#both must be gently slapped in the grocery store

[skin-slave]

I hope this doesn't help.

[apolloendymion]

ok! i think tumblr ate my fucking apple cider recipe post. still, my autumn equinox tradition must carry on!

Apollo's Foolproof From-Scratch Apple Cider That Was So Good It Allegedly Landed Me A Boyfriend

you will need:

12 apples (the variety is up to you, i usually do half granny smith and half whatever's on sale plus a red delicious for garnishing)

10oz raisins

cinnamon sticks, whole cloves, star anise, nutmeg, allspice, cardamom pods, any other warming spices u like (whole > ground) (follow ur heart on the amounts, it's like garlic just throw so much in there. just go wild)

1 orange

brown sugar (i don't have measurements but be prepared to use a LOT lmao, i always buy at least one 32oz bag. you'll be sweetening to taste.)

large pot with lid

potato masher (optional)

two large bowls/pots/receptacles to strain the cider into

fine mesh strainer

cheesecloth or coffee filters (optional)

apple corer or knife

citrus zester

slotted spoon or ladle

the steps:

1. scrub apples gently under hot water to remove grocery store wax coating. core apples making sure all seeds & stems are removed. add apples, raisins, and mulling spices to pot with enough water to fully cover ingredients, and bring to boil. reduce heat, cover, and simmer for 1 hour.

2. scrub orange to remove wax. zest and juice, avoiding the pith & seeds. use a potato masher or other utensil to lightly mash boiled apple mixture so every apple slice is at least partially broken up, then add the zest & juice to the pot. bring back to boil, reduce heat, cover, and simmer for another hour. then turn off the heat and allow mixture to cool.

3. place two mesh strainers over two bowls or pots (and cover each with a cheesecloth or coffee filters, if you have them). with a slotted spoon or ladle, remove as much of the solids from the pot as you can and place them in one strainer (the larger one, if they are different sizes) to drain, then press out as much liquid into the cheesecloth as possible.

4. pour the cider from the simmer pot into the second cheesecloth and press. combine the liquid from both bowls.

5. add brown sugar to taste

cooking tips:

the times listed above are bare minimums. once all the ingredients are in the pot (minus sugar!) you can simmer as long as you want, so long as someone's nearby to supervise.

always add any sweeteners after the cooking process. otherwise, they'll burn and make the whole thing bitter.

if it's too acidic, add baking soda or more spices. if it's not acidic enough, add lemon juice, additional orange juice, or apple cider vinegar.

variations:

add 12oz fresh cranberries to the first step

sub oranges for lemons or apple cider vinegar

sub brown sugar for straight molasses, maple syrup, or alternative sweetener of your choice (I'd imagine fig or other fruit-based sweeteners would work best)

report back to me if you try something new!! i want to hear how it turned out!

serving suggestions:

add three or four cinnamon imperials (red hots) to your mug, along with a dash of fireball whiskey if you're so inclined. i cannot stress enough how fucking amazing this tastes.

garnish with apple slices, orange slices, cinnamon sticks, and/or star anise

if you have dairy-free ice cream on hand, pour some cider over a scoop. you can use dairy ice cream, but it's more likely to curdle.

freeze some in an ice cube tray, then blend with some non-frozen cider for a slushie

ok I've never tried this, but i bet blending with pumpkin puree would slap. PLEASE tell me if you try it

this makes a metric fuckload of cider, which is very rich and can be watered down considerably (seriously). share with your friends and/or freeze some to last the season (or halve it, i guess, but that's no fun :P)

[bbyquokka]

3:21 pm (lfx)

→ GENRE: fluff | mafia!AU | timestamp

→ WARNINGS: gn!reader | pet names [babe, my love]

→ WORDS: 0.9k

→ A/N: this was requested by anon. i hope this is okay as its my first time writing a mafia au. 🙈

→ m.list – → ao3

A plastic shopping bag in one hand, the other holding onto the strap of your handbag. You walk towards the building, two bodyguards standing by the door, dressed in suits, tattoos decorating their skin. One body guard extends his arm out as you approach closer and closer, causing you to stop in your tracks.

"You can't be here." He spoke, keeping it stern and simple. His black sunglasses rest on the bridge of his nose, making him feel more intimidating. You roll your eyes, scoffing.

"Oh, C'mon Changbin. It's me, y/n!" You point at yourself, laughing softly. Changbin folds his arms across his chest, his muscles threatening to rip his suit.

"I know who you are but you are entering a dangerous and top secret building."

"Top sec–" You shake your head, sighing softly as you rub the bridge of your nose. "Changbin, this is Felix's holiday home. It's not exactly top secret nor dangerous."

The other bodyguard, Chan, spluttered, laughing softly before regaining back his composure.

"How do you know he is here?"

"I– Jesus Christ Changbin, he invited me along." Changbin's cheek flushes pink, a small smile making its way to his lips. He clears his throat, determined to keep up this role of being a bodyguard.

"Yes, well, must have slipped my mind." You laugh softly, gently patting his pecs.

"Keep up the good work, Changbin."

Changbin clears his throat, clearly feeling embarrassed and possibly taking his role too seriously. You make your way into the holiday home, nodding your head and saying hello to Chan as you pass by.

You take your shoes and coat off, placing them neatly to the side. You made your way to the living area, smiling softly as you see your lover sat on the sofa, cigar resting between his fingers.

"Knock Knock." You softly spoke. Felix looks up, smiling big. Placing his cigar in the ashtray, he stands up and walks towards you. You flush a faint pink colour, seeing him dressed in his comfy wear – a stark contrast from his usual business attire.

Wearing nothing but sweatpants and a plain white vest top, his tattooed arms on show, the dragon masterpiece on his back peaking out. His black hair scraped back in a half up half down hairstyle, bare face – this was the first time since being together you've seen him look so relaxed and comfy.

"My love, you came!" His deep voice rings in your ears, his strong tattooed arms wrap themselves around you. You gently drop the shopping bag, wrapping your own arms around him and nuzzling your face into his chest.

"Of course, lix. I couldn't turn down the offer of spending a holiday with you." your words muffled.

"Such a cutie." Felix grins, pinching your cheeks together. You whine, slapping his bicep gently.

You met Felix by coincidence. You heard rumours about him, about the mafia, it's hard not to when they're the talk of town 24/7. You were waiting for the bus after your daily commune of work and grocery shopping, when a storm approached. You didn't plan on bringing an umbrella because the forecast said it was going to be clear skies. Felix noticed you were getting drenched and offered you his umbrella, to which you took. Since then, you have both been inseparable.

"What's in the bag, babe?"

"Oh!" You pick up the grocery bag, walking to the living area. Felix follows you, moving his ashtray away from you, aware that he didn't want you to breathe in the smoke. He replaced the ashtray with an intense stick, the smell masking the stale cigar stench.

You kneel at the coffee table, sitting on your feet as you unpack the bag. "I went to the local store and bought a bunch of traditional, locally grown foods. I was thinking I could make some dinner tonight. The shop owner gave me a famous recipe that everyone in the area uses, so I want to try!"

Felix smiles warmly at you, kneeling beside you as he strokes your head gently.

"That sounds perfect! I cannot wait to try it."

"Yeah, I figured you might want something homemade, like a stew or something. I figured you might have had enough of take-outs and Jeongin terrible cooking."

"You could say that." Felix laughs softly, nodding in agreement. "But they try and that's all that matters."

"Absolutely. Some may try harder than others." You giggle to yourself, thinking back to Changbin. Felix cocks his head to the side. "I'll tell you later." You grin, waving your hand to dismiss it.

"It better be good!"

"Oh believe me lix. It is." A soft, deep hum of content ripples to the back of his throat, making you shiver. He shuffles closer to you, gently kissing your temple.

"Thank you for being here, babe."

"Oh, it's okay lix."

"No. I mean it." Felix cups your cheeks in his hands gently, stroking your skin with the pad of his thumb. The faint smell of cigar smoke hit your nostrils from his fingers but you couldn't care less about that.

"You make me feel so loved and appreciated. sometimes I'm scared that what I do would scare you away but you've been with me for this long. I'm the happiest when I'm with you. You bring out the best in me. y/n, i think I'm in love with you…"

You blink, heart thumping hard against your chest. Your eyes slowly fill up with tears at the sudden confession.

"You don't have to say anything back! You don't even have to accept it, y/n. I just wanted to get it off my chest, that's all."

"Lix, I love you too." You sob. Felix's own eyes fill with tears, falling down his cheeks. You laugh softly, your lips meeting together in a blissful kiss.

"I've always loved you."

→ TAGS [open]: @chaneomma | @purple-belle | @laylasbunbunny | @dilucpegg3r

[mintchanniemint]

pairing: [still friends] bassist!chan x (fem)reader wordcount: ~2k taglist: @100797-bc ; @hugs4chan previous part: click here!

[3:46 p.m]

knock knock… knock… 

Your knuckles shyly hit the hard surface of the wooden door blocking your way as the grip on the bag in your other hand was getting tighter and tighter. 

Why am I even here? 

You really didn't understand how you could show up only because you received one of his usual 'hey, come over and bring some cookies thanks' text messages, yet there you were, one hand knocking against that damn door, the other one holding a shopping bag containing cookies and other groceries. 

What a mess.

You mentally slapped your own forehead as you were waiting for someone, more specifically him, to come open the door but you were met with silence. 

Complete, annoying silence.

You sighed as you tried once again to knock, maybe even ring the bell, but before you could do so, the door quickly opened and your eyes met with bright, dark and not familiar ones: in those two seconds you were able to notice a cute mole under his eye, some piercings adorning his left ear, accompanied by a lip ring, and a grey sweater proudly showing the logo of the Art Department of your University. 

"Sorry for making you wait, you must be Chan's friend… right? Nice to meet you!"  He smiled at you, his eyes gently closing as he offered to get the shopping bag from your hands. You slightly nodded, thanking him, and introduced yourself while the two of you were walking towards the kitchen in Chan's apartment. 

"I'm Hyunjin, and I'm… not part of the cool kids squad, but you can see me as some sort of parasite here. Also, I'm kinda trying to befriend that beast over there." He shrugged pointing at Princess, the white and way too classy cat that would hiss at everyone but Chan. 

"Good luck with that, Hyunjin. It's gonna be quite the mission!" You giggled while putting away the groceries, silence falling back into the room. 

He said he's not part of Chan's band… Did that mean he was having a session with his group that day?  You had to admit, that thought both relaxed and scared you, but at least you knew he wouldn't have been able to mention anything about… whatever happened in university the previous week. 

As your mind was slowly putting different thoughts one on the other like a wall, this got completely crushed by the sudden appearance of the subject of your recent fears. 

"Oh, you arrived."  His usual, monotonous voice pierced into your ears, letting your cheeks get tint in a really light red, your eyes suddenly finding the nutritional facts label of that packet of snacks really interesting. At that point you could have just gone around with a “this person is a coward” sign on your forehead and you wouldn’t have felt not even the slightest difference.

"Yeah and she bought some groceries, too! So kind of her."  Hyunjin commented from the living room: he was comfortably sitting on the sofa, his eyes focused on the pages of a book he was reading while he was trying to pet Princess with the other hand. The white furred demon, though, had other plans and lightly scratched him before quickly running away to meet Chan's leg, purring as she looked at his favourite human with sweet eyes. 

He knelt down and his fingers gently met her fluffy chin, giving her a few light scratches, making her purr even more in response.  Hyunjin threw a defeated glance at those two before bringing back his whole attention to the content of the book he was reading, his fingers playing, from time to time, with a few locks of his soft, black hair. 

You mentally thanked Princess for stepping in and distracting the main enemy, and you quickly went back to the few groceries you bought, even though the way you were treating them made it feel like you had bought an industrial quantity of them, maybe even robbed the whole store. Chan walked behind you, directed to the fridge to get four cold drinks for him and his band mates, and he nonchalantly let his hand caress your waist for a fraction of seconds, resting on it as he bent to get the cans with his other hand.  You felt his thumb rubbing gently against your skin, covered by the layer of your blue shirt, before he walked away, holding the cans in both hands. 

You didn't say a word, nor did he, yet your eyes couldn't help but follow his figure until it disappeared behind that door. Your skin felt warm as it was still registering the gentle touch of his fingers on it.

You were brought back to reality by Hyunjin clearing his throat, as he was still on the sofa but this time he was looking at you with an entertained smirk, his quiet expression was being a bit too loud as he kept glancing at you, then at the door, and once again at you. 

"I wonder if they're gonna practise all day."  He tried to make some sort of small talk after he noticed how you were gradually trying to hide behind the counter,  out of embarrassment. You felt caught red-handed but, at the same time, you couldn’t even explain why you were feeling that way. After all, there wasn’t really anything serious between you and Chan.

Is there even something between us, though?

You shook your head, coming to terms with the fact that you were able to make a fool of yourself in front of someone you just met, yet you tried to keep that small talk alive and decided to go along with it.  

"Yeah… though, what are they practising for?"  Your words left your mouth in a mutter since you decided to lazily lean against the counter, your cheek completely against the cold marble surface, your eyes randomly focusing on the small magnets against the fridge’s surface: the little magnet with a white flower and the beach looked really, really cute. You wondered how such a cute object landed in such a place.

"He didn't tell you?! That's weird… They are having a gig next Sat- I mean…" His voice reached your ears with the same intensity as that time you forgot your old television had some technical problems and whenever you turned it on it would constantly have the highest volume possible. Weird analogy, yes, but the exact same feeling of confusion and “what the hell was that-” got your mind so rapidly.

You suddenly stood up. Your eyes, filled with confusion, looking at Hyunjin’s figure, who was still on the sofa in the living room, just a few metres from you. Hyunjin slowly closed the book that kept him company for the past few hours and left it in his hands. He now understood how it took you twenty minutes to put away just a few groceries, as the title of that Art History book became quite interesting.

“Hey, did you know this book was published in-”

“Hyunjin, what do you mean a gig?” You interrupted him, obviously not allowing him to somehow derail the conversation, though you had to admit you would have wanted to know what year that book was-

NO. No, I literally do not care about that-

You groaned and let your hands quickly ruffle your hair and then took a deep, very deep breath. Hyunijn was now sitting on the sofa in a way too polite and formal manner: his hands both on his laps, his eyes completely fixed on the floor, probably waiting for an order or whatever his fate had in store for him.

You closed your eyes, trying to gather your thoughts, before taking a few steps  closer to Hyunjin. With one hand still messing up your hair and the other weakly pointing at him, you tried to be as quiet as possible, so that the band members, and more specifically, HIM, wouldn’t have a chance to accidentally hear you. You didn’t even have time to open your mouth, Hyunjin beat you to it- or at least, it seemed so.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t really supposed to tell you- but at the same time, Chan doesn’t really-.... I mean, he really didn’t tell you? How is that- I mean… He didn’t?” His words were a complete mess, you barely were able to understand what he was saying since he started four different sentences without even ending one of them.

You hushed him, feeling a bit scared that Chan might be eavesdropping. At the same time, the thought of him and his bandmates casually leaning against the door to listen to a conversation between the two little ‘parasites’ in the living room sounded a bit too funny and unrealistic to you at that moment. You tried to avoid, once again, a complete U-turn of your thoughts, and you brought your whole attention back to Hyunjin, who was still sitting on the sofa in such a rigid position, panic gradually filling his eyes.

Chan never really mentioned anything like that to me… why?

Wrong. Chan had never mentioned anything to you, or if he did, it was never in detail, related to his gigs and his band. You thought he would have wanted to share such an important part of himself with you, but maybe you were not meant to know? No matter how many times you tried to mention it, he never agreed on telling you about his gigs, nor were you ever able to know any information related to where and when he’d have one. It was quite weird, but you thought that maybe he was just… shy about it? For some reason, you really didn’t put that much weight on it, but now it felt different. Yet, how come he invited you over and didn’t even greet you? How come he didn’t even tell you he was practising, and more importantly, practising for a show? How come he never introduced his bandmates to you, and how come you got to know about one of his gigs because a friend of his slipped up about it? Did he really want you to be there, or was it all just a big misunderstanding? Wasn’t he expecting you to come, or was he planning to actually put an end to... whatever your relationship was, after that really awkward and embarrassing burst of jealousy you couldn’t control the previous week? Was he actually mad over the fact that you...bit him? It wasn’t even that serious anyway- Did it hurt? Or did he hate that? Was that too much?

You couldn’t answer not even one  of these many questions simply because of one reason: after that project in university, you decided to avoid Chan as much as possible, even if it meant to walk an extra fifteen minutes to reach the classroom without crossing paths with him, not even accidentally. You didn’t want to get mad at Hyunjin, and he most likely wasn’t the one at fault, so you tried to calm down and leave those thoughts for another moment as you sighed.

“He didn’t. He didn’t tell me.” Hyunjin surprisingly seemed more relaxed. He probably was able to gather his thoughts and, seeing how you didn’t react too aggressively, he felt a bit better. Still guilty, yes, but not as much as a few minutes earlier. After clearly thinking for a few seconds, he looked at you, his lips were adorned in a soft, nearly shy, smirk that let his lip ring shine for a fraction of second.

"Oh well… What about going to the gig together? We're not part of the cool kids band anyways, no big deal in going and giving them money with those tickets, right?"  He jokingly mumbled, his eyes unable to break eye contact with you, there was a spark in them, as if he felt quite successful at breaking the heavy, awkward atmosphere that he accidentally created with his own hands.

You nodded as you forced a smile on your lips. 

Nothing wrong if I go with him, right? 

"Right."

[sunarinluvr]

|| haikyuu boys finding you asleep on the couch after an argument ||

includes: kuroo tetsurou, miya osamu, & oikawa tooru

a/n- hello! sorry for posting so late, but this has been sitting in my drafts for a while and i was actually in the mood to finish it so i hope yall enjoy! oh and im not really sure about how i feel about it,,, might take it down later we shall see.

warnings: none ( lmk if there’s anything! )

KUROO -

last night you saw a post kuroo’s “work wife” had made on instagram with her kissing him on the cheek, and it didn’t make you feel the best, so you decided to bring it up to him the next morning. and you did, just as he was getting ready for work you talked to him about it.

you were standing in front of him filled with anger arguing about how it made you uncomfortable, “can you please listen?! i dont feel comfortable with your “work wife” kissing you?” you yelled. “Y/N it was on the cheek its not a big deal!” and to be honest you just wanted to cry. 

finally, he walked past you and opened the door. “i don’t have time for this y/n, stop being so insecure! at least she wouldn’t argue over something so small!” and with that, he slammed the door and you stood there stunned. kuroo knew that he shouldn’t have said that, instant regret and guilt filled his gut.

 but he already said it, he can’t do anything about it now. with a frustrated sigh, he went to work. hoping to fix everything when he gets home. you stood there speechless, as you realized you still had work so slowly you made your way to the bathroom. 

after getting ready and grabbing a quick snack you were out the door with a heavy chest. once you get home, tired and feeling worse than before. you trudged to the couch and plopped down letting out a shaky sigh remembering the argument and the words he said repeating in your head. 

you broke down crying, and before you knew it, the exhaustion from today took over and you were sound asleep on the couch. kuroo got home an hour later, he felt guilty and was already practicing how he’d apologize to you as he walked in.“y/n? kitten?” no answer. 

he called out again, and was met with silence, he made his way over to the living room where he found you sleeping on the couch. gently walking towards you he knelt down, and saw your tear-stained face which made his heart sink. “i fucked up” he said to himself.

giving you a gentle kiss on your forehead he softly apologized and carried you to the bedroom. you ended up waking up when you felt his body weight dent the bed. “tetsu?” you said softly squinting at him. relief rushes through his body at the sound of his nickname. looking at you with guilt in his eyes

“im so sorry kitten, i shouldn’t have said that. i didn’t mean to hurt you” he said gently. at that tears started flowing again and he was quick to hug you and wipe your tears with his other hand. “it’s ok, i shouldn’t have been so insecure anyways” 

he shook his head with a frown “no it’s not your fault ok? i didn’t mean anything i said. i love you so so much and i’m so lucky that you’re mine” you look up at him and gave him a small smile “okay” before cuddling closer to him. giving you a soft kiss on the lips he hugged you tighter as you both fell asleep.

OSAMU -

osamu was just having a horrible day, his head was pounding and the customers he had to deal with today were just plain rude. then he had to do most of the work since one of his employees called in sick, and for some reason, everything just annoyed him.

you on the other hand did not know about his day at all and thought it would be nice of you to make a surprise visit. walking in with a huge smile on your face stopping midway when you realize he wasn’t at the counter. “where’s samu?” you asked sweetly to the employee

“he’s in the back, i think he has a headache,” she says giving you a small smile. you can tell something was off by the way she spoke but decided to just brush it off and make your way to the back. “hi samu! surprise!” you exclaimed cheerfully as you make your way towards him

he just kind of looks at you, which you thought was weird, but you decided to hug him anyways. when he doesn’t hug you back and groan, you pull away and look at him “baby i heard you had a headache. i didn’t bring any medicine, but we could eat first and i-” 

you couldn’t even finish your sentence since osamu just stood up. he was infuriated and had no clue why, usually loved listening to you but today he was just annoyed. “look y/n a don’t mean ta be rude, but a don't have the energy for this right now. please just go home.” he said coldly staring right at you.

“excuse me? i came here to surprise you and this is what i get??” you said in shock, voice a little louder this time. rolling his eyes “Oh wow am so surprised! now will ya please go home? a don’t wanna argue right now!” he yelled. with tears forming in your eyes you quickly wiped them and left. osamu knew he shouldn’t have said all that, but he was too mad to run after you in front of all the customers. 

you rushed home and sluggishly made your way to your room to change into something comfier, making your way to the couch, curling up into a ball allowing your tears to fall, and somehow falling asleep, after getting tired of crying. he gets home a few hours later, guilt building up in his stomach as he mentally slaps himself for the things he said. 

walking into the living room he opened the lights and you were the first thing he noticed. seeing you curled up into a ball on the couch made his heart drop to his stomach. you on the other hand woke up because of the sudden change of lighting. 

gradually adjusting your sight you see him and switch your gaze onto the floor when you saw him look at you too. seeing your puffy eyes he walks towards you slowly and sits beside you giving you enough space. “am sorry, a shouldn’t have taken my frustration out on ya.”

you look at him with watery eyes and his heart sinks “yea i was just trying to be nice, sorry i didn’t warn you before coming” he opened his arms and you instinctively scooted closer to him, he sighs “no a love it when you surprise me a was jus having a bad day a love ya so much ok?” finally hugging him “okay i love you too” giving you a quick kiss he offered to make you food and of course you said yes.

OIKAWA -

you love oikawa, and you’re very supportive and understanding especially when it comes to his career. but he has an awful habit of overworking himself and as much as you love him you can't bear the fact that you couldn’t even see him anymore.

he goes home late at night -as in you’re already sound asleep late- and when you do stay up to see him, he’s too tired to even keep a conversation. then the next morning he’s gone before you could even wake up. you’ve spoken to him about this many times, but alas nothing changed.

you woke up to an empty bed as usual, but today was different though, you’ve planned a dinner for about 2 weeks now. you were very excited because it’s been so long since you both spent some quality time together and he promised to come home early. 

getting up you send him a little text reminding him of your dinner tonight, with a smile you head on over to the bathroom to get ready for work. once work was over you made a quick visit to the grocery store to buy the ingredients you’ll need to make tonight’s dinner. 

quietly humming to yourself while going through each aisle, and double-checking your list to make sure you’re not missing anything while checking your phone here and there. oikawa still hasn’t replied “he must be busy,” you say to yourself as you send him another text about the dinner just in case. after about 30 minutes you get home rushing since it was already late, and immediately getting started on dinner. 

once you're done you sat down and waited, and waited, and waited. it's been 4 hours. dinners cold and still no sign of your boyfriend. you decided to call him pissed off that he couldn’t even show up to one dinner, “hello? y/n i can't talk right now i still need to practice” 

he said as soon as he picked up. “tooru? did you get my texts? what about dinner, we’ve made plans for this 2 weeks prior! i even-” you were cut off “look just eat without me ok? we can eat again somet-” now it was your turn to cut him off. 

“oikawa tooru, you leave the house while i’m asleep and come back when i'm asleep. i just wanted to spend time with you..whatever good luck at practice,” you replied as you hang up. his heart sank when he heard the crack in your voice rushing to his car on his way home to you because he knows he fucked up. 

buying your favorite flowers for you on the way home cursing himself and the world for making it traffic at that exact moment. when he got home the first thing he saw was the food and you fast asleep on the couch. he felt a pang of guilt about being late. 

“y/n chan?” he said while gently waking you up. you stare at him with red puffy eyes and he hugged you giving you the flowers “im sorry baby, i should’ve prioritized you and our dinner. i promise ill do better” you saw how genuine he was being so you accepted the flowers and hugged him tighter as he offered to reheat the food you made.

reblogs are highly appreciated!

[butterflyyeo]

jealous

pairing — han jisung x reader

genre — angst (?)

tw — slightly suggestive (?)

wc — 3035

a/n — yall idk wtf this is im trying my best to get better at writing angsty (???) stuff so im really sorry if this is absolute trash T^T. feedback is appreciated !!

———————————

you hadn't seen your brother, chan, for a long time, six months to be exact and of course you missed him dearly. when he called to tell you that he was coming home for a while you nearly cried of joy, however, the happiness faded when he mentioned that he'd be bringing his band mates, that meant changbin... and han jisung.

it wasn't exactly a secret that you didn't get along with jisung, and you never knew why. he always just irked you a bit, and on purpose too. it was constant bickering between the two of you, fortunately, chan and changbin had learnt to tolerate it. speaking of changbin, you actually quite liked him and he was rather fond of you too. chan knew this, in fact, chan saw all the underlying tension between you and the rest of 3racha. he was thankful that he was your brother, but he didn't have to intervene, he was fully aware that you could handle these things on your own. unless of course you asked for help, and in that case, he would go to war for you.

a sturdy knock hit the door a few times and you ran to the door, unlocking it.

"channie!!" you leaped onto him and hugged him tightly. he dropped his bags down to the floor just so he could hug you back. "i've missed you so much!" you said as you hopped down and picked up both of his bags.

he grinned, "i've missed you too, y/n."

your smile dropped almost instantly as you saw jisung leaning against the doorway, a smirk across his face that just made you want to slap him. faking a smile, you greeted changbin, "hey changbin! good to see you." he gave you a sincere nod and smile before picking up his suitcase. "now chan, shall i put these in the guest room?" you asked, chan was already going through the fridge, looking for food.

"mm." he mumbled. you took it as a yes and heaved his bags to the guest room, dumping them beside the bed. as you turned around to help changbin with his luggage, someone blocked your way.

"you didn't say hello to me?" jisung questioned, though, it sounded more like a statement.

huffing, you responded, "why would i?"

"because you love me," he said as he leaned in close. "and you missed me."

"you must be confused." you shrugged and pushed past him. that was too close for comfort. you thought as you walked out and picked up changbin's last bag.

"hey y/n," chan began, "what's for dinner?"

you sighed, "i'm gonna have to go shopping chan, i don't have enough food for all of you." you went to put your shoes on and a jacket too, since it was getting late and more chilly outside. "who wants to chauffeur me to the grocery store?" you joked.

"anything for you, my love." jisung said teasingly as he held his hand out to you.

"uh, i'd rather not." you swatted his hand away. "c'mon changbin, let's go!" you said while dragging changbin up from the sofa. he groaned, but honestly he didn't mind so much. he was just being a big baby.

the car trip was short and quiet, mainly because changbin was tired from all the travelling they had done to get to your house. plus, their schedule has been so full lately, they were lucky to have this time off.

wandering through isles, you began picking up ingredients and placing them intro a trolley.

"you really missed us?" changbin began, "me and chan of course..." he trailed off but a playful smile tugged at his lips.

"of course i am! jisung on the other hand..." you rolled your eyes, pushing the trolley along.

he chucked, "you really still hate each other? after all these years?"

you huffed, a little too obnoxiously, "yes. i do still hate him. and i'm sure he despises me too. i don't even know what it is... it's just... the way he treats me. he acts like he deserves my friendship, which he doesn't. it's something you earn."

"remind me to never piss you off." changbin laughed as he put a bag of chips in the trolley.

once you had everything you needed you put it through the register, changbin insisted he paid, since you were letting the three of them live with you.

shortly after you arrived home, you began cooking. while he wasn't the best, changbin offered to help as best he could. you actually thought it was really sweet. he passed you utensils, condiments and he even set the table.

meanwhile, chan was fast asleep in the guest room and jisung was showering in the provided ensuite. you turned to changbin and high fived him, "we're all done! i should wake up chan. you can start eating if you want." proud of his efforts, changbin sat down and began to eat.

gently pressing the door open to the guest room, you whispered, "chan? dinner is ready." you walked over to him and was about to softly shake him when jisung walked out of the bathroom, only a towel around his waist. his tousled wet hair dripped little drops of water down his chest and it was rather overwhelming to see him so exposed.

contrary to your thoughts, he couldn't care less, he enjoyed watching the way you panicked and blushed heavily. if this is what it takes. he thought.

"oh! um, jisung. i'm so sorry, i was just coming to tell chan that dinner is ready, i should've knocked or-" you blurted out in a quiet voice, weary of chan waking up.

jisung let out a low chuckle, "it's fine, y/n. i'll wake him up once i've dressed."

"thanks," you said as you went to leave, "wait... no snarky comment?" you puzzled.

he said nothing, just winked at you as you closed the door.

you joined changbin at the dinner table, sitting across from him. "how's the food?" you asked as you took a bite for yourself.

"y/n it's amazing! you're seriously a great cook. man, i wish i was this good." he said as he took a small bite of the spaghetti you had prepared.

at that moment, chan dawdled out the door and jisung closely behind. they joined you at the table and also began eating.

"don't worry about it binnie, i can teach you to cook, years of living on my own without chan seems to have payed off a bit." you joked.

"binnie?" jisung questioned the nickname you had given to changbin, whilst changbin sat there furiously blushing. he tried to hide it by lowering his head but that honestly seemed it give it away more.

"sounds cute." you shrugged, not thinking much of it.

chan cleared his throat, "okay so here's the plan for tomorrow," he began, taking another bite of spaghetti, "changbin and i have to go talk to JYP about an upcoming show we are doing, so we could be gone all day with that. there's lots to plan."

"wait a second, why am i not going? i'm apart of 3racha too." jisung stated.

changbin replied, "did you get the email from him?"

jisung shook his head, "well, no but-"

"then you're not coming." changbin grinned cheekily, knowing this upset jisung.

when everyone had finished with their meal, changbin stood up and collected all the dirty dishes, only to begin washing them in the sink. you quickly tried to stop him, "oh, changbin! don't worry i can do that." you said as you tried to take over, but he refused.

"no. you won't. dinner was great! you've done enough for today, if we are gonna be living here for the next few weeks then i might as well be of some use." he smiled at you before nodding to the tv, signalling for you to relax.

tired as ever, chan come over and kissed your head goodnight before going back to sleep. by now it was nearly 10pm, you had a late dinner but that was because they arrived later than expected.

you sat down on the sofa and began browsing movies. you decided to watch your favourite, even though you've seen it a million times. once he was finished with the dishes, changbin joined you on the sofa to watch the movie, you quickly filled him in on all the little details of the plot.

jisung was still sitting at the dinner table, scrolling through his phone, he was contemplating coming to join the two of you in watching the movie, but decided against it when he saw changbin put his arm around you. rolling his eyes and scoffing a little too loud, jisung stood up and went to the guest room he was sharing with chan. he tried his best not to slam the door but somehow that didn't happen.

"huh, wonder what's up with him?" changbin asked, looking at the door wide eyed. "i'll go check, sorry, i'll be back in a sec." he followed jisung into the guest room, you heard changbin quietly ask if he was okay.

what started as a whispered discussion soon became a hushed argument, you were worried that soon they would start yelling at each other. luckily chan was a deep sleeper, he also slept with earphones in, so you were pretty sure he wouldn't hear any of it.

the minutes passed and their quarreling continued, you debated going in there to try and make some peace but you decided against it, this seemed to be something personal between the two of them. instead, you switched off the tv and the lights, and went got ready for bed. as you were about to close your eyes you heard the jingle of keys and the sound of the door opening and closing. whoever it was, you knew they could take care of themselves, they were both adults and probably just needed some space.

when you woke up, it was around 7am. you quickly threw a hoodie on over your shirt, feeling a bit cold and walked into the living space to see changbin, sleeping softly on the sofa. it only just occurred to you that there wasn't enough beds for all of you in your current living situation.

you gently peeked into chan's room to see him sprawled out, sleeping a deep sleep. you smiled to yourself, knowing that he got all the sleep he deserved. the empty bed in the room didn't go unnoticed however.

it was jisung who left last night. and he didn't seem to be back yet.

slightly worried, you decided to cook up some bacon and eggs for when the boys woke up.

"morning y/n." you turned around to see changbin leaning against the kitchen counter.

you smiled, "morning! sorry if i woke you up, i'm just making some breakfast, you've probably got time to shower if you want to before you eat."

"serious? man, what did we do to deserve you?" changbin said looking at you sincerely.

you laughed lightly, "nothing, now go! and please wake chan up when you get out."

he just chuckled as he walked away and closed the guest room door behind him. you wondered if you should make enough breakfast for jisung, would he be back soon? if he wasn't, he could just re-heat it, you thought.

the last few pieces of bacon finished cooking so you begin buttering the toast, you made a lot knowing that chan has a big appetite and there was a good chance they wouldn't have time to eat today. your train of thought was interrupted once again by changbin.

"anything i can do to help?" he asked, he was dressed quite smartly, but you understood as he was going to console with JYP himself.

"nope! i'm just about done, plus, you wouldn't want to dirty your clothes," you said as you began serving breakfast.

"ah okay, i woke chan up, he wanted to have a shower so he shouldn't be too much longer." he said, "can i?" he asked, pointing to one of the cups of steaming hot coffee you set on the counter.

"of course!" you said. a question burned in the back of your mind and you wondered if you should ask or not. "uh, changbin..." you began.

changbin knew exactly what you were about to say, "he's okay, y/n. he just wanted some space." his eyes stared at the wall blankly. there was more to this than needing space.

"so.. why was he upset then? you guys had a pretty heated argument.."

changbin's eyes met yours, "i'm sorry you had to hear that." he took a sip of coffee, "we just had a bit of a disagreement, it happens all the time... you see, the thing is-"

"good morning to my favourite people!" chan said as he waltzed out of the guest room, also looking rather sharp.

you and changbin smiled at his enthusiasm, "morning!" the two of you chimed back.

"breakfast made? hot coffee? you seriously are the best sister in the world! it's like we're staying at a five star hotel." chan said picking up a mug of coffee.

you laughed, "i'm your only sister."

he shrugged, "still the best," he took a sip and hummed, looking around the room, "hey, where's jisung?"

"i don't know. i heard him leave last night." you said, placing two plates of food at the dinner table.

chan sent a red hot glare at changbin, knowing exactly why jisung would've stormed out. changbin looked away sheepishly.

"okay, well, breakfast is ready! eat up, you guys have a busy day." you said sitting down in front of a plate.

chan and changbin began discussing things for later with JYP, while you just sat their mindlessly eating your breakfast. you still couldn't help but wonder where jisung had went, and why he wasn't back yet.

you had completely zoned out and was just picking at the scraps of your plate when chan spoke, "well that was seriously great y/n! what a good way to start the day."

you smiled at your brother, "ah, it's the least i can do, maybe you could ask JYP if you can dedicate a song to me in return."

the three of you laughed and you began to clear up the plates while the boys finished getting ready. shortly after, they said their goodbyes and closed the front door behind them. although the door muffled his voice, you heard chan say to changbin, "you seriously fought over that again?"

you sighed to yourself, what were you going to do all day? you decided to finish cleaning up and have a shower.

you let the water run until it was warm before stepping in, you had to remember to be mindful because you often got carried away and distracted in the shower and lost track of time.

which is, exactly what happened, before you knew it you had been half an hour. shit, you thought. as you wrapped a towel around your body, you remembered jisung and how you saw a little too much of him after he showered. you blushed furiously just remembering it. that's when you realised that your feelings for changbin were just a deflection of the feelings you have for jisung. you're ridiculous, you thought. he hates you, despises you, enjoys making fun of you. you quickly ruled out the possibility of him ever returning the feeling and finished dressing.

you spent the day multitasking some of your studies while watching movie after movie, trying to be somewhat productive. your stomach suddenly growled and you checked the time, "must be time for lun-" you said aloud, "oh, it's 5pm." you laughed at your silly sense of time and how you had got carried away all day. but you soon frowned, 5pm and jisung still wasn't back?

since the boys weren't home you made yourself a light meal and sat at the dinner table alone, listening to some background music. it was actually quite relaxing. the evening golden sun shone through the window as you finished eating. you quickly began washing up your plate, when you heard the door creak open.

"oh, chan you're home! i just finished eating, but i can make something for you and changbin just give me a min-" but when you turned around to greet them, it wasn't chan or changbin. it was jisung. "jisung."

"are you gonna admit that you missed me this time? or do i have to leave for longer?" he smirked but you just sighed in relief. you hated to confess that you worried you wouldn't hear his stupid comments for a long while.

you spoke quietly, "of course i missed you. i was worried sick."

"oh? worried now?" he toyed.

"yes, worried! i heard you arguing with changbin and then you left!" you exclaimed.

his face turned away at the mention of changbin's name, "well sometimes changbin and i argue, it's normal."

you scoffed, "that's what he said."

"he told you?" jisung asked.

"no, he didn't tell me what you fought about, but it would seem that it isn't the first time because i heard chan scolding him after they left this morning." you admitted.

"they're not back?"

you shook your head, "nope," jisung looked away, "look, i just had dinner but is there anything you want?"

"yeah." he began.

"what would you like?" you asked.

"you." jisung said bluntly, catching you off guard. "and changbin wants you too."

it all made sense now. "oh, i, i see.." you said, quite taken aback. "jisung, it could ruin everything, we'd be playing with fire."

"i don't care, y/n." he said taking a few steps closer.

"but, chan is my brother." you said.

"he's my best friend." jisung countered, coming closer again.

"what about changbin?" you asked.

"he's also my best friend." at this point, jisung was standing face to face with you.

"hang on a second," you took a step back, hitting the counter, "i don't owe you anything." you whispered, pressing a finger to his lips.

he smirked, "but i owe you everything."

[akaashisupremacy]

Moments of Courage

Summary: Osamu Miya is a difficult ex to have. When your paths cross endlessly, you try to rebuild your relationship. Will there be second chances? Or just more broken hearts?

HQ Masterlist || Multi-fandom Masterlist || Read it on A03

Osamu Miya  x reader  

“Are you leaving this party because of me?”

Osamu calls you out from the tiny hallway of your friend’s get together. After locking eyes with him, you did your best to subtly scamper towards the door.

“You don’t have to go. I can leave if it’s making you uncomfortable.” he assures.

You shake your head, “You can stay. I’m not having that much fun.”

You begin shuffling through the coat rack to look for yours. You’re desperate for anything to cut the time talking to him, talking about him. The only guaranteed way for this to stop is to leave.

“Are you hiding from me?” he asks almost rhetorically. His brows are gently raised.

“Yeah, obviously,” you retort, “I don’t want to be seen by you or with you.”

Osamu Miya is your ex. After over a year of dating, he decided to end things with you in a small cafe far off his onigiri stall.

“I’m too busy,” he claimed, “You deserve someone who could give you more time.”

You reasoned out that you didn’t mind not spending so much time together. His job was time-consuming. You understood that.

But Osamu was unsettled. You didn’t mind cheering him on from the benches waiting for him to finish up work. You liked seeing Osamu do things he was passionate about. And yet he felt unsettled, because he knew this was the type of work you would not engage in.

Osamu pressed on, “I’m sure you’ll find yourself someone more worldly, more sophisticated in the city. I don’t want to prevent you from meeting someone like that.”

Something dropped at the pit of your stomach. Your mouth was ajar. He’s really trying to break up with you. It’s no secret that you preferred the city and Osamu the countryside, but neither of you seemed to mind. You’d both make the time to visit each other. You made it work.

You remember barely touching your drink. Listening to him talk was like having a ton of bricks dropped on your back. The sunlight pouring in from the glass window suddenly felt prickly.

“I just don’t think we’re a good fit.” he swallowed, unable to look you in the eye, “I think someone from the country, someone simpler and more traditional would be better for me.”

You don’t miss the yearning in his voice, the dreaminess for someone who was clearly not you. He’d always tease that you were a true blue big city girl. You liked the tall buildings, the noise and the fancy department stores. You thought it was a point of endearment, but apparently not.

It’s been almost a year since you last saw him. He looks so unaffected it irks you.

“I broke up with you respectfully. Why are you mad?” he scratches his head.

It takes all your self-control to not slap him across the face.

“Because you hurt me! You’ve hurt me so…so…much.” your voice hitches before you can catch it. This is so humiliating. He’s clearly moved on from you.

Tears start pouring down your face. You quickly hide your eyes behind your coat.

“You’d eventually realize that I’m not right for you.” he murmurs, “We’re too different.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me.” you snap, clenching your fists, “So is this is it? To make you feel better you’re going to date a small town girl to solve all your problems.”

“Well, Kita did introduce me to someone lately.” he unironically replies, “She works in her family ryokan (inn) and we work similar hours. I think we’ll understand each other more than we did.”

Your eyes narrow.

“There’s no point staying in a relationship that I can’t make time for. Why can’t you understand that?” he snaps back.

It is one thing to be left for someone else and another for him to dump you just because. Somehow you feel like you lost even if you didn’t even have competition. He simply didn’t want you.

Your face contorts into an angry frown.

You slip on your coat and grab the door. “Man, you are a terrible ex. Do you know how it hurts when you tell me how wrong I was for you?”

When Osamu regains his cool, he tries to reach out to you, “I didn’t mean it that way…I didn’t feel good that I could make time for ‘ya and so I let the relationship go. Because i don’t know…—“

“Well, this is all just theory anyways.” he says, “I haven’t met Kita’s friend yet. We haven’t gone out yet, just the two of us.”

You do a double turn. “What?!?”

“Yeah, we’re working all the time but we haven’t made the time to meet.”

You break into a laugh. He stands stunned and confused.

“You know what? You stay behind. You left the last time. I want to be the one to leave this time.” you sigh, closing the door behind you.

You don’t turn back to see the look on his face.

————————————— Osamu mostly works in the countryside which means that you’d be less likely to run into each other in the city. It’s easier for you to keep your mind off him and focus on your current life.

So when you see him in the corner store in place of a small fried chicken stall you used to frequent, you’re visibly shocked, appalled even.

“What are you doing here?!” you jump back, “What happened to the fried chicken stall that was here?”

Osamu looks left and right, making sure no approaching customers can hear your dialogue.

“I run this stall now. Kawaneshi-san retired. It’s a great location. I’m literally in a crossroad between a shopping district and some schools. The rent isn’t too bad and it’s a very busy location.” he answers in his usual no nonsense tone.

You make a mental list not to pass by here again.

He recognizes the look on your face, “Have I just ruined your usual route for you?”

“I thought you were a country boy.” you avoid answering him.

“Even I need to make a living.” he snorts, carefully arranging umeboshi-flavored onigiri in his display case.

Sure! All of a sudden working in the city becomes important after he breaks up with you!

You roll your eyes and curtly walk away. You got here first. You love this city. You refuse to let some onigiri-making man ruin your everyday route.

The days roll into weeks. You stick to your route and diligently ignore Osamu each time. After a while it stops feeling weird that he’s there. You feel like you’re slowly taking pieces of yourself that he broke.

It feels so good to start to be whole again.

———————————— Your newfound peace with Osamu is interrupted when he calls you out of the blue one evening. He calls to tell you that he’s sick and that he needs help running groceries. The nerve!

“Don’t you have anyone else?” you groan. Hasn’t he made friends with some other shopkeepers?

“I have no one else. There’s only you.” he coughs through his words. He tries to explain that one of his few friends is out on bereavement.

You let it go. He clearly doesn’t have anyone for today.

You find out that Osamu lives in the apartment above his stall. The space is rather small. He shares his home with some of the equipment and supplies from his store.

He must hate it here. Osamu always loved wide open spaces.

You open the fridge to find it totally empty. His sink has a few empty bowls from his earlier rice porridges. You understand his desperation. He had nothing to eat.

Moved by his situation and the little compassion for him that remains in you, you sigh and begin chopping up some vegetables to make a nutritious broth. You add in some mushrooms and root crops. While the soup boils, you prepare rice and some pickles.

The faster he recovers, the less you have to interact with him.

When you bring him a tray of food in his room, he is equal parts surprised and confused.

“You can cook?” he clears his throat.

“No, Osamu.” you roll your eyes, “I eat all my food raw.”

He sits up and sniffs the aroma of your food through his clogged nose. He dips a spoon into the soup to sample his first meal of the day.

“I mean you can cook well, like a proper home cook.” he says, his eyes wide with awe. He quickly takes a few more sips and starts on his rice.

“I’ve never known.” he croaks, turning to you.

“You never asked,” you shrug, “And you like to do the cooking yourself. You probably assumed I can’t cook, because I’m not as passionate about food as you are.”

He quietly eats and looks away to confirm the truth in your statement.

You sigh and take a nearby basin with some towels in it. “I’ll leave after I bring the basin back.”

——————————————- Something changes in your relationship with Osamu after that incident. He starts to greet you when you walk by and sometimes offers you onigiri from his store.

You always insist on paying. He doesn’t always take it.

“You’re here to make a living.” you say as you push money into his hands.

In between these exchanges you start to ask about each other again. How are you doing? Was today busy? Stuff like that.

Slowly and surely, you two were rebuilding your relationship ground up. But it was tough. Neither of you went beyond these interactions. Maybe things are just meant to stay that way.

One late evening, the last customer for the day disappears out of Osamu’s line of sight when he heads into the back to start cleaning up. He’s about to start pulling down the rafters when you suddenly show up at his counter.

His face expresses his surprise.

“If it’s too late, I can just go.” you gesture sheepishly.

He’s always surprised when you come here on your own volition.

“It’s not,” he denies, “I was closing up too early anyways.”

You pick out your usual onigiri flavors and quickly pay up. As soon as you turn your back, Osamu stammers at you.

“I-I’m cooking up some stuff at the back. Do you want to stay and eat? Think of it as a return favor for the other week.” he refers to the episode of his sick day.

You’re caught off guard but you slowly nod your head to agree. You hadn’t had Osamu’s cooking in a while and it was getting quite late. He opens the door for you and you follow him towards the back of his shop.

In a messy plastic table, you see an array of salads and pickles with different kinds of miso soup laid out. You feel almost intrusive, even more than last week.

You set the table. Osamu fetches hot rice.

It feels unnecessary for you to be here especially if he is with someone else. You do your best to keep your mouth shut. This is a friendly return of favor.

Osamu notices how unusually quiet you are. He chats you up about work. He tries his best to be animated and show interest in your latest project. He asks about your coworkers and your work environment. Were you having fun? Do you get to eat on time?

For dessert, he brings out mochi wrapped in leaves.

“It’s made by the girl I was telling you about.” he remarks, while clearing the dishes.

“Oh,” your heart sinks. You get up and leave, feeling humiliated by your naivety. Of course he’s with her. You feel stupid for even hoping.

You’re about to walk out when he comes back in. “Apparently, she’s been secretly in a relationship with another chef in her family inn. They recently got married and are hoping to start a family soon. She sent these down to inform me. I suppose that solves the problem of having to see someone outside of work—”

He sees you standing. Confusion runs through his expression.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Just stretching…” you lie.

You want to shoot yourself in the foot in embarrassment.

When realization dawns on him, Osamu looks crestfallen. Any energy left in his body abandons him. He sighs, resigned.

“It’s ok if you want to go,” he nods, “Or if I’m making you uncomfortable.”

He bites his lip and looks down on his shoes. The room is still and pregnant with silence.

“I really am just stretching. My hip feels wonky from sitting all day.” you insist with some renewed energy. You grab hold of the pot on the table. “Also, can we get some more hot water? Tea would be nice with the mochi and it’s kind of gone cold.”

He offers to make another pot, relief evident on his face.

“I’ll go heat up the water.” he walks to the kettle, “Are you sure you want dessert?”

You sit back down.

“Yeah, I want to stay.” you murmur. For once you don’t go running to the door.

He glances at you, content, a small smile creeping on his face. ——————————————————

Atsumu, Osamu’s twin brother, always finds himself in his brother’s kitchen every time he visits. He doesn’t mind too much though. It gives them something to do when they catch up.

“Samu, you can’t still be moping around your ex!” Atsumu exclaims. He’s washing Osamu’s dishes as his brother prepares for their meal.

“I’m not ready to get back out there.” Osamu waves dismissively.

Atsumu flicks some water his way. “You’re just not open to seeing someone else.”

His words clearly prick Osamu who throws flour into his face. Atsumu dodges right on time and flicks some flour right back.

Some flour grazes Osamu’s sleeve. He sighs and dusts himself.

“It’s tough, because I’m working all the time. This job doesn’t pay too much and it’s not glamorous. Who’d wanna date someone like me?” he murmurs.

“That’s why you gotta date around to find out!” Atsumu emphasizes, “Maybe you’ll even find someone who might help you with your business when you get married.”

Osamu obstinately shakes his head. “It’s not as easy as you think.”

Atsumu dries his hand and carefully observes his brother. He puts his towel down onto the kitchen counter and raises his brow, “Or maybe I should just give you advice on getting back together.’

As if right on cue, Osamu slams his hand down onto the counter, “I hate that we still haven’t gotten back together. This is killing me!”

Atsumu chuckles in satisfaction. He’s hit the nail right on the head.

“Why has nothing happened yet? I’m already in the city!” Osamu continues on, “They can cook too! Did you know that?! I wish we can skip to the part where we can settle down.”

He vigorously gestures in frustration.

“I cannot! I just cannot move on until I know I’ve given everything to make this work and yet every time I see them all I do is offer them food!”

Atsumu places his hand on his brother’s shoulder, “You need to be more strategic about it. Here’s what you need to do…”

———————————————————————————

Osamu takes a deep breath before knocking at your door. He holds a bag of onigiri in one hand and whatever courage he has in another.

One knock, then another. He hasn’t been this nervous in a long while.

When you open the door, his ear picks up on a male voice inside your house. Combined with your expression, he realizes that he’s come at an inconvenient time.

“I brought you something.” he tries to smile despite the sweat pooling, “I made you lunch. I just wanted to make sure you were eating. We don’t have to talk. I just wanted to give this to you.”

He tries to look past your shoulder, attempting to glimpse at your guests.

“Are you seeing someone else by any chance?” he blurts out, “I want to clarify before I make any more free deliveries.”

You frown. “That’s none of your business, Osamu. You should leave.”

Your frankness pierces something within him. He hadn’t expected to be rejected so quickly.

Osamu’s eyes widen and his mouth drops. He quickly gathers himself before he gets disheartened.

“I want you to give me a second chance. You loved me so deeply. Maybe you can find love in me again.” he says quietly.

“I thought I was too much of a city girl for you,” you retort, despite lacking an edge in your voice. You notice his hands tightly clutching the plastic bag.

The noise at the back seems to melt away. It’s like you’re back in that party, standing too close to each other near the coat rack and the door.

“Maybe you’re not.” his shoulders gracefully go up and down.

You shook your head wryly, “Osamu, I haven’t changed. I like my job and the city. I’m not the life and business partner that you’re looking for. I’m just a customer and we should keep it that way.”

“I can stop if you like.” he offers meekly, putting his hands behind his back.

“Yeah, you should. You’ve hurt me so much.” you cover your mouth with your hands while you try not to sob, “There’s nothing to go back to.”

“I’m sorry I ended things the way I did.” he looks away, “Seeing you walk by me every day feels like penitence…“

You close the door before he says anymore.

Osamu gazes longingly at the door. It’s only now that the full weight of losing you sinks in.

—————————————— “How’d it go?” Atsumu calls to check on Osamu.

Osamu sucks in his breath, his palm pressed on his temple. Atsumu braces himself, this doesn’t sound good.

“They had someone else over.” Osamu is seething in frustration and angry tears.

“Calm down. Were they alone? Or was it a friend group?” Atsumu ’s mind races. He sifts through the situation in an attempt to placate his brother.

“Yeah? No? I don’t know.” Osamu snaps, “They told me she didn’t want to talk about it. Your advice sucks!”

Osamu walks most of the way home. When he catches sight of his store, he curses. He had left his damn bike at your apartment complex! The universe is not giving him any breaks today.

He sighs and continues towards his store. He had a friend watch it while he was away. He’ll have to come pick up after he closes the store.

Throughout the rest of the day, he tries to push you out of his mind. By the time he closes the store, he is bursting at the seams with anticipation to make his way back to your apartment.

Before he sets off, he sees your figure wheeling his bike towards him.

“You left your bike.” you breathe out. You fish something out of your pocket and toss him the key to his bike lock, “You left this in your lock too.”

“Every time you see me, I just look dumber and dumber.” he sighs in exasperation.

You can’t help but burst into laughter at his candidness. He perks up a bit. He hasn’t made you laugh in a while. Of course he’d rather have you laugh with him than at him. Still, this was a start right?

"Did Atsumu put you up to this?" you chuckle, handing the bike over.

“Yeah, how did you know?” he asks dumbfounded.

“I just do.” you scoff, “It’s not like you to show up on people’s doors.”

He sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, “Sorry about that. It won’t happen again. It was a moment of weakness.”

Your eyes lower, framing the sad expression that sets into your face, “Yeah, it better not. I’ve moved on.”

You turn around to walk away. In a brief moment of courage, he cups his hands around his mouth.

“I’m not ready to move on from you and if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.” he calls out.

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

Taglist: @itstheee-ha-chan @kaizumi @holaaaf @glxar​

Comment or message to be added to the taglist! I’m definitely making a part 2!

[jordanstrophe]

Can I go home with you?

CW: Pet whump, conditioned whumpee, collar, hair pulling, bargaining for the whumpee, punishment mentioned, f l u f f

Caretaker pushed their tiny cart around the grocery store. They noticed a thin figure struggling to lift an entire pack of water off the shelf as they lost their balance as it fell to the floor with a *bang!* 

Whumpee cringed with a gasp as they looked around embarrassingly, their face turning red.

‘'Hey! Do you need help with that?” Caretaker asked, quickly zipping up with their cart about scaring the poor thing. They spun around looking up at them fearfully.

That’s when Caretaker noticed the collar.

They were a pet.

“Oh... I’m sorry I didn-” Caretaker silenced their thoughts. It didn’t matter if they were a pet or not. They just don't see one often, especially not out and about by themselves like this.

“I-I’m so-sorry.” Whumpee stuttered, their shoulders hunched up defensively. Caretaker gave them a warm smile. “You’re alright. You’ll need a cart for that, do you have one?”

“M-m-my master has one. They sent me to fe-fetch this, they’re a couple isles d-down.” They shyly stuttered. 

“Okay! Why don’t we go find them then? I’ll help you with this.” Caretaker smiled.

“R-really?” Whumpee beamed, a joyful expression beamed across their face.

“Thank you! Thank you so much! I didn’t know how I was going to get it back to them, I didn’t want to be punishe-'' They slapped a hand over their own lips. 

“Yes I would love the help, please.” They quickly changed their tone as they politely bowed. 

The stuttering and shyness had left them at the shred of kindness. They happily bounced up and down on their toes as Caretaker hoisted the pack of water in their arms and followed Whumpee. They slowed their pace until Whumpee randomly stopped, their head glancing back just an inch.

“C-c-can you... Can I come home wh-with you?” They murmured.

“W-what?” Caretaker asked, taken by surprise. 

Whumpee didn’t respond, or even move from their position. After a moment, they turned back and continued like nothing happened.

Caretaker was stunned, but followed. Had they heard them correctly? No... They must have said something else.

They made it to the owner, someone with a cold expression and distant eyes. Their head snapped in their direction as their face twisted into disappointment. 

“Hey! Where’s the water, hmm?” They hissed. 

“I-.. I couldn’t lift it... But this nice person he-helped me!” They gave a guilty smile.

“Are you kidding me?! I sent you to do one job and you get someone else to do it! You ungrateful little thing!” Whumper yelled, their hand cruelty digging into their hair as they let out a yelp.

“Hold on! Cut them some slack, they couldn’t lift it. Even I can barely lift this thing.” Caretaker laughed, trying to lighten the mood as they slammed the water into the cart much heavier than intended. 

Whumper’s eyes glared at them, but softened just a sliver.

“I’m so sorry my pet bothered you. It won’t happen again, I’ll make sure of it.” They growled, jerking Whumpee closer by their hair as they gripped Whumper's wrist with both hands, desperate for an inch of slack. 

“I should just throw you away... What good are you even?” They hissed in the pet's ear.

“Then why don’t I take them off your hands!” Caretaker shouted without even thinking.

Both of their heads slowly cranked over to them, staring in shock. Whumper in confusion, Whumpee with a glimmer of hope and excitement. 

“What are you even-” -”I can pay you as well. Name a price.” Caretaker didn’t want to come off as a joke, or mockery, so they kept their face still and stern. 

“Really? You’ll buy them just like that, hmm? What’s so special about them?” They gave Whumpee a harsh shake as they grunted.

“You tell me, they’re your pet. What’s so special about them to you?” Caretaker shrugged.

Whumper’s lips kept opening and closing to bite with a comeback, but they couldn't come up with anything. They ended up naming a price that was quite absurd and probably double for what they paid.

But it was a human life. A price Caretaker would gladly pay.   

... Even if it cleared out their savings for the next decade. 

Whumpee’s face was stuck in a wide expression as they stood blankly at Caretaker’s side, hardly believing what had happened.

“Hey.” Caretaker nudged gently as Whumpee snapped out of it, blinking up at them.

“Why don’t we go home?” They smiled.

Whumpee smiled back with a nod as they latched onto Caretaker’s arm with a nuzzle. 

Tag list: @grizzlie70  @alien-octopus @lave-whump @amethysts-sideblog  @whump-it-like-its-hot  @thingsthatgowhumpinthenight @yet-another-heathen @princessofonward @whatwhumpcomments  @ill-eat-you-if-you-cross-me @mascmasochist @hamiltonwhumpdump

o(^∀^*)o Thank you for reading!

[lenaariewrld]

content loading

KUROO — 8. a strange feeling

You wake up when you feel an unexpected weight suddenly placed on your chest, a gentle rumbling echoing through your ribcage. Your eyes peek open to see your cat, a shark hat strapped under her chin. “Bimmie!” You coo sleepily, your arms cradling the cat and rubbing her spine. She arches her butt against your palms.

“Good morning. Time to get up,” Kuroo stands at the foot of your bed, fully dressed and staring at you over a mug of coffee. You turn your attention away from your cat to glare at him.

“What time is it?”

“Seven,”

“Fuck that,” You turn back to loving on your cat, scratching her ears and chin and rubbing the sides of her fluffy body. She purrs and coos from all the wonderful attention, kneading her paws into you particularly hard when she enjoys the rubs you give her. A gentle laugh leaves you when she finally decides she has had enough and she saunters her way to the space on your bed not occupied by humans, curling up and tucking her paws beneath herself.

Kuroo is still standing by your bed and waiting for you to get up. You sigh and sit up, frowning deeply. “Why am I getting up so early for?” You ask, “It better be for those good pancakes, or else I will kill you,” You threaten softly.

The man chuckles, watching you get up sluggishly. His amusement continues as you drag yourself around the room to gather your proper materials for waking up and being a functioning member of society. Because mornings do not make you look like a functional member of society.

He seats himself in your chair while you leave to head to your bathroom.

“We need to go grocery shopping... I got the others to make lists of things they wanted or needed, what meals we could make, and all that. I just need someone to keep track of the list,” He informs you, spinning the chair to look around your room.

The walls are decorated with posters of your favorite characters from anime and tv shows you like, shelves stacked with manga or figurines from games you’ve adored. Your desk is a neat mess of gaming things and just cute knick-knacks that make it look more you. Kuroo finds himself smiling at it all.

The bathroom door opens sometime later and he turns his head to hear you if you should speak. “Okay, I’m assuming this is your roundabout way of telling me if I go, you’ll buy me snacks?” You pose the question, rubbing a towel over your head to dry your hair.

Kuroo hums.

“You got a deal,” He finally declares, a cheeky smile flashing in your direction. You sarcastically smile back, heading to your closet and grabbing clothes to change into. Kuroo once again takes the time to look around your room.

You don’t go through your entire morning routine this time, deciding to save the man the trouble and put it off until you feel more energized to actually have thoughts. Instead, you just settle for a good shower and clean clothes. Kuroo waits patiently for you the entire time, standing up and holding out his mug for you. To your surprise, it’s not his coffee but yours, made exactly how you like it.

A funny warmth spreads in your chest, and you haven’t even drank the coffee yet.

“Thank you,” You hum, following him downstairs and towards the front door, nursing your mug the whole way. It’s not piping hot so drinking larger gulps is much easier.

You make a quick stop in the kitchen to transfer your coffee to a more portable cup before heading outside. Kuroo is waiting for you once again, a patient smile on his face.

The whole drive he plays soft music, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. You notice he only moves his pointer finger or pinkie to drum.

“Okay,” You brace yourself in your seat, wiggling your body as much as you can to face Kuroo more. “What is the plan this time, chief?” You raise your brow and slide your cup into the cup holder that separates the driver and passenger seat.

“I’ve already organized the shopping list into different categories so we can just go from aisle to aisle and get it all rather than jumping throughout the whole store,” Kuroo says, “It’s on my phone,” He adds before you can question where this oh-so-meticulously put-together list is. Instead, you nod. Kuroo smiles and hands you the device from his sweatpants pocket.

“Add your snacks,”

The rest of the drive is short and helps wake you up completely. By the time Kuroo parks and you climb out, you have the energy to ransack a whole 7-11. Hypothetically.

Kuroo leads you inside, letting you push the cart and being, for once, responsible about the shopping while you trail behind with a small smile. He tells you all the tips for making sure vegetables are ripe or fruits are the kind of look and taste you might want, how to get the best quality of items without overpaying, and what to look for when buying fresh meat.

Admittedly, you are indulging him. You know a good portion of the tips (let’s be honest, who doesn’t know how to make sure an apple or a tomato is good?). However, his happiness to tell you and his earnest helpfulness are refreshing.

“Do you eat salads?” You question as he turns the third variety of lettuce in his hand, inspecting it for bug bites and dirt. “Because that’s the only thing I can think of why you need multiple kinds of lettuces,” You add when he looks at you. Kuroo pouts.

“Don’t be mean,” He huffs. You giggle.

“Then put down the lettuce. Stick to the list. And I don’t see three types of lettuces on here,”

Kuroo sets down the lettuce and turns to you, lightly keeping his hand on the cart. He leans close to you as if preparing to share a secret. “What if I just wanted us all to be healthier?” He says, adding a ‘hmm’ at the end as if he owned you with his sick hypothetical logic. You bump his shoulder and keep pushing the cart past all the leafy vegetables.

“As if you care,”

Kuroo dramatically slaps his hand over his chest. “I am wounded, muffin,” He leans over the cart to lay against your back, laughing as you try to shove him off. However, he was an athlete in high school and still kind of works out thanks to Bokuto being his roommate. You, who has never even looked at an exercise machine, are not as strong as him, and struggle to move him.

“You’re wounding me now!” You shove his bicep, earning a laugh from him. He only drapes his arms around your shoulders, relaxing his body against you further without actually hurting you.

A few other shoppers in the store look at you two. It’s mainly older women, and they simply smile at the two of you and shuffle past without saying anything.

How cute they are, they must think, so happy.

You finally manage to get Kuroo off of you and continue the shopping trip, now with a lot fewer distractions. You make Kuroo keep one hand on the cart as a precaution, reading off items he needs to grab. He doesn’t pout or complain, simply nodding along and going with what you say.

“I know this song,” You comment as you push the cart farther into an aisle. You strain your ears to hear the music faintly playing over the store’s speakers, a smile spreading on your lips as you recognize the tune you had listened to on repeat before. “It’s one of my favorites,”

“Really?” Kuroo carefully grabs a jar of jam and sets it in the car basket. You hum and nod. He smiles back and crosses his arms as he leans on the side of the cart, watching your face. “Why did you like it?”

You stop pushing the cart to check the list. “Why wouldn’t I? It was a great dancing song,” You shrug and cross off the items the both of you already set in the cart. A good chunk of the list had been cleared, and you smile at how much you’ve already completed of this trip. You turn off the phone and hold it out for the man, letting him take it back.

“Show me?” Kuroo asks, holding out his hand. You let out a small laugh. Dancing in the middle of a store aisle sounds like something from a romantic book or movie. Gently, you take his hand and step closer to him. The shopping was temporarily forgotten.

You start leading him in a simple dance, stumbling through the motions as you try to hear the music over the other noises of the store. Kuroo chuckles and follows your lead, holding both your hands and twisting around the small space. A laugh bubbles in your throat and he twirls you, his hand coming around your waist to pull you in again. “You’re quite skilled!” You say, squeezing his hand twice.

He squeezes back.

Again, you feel a funny warmth in your chest. This time, paired with a fluttering in your stomach. Kuroo’s smile never fades as he stares at you, continuing the silly made-up dance you both perform.

“You’re the one leading, I should say that about you,” Kuroo once again twirls you. You release one of his hands and extend your arm, twirling back in until your back hits his chest. You giggle. “See?” He comments, humming along to the song.

You both rock back and forth like that for a moment.

“Now you’re just being cheesy,” You tease, stepping away from the man. He shakes his head playfully, brushing off your words. You run your fingers through your hair, clearing your throat. “We should get back to the shopping,” You take the cart again. Kuroo is right behind you, already with a new item from the list in his hand. He sets it in the basket before placing his hand back on the handle.

You pat the back of his hand, relaxing your hand over his absentmindedly.

The shopping continues like normal, with occasional breaks for Kuroo to look at items or point out interesting things he sees. It’s quick work, and you find yourself at the checkout before you know it, packing your items into bags and carrying them to the car.

The strange stomach twisting doesn’t die down. Even when you unpack the bags with Kuroo, roping Kageyama and Bokuto into helping you both put all the groceries away, it sticks.

Strange.

previous | masterlist | next

funfacts:

Kuroo is in charge of the grocery shopping because he’s the only one who likes doing it

Kenma or Yamaguchi usually go shopping with Kuroo but he decided to torment you instead

taglist: @odxrilove @pogpixelz @toshiswifey @thechaosoflonging @anime-meme-sanctuary @chaseyui @lucyrocks86 @mirikusashes @bolinhodadestruicao @w0rm-babie @fandomsgotmefucked @meena-in-a-nutshell @halcyondaisy @emisse @cerealfrdinner797 @sakusasimpbot

[sterek8nights]

Thanksgivukkah

I wrote a short thing based on my little random idea the other day. Just some holiday-induced-panic fluff!

(Id there's enough interest, maybe I'll add the actual holiday shenanigans)

***

"Oh god, what were we thinking," Stiles groans, shuffling through the papers and sticky notes on the table in front of him for what feels like the three-hundredth time that day. The muffled thunk of him banging his head on the table's surface makes Derek wince.

"Stiles," Derek says patiently, racing across the table to run his fingers through the man's hair soothingly.

Stiles turns his head to shoot a glare at his newly-minted fiance, and Derek suppresses a grin. "We must be out of our minds, Der. Hosting Thanksgiving and Hanukkah, three days apart? What were we thinking? This'll be the first year with both our families together for the holidays, plus all the puppies, and we're doing it twice in a week?"

"Stiles," Derek begins again, a small smile curling his lips, and fondness shining in his gaze, "It's going to be fine. I promise everyone will get along just fine, and--"

Stiles groans again, louder and more drawn out. "Oh crap, I didn't even think about that part, what if your mom and my dad don't like each other? What if Erica and Laura's snarky teasing thing turns into an actual argument? What-"

"Babe, hey. Hey," Derek interrupts, "First of all, our parents have known each other for years," he puts a finger over Stiles' lips when he tried to argue, and continues "I know they haven't seen each other in a long time, and I know they don't know each other as in-laws, but they do like each other. And I know for a fact that you would basically sell tickets and popcorn if Laura and Erica did start fighting. So," Derek ignores Stiles' narrowed eyes and rolls ahead "What are you actually worried about?"

Stiles sighs, and briefly turns his head into Derek's hand where he's still gently petting his head before sitting up and gesturing at all the papers. "There's so many people to coordinate, and arrival schedules, and two different menus, and hotel reservations, and grocery shopping, and I really want them all to love me-- it. The holidays. With us."

Derek smiles as Stiles winds down, knowing there's more coming.

"And seriously? Why do we use the lunar calendar? If we didn't, Hanukkah wouldn't move around all willy-nilly every year, and we could just relax! Why aren't you mad about the fickleness of the lunar calendar with me, Derek?"

Derek's mouth opens to reply, but he has no real answer, so it just closes again, and he tilts his head before trying again, but his mouth just shuts again, and his brow furrows a little in concentration. Stiles mirrors him for a moment, trying to figure out the reason for the face Derek's making at him.

When it hits him, he makes a choking sort of sound and slaps both hands over his mouth to try to keep the hysterical laughter that's crawling up his throat from escaping.

It works, until Derek deadpans "I don't anything about the lunar calendar and it's inconveniences, tell me more," then it bursts out of him in gasping peals of laughter, but Derek joins him-- in much more dignified giggles.

"Oh, man. I'm so sorry, Der; I don't know what's wrong with me. But that was… that was ridiculous, oh my god," he says, catching his breath as his laughter peters out. "Hilarious, though, right?"

Derek's smile is wide and brilliant, and Stiles falls in love a little more, just like he does every time Derek smiles at him. "Hilarious," Derek says, more sincerely than he intended, as he wasn't quite done teasing.

"Stiles, it's going to be great," and the sincerity is still there, so Stiles believes him. "Now come on, let's make a list of everyone's flight times, and double check who is picking up who. And we can go over the grocery list over milkshakes and burgers before we go to the store, and finalize the menu."

Stiles grabs Derek's face and leans over the table to kiss him soundly. "I love you so much, Derek Hale."

"I know," Derek says before kissing him back through a smile. 

"Hey, do you think apple pie sufganiyot would be any good?" Derek asks when they've parted and Stiles is making a neat stack of the scattered papers.

Stiles gasps softly, "Thanksgivukkah! You're a genius! How do you feel about sweet potato casserole latkes?" 

Derek can only shake his head and laugh, and say "I'm in," as Stiles reels him in for another kiss.

[maymyheartbmyguidingkey]

aren’t we a nice pear

you can blame @duelistkingdom​ for this, not me

Yugi was quickly learning that certain fruits may have been tough to come by during the 18th dynasty - if not non-existent.

His first clue was when he brought a coconut back to the apartment, intending to make his famous coconut curry and sticky rice.

Atem had peeked into his grocery bags, adorably curious (Sugoroku had always done the grocery shopping, and rarely did he ever obtain fresh fruits), and had gasped dramatically, startling Yugi so badly he nearly jumped out of his own skin.

"What? What's wrong? I swear to god, if I broke the eggs -"

But when Yugi swivelled to survey the damage, he found instead Atem holding a coconut aloft, reverently.

His shoulders fell.

"A coconut," Atem hissed. "When father would return from his diplomatic travels he would near always bring coconuts. The juice was divine."

Yugi rolled his eyes good-naturedly and returned to putting away their groceries. "You almost gave me a heart attack over a coconut. What, were they not very popular in your time?"

Atem was silent for long enough that Yugi knew: if he looked back at him right now, he'd be met with an unfairly incredulous stare.

So Yugi turned to him, face resolutely deadpan, finding his prediction entirely correct.

"Yugi, my partner, light of my life -"

Yugi's eyebrows climbed into his hairline.

"- coconuts were an import," Atem said, like it was especially important, clutching the coconut to his chest as if it were a wounded animal. "Only the fabulously wealthy -" he pantomimed tossing hair over his shoulder, "could possibly afford such a luxury good."

Yugi snorted, finding the eggs (thankfully, in good shape) and placing them delicately in their designated spot in the fridge.

"Well you were fabulously wealthy, O dearest Pharaoh, so why are you clinging to it like a starving man?"

"Because coconuts are - what is it Jou always says? It is the most ridiculous - oh yes - lit."

Yugi froze, eyes squeezed shut. "Atem. My world. Dearest heart. Never say that again."

But then his brain buffered. Wait a damn minute -

Eyes comically wide, Yugi said, "Wait. Atem. What kind of fruit did you have?"

Atem pursed his lips, tossing the coconut from hand to hand, resting his elbows on the quartz island between them. "Grapes. I rather liked those. Oh - figs, though I found them too sweet. Nabk -"

“Atem,” Yugi pressed, suddenly desperate, “what’s a strawberry?”

Atem blinked, confused as to how and why the tone of their conversation shifted. “I... suppose I'm not quite sure? When you say the word, an image crops up, but I have not the faintest -”

Yugi was already grabbing his keys. “I'm going back to the store.”

“What on Earth -”

“I’ve been craving cherries anyway. Oh my god, and pomegran - no, wait, you guys had those, right? Pretty sure that was an 8th dynasty thing. Peaches! Pineapple? Holy - I need to learn how to slice a pineapple -”

“Yugi, my love, what is happening right now?”

“Oh, I’m so stupid,” Yugi scoffed, taking Atem by the hand, who squawked indignantly at his self-insult. He dragged Atem hurriedly to the front door, fumbling to slip on his shoes with only one hand. “You can just come with me.”

“Call yourself stupid one more time. I have hands now, Yugi. I can smack you.”

“Why, what better for me to kiss, my dear?” Yugi said, throwing his pharaoh a sly smirk, raising Atem’s knuckles to his lips. Atem’s face flushed a pretty red, and he stared pointedly down at his own backless loafers, grumpily slipping them on.

“Cheeky,” he mumbled, sounding secretly pleased.

☆

“Yugi. Where... what is this place?”

Yugi sent him a bright grin, squeezing Atem's hand where he held it in his jacket pocket. “This, O mighty Pharaoh, is the grocery store.”

Atem gawked at the various signage as Yugi dragged him to the cart well, snatching up a handbasket and promptly making a beeline for the produce section.

“Wait, wait, was that - was that a massive cart to wheel your groceries about in?” Atem asked, incredulous. “How affluent must you be to fill one of those?”

Yugi snorted. “I can't believe I never once brought you to a grocery store. Goes to show how often those lunches from 7/11 saved my life in high school.”

“Oh,” Atem said, staring at the wall of colorful greeting cards as they passed. “Well, this is delightful. It's much like the market, just. Indoors. And with fluorescent lighting.”

“Yeah, you get it,” Yugi encouraged, leaning over to kiss Atem’s temple firmly. “C'mon, this way.”

The produce section was lush today, what with it being a random Thursday afternoon, and Atem was already spotting things he had never seen before but knew the names of (thanks to the brain of a certain now-adult who he had often possessed when he was nothing but a no-name disembodied spirit).

“There! The - what was the word? - strawberries,” he chirped. “What kind of name is that, by the way?”

Yugi squeezed his hand twice, their mutual sign for it’s okay, grab it, holding the basket within Atem’s reach. “Says the guy with nabk. Throw ‘em in there, hot stuff.”

“The -” Atem blanched, holding up a packet of strawberries, confused. “All of them?”

Yugi raised his eyebrows. “Yes? What, you want me to open it and pluck out a single strawberry?”

“Well - wouldn’t - isn’t the whole thing expensive? They seem like they would be expensive.”

“Oh, no,” Yugi slid the basket to the crook of his elbow, swiping up a packet himself and giving the label a read. “Strawberries are one of Japan's biggest exports. Oooh, and I love amaou variety. Perfect for your first try.”

He gently took the packet from a stunned Atem’s hand and dropped both into the basket. Atem sputtered.

“That is - you can just, buy fruit en masse? Affordably?”

Yugi laughed quietly, spotting the pineapples and leading Atem toward them. “Maybe not as cheaply as in other places - we kind of have a thing for designer fruit here. But these packs are only ¥500 each.”

“Only how mu - oh my land, those are horrifying.”

“Yeah, if you’re not used to them, they’re pretty freaky,” Yugi acquiesced, reaching for a piece of the spiky fruit - only for Atem to slap his hand away.

Yugi whipped around to stare at him, bewildered. The look on Atem’s face wouldn’t be out of place beside the dictionary definition of appalled.

“My Yugi will most certainly not be touching the pointy death fruit!” he hissed, gesturing violently toward the pineapples, like his reaction was obvious. “I used to inhabit that body, you know.”

Yugi pressed his lips into a firm line, trying desperately not to burst into laughter.

“Atem. Pharaoh of my heart. My angel,” he whispered, taking a deep breath. “I love you so much. Just - watch this.”

And Yugi - while giving Atem a pointed, amused look - reached again for a pineapple, easily picking one from its perch by its uninviting body.

Atem, perplexed, brows raised in astonishment, stammered. “But - it - you -”

Yugi offered it to him. “It's not a cactus. Its bark is worse than its bite.”

Atem hesitated, but Yugi patiently held the pineapple toward him, nodding encouragingly when Atem met his eyes doubtfully.

And so Atem took it in his elegant, princely hands, brows furrowed in confusion when it did not, in fact, slice him to ribbons.

“But... it looks so evil.”

“Right? But it’s only poke-y. Honestly I just wanna meet the guy who saw one for the first time and immediately thought, “hey, I’m gonna crack this shit open and give it a taste”.”

☆

Yugi created a monster.

They had picked out a few more things for Atem to try, including the promised cherries and peaches (Atem giving a smug “now that is more like it” when he saw the peaches priced at two for ¥1990), but also some things that yugi had realized he took completely for granted: blueberries, kiwis - bananas. God, bananas.

Atem had also discovered that coconut water was sold by itself, in convenient single portions, and had happily trotted off to the self-checkout counter with a case of six, an endeared Yugi in tow.

It had been a week since that fateful day.

Atem sat on their cute little cream loveseat, newly-acquired and much-needed reading glasses on his nose and feet propped up on the matching ottoman, his current read in his lap. He held one of Yugi's many reusable water bottles in his hand, half-full with coconut water, blueberries, strawberries and ice floating prettily at the top. His bottle-holding arm was curled protectively around a bowl precariously perched on the arm rest, where he kept his (perfectly sliced) pineapple rings.

"Living in the lap of luxury, I see," Yugi said, plopping down beside Atem and draping himself directly atop the open book. He gazed up at his boyfriend, mischievous. "Lavish attention upon me as you do your precious books and fruits, O great Pharaoh."

Atem rolled his eyes, plucking a ring of pineapple from the bowl and tearing it in half. Yugi opened his mouth expectantly.

"Who said this was for you?" Atem snorted, popping one half in his mouth. "This is the last of it and you are a brat."

Yugi, as per usual, pouted to get his way. Atem, as per usual, was unable to resist said pout, huffing and presenting Yugi with the other half.

"A brat maybe, but loved by you nonetheless," he cheeked as he chewed.

"Exhibit A. Eat with your mouth closed; you are in the presence of royalty," atem said. "And sit properly, for goodness sake - you'll choke, and I refuse to have that on my conscience."

And sit properly Yugi did - mostly. He slung himself over Atem's shoulders, muttering into his neck, "You know, that's the third pineapple you've -"

"Ananas."

Yugi scoffed. Ever since Atem had Googled the Arabic name for the fruit (an adventure in it's own right), he refused to use anything else.

"Yes, ananas, yet somehow I’m the brat here," Yugi continued, "point being: it's the third one you've decimated this week. We just ran out of bananas, and I think that was the last pack of strawberries, too. I'm gonna go broke."

"This is fine. We can subsist off of fruit alone."

Yugi leaned back and stared into Atem's face, who had gone back to reading his book, unfazed. "You can subsist off of fruit alone. I need meat. Protein."

Atem pulled off his glasses and slapped the book shut, giving Yugi the most skeptical look he’d ever seen. "Yugi. You are a waif."

"Hey! No body-shaming here!" Yugi protested, pulling his legs up and into Atem's lap, again smothering the book. "All the more reason for me to have meat in my diet! I won't survive."

"You know, I used that miraculous thing - Google - and it told me that meat is actually quite bad for you. Did you know that humans only evolved to eat it because -"

Yugi groaned, stuffing his face back into the crook of Atem's neck, his next words muffled. "Google made my boyfriend health-conscious and now I can't have bacon. I'm sending corporate a strongly-worded email."

Atem's quiet laughter was like warm sunshine, and Yugi basked in it, the tell tale thunk of his water bottle being set on the side table music to his ears, as Atem could only be freeing his hand for one reason. He began to stroke Yugi's hair, and if Yugi could purr, the sound of it would reverberate through the entire apartment building.

They fell into a comfortable silence, only broken by the soft sounds of their chewing as they polish off the pineapple rings, Atem more than happy to continue feeding Yugi pieces.

"I may joke around," Yugi finally whispered, like they were the only two who existed in the universe, "but you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I'd sell my kidney to buy you whatever you wanted."

Yugi felt a puff of a laugh against the crown of his head; the press of Atem's lips. "No need to go to such extremities, precious one. You are all I would ever wish for."

[mistress-of-ward]

Assisting Mr. Cavill

Chapter 3:

Pairings: female character x Henry Cavill

Warning: smut

mention of polycystic ovarian syndrome, I do have this personally and it really does a lot to my mental and physical health. So love to ladies who have it and to let you know that you are not alone. Also please understand not everyone goes through PCOS the same way.

"Mm… my .... uh ... how you like your coffee and that I need to get you cream. Also it's a delivery service, I don't have to do it myself." I looked over my shoulder watching his hands.

"Not bad," he whispered, his lips pressing on my neck and shoulder then his tongue slowly running over the shell of my ear. "Procedures for a letter?" He bent me over the desk and I felt my skirt rising.

I instinctively arched, sucking in a breath that ended in a moan. He bit my ear gently, making me gasp softly. "Go on." He gently pulled my hips into his and I squirmed like I was in heat.

"I grow...impatient." he growled, and another whimper escaped me as I felt the hardness against me. "I would rather release than discipline you..."

His hand traveled up and into my underwear. I cried out softly as I felt his finger push inside me, feeling embarrassed because I knew I was wet for him. "Now, or so help me no one goes anywhere."

“Depends on the letter, sir,” I moaned softly. I gasped as I felt him stroke my gspot, "oh, sir." I leaned on the desk for support as his other hand explored the rest of my body.

“The ones,” he growled softly.  “What you learned today.”

“All need to be saved in both our folders, and the printed copy must be signed!” I cried out, gripping the desk.

“Good girl,” he slapped my backside, and I moaned. He did a sharp intake of breath and bent over to murmur in my ear. “I chose well, didn’t I? How do I reward you, pet?” He pushed two of his middle fingers inside me, and my juices flowed over it. “Good?”

“Mmm, yes!” I cried out softly, tears in my eyes. And then he pulled out and spanked me again, his fingers stabbing my core. He did it over and over and I moaned and cried out.

He gently went to his executive bathroom and brought back a cloth to clean me. “You will do fine working for me, pet.” He said, gently stroking me through the towel. “Let’s see what tomorrow holds.” He finished, kissing my sweaty eyebrow and moving away. It turned to see him putting on his clothes. “Good night, sweet dreams.” He left me in the office, wanting him, and not forgetting the outline of his erection in his slacks cleverly covered by his suit jacket.

Yesterday was a lesson I won’t forget, I told myself as I hurried to work. My body kept reacting to the memory of being up against him, the feeling of his touch as I was bent over his desk. As I went to grab his cream and sugar for coffee at the grocery store, I wondered what today would hold. I made it to the office and headed to the kitchen to make his coffee. I did it quickly and walked in with a knock.

"May i come in sir? I brought you your coffee sir."

“You’re a little late.” He slightly raised his eyebrow. “My coffee?” He puts out his hand.

I became wary and excited at the same time, slowly walking over to bring him his coffee. He took the coffee from me and set it on his desk. I turned to go and in one second he had risen and pulled me against him.

“My coffee should be on that coaster, hot and ready for me when I come in.” I trembled and he smirks. “Wet is a given, wouldn’t you say?”

I could only nod.

He set me on his desk easily and I felt my stomach flip-flop feeling  his biceps shift as he did it.

“No slacks, Ms. Chand.” He licks your neck. “That will earn you a red bottom and a new skirt. Understood?”

I moaned involuntarily, hoping I didn’t bring him my caramel macchiato. As he held me on the desk I tried to look at his cup. He picked his up and took a sip, and I watched for his reaction.

"Caramel macchiato?" His eyes narrowed.

"I-I’m sorry, I brought the wrong cup of coffee--" I couldn’t seem to escape his embrace as I struggled to go and get the cup on my desk. "I-I can go get it, it's on my desk, honest mistake." I stopped resisting and looked into his eyes. “I can go grab your cup of coffee sir, just let me go and--"

"No," He shook his head, staring me down. He reached over and opened his desk drawer. "Here is what you will serve my coffee in. You will hand wash it every day. Clear?"

The cup was a blend of ornate silver and glass, not looking like it should be in an office with its Celtic design. I watched him pour MY coffee into his cup and frown. What...?

"This is yours," he pulled out another cup made of the same elements but my silver design was more floral. "If I see another cup on your desk, I will not...be...pleased." I watched him sip it.

"Caramel...I like it." He licked his lips slowly. "So, I guess cream will no longer suffice. I want this every morning now."

He stared down at me as he moved aside. I got off the desk.  “But that’s my—okay, sir.”

He poured the last of my coffee into the cup and smiled. I smiled back and took my new cup to my desk.

Suddenly I get a call on my desk phone. I saw it was him, and I picked up.

"What was one of our first lessons, pet?" He asked. I could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Everything here is yours." I said simply, licking my lips.

"Good girl." I could hear him on the phone and from his office though his voice was low I realized he was watching me.

“Come here.” When I got up and went to him yet again, he smiled. "You want some of MY coffee? I'll share more today, if you like."

I smiled back, "No, I'm ok thanks." I moved back, "with your permission I'd like to start my day sir." My stomach growled and he frowned.

“You haven't eaten?" he asked incredulously. He held my hands in his and said with concern I couldn’t miss, "Just like getting dressed for work, a morning meal and coffee are also mandatory."

“Mine is at my desk, now if you’d be so kind as to let me go eat," Hearing that I said the last word too hard, I added, “I will be forever grateful l." I said in my airy low voice.

Taglist: @ah-blossom @nitannichionne @summersong69 @henrycavillworld @henrycavillunited @henrycavill1 @aquariuslavenderhoney @viking-raider @madbaddic7ed @madelinelina @stripper-patrick @star017 @scorpionchild81 @thedaringfriend   @pringlepapi @seriouslygoodlookinggents @littlefreya @snowbellexx @loverofallfandoms99 @cavilliciousness @tiffanypooh @fuckoffbard @sugarmelonwater @unicornbitchface @could-be-cavill @daydreamin83 @sausagefest1996 @little-brattyangel @henryobsessed @henryfanfics101 @sofiebstar @modernmorticiaa @cavillvirus @lady-evans @exchelsior @lindsaytriestowrite @madelinelina @dancingwendigo ​ ​ @cavillforever ​ ​@henrycavilledits ​ @henrycavillobsessed ​ @gioiswriting ​ @tricenorthman-blog ​ @henrythickcavill ​ @aestheticallywinchester ​ @dearlybelovedluke ​ @kinbhot4henners @readermia @thatdamncutegirl

[ghosttotheparty]

when everything falls into place and youre finally within reach

Abed takes another deep breath, blinking at himself in the mirror. His fingers rub on the fabric of his hoodie, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth over the subtle ribbing on the cuffs of the sleeves. Sleeves that belong to his hoodie, not Troy’s, though the hoodie he wore yesterday was Troy’s. And the day before. And the day before. And most of the days before that too. He knows Jeff and the others noticed, but he appreciates them not saying anything, not pointing it out. 

He also knows it must have been hard for Britta to not say anything, to not use her master psychology skills to talk about the effect his missing Troy has had on him. (If she did talk about it, it would take hours. If she wrote a thesis on his missing Troy it would be encyclopaedia length. Pages and pages and pages and pages about him and the damn hoodies, him and the photos on the walls, the photos he took with him to L.A. for a year and then took back, because he couldn’t handle being away from a place Troy had called home.) 

He’s counted the days. And the hours. 

He spent four hundred seventy days, twenty hours, and twenty-four minutes in L.A. 

It didn’t feel like home for a second. 

He does miss it on occasion, just specific things. The park near his apartment building that has geese. The water pressure in his shower. The nice old lady that worked at the cafe, that always handed him his coffee with a smile. But he doesn’t want to move back. It was noisy. There were always more people than he anticipated, especially at the grocery store. He ended up buying earplugs to use on his grocery runs, to muffle out the radio, the people talking and laughing, the sounds of cards squealing on the tile floors and bumping into each other, the electric buzzing of the lights and refrigerators. Overwhelming. 

And it’s been one thousand, seven-hundred, thirty-seven days, nine hours, and thirty-six minutes since Abed saw Troy last. 

Too long. 

Abed started to ache just a few days after he left, a soft ache in his heart and in his arms. An ache he could only describe as longing, if he had described it to anyone out loud. It’s a persistent ache, and he still feels it as he takes yet another breath, listening to the voices outside the bathroom. Britta and Jeff’s bickering, Annie whining, “You guys…” and Shirley saying “Hands off,” aggressively, presumably to Frankie, who, Abed has discovered, has a propensity to sneak bites of food before it’s ready. 

He feels happy, even with these aches and anxiety, happy that Shirley is back, even just for a visit. Her hugs are warm, and she always smells good, even if the scents are strong and overpowering to Abed. She squeezed him around the middle when they reunited, and he had giggled, letting her sway them back and forth before letting go and letting her pinch his cheeks. 

And he’s happy Annie moved back too. He remembers saying goodbye to her at the airport, hugging and watching, unsure of what to do, as she wiped tears from under her eyes. She had been smiling as she cried, though, which only confused him further. She seemed to understand. “I’m going to miss you, Abed,” she’d said. “Promise you’ll email?” And he’s hooked his pinky around hers, nodding and pulling her into another hug, finally letting go and watching her disappear before finding his way to his gate. She’d squealed loudly when they reunited, much like Shirley, and she’d jumped, tackling him in a hug. 

Abed is startled out of his memories when Frankie calls his name gently from the hallway. 

“Abed? You okay?” 

“Coming!” he calls back, not breaking eye contact with himself, and his mouth twists as he adjusts his hoodie, unzipping it a little, trying to look… at ease. 

His heart hasn’t stopped pounding since this morning, since Britta and Frankie arrived. His therapist (not Britta) says excitement and anxiety often feel the same: racing heart, shaky hands, breathlessness, restlessness. It’s frustrating. Abed knows he should be excited; Troy is coming home for fuck’s sake. Finally.

But as he walks to the kitchen to join the others, he can’t help worrying. 

What if he doesn’t like how Abed redid the apartment? (It’s the same apartment they lived in before Abed went to L.A. It’s different, though; there’s no blanket fort, the photos are rearranged on the walls, the TV is in a different place.) 

What if he doesn’t like Inspector Spacetime anymore? (The thought of it runs a jolt through Abed. He doesn’t know how he would deal with that.) What if he’s just different? Over four and a half years. He must be different. They’ve emailed, of course, and Troy even sent Abed postcards, from Venezuela (Troy said on the back that he finally got the opportunity to use some Spanish), Morocco, France, and Italy (“You would love the pasta here, Abed.”).

Abed forces a smile onto his face as he enters the kitchen, looking from Annie’s beaming face to Shirley’s focused face as she rolls out some dough. Jeff and the others have given up on the whole baking can’t be a personality trait thing. Shirley’s pies are too yummy. Abed looks at Jeff’s face, and Britta’s face, and Frankie’s face, which smiles when their eyes meet. And Chang, who somehow became invited. (Abed thinks it was something like a default invitation.) They all appear to be excited, which just pulls the knot in his stomach tighter. Why is he the only one feeling nervous? Frankie doesn’t even know Troy, shouldn’t she be the nervous one? She’s at a Welcome Home party for a stranger. (Though a part of Abed disagrees. Abed loves Troy, and Abed loves Frankie, so really, they’re a family, even if they’ve never met.) 

“Smells good, Shirley,” he says, leaning against the counter and tucking his hands in his pockets. “What time is it?” he asks Jeff before Shirley can respond. 

“Almost six-thirty.” Jeff takes a sip from his glass of scotch. “He should be here any second.” 

Abed’s stomach takes another dive and he nods as Annie squeals. 

“I’m so excited,” she says, bouncing up and down on her feet. 

“Me too,”  Britta says from where she’s perched on the counter. “I bet he has a ton of stories of crazy adventures and--” 

“He’s been on a boat for four years, Britta,” Jeff interrupts. “Let’s calm down.” 

“Storms, Jeffrey.”

“Yeah, true.” 

There’s a knock at the door, and Abed thinks he might throw up. 

Britta and Annie both scream, and Britta jumps off the counter, stumbling as she lands on the floor, trying desperately to beat Annie to the front door, and Shirley squeals, rushing to rip off her oven mitts and untie her apron, and as Jeff yells, “Trooyyy!” Frankie moves out of the way, pressing herself against a counter as she laughs. Abed hangs back, following Shirley into the living room to watch as the front door opens and--

Cool.

Cool cool cool.

Troy is standing there, grinning with his shoulders hunched, his arms already raised slightly, ready for Annie to leap into, and Abed is sure everybody in the building can hear her high voice exclaim, “Oh my god!” 

And Abed is frozen, watching. Noticing. 

Troy’s hair is longer, tight curls circling his head like a halo, and he has a short beard, scruffy and soft-looking. It’s still Troy. Effortlessly beautiful.

Abed is jostled out of his trance by Shirley, accidentally pushed as she sprints to the door, shoving Britta out of the way to jump on Troy, screaming. 

Frankie steps up next to Abed, and he can feel her eyes on him but he can’t look away, still staring at Troy, and everything in him is crashing together, his heart is beating and beating, and every thought he’s has in the past one thousand, seven-hundred, thirty-seven days, nine hours, and thirty-seven minutes, every beating and pulsing thought of Troy Troy Troy Troy Troy Troy Troy Troy is standing there in front of him. 

He faintly hears Jeff say something, some teasing comment about how Troy is a real man now that he has a beard, about how Jeff needs to shave so they don’t match, and his eyes catch on Troy’s lips, curving into a bashful smile. Abed’s breath stutters in his throat and he accidentally coughs, trying his best to keep his heart beating because if he doesn’t try he might just fall dead to the floor. 

RIP Abed Nadir

Cause of death: Troy Barnes’s existence

And then Troy is in front of him, and it’s quieter than it’s been in the apartment for hours, and Abed can feel not just Frankie’s eyes on him, but also Shirley’s, and Britta’s, and Annie’s, and Chang’s, and Jeff’s, but none of that matters, because Troy’s eyes are on him too, locked on his, soft and dark and gentle, and Abed doesn’t know what to do.

“Hey, buddy,” Troy says softly, and Abed finally exhales, feeling his heart pound away in his chest. 

“You sailed around the world,” he says, in a more chipper voice than he thought he could, and Troy grins. 

“Yeah, I did.”

“...Awesome.”

And then their hands are slapping together as their other hands hit their own chests, and Troy is giggling and Abed is grinning, and Troy’s hand catches Abed’s pulling him into an embrace. 

And Abed sinks into it. 

His arms wrap around Troy’s neck and Troy’s arms wrap around Abed’s waist, squeezing him and pulling him closer, ignoring everyone else watching them. 

“I missed you so much, Abed,” Troy murmurs, just for Abed to hear, like it’s a secret, and Abed buries his face in Troy’s neck. They sway slightly, and Abed squeezes his eyes shut. 

When they finally pull away, after seconds or minutes or hours, Abed doesn’t know, they both take a breath and smile at each other. Abed staps back, looking behind himself to see Frankie, looking oddly sentimental, and he says, “Oh.” 

He points a finger and says, “Frankie.”

She steps forward. 

“Hi,” she says, extending a hand to Troy, but he opens his arms slightly and shrugs. 

“Study group family right?”

She laughs, stepping forward and embracing him, saying, “It’s so good to finally meet you, Troy.” Abed moves back, watching with a smile on his face, his fingers laced in front of himself. Everything is falling back into place. Everything makes sense. 

“Oh,” Shirley exclaims, clapping as Frankie and Troy part. “I need to check my pies!”

“Pies?” Troy says excitedly and Jeff steps past him to grab his suitcases from the hallway. Shirley goes into the kitchen and ABed hears her hum a happy “Mm-hmm!” 

“Hiii…” Chang steps out from the kitchen shyly and Troy points at him, confusion painted across his face.

“Uhm…?” 

“Oh, don’t worry about me!” Chang says, holding his hands out in his defence. “I’m on three antipsychotics and I have biweekly therapy.” 

Troy pauses, still staring at Chang in confusion (and Abed suspects a little worry), before dropping his hand and saying, “Good for you, man,” and Chang steps forward, holding his arms out for a hug. Troy obliges and looks at Abed with wide eyes and a smile over his shoulder. 

“I made some yummy pies,” Shirley says as they all enter the kitchen area, Jeff dropping Troy’s luggage in the living room, “because I thought it would be a nice par-a-llel, as Abed would say--” (she shoots him a glowing smile), “to when you and Abed first moved in here. You remember, the house-warming party, and Jeff tried to trick us all with the dice, and--”

“We danced to Roxanne for longer than is reasonable,” Annie finishes for her. 

“Yes, that was fun.” Shirley sets the pies down and Abed leans against a counter, sticking his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. Troy stands next to him, bumping his shoulder and then resting his back against the counter, their arms pressed together. “Well, no one really ate the pies that night but I suppose I was just getting started with baking, maybe they weren’t that good.” 

The others, except Frankie and Chang, exchange glances, silently agreeing to secrecy. 

“They smell delicious, Shirley,” Troy says and she beams at him. 

--- 

Jeff ordered pizza a while ago, and rather than using a die to choose who goes down to get it, Frankie volunteers. She comments on how weird the delivery man was but says it’s worth it because of how hungry she is. They eat around the dining table, and Troy sits next to Abed. As Britta asks about his “adventure,” (she wiggles in her seat as she says it), Troy’s leg presses to Abed’s.  At first he thinks it was an accident, but when Abed shifts his leg, Troy’s doesn’t move. 

“I mean,” Troy says, pausing to swallow a bite. “We were only captured by pirates twice, and other than that it was mostly smooth sailing.” 

Britta lets out a loud “A-haaaah!” and reaches across the table to high five him while sticking more pizza in her mouth. Jeff rolls his eyes and it takes Chang a second to process it before snapping and cackling. 

“Wait,twice?” Frankie says, lowering her slice and looking at him, her expression scandalized. 

“Yeah, once in the Gulf of Mexico and the other time somewhere in the Pacific I think, I don’t really remember.”

“How’s LaVar?”Annie asks. 

“ He’s good!” Troy’s leg hooks around Abed’s under the table. Abed almost wants to reach under the table and hold his knee or his thigh, but he doesn’t, leaving his hands on the table and letting his other leg drift until it tangles with Troy’s. “I asked if he wanted to come but he said he was just gonna take it easy tonight.”

“Do you think he’ll want to come another time?” Jeff asks. “I was thinking we could have a small party back at Greendale, at the study room. We can retake that photo we took before you left.” 

“Oh, yeah!” Troy says excitedly, grinning. “Can we invite the dean too? I miss that funky little dude.”

“...Sure?” Jeff swirls his glass and takes a sip.

There’s a moment of silence as they all dig into their pizza, and Troy sighs happily. 

“It’s good to be back,” he says, looking around at all of them. “I missed you guys so much.”

Shirley and Annie both let out their signature “Awww,” and Jeff jostles Troy’s shoulder like a little brother. 

“What’s new with you guys, though?” Troy asks. “I mean you told me a lot in your emails but what else?”

“Shirley spun off,” Abed says, pointing a finger at her, and he revels in the way Troy grins at him.

“That’s… true, I did.” Shirley folds her paper napkin and places it delicately in her lap. “I told you about that detective I cook for.” 

“Yeah. That’s so cool,” Troy says, leaning forward with emphasis. 

“And Annie kind of spun off but she came back,” Abed adds. 

“Didn’t you kind of spin off too?” Frankie asks, and Abed shrugs. 

“I guess, but I think I kind of knew I was coming back.” 

“I am still doing the internship.” Annie clarifies, bouncing in her seat. “It’s just… different. Most of it is  virtual, like online and stuff, but every other weekend I go down to the headquarters to work.” 

“You’re gonna save the world someday,” Troy says. “Don’t forget about us when you do, okay?” 

“Troy, you sailed around the world for four years and I didn’t forget about you.” She pauses. “And you didn’t forget about us either.” 

“Of course I didn’t forget about guys, I could never.” Troy looks around the table, at all of them and their greasy pizza. Chang seems more focused on the pizza than anything, but the others are listening intently. “You guys are my family.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Jeff says before Shirley can get an Awww in. They all lift their glasses, and as Jeff says, “To family,” dramatically, Abed feels Troy’s fingers squeeze his knee under the table. 

---

Britta suggests they watch a movie, and Troy asks if Abed still has The Breakfast Club. 

“Do you guys remember the day we met, and Abed got us all to shut up by reciting a scene from The Breakfast Club?” Annie asks as they migrate into the living room. 

“Yeah,” Jeff says, sitting in the middle of one of the sofas. Abed has always wondered how someone can be comfortable like that, legs out, feet planted on the floor, lap empty. But to each his own, he supposes. “Because you guys were arguing so loud the only thing that got you to be quiet was Abed saying ‘No Dad, what about you?’ like young Judd Nelson.” 

“He slammed his hand on the table first,” Britta says, flopping onto the sofa next to him “That’s what got our attention.”

“Oh, yeah.” 

“You guys were already arguing then?” Frankie says. She sits on Jeff’s other side, crossing her legs. 

“Day one,” Troy says, sitting on the other sofa. Abed hadn’t replaced the armchairs they used to sit in. Part of him wishes he had; maybe things would feel more normal. But another part of him doesn’t care, because Troy didn’t sit at the armrest, and he nods to it when Abed faces the sofa. Abed sits between him and the armrest, and his weight on the sofa makes the cushion cave, and he and Troy fall into each other. Neither of them move. “One of the first interactions we had in that room was all of us yelling over each other.” 

“And you still argue to this day,” she said in wonder. 

“Like a true family,” Jeff says in that I’m being sarcastic but you can take me seriously if you want voice with a matching, arrogant smile. 

Shirley lets out a sweet, “Yeah,” and she grins. 

Abed pulls his legs up on the sofa, his knees bent in front of him as he leans against the armrest, and Troy’s shoulder bumps him gently before staying, pressing. It stays there as the movie starts, as the others quietly talk, and Abed doesn’t tell them to be quiet, because if he’s honest he’s only half paying attention anyway, his mind too focused on the feeling of Troy’s shoulder against his.

It shouldn’t affect him like this. Before Troy left, they were constantly touching: shoulders pressed together as they next to each other like now, hands clasped as they navigate crowded hallways. Troy always went to find Abed’s hand. Once he accidentally grabbed Annie’s and despite her flustered blushing and giggling, he simply said, “Oh, sorry. Thought you were Abed. There you are, buddy!” and pushed past Annie to reach for Abed’s hand. They’d even cuddled, especially after Abed had had a particularly hard or exhausting day. There were some days he just dropped his bag on the floor and climbed into Troy’s bed, waiting until Troy changed into his pyjamas, or finished his homework, or ate dinner, until Troy climbed in next to him and wrapped his arms around him. They knew about the rumours. (Rumours that everyone in the study group had the decency not to bring up. But Abed suspected Pierce somehow never caught wind of them. Thankfully.) 

But now it makes Abed’s heart beat too fast. It makes his hands shake. He clasps them in his lap. 

He realises the room is dark, and Chang sits on the floor next to Annie, who’s holding a bowl of popcorn. (When did that happen?) She smiles and holds the bowl out for Chang to take a handful, and Shirley sits next to Troy. 

“Abed,” Troy’s voice says quietly, and Abed is shaken into himself.

“Hm?” 

Troy’s eyes are soft on him, dark and shining with reflections from the TV.

“You okay?” He’s whispering, and Abed nods, smiling. Troy hesitates, smiling back, and he leans forward, bumping their forehead together lightly before shifting in his seat, moving so he can lay his head on Abed’s shoulder.

As the movie goes on, Abed’s heart slows down until it’s somewhere near normal. He sighs, dropping his head onto the back of the sofa and letting it roll until it’s resting on top of Troy’s head. His hair is soft, and it tickles Abed’s face, but he doesn’t move. He wonders if his beard is as soft as his hair. 

“Hey Abed,” Jeff calls across the room as the characters dance on top of a table. “Remember when we did that with the pizza guy?” Abed can hear his amusement in his voice, can hear him grinning.

“Vaguely,” he says back. 

Troy’s breathing evens out. Abed thinks he might be asleep, and he doesn’t blame him. But after a few minutes there’s a gentle brush against Abed’s finger, his hands curled up between his chest and his legs, and he looks down to see Troy’s hand resting between him and Abed, his finger ever-so-slightly touching Abed’s. Abed uncurls his hand, extending his fingers just enough to pull Troy’s, tugging his hand into Abed’s lap and clutching Troy’s thumb in his fist as Troy’s fingers brush over the back of his hand, sending chills through his veins and down his spine. 

Troy sighs, and lightly rubs the back of Abed’s hand. 

Abed is almost falling asleep by the time the credits are rolling, and Jeff loudly states, “Well, I should be off.” He stands and shuts off the TV with the remote, which Abed forgot he had, and Troy lifts his head from Abed’s shoulder. “I have work in the morning.”

“Me too,” Frankie says. “You’re not special.” 

“And I have class,” Britta says, standing as well. 

“Me too,” Shirley and Annie say simultaneously before looking at each other and saying “Ohh,” in high-pitched voices. 

“Me too,” Chang says, pushing himself up from the floor. He accidentally hits the bowl of popcorn, and it tips, spilling kernels on the carpet. Abed shakes his head. 

“Ben, what do you even do at Greendale?” Jeff asks. (Troy mumbles “Ben?” next to Abed.)

“Uhm…” He finishes standing, about as ungracefully as humanly possible, and dusts his hands off on his legs. “You should ask the dean when we get there because I honestly don’t know.”

Everyone seems to collectively decide to let that pass as an answer. Annie shrugs and steps to the sofa, holding her arms out to Troy. Troy’s hand detaches from Abed’s, (who forgot they were holding hands. It feels so natural. Like it’s how their hands are supposed to be.) and he stands, hugging Annie tightly before she steps back and Britta takes her place.

“You’ll come by Greendale tomorrow right?” she asks as they rock. Jeff hands Annie her jacket behind them and he pulls his own over his shoulders.

“Yeah, of course,” Troy says, letting go of her. Shirley reaches up with grabby hands and Troy chuckles, wrapping his arms around her. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Haaaaaah,” Britta, saying, tugging her leather jacket on. (Abed doesn’t think it can keep her that warm.)

“It wasn’t that good,” Jeff says, shaking his head, and she makes a face at him. 

Troy even hugs Frankie and Chang before everyone leaves, after drawn-out goodbyes, I’ll see you tomorrows, and more I’ll see you tomorrows. 

When the door clicks shut, the apartment is silent, and Abed takes a breath before turning away from the door, to where Troy is standing. He’s smiling when Abed looks at him, looking like he’s waiting, and Abed steps closer, hearing only his and Troy’s quiet breaths and the gentle whir of the television. Abed doesn’t realise that Troy is moving closer too, until their forehead are pressed together, and they’re breathing the same air, and Troy’s arms are wrapping around Abed again and Abed’s are wrapping around him.

Abed’s eyes close again, and he hides his face in Troy’s neck, and Troy sighs, humming quietly, and Abed wonders why people question existence, because this is it. This is everything.

They stand there for a while, holding each other like they’re scared to let go, like if they let go they might fall apart, or Troy might disappear for another one thousand, seven hundred, thirty-seven days, until Troy’s arms slide so his hands are holding Abed’s waist, gentle and strong, and Abed pulls back, looking at him. 

“Can I touch you?” he whispers softly, looking back and forth between Troy’s dark eyes, and Troy smiles, a soft, sleepy, almost lazy smile, and nods, so Abed places his hands on his cheeks, gently brushing over his beard with his fingertips. He was right. It’s very soft. 

Abed can feel Troy’s thumbs brushing back and forth over his waist, slow and gentle, like Abed is fragile, and he realises he’s staring at Troy. It’s probably been too long, Abed thinks, but he doesn’t stop staring. He can’t. Usually, when he stares at people for what they consider to be too long, they get weird. They make faces at him, faces that confuse him, or they walk away, disgruntled or miffed. They scoff, wave, ask What? in rude voices. Even if Abed is staring because he thinks they’re beautiful. But Troy doesn’t seem weirded out right now. He’s still smiling, and he looks sleepy. Eventually, as Abed’s fingers gently scratch over his cheeks and jaw, Troy’s eyes drift shut. His thumbs don’t stop moving on Abed’s waist.

“Troy?” 

It takes a second, but Troy’s eyes open, hazy, and then they focus on Abed, and his smile grows.

“Mm-hmm?” 

“Are you tired?” 

Abed would understand, It is getting late, and Troy has been through a lot. Reunions with six people, and meeting a whole new person, even a person he’s heard about, would take a lot out of Abed. 

“I’m happy,” Troy says, like that explains it, and Abed hums. “Do you want to sit? Hang out?” “Sure.”

Troy pulls at his waist, and they go to the sofa, and Abed is a little disappointed because it means he has to stop touching Troy’s face. Troy sits first, looking up at Abed, and Abed can’t not smile at him, because he’s finally here.

Home.

He sits next to him, facing him with a leg bent between them, and Troy looks at him, and Abed smiles. 

Abed asks, “Can I touch your beard again?” and Troy says, “‘Course,” and Abed smiles.

He touches his beard, first with the tips of his fingers, before smoothing his hand over his jaw, and Troy’s eyes shut again, and Abed smiles. 

Troy bites his lower lip, letting his head fall back, and he looks so happy that Abed smiles, and smiles, and smiles, and smiles. 

“Talk to me,” Troy says finally, turning his head slightly so he can look at Abed, and Abed cocks his own head, thinking, brushing the back of his hand over Troy’s cheek.

“I’m officially diagnosed with autism,” he says, watching as Troy’s eyes fly open and he looks at Abed, grinning. 

“Yeah?” “Mm-hmm.” Abed sighs. “I talked to a psychiatrist in L.A. Jeff was right.” 

“That’s great, buddy!” Troy rests his head on the back of the sofa, still looking at Abed. 

“But they don’t use Aspergers as a diagnosis anymore,” Abed continues. “Apparently the guy it was named after was a nazi or something.”

“Oh. Gross.”

“Yeah. I doubt Jeff knew that when he said that to me, though.” Abed looks away from his eyes, watching his own fingers brush over Troy’s jaw. 

“I mean, I doubt anyone in the study group really knows much about it in general.”

“Britta.”

Troy furrows his brows. 

“Really?” “Yeah, when I told the group she was super excited and did a ton of research. I think she knows more about it than I do.”

Troy chuckles, subtly shifting so he’s closer to Abed on the sofa. 

There’s a beat of silence and Abed looks up from his hand to Troy’s eyes, and they lock. Troy’s eyes are smiling.  

“I thought about giving up so many times,” Troy says. “Giving up and just coming home.” “I’m glad you didn’t.” 

“Why?” 

“I know how important it was to you. That you go out and become your own person, cement your own existence. Like a coming of age film but… in your early twenties.” 

Abed hesitates for just a split second, and then moves, setting his hand on Troy’s shoulder and lifting a leg and moving so he’s on Troy’s lap, his legs on either side of him. Troy’s hands wait in the air until he’s settled, and then they’re on him, sliding up his thighs until they’re on his waist, slipping under his jacket and pulling him close. Abed touches his hair, closing his eyes as he feels Troy press his forehead to Abed’s chest, just under his throat. 

“I thought about you every day,” Troy murmurs, and Abed tugs softly. A rush of warmth goes through him, and he knows Troy can feel his heartbeat. “Every fucking  day.” 

“I counted them,” Abed admits. Troy lifts his head, looking into his eyes. 

“How many?” he whispers, just a breath.

“A thousand, seven-hundred, thirty-seven. And nine hours.”

Troy exhales, leaning forward and pressing his lips to Abed’s throat, as high as he can reach. When he pulls away, the spot gets cold.

“Troy?”

“Yeah?”

“May I kiss you, please?”

“Please,” Troy breaths, his eyes dropping to Abed’s lips. “Please, please, please, please, ple--” 

So Abed does. 

Their mouths crash together, and Abed’s hands trap Troy’s face, his palms pressing to his jaws, tilting his head for a better angle, and he feels Troy’s hands press into the small of his back and pull him closer. Troy gently bites his lip, and he licks into his mouth, and it’s nighttime and buttered noodles and Inspector Spacetime and Pulp Fiction and a warm jacket and a pretty die and the colour blue and it’s everything Abed loves and has ever loved right on Troy Barnes’s tongue. 

And all Abed can think is finallyfinallyfinallyfinallyfinallyfinallyfinallyfinally. 

That this is what they should have done the night before Troy left, instead of just laying together, their arms wrapped around each other, their legs entwined, neither of them really sleeping because neither of them wanted to wake up and find that they had run out of time. That this is what they should have done before exchanging hoodies so Abed could keep Troy there with him and so Troy could bring Abed with him, before zipping up Troy’s bags.

That this is what they should have been doing for years and years, that they should have found each other in the world before Greendale, before Spanish class, before that chapter, just so they could do this sooner. 

But every single thought is pushed out of Abed’s mind as Troy pulls away for a gasp and pushes back in, running his tongue over Abed’s lips, smiling gently as Abed buries his fingers in his hair, as Troy lifts a hand from his waist and places it on his face, touching him so gently, carefully, thoughtfully that Abed thinks he might cry.

He doesn’t realise he is crying until Troy is pulling away and gently, carefully, thoughtfully, wiping at his cheeks and under his eyes, murmuring “It’s okay,” and “I got you.” 

Abed’s fingers are suddenly clutching at Troy’s hood, and he can’t see because the world is underwater, and there’s a soft whining sound that he realises is him when Troy quietly says, “I know, baby.” 

Troy pulls at his neck until their foreheads are pressed together, and Troy is warmwarmwarm and Abed can’t stop. His mouth is talking without his brain telling it to (“Please don’t, just-- Don’t--”) and his hands are shaking, and everything is falling down and falling into place. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Troy says gently. “I’m home.” 

And then he’s pushing Abed’s hair back and pressing his lips to his forehead, and his cheeks, and his nose, and then his lips, lingering until he pulls away and Abed subconsciously leans in, trying to catch him. 

“I love you so much,” Troy whispers when Abed finally stops crying. “So fucking much.”

Abed slips his hands over his neck, brushing his thumbs back and forth over his jaw. He closes his eyes, pressing his lips to Troy’s before pulling away to breathe and resting his forehead on Troy’s, feeling his hands run over his back and his hips and his thighs and then back again like they’re mapping him out. 

They stay there, while the stars and street lamps and stop lights shine outside, while cars and motorcycles and bikes speed by, while the wind blows and the rain falls, they breathe and breathe and breathe and exist and exist and exist. 

Home.

[btschooseafic]

Hey you, what’s your dream?

Pairing: platonic!oc x ot7

Details: manager!oc, predebut/idolverse, partial BTS World!verse

Summary: Jimin does his best to get abs worth showing off.

Warnings: This is a fictional story based on real events. The characters presented here are not the same as their real life counterparts. (TW: eating disordered behavior/body image issues/perfectionism) [Masterlist]

Track 13: Jimin’s diet

Body Terror Song-AJJ

“I'm very sorry that you have to have a body

One that will hurt you and be the subject of so much of your fear”

Aviva had somewhat been avoiding Jin since their last conversation—which was difficult, as she was his manager, and they were smack-dab in the middle of a busy training schedule.

Hoseok was currently working with the choreographers to put together a routine to go with their debut song. Aviva hadn’t come to every rehearsal like she used to, busy talking to booking agents, and besides that, not having much (any) experience to do with dancing. Still Hoseok was a friend, and an important group member, so when he asked her to come see what they were working on and give him some feedback, she came.

“This part is on the offbeat, then you turn,” Hoseok explained, demonstrating the move for the other boys. “So, you want to take it from the top?”

Aviva applauded as she entered. “As expected from our dance captain!” She grinned at him, never unimpressed with Hobi’s dance skills. He smiled back at her.

“Don’t overdo it, Avi-yah, his head is big enough already,” Namjoon warned.

“Go hydrate while you have the chance!” Hoseok ordered, pointing off to the side where there was a line of water bottles along the floor. Jimin was already sitting, drinking and stretching. The others moved over to him, chatting as Hoseok sighed.

“What’s wrong, Hobi?” Aviva wondered. Hoseok shrugged.

“It’s going pretty well for our first run, but… there’s just one problem. I can’t help but feel like something’s missing…” He tapped his chin, looking frustrated. “What do you think, Avi?”

Aviva grimaced. “Sorry, I think I’m pretty useless in this situation. I’ve told you before, I don’t know much about dance routines—”

“Yah! Don’t put yourself down like that,” Hoseok said. “You might not be a dancer, but I’ve seen you speaking to the choreographers, watching videos, attending practices and taking notes. You’re our manager, and you’re our friend, your opinion is worth something.”

“Okay…” Sometimes Hoseok made her feel like crying with his emotional words. Half the time she was pretty sure he was doing it on purpose.

After watching the routine, Aviva spoke to Hoseok off to the side again.

“Yeah, I kind of get what you mean. It’s a pretty solid routine, but there’s no…” She made a like explosion movement with her hands. “No spice to make it stand out.”

Hoseok laughed, copying her movement. “Spice! You’re adorable, Aviva.”

“Shut up,” she muttered, feeling her face get hot.

“You know… I think you might have given me an idea though,” he said, leaning down to whisper it in her ear. Her eyes widened.

“Well that’s… daring.”

“Right?” He grinned widely.

“And, I guess, from a numbers standpoint, that would fit our projected demographic well.”

“You mean we’re hot so teenage girls are gonna be into it,” Hoseok translated.

“Teenage girls are one of the most powerful forces I know of,” Aviva said seriously.

“Hey, I’m not gonna argue with that.” Hoseok nodded. “I grew up with an older sister and five girl cousins around my age, and they saved my ass several times in our teenaged years.” He paused. “Come to think of it, they were the reason I got into trouble in the first place, half of the time, but eh, at least they cleaned up after themselves. Anyway…” He cupped his hands over his mouth. “Okay, boys, I have an important announcement to make as your choreographer!” The boys gathered around. “We have a signature dance move for our debut song! It’s… drum roll, please.” Yoongi slapped at Jin’s arm, creating a staccato beat. Jin winced and pouted at him. Hoseok laughed. “The ab reveal! We’re gonna pull up our shirts in the middle of the routine and show them off!”

Namjoon’s eyes widened.

“Are you sure? Pulling up our shirts? That seems… over the top.”

“The top over your head?” Aviva suggested, grinning. Everyone blinked at her. Aviva tilted her head. “Ah, that doesn’t work as well in Korean…”

Namjoon repeated it slowly to himself in English and then rolled his eyes.

“Ah, who are you, Jin-hyung?”

“She’s not as handsome,” Jin said immediately. Then he shrunk back as she looked at him. “Sorry…”

“Joon’s right though, we don’t want to overwhelm our audience,” Hoseok said thoughtfully. “So let’s just have one person do it! More of an impact!” He pointed excitedly at Jimin.

“Why… why are you looking at me…?”

“We’re counting on you, Jimin-ah! The success of our debut song is riding on your abs!” Namjoon said, clapping him on the shoulder and then speeding out of the room, the other boys following suit, as if afraid Hoseok might change his mind and make them all do it again. Aviva frowned.

“You okay, Jiminie? If it’s too much pressure, Hoseok can think of something else.”

Hoseok frowned. “What? I like this idea,” he grumbled. She elbowed him. “Yeah, sure, fine. Leave to me, manager.”

“No, it’s fine,” Jimin said, his smile a lot weaker than his usual shining grin. “I’ll do it. Don’t worry about me, manager-noona.” He left the room quickly. Aviva let out a breath.

“You guys better not pressure him too much. Honestly, it’s like we’ve learned nothing from that whole thing with Kookie…”

Over the next few days, Aviva kept an eye out for Jimin. She made a worrying observation that he didn’t appear to be eating, turning down even Jin’s home cooked meals in favor of diet shakes.

So Aviva sucked up her pride and asked Jin and Taehyung for help.

“I’ve heard it’s unfortunately pretty common in the idol industry, but has Jimin-ah done anything like this before?” Aviva asked Tae as they gathered in her kitchen early in the morning.

Taehyung had been excited to be invited to her apartment, but now seemed nervous. “Ah, noona, you know, I’m not really sure it’s my place to talk about that.”

“Right…” Aviva let out a breath. “Right, that’s true. I should just talk to him about it directly, but I was worried he was going to get embarrassed and not want to talk…”

“That’s a possibility,” Taehyung agreed.

“So, I thought I’d carry out Plan B at the same time as Plan A,” she told him.

“Is that where I come in?” Jin wondered, pointing at himself. Aviva nodded.

“I wanted to ask for your help making a lunchbox for Jimin-ah.”

“A lunchbox!” Taehyung clapped his hands together excitedly.

Jin smiled. “That’s a lovely idea.”

“If you’re comfortable telling me some of his favorite foods, and we can try to keep it as healthy as possible as well,” Aviva thought.

“Right!” Taehyung nodded, his expression turning serious. “I will make a list.”

“I’ll think of some healthy recipes,” Jin added. Aviva smiled.

“Thank you both.”

“Ah, there is something I wanted to talk to you about, Aviva-yah, if you don’t mind,” Jin said. She looked at him, curious. He cleared his throat. “In private, maybe?” Taehyung glanced at him, looking slightly suspicious. Aviva considered for a moment, and then pulled out her wallet.

“This is the company card,” she told Taehyung, giving it to him. “Why don’t you buy some ingredients for us to work with?”

“Yes!” Taehyung flashed his typical victory sign. “Grocery store, here I come!” He rushed out the door.

“Don’t forget your coat… ah, too late.” Aviva shook her head. “That boy.” She turned, seeing Jin smiling at her. “What?”

“Ah, no, I just thought, for all their flirting, mostly you just seem like their mom.”

She blinked. “Really? I thought that was Namjoon-ah, or you, maybe.”

“Me?” Jin tilted his head. “Well, I guess we can all share the burden. It takes a village to raise a child, right?”

“What did you want to talk to me about?” She cut to the chase.

“I wanted to apologize, again, for overstepping, when I was drunk,” he said. She frowned. “I wouldn’t bring it up again, but I know you’ve been avoiding me, so I realized it must have really hurt your feelings.” She ran her hand through her hair.

“I don’t know… It, that wasn’t very professional of me, oppa, sorry.”

“I accept the apology from you as a manager, but from you as a friend… it’s unnecessary. In the matter of friendship, I was in the wrong.”

“You didn’t hurt my feelings,” she said. “You just brought up something… something I’m not ready to think about, and I was worried you might bring it up again if we talked one-on-one.”

“Ah, well, I guess I almost have done that?” Jin smiled sheepishly at her. “I’ll do my best to avoid it from now on.”

“…Okay,” she said. “But, maybe… some day, if I ever feel like I’m ready to talk about it, would you… would you listen to me? Even if it doesn’t make very much sense.”

“Of course,” Jin said, taking her hands in his and squeezing them lightly before letting go. “Now! Please tell me you have a spare apron, because I am too handsome in this shirt to get it messy.”

She snorted. “Ah, yeah, there’s the one I bought for Soonie as a gag gift.” She pulled the frilly pink apron out of a closet and handed it to him.

“Hmmm…” He was blushing slightly.

“Oppa?” She gave him a weird look.

“Ah, it’s nothing. I just thought… she’d probably look cute in this.”

Aviva nodded. “Of course. She looks cute in everything.”

Jin laughed. “Hmm.”

Later that day, Aviva headed to the studio. She could hear Jimin working on his moves in the room down the hall. Then she heard a loud slam and ran forward to find Jimin collapsed on the ground.

“Jimin!” She quickly moved over to him, pulling his head onto his lap. He groaned.

“Ah!” He put a hand on his head, wincing. She ran her fingers through his hair gently, trying to see if she could feel any bumps or cuts. Jimin made a happy little noise, closing his eyes for a moment before jerking out of her arms. “Manager-noona!” He sat up, scouting away from her. “I’m alright. I just got a bit dizzy and it made me mess up the step.”

“Jimin-ah,” she said, trying to catch his eye, though he appeared to be avoiding her gaze. “I know this can be a sensitive topic for some people, but have you eaten today?”

“Hmm, that’s right, it’s about lunch time. Do you think you can hand me my bag? There’s a shake in there.”

“Jimin-ah,” she said again, taking his hands in hers. They were shaking. “I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine!” Jimin said, his cheerful tone a little forced to her ears. “This diet is really working! I’m starting to get abs! Wanna see?” He started pulling up his shirt. “Here—”

“Yah, pabo!” Taehyung appeared in the doorway.

“Ah.” Aviva smiled slightly. “I thought you might have followed me here.”

“Tae?” Jimin frowned at him. “Who’re you calling pabo?”

“You!” Taehyung said. “I saw you fall over.” Jimin’s face flushed. Tae looked at Aviva.

“Show him what we made for him.”

Jimin looked at Aviva. She opened her bag and held out the lunchbox to him.

“Tae helped make this?” Jimin said doubtfully. “Tae Tae, you know I appreciate your cooking, but—”

“Don’t worry, Jin-hyung and Avi-noona did all of the cooking, I just helped pick out the ingredients,” Taehyung told him. “I know I’m not a very good cook.”

He wilted a little.

“I still appreciated the thought,” Jimin said quietly. “When you’ve tried making food for me in the past…”

“Yeah, but I don’t think Avi-noona appreciated when I set her smoke alarm off,” Tae thought. Jimin squinted at him.

“Tae, you bad boy—”

“It wasn’t too bad,” Aviva interrupted, waving her hands. “Everyone’s safe, so that’s all that matter—”

“You went to noona’s apartment without me?” Jimin pouted at him. Aviva blinked.

“What? That’s what you…?” She sighed.

“Yeah, so? You get to eat her home cooked meal,” Taehyung pointed out. “So you’d better appreciate it.”

“I will.” Jimin turned to her. “I do.”

“Say that after you eat it, maybe?” She suggested.

“Anyway, Jin-hyung was there the whole time, so it’s not like anything could’ve happened,” Taehyung muttered. Jimin grinned, opening the box.

“Yeah, I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Aviva said.

“It looks really good,” Jimin said, staring at the food. “But, my diet…”

“Noona and Jin-hyung specially picked the recipes so that the food was healthy, particularly for a dancer,” Taehyung told him. “Noona printed out scientific articles like she was possessed by Namjoon-hyung or something.”

Jimin snickered, and then his face turned serious.

“You did all that for me?” He asked Aviva. She nodded. “But, I’m trying to help too. I’m trying to be the best I can be, for this group. That’s why everything’s got to be perfect… When it’s perfect, I’ll feel better.”

Aviva sighed, pulling her knees up to her chest, and resting her chin there, staring at her feet. “You sound like Jungkookie, or my sister, or me…” She looked up again, finally catching Jimin’s gaze. “But let me tell you a secret, Jimin-ah. You’re never going to be perfect. There will always be another loose thread you can pick at. If you keep doing that, whatever it is you want to do, will never get done. Sometimes the best you can do, is the best you can do at that moment. Maybe one day you will be better, but that kind of change can’t happen instantaneously.” She smiled. “But what am I telling you that for? You know. You’re one of the hardest working people I know, Jiminie.” Jimin rubbed at his face and then took a deep breath.

“Don’t you make me cry!” He warned her.

“It’s okay if you cry,” Taehyung said. “I’ll hold you if you do.” Jimin made a face.

“…Only if Avi-noona joins.”

“…How about a pat on the head?” She offered instead.

Jimin ate half the lunch, slowly. He apologized for not finishing it all, but Aviva assured him that was okay. He hadn’t been eating, so eating quickly all of a sudden could make him sick.

She and Taehyung stuck around for the rest of Jimin’s practice, Tae doing his best to follow along, Aviva even joining along for a couple moves, making them all laugh as she growled with frustration at not being able to follow the choreography.

“Rome wasn’t built in a day, manager,” Jimin teased her.

“Oh, I know,” she grumbled. “But I would’ve probably died trying.”

“Ah.” Jimin nodded. “I can understand that.”

“Live instead,” Tae suggested, slinging his arms around their shoulders. “It’s more fun to hang out all together. I’ll get lonely alone.”

“Okay, but get off of me,” Jimin said, shoving him. “You’re sweaty.”

“We all are,” Aviva said, wrinkling her nose as she looked down at her business clothes. “Hobi’s gonna yell at me for wrinkling my clothes again.”

Jimin snickered. “Oh yeah, hyung does that to me all the time! You’ve just got to change quickly and hide the clothes before he sees them.”

“Yeah, but I was going to drive you back, so he’ll see me,” Aviva thought, chewing at her lip. Jimin smiled slyly.

“We could stop by your place first, and could can change.”

“Ooh, can we borrow your shower?” Taehyung asked, his smile matching Jimin’s.

Aviva sighed. “Boys, I really don’t think it’s your intention to make me feel unsafe in my own home, hmm?”

They both blinked, and then exchanged a guilty look.

“Not at all!” They said in unison.

“Sorry.” Tae bowed slightly. “I know I’ve been teasing you a bit too much lately. I got overexcited because your reactions are amusing and I enjoy learning new things about you.”

“Alright, alright,” Aviva said. “Just get in the car.” She drove them back to the dorm.

“You practice this late every night?” Taehyung asked, looking up at the dark sky as they moved down the path towards the dorm. “Alone? Amazing!”

Aviva frowned. “Jiminie... are you sleeping enough?”

“I’m fine!” He said. “I’m not tired!”

“That’s not what I—“

“I’ve got to make sacrifices for my abs,” Jimin interrupted.

Taehyung poked at his own stomach.

“Hmmm. I’ll just hope for them in the next life.”

Aviva touched her stomach. “A healthy body looks different for everyone,” she said quietly. Taehyung and Jimin exchanged a thoughtful look.

“I know I said I’d stop teasing, but you do have a nice body, manager-noona,” Tae commented. Jimin shoved him.

“Tae! You can’t just say things like that!”

“What? She’s soft and nice to touch.”

“That’s worse!”

Aviva sighed, rubbing her temples. “Taehyung-ah, I think maybe you mean well, but you’re giving me a headache. Jimin-ah’s right, it’s not appropriate to say things like that.”

Jimin shot Tae a pointed look. “Okay, okay.” Taehyung waved his hand. “I’ll retract my statement.” He made a weird swooping movement as if swallowing back his words. She snorted. He smiled slightly. “There now… don’t be sad, manager. You and Jiminie can both have abs if you really want, but do it in a healthy way, please.”

Jimin blinked. “Tae, you—” He squeaked. “What the fuck was that?”

“Huh?” Tae looked around.

“I just saw someone sneak out of the dorm!” Jimin said, pointing at a far off darting shadow. Aviva squinted.

“It’s too dark, and my eyesight isn’t good enough to see who it is. Maybe it’s just Hoseok sneaking out to party. I know he did that sometimes in the early days of training.”

“Did he?” Jimin’s lips twitched. “Sounds fun.”

When they got inside, Yoongi was sitting on the couch working at his laptop.

He looked up when they entered.

“You’re back late.” He crossed his arms over his chest, giving them a pointed look. “Just what will I tell your mother?” Taehyung laughed as Jimin rolled his eyes.

“….Jin-oppa is the mom?” Aviva guessed.

“Of course.” Yoongi grinned.

Aviva looked around. “Joon isn’t up working with you tonight?”

Yoongi shook his head. “Everyone else is asleep.”

“Alright, boys. Get some sleep. I’ll be back in…” She glanced at her watch and groaned. “We’ve only got a few hours. By the time I drive back home and then I have to clean up, and then go to sleep and then wake up and come back here and—”

Jimin held his finger in front of her mouth.

“Why don’t you stay over?” He suggested. “I promise Tae and I will behave.”

“I will,” Tae seconded. “I don’t want you driving while you’re so tired, noona.”

Her brow furrowed. “Well, I guess you’ve got a point…”

Tae smiled. “Yay! Where are you going to sleep? Cause I like to snuggle—“

“Nope!” Jimin said, slapping him over the back of the head. “You literally just promised you’d behave.” Taehyung whined as Jimin pulled him out of the room. “Let’s go take a shower before bed.”

“Are they showering together?” Aviva wondered. Yoongi shrugged.

“Saves time.”

“…South Korea is surprisingly open-minded about some things,” Aviva thought.

“Maybe,” Yoongi said. “Or maybe it’s just us. Anyway, I’m going to be working for a while longer, so you can use my bed if you want. No cuddling with hormonal teenagers necessary.”

“Cuddling aside, I don’t particularly want to be sleeping in a room with six to seven boys,” she told him. He nodded.

“That’s fair. Neither do I.”

“... Sorry I haven’t found a bigger place for you guys.”

He sighed, brushing his bangs away from his face. “That’s not what I meant, Aviva-yah.”

“Okay...” She chewed at her lip. “Can’t I just sleep out here?” She pointed at the couch.

“You don’t mind me working?” He wondered. She shook her head.

“You don’t mind me snoring?”

He laughed. “I’m used to Joon-ah and Jiminie already.” He stood up, stretching. “I should get you a blanket or something—and do you need something to sleep in?” She hesitated, and then nodded. “You’d better come into the room with me, so you can tell me what’s okay.”

She frowned. “Won’t I wake them?”

He shook his head. “They’ll be dead to the world at this point.”

They walked into the bedroom. Yoongi walked over to the dresser, searching through a drawer. Aviva glanced around at the sleeping boys. Hoseok had his hand on his stomach. Jin was surrounded by a sea of stuffed animals. Jungkook was wrapped in his blankets like a caterpillar. She glanced up at Namjoon, who was sleeping with his laptop open on his chest. She hesitated and then climbed up the ladder, taking the laptop from him. He grunted and rolled over, continuing to snore. Aviva started climbing down the ladder, but fumbled while trying to hold the laptop steady.

She half fell on top of Yoongi.

He sighed, his breath in her ear.

“You’re just as bad as Namjoon-ah, honestly.” He steadied her on her feet and stepped away, shaking his head.

“…Thanks.” She placed Namjoon’s laptop on top of the dresser, careful not to disturb any of Hoseok’s figurines.

“Would these work?” Yoongi held up a pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt.

She chewed her lip. “The shorts are fine, but the shirt would be a little… tight.”

“I figured.” He glanced her over and then looked away. “Namjoon-ah’s shirts are the biggest, but I can’t tell what of his is clean.”

“It’s fine,” she said. “I can just sleep in my undershirt.”

“…Alright. And there’s an extra blanket in the closet.” He smirked. “I’m not sure you’re tall enough to reach it.” She rolled her eyes.

“You’re barely taller than me.”

“Still counts!”

“You keep telling yourself that,” Jimin said, walking in with a towel wrapped around his waist. He glanced at Aviva and then quickly avoided eye contact, his face turning pink. “Ah… a little privacy please, noona?”

“Of course!” Aviva zipped out of the room, past an equally shirtless Taehyung, who just gave her his patented blank faced look. Yoongi followed her at a slower pace. He walked over to the closet and opened it. Aviva walked up to him. “Are there clean towels in there? I’m thinking maybe I should take a shower too. I tried to dance, so I’m all gross.”

Yoongi glanced her over again.“You look… fine, but I understand the feeling.” He handed her a blue towel with a yellow duck on it. “I haven’t used this since I last washed it, so it’s clean.”

She stared at it. “This is yours?”

“Yeah.” He shot her a challenging look. “So?”

She just grinned. “So, you’re cute.”

“Just… just go shower,” he said, his face flushing. “Go shower and then get some sleep before you have to start your day.”

Aviva felt much better after showering. She could use Hobi’s iron in the morning on her button up, and trousers, she thought it had some kind of gentle clean setting on it. She came back into the living room, wearing her camisole and Yoongi’s shorts, which were a bit tight on her, but not too much so.

Yoongi glanced up at her when she walked in. He froze. She sniffed, glancing at the mug in his hand. “Coffee? Are you not even trying to sleep?”

“I have to finish this, but you…” He frowned. “You’re the one who’s cute…”

She blinked at him. “What?”

“Too cute.” He suddenly pulled off his hoodie and held it out to her. “Wear that and cover up before the maknae line rushes over here drooling.”

“Stop being gross,” she said, pulling the sweater over her head anyway. It was warm. The fabric was worn, but not overly soft, it felt nice against her skin. “But thanks for this.” She snuggled into the sweater further.

“…I made it worse,” he muttered.

She squinted at him. “What’s that?”

“Nothing. Go to sleep. The blanket’s over the back of the couch. I’m going to record your snoring and use it in a track.”

“Use Joonie’s, it’ll have more impact,” she told him. He snorted. She plugged her phone into a charger and then put her glasses down on the side table. “Night, Yoongi.”

“…Night, Aviva.”

[itsthestutterforme]

You Left Me (A Man From U.N.C.L.E.)

Y/N was undercover when she met Illya. They both fell in love with each other, but Y/N was taken out of the mission and Illya never saw hed again. They meet again for the nuke mission and Illya has a very interesting reaction.

Characters: Napoleon Solo, Gaby, Illya x reader,(moderate smut)

--

"Wait a minute, you said that there were already three undercover agents on this assignment?" I ask. "Yes," "Then why do you need me?" "Because you can back up every position." "They're men, it's going to be hard for their meat heads to process." "When has that ever stopped you?" I roll my eyes as a deep sigh left my lips. "I'll be there,"

I land in Berlin an hour before the meeting and take a taxi the address the boss sent me. I keep my walk down the brick pathway to the restaurant filled to the brim with primarily male customers. They must be apart of a ruse. "Y/N, it's so good for you to make it," Boss says.

The three other men with them looked to me and one stood up. I look to the man to notice that it was Illya, the man I dated when I was undercover for a mission. "You were a spy?" he says angrily. "Easy honey," "Do not call me honey!" He flips the table and makes his way over to me .

What are you to do, Y/N? I ask myself. Before my mind could process, I am being lifted off the ground by my throat and thrown on the table. My brain started to pulsated against my skull. I hold his wrists in my hands and wrap my legs around his neck. I apply pressure to throat and his grip on my throat started to decrease.

Once he loosen his grip enough, I hit his chest with both of my legs, sending him crashing into another table. "Are you serious? You have the audacity to put your hands on me?!" I stand over him and press my knife against his groin. "I should kill you for that." I add. "That's enough, Agent Y/N." Boss says. When Illya tries to get up and kick him back down. I cross my arms and say, "You failed to tell me who was involved,"

"Didn't think it mattered, agent. We'll let you all get acquainted." Boss, another man and the rest of the restaurant left. "I was surprised to hear that you were apart of this. Even more surprised that he was the case you were demoted for." "Kiss my ass, Solo. I wasn't ecstatic when I found out I was helping you either." Illya groans as he stands up from the ground. "Well this is going to be interesting," Solo says.

The next day, me and Gaby decided to go shopping with Solo. I had bags full of clothes from Coach and Versace and Gaby was in the middle of trying on clothes from Dolce and Gabbana when Illya came. "Let me see what you bought," Illya says as he approaches me. He reaches for the bag and I slap his hand away.

"You don't have to worry about what I'm wearing because I'm not the one you're married to. She is." "I'm sorry?" Gaby asks. "Undercover business. It makes sense to have you and Illya are engaged because it makes for an easier way in, don't you think?" "She has a point," Solo says. "Great. See you guys in Rome." I take my bags with me and hop into my car to leave.

Y/N was shopping at the nearest grocery store from the hotel. Solo was explaining to Iilya that it has been over an hour since she left. Illya told Solo to keep an eye on Gaby while he went searching for Y/N. Solo and Gaby thinks it's obvious that Y/N and Illya still have feelings for each other. Y/N was going to a stroll around some car shows emphasize her cover as an engineer.

Illya was following her and Y/N was about to go home until she realized that she was being followed by both Illya and a thug. She turned on to an alleyway and hid behind the dumpster. She waited until the thug passed behind slicing his achilles tendon. She thought that was the end she heard a gun cock. Everything happened in the blink of an eye, her being pushed into the wall and Illya being shot.

Y/N opened fire on the other thugs until there was no movement. "You're such an idiot." she says as she examines him. He has a bullet wound in his left arm so she decided to take off her belt and put it above the wound to lessen the blood flow. She helps him to his feet and drives him back to the hotel.

They took the elevator to her room and took out the first aid kit. Before tending to his wound, she called Solo and Gaby and told them what happened. A few seconds later, they walked into the room. Y/N had a flask of vodka that she offered him. "No thank you," "Drink it," she enforces.

Y/N POV

Illya finally drinks the vodka and I take some curved tweezers to dig the bullet out. His hand finds its way to my hips as I continue to dig around for his bullet. "What happened?" Gaby asks. "A couple of thugs were following me. I had it handled but he stormed in and blew the whole thing. Getting shot in the process." I explain.

I finally take out the bullet and press some fresh gauze to clean up the fresh blood. "The bullet didn't knick any major arteries, that's good." I say before pouring some rubbing alcohol in the wound. Illya's face rests on my shoulder and a quick chill came over my body. I thread the needle and set the tip of the needle under the fire before stitching the wound up. He squeezes my hip and leans his face deeper into my chest.

"Alright, he's all set, Gaby." I say as I push him so that he is sitting upright. "Wait," Illya says as he holds my hand gently. "We'll, uh, give you guys a minute." Solo says before leaving the room. "What?" "Answer this question and I'll leave you alone." "Alright," He drops his hands and asks, "Did- was anything that happened between us real?"

"Why did you think I was a complete bitch to you before I left? I was internally fighting myself and lost." I shove my hands in my pockets before adding, "So they pulled me out and never put me in a undercover relationship again," I slowly looked up to meet his gaze. Its been so long since someone looked at me like that.

His ocean blue eyes dilated and he licks his lips before saying, "Lock the door." His accent became thick and his voice was husky. "No," "No?" "You're injured. Anything we do could pull your stitches." "The last time I checked, I wasn't left handed." I take a moment to let that sink in before shaking my head no.

"Don't make me put you over my knee," he whispers into my ear, sending cold chills down my body. "Lock the door," he adds. I release a sigh I didn't know I held and I walk towards the door. I locked the door and left my hand on the cold, wooden door. I feel one hand over mine and the other on my waist. I lean the back of my head on his chest.

He presses a kiss on the crook of my neck. I am turned out and pressed against the door. He links one of his hands with mine and uses his left hands to wrap my around my throat. He presses a warm kiss on my lips and I moan when he swipes his tongue across my lips. I pull away from his hand and hold the back of his neck as I continued to kiss him.

My body craved his touch more and more with every kiss. It felt like my entire body was on fire. He tries to lift me into his arms but I pull his hands away from hips. I walk him to the backwards on to the bed. He falls on his back and pulls me closer by my neck as I straddle his upper torso. I pull away from his lips to take off my shirt and I unbuckle his pants with one motion.

I slide my hands into his pants and slowly pump his soft member. He arches his back softly and presses his head into the bed. I kiss his neck warmly and pick up the pace with my pumping. He grabs the headboard and continue pumping until he came all over my hand. He lays normally on the bed and breathes heavily. I lick the cum off of my fingers and kiss up his stomach and chest.

He holds the back of my head and presses more kisses on my lips. He used his right hand to unbuckle my pants and pulls his boxers down. I sink myself into his member and slowly bounce on it. I softly moan into his mouth as I feel the tip of his dick brush up against my g-spot.

I grab the headboard of the bed and continued to find the spot over and over again. The headboard slammed against the wall rhythmically and my legs clenched as we both finish. I slide off of his member and fall to the side. "I missed you," he says, making me chuckle. He wraps an arm around me and kisses my neck warmly. "I've missed you too," I say as I caress his arm.

Boss's voice echoes in my mind. "We're going to pull you out," "What? Why? I thought you needed me here?" "You were right. They've got it handled and we need you elsewhere." "How much time do I have?" "Until tomorrow morning. Spend your time wisely."

"Y/N?" Illya's voice, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Are you okay?" "Yeah, I was just thinking about something," "Something like what?" "Something you're not going to like." I turn around so I am facing him. "Boss pulled me out of this mission." "What? Why?" "Im needed somewhere else," "What time do you leave?" "At first light tomorrow,"

"No," "Excuse me?" "You're not going." "You and I both know what happens to us when we don't comply, Illya." "Not if we run," "Don't be ridiculous. We'll never pull that off." "You're right. We couldn't, but you could." I sit up on the bed and cross my arms. I chew on the inside of my cheek in thought.i shake my head in disbelief. This is such a manic idea, but you only live once, Y/N. You might as well do it with the man you love.

"We leave within the hour," I whisper and he grabs the side of my face and presses a kiss on my cheek. "There's something else you should know," "Da," "I set everything up with the thugs. I wanted them to follow me because I knew that they had your father's watch." "Why didn't you say that if you knew I was following you too?" "That would have ruined the surprise," "You never seize to amaze me," he says with a smile.

[strawberriestyles]

Chapter 18

(Banner made by sweet sunshine @harry-nofookingway-styles​)

Harry X OFC (AU)

Sequel to Brutality: In which Melody and Harry must relearn how to navigate one another among a flurry of changes.

Read previous parts here.

Author’s note: YAY FOR CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT. When you’re finished reading, please sign this petition to reopen Sandra Bland’s case. (If you’re somehow not familiar with her story, a simple Google search will give you any info you need.) Then please come talk to me about Ferocity. Enjoy, boos! Xx

Harry was almost elated, throwing jabs at a punching bag. There was some high to be found in the monotony, the routine of training, even though he no longer had anything to be training for.

It was late afternoon and the street outside glowed, dunes of snow glistening where they had been packed along the edges of the sidewalk. Melody had told Harry that she and Sean liked to train in the morning, but today, Sean has pushed their time back. And Harry was grateful that he’d been allowed to tag along.

Melody was in the ring, sweat dripping down her torso as she slammed her gloves into Sean’s mitts. Harry, as much as he tried to focus on his own swings, was watching her form—the space between her feet, the twist of her body, the rippling muscles in her arms, the way her lips formed around each outlet of breath. It was almost surreal to see her employing everything he’d shown her, back before she’d been anything more than mildly interested in boxing. Sean had really shaped her up.

The pair paused. Melody stripped off one of her new, customized gloves and took a long gulp of water. She passed her bottle to Sean, who squirted a mouthful past his lips, and then nearly choked as he laughed at something Melody had said. Both of their faces lit up. Melody turned toward Harry and he whipped his head around, returning to his punching bag with a new intensity.

He was still throwing hooks when he felt a gentle tap at his shoulder.

“I’m done,” Melody said. She dropped her bag on the floor beside him and pulled a thick hoodie over her head, freeing her ponytail from the collar. “I’m running home. You can take a cab if you want.”

Sean passed them on his way out the door and lifted one hand in a wave of farewell, pointedly avoiding Harry’s eyes. They’d spoken, but the strange tension had yet to diffuse.

“No,” Harry answered with a shake of his head. “I’ll run with yeh.” He didn’t yet believe that she’d imagined Colton outside the grocery store, and even when her anger and hurt over her birthday was fresh, he’d had trouble letting her out into the city on her own.

Melody nodded. Harry tucked his gloves into her unzipped bag and then pulled the strap across his body. He’d kept his sweatshirt on during his workout and it was drenched in sweat, his hair sticking to his neck. He still hadn’t grown used to the inability to tie it back.

Cold air rushed past them as Melody opened the glass door out onto the street. A light flurry had begun. Clumped snowflakes swirled around them, churning up their hair, melting against their cheeks. Harry blinked against a bitter wind and Melody kicked off the pavement, picking up a steady pace in the direction of the apartment. Harry stole a deep breath and followed, swiveling her bag around so that it beat against the bottom of his back in time with each step.

The city was dimmed and muffled. All Harry could hear was the drag of his lungs and the slap of his sneakers against the sidewalk. He kept his eyes on the soles of Melody’s shoes and hopped beside her when they reached busy intersections, only for her to take off again when the lights changed, leaving him in her wake.

By the time they reached the apartment building, Harry had to drag himself up the flights of stairs, panting. He fell through the door to the kitchen, kicked his shoes off, and dropped Melody’s bag at the entrance to her room.

Melody was already tearing her hoodie over her head and stripping off her pants as Harry sank into the edge of the mattress. She shivered as she removed her underwear. And she could feel Harry’s eyes on her but when she turned around he was staring at his feet, combing his fingers through his hair, still trying to catch his breath. She tugged on the hair tie holding her ponytail.

“Are you coming?”

Harry glanced up, confused. Melody was naked, skin glistening, with color in her cheeks from exertion.

“What?”

“The shower,” she said. “Are you gonna shower with me?”

Harry let out an uneven breath. “Yeh want me to shower with you?”

“Sure.”

Rising to his feet, Harry yanked his own clothes off. He wasn’t going to wait until she changed her mind. Melody was waiting in the doorway when he finished and she grasped his hand as he reached her. He was too stunned to say anything. And then they were in the bathroom and the water was running, and Melody stepped into the stream.

Harry hung back, watched her wet her hair. Dye colored the rivers that ran down her back, pink-tinged red, from when Bea had recolored her hair the week prior.

“Harry,” Melody prompted. She pulled her hair over one shoulder and held a hand out to him.

Harry nodded, more to himself, and stepped over the lip of the tub. He drew a sharp breath between his teeth as the water scalded his shoulder, but he pulled the shower curtain shut behind him.

“Sorry,” Melody whispered, lowering the temperature. She pressed Harry back by the chest once she’d adjusted the water.

Harry placed his palm over Melody’s fingers. It probably wasn’t the case, but it was like he hadn’t felt her touch since dinner that night, when she’d kissed his cheek, tugged on the ends of his hair. He closed his eyes as water ran down his cheeks in rivulets.

“You didn’t really think,” Melody uttered, “that I forgot your birthday, did you?”

Harry sighed. He let his head fall forward as her hands looped up, around his neck, stroked the top of his spine. That wasn’t exactly what he thought. More so that she was ignoring his birthday, not that he had an incredible desire for a celebration.

“Happy birthday, Harry,” Melody whispered, barely above the thunder of the water. She stood on her toes to wrap her arms around his shoulders. He held her close to him.

“Thank you.”

Melody’s mouth settled at the top of Harry’s chest, just below his collar bone. She scattered a few kisses across his skin, until he nudged her with his chin. “Mel,” he whispered.

She sighed and took a step back, lifting one of his hands to press her lips against his scarred knuckles.

“I shouldn’t have just ignored you,” Melody said. She cradled his hand to her chest. “There are other ways for me to—”

“I don’ blame yeh for ignorin’ me, Mel.”

“It’s immature, Harry. It’s stupid. I could’ve gotten over it while still talking to you. I’m sorry.”

“Yeh don’ need to apologize to me for shit,” he insisted. “I don’ care. I deserved it. ‘M so sorry.”

Melody blew out a breath and dropped his hand. “You didn’t. You didn’t deserve it. Ignoring each other is not how we should be handling our problems. I really am sorry. But thank you for trying to fix it, Harry.” She reached for his face, tucking the curling edges of hair behind his ears. “I know it’s only been a few weeks but I’m really proud of you. For talking. Even if it’s not to me. It’s important.”

Harry grunted. She smiled at the familiarity of the sound and tugged on him, until she could meet his lips, water running into her mouth. It felt like tension drained from her body, and the way his shoulders relaxed, the way his arms gathered her up, it was like he didn’t have a single other care.

“Missed yeh,” Harry mumbled. He twirled the ends of her hair around his hand and tugged, tilting her head back, deepening the kiss against her smiling mouth. “Think I owe yeh birthday sex. And maybe a redo for New Year’s.” The thought of it still made him cringe.

Melody laughed, clinging to one shoulder as he kissed down her jaw, tracing the side of her neck with his tongue. “I think I still owe you from your last birthday, actually,” she responded.

Harry frowned, but Melody was sliding between his arms before he could ask, settling gently on her knees at his feet.

“Only done this once before, remember? You always have other ideas.”

“Because yeh don’ need to, love.” Harry watched her blink up at him, lick the rolling water from her lips. He pressed his teeth painfully into his tongue.

“Want to,” she said. Her fingertips raked up his thighs as she kissed his lower belly. He rested a hand against the wall of the shower, suddenly lightheaded.

Melody stroked the length of Harry’s dick, feeling it grow between her fingers. She swept a sheet of dripping hair back from her face. The water fell hard against her back. Harry sighed from above her and let his eyes fall closed, reluctantly, as she sponged kisses up the underside of his cock.

“Really don’ need to—”

“Shh,” Melody whispered. She pulled the hand that hung limply at Harry’s side to her head. Her mouth slid over the tip of his dick as his fingers laced into her hair.

“Oh, fuck,” he muttered, blinking down at her. Melody’s eyes were closed, but her fingers were tight around him, her mouth warm as she fed more of him past her lips. Her tongue roved across his skin and he groaned.

Melody shimmied forward on her knees, shifting out of the water until her back was to the wall, turning Harry with her. She lowered her head until he reached the back of her tongue, and then pulled away for a quick breath, pumping her hand up and down his cock.

“Ah, fuck,” Harry uttered, leaning his forehead into the shower wall and screwing his eyes closed. If the stream of water hadn’t been washing him clean, he was sure his skin would be slick with sweat.

Melody’s chest ached with her next inhale as she watched his tongue swipe along his lips, the divot between his brows deepening. She kissed the head of his dick and then closed her lips around him again, bobbing her head. The fist in her hair grew tighter, knuckles bumping against her scalp, and it only spurred her on. She pressed herself forward until her nose touched Harry’s belly, until she felt his muscles jumping beneath his skin.

“Baby,” he moaned. His throat tightened. How many times had he called her that without realizing? “Mel, stop.”

She pulled off of him with a gasp, tilting her face up toward him, blinking in confusion. “What?”

Harry blinked back at her, water running from his hair. Her face sparkled with droplets like jewels beneath the bathroom lights.

“I just wanna fuck yeh, love.”

Melody’s hands curled into fists against his thighs. She licked her lips, amusement playing at their edges. “Harry, you stopped me last time too because—”

“Because it feels like a waste when I could be fuckin’ yeh. Please,” he muttered, loosing his grip on her hair and sliding his thumb down her jaw. “Feels so good but ‘s been weeks since I felt yeh on me.”

Melody groaned, but she let him pull her up against the wall, fitting his hands to her waist, licking into her mouth. She clasped her fingers at the back of his neck and reveled in the familiar feel of his lips against hers. His palms slid up her ribs. The pads of his thumbs pressed into her nipples and she hummed, stretching her spine, filling his hands with her breasts.

Harry squeezed at her indulgently but his cock throbbed with impatience. His hands hurried back down her sides, grasping the tops of her thighs and hoisting her up onto his hips.

“Go on then, birthday boy,” Melody whispered, kissing the edge of Harry’s jaw and then drawing her teeth along his neck. “Fuck me.”

Harry’s cock twitched again. He pressed his body against Melody’s as he guided himself inside her. “Christ,” he hissed into her ear. “Fuck, yes.”

Melody sighed, linking her ankles together at the base of his spine. When she was fully seated on him, her breath caught.

“I hate when we’re mad,” she mumbled, pressing the back of her head to the wall of the shower. “Please, let’s not be mad again. Fuck.”

Harry shook his head and shifted his hips, testing his point of balance and making sure that his feet wouldn’t slip. “Fuckin’ torture when yeh won’ let me touch yeh.”

“Torture for me, too,” Melody said, wrapping one arm around his shoulders. “Always want your hands on me. Watch you do anything and it feels like I’m gonna catch on fire if I don’t feel you touching me.”

Harry groaned, lifting her weight and aiming his first thrust. Melody’s lips fell apart as she sank back down around his cock.

“Touchin’ yeh enough now?”

She nodded quickly, turning her nose into the side of his neck. “Yes.” Her voice cracked as he bucked against her.

“Miss my cock when yeh’re not talkin’ to me?”

Melody only now felt her skin flush, despite the constant, stifling heat of the shower, the burn of Harry’s skin where it met hers. She clung tighter to him and hummed a quiet sound of assent.

“‘S okay,” he mumbled against her shoulder. His mouth closed around a spot of flesh, teeth prickling as he sucked on the skin. Melody winced and then released a strangled moan when he fucked into her. “Takin’ me right. Cunt’s nice and tight on me. Can feel how much yeh missed it.”

Melody’s shoulder pulsed, even as Harry pressed gentle kisses to it. She shivered as he continued to whisper to her. And her belly tightened when his fingers pressed greedily into the flesh of her ass.

“Oh, fuck,” Harry breathed. He forced an arm between her back and the wall, pressing her chest forward, chasing the weak spasm of her pussy with eager thrusts. “Gonna squeeze me again? Make me come, baby?”

“Please,” Melody choked out. She placed her hands on either side of Harry’s face as he pulled back from her shoulder, pressing his forehead to hers, watching her eyes flutter, wet hair clinging to her cheeks.

“So fuckin’ close,” Harry said, fingers curled against Melody’s hip. She kissed him messily, water still spilling between their mouths. It only took another few strokes for her to gasp, tipping her head back, moaning loud enough for the noise to echo between the walls of the bathroom.

“Yes, tha’s it.” Harry grunted, nose to the underside of Melody’s chin, slamming forward to empty himself into her. His legs trembled and the hand at her hip turned, palm flat against the wall. “Fuck.”

Melody caught her breath and then twisted her head, lowering her face until she could meet Harry’s lips. She kissed him slowly, stroked his wet cheeks with her thumbs. His chest heaved against her and his breath came in wild rasps over her face, down her neck. She pulled her lips between her teeth, biting at them.

“God, what the fuck is wrong with me?”

Melody blinked in confusion, her nose bumping Harry’s. “What?”

He ducked to slide his face into the curve of her neck. “Makin’ yeh upset enough not to have sex with me,” he elaborated. “Three fuckin’ weeks. How the fuck did I go three weeks without that?”

Melody smiled lazily and ran her fingers down his spine. The water was beginning to grow cold as she wiggled in his arms, and he set her back on unsteady feet, flinching away from the stream.

“Love you,” Melody whispered, reaching to turn the temperature up. She stood on her toes to press a final kiss to Harry’s lips, stroking his cheek, and then stepped beneath the water to soak her hair.

***

The sheets laid in a heap at the end of the bed. Melody’s cheek was pressed to Harry’s shoulder, her ankle looped around his leg, fingers tickling the skin of his chest, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so at ease.

He was full of cake. Bea had baked it for him, surprisingly. And she’d given him a wig that had been disturbingly reminiscent of his long hair—“I realized the longer your hair, the less of your face I have to see, and it just seemed like an all-around win.” Sean had sent a present for him, too, despite his cool attitude earlier in the day. There was a brand new gym bag in Melody’s closet.

Melody’s gifts were scattered about the room. A fresh pair of training shoes, a set of wireless earbuds, and a couple of Fleetwood Mac records to play on her turntable. Harry had snorted when he’d opened those.

“You do like them, don’t you?” she’d checked.

“Yeah, yeah. I do. Love Fleetwood. They’re my mum’s favorite.”

He glanced across the room at the cover of Rumours, propped against the wall on top of Melody’s dresser, the picture of them in a brand new frame right beside it, as he raked his fingers through her hair. He was so close to sleep. But on the other side of the bedroom door, he could still hear Bea and Josie laughing at whatever film they’d chosen for the night.

Still no luck with Josie. The wig was strictly a gift from Bea, although Josie had snuck a large slice of his birthday cake. She took her food seriously.

”Harry,” Melody spoke, suddenly very much awake.

“Hmm?”

“My, um...” Her fingers stilled on his chest and then she scratched the tip of her nose. “My mom wants me to invite you to her party.”

“Your mum’s throwin’ a party?” Harry chuckled. “Is she still that young?”

“It’s not what you’re thinking.” Melody smiled and then let it fall away rather quickly. “Its for her birthday. In April. It’s like...my mom is kind of flashy. She likes to have this sort of mixer thing every year with her rich friends. And everyone gets all dressed up and she pretends we have even close to the amount of money they have. It’s kind of embarrassing. And I have to go. I haven’t seen my parents since July, I think. But she wants you to come.”

”Oh.”

“You don’t have to go. I told her you probably wouldn’t want to. It’s honestly—”

“No, I’ll go, Mel. I’ll go with yeh.”

Melody tilted her head back. “I’m serious. You don’t need to.”

“D’yeh not want me to come?”

“What?” She shook her head. Harry saw the dark bruise on her shoulder, remnant of his mouth on her skin. “No. I mean, of course I’d love if you came with me. But it’s the first time you’d be meeting my parents and I know that’s a lot of pressure. I didn’t know if you’d want that to be at some snobby party.”

“Yeah. I’ll come with yeh, love.” He didn’t tell her that meeting her parents would be one of the most uncomfortable experiences he’d ever had, no matter the setting.

“I don’t know who you are,” Melody said with a gentle laugh, delivering a hard kiss to his cheek. “But they’re dying to meet you.”

Harry hummed, running the tip of his finger over the purpling mark on her skin, watching it change shapes in the dying light.

Chapter 19