said photo in this month’s edition. Sure, Jimin and the rest of the team will probably know what’s up but that’s nothing a round of beer can’t fix.

Look at me – such a professional. Bribing my way to get the work done. Yay.

In the midst of scrolling, I pause to glance at the clock – it’s almost ten and still no sign of Taehyung. Stifling down the pending panic, I take a deep breath and decide to play some music, hoping to distract myself more. While 80s rock has its charms, I still fidget as I scroll through folders upon folders, grabbing hold of my favorite koala mug again and downing the rest of the coffee in one go. Needing something to distract me further, I open the top drawer of my desk, grabbing the emergency M&Ms I’ve kept there for a few weeks now, knowing I was bound to pull an all-nighter sooner or later.

Just as I down a handful of candy, someone knocks on the office door and I nearly choke. I cough, make sure a lone M&M is not going to kill me, take a deep breath and shout a ‘come in’.

The little hope I have deflates as I realize it’s not Taehyung, the bastard himself – instead, it’s a guy I know, but not really. Tall, wavy brown hair, wide brown eyes and a slightly dumbfounded look, hidden under the hood of his black sweatshirt as he barely steps inside the office, still with one foot out as if he is ready to run.  

I am positive I know him. I’m sure we have class together, or had the year before. Or perhaps we just have classes in the same building – I know I’ve seen him before, in the background, on the side, but for the life of me, I can’t put a face to the name.

“Can I help you?” I ask, once he doesn’t speak up for a few moments.

“Yeah,” he snaps out of his daze, tilting his head before reaching for his pocket – I keep my eye on his hands, half expecting him to draw a gun and shoot me in place. “Taehyung sent me to give you this,” he says as he pulls out a USB stick out of his pocket.

Finally, I can breathe. Finally, I know I will manage to get this done tonight. “Thank fuck,” I sigh, closing my eyes for a second before opening them up again and realizing I have just confused the shit out of him. “I was positive the jackass would leave me hanging. I would have murdered him in cold blood.”

“He’d never do that,” the guy smiles at me, a smile that evaporates as quickly as it appeared; making me wonder if I even imagined it. “If he had told me sooner, you wouldn’t have to wait. He texted me like 10 minutes ago, telling me that I need to bring this to the office.”

“He left the stick with you and didn’t tell you what it’s for?”

“No, he asked me to edit the photos,” he tells me. “Oh. You don’t… I’m the G.C.F guy. I’m the other photographer,” he explains and suddenly, the little boxes in my head fall into their designated place.

Taehyung had a photography partner. I’d say a solid half of the photos we’d print were Taehyung’s, and the others belong to the guy always signed as JJK, G.C. F; I have never met him, never asked for his name and before tonight, he had never showed up in the office.

And now I can remember the guy more clearly – he always had a camera, either hanging around his neck or covering his face as he would relentlessly take photos.

“Ah, now I get it,” I smile. “I’m Eunhee, the editor.”

“I know,” he tells me. “Jeongguk.”

Yep, I know the name. It’s all clicking now.

“Well don’t just stand there Jeongguk,” I tell him as I stand up; I walk around my desk and start Hoseok’s PC, knowing that he has a better editing software ready to go. “I’m going to need your help for this. Everyone else is getting shitfaced at Jimin’s so if you’re up for it, you’re going to be the one to help me get this edition ready by 4AM. You up for it?”

Honestly, I’m not particularly surprised when he doesn’t answer me straight away – it’s not like I’m offering him free food, drinks and a night he’ll remember – quite the opposite, I’m offering him a night full of work. Simply put, I’m begging him to help me, without actually openly begging.

“Sure,” I hear him shuffle around as he puts his backpack down on the ground. “Where do you need me?”

"Just get yourself a chair," I wave my hand around the room, staring at nothing as I try to figure out where should we start from. I suppose that from the beginning is the only real answer to that one. "Hobi had set it all up for me to finish but I think I need to see what you've brought me, see what i have to work with," I decide, turning to Jeongguk, just in time to see him drag Namjoon's desk chair from the corner of the office.

"All of them are edited and ready for use," he reassures me with a tight smile as he joins me behind the desk, a good foot between our chairs. Noticing that he still has his hood up and covering half of his face, I bite my tongue and decide not to wonder why - he has his reasons, I suppose.

"Then we just need to decide what goes where and that is where you come to my rescue."

"What makes you think that should be my call?" he asks, not bothering to hide his surprise.

"Well, you're a photographer," I announce, as if the guy is not aware of his profession. "Doesn't that officially make you a better judge when it comes to esthetic mumbo jumbo?" I ask, because I truly don’t know. I am not familiar with the job requirements a photographer needs to fulfill, other than to have a camera, of course. I simply imagine they have some sense of beautiful. Wouldn’t be the first time I was wrong about something and that is why I ask – there’s no shame in not knowing.

After a beat of silence Jeongguk looks at me, keeping direct eye contact for one whole second, which is time enough for me to conclude that he is cute, ridiculously so. Cute in a way that no man in his early 20s is allowed to be. Yet not cute enough to make me focus on him instead of the task before us.

"I guess so," he tilts his head as i force my jaw shut - now is not an appropriate moment for ogling. "Aren't you the boss lady though?"

"Boss lady," I test the nickname and roll my eyes. "Difficult to work with, perhaps. Bossy? Don’t think so. But I’m taking it because I obviously need your help tonight - I am good with words, not at making them look good on paper."

“What you need to do here is not that hard,” he waves at the monitor and I turn to look at him. “Deciding on which photo should go where depends on… the overall page. The colors, the neighboring photos and countless other things. There are no rules – just feeling. Photography is feeling,” he waves his hands about as he talks, completely immersed in his explanation and making me wonder if he’s talking about this particular problem or just photography and its misconceptions in general.

“No rules?” I ask through a chuckle. “That’s not what people told me when I took a selfie from a downward angle.”

To my shock and frankly, shame, he stares at me in silence, blinking once, twice, three times. I gulp. “That was supposed to be a joke,” I elaborate in a low voice, as I hope that the ground will split in two and just swallow me into a never-ending dark hole. Or that Hobi’s PC will finally be usable.  

“Oh. Okay.”

Well, this settles it then – absolutely no possibility of mild, harmless flirtation. That flat-lined reaction will end up being a source of trauma for me in the years to come – I just know I will end up awake at 3AM in like five years, thinking of how awkward this particular moment was.

“Finally,” I feel relieved now that I can actually work with Hobi’s PC – I slide the flash in, on the first go. I nearly celebrate the seemingly impossible victory but I decide to hold myself back. If Jeongguk can’t take a joke, he will probably think I am insane if I behave like I normally would. “Now let’s see what we have here,” I mumble, opening the pop up. One folder named 1 – I open it. I click on the first photo, of a group of students sitting on grass and talking (looks absolutely staged but based on what I know about Taehyung and his G.C.F partner, they don’t roll that way). I smile when I see a photo of our swimming team huddled up together, gold medals hanging around their necks – I won’t have to use last year’s photos after all. “These are really good. Perfectly edited too. Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, it’s my job,” Jeongguk mumbles as he eyes the photos I scroll through. I can no longer tell if he’s serious or joking and I simply give it up altogether – who cares?

“This will fit perfectly,” I mumble as I finish going through the bunch of photos and end up on the first one – the one with a bunch of people that looks absolutely staged. I exit and go back to the folder, then back to the original one. It’s as if I could feel, actually physically feel, my heart slowly sliding down inside of my body. I go back and open the folder again, looking as the fear slowly grows in me. “Jeongguk, where are the other photos?” I somehow manage to utter.

“They’re all there,” he tells me, his eyes going wide when he notices the look of pure and utter horror on my face. “Taehyung told me you need 20 photos, no more, no less. There are 24, I added 4 more just in case, if you didn’t like some of them… Eunhee, what is going on?”

My chest goes up and down frantically as I try to calm the whole tornado of emotions that starts within me. Panic, worry, sadness and more than anything else, anger. Pure anger. “I will murder him.”

“What? Who will you… Taehyung?”

“I said,” I slowly speak, pausing for deep breaths. “200 photos. 200 photos, no more, no less. 200 from which we would end up using more than 100. I said 200, not 20.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah, oh shit.”

“What… where are you going?” Jeongguk asks as I jump off my chair and nearly fly over the desk to grab my handbag. I throw my phone inside of it and turn to look at him, only to find him flinching away from me. Apparently, I look as angry as I feel.

“I am going to Jimin’s birthday party,” I announce. “Where I will grab Kim Taehyung by the neck, drag him outside, throw him onto the ground and murder him in front of the entire student body. I’m thinking strangulation is the way to go. You should come too, take a few photos of it for the delayed magazine edition.”

“No!” Jeongguk snaps but I am already heading towards the door. His hand wraps around my wrist and he drags me back towards the desk.

“What?”

I don’t know what else to say because why the hell did he pull me like that?! I wasn’t actually going to murder Taehyung, no matter how much I might want to do so.

Jeongguk rolls his eyes at me and I feel even more stupid than he made me feel minutes ago. The nerve. “If you go there and yell at Taehyung, or even kill him in cold blood, you’re just going to end up wasting valuable time,” he tells me. Okay, true, I can’t argue with him on that one. “Not to mention that you won’t get the photos. He doesn’t have them on him at all times and even if he did, they aren’t edited.”

“So what you’re trying to tell me is that I am fucked? Like, missionary, sideways, in the ass fucked?”

“I wouldn’t choose that particular wording, but yes,” he sighs. “If you stay here, you’re not fucked. Just… follow me. It’ll make sense soon,” he seems impatient as he grabs hold of my wrist again and this time, he drags me out the door. I actually stumble to keep up with him, too confused to even ask him what the flying fuck he is doing and where the hell we’re going. He walks fast and with him dragging me behind him, I have no choice but to break into a light jog to keep my arm attached to my body.

Down the hallway and to the left, Jeongguk drags me towards the last door, in front of which he finally stops. He starts fidgeting and feeling himself up and down. It takes me a moment to realize that he is looking for the keys. “What are we doing here, what is this place?”

“This,” he unlocks the door and smiles at me mischievously. “Is my office.”

As soon as he turns on the light, it all makes perfect sense – it’s a darkroom. A darkroom which I had no idea existed, even though I have spent a bigger part of my college education just down the hallway. “Don’t just stand there, come on in,” Jeongguk urges me but I do not move. The hood that still covers half of his face, paired with the room’s red light, is making him look pretty ominous.

“No thanks, these places are as creepy as they seem in movies.”

Jeongguk laughs and shakes his head. “They’re not creepy. Suit yourself.”

“What the hell are we doing here?” I ask, feeling my earlier agitation return. Fix the mess then kill Taehyung. Stopping by a darkroom was not on my to-do list. “How the hell can this help?”

“As I said, this is my office,” he tells me and I see him rummaging through the top drawer in one of the desks that are lined up against a wall. “I keep my work here. Some, not all. Useless work mostly. Random campus photos I take just because I think the moment is worth capturing.”

“While that is very poetic and deep, how the heck can that help us now?”

“Haven’t I just said I take random campus photos?” he asks in annoyance. “I have at least one flash drive with random photos like the ones you might need. I’m a good photographer and,” he waves his hand and I notice something black in it – he walks over to me, takes my hand and puts the flash into it. “I’m the one who will make your words look good on paper.”

It’s not what he said – it’s the way he said it. For the first time tonight, his hood did not block my view of his entire face. The way his eyebrows lifted, followed by a smug smile and head tilt, my heart went into overdrive. His expression and the fact that he is a solid foot taller than I am makes it so easy for me to feel tiny, irrelevant, overpowered.

Despite being the talkative one of the duo, I am speechless for a moment because good lord, does he look hot right now. Like… please slam me against the wall and leave hickeys down my neck hot.

“Come on boss lady,” he laughs down at me. “Work awaits.”

What the fuck happened to the shy guy who couldn’t keep eye contact for longer than a second?! He is giving me whiplash! I again have to run to catch up with him but I do it without complaining, realizing that for tonight, he is my lifeline. This random dude who’s good at photography is my only hope.

Tonight’s going to be a very long night.

[the-blueish-trashcan]

He’s in Charge; Chapter Two

Pairing: Henry/Bertrum

Warnings: [None yet]

A/N: I would like to say that I am not a poet. This chapter includes what is supposed to be sweet, cute poetry. It’s not good. Feel free to skip it. The in-story author of the poem is genuinely good with poetry. I am not. I am the suck poet here. Also.... I had to reformat and post this because mobile tumblr is ass.

Chapter word count: 2,508

{First part} {Previous part} {Next part}

Chapter Two; Bonding

“So with the design the way it is, the person playing the mascot wouldn't really be able to see…” Henry pointed to a sketch in his hand, walking through the warehouse with Bertrum just behind him. “What we could do is change the material in the eyes and make the mask smaller, which would also get this a little closer to the actual model…”

“That may be better than what we have, and possibly cheaper, as well.” Bertrum responded. “We already have a few prototypes in, just back here.” He pointed the animator towards a small room behind some of the game booths.

The room itself was small, with only enough room in it for two or three people at a time. It was dimly lit, as well, only one fluorescent light pinned to the wall with wires exposed. The light, as well as the dirt floor, told Henry that the room was far from finished. Though that’s not what Bertrum wanted him to see; No, the attraction of the room was pinned to the wall, and laid out on the small metal workbench against the wall. Three prototype mascot suits with massive heads and mesh mouths hung from hooks on the wall, one sitting up on the bench. At the sight of them, Henry felt a shiver go up his spine.

“These are… uhm, creepy.” He carefully voiced. “Just, you know… just saying! If I think it’s creepy, kids may not like it…” He justified soon after.

At his tone, Bertrum gave him a strange look. “Don’t be so nervous, your feedback is very important. I was afraid that would be the case, my team just did what was simple at the time. I’ll get them your newer design and hopefully that will yield a more… friendly mascot.” He placed a hand on Henry’s shoulder, causing the shorter man to flinch ever so slightly. “I’ll let you know when we get them in.”

“Are… you going to tell Joey about this?” Henry asked as Bertrum led him away from the room again.

Bertrum waved his hand. “Drew doesn’t know they’re here to begin with, he won’t know I’ve had them switched.”

Henry relaxed ever so slightly. “Good… That’s good.”

“You know, Henry,” Bertrum began, turning to him. “I was thinking about perhaps having other mascots, seeing as you have more than one character. I’ve drawn up concepts for them, if you’d like to look at them.” He paused, but before Henry could reply, he started speaking again. “I know you’re a very busy man, so perhaps we could discuss more over dinner?”

Henry’s eyebrows went up, his eyes widening. “Oh, uhm… sure, that sounds nice, actually.”

Bertrum offered a warm smile. “Wonderful.”

*****

That night, Henry arrived at the restaurant Bertrum specified with a sheaf of papers in his arms. As he stepped in the glass doors, he found the designer waiting for him. He offered a smile. 

“I'm glad you're able to meet with me, Henry. I think it's important to maintain a good relationship outside of the work environment.”

“You know, I think you're onto something there.” Henry returned a hesitant smile as a waiter in a three-piece suit lead them to a table for two. A small menu was handed to them both, Henry setting his papers as far to the side as he could. 

Once their drink and appetizer orders were taken, Bertrum spoke up. “Have you been here before?”

Henry chuckled. “Well, no… it's a little above my normal price range, if I'm honest…”

“I think it's very worth it, the food is as high quality as they want you to believe. The wine, too, if you'd like to give it a try?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, no, no, I don't think so… I don't drink a lot, especially when I'm working.” At his words, he turned back to his papers. “So… I really liked those concepts you gave me earlier, I’ve been working on them for a little while…”

*****

By the time the waiter was bringing the pair a dessert menu, which they both declined, Henry had been rambling for a good hour or more between bites of dinner. Bertrum, however, only looked interested in what he had to say, his chin resting in the palm of one hand and a small smile on his lips. When the bill was placed on the table, Henry idly reached for it. However, a hand much larger than his own stopped him, causing the animator to look up. 

“Please, let me pay.” Bertrum voiced.

“What? No, I can't let you do that, at least split it with me.” Henry tried. 

“I insist, let me. Please?” The gentle look on the man's face contrasted the determined look in his eyes. 

Henry sighed. “Alright, fine… But I'm leaving the tip.”

“Nonsense.” Bertrum waved him off, scribbling on to the paper, then setting a five and three two-dollar bills with it.

Henry tried to hide the surprised look on his face. “You didn't have to do that…”

“And yet I did.” He stated with a smirk.

“I suppose we should get going, then. I really appreciate being able to meet with you outside of work, I feel like I don't have to be looking over my shoulder every minute.” He started stuffing papers back into his folder, throwing a smile up at Bertrum. “Did you want to hang onto these now that I've made some adjustments?”

“That may be best, yes. I can get them to my teams as soon as possible tomorrow morning.”

“Sounds good to me.” 

Outside, despite the papers clutched in one arm, Bertrum held the door open for the animator, who quietly thanked him. 

“I would like to do this again sometime soon, Henry. Perhaps not with so much work mixed in.” Bertrum's hand came to rest on the small of Henry's back, moving down the short sidewalk with him towards the parking lot. 

Henry didn't try to shake him off, but gave him a baffled look. “What do you mean?”

“I simply want to get to know you better. You have a sharp mind, and just the right sense of humor. Surly there’s more to you than ink, paper and cartoons.”

Henry's eyes shifted to watch his shoes. “Oh, you would think that…” By then, the two had arrived by Henry's car, a slightly used white Lambda. Bertrum's hand fell away from his back. 

“Have a good night, Henry.” The designer spoke fondly. 

“Thank you, you too.” Henry responded cheerfully, sliding into the driver's seat.

*****

Two days later, after taking time off over the weekend, Henry arrived back at the studio before anyone else, even Wally Franks. He turned on the lights near his desk and in the break room, immediately going there to make a batch of coffee. 

Caffeine in hand, he set to work, only to find a lone piece of paper folded neatly on his desk. His full name was scrawled across it in elegant letters, ever so slightly smudged. Setting his mug down, he took the paper between his thumb and forefinger, unfolding it. Inside, centered on the page, lines of more precise words. They read, 

Artist's hands, Artist's pens,

do you treat the day so well?

Mind your self, mind your mind,

so you think yourself fair.

In glass, see as one should,

orchid in golden light.

Fire deep in heart, coals go warm,

let one close, without being burned.

Feel your warmth, through the nights,

linen cold no longer.

At peace, we rest, perhaps soon together.

Henry tilted his head at the words, not quite sure what to make of them. He had a vague idea of what it could all mean, but even so, why had someone given it to him? And with the paper unsigned, it just confused him more. Briefly, he considered Bertrum, who he'd had dinner with recently, but… No, he couldn't think of why the designer would write something like that for him, of all people. He also considered it a mistake, but his name on the front said otherwise. He shook his head, folding the paper back up and setting it on the shelf below his workspace. He had other things to worry about for the time being. 

*****

By mid morning, most of the other staff members had arrived. He could tell just by the noise starting up in the studio, between the projectors and the faint sounds of the music department below. Having the time to work uninterrupted was a blessing to him, but that all ended when a familiar voice came up the hall. 

“Henry!” Joey chimed, approaching the desk. “How's the new episode coming along?”

Henry sighed internally, but didn't turn around. He felt Joey lean over his shoulder to watch him work. “It's coming along just fine, Mister Drew. Right on schedule.”

“Great! Glad to hear it's nearly done, then!” Joey made to walk off, but Henry whipped around. 

“What do you mean? I'm only half done with this, there's another two weeks before the deadline...”

Joey blinked. “No, the deadline's in four days. I told you about that, didn't I? We're a little strapped for cash, we need to put the episodes out faster.”

Henry sighed outwardly this time, through his nose. “I think you failed to mention it.”

“Hm. Oh well. Just keep at it! Work hard, work happy! Then I won't have to dock your pay.” The last line he spoke was much darker, more serious than the jaunty voice he normally used. It made Henry flinch, but then he was alone at his desk again. He struggled to make ends meet as it was, he couldn't afford an argument with Joey.

*****

Henry decided against taking a lunch hour, instead trying his hardest to get his work done. He'd already accepted that he would probably be spending a good amount of the night there as well. 

“Heya, Henry!” A Brooklyn accent called across from Henry's desk.

Knowing the voice, Henry waved without looking up. “Hi, Wally. How are you?” 

“Same ol’, same ol’, different day.” Wally moved closer to the animator so he wouldn't have to raise his voice as much. 

“Hey, by any chance, did you see anyone around my desk while I wasn't here? Someone left this for me and I can't figure out who.” Then, Henry set down his pen and held the letter up for Wally to see. 

Wally's bright green eyes squinted as he leaned closer. “I didn’ see anybody over hea, no. What's it say?”

Henry's face flushed a bit. “It's a poem. I'm not sure I'm interpreting it right, but…” He trailed off, allowing the janitor to take it and read over it. 

“I can tell ya this; I ain't the smartest, but ta me, this sounds like somebody's sweet on ya. You dunno who wrote it?”

“Not a clue.” Henry replied convincingly.

“Maybe it was one'a the gals downstairs. Th’ writin’ sure looks like it.”

“You really think?”

“Yeah, any’a th’ girls downstairs left-handed?”

Henry tilted his head. “Does that matter?”

Wally nodded. “Yeah, lookit th’ way th’ ink’s smudged.” Henry looked at the letter again. “Whoeva wrote it did it with their left hand.” To emphasize, he held up his gloved left hand and wiggled his fingers.

“You know, you may be onto something there, Wally.” Henry tilted his head, hoping the janitor really was.

“Yep! And tha’s my one good idea for th’ day, don’ ask me for anythin’ else!” The janitor gave a wink, making Henry let out a hardy laugh.

*****

By nearly ten that night, Henry found himself making decent progress on the newest cartoon. However, it came at the price of feeling relaxed, or rested. His eyes burned, and a deep ache went all the way up from his hips to the base of his skull. The only light left on was the one above his desk, one of his hands gripped his hair while the other inked in his sketches. He was focused so hard on the drawing in front of him that he didn’t notice the heavy footsteps coming closer. A voice caught his attention, but didn’t pull it away.

“Still working?” Bertrum questioned.

“I have to.” Henry replied numbly. 

The designer hummed. “You look awfully tense. When was the last time you had a break?”

“I couldn’t take breaks today.” Henry shook his head ever so slightly. When hands landed on both his shoulders, though, he froze, sitting back from his work. 

“You’re taking one now.”As Bertrum began to gently massage his shoulders and neck, Henry felt himself practically melt. He let his hands fall into his lap, his eyes closing. After a few long, silent moments, Bertrum spoke again. “Go home. You need sleep.”

“Well so do you.” Henry countered, turning in his chair. 

Instead of his usual suit, Bertrum was wearing a plain white t-shirt, which he’d obviously sweated through. His arms and clothes were smeared with dirt, and what could have been ink or machine oil. Dressed in such a way, it was easy to see that his normally formal clothes hid well-toned muscles. “Yes, I know… I was just on my way out. Walk with me?”

“I really can’t…” The animator sighed.

Bertrum’s expression turned firm. “You can’t stay here all night.”

Henry shrugged in return. “I have before, it’s not a big deal. I have a deadline to meet.”

“You’re practically falling asleep in front of me. Go home, Henry. No deadline can be that important. What’s Drew going to do if you miss it?”

“Dock my pay.” Henry mumbled. 

At that point, Bertrum leaned down to meet his eyes, a hand on his shoulder again. “So you leave, and take your characters with you. Suddenly he has no animator, no cartoons, and you have plenty of companies that want you. Right?”

Henry’s gaze shifted away. “I’d need a really good lawyer if I want my characters back, and no one’s even heard of me.”

“Sue Drew, and everyone will know your name. Besides, if you need a lawyer, I could provide you with one.”

Henry tilted his head. “Why would you do that? No, you know what, I shouldn’t even be considering this. I have work to do. I really appreciate your concern, but-”

“Don’t make me carry you out of here.” He snapped.

“Excuse me?” Henry's voice become more confused than upset.

“If I must, I will.” Bertrum crossed his arms.

“I don't think you even could. Please, just leave me be. I'll be fine, you should go home.” Henry’s last attempt had him waving off the whole thing. It seemed his insistence paid off, as well. Bertrum sighed.

“Fine. But do, please, go home soon. Good night, Henry.”

“Good night, Bertrum.” It was only after the designer had left and Henry had gone back to work that something clicked in his mind. Though no one was around to lighten, he spoke aloud. “What was he even doing up here so late if he didn’t know I was here?”

[visionsofus]

MIT, Time Travel and oh mY GOD IT’S PETER PARKER

see the first story here, or start the sequel on ao3 and you’ll receive my eternal love and devotion!

if you’d like to be tagged for updates let me know!

| CHAPTER 2 |

"You eat instant food how many times a week?" Happy Hogan choked out spinning to face Peter. He looked slightly aghast.

After getting his bus Peter had met Happy at the airport and they had both proceeded onto the Stark Industries jet. They had just landed in New York after an uneventful hour-long flight from Boston.

"Um…" Peter said thinking about it for a second as he hefted his duffle bag over his shoulder. "Probably like five nights a week? Depends on my work load and if anyone is cooking in the flat."

"Five nights-" Happy sputtered and shook his head. "Peter, just because you have a fast metabolism doesn't mean you can eat microwave food every night!"

"I know, I know." Peter said following Happy down the stairs that lead from the jet to the tarmac of the air strip. "Please don't tell May."

"You bet I'm telling her, right after I cook a nice lasagne so you can have something real to eat." Happy said shaking his head as he led Peter over to the car which was ready waiting for them.

"You cook?" Peter said, his tone disbelieving.

"No need to sound so surprised." Happy grumbled opening the driver’s side of the car.

"I didn't-" Peter said stopping by the passenger door and raising his hands in defence but grinning nonetheless.

"I'll have you know your aunt loves my cooking." Happy said pointing a joking, yet simultaneously accusatory finger at Peter.

"Yeah yeah, I don't need to hear anything else about that." Peter said surrendering and getting into the car.

"That's what I thought." Happy muttered triumphantly starting the car’s engine and pulling away from the air strip. Despite himself, Happy smiled sideways at Peter. "It's good to have you back kid."

Peter grinned in return. This drive had become routine for Peter since he had moved to MIT. Each weekend, or at least every other if he didn't have the time to spare, Happy would fly down to Massachusetts to pick Peter up. The routine worked remarkably well, on most Friday’s Peter’s last class was at 11am so he pretty much had the whole afternoon to get back to New York. Peter wasn't entirely sure why Happy came himself when there was likely any number of other SI staff members who could make the trip. Peter couldn’t help the guilt that he felt each time they made the journey and had tried to convince Pepper that he was just as useful in Massachusetts as he was in New York. Pepper tried her best to assure Peter that it wasn't a hassle and for his part, Peter tried not to let it bother him.

"Anything been happening in New York that I've missed?" Peter asked shifting in the comfortable seat and turning his head to watch the familiar scenery flash past.

"Not really, things have been quite busy with everything happening this weekend - speaking of which…" Happy said almost to himself, flicking on the indicator and switching lanes.

"Whattt…." Peter began and watched as the car diverted from the familiar route that they normally took.

"Pepper needed me to pick up Morgan after I picked you up." Happy explained indicating again and changing lanes before pressing his foot to the accelerator - sending them down the highway at a speed that made even Peter's teeth chatter a little.

The drive passed quickly, and not just because of Happy's driving. Everything seemed to be moving fast for Peter these days - all his deadlines with school or SI or the Avengers seemed to approach far too quickly. At some point along the drive Happy put the radio on and flicked between stations for a bit before giving up when he realised that all that was playing was advertisements or trashy music. They talked a little here and there, but most Peter had his black research notebook open and was scribbling down thoughts and equations as they came to him.

"You really got to learn to take a break otherwise you're going to burn out kid." Happy said his voice tinged with concern.

"You've been spending too much time around May," Peter said shrugging and striking through a line of working out as he spoke, "I'm fine."

"May might be pretty on top of that whole healthy lifestyle balance stuff but that isn't where I've learnt it from. I know that look Peter." Happy said taking a left.

"Hmm?" Peter murmured glancing up from his paper as Happy pulled the car into the carpark out front of Morgan's school.

"I know that look," Happy repeated looking slightly peeved at Peter’s seeming indifference to what he was saying but the irritation was overshadowed by the concern in his eyes, "because I saw it every time Tony was working on a project and hadn't left the house in three weeks."

Peter's pen fell slack in his hand, and he capped the ballpoint, swallowing nervously. What was he supposed to say to that? There wasn't much he could do right now about taking a break; his current projects and college workload didn’t allow for breaks.

"I'm fine Hap, really." Peter said lifting his eyes to meet the older man’s gaze and smiled convincingly. "Don't worry."

Happy seemed to doubt this for a second but Peter put on his best relaxed smile and Happy, finally, relented. "Alright then, Morgan's in there go and get her."

"What?"

"Come on the bell rung ten minutes ago and she's waiting."

"Why am I going?"

"Her teacher has a bit of a thing for me and it makes me uncomfortable." Happy said somehow managing to look a little pleased with himself as he said it.

"Righttttt…" Peter said shoving his notebook into his duffle bag along with his pen. "Remember what I said about you hurting May?"

"Relax kid, that's why I’m sending you in instead. And like I'd ever dare do anything to wrong that woman." Happy shook his head in disbelief as though the very idea was absurd.

"Yeah you're one lucky guy you remember that ok? Otherwise-"

"Yeah yeah I get it, just go get her." Happy said smiling as Peter shut the door behind him and strode off towards the reception of the school.

As Peter stepped through the entrance doors and glanced at the imposing red brick of the surrounding walls, he realised that he didn't know which classroom Morgan was even in. That wasn't much of a problem because almost as soon as the glass door to reception had thudded softly behind him, did he hear the high-pitched voice of Morgan Stark.

"Peter!" She cried jumping up from the row of seats that she had been perched at along with several other students whose parents hadn't picked them up yet. A woman with horn rimmed glasses and a tight, brunette bun had been overseeing the students and turned to see the visitor. Based on her appearance, Peter figured she was the strict type, however at seeing who had come through the doors there was only one word that could possibly describe her expression; disappointment. Peter felt the faint urge to laugh.

"Hey Morgan." Peter said crouching slightly to give Tony and Pepper’s daughter a hug.

"I though Happy was picking me up?" She said looking up at him with slightly furrowed brows.

"He's just waiting out in the car." Peter assured her and then pouted playfully, "does that mean you aren't excited to see me?"

"Nooo…" Morgan whined, "that's not what I meant."

Peter laughed and squeezed her shoulder, "I know I'm just kidding, come on let's go."

He took her tiny, red backpack from her shoulders and held it in one hand, using the other to take Morgan's hand as she led the way out of the school building. Peter smiled a sort of goodbye to the teacher who had been minding the children and tried not to laugh as she looked slightly forlornly after them as they exited the building. He had honestly thought Happy had been joking but it seemed he had been 100% serious.

"How long are you back for?" Morgan said swinging Peter's arm back and forth between them as they strolled down the meticulously manicured lawns to Happy's waiting sedan in the carpark.

"Just for Thanksgiving." Peter said swinging her arm back.

"Oh." Morgan said disappointedly.

"But I'll be back in two weeks for a longer break over Christmas." Peter assured her as they reached the car and he opened the back door for her.

"Hey kiddo how was school?" Happy said craning his head around as Morgan hopped up into the car.

"Good." Morgan said sweetly, smiling as Peter helped her with her seatbelt.

"The first thing she did was ask where you were." Peter said frowning as he clicked Morgan's seatbelt in securely and shut her door to get in on his own side.

Happy gasped in fake enthusiasm and Peter pretended to sulk. "That's not what I meant." Morgan complained and stuck her tongue out at Peter.

"Seriously! I'm gone for two weeks and suddenly you're the favourite?" Peter said throwing his hands up in fake outrage as Happy pulled out of the parking lot.

"Peterrrr…" Morgan whined pretending to scowl at him but Peter just turned around and stuck his tongue out at her in response.

"Oh yeah real mature Pete, stick your tongue out at the five-year-old why don't you. You're supposed to be a positive role model." Happy said.

"I'm five and a half." Morgan snapped folding her arms and Happy sighed.

"Yes, you're right, my mistake, five and a half."

Peter slipped his key into the lock of his and May's apartment and twisted, listening for the tell-tale click of the mechanism. Peter had tried to convince her to let him install better, more technologically advanced locks but May had insisted that 'those things can be hacked - these old ones can't'. Naturally, Peter had responded with 'oh yeah of course, unless your guest has, I don't know… superpowers? Or a strong kick?'. This point hadn't dissuaded his aunt though, so his house key was the only 'real' key that Peter still had.

Peter had just been dropped out of the front of the building by Happy and Morgan before they both continued onto Stark Industries where Pepper was waiting. Morgan had been reluctant for Peter to leave but Peter had departed with the promise of being at Thanksgiving lunch the next day.

Peter stepped over the threshold of the apartment. All things considered, he hadn’t actually spent a lot of time in there. Between working in the SI lab over the Summer, often staying overnight, and then moving in October, Peter didn’t feel the place was really home at all. Their old apartment had been lost during the five-year gap after the landlady had put it out to let, given that May and Peter weren’t exactly around to pay the mounting rent.

Peter dumped his duffle bag on one of the chairs sticking out next to the dining table and sighed. May clearly wasn't home yet. Peter slouched over to the kitchen and turned the tap on, cupping his hands beneath the spout and splashing his face with chilly water. It did the trick and he felt a little more alert as he swiped the water from his eyes. Suddenly noticing that thirst had crept up on him he extended his arm in the direction of the shelves on the left. He bent his fingers to his palm and waited expectantly for the cup to fly off the shelf and into his palm. Ok… so maybe the cold water hadn't done quite a good enough job of waking him up.

Peter almost laughed at himself as he walked over to retrieve a cup manually, perhaps he had been wearing his web shooters too often in the lab back at MIT. Peter filled the cup up and guzzled the water, he hadn't realised quite the extent of his need for hydration. Probably not a good sign, Peter thought as he set the glass down next to the sink.

“Peter?” May’s voice came from the front door and Peter ducked out of the kitchen and into the entry hall to receive her.

“Hey May.” Peter grinned walking up to his aunt and giving her a tight hug.

“Honey how come you didn’t close the door after you?” May asked drawing back and frowning at the door she had just come through.

“Oh… huh I guess I just forgot.” Peter shrugged and reached past her to shut it firmly.

Peter didn’t see the concern in his aunt’s eyes as he went back into the dining room and sat at the table.

“How are you doing? Everything good with college?”

“Yeah everything is great, classes all going smoothly.” Peter said shrugging and tapping his fingers absentmindedly on the worn wood of the dining table. It was the same one they’d had in the old apartment, Lisa, their elderly landlady, had been kind enough to put their old furniture in a storage unit. There had been a lot of that during the five years post-Snap, people holding onto the things that their relatives and friends had left behind as though they might return. It restored a little of Peter’s faith in humanity.

“And everything else? How have you been feeling?” May asked as she walked into the kitchen and put the kettle on to make her usual cup of tea that Peter knew she had each day when she got back from work. She started each day with coffee and ended it with a cup of tea and had done for as long as Peter could remember.

“Pretty good, a little tired but otherwise I’m fine. Looking forward to the Christmas break though.” Peter said laughing as he unzipped his duffle bag and retrieved his black notebook.

“I bet you are.” May said above the bubbling whine of the kettle. “Any assignments due this week? Do they give you a break for Thanksgiving?”

“Not this week but two next week,” Peter called back scrawling a few notes down and pulling his Stark Industries tablet out to compare with the schematics from his lab back at MIT. As he opened the tablet a series of notifications flashed up. “I’ll have to get them done on Monday and Tuesday because I have stuff to do this weekend.” The notifications were evidence enough of that and Peter swiped them away for later.

“I know you’re busy and you have a lot of responsibilities, but can you take at least one day off this weekend? You’ve got four days off college and you haven’t been home in two weeks.”

“I’ve already taken most of today off.” Peter replied half paying attention to the conversation and half working on the numbers in front of him.

“Well no more working today ok?” May said walking over and shutting his notebook.

“Peter, reminder that you have unanswered messages from MJ regarding your pre-arranged meeting this afternoon.” Karen said from his tablet.

“Shit.” Peter muttered.

Peter opened up his messages on the tablet and looked at what MJ had sent him earlier that morning.

MJ: We’re still on for 5 today right?                                                                      8:32a.m.

MJ: Peter come on! Answer???                                                                             10:02 a.m.

MJ: ur literally constantly around technology pls answer                                    3:21 p.m.

Peter groaned and ran a hand over his face.

“How are things going with MJ?” May asked genially as she came over to the table and sat in the chair at the head of it.

“I don’t really know May.” Peter said shaking his head and rubbing at his eyes. “It’s hard being far away from each other and we don’t get to talk a lot.”

“You mean, you don’t make the time to talk a lot.” May said wryly and Peter scowled. “It’s not about having the free time to talk it’s about making the time.” She dunked the tea bag in and out of the boiling water of her mug thoughtfully.

Peter didn’t really know what to say to that, so he just made a noise of agreement and typed a note back to MJ.

Peter: Sorry! Been a crazy day but yes all on for tonight.                          3:46 p.m.

Peter: looking forward to seeing u!                                                          3:46 p.m.

As an afterthought, he added the second message to make up for not answering her sooner.

“I’ll be out tonight.” Peter told May, reluctantly turning off his tablet once the messages were sent.

“Don’t forget the appointment I made for you at four.” She said sipping on her tea.

“What?” Peter said in confusion and mild despair. Perhaps he should have brought George with him, it seemed he wasn’t any good at keeping his own schedule under control without the AI.  

“Counselling with Dr Sam.” May said slowly as though that would make Peter remember the appointment any clearer.  

“What? Today but I thought—"

“I told you last time, each weekend you are back I am going to book an appointment for you because you refuse to get a new counsellor at MIT – you know the college offers student support services.” May said and Peter groaned as the lecturing began.

“I don’t need it anymore, May.” Peter insisted, pushing his fingers through his hair in frustration, “I’m fine.” It was the second time he’d had to tell someone that today and he couldn’t figure out for the life of him why no one was buying it.

“You’re fine when Dr Sam says you’re fine, once she gives you the all clear to stop your sessions then we can discuss that but for now I want you to keep going.” May said firmly before turning her attention to her cup of tea, which she blew on gently.

“I’m not grieving anymore, May.” Peter complained and the certainty with which he said it felt semi-real at least. “I’m really fine.” This time he said it with the most convincing smile he could muster.

Soon after the memorial back in May, Peter had started seeing a psychologist by the name of Dr. Samantha Gregor. As per May’s orders, Peter had met with her for one hour, once a week on Thursday afternoons. Each session had followed a similar structure, Sam liked structure, ‘We need to bring back structure to your life, Peter’ she’d say. Peter would talk for the first half of the session with Sam interjecting with bits of advice or the odd ‘tell me more about that’. Peter found that once he got talking it was difficult to stop, there was something about Sam that just made the words tumble out of his mouth. Sometimes he would trail off and not be sure what to say next, expecting for Sam to jump in. Annoyingly, she would remain quiet and those silent moments as Sam waited patiently for him to talk was enough to get the words flowing again.

The second half of the session usually involved talking about coping mechanisms, discussing Peter’s day to day life and things he could potentially change to make it easier for him to move on and live in a new world. His first few sessions had focused quite a bit on getting Peter through the last few weeks of school because his grades had been falling, ‘considering everything, Peter, it is very normal for your performance to drop’ Sam had assured him and by the end of the month Peter was more or less back on his feet school-wise.

Over the months Peter had gotten better and soon Sam’s voice in his head telling him to ‘breathe slower, remember your counting’or ‘don’t put your brick wall up Peter’had become his voice, sometimes cycling to Karen’s artificial voice, to May’s comforting tones, eventually coming back to his own voice. Sometimes it even became Tony’s voice telling Peter to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth or count the number of blue things that he could see in the room with him. And as the months had gone on Peter had found himself less and less reliant on such techniques and finally felt himself falling back into a sense of normalcy. Going to MIT had been a blessing not just because of the opportunities but because Peter was moving away from a lot of what reminded him of Tony.

And as Peter had healed, he had found it easier to do the things that had once sent him into shivering panic attacks post Snap. Each day he woke up and tried to be better, do better, and follow the example that Tony had set even if his mentor had always said that he wanted Peter to be better than him.

As far as Peter was concerned, he was better now, in fact he was better than better. He was thriving at college and getting great grades, his work at Stark Industries was going well and so was everything with the Avengers. On the weekends he was Spider-Man and during the week he was Peter Parker. He had his best friend in one state and his sort of girlfriend in the other state. His life was great.

May’s fingers snapped in front of Peter’s face and he jumped. “Earth to Peter?”

“What?” He said shaking his head and coming back down to reality.

“I was saying it’s not just about the grief, this is about you learning to deal with anything else that might come your way. I know that you’ve chosen the Spider-Man path but that comes with—”  

“I know May,” Peter said putting on a smile, “and I’ll go to the session today ok? I’m sorry I just forgot that it was on that’s all.”

May frowned, apparently having expected more resistance and suspicious of Peter’s change of attitude. “Alright.” She said slowly, “You better get ready though because it starts at four.”

“I’ll go get changed,” Peter sighed getting to his feet and pushing the dining chair out behind him. “After counselling I’ll go straight to meet MJ is that alright?”

“All fine, just stay safe and text me when you know what time you’ll be home – don’t forget to take your keys.”

Peter nodded and smiled as he left May to finish her tea. He might be a genetically modified superhero capable of climbing walls and swinging from great heights but sometimes having someone worry about you was nice, even if there was little cause for it. If anything, it made Peter feel slightly normal again, which was always a nice feeling these days. It was something to distract him from his college work, Spider-Man pressures, his commitment to Stark Industries and the Avengers, and of course his top-secret personal project, Chronos.

[navpike]

Licensed Response: Chapter 3

"I'm just going to lend a hand," Caleb calls as they run. He doesn’t want to make this a hero thing, but this seems big. He can help out a few civilians and leave when the cops or a proper Powered Response Team shows up. “Is this even legal?” Nott screeches. (It really isn't legal.)

Or, the one where the Nein are a team of superheroes (well, they're working on it, at least).

Chapter Three: friends are a fate that befell me [on ao3]

Their six months goes by without much trouble, giant monsters and crazed powered criminals only grace the world with their presence once in a while, contrary to popular opinion. So they only have to get into the thick of things three times over the course of their probationary period.

However, one of the conditions of them receiving an official permanent license is that they must prove to Deputy Mayor Feelid that not only are they effective as a PRT, they have to prove that they are functional and stable. They have to prove that they truly are a unit, that they didn’t just slap a team name on their group to try get out of facing consequences for breaking the law.

Jester insists that this means that they need to have team bonding time.

Caleb hates team bonding time.

It always means he needs to leave the apartment and go out in public, because none of them really know each other. Even though he knows who Beau, Jester and Fjord are (though they don’t know that), and at least the three of them know who he is, none of them are willing to have the others over to their homes, not just yet. They’re just not that close yet, even though their deadline is fast approaching. They need to be a cohesive group in less than two months, and they’re just not there, and they don’t really know how to remedy that.

Which is why it comes as such a shock when, almost five months into being ‘The Mighty Nein’, Sky Spear invites them over to her house.

The second she makes the offer their group chat, which was already only barely functional, blows up.

[from zappy zap, 11:12 AM]

How would you guys feel about having team bonding at my place this week?

[from silver, 11:12 AM]

hey excuse me fucking what

[from doctor fancypants, 11:13 AM]

quartermaster and i are so in! he’s distracted playing a video game but he says yes

[from flame on, 11:14 AM]

This is a very kind offer, Spear. Nott and I would be happy to attend.

[from bo staff, 11:16 AM]

hey question: do you ever talk like a normal fuckin person caleb?

[from nott, 11:16 AM]

he doesn’t.

ever.

also, we’ll definitely be there spear, thanks for the invite.

[from zappy zap, 11:20 AM]

That’s great guys.

[from zappy zap, 11:24 AM]

My wife is excited to meet you all. She’s been hearing Silver and I talk about you for a while.

[from bo staff, 11:24 AM]

EXCUSE ME WAHT

WHAT

W H A T

SPEAR i have been flirting with you for MONTHS why didnt you tell me you have a WHOLE ASS SPOUSE

[from nott, 11:25 AM]

as opposed to only half a spouse?

[from doctor fancypants, 11:25 AM]

oh my gosh youre married?!

[from fish, 11:26 AM]

This is worth losin a video game. Spear youre married?

[from silver, 11:26 AM]

HEY SPEAR WHEN WERE YOU GONNA TELL ME THIS WAS HAPPENING HUH?

[from nott, 11:26 AM]

oh we’ll be there for sure now. i can’t wait to meet her.

[from silver, 11:27 AM]

HELLO??????

WHEN?????

[from zappy zap, 11:31 AM]

Silver, I’m two rooms away from you, come talk to me in person. I’ll see the rest of you on Saturday!

And that’s the last there is to say about that. Caleb certainly wasn’t expecting that, but it’s a pleasant surprise. It’s nice to know that at least one of them has at least a semi-normal life.

Caleb thinks that, and then grumbles and immediately turns back to his laptop and his coding. Computer code won’t make him think about why he cares about these people’s happiness. Computer code just makes him irrationally angry. Computer code is just facts. Computer code gives him an income, so that he’s not burning through the settlement from the Ikithon Incident because that would be irresponsible.

Caleb shakes his head and sighs.

Even computer code has betrayed him now.

Shit.

~*~

Saturday afternoon finds Caleb and Veth standing on the front porch of a small town home four blocks away from ZuZu’s Cafe, Caleb holding a bag with two bottles of wine and shifting from foot to foot nervously.

It’s Veth who finally rings the doorbell, her face melting into something just a little different, a black domino mask appearing over her eyes.

A woman with dark brown hair tied up on top of her head and soft brown eyes peering at them from behind a pair of large-framed glasses opens the door with a smile.

“You must be Caleb and Nott! It’s so nice to meet you, Yasha’s told me so much about you. Come in, come in.” She steps aside and ushers them in the door, instructs them to take their shoes off there, graciously takes the wine Caleb offers. “The others are through here in the kitchen. Already broken out the wine, I think. Oh! And where are my manners! I’m Zuala, I’m Yasha’s wife.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Caleb responds, a little taken aback by her overwhelmingly warm personality. He also can’t shake the feeling that he knows her from somewhere. She looks incredibly familiar.

“Caleb! Nott! You’re here!” Jester’s ever-cheery voice sounds out as they make their way into the kitchen.

True to Zuala’s word, Jester, Beau and Fjord are in there, sans their masks, for the first time, as is another young man with shoulder length purple hair twisted into elaborate braids, more piercings than Caleb can even count, and tattoos on every visible inch of skin, a peacock tail even crawling up the side of his face.

That’s Silvertongue, Caleb realizes. That tattoo on his face is the reason his mask covers so much, to cover the identifying mark. He looks familiar too, and Caleb still can’t pinpoint why, he’s so overwhelmed with the general chaos of re-meeting all of these people again.

They’re all crowded around the kitchen island, an empty bottle of wine already in between them, Silvertongue, Jester and Beau giggling while Fjord nurses what’s probably still his first glass.

There’s a woman at the counter, pulling a tray of pastries out of the oven. Caleb assumes this must be Yasha, Sky Spear, Zuala’s wife.

His friend.

God isn’t that a weird thought. Caleb hasn’t had a friend besides Veth in years. Not since Astrid and Eodwulf. Not since Ikithon.

He has a moment of blind panic where he worries that somehow Ikithon will fuck this up for him too, that he’ll find a way to corrupt these friends too, to ruin their lives too, but then he takes a breath and remembers. Ikithon is in prison. He’s in a power dampening cell in solitary confinement where he will stay for the rest of his life.

The kitchen smells like cinnamon.

Caleb focuses on that, and takes another breath. Zuala pats him on the shoulder and crosses the kitchen to kiss her wife on the cheek.

“Oh Caleb, Nott, you’re here!” Yasha says happily, setting the tray on the stove top and discarding the oven mitt next to it. She returns the kiss from her wife and crosses to Caleb and Nott with a wide smile. “So. Zuala and I have been talking about this for some time, and we decided that if we’re meant to be teammates, and friends, that it was best we stopped hiding behind masks. Not that I’m trying to pressure you into sharing your identity, Nott, but, I thought it was time for me to. So. It’s nice to meet you both. I’m Yasha Nydoorin.”

Without her armor and without the warpaint and the black haze concealing her face, Yasha looks wildly different. She looks soft. Her hair, a pale blonde, almost white, at the tips, fading into black at the roots, is tied into even more complex braids than Silvertongue’s, and Caleb thinks she must have done his hair for him. Caleb smiles at the thought. Without the haze and paint, Yasha’s face isn’t so harsh. Instead of a severe glare, her mismatched eyes are endearing, her gaze easy and kind. It’s a really incredible difference.

Caleb sticks out his hand, and Yasha accepts the handshake.

“Hello Yasha Nydoorin. I am Caleb Widogast. It is very nice to meet you.”

Caleb withdraws his hand and glances to Veth. She’s wringing her hands as she watches the two of them, nervously shifting her weight until she seems to come to a decision. When Yasha turns to Veth, Veth takes a deep breath, pulls out her hip flask and takes a deep pull from it, and extends a hand.

When Veth’s hand extends, her form melts, the mask disappearing, and features shifting back to the face she calls hers, though Caleb’s not entirely sure if that’s truly what she looks like, in all actuality.

“I’m Veth Brenatto. Nice to meet you all,” Veth says, shaking Yasha’s hand and glancing at the others in the kitchen.

Behind Yasha, Beau, Jester, Fjord and Silvertongue have gone silent, watching Yasha introduce herself to Caleb and Veth.

“Well,” Silvertongue finally says, reclining in his seat. “I suppose if even Nott-- Veth, sorry-- can give us her real name, the rest of us can do that too. Mollymauk Tealeaf, at your service, ladies, gents, others and Sentinel.”

Beau throws a wine cork at Mollymauk’s head.

“It’s Beau. Uh, Beauregard Lionett, technically, but really, it’s just Beau,” she says.

“And I’m Jester Lavorre!” Jester says, with just as much enthusiasm as she uses for everything else.

“I’m uh. I’m Fjord. Just Fjord really,” Fjord says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “We’ve actually-- That is to say, the three of us actually had a run in with Caleb and Veth at ZuZu’s down the street, the day we all met.”

“I recall,” Caleb says. “A word of advice, Fjord. Your scar is very distinctive. It may do you well to cover it. I’ve known who the three of you are since the beginning.” He smirks as he says it, a little self satisfied.

Fjord lifts a hand to cover the scar on his forehead.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Veth reassures him, smacking Caleb’s arm. “Just you definitely should cover it up when you go out to fight things if you want to keep your identity secret, like at all.”

Zuala laughs where she’s just finished plating the pastries from the tray.

“You super types are too sensitive. People have flaws, even superpowered ones,” she teases gently, as she sets the dish of pastries in the center of the kitchen island and pours two glasses of wine.

She passes one to Yasha, and keeps one for herself and Mollymauk gasps in mock confoundment.

“Nothing for me? Zu, I’m heartbroken!”

Zuala scoffs. “I employ you and house you, you can pour your own damn wine,” she teases. Caleb finally gets what he’s been missing.

Yasha, Zuala and Mollymauk look familiar to him like this because they run ZuZu’s Cafe, he’s seen them there before.

When he voices this realization, he gets matching looks of realization from Jester, Beau and Fjord. Veth laughs at him, and Mollymauk, Yasha and Zuala join in.

“Welcome to the party Widogast,” Mollymauk says mockingly, but there’s no real heat behind his words and Caleb, very hesitantly, lets himself laugh at the teasing.  “There we go! He does know how to joke!”

That makes Veth laugh too, and just like that, any remaining tension is cut.

Caleb feels at home with these people. Despite every reservation he’s had for the past few years about having friends, about letting people get close, about letting people in, Caleb finds himself truly enjoying being around The Nein.

He hesitates to say it, but these people are becoming almost like a family to him, despite the fact that he’s only known them for a few months. This is the closest he’s ever been to anyone, besides Astrid and Eodwulf, and he likes it. He likes not being alone.

It’s terrifying.

Caleb pours himself a very large glass of wine. He drinks it faster than he has ever drank anything in his life.

Okay that’s a lie, but he does knock it back impressively quickly.

It settles his shaking hands, and he pours a second glass a bit more steadily before they all move into the living room so they can all sit.

They talk a little before Fjord finally asks what’s on everyone’s mind.

“So, Yasha, you said you were from Canada, right? What brought you to the states?”

Yasha’s smile falls a little bit, and Zuala takes her hand in something like support, Caleb thinks. Maybe they shouldn’t have asked.

“Ah, that is…” Yasha trails off, squeezing Zuala’s hand in hers. “I come from a very large family, one that’s very traditional. They had a whole life planned out for me, had all but arranged a marriage for me. But I fell in love. They didn’t like it. They already took issue with my abilities and me falling in love with Zuala, it was a tipping point. So we picked up and left. Opened ZuZu’s here a few years back and got married not long after. It’s been, what, five years? Best of my life.”

Zuala smiles so softly at Yasha that it twists something deep in Caleb’s chest, and makes him feel so warm and content he almost doesn’t know what to do with himself.

That might also be the wine, but potato, tomato. It’s a good thing he and Veth took a cab here.

“What about you, Fjord?” Zuala asks after a bit, breaking the silence. “What brought you to the East Coast? If I remember right, Yasha told me that you and Jester both told her you were from California?”

“Oh yeah, we both grew up in San Francisco. We met through some Facebook page that was for our college, people looking for roommates and whatnot. Found out we’d lived a few miles away from each other almost our whole lives and had never met before through some stroke of luck, but we met up for coffee a few times, and decided that we could handle sharing an apartment, and we moved across the country together. Talk about moving fast, huh?” he jokes and Jester all but cackles at that. “But I think I’ll end up staying here. Nothing much keeping me in California, now.”

“Why not?” Yasha asks softly, her words ever so slightly wine-slurred. At that thought, Caleb pours himself another glass. He’s definitely had too much to drink already. He sips at this glass anyway.

“Well I, uh. Don’t got any family to go back to, really. Closest thing I had was a foster dad who I lived with most of my life, but he died just after I turned eighteen. That’s why I don’t really use a last name most of the time. My last name’s just the street that the church I was left at was on. I worked some odd jobs over there, worked on a boat for a while to save up for school, and I guess I could go back to any of those, but it’s nothing I’m real tied to, y’know? I like it here a hell of a lot more.”

“And I’m here now! And I really love my mama and I miss her, but I’m probably going to stay here too because I like it here, and you wouldn’t want to leave me, right, Fjord?” Jester says, with a bat of her eyelashes.

Fjord rolls his eyes, but still agrees. “Wouldn’t want to leave you for the world now. Went and got under my skin.”

Jester laughs again. “It’s really funny that we became roommates, when you think of it, especially cause you’re so old, Fjord, but I’m really glad we did, cause you’re a good friend.”

“Hey!” Fjord protests. “I’m not old! I’m twenty five! Caleb’s old!”

Caleb protests too, his words definitely touched by the alcohol. “M’not that old. M’only twenty nine.”

A lot of eyes swivel towards him all at once.

“You’re only twenty nine, Caleb?” Mollymauk asks, and Caleb nods, a sad sort of smile on his face. “What the hell happened to you to make you age like that?”

It’s teasing, and Caleb can tell it, but a combination of the honesty in the air and the too much wine Caleb’s had makes him answer, “Torture, mostly, I think. Maybe the brainwashing? The experiments probably? But definitely the torture. Yes, definitely that,” he says into his near empty wine glass.

The room is too quiet.

Veth takes the glass away from him.

With nothing in his hands to look at now, Caleb looks up, curious about the sudden silence.

“Oh. I’ve ruined the mood now, haven’t I? My apologies.”

“No, Caleb, Jesus, you… What the hell are you talking about?” Beau asks, and Caleb shrugs in response.

“Well you know, the whole,” he gestures to himself and then makes a vague wave at empty air. “The Ikithon thing.”

It occurs to Caleb now that he never really looked at how much information was released to the public. It was enough to identify him and Astrid and Eodwulf. It was enough that some people thought he should be in jail for what he’d done. But after everything, he’d avoided anything having to do with the case like the plague. He never looked at what had become a matter of public record. It was too painful to dig through all of that just to find out what was missing. People knew enough. That was all that mattered. People knew, and they knew enough.

Now though, Caleb kind of wishes he had checked to see what the public knew. Cause now he’s gonna have to talk about it.

Fuck.

~*~

“Caleb, what do you mean, the Ikithon thing?” Veth asks gently.

She’s wringing her hands like she does when she gets nervous, and Caleb hates that he’s making her nervous. Best get it over with then, right? He can get it over with quick? For sure.

“Ah, Trent Ikithon,” and just saying the name makes Caleb cringe, but he presses forward anyway, “selected me, and two others for scholarships to the Soltryce Academy when we were young. He took us from the foster home we were in and told us he was going to give us a real home at the Academy, and that he was going to make us the greatest heroes this country had ever seen. And he did. He trained us out of standard classes, gave us more extra lessons than even the worst remedial student so that we’d be in peak form all the time. But then we…” Caleb trails off and mulls it over in his head for a moment, and when he speaks again, the word is very slurred, “plateaued.”

“You hit a point where you had mastered your abilities at that time as best you could. Everyone hits that point when they’re young. Your powers probably weren’t fully developed yet,” Beau mutters.

“Sure. But he did not like that,” Caleb counters, because Ikithon really hadn’t. He’d hated it when they’d started making less and less progress with each week, even though there was no more progress that was physically possible to make. “So he started brainstorming ways to make us better, and then he started trying them and that was just… the worst.” Caleb sloppily pushes one sleeve up, without thinking, and pokes experimentally at one of the old scars there, still shiny and standing out against the rest of his skin. Nothing happens, not that he was expecting anything to.

Everyone around him gasps though, and he looks up, curious what’s surprised them all so much.

They’re all staring at him.

“Christ almighty, Caleb,” Fjord mutters.

“What did that?” Jester asks, with none of her characteristic cheer. That makes Caleb a little sad. He doesn’t like that Jester sounds sad.

“Ah, Ikithon did. It was one of his ways to try to make us better. He would put, ah, crystals? In our skin, to see if they would enhance our powers. They didn’t. But he tried for a while.” Caleb pokes at a couple more scars and then tugs his sleeve back down and sighs. “After a while he gave up with the experimenting and just became cruel, and then he got tired of that and decided to be more direct in his methods. Ikithon can control minds. Like Mollymauk, but more powerful. So he just, took us over for a while. Made us his puppets. We did some truly unforgivable things. That was when he was caught but the damage had already been done. That’s the Ikithon Thing.”

“Fuck, Cay.”

Caleb’s not sure who says that, Mollymauk maybe, but he can’t help but agree. A laugh that’s a little self-deprecating and a little hysterical bubbles out of his chest, and he is helpless to stop it for a solid few seconds.

“It’s not funny,” he says, through the tail end of the laugh.

“It’s horrifying.” There is more emotion contained in those two words from Yasha than Caleb knows how to deal with, especially with his level of drunkenness.

“So!” Mollymauk exclaims, cutting through the tension with all the grace of a speeding MAC truck. “Who else wants to share their deep rooted trauma?”

It’s a joke, just barely, and it does the job, though it lacks the usual finesse of Mollymauk’s humor.

“Well,” Beau says, with a sound that’s almost a laugh but really isn’t. “My parents only ever wanted a good son, and when they got me instead, they got so pissed about it that they shipped me off to Cobalt against my will and had a son to replace me. I think they even gave him the same name as me, cause they always wanted a son named Beauregard. Never met him though, so who knows. Doesn’t matter much. That’s nowhere near as bad as--” Yasha cuts Beau off before she can finish that sentence.

“Trauma is not a competition,” she says, quietly but firmly. She leaves no room for argument. “You wouldn’t tell me that what I’ve lived through doesn’t matter, because what Caleb’s experienced is worse. Don’t do it to yourself either.”

Beau looks properly chastised, but not upset by that. She looks almost happy, like she’s pleased someone’s finally acknowledged what she’s been through. Caleb thinks it might be the first time anyone ever has. That makes him sad, but there’s time to be sad later, Mollymauk’s talking now.

“Uh, two years ago,” Mollymauk says, and he twists his fingers together and looks as unconfident as any of them have ever seen him. “Yasha found me in the back alley behind ZuZu’s, beaten to hell and back and completely out of it. She brought me to the hospital and stuck around for a bit, to make sure someone came for me, but I had no ID, nothing on me, not even a phone. I could barely even talk. Yash brought me back here and helped me get back on my feet and even after I was starting to be a person again, she let me stay and gave me a job. Mollymauk Tealeaf is a name I came up with on the fly when I needed to get a new ID. I uh, I’ve got no idea who I am.”

“They couldn’t track your tattoos? Find out where they’d been done? Those are pretty extensive and specific,” Beau asks.

“No. I got these after. As a way to become… me, y’know? I just cropped up into existence one day in this body I didn’t recognize. Thought I might as well make it mine.” Mollymauk rubs his hands together and lets out a deep breath. “Welp, I never wanna have to talk about myself again and that’s saying something! Someone else say something.”

Veth takes a huge swig from her flask, drains it dry, and then says, in what seems to be all one breath, “I have a husband and a son who live right here in this city and I haven’t seen them in over a year because I got my powers then and I’m terrified that I’m going to lose control over my form and that my mind will go with it and I’ll hurt my family.”

All eyes snap to Veth.

“You have a son?” Jester asks, a little excited and a lot sad.

“His name is Luke, and my husband’s name is Yeza. I don’t quite remember how I got these powers, but I remember it was an accident that happened when I got jumped on the way to the subway station one night.  I fought back, and hurt a few of them pretty badly, but, something happened, and I just… I woke up like this. Melting from one thing to the next. Not myself anymore. And I was too afraid to go home, and that was when I found Caleb, and I recognized him, so I knew he’d be able to keep himself safe if I lost control, so I thought it was okay to stay. I thought he could teach me some control too, so that one day, I can go back to my husband and son. I text, sometimes, and I send them things, toys for Luke, or chemistry equipment for Yeza, he’s a very gifted chemist, but it’s not the same.”

There is a beat of heavy oppressive silence, before Caleb breaks it.

“I thought all that chemistry stuff was cause you were making drugs.”

Veth blinks up at him once, twice, three times, and then bursts into peals of uncontrollable laughter, that spreads through the group faster than any of them care to admit.

Before they know it, they’re all wheezing with, cackling and giggling and nearly rolling out of their seats.

And it feels good. It feels good to know these important things about each other, to know why they each are the way they are, and it feels really good to laugh like this with each other.

If Fjord and Caleb are a little teary-eyed and Jester and Veth have tears running down their faces, no one comments. How could they?

This is the closest they’ve ever been as a group, as friends, as a fucked up little family, and Caleb finally admits to himself, with no conditions added, that he likes this.

He likes this ragtag little family they’ve begun to build, in a rather pathetic attempt to create a team.

No ‘and’s, no ‘if’s. He just likes this.

[fafsernir]

These Are The Days Of Our Lives (4)

Fandom: Good Omens (Crowley/Aziraphale)

Chapters: 4/? (Read 1, 2, 3) (#TATDOOL on my tumblr)

Summary:  Everything was fine, tickety-boo, as Aziraphale said. And Crowley knew that because he saw him every day, not because he loved him. Because he didn’t. (Teachers!AU)

Read on AO3

Support me on Ko-Fi :)

Crowley sighed in his pile of papers, then put them down with a frustrated grunt. He hadn’t slept at all the night before. Aziraphale had been the one to fall asleep while reading. Crowley had carefully taken the book out of his hands, marked the page and put it down. Aziraphale would never forgive him if he let him drop the book. And he didn’t want to upset him. Certainly not with his mind burning with thoughts of him. He wished he had never bumped into Newton.

He kept thinking about… everything Newton had told him. It wasn’t doing any good to his brain. He was tired and was grateful for his shades to hide at least that. He needed a coffee, he thought as he downed his cold one in one gulp. He grimaced and got back to work. Or tried to.

He was late in his gradings, and he wished he didn’t have to do that. But he had already gone past his personal deadline to hand back a work. As much as it pained him to admit it, he cared about those kids, and he didn’t want them to have a good excuse to behave like idiots in his class. If he couldn’t respect his own deadlines – which were already longer than most of his co-workers – it was worrying. He didn’t want to be that teacher. He was contemplating the idea of not going to his last class at all to instead go lie down on his bed and sleep. Or on his couch. Maybe it still smelt like Aziraphale.

A coffee appeared in front of his face and startled him. Aziraphale, who was handing him the cup, smiled and moved behind him.

“Still haven’t finished those?” he asked, leaning over Crowley to read.

Crowley leaned on the table at the same time, just so his bloody chest wouldn’t touch his back or his head, but Aziraphale kept on leaning, because Crowley’s head was getting in the way. Crowley stiffened suddenly when his friend put a hand on the table, so he wouldn’t fall, but happened to put his hand slightly over Crowley’s. He looked at their hands as if they would catch on fire at any given moment. Crowley was sure they could.

Crowley felt Aziraphale breathing down his neck, and he wanted to turn and kiss him so badly. But he couldn’t. Aziraphale didn’t want that. Crowley hadn’t felt this way about someone – about Aziraphale – for a long time, but the need to be with him had come back full strength, all of it because of stupid Newton and his stupid truth and his stupid speech about how they’d make a great couple, and his stupid apologies, and his stupid tap on the shoulder, and his stupid face, and the stupid fact that he was stupidly right.

“No, I’m done!” Crowley said suddenly, gathering everything and getting up with a huge effort to ignore the way his body brushed Aziraphale’s. “I- uh- need to go check my classroom, before… for—stuff. Thanks for the coffee!” He grabbed the cup in his flight, hissing when the burning water protested his rushed gestures and landed on his hand.

He sighed once he was out the teachers’ room, and walked to his classroom, until he remembered that there always was another teacher before him at this hour. He grumbled and walked back towards the teachers’ room, then avoided it, then walked outside and waved at other teachers with no pretend smile. He was tired, he didn’t want to pretend. He didn’t have the reputation of being a nice guy, anyway. He still was polite, though. The two were compatible.

He finally settled for a short walk in the streets, feeling it would help him calm down. Or help him think.

The entire night had been enough for him to accept his feelings, for the second time in his life. He had never denied them – well, wasn’t that a nice lie – but because Aziraphale hadn’t been ready, he had chosen to bury them. It was easier to pretend he didn’t love him, rather than painfully remind himself that Aziraphale wasn’t ready – to be in love, to be in love with a man, to be in love with a friend, to be in love with Crowley, that Crowley didn’t know and hadn’t asked.

As he paced in a quiet street, he mumbled to himself, a proof of his undeniably mad mind. Or of his lack of sleep, maybe.

“Can’t just go ‘Hey, angel, I ssstill love you, please love me too?’ obviously… Gaah, and ‘angel’? So, what? ‘Hey, Aziraphale—’ No, not ‘Aziraphale’… ‘Heyyy Az’… Nope, can’t do that. ‘Zira’? Ugh, come on. ‘Heyy, youu’… What am I even doing?! Should I say something? What should I say? ‘Hullo, should we go on a date already?’ Yeah, sure, that’ll work. Will he even understand? ‘Hey, I want to bloody kissss you, is that alright?’ Now, that’s clear, but that’s ssso bad…”

He growled in his palms, then ran his hands through his hair.

“It’s a bit straightforward.”

Crowley’s head snapped up, his shades in a weird position on his nose, but still hiding his eyes and his exhaustion. With horror – and blurrily – Crowley looked at the four children in front of him. Just what he needed, kids outside of school. Kids telling him that… Kids… Kids that had heard what he was saying, or at least some of it. Hopefully not all. Hopefully not a name. Oh, he was fucked.

“I-I’m… I was just…” Crowley scoffed, straightening his glasses to give him just a second to think. “I was rehearsing a play!” Brilliant!

“And you’re playing a snake?” Adam Young asked with a smile. Of course, it had to be the Them, or it would have been too easy, right.

“What? Why a snake?” His tattoo, maybe, but he tried to forget he had done that. It had been a mistake – not the tattoo itself, but the fact that it was on his face. Everyone made mistakes. Especially when drunk. That was a story the Them did not need to know.

“You’re hissssing like one,” Pepper said, mimicking his hissing at the perfection, to be fair.

“I’m still… figuring out the character,” Crowley continued lying.

“So, who’s the lucky girl?” Wensleydale asked, which earned a glare from Pepper and Adam.

“Or the lucky boy,” Pepper added, shrugging.

Okay, so they had heard some of it. “Look, kids, it’s great that you are open-minded and all, but really, I’m just trying to rehearse before class.”

“Are you planning on acting the scene in class?” Adam asked, his curiosity visibly peaked. He wanted Crowley to ridicule himself, it felt like.

“Yeah, right,” Crowley chuckled, then frowned. “No, I’m not!” You never knew, with those kids, you always had to clarify. “Aren’t you late for class?”

“Aren’t you late for class?” Adam grinned, turning in the direction of the school.

Crowley gaped at them. Even for him, they looked scary. They were not mean or bad people, really, but they still were known in the school because they had always been together, they had always been four, and nobody could seem to penetrate their little group. They were closer than any other group of students Crowley had ever seen. It was something about them… Maybe Adam, possibly Adam. He looked like a fearless leader, or better, a fearless tyrant, like the History teacher liked to rightfully put it. Adam wasn’t bad, it had been established, but the rest of the Them seemed to be listening to him as if he were the messiah, and that in itself felt odd, sometimes.

Crowley shook his head. Who had time to think about an innocent group of students, when he was running late to his class? His class that he had, with the Them, among others. The Them, who had not believed a single word he had said – he had read it on their faces. The Them, who would be looking at him, the five of them knowing exactly what had happened right before class. They would think him mad, pacing in a street, saying dumb stuff to himself. And he hadn’t even gotten further than where he had been before! He just prayed that they hadn’t heard a name, his name.