#but no really it was funny i have one of those pour over coffee makers and i'm pouring the water and suddenly my nose is BURNING

[fuckin-sick-bih]

no yeah sure it's all fun and games until you have to sneeze while pouring boiling hot water for coffee and then it's terrifying!

[fadingdaggerr]

Hi luv I love you works so much !!!!!

Idk if you're still taking a request but I have an idea for r and melissa fics :). So r has a big bombastic crush on melissa and so does Melissa but you know how Melissa is, she's acting like she hates r. But then they ended up wrapping a birthday gift together for one of the teachers. And then they confess, kiss and stuff :)

Thank youuuuuuuuu

just how we feel

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above! eight months at abbot had you convinced melissa hated you, until jacob pairs you together for janine’s birthday celebrations

warnings/includes: insecurity (mel and r), mel is mean to r, angst? or at least angst-adjacent, resolved conflict, confession, little bit of kissing

italicized sections are flashbacks

note: on this episode of ‘sol got a little too into this and they almost forgot the prompt’ did i project onto mel a little in this one. yeah? i did. and we’re gonna say NOTHING. n e ways. enjoy <3

your first day at abbott all those months ago had been a rocky start, but now the school practically felt like home. the kids were sweet and pretty funny, full of unbridled energy, but sweet and funny nonetheless. most of your fellow teachers were nice, helpful even. janine seemed to be the most excited about you joining the team, jacob a close second. you were thankful for gregory’s calm presence when you sat with them, both of you just allowing the other two to speak to their hearts’ content. ava had told you she was ‘glad there was someone close to her level of sexy,’ because apparently being the only one was exhausting for her.

your eyes landed on a redhead seated close to the coffee maker. big green eyes and glossy lips, her leather jacket exuding confidence for her. she caught onto your careful staring, her eyes scanned over you quickly, lingering briefly when your eyes met. you smiled lightly under her attention, giving her a tiny wave. she looked down instead of replying.

for the first month, you hadn’t said much more than hello and good morning to barbara or melissa. eyes of aventurine burned holes into you every time you so much as tried to speak to one of them, to the point where you only greeted barbara when she was alone, never saying a word to the redhead. you wished those beautiful eyes would look at you with something other than disdain, and maybe her voice would hold flowers instead of thorns.

you had tried, you really did. melissa’s presence was alluring, her laugh and smile were unbelievably beautiful, even if they were never directed towards you. it was a struggle to not even look at her, but being caught felt like it would result in being screamed at. you tried small waves, even just a nod of acknowledgment, but no matter what you did, you were always met with cold response.

“good morning, melissa,” you said with a soft smile as you poured yourself a cup of bitter coffee.

“yeah,” was all she responded with.

it hurt to no end. for some reason that you apparently weren’t worthy of knowing, melissa schemmenti hated you.

after six long months, and a new school year, barbara had started to make little visits to you classroom before the day started. most conversations were pleasant, and always ending at exactly the same time. the moment melissa walked into the building, you were back to being by yourself.

—

getting in early gave you a sense of control. everything could be set up before anyone, even other teachers, could see otherwise felt nice. what was also nice was that barbara and gregory were the only other two that showed up just after you, janine only a few minutes behind them. early mornings meant you could speak to your coworkers, especially barbara, without anxiety eating you inside-out.

“baby, i haven’t seen you all week! how was your weekend?” barbara asks from your doorway with a kind smile.

“oh, hey barb. it was good, little sad about the rain though,” you say with a small pout, “i was supposed to go to this mini-market my neighborhood has. how was yours?”

an excited look crosses her face, “oh, it was lovely. gerald and i went out to dinner saturday, just the two of us. sunday we had brunch with melissa at gustavo’s.”

the mention of melissa’s name made your content smile falter. she was incredibly guarded with everyone, that wasn’t your problem. it was that everyone else, even the worst and actually annoying ones, at least got a small smile and a greeting. you didn’t even get an acknowledgment other than the occasional glare that came when you entered the lounge.

“that’s nice,” you said with a tight-lipped smile, turning away to adjust a stack of quizzes on your desk. you miss the way barbara looks at you with confusion, your reaction feeling off to her. the clock ticked, telling you it’s time for melissa to arrive. turning to barbara, you swallow your emotions, “i’ll see you later barb.”

that same day at lunch you quickly dropped quarters into the vending machine with shaking fingers, melissa standing beside you, waiting her turn. the last iced tea drops down and you hear a huff from the redhead’s lips behind you, then catch sight of her moving to sit down. the defeat written on her face told you that the iced tea was something she liked, had even been looking forward to. a nagging feeling pulled at your heart, the desire too strong to get rid of the barely noticeable frown on her lips.

you walk over and place the raspberry iced tea on the table in front of her, “have a nice day, miss schemmenti.” you left quickly, not wanting to see the disgust for you on her features. if you had stayed you would’ve seen the sad look across her face at the interaction, namely your departure.

—

early november was filled with secret meetings before students arrived, and most importantly, before janine arrived. you had all avoided her like the plague, scared to reveal secrets about her upcoming birthday. twenty-six is a very big deal, according to jacob, but so was her twenty-fifth.

you all played along with jacob’s plans and enthusiasm, he even somehow convinced barbara to take janine out for a one-on-one breakfast as a birthday surprise. ava had agreed to one singular day of not making fun of janine for anything, even her clothes ava! gregory stayed private about his plans for janine’s birthday. even with all of you were practically begging him to spill the beans, he kept his mouth shut with a little smile making its way forward.

jacob had divided the rest of the gifts that janine absolutely needed between himself and zach, you, and melissa. he had already planned when to get the big gift, whatever it was, with zach over the weekend. this meant he had assigned you and melissa to buying and arranging the decorations. when he suggested this, you wished you hadn’t looked over to melissa. you watch her head bow down, muttering something under her breath with a face of annoyance. when her eyes looked up to meet yours, you immediately looked away and picked at your nails.

five minutes before janine was to arrive, your secret meeting ended, everyone quickly going to their typical places. in the lounge you stand next to barbara where she sits at her table with melissa.

it took a couple deep breaths before speaking to calm yourself. after fumbling with your bag to grab your wallet, you drop two twenties in front of melissa, “here, money for the decorations. saves you from having to deal with me.” and with that, you leave the lounge and walk to your classroom, leaving melissa behind with a frown.

the redhead turns to barbara, “what was that?” barbara only responds with a sharp glare and a shake of the head. melissa’s head perks up to see if anyone else had witnessed it, but jacob and gregory are quick to turn away and avoid her gaze. she turns back to barbara, “what?!”

ava is the only one brave enough to say, “that was the final straw in live action.”

“what does that mean?” melissa is fuming, which is only worsened when jacob mumbles under his breath, “what did you say, hill?”

with wide eyes, and hands gripping the table as if he would throw it if she attacked, jacob says quickly, “if you’re rude to someone all the time, they’re gonna be rude back.”

“that schemmenti snark is great, but pissy smurf is a human too, even if you hate them,” ava speaks up again. her words actually stopped melissa’s thoughts for a second. hate you? when did she say she hated you? she didn’t hate you, yet everyone else seemed to agree on it.

gregory clears his throat, “just saying, the response to ‘good morning,’ typically isn’t just ‘yeah’ or ignoring it completely.”

“am i really that bad?” melissa asks in a quieter tone, only barbara picking up on the insecurity. the silence from everyone is more than telling, making melissa think to herself for a moment. you hadn’t eaten in the teachers’ lounge since your second week at abbott, the last time she’d seen you here was after janine’s friend ruined her books.

she walked into the lounge to take a breather, not even noticing anyone else was in the room. when you saw her flushed face and her hands tensing into fists, you’d asked her if she was alright and if she needed or wanted help, a kind expression despite the worry behind your eyes. seeing melissa upset made you feel the need to act for a reason you couldn’t place yet, but her apprehension towards you grew your own doubt. when she turned to look at you, the anger and resentment on her face only grew.

“do i look like i need your fucking help?”

you stuttered back a bit at the aggressive nature of her tone, the stone cold look in her eyes making you feel small. you blinked quickly, only answering with a mumbled ‘sorry’ before leaving.

thinking about the interaction, her heart shattered for you and anger for herself rose. you’d done nothing but try to show her some semblance of kindness, even when she was horrible to you. she yelled at you, swore at you, and you still gave her your iced tea, held doors, and last week you brushed the light dusting of snow off her car before you left.

“fuck it,” she says as she stands and heads down the hallway. she was going to talk to you, even if she had never actually done so before. when she reaches your classroom, she wipes sweaty hands on her shirt, nerves eating her alive. it shouldn’t be this hard to talk to you, but the knowledge that you were sure she hated you made the task impossible. she peeks in the window and sees you stabbing at something in tupperware, but not eating it. she finds some amount of courage to knock.

“open,” you call out. when you turn to see who entered, your shoulders tense immediately. your mouth moves faster than your brain and you ask her, “was i not allowed to stand near your table? i’ll make note for next time.”

melissa visibly cringes at the comment but doesn’t retaliate, she knows she deserved that one. she looks down at the floor for a moment, then back to you, “i don’t hate you.”

“you don’t even look like you believe that,” you turn your chair to face her, leaned back with your arms crossed. you sigh, “it’s fine, don’t dwell on it. i’m not going to anymore.”

“i don’t hate you,” melissa repeats, “but i know i haven’t done anything to help my case.”

“no, you haven’t,” you say, looking at the floor as you stand from the chair. you lean against the desk and face melissa, doubt written across your expression. you sigh, “but you can try to help it now. maybe explain why i walked into abbott and became a god damn pariah.”

she closes the door behind herself and leans against the wall across from you. she’s never been so nervous, but with your eyes trained on her instead of jumping away, her heart races.

she fusses with her rings for a second then says, “i don’t like new people. never have, probably never will. that’s not an excuse, i know.” you nod, understanding part of her original apprehension but motion for her to continue. she thankful for a second and goes on, “you’re so warm to everyone, even me, even when i’m not. stupid thing, i like how nice you are to me, how for some reason you think of me even when i’m,” she gestures up and down herself, “me.”

you blink a couple times, collecting your thoughts, “you like that i’m nice to everyone, to you, so you swear at me and never respond when i say good morning?”

she takes a sharp inhale, “…yes. i’m not used to that, there’s no catch, no little jokes or whatever, just nice. i don’t want people looking at me, talking to me, it’s bleh,” she appreciates the little laugh you let out, “but from you, it feels different, good different. and i’m an idiot apparently because i fight it, i fight ‘cause i’m expecting the shoe to drop. but there’s no shoes! not until it was a bad different, especially coming from you, and it was my fault.”

melissa hadn’t realized her eyes had began to water at her words. she’d never been good at this, verbalizing feelings when she didn’t fully understand what they were. she glanced up at you, expecting anger written in the lines of your face, only to find what she could only think was empathy, perhaps understanding. you nod, letting her continue, seeing the nervous look on her face telling you there was more.

“the yelling at you, i am so, so sorry. she destroyed hundreds of dollars of books and i was so angry, i didn’t think about what i said, who i said it to. dio, i wished i could punch myself in the mouth after i said it,” she wants to cry just remembering your face when she snapped at you, “even after you look at me, and there’s no anger, nothing. and i cant read what’s going on, and i try to figure it out, but you look away.”

you looked at her, then the floor in front of her, a silent request to step closer. she accepts by relaxing her tight shoulders, only three feet laying between the two of you now. she can smell the rain that lingered on your clothes from the walk in mixing with eucalyptus, the combination and your presence somehow calming her a little.

“i understand what you mean. i don’t like different either. hate it, actually. but, abbott is good different, and it started to feel less good when i got yelled at, stared at, and flat out ignored otherwise.” she nods quickly, accepting blame for it all. talking to you now, she’s never felt more like an asshole, from new york.

“hon, i’m so sorry for everything i’ve said and done. i know none of what i said excuses it, i just wanted to explain. i’ll be better, i’ll work on it,” she puts out her pinky. you squint at it, then her, “and you can tell barb on me any time or you can just yell at me.” she decidedly likes the laugh that bubbles out from you.

“deal,” you say as you wrap your pinky around hers, both of you giving the other a shake.

—

saturday melissa picked you up from your apartment to go shopping for janine’s present. she bounced on the balls of her feet as she waited for the buzzer to alert her you’d let her in. she walked up the stairs with nerves desperately trying to pull her back, but she pressed on. she felt more nervous knocking on your door now than she did the other day. what has gotten into me, she grumbled go herself.

she can hear footsteps approaching and she steps back instinctively. when you open the door she’s greeted by the sight of your out of work clothes, fuzzy orange slippers with smileys still on your feet.

“hey,” melissa says as you move to let her in. she’s cautious in her movements into your apartment, looking only at the floor.

shutting and locking the door quickly behind her, you reply, “hi.”

“scared someone will steal your cute little slippers?” melissa tries not to let her heart kick her ribs when you roll your eyes with a little laugh.

“obviously. well, and my cat,” you say as you place dirty dishes in the sink for later.

melissa scanned around the apartment, there was a scratch tower, but no sign of a cat, “can other people see this cat?”

you chuckle as you walk over to the tv, reaching behind it. a giant fluffy brown cat is revealed, now cradled in your arms like a baby. you walk over to her, “this…” you present him with a big smile on your face, “is frank. i’m pretty sure he thinks if he’s behind the tv then it means he’s on the screen.”

melissa smiles at the cat who is like a puddle in your arms, she raises a hand and shakes his paw that sticks up, “nice to meet you, frank.” the cat blinks at her a couple times before turning in your arms to drop to the floor and running to sit on his perch.

“i think that’s him saying we have obscene amount of ribbon and stickers to buy and he won’t hold us up,” you giggle, sliding off your slippers and grabbing what could only be described as the first pair of converse to ever exist. melissa thinks they may have once been grey, but she’s not sure you’d even remember.

apparently craft stores are the place to be on a saturday afternoon in november. you were both stood in the party aisle, trying to pick a theme and decorations out. the options were plentiful, but so was the obnoxiousness of it all, glitter and shimmers everywhere. all very janine, but very not the two of you.

melissa leans to you and asks, “what if we just got her a glitter step stool?”

“she’d be too scared to use it,” you say through a laugh. you reach towards a light blue and purple floral set of table decorations, across it, golden glitter decorating the edges. holding it up to melissa, she shrugs with a nod, it was the least offensive to the eyes and had janine written all over it.

you and melissa walked around and grabbed light blue plastic tablecloths, other little floral decoration from that theme, and some paper and markers for a sign. you ran back while in line to grab stickers and plastic photo stands, leaving melissa with very full arms. melissa’s hands shake when she gives the cashier the money from her wallet, the two twenties you placed in front of her staring at her from the pocket. the walk to the car was easy, the drive back to your place was comforting in a way.

“jacob gave me a deck of pictures to put in the little clip things,” you say as you unlock your door, letting melissa in first.

“i don’t even want to know how he got them,” she jokes, though she’s suddenly tense. she doesn’t have time to think of why before she feels something brush against her leg, seeing frank at her feet.

she watches you tread to what she can guess is your bedroom, and when you return, you have pictures in hand and franks attention, the fluff ball running to you immediately. melissa watches you flick through pictures, seeing your facial expressions morph from awww to oh god.

“i’m scared of jacob for real now. pretty sure he stole her camera or hacked into her phone to get these,” you say as you face a couple odd ones toward her. by the looks of it all, you were right, jacob might be terrifying.

she grabs the bag with the decorations and art supplies, spreading everything out on the coffee table, “let’s do this.”

after about half an hour, you’d grown quiet and your pace had slowed down in the lettering on the poster. melissa could tell you were really paying attention to what you were doing, solely running on autopilot as you though about something. she flicked a little paper sticker-back at you to get your attention, you head shaking with a sharp inhale.

“you’re thinking do hard you might cause an earthquake,” melissa says, making you smile a bit, “what’s up?”

“the other day, the stuff you said about different and stuff,” you take a breath in, “what did you mean when you said me talking to you and whatever was good different?”

it’s melissa turn to go quiet and get a tad bit shy. her mind immediately started thinking of anything she could say that wasn’t the truth, that could placate you and this conversation. as much as she wanted to just say you don’t suck, she can’t find herself wanting to lie to you, especially after you’d given her a chance for honesty.

she huffs a little laugh at herself, “i don’t fully know, if i’m being honest. sometimes attention from people is suffocating, annoying really, but from you it’s not. it feels kinda nice, actually, like this… i don’t know, like this fluttery feeling,” she says as she places stickers on the page in front of her, “until you look away and i can’t look back at least. i don’t even know why you’re staring, but you always are.”

your eyes fall to your lap, and melissa watches you pick at your nails. she’d noticed this habit, always seeing it when she caught you staring at her. she wishes she hadn’t been that honest. you muster the grit to quietly say, “i wasn’t staring at you or judging you, melissa. well i- i guess i was staring, which is rude but it wasn’t not like that. sometimes i just try to see what’s going on, what i’m doing wrong.”

melissa feels her heart aches at your words, you’d never done anything wrong to her yet you worried. you had tried to learn how to change to get her to like you when you never had to. she watches your gaze flick to her then back to your nails, her own quiet question on her lips, “and the other times?”

your lips purse as you feel heat run to your cheeks. “you’re really pretty, y’know? it’s kinda hard not to notice. sometimes i don’t even realize i’m doing it until you look back, then i have to tell myself to stop doing it cause it’s probably creepy and you probably hated it, and me,” you answered quietly, ceasing the feigned interest in your nails and finally looking at her.

that was… definitely not the answer melissa was expecting, though truthfully there wasn’t a real guess as to what you would say. her mind was buzzing at everything you said, but especially that you said said she’s pretty. you thought melissa was pretty.

she licks her lips, now visibly nervous, “don’t try to be all sweet and try to win my favor. we’ve been over that last part, i don’t hate you.”

you shuffle to sit on your knees, leaning over the table on your elbow, propping your face in your hands, “i’m not trying to win your favor. you asked me a question, and i answered it. honestly. but now it’s my turn to ask a question.”

“what’s your question?” melissa barely gets the sentence out. she’s stuck in her place by your words and your sudden closeness. you’re close enough to touch, but she can’t and she won’t. she doesn’t deserve to after how she’s treated you.

“fluttery feeling?” you kept your question simple, letting her say whatever she wanted without pressuring her.

she let out a puff, anxiety striking her. you’d been completely open with her, she owed you the same. she looked back to you, “you know, you think i’m pretty or whatever, so i’m guessing you haven’t seen yourself.” you chuckle at jokingly shocked expression, hear running to your cheeks. she cracks a little smile as she goes on, “any attention from you made me get all nervous, hence the snapping. i think i was embarrassed that i like the attention from you. you, specifically.”

as much as you had tried to hide the smile on your face, you couldn’t. melissa adored the way you tried your damned hardest, but you simply couldn’t. it was contagious, her own smile forming on her lips.

through a little laugh you say, “that the gayest thing you’ve ever said.”

melissa gasps out a laugh, “there are other gay things i’ve said?”

“are you kidding me? you said ‘decisive women are hot’ last week,” you say as your push down your laughter.

melissa swipes her hand down her face in defeat, “you got me there.”

your laughter dies down after a moment, you clear your throat saying, “for the record, you give me that fluttery feeling too. probably why i’m such a try-hard for your attention.”

melissa leans forward a bit, leaving only a few inches between you now. your tongue poked out to wet your lips, eyes flicking down to hers. it doesn’t go unnoticed by melissa as she takes the opportunity to take her gaze across your face. she finally speaks, “is that right?”

all you can manage is a small nod. melissa fights a smile as she reaches out gently nudge one of your hands away from your face, holding it in hers. she pulls you in by the hand, asking you with her eyes. she’s met again with a nod.

she lets go of your hand to cradle your face pulling you closer, she stops just before your lips can touch, asking you again. you answer by leaning in and pressing your lips to hers, soft and sweet. melissa sighs into her kiss, all the anxiety and nerves leaving her the second your lips met, her entire focus only on how gentle you were with her.

without disconnecting your lips, she’s moved around the corner of the coffee table that divided you, pressing into you more. your hands moved to delicately hold either of her neck, pulling her as close as you could. melissa’s free hand rests on your thigh, the warmth radiating off of you grounding her. just as her tongue swipes against your bottom lip, a rattle from next to you makes you both jump apart. looking to her right, melissa sees frank on the table, gnawing at one of the little daisy table decorations.

“christ, frankie. no, no, that’s not yours,” you scowled at the cat as you picked him up. you place him on the cat tower, “kill the vibe or the decorations, pick one not both. little jerk.” frank licks your hand, maybe as a sorry, “fine, apology granted.”

melissa just watched you, almost in a trance. you sit back down in front of her, grabbing her hand. “sorry about him,” you mumble.

“don’t worry about it. i think that him telling me i should ask you on a date first,” she says, looking up at your through dark lashes.

“is that right?” your mirror her words from earlier.

she breaths a little laugh, “yeah. i was thinking dinner, maybe. tomorrow? seven?”

“tomorrow at seven. i’m guessing we’re not having italian because it’s definitely never going to be as good as something you make,” you say.

melissa laughs and nods in agreement. she glances at the decorations and sign on the table, “we should probably finish that.”

you spend the next hour finishing everything up, only talking about little things. both of you wanted to save everything else for the date, something you had both silent agreed upon. when melissa was leaving, she looked back at you for a moment before saying, “i’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow. i’ll text you where we’re going once i find something.”

you smile, “sounds perfect. i’ll see you at seven, melissa.”

melissa sits in her car in the parking lot for a solid five minutes just grinning like a fool to herself. she wished she had sucked it up sooner and admitted it but she would change anything, not when she finally got her chance.

yeah went a little ham on this one. anyways thank you so much for the request i hope you liked it :) title is from flaming hot cheetos by clairo

as always, feedback is appreciated

[innytoes]

57 for Willex + Lancelot

Of course this is set in the Care and Feeding of Dragons verse.

"Morning, Dad!" Willie called, all but skipping into the kitchen. His dad was sitting at the kitchen island nursing a coffee, glaring at him blearily. He'd never really gotten used to the fact that no matter what time Willie got up, he was go-go-go. It was still just as funny now as it was when he was a kid. He started grabbing stuff from around the kitchen, maybe making a little more noise than necessary.

"What's wrong with cereal?" Dad complained, as he started measuring out flour.

"Alex is coming over for breakfast today," Willie told him. "So I'm making pancakes."

"Is he now?" Dad asked, before leaning over to give him sad puppy eyes. "What about your beloved father? Does he get pancakes?"

"What's wrong with cereal?" Willie snarked back, laughing when Caleb threw him a glare. "I'll make you pancakes if you promise to leave us alone to eat ours."

"Oh yes, I wouldn't want to interrupt your romantic date," Dad said. "You can have the dining room all to yourselves. I'll stay in here, with the coffee maker."

"Deal," Willie agreed. He went on to make the pancakes, loudly mixing (in the metal bowl for maximum noise) while Dad sipped his coffee. He was just pouring the first pancakes out on the griddle when the doorbell rang.

Just as planned.

Listen, it wasn't Willie's fault that Dad hadn't caught on to Alex living with them yet. Alex was too worried that Dad would say no and kick him out, which would mean he'd have to go live in the garage that Sunset Curve rented as a studio. Willie had tried to convince him that Caleb totally wouldn't mind, especially not with Alex' sad 'my parents don't want me back because I'm gay' backstory, but well, the anxiety brain weasels in his head won out.

Also, like, Willie kind of liked the chaos and sneaking around so he didn't push too hard. So every morning Alex would slip out of Willie's window, over the porch roof down one of the fancy support beams and pretend to come over, and every night Willie would say goodbye and then sneak him back in. Or, if Dad was working, just hide him in his room and pretend to be asleep when Dad got home. Or stage it so he'd been alone in the living room all evening.

So maybe he had to make some extra noise to drown out the sounds of Alex climbing down out of his window, with Dad already up. Not exactly a hardship for Willie. He liked being loud.

"I'll get it, don't leave the stove unattended," Dad said, bringing his coffee to the door and greeting Alex. It was always cute, the way Alex still stumbled over 'Caleb, Mister Covington, sir' after how long they'd been dating. Willie grinned, leaning over the island to press a kiss to Alex' cheek as Caleb made him a cappuccino with his fancy coffee maker.

He listened to his boyfriend make awkward small talk with his dad about 'if he got home alright' last night, going from Boring Normal Pancakes to Fun Pancakes with the last of the batter. A bat for Dad. Some (slightly lumpy) drum sticks for Alex. And a skateboard for himself. He placed those on the tops of the three stacks.

"Okay, done!" he said, dumping Dad's plate in front of him before dragging Alex to the dining room with him before he could roll his eyes.

The dining room, which was set up nicely, with a table cloth, the fancy silverware, and a small bouquet of flowers. On the seat opposite to Willie's, there was a fancy-looking box.

"Did I forget an anniversary?" Alex squeaked.

"Not unless I forgot it too," Willie said, going over to the Mysterious Box. It had Alex' name on it. He put down his plate, turning to Alex. "It's for you!"

Alex slowly approached, apprehensively shaking the box a little. It didn't sound like a bomb or anything. "You promise this isn't some kind of prank?"

"Hotdog, I swear it's not. Not from me, anyway." Did Luke and Reggie manage to break into their house? Dad had a great security system. Even though Willie had sometimes felt it was more to keep him In than it was to keep burglars Out. "Open it!"

"Okay," Alex said, putting the box on the table and using a fork to carefully lift the lid off at an arm's length. Willie hid behind him, peering over his shoulder, just in case it was some kind of glitter bomb.

When nothing happened, they moved closer, peering into the box.

Willie gasped. Inside was a soft, perfect, light pink dragon. It was the same one as Lancelot, except not squished and cuddled and spilled jam and glitter and paint on and washed for more than a decade.

"He's perfect," Alex said, gently lifting the dragon out of the box and hugging him close.

"Dude!" Willie said. "There's something on his tail!" He gently undid the ribbon. It was a key. A very familiar looking key.

"Well, if you weren't going to give him one, I thought I would," Dad said. He was standing just outside the dining room, leaning on the door frame, obnoxiously sipping his coffee. Keeping his promise, while still trolling the heck out of them.

"You knew?" Alex said, sounding scared.

"You boys aren't as subtle as you think," Dad said, smirking. "And if Alex is going to be living here, he needs his own stuffed animal."

"That's right," Willie agreed. "We take stuffed animals very seriously in this house."

Alex still looked a bit lost, hugging his dragon close. "You mean I can stay?" he whispered.

"Of course," Dad, coming into the dining room and putting a hand on Alex' shoulder. "You're always welcome here, Alex. How about we discuss the details after your romantic breakfast?" He winked at Willie.

Willie didn't even pretend to be mad, just catching his dad in a hug. "Thanks, Dad." All the sneaking around had been fun, but he'd known it would end up like this anyway. Well, he figured there's be more shouting first, but this was better.

"Wait, if you take stuffed animals so seriously, does that mean your dad has one too?" Alex asked Willie, as Dad retreated to the kitchen.

"Oh yeah, he has a big squishy bat I won for him at the fair when I was eleven," Willie said proudly. It still lived on Dad's fancy armchair in his bedroom.

"I use it to scream my frustrations into when my son does things like sneak his boyfriend in and out of the house for weeks!" Dad called.

"DAD! Stop ruining our romantic breakfast!" Willie called back, and Alex laughed, gently placing his new dragon on the chair next to him.

Yeah, things were going to be fine.

[spicykiwiis]

Late Night Café (pt. 1)

Summary: The streets of New York seem to change at night, and Bucky gets drawn in to the little café with strange work hours during a heavy storm. Lucky for him you really don't mind that he's drenched head to toe.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warning: None :)

Word Count: 2k

Series Masterlist

New York City completely changes at night.

Maybe it’s the lack of sunlight. Although these past few days have been pretty bleak, with rain forming puddles that cover the sides of the road and splash onto the sidewalk anytime a car drives by. Not that the sidewalks weren’t already wet though, this heavy rain hasn’t been forgiving, and not an inch of outside New York remains dry. Still though, even when the city hasn’t seen sunlight for what feels like forever now, the ambiance still shifts when it gets fully dark. It’s not that there’s a lack of people keeping it lively, no. I don’t think there’s ever going to be a point where the streets of New York have no people on them. Maybe it’s the type of people that are out. Surely that girl that walks by every early morning with her dog wagging its tail beside her is not the same girl that walks by at four in the morning with her heels in one hand and a beer in her other, bumping shoulders with her friends as they walk back from a night out.

You’d think with all the people that are out and about during those late nights in the city, some type of noise or chaos would follow them, but no. At some point in the night it always gets quiet, almost like a sense of stillness that slowly creeps up on you as the moon climbs up higher in the sky. And with that sense of stillness comes a sense of peace that covers the little café that lits up the dim streets of New York.

There’s a small sign on the door that says open 7am-6pm and then again 1am to 5am. It’s a weird schedule for a small local café to have, but still the little bell that hangs at the top of the door doesn’t cease to chime during those dark hours. It’s normally students that come in so late at night, looking for a caffeine boost that will help them get through those assignments that they’ve left for the last minute. There’s the insomniacs too though, and those always seem to be the same regular customers that have their orders ready for them when they stop by, like a sort of routine that gets created over time.

It’s been more quiet than normal the past few days though - heavy rain really seems to stop people from leaving the warmth of their apartments, no matter how sleep deprived they might be. The clock’s already at 2:34am, and if it were a normal day you would’ve already made and served at least 5 coffees. Even old Mike hadn’t shown up like he usually did every night at around 1:40, and now his mug stays empty and unused in the shelf, making you extremely aware of the absence of customers. You understand though, the rain is hitting extra heavy tonight, and the water that cascades down the windows makes the streetlights look distorted and blurry. No sane person would think to be out on the streets with this weather, but still you leave the small café open, busying yourself by wiping down a few tables and cleaning a few mugs and dishes Alfie from the dayshift had probably forgotten to clean.

The playlist you always played during these late shifts played quietly in the background, the smooth 40s jazz making you sway slightly side to side as you set the now clean dishes aside to dry. As much as you love serving customers, these rare empty nights are always appreciated from time to time, even if sometimes you can slowly feel loneliness creep up on you. You pushed those feeling down though, and right as you were about to step foot on the kitchen the small chime of the bell you had grown to appreciate over the years stopped you, catching you slightly off-guard.

It was a tall man that had just come in through the door. His short hair was completely drenched and was sticking down on his forehead, water droplets falling down his face. The black leather jacket he had on was completely wet, but lucky for him the impermeable material probably stopped the water from getting to the shirt he had underneath. He brought up a gloved hand and pushed back his hair, careful to not get anything wet.

“Sorry I- I don’t want to make a mess. I don’t have an umbrella and this was the only place open” his voice caught you off-guard, it’s softness making you relax your shoulders. You hadn’t noticed how tense you’d gotten, but a man his size coming in at almost 3 in the morning during a night like this would get anyone on edge. The hard look in his eyes had completely disappeared when he noticed and spoke to you, and you were glad about it.

“Oh please! Don’t worry, come in. Weather’s rough tonight. You can take a seat wherever.”

A small smile appeared on his face and disappeared as soon as it came, but you didn’t miss the look of relief on his face as he took a seat on one of the stools placed behind the main counter. You still took notice of how careful he was of not getting anything else wet, which was nice.

“What can I get you?” you smiled as you grabbed the little notepad clipped to your apron, ready to take his order.

“Uh- just a black coffee’s fine. Thank you.”

You nodded and walked over to the coffee maker, making sure everything was in order before making his coffee. He kept his jacket and gloves on, which slightly concerned you since he was drenched in water and probably freezing. You waited for the coffee to be made and watched from the corner of your eyes as he looked around the small café, stopping to look at all the doors in it for slightly longer periods of time. He seemed to be alert, but after a couple looks around the place he finally settled down completely.

The coffee machine came to a stop and you grab one of the mugs you had just cleaned, filling it to the top and grabbing a clean rag along the way as you went to serve it to him.

“Here’s your coffee. And here’s a clean rag if you want to dry yourself off a bit. Sorry I don’t have any towels on hand right now, I’d give you one if I did.” You placed the coffee in front of him and the rag next to it, smiling as he looked up to meet your eyes.

“Thank you.” He took the rag and brought it up to his hair, rubbing it to get rid of the excess water. “I’m sorry again- about the mess.”

You reassured him it was fine, that he didn’t even make a mess. It was only the entrance that had gotten wet, nothing a couple swipes with the mop could fix.

He still kept his gloves on even when holding the hot cup of coffee between his hands, but you decided not to question anything and went back to working. Most of the customers that came in during the late nigh shifts weren’t there to have a conversation anyways, just there to have something to drink and think about their lives. It was always interesting to see. There’s a lot of characters that come in so late at night, and working there you end up learning how to read people very well.

This guy though – he was hard to read. His mind seemed to be elsewhere, but you could tell he was still alert about what was going on around him. It was safe to say you hadn’t gotten a customer like him in the years you had been working here, and yet there was something weirdly comforting about his brooding presence. With the smooth jazz paying in the background, he seemed to belong there.

“Weird time for a café to be open.”

His deep voice catches you of guard again, he certainly didn’t seem like the type to come in and make conversation.

“Weird time to be drinking black coffee.” You replied back with amusement, both of you turning to look at the clock hanging on the wall to the left. 3:22am.

“Touché.”

He took a sip of his coffee and watched as you grabbed another clean mug and a tea bag, turning on the kettle that was next to the coffee machine. He seemed to be up for some distraction, so you spoke up again.

“So, what’s a guy like you doing walking around under pouring rain? With no umbrella too.”

“A guy like me?”

“I asked first. You can’t answer a question with another question.” You smiled in amusement, watching as he sat up on his stool. He looked at your face, and stayed silence for a few seconds. It was as if he was taking you in, deciding whether or not he wanted to have this conversation with you.

“Apartment felt crowded. Got too far out before I realised it was raining.”

“Wow. Must’ve been really deep in your thoughts if you didn’t notice yourself getting drenched.”

He shrugged and took another sip of his coffee, eyes wandering to the side. Taking in the empty tables that were scattered along the place. The café was small, so there where only three tables along with the six stools that were placed in a row along the counter. Plants covered most of the place, and if you paid close attention you could smell the fresh and somewhat sweet scent they gave off. He changed the subject.

“I am curious though. I’ve never seen small cafés like this open so late.”

“You’d be surprised at the amount of people that stop by. Some people just need an escape late at night that sleep can’t give them.” The corners of his mouth turned up at this, almost like he knew exactly what you were talking about. “And students. Sleep deprived students that leave their assignments to the last minute sure do keep the business alive.”

He let out a chuckle at this comment, and for a second your breath got caught on your throat. There was no denying this man was extremely handsome, and something about his laugh gave you a weird feeling at the pit of your stomach.

“Late Night Café. It’s a fitting name.”

“Funny enough there were no night shifts when we started. Figured we should stay true to the name though, and here we are.”

It seemed like the rain was slowly starting to cease now. The loud noise of the water hitting the window glass was slowing down, and the streets were starting to look clearer now that the rain was not constantly washing down the glass.

“You’re in luck, it looks like the rain is starting to slow down.” You nodded to the glass and he turned his head, taking in the way the once pouring water turned into water droplets that slid down it. He let out a hum in response.

Now that the rain had slowed down, a couple other customers appeared through the door, bell chiming each time they walked through the door. You could see him taking in the people that came through, listening to their orders and watching as you moved around getting the orders ready. He had asked for a refill in the middle of this, and you smiled as you poured more hot coffee into his empty mug. As much as you liked the empty nights, there was something about serving the people that came through that made you feel peaceful. It was like second nature to you.

“You really seem to be in your element.” He spoke again as you cleaned the mug of a customer that had just left, and you smiled in content.

“Been doing this for a long time now.”

You took in his state now, noticing how his hair was completely dry now and his leather jacket no longer had water droplets sliding off it. He seemed to be less alert now too, maybe because he had taken in the whole café now. As you went to set down the mug you just cleaned he looked at the clock, noticing it was already almost four in the morning. You watched as he stood up from his stool.

“I should probably get going. Thanks for the coffee. And the shelter too.” He placed a twenty-dollar bill on the table besides his coffee mug and gave you a small smile getting ready to leave.

“Woah- wait. Coffee here’s definitely not that expensive. Let me get your change.” You went over to the cash register, but he stopped you.

“Don’t worry about it, keep the change. Consider it an apology for getting the place wet.”

“I can’t let you do that; you didn’t even make a mess-”

“Really it’s okay. I won’t take the change if you give it to me.” He smiled once again, placing his hands on his leather jacket pockets to stop you from trying to place the change in his hands.

“Okay fine – but let me at least give you something for the way back.”

He wanted to say no, but you were adamant on this, so you grabbed one of the savoury pastries that you had on display and placed it on a takeaway bag for him, smiling in achievement when he took the small paper bag. He smiled at you, saying a quick bye as he left through the door, bell chiming and leaving the café feeling more quiet than ever.

You soon realised that you never got his name, and part of you wished that you had asked, even if that was something you never asked to new customers. Besides, who knows if he’ll ever stop bye again. You were grateful for the heavy rain now, and little did you know he was too, because thanks to it he found out about the little café lighting up that dark street of New York.

******

A/N: Hey! I haven't written anything in what feels like years, let alone post anything. I hope yall like this, i might turn it into a series, i'll have to see if inspiration hits. Anyways thanks for reading!

[snelbz]

Spitting Image

Based on the anonymous prompt:  “Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?”

Co-written, as always, with @tacmc​.

Fanfiction Masterlist

My Ask Box

Cassian had been infuriated when he left his flat, but as he sat in his car outside of Nesta’s house, there was a hollowness settled in the pit of his stomach.

He hadn’t been back in Velaris for long. He hadn’t expected to be back so soon, but he missed his family too much to stay in the north forever. After their constant begging, and after he’d gotten his college diploma, he was packing up and moving back to the city of starlight.

Where she was.

He’d been avoiding her so far, hadn’t seen her once in the month he’d been home.

Until he found out.

Then he was going to confront her, going to pound on her door and demand how she couldn’t have told him. He was going to yell, was going to look her in the eye for the first time in years and demand answers she’d never given him.

Nothing came to him, though, as he sat in his car, staring at her front door.

None of it made any sense. It made as little now as it had then, when a single text message had shredded his heart, and sitting here, staring at the unfamiliar house, Cassian felt all those old wounds reopening.

With a weary sigh, he let his forehead fall against the steering wheel and he closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure how they had ended up here, how any of this had happened, but he knew exactly what day everything had changed.

Just like everything else in his life, Cassian had gotten his information to Adriata’s head coach just days before the deadline, going back and forth on the decision of whether or not he should pursue his dream. Summer training was slated to start the following Monday and when his phone rang, he never expected it to be Tarquin Hadrian himself.

He’d immediately texted Nesta, telling her he had good news and that he was on his way to see her. He had to get packed. He was leaving for Adriata tonight.

She texted back and told him she had news, too, but he was so excited, he didn’t even think to ask what it was. He knew she’d tell him as soon as he got there.

But she hadn’t, because Cassian had gone first.

He’d told her about the scholarship, told him his education was paid for at one of the best universities in the country. He’d told her that he would be playing football, starting as a freshman.

Then she’d told him she was proud of him, told him how amazing it all was. Cassian was so hyped up that he forgot to ask what her news was.

She broke up with him soon after, because he would be too far away, and long distance was too hard. Cassian had left, and never heard from Nesta Archeron again.

Now, he would.

As soon as he got the nerve to get out of his car.

He looked at the clock on the dash. 

He’d been there for nearly half an hour.

It was time.

Cassian closed his eyes and took a deep breath before throwing open his door and getting out.

He was sure she had to know he was back. He’d been to dinner with Elain and Azriel the night before. They’d firmly avoided the topic of the eldest Archeron sister, just as every conversation had since he’d arrived back in Velaris. Just as he’d been doing to the woman herself.

As he walked up the cobblestone path to the door, he was struck by just how much the home looked like it was made for Nesta. It was older, but you’d never be able to tell. Not with the glossy, navy shutters and the cheery garden out front. He was sure that was courtesy of Elain, rather than Nesta.

When he lifted his hand to knock, all of the anger that had built and built in him fell away and he felt a pang of nerves growing in his gut.

Five years.

It had been five years since he’d seen Nesta Archeron. Five years of wondering how she was, what she was doing, who she was with.

With a final deep breath, he knocked on the door. Cassian wasn’t sure what he was expecting when the door opened, but it sure as shit wasn’t Tomas fucking Mandray.

Cassian froze.

As did Tomas.

“The fuck are you doing here?” Tomas asked, which Cassian thought was funny, because he was just about to ask Tomas the same question.

“I need to talk to Nesta,” he said, evenly.

“Too bad,” he replied, leaning against the door frame. “She’s unavailable.”

Cassian rolled his eyes and said, “Cut the cheeky bullshit. I need to talk to her and it’s important.”

Nothing in his life had ever been this important. Not even the championship games he’d had the honor of playing in…and winning. And he knew nothing would ever be as important again.

“You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve,” Tomas said, stepping out and getting eye to eye with Cassian. He hadn’t remembered being taller than the man, but he felt a small bit of pride as he had to look up at him. “Coming back after all these years, trying to come in like you still have a claim on her.”

Cassian had to take a moment to catch his breath, to remind himself that causing a scene, that kicking Tomas’ ass, would do no good. 

“Go get Nesta,” Cassian said, simply, calmly. “I’m not leaving here until I talk to her.”

“Then you’ll be waiting a long ass time,” Tomas said, his voice low. 

“I’ll wait,” he replied.

The two men stared at one another, unblinkingly. 

Her footsteps began creaking down the old wooden stairs behind Tomas, and the moment that Cassian saw her, every thought he’d ever had fell from his mind. It went completely blank, and he suddenly began to panic as every emotion he’d ever had for Nesta flooded the surface. 

Love, lust, complete adoration.

Anger, hatred, complete heartbreak. 

“Who’s here?” Nesta asked, reading a novel as she walked. She always had her nose in a book. 

Tomas lifted his chin. “No one. He was just leaving.”

Nesta looked up then, and on the bottom step, she froze. Her eyes connected with Cassian’s, and her lips fell open. She didn’t move, didn’t breathe, didn’t do a thing.

“Tomas, I think you should head home,” she said, voice so quiet that Cassian was surprised he could hear it.

He turned around, staring at her. “Are you kidding me?”

“Please,” she said. “Go.”

Without another word, he walked towards the back of the house. Nesta was staring at her feet, still not looking at him, but gods, he was staring at her. She was so beautiful, as beautiful the day he’d kissed her goodbye.

He had no idea it would be the last time he’d ever feel her lips on his.

Tomas emerged again, a black backpack slung over his shoulder, keys in his hand. He didn’t look at Nesta, just brushed past Cassian as he left, shoving him with his shoulder.

After a few seconds of silence, Cassian cleared his throat, but Nesta spoke first. “I heard you were back in town.”

“Didn’t try to call though,” Cassian said, the words not as hard as he intended them to be. He stepped through the threshold and closed the door behind him.

Nesta sighed and said, “I’ve been busy. Would you like some coffee?”

So formal. So polite. So unlike the firey girl he’d loved.

“You know, why I’m here, Nes,” he breathed, the familiar nickname falling from his lips. Before she could respond, he added, “Where is he?”

Her eyes fell closed and she rubbed at the spot between her eyes, just like she’d always done when he did something to infuriate her. “At school. It’s noon on a Tuesday.”

Of course he would be at school. Cassian hadn’t even thought about that on his way over. For a moment, he didn’t say a thing. Instead, he waited, waited for her to say something, anything, and when she didn’t, he was shaking his head.

Before he could speak, before he could blow up, Nesta asked, again, “Coffee?”

“I don’t want coffee,” Cassian said, quietly.

“You used to love coffee,” she pressed.

“I still do, I don’t want any right now.”

“Let me get you some coffee.” She was walking away before he could protest, yet again.

He wasn’t sure what to do, so he followed her down the hall, into the kitchen.

She was fixing a pot of coffee, refusing to meet his eyes still. 

“Nesta-.”

“How have you been?” she asked, the question rushing out of her as she pressed start on the coffee maker. 

“How have I been?” he repeated, exasperated.

“Yes, Cassian,” she said, pulling two mugs out of the cabinet and proceeding to dump two very healthy spoons of sugar into one of them and a normal amount into the other. “I haven’t talked to you in five years, I’d like to know how you’ve been.”

He blinked, not only at the fact that she still remembered exactly how to make his coffee, but as the genuine sincerity in her words. “What is this?” He asked, shaking his head. “I don’t understand what’s happening here?”

The pot gurgled as it finished brewing and Nesta pulled the carafe from its base and poured the coffee into the mugs. She picked them up and carefully carried them to the island where Cassian was leaning on his palms. “It’s two old friends catching up.”

The cold laugh left him before he could even think to stop it. “Old friends? Old friends? At least have the decency to call me your ex, Nes.”

She was so calm, as if she’d been expecting this reaction. As if she’d been preparing for this for nearly five years.

“Were we not friends?” she asked, sliding a mug across the island to him.

Cassian stared at her. He opened his mouth, but it soon fell shut, yet again. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t let you in to fight, Cass,” she said, quietly.

Cass.

His old nickname. She used to say it longing, lovingly. Now, it just seemed like an annoyance. 

“I’m not here to fight,” Cassian said, quietly, putting his hand around the mug. “I’m here for answers.” 

“I want to know how you’ve been,” Nesta continued, sipping from her steaming mug.

Cassian knew Nesta. He knew her better than most people. He knew that he would not win this argument. “I’ve been good. Living the fucking dream. Played football, got a degree, decided to come back home. And you? How have you been?”

His words were kind enough, but his tone was clipped, rushed, annoyed. He had no interest in small talk.

“Busy,” she admitted. “Got my degree, too, online though. And I started my own business. Interior design.”

Cassian couldn’t stop himself from looking around. The house was decorated impeccably. “Dating Tomas Mandray, I see,” he scoffed.

She almost spewed coffee across the counter, but she pulled herself together just in time. “Absolutely not,” she said, reaching for a paper towel to dab off her mouth. “He works for me, he balances my books.”

Blinking, his mug halfway to his own mouth, Cassian stared at her. And then he started laughing hysterically.

Nesta was staring at him. At first, she seemed concerned, then she was amused. “Does that please you?”

“I just…” he began, his laughter dying down. “I can’t believe I thought he was with you to begin with.” 

Nesta stared at him for a moment, until his laughter became obsolete. “Why did you come here, Cass?”

Cassian’s smile faded before he said, “You know why I’m here, Nesta.” 

She slowly set her mug down on the counter and looked up at him and sighed quietly.

He asked, “Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?”

“Of course not,” she breathed, her eyes sad. “I knew you would eventually, but you were living your dream. I wasn’t going to be the one to take that from you.”

He stared at her, unblinking and absolutely silent. When he spoke, he didn’t recognize his own voice. “Did you really think that I would care about football more than I would care about my own son? More than I cared about you?”

Nesta’s eyes fell closed and she let out a quiet, shuddering breath. “It didn’t matter, I wasn’t going to let you throw away your life-.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make!” He said, surprised by the elevation of his words, how genuinely hurt he was that she took that precious time from him. Time he couldn’t get back.

“Cassian-.” “No,” he said, before she could say anymore. “You should’ve told me.”

Nesta’s lips thinned out. “If I did, you would’ve dropped everything to come back here, and I just couldn’t…”

Cassian waited, and when she didn’t finish, Cassian shook his head. “Of course I would’ve come home. Would that have been so bad?” 

“Yes!” Nesta yelled, eyes wide. “You were living your dream, Cass!” 

“But you were here, having my kid!” he yelled, the words echoing throughout the empty kitchen.

He turned away, beginning to pace. “Is this why you ended it?” He asked, looking over at her. “So you wouldn’t have to visit, so I wouldn’t find out? Or did you dump me and it was just a happy accident?”

“Stop,” Nesta breathed.  

“I don’t wanna fucking stop!” Cassian yelled. “You had my kid, you were pregnant when I left, and you didn’t tell me!”

Nesta closed her eyes.

“I have been gone for five years, and I had no idea that I had a kid here!” Cassian continued, trying to contain himself, but being unable to.

The front door opened and little feet were hurrying down the hardwood floor towards them. “Mama, there’s a huuuuge truck outside! You have to come-.”

A little boy with blue-grey eyes and dark, curly hair froze as he came barreling into the kitchen, a Power Rangers backpack strapped to his back. Nesta glanced over at the clock, not realizing it was time for the bus to already be here. He slowly made his way to the middle of the kitchen, where she still stood, clutching her quickly cooling cup of coffee. “Are you still working, mama?” He quietly asked, looking at Cassian out of the corner of his eye.

It was a wonder Cassian hadn’t fallen to his knees the second he saw him. His eyes may have been the color of Nesta’s, but the shape was familiar in a way Cassian never thought he’d see. His lips were fuller than his own, so much like his mother’s. But the tan skin, the curly hair that was much longer than he was sure Nesta wanted it to be…

It was like looking into the most precious mirror, seeing a different version of himself, that he never knew existed, never knew he needed.  

“Hi, baby,” Nesta said, at last, meeting her son in the middle of the kitchen and wrapping him up in her arms. After giving him a kiss on his forehead, she asked, “Did you have a good day?”

“Yeah!” He replied. “I had art, and gym, and I learned about the letter Q.”

“Q?” Nesta asked, like it was the coolest thing she had ever heard. “That’s awesome, buddy.”

He looked back at Cassian. “Who are you?”

Cassian hadn’t realized he had been staring, hadn’t realized he had been analyzing every inch of the little man, his spitting image before him.

He was frozen, unable to think of his own name.

“Mommy has been doing some work for him for a while. He’s here to see it.”

His eyes flicked to Nesta, at the save she’d made for him, but at the truth of her words.

He cleared his throat and rounded the island, crouching down in front of him. “My name is Cassian.”

Those little eyes scrutinized him, with a look he’d seen from Nesta a thousand times, and he tilted his head to the side. Finally, he narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. His words were clipped. “Rhett.”

Nesta warned, “Everett Gideon.” His eyes turned up to look at his mother and he found her looking back at him, an eyebrow raised. “Manners.”

He stood up a little straighter and when he looked back at Cassian, he could see a familiar spark of mischief in those eyes. “My name is Rhett. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” Cassian said. “I like your name.”

“Thank you,” Rhett said, and turned around to storm out of the room.

Cassian watched him go.

“Hang your backpack up!” Nesta called after him. “And take off your shoes!”

Cassian hardly heard her. His son, Rhett. Five years old and probably full of attitude, considering who he was a biproduct of. He wasn’t sure what to think, wasn’t sure what thought to form.

Cassian looked at the doorway he had hurried out of for a long while. Nesta didn’t press. She simply waited, quietly.

After a moment, he breathed, “He… I…” 

He looked away and cleared his throat and Nesta pretended not to see the shimmering in his hazel eyes.

“I don’t know him… He doesn’t know me…” The words were quiet when he finally spoke. All at once, Nesta realized the anger was gone. What was left was a broken man. A father who wanted to know his son. “He’s five and he doesn’t know me.”

Nesta didn’t say anything, just calmly watched him, listening.

His words were soft, sad, when he said, “Did you not want me to know him?”

“Cassian,” Nesta began, but nothing else came out. She sighed and brushed her hair behind her ear. 

“Did you not want me to know him?” Cassian repeated, his voice catching on the words. 

“You had a dream,” Nesta said, simply. “I wasn’t about to ask you to stay.”

There it was. She’d said it before but it hust clicked in his head what she was saying.

Cassian was taken back. “What?”

She wasn’t even pretending to drink her coffee anymore, standing with her arms crossed, a hip pressed against the counter. She was gazing out the window, a faint smile on her lips. She cleared her throat, but when she finally spoke, Nesta’s voice still sounded tight. “You had the chance to do what you’d always wanted, Cass. You were getting to live out your dreams.” She turned to look at him and her eyes were soft. “I couldn’t take that from you.”

Cassian hesitated, unable to sort out his thoughts. “You… I…” He shook his head and raked a hand through his hair. “You knew you were pregnant before I left? With- With my child? You knew you were pregnant with my child and you let me move across the fucking country?”

“Did you not hear what I just said?” she snapped. 

“Of course, I did,” he breathed. “But I’m having a little bit of trouble understanding.”

Her eyes fluttered shut as she let loose a breath. “Do you know how long I’ve known you, Cass?”

Yes. Years. Nearly their entire lives.

“You always wanted to play football. You love it, and you always have,” she went on. “If I told you I was pregnant, you would’ve stayed, or you would’ve come back.”

“Of course, I would have!” Cassian yelled, meeting her eyes.

Her voice cracked as she said, “I wasn’t going to let you throw your entire life away for me!”

The silence settled in the kitchen and Cassian’s heavy breathing as he calmed himself was the only sound.

“I didn’t keep him from you to hurt you,” she said, at last. “I did it so you could do what you loved. I didn’t want you to resent me one day for losing that chance…”

Nesta didn’t have to say what else she was thinking. Cassian already knew.

Or Rhett.

None of this was his fault, yet his parents were screaming at each other in the kitchen, and there was no way he hadn’t heard.

Cassian let his elbows land on the hard countertop and his face fell into his hands.

“Five years,” he whispered, his voice muffled by his hands. “Five years and I’ve been… Damn it, Nesta.” 

There was no anger in his voice, hardly anything at all in his voice. 

“I already told you-.”

“You should’ve told me,” he interrupted, quietly. “You should’ve told me you were pregnant, should’ve told me he was born. You should’ve told me that he existed, Nesta, I have a son. What does he think of his father? That I don’t care? That I abandoned him? That I was just never around?”  

“No, I-.”

“Has he ever even asked?” Cassian breathed. “I mean… I’ve known about him for less than twenty-four hours, and he’s all I thought about, Nes. And, ultimately… I feel like shit. Five years… For five years, I had a kid out there and I missed it. I missed all of it, missed five years of my kid growing up.”

“But you got to do what you loved,” she said, quietly, looking away from him. “You got to play football. We watched you on TV,” she said, a soft laugh that sounded suspiciously like a sob falling from her lips. “He loves football, too.”

He’d had it, something in him snapped. He rounded the island and took her face into his hands. “I loved you,” he said, “and you making that decision for me, without telling me, I lost precious years with him. Precious years I could have had with you.”

Nesta’s eyes fell shut. No lie had ever hurt as badly as telling Cassian she didn’t want to be with him anymore. It was the hardest thing she’d ever done. Of course, there were times she wished he was there. But knowing he was happy and living the life he’d always dreamed of, especially after his hard life… It had been worth the struggle.

“You couldn’t miss out on it,” Nesta said, quietly, her eyes shut. “I don’t regret it.” 

“I do,” he replied, without any hesitation. “I would’ve come back in a heartbeat, would have been a part of his life, a part of both of your lives, and I would have had no regrets, Nes.”

“Maybe not yet.” She shook her head, her eyes still shut. “But you would have regretted it, eventually.”

Cassian knew Nesta, and he knew that she was adamant, that her mind had been made up long ago. There was nothing he could say that would make her believe that she had made the wrong decision, and he knew when to stop trying.

He didn’t take his hands off her face.

“Why did you tell me you didn’t want to be with me anymore?” He breathed.

She didn’t hesitate. “Because I knew it was the only way you’d let me go.”

He was shaking his head. “Damn it, Nesta, I didn’t want to let you go. I wanted to spend forever with you. I wanted to have a family with you.” He let his forehead fall against hers as his eyes fell shut. “I just... I didn’t know I already had one coming.”

Nesta didn’t say she was sorry.

Cassian knew she wouldn’t, knew she would have stuck by what she had done, whether she was truly sorry or not. 

The hesitation in her eyes told Cassian that she may have thought she was sorry, after all.

“I could live without football, Nes.” Cassian whispered. “I could have done without it. It’s a game-.”

“We were young,” Nesta fought, quietly.

“It’s a fucking game,” he repeated, a little more bite in his voice. “Just a game.”

“That game was your life,” Nesta snapped.

“You were my fucking life,” he hissed.

“I won’t ever apologize for letting you live your dream.”

He asked, “And will you apologize for lying?”

Nesta blinked. “About what?”

His words were hard. “For telling me you didn’t love me.”

Shame flashed in Nesta’s eyes. “Of course I am.”

“And what about now?” He breathed.

“Now?” She asked.

“Are you sorry about it now?” He asked. “Do you still love me?”

The words hung in the air between them.

Nesta’s voice was barely audible when she said, “That’s not a fair question.”

Cassian fought the urge to laugh. What the hell did she know about fair? “Answer the question.” 

“I can’t,” she said, her voice breaking as she shook her head. “I can’t.” 

“Why?” he asked, growing frustrated, and he hated being frustrated, because when he was frustrated he didn’t know how to handle it, not well. “Just answer the question, Nesta. Do you still love me?” 

“I’m not answering that,” she repeated, as a tear slid down her cheek.

“Because I still love you,” Cassian continued, pretending she hadn’t spoken, knowing she was still lying to his face. “I still love you, I have never stopped loving you, Nesta.”

“Cassian, we-.”

“Every year apart, every month, every day, I have always loved you. I’ve tried to get over you, I really have, but I can’t,” he breathed. “It’s always been you, it will always be you.”

She shook her head again, closing her eyes in a pointless attempt to stop the tears that ran down her face.

“If you don’t love me, just tell me.” The words hurt, even as he said them. “I’ll keep my feelings to myself, but I want to be in Rhett’s life. Please.”

The fact that he was putting her feelings before his own, putting Rhett above them… “I love you just as much today as I did the day I sent those damn text messages. I didn’t just break your heart that day,” Nesta breathed, looking up into his hazel eyes. “I broke my own, too.”

Cassian leaned down and pressed his forehead gently against hers. “I have waited years to hear you tell me that you love me,” he whispered. “Years.” 

Nesta let out a slow breath.

Cassian’s lips met hers. 

He wasted no time, didn’t even bother with a warning before he was sliding his tongue along her bottom lip. Nesta melted into him, finding just as much comfort as she always had in his arms.

Her arms wrapped around his neck and Cassian lifted her up, setting her on the counter and standing between her legs. He ran his hands up and down her thighs and let one of his hands thread through her hair, and-.

“Mommy?”

Cassian was jumping back and Nesta was pushing her hair back off of her face and dropping off the counter. “Hey, baby. I thought you were upstairs?”

But Rhett’s little gaze wasn’t on Nesta, it was on Cassian. “Why were you kissing my mommy?”

Even Cassian’s quick wit didn’t have an answer for that. Nesta was beet red so he knew she wasn’t going to be any help. He opened his mouth spew some some bullshit to hopefully chill the anger he could see growing in those little eyes, but he was surging across the kitchen and began battering his tiny fists against his stomach. “You can’t kiss my mommy, she’s waiting for my daddy!”

Cassian hesitated, but didn’t move, nor did he bother to ask the child to stop hitting him in the stomach. In fact, he simply put his hands in his pockets and let Rhett punch him again and again and again.

It reminded Cassian of himself at that age.

“Rhett,” Nesta demanded, now that she had regained her composure. “Stop. Now.” 

He was frowning, but he did just as his mother asked. 

“We do not hit,” Nesta chastised. “Now, apologize.”

Rhett crossed his little arms. “No.”

“It’s okay, he thinks he’s protecting you,” Cassian whispered. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Nesta said, not looking away from her son. “He knows better. Apologize, now.”

“But if you’re kissing him, what about my daddy?” He said, and his little lip was wobbling, but Nesta could tell he was trying his hardest not to cry.

Cassian’s heart broke watching the scene in front of him, watching his son. He wished he could say something, do something. But this wasn’t his call. He hadn’t been here for five years. Rhett had no idea who he was. He looked up at Nesta, seeing the battle she was having within herself.

She’s waiting for my daddy.

He realized what Rhett had said and he blinked once. He was unable to stop the words as he breathed, “You waited for me?”

“Not for you!” Rhett cried again. “For my daddy!”

But for once Nesta didn’t chastise her rambunctious son for screaming in the house. She was too busy looking at Cassian.

“It’s always been you,” she whispered, repeating his earlier words back to him.

Cassian longed to kiss her then, wanted to press his lips urgently against hers, but he didn’t. Instead, he looked down to Rhett. 

“He looks like me,” he whispered, then looked over at Nesta. “Sounds like me.”

“When he’s throwing a fit? Yeah, he does,” Nesta said, quietly, and the smallest of smiles appeared on her lips.

Rhett was still looking at Cassian when he scooted closer to Nesta and wrapped his little arms around her.

Nesta picked her son up, setting him down on the counter where she’d been sitting just a few seconds before. “Mommy’s always told you daddy would come home one day, right?”

He was looking between the two of them, suspiciously. He nodded.

“But that he was busy making sure we’d all have the best lives that we could?”

Another nod.

“Your daddy is finally here, buddy,” she said, softly. She ran a thumb over his cheek. “I didn’t know he was coming-.” A look at Cassian, who at least had the audacity to blush at intruding on her peaceful day and throwing the most amazing wrench into their lives. “But he’s here.”

[chicchanmooshy]

Shades of grey; chapter 10 - Away

trigger warning: angst: despair / frustration / sadness, mention of tcest

Next morning she tried to wake up Raphael. “Come on, wake up. We need to shower and breakfast is almost ready.” She looked at him with some clean clothes in her hands and poked him again, “hey, I'm going now, you coming?”

Raph sighed and turned over, still sleepy. “I'll be out in a minute”, he mumbled.

After showering she walked to the kitchen. “Morning everyone”, she said happily and received a warm greeting.

“Where did you leave Raphael?” Leonardo asked.

“Oh, he probably fell asleep again in my bed. Tried to wake him though. Maybe I should summon him with coffee?” she asked playful.

Leonardo snorted, “That sounds funny. How does that work?”

Donatello looked interested too, and Splinter very amused.

“Uhm, I will start with making a strong scented pot of coffee. Then make a pentacle of coffee beans on the floor, with cups of coffee on all corners. I place the remainder pot coffee in the middle. And then we'll wait for Raphael to wake up by the amazing smell of coffee..”

“Oh wow!” Michaelangelo laughed, “that would be so funny to see! When will you perform that summoning?”

“Hopefully never”, Raphael said. “I'm awake now. Is there still coffee? Or do you need to conjure that too?”

“Yes, there's still some left”, said Donnie and pointed to the coffee maker.

Raphael walked towards Ishtar, took her in a loving embrace and kissed her neck. She moaned, “well good morning Raphael”, and kissed him. “Morning babe”, he said and went to pour himself a cup.

“How did your swimming trip go?” asked Leonardo to both of them.

Ishtar looked at Raphael, unsure if she should start. Raphael winked at her and told Leo about their evening. “We weren't seen by anyone and there were no people on the beach. Ishtar had her dive in terrible cold water and had some trouble with getting warm again. So we took a warm shower when we got home.”

“Yeah, the water was definitely cold. Raphael said 55 degrees Fahrenheit. But Donnie, how cold is that in degrees Celsius? I'm not quite used to the American metric system.”

Donnie thought two seconds and said, “that would be 13 degrees Celsius.”

“Thanks, some day I will learn to convert those numbers myself. But brrrr, that doesn't make it warmer”, she shivered.

“Did your hair get wet by the water?” Leo asked. “If you can avoid that next time, you may get warm sooner, I would think.”

“Yes it did. Thanks for the advise. Next time I wear it up or wear a hat.”

“How was your experience with the cold water? Because, that sounds like very cold water.”

“It was very cold. I only made it on willpower and had to focus on my breathing the whole time. Shut everything out, be one with my body and the water..”

“Almost sounds like a meditation..” Leo said.

“You think?” she asked and Leonardo nodded.

“What would you like for breakfast, Ishtar?” Mickey asked.

“Oh uhm.. gosh, good question. Do you know how to make oatmeal porridge?”

“Say what?! Oatmeal porridge? Never made that one. It sounds so plain..”

Ishtar got up, “here, I'll teach you. I like something warm now. There is also a very tasty overnight variant, but that one is cold.”

'How is she so easy going with everyone?' Leonardo wondered.

While eating her porridge Ishtar focused her attention on Donatello. She had added some spices for taste, cinnamon and cardamom. “Did you get any readings from my T-watch?”

“Yes, it works just fine. Did you know you can also receive messages on it? We can text you when something is going on. And it's pretty accurate with your location, at least if you're above ground.”

“Did you monitor me the whole trip?”

“Most of the time. I watched the screen until you guys were coming home again.”

“I wanted to ask something. I really like it here and you are all so kind and helpful. But.. I'm starting to get bored. I need something to do, something useful, something I can do with my hands. I know you don't have much money, soo... maybe I can help with that? And also, I do like to game, but I'm used to play on a computer. But those cost money...”

“What are the system requirements for that game?” Donnie asked. “I can probably find most things in the garbage dump, Professor might have something. But the rest we have to buy.”

“For minecraft, I thought a processor Core i5, RAM 8 GB and a video card. And a game mouse and a screen... I don't know about the costs, but I guess it will at least be $500. And that's why I thought I need some kind of job..”

“If you can find something to do from our home, yeah sure.” Leonardo said. “We sometimes help fix cars that Casey brings in. Have you ever tinkered with a car?”

“Uh, no, except checking oil levels and changing a car tire.. Who is Casey?”

“Casey is April's husband and a cop.” Leo said. “Have faith Ishtar. You have expressed your wish, now let it go and your answer will come.”

“Oh, you and your universe shit”, Raphael said. “I don't believe in that crap.”

“Raphael, language.” Splinter said.

“Sorry Master Splinter. I'll go do push ups”, he growled a little.

“Don't mind him, Ishtar. He never believed that much in the spiritual world” Leo explained.

“Don't worry about me”, Ishtar said. “Faith is sometimes hard. Especially when you haven't seen any result yet. But I have. Thank you for the reminder.”

“You're welcome.”

“Soo...”, Mickey started. “Ishtar is getting a brand new computer and I get nothing?”

“Ishtar isn't getting anything for free, Mickey” Donnie said. “And she's willing to work for the things she wants. I haven't heard you lately about working for money.”

“Pff, there's no price on being a genius”, Mickey said self-righteous.

They all laughed. “Yeah, that's about right”, Donnie said.

“Okay guys, let's go to the dojo, we have training”, Leo announced.

“Ishtar, would you like to come with me for a talk?” Splinter asked.

“Yes, of course.”

They went to the living room and sat on the couch.

“Do you like living here with us?” Splinter started their conversation.

“Yes, I do.”

“Do you ever wonder if you can mutate back to being a human?”

“Er, I haven't thought about that yet. I'm just starting to get used to my new body. Are there options to change back?”

“You have to ask Donatello. What I would like to know, if there is a possibility, would you take it?”

“I don't know, I have to think about that..” she said unsure.

“Thank you for your honesty. Apart from your wishes to work for money and a computer, is there something else you would want to have?”

“Uh, I would like to work on my physical health, endurance training, add some strength training as well. Initially to improve my health and body, later maybe learning to fight?”

“That sounds like a good plan. You can make a plan with Leonardo. Maybe train at the same time as my sons do. And now a more personal question; what are your intentions with Leonardo? Because, he is the leader of this clan. Having a relationship with him may be a bit different in comparison with his brothers.”

“How so? And, are you asking this question as a Master or a father?”

Splinter smiled. “As a father.”

“Well, to be honest, I don't have a plan. I like all your sons, I would like to get to know them better, also on a deeper level than just sex, no pun intended.”

Splinter chuckled.

“If I were to turn back into a human, I think I still would like to stay. If that's possible of course.”

“I would like that too, but don't worry about it, we don't know that yet. The point I'm trying to make, is.. if you would have a relationship with Leonardo, you need to be strong. Maybe stronger than you already have shown us. On your grumpy day, he came very angry at you and you didn't shrink yourself, you stood your ground. That was a promising sign. You responded in the same energy as he did. If you were to be his woman, or mate, you may need to respond in calm energy. Still standing your ground, but let his energy flow through you to the ground. To be his anchor, his safe harbor, so to speak.”

“Like the saying, behind every strong man, stands a stronger woman?”

“Yes, precisely like that. I quickly recognized your leadership abilities. And I think you have more capabilities in you than you know. What do you think about exploring and discovering those capacities?”

“I think I'm ready for that challenge. What do you have in mind?”

“I've send Leonardo away several years ago, to train to become a better leader. I want to do the same to you. I will open a portal that you yourself must step through and travel to another universe, one unknown to me. You complete your mission there, and when you're done, you can travel back. I will teach you how. It would be best not to think too long on this and travel today. You can bring one bag with you, anything else you need will be provided for in that universe.

I ask this of you because I sense a high spiritual power in you. And in that universe I want you to think on this question as well. There may come a time when I'm not around anymore. This clan needs a spiritual leader, would you like to become that leader? Standing next to the clan leader?”

“Wow, you must have very much faith in me to ask this. I'm honored. And yes, I will consider it on my trip.”

“The brothers may not like my decision. Don't talk about it, just make your things ready, I'll do the talking. You leave after lunch, a short goodbye is allowed.”

Ishtar bowed and got up to get her things.

During lunch Ishtar was quiet and a bit absentminded. Leonardo asked if she was feeling alright. She considered using an excuse, like 'I'm just tired from my swimming trip', but thought better of it. Leonardo would sense the deceit, so she just said, “I'm okay, just not ready to talk about this.”

After lunch Master Splinter gathered everyone and told his decision to send Ishtar on a mission to explore and discover her still hidden abilities. The brothers protested wild and loud.

“What?! You can't send her away, she just got here!”

“No way! That's just cruel, she hasn't had any combat training yet!”

“Are ya trying to punish us by sending her away?! Whatever I've done wrong, I can fix this!”

“What?! No! You cannot send her away, we need her!”

Ishtar waited until they were quiet again. “I have full faith in Master Splinter that he won't send me into danger. And one only gets so much as she can handle.”

“When will you be back?” asked Raphael, Donatello and Michaelangelo at the same time. Leonardo kept silent. Thinking about his own mission, which took him almost a year to complete. Fearing Ishtar's trip would also take that much time, he really didn't like Splinter sending her away like this.

“I'll come back when I'm ready, that is something you cannot measure in time. But I will miss you guys.”

She hugged each brother and kissed them. She hugged Leonardo a little longer, looked him deep in his eyes and kissed him long and passionately. “Something to remember me by until I get back.”

“I need you”, Leo said longingly and desperate.

“I know. That's why this mission is needed.” She kissed him again and stepped through the portal.

The moment the portal closed behind Ishtar, all hell broke loose. The whole team turned as one to Master Splinter. All kinds of emotions were present: anger, despair, sadness, abandonment..

“Why did you do this father?” Leonardo yelled angry.

Master Splinter held his hand up, “that is for you to find out, Leonardo.”

Leonardo gave a frustrated cry and walked away, furious. The three other brothers looked to each other for support. They have had this traumatic experience before, when it was Leonardo. And they got through it by sticking together. But they were still disordered now.

“Should we go and check on Leo?” Donnie asked.

“We have to help him get through this, in any way possible. He is not familiar with this, but we are. But for now it's better to let him blow off steam first”, suggested Raphael. They all agreed and went to their daily business.

Leonardo walked to his room and slammed the door. He was furious, angry and frustrated. He didn't understand the reasons Master Splinter had, whatever they were. HE was clan leader, not somebody else. But sending someone on this kind of missions was a part of leadership. Did Splinter wanted for Ishtar to become his second in command? That wasn't logical! Raphael was his second and he trusted Raph with his life. But what than? And why? Finally he noticed his whole body was shaking. 'What is happening to me?' he asked himself. 'This isn't normal. Does her presence have so much effect on me?'

Leonardo sighed. He missed Ishtar already. She only had been with them for a short amount of time, what was it, just one month. And she had already made such a big difference in their lives, his life..

He felt himself thrown off balance, falling in a downward spiral. Unfamiliar with the symptoms he sank further into self-pity. He didn't even think about meditating, to get his emotions under control. Instead he turned on the radio to have something else on his mind. But as it often turns out in these situations, the radio didn't have positive music either.

Coldplay – The hardest part

And the hardest part was letting go, not taking part

was the hardest part

And the strangest thing was waiting for that bell to ring

it was the strangest start

I could feel it go down

Bittersweet, I could taste in my mouth

Silver lining the cloud

Oh and I

I wish that I could work it out

And the hardest part was letting go, not taking part

you really broke my heart

And I tried to sing but I couldn't think of anything

and that was the hardest part

I could feel it go down

you left the sweetest taste in my mouth

You're a silver lining the clouds

Oh and I

Oh and I

I wonder what it's all about

I wonder what it's all about

Everything I know is wrong

everything I do, it's just comes undone

And everything is torn apart

Oh and it's the hardest part

That's the hardest part

Yeah it's the hardest part

That's the hardest part

He sat against his bed, legs pulled up and arms around his knees. His chin rested on his arms, drowning himself in self pity. 'Ishtar would sing this song so beautiful', he thought. Missing her so much, it hurt him to think about her. A tear rolled down his face, but he didn't feel it. He didn't came out of his room for dinner, he just sat there, all night long...

He didn't come out his room for breakfast either.

“Oh, for crying out loud, this gotta stop!” said Raphael. “What's he doing in there? Trying to meditate the whole time until Ishtar gets back? We don't even know when that will be!”

“Leo doesn't have experience on this side of the situation. We did, remember?” Donatello said. “This is the moment to pull him out of it, to get back into our routine.”

“Yes Donatello, it is. And how will you do that?” asked Master Splinter.

“Er, I don't know. First find out where he is, in his mind. Once I know, I hopefully can take actions.”

“Proceed”, Splinter said and made a hand gesture to leave the kitchen.

Donatello walked to Leonardo's room, knocked on the door, but didn't get a response from Leo. He did hear a song on his radio. Carefully opening the door he saw Leonardo sitting on the ground, still in the same position Leo was sitting for hours. Leo didn't look up, he only listened to that radio.

Lewis Capaldi – Someone you loved

I'm going under and this time I fear

there's no one to save me

This all or nothing really got

a way of driving me crazy

I need somebody to heal, somebody to know

somebody to have, somebody to hold

It's easy to say, but it's never the same

I guess I kinda liked the way you numbed all the pain

Now the day bleeds, into nightfall

and you're not here, to get me through it all

I let my guard down and then you pulled the rug

I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved

I'm going under and this time I fear there's no one to turn to

this all or nothing way of loving got me sleeping without you

Now I need somebody to know, somebody to heal

somebody to have, just to know how it feels

It's easy to say, but it's never the same

I guess I kinda liked the way you helped me escape

Now the day bleeds, into nightfall

and you're not here, to get me through it all

I let my guard down and then you pulled the rug

I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved

And I tend to close my eyes

when it hurts sometimes

I fall into your arms

I'll be safe in your sound

'til I come back around

For now the day bleeds, into nightfall

and you're not here, to get me through it all

I let my guard down and then you pulled the rug

I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved..

'Okay, this looks bad', Donnie thought. He had never seen Leonardo in this state of mind. “Leo”, he said. Leonardo didn't respond.

“Leo, can you at least acknowledge that you hear me?” Donnie said concerned.

“I can hear you, Donnie.”

“Is there anything we can help with?”

“No, I have to figure this out myself. Thank you Donnie.”

“Okay, we will give you that space. But you need to keep your strength up, so, please follow me to the kitchen, you must eat.” Donatello commanded. He took the health care of his family very serious. So there was no arguing about this. Leonardo knew that too. No point in being pigheaded now. If he just stayed here, his brothers would drag him out and force feed him. So he got up and followed Donatello to the kitchen. Master Splinter had made tea and Michaelangelo had made some toast with jam.

“I know ya hate the situation right now, Leo. We all do. But we need our leader. Are you able to train us, or should I take over today?” Raph asked.

That comment landed Leonardo back into reality. Snapping his head up to face Raph, he said, “no, I can train you guys, no problem”, and started eating.

Master Splinter nodded his approval to his other sons.

The days that followed were fairly normal, only a bit more gloomy.

-----

When the portal closed behind Ishtar, she found herself standing on the edge of what appeared to be a large festival site. It was broad daylight in the middle of a autumn forest. The scent of decay in the forest reminded her of good times. While she inhaled that nice smell she was greeted by a woman, a mutant cheetah.

“Welcome beautiful woman”, the cheetah said. “Let me find you on the list. Oh, there you are. You are a Siren, right?”

'They are expecting me? What do they know that I don't?' “Uhm, I've been called that before, yes. My name is Ishtar.”

“Yes, welcome Ishtar. My name is Judith. Today we welcome the new volunteers. Do you know already in which team you are placed?”

“No, I do not. This is all very new to me. I've never been here, where ever this is.”

“Oh, don't worry about that. You'll fit right in. You will be one of our first responders. Now, walk down this path, first path on the left will lead to our sleeping area, field six. Pick any unoccupied tent you like. Lunch will be on field one and there you will receive all the information and instructions you need.”

Walking down the path, Ishtar found a comfortable tent, met many women - all mutants - and had a delicious lunch. She learned this was a women's only festival, to learn more about your feminine powers. In addition to the work that had to be done by the volunteers, they had also a lot of free time. And in that free time they could join in in the workshops, rituals, enjoy the market or just take some time for yourself. Ishtar got the morning shifts, with the exception of a few evenings. At those times extra assistance was needed, such as with the Fire Walk.

Ishtar had a great time in this big tripe of sacred sisterhood. She learned much about herself and made many friends.  Many nights she could be found dancing and singing. But she also learned useful skills, such as silent walking. It was autumn, and to walk quietly in a forest where the leaves were already falling, was quite a challenge.

It took more time to find an answer to the questions Master Splinter asked. She took every day some time to think about it.

Does she wanted to be turned back into a human if it were possible? Probably not, because I cannot return to my own dimension. And do I want to be the spiritual leader of the clan? That would mean I have to become a member of the clan. If I would, I must bear the responsibilities as well..

So the question would be, do I want to stay with them forever? And without that answer, I cannot go back yet..

Meanwhile in the lair:

“Okay Leo, enough is enough. What's on your mind? We're not used to see you this down. Spill it!” said Raphael after one week.

“No, I am clan leader and I bear the responsibilities and the burdens. This is something I have to find out myself”, said Leo pigheaded.

“The hell with that!” Raph growled. “You may be leader, but we're a team and your family as well.”

“Yes Leo”, Donatello said who came to stand next to him. “We may not be able to help you share the burdens. But talking about it could help. So out with it!”

Leonardo sighed and surrendered his resistance. “I don't understand the reason why father has send Ishtar away.”

“Does it matter?” asked Michaelangelo. “Because she will come back. That's what she said to you.”

“Yes she did, but we don't know when”, said Donnie.

“The thing with this kind of missions and what I like to know, is, it's only done by someone who has to take on a leadership role. So, which part of leadership should Ishtar take on? Because I'm already clan leader. Ishtar cannot fight yet, and she's no ninja. She won't be my second in command, that's Raphael's job. So, why is she send away?”

“In order to know that, stick to the facts. Which qualities does Ishtar have?” asked Donatello.

“She's caring and loving”, Mickey started.

“She's smart and has a good sense of humor”, Donnie added.

“She's warm and passionate and very stubborn”, Raph chuckled.

“And she is spiritual..” Leo said and it dawned on him. “Master Splinter is grooming her to become our spiritual leader..”

“Huh, I always thought you would take that role as well”, said Mickey.

“No, a few years ago I had a talk about that with father, and we decided then that I'm not fit for that. Besides, even I do need someone to consult with sometimes”, Leo shrugged.

“So, Sensei has finally found a suitable candidate for that”, Raph said.

“Apparently. But what does she has to learn on that mission? I think she's already amazing. And remember that first night, Leo?” Mickey said. “You were startled by her blood and she had a calming effect on you.”

“Yes, I remember. It felt good to have someone who can calm me down. First time for everything, right?”

“By the way guys”, Mickey said, “do you know she's a witch?”

“Yes Mickey, we know. On the beach she performed a spell to the dark moon. At the end she asked for a sign and there was a shooting star. I thought that would frighten me. But the way she did it, was nice, soothing even”, Raph said with dreamy eyes.

“I have a theory”, said Donnie. “When you came back from your mission, you were mentally a lot stronger. Ishtar may come back stronger too. Strong enough to stand her ground beside you, Leo. Ever heard of the saying 'behind every strong man stands a stronger woman'?”

Leo nodded. “Yes, I understand your point now.”

They were silent for a while.

“I still miss her”, Leo said.

“Gosh yeah, we all do!” said Raph.

“Hey Raph”, Mickey asked, “what did you do to her that night?”

“None of your business, goofball!”

“Ahh, come on Raphie, won't you share something?”

“Only that you have serious competition now, she's great at giving head. Might even be better than ya”, Raph grinned. 'Damn, when are we gonna have a five-some with her?' “Why haven't ya made a move on her yet, Leo?”

“Because I want to take it slow with her.”

“Good luck with that”, Mickey chuckled. “Once she set her mind on you, it won't be long before you lie in bed with her. And how are you able to fight your animal instincts? I know I can't.”

“You all know I have great control over my body. I will set boundaries for each moment I'm together with her. And she has to respect that.”

“Ya sure about that? She may be open for reason, but I don't think she can be tamed. She has a mind of her own. Besides, I love the way she can act crazy. Sometimes it borders on being insane..”

Leonardo smiled, “yeah, I like that too about her. Thank you guys, for this talk. I see now I really needed it. I have one request left.”

“Name it”, Raph said.

“A nest together this night. Mainly for comfort, but I don't mind sex. It's been a while for me.”

“Will do Leo”, Donnie said.

[zaharadessert]

The Roommate (5/11)

Summary: Two pacts between friends, one Wedding, a change of plans and a Best Man who is not what Emma was expecting.

In other words, what happens when you make a marriage pact with your roommate, and he falls in love with your best friend when she brings over the wedding dress you bought together nearly ten years ago.

Rating: Mature (things do get saucy)

Notes: Huge huge thank you to @motherkatereloyshipper​ for the prompt for this fic. We ended up with a more cake situation, and this is the link to her fic… Another thank you to @ultraluckycatnd​ for being my beta once again, you do such an amazing job and I am forever grateful! Without you my commas would be so all over the place it isn't even funny! All art by me! I tried to keep it fluffy but I'm unable to contain the angst... sorry?

Tagging: @jrob64​ @xhookswenchx​ @kmomof4​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​ @superchocovian​ @lfh1226-linda​ @teamhook​ @jonesfandomfanatic​ @tiganasummertree​ @onceratheart18​ @snowbellewells​ @karlyfr13s​ @itsfabianadocarmo​ @ouatpost​ @winterbaby89​ @thepirateandhisson​ @xarandomdreamx​ @xsajx​

As always, let me know if you’d like me to add you to my taglist for future fics :)

Also on AO3

- - - - -

Liam had left before Emma got up the next morning too. She didn’t blame him. As much as with every step forward they’d taken, Emma had felt like nothing had changed, there was no denying that now, with last night’s leap back, something had. Emma may have done what she’d done for him, but it was more than clear that Liam had intended to go through with the wedding despite the immediacy and intensity of his feelings for Elsa, and he was going to need time to work through that. Emma didn’t quite have that luxury, though.

At least Liam had made sure the coffee maker was set before he left and with a smile, Emma poured herself a cup of coffee, spooning sugar in and giving it a stir. She called in sick at work, because she had a lot of calls to make, and she needed to just get on and get it done. She heard Elsa in the bathroom and poured her friend a coffee, adding cream and setting it on the side while she waited for her friend.

She didn’t want to eat anything until she was done with this conversation, she couldn’t face it. But if she could talk to Liam, and she could talk to Elsa and make them understand, then she would be ready to face her mother. Or at least call her.

“Hey,” she said with a soft smile as her friend walked in.

Elsa froze and blushed, her gaze dropping immediately to the floor.

“It’s okay, Elsa, I gave Liam the ring back last night,” she said, sliding the coffee along the counter towards her friend.

“What?” Elsa whispered in shock, wide eyes lifting off the floor to stare at Emma.

“He has never looked at me the way he looked at you when he first saw you. He knew in that moment that he was marrying the wrong woman, but because he’s stubborn and he made me a promise, he wasn’t going to do anything about it. I reminded him of the first promise he made me. We made one of those stupid ‘if neither of us are married by a certain time pacts’, and when I looked at the two of you, I realised… Liam and I were never meant to be together,” she said with a sad smile.

“Emma…” Elsa said, her voice tight with emotion.

“We were never in love,” Emma insisted, talking over the top of her. “You two could be, you could make him far happier than I ever could.” Tears were welling in her eyes now. “He’s an amazing guy, but he’s not the guy for me. I’m not supposed to wear that dress first, Elsa.”

Elsa’s eyes too were swimming with tears now, but there was that same spark of hope in her gaze as she looked at Emma that Liam had last night. Elsa took her time as she surveyed her, really looked, and Emma was almost cringing under the scrutiny.

“I thought I was going crazy, I… I felt like I’d been hit by lightning in a good way. I couldn’t move, I…”

Everything Elsa was describing, Emma had never felt.

“I know, I saw,” she said with a small smile.

“I never meant for… I am so sorry Emma,” Elsa insisted.

Emma almost rolled her eyes.

“You can’t help the way you feel Elsa, that’s ridiculous. I’m happy that you’re going to be happy.”

“Really?” she asked, looking unsure.

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll make you a deal,” Emma said with a grin, the idea coming suddenly and hitting her with such surprising force she wondered why she hadn’t thought of it before.

“What deal?”

Emma could have laughed at the expression on her face but shook her head instead.

“Stop worrying, it's just that I’ve got a hell of a lot of non-refundable deposits that I think you should use.” She wasn’t grinning quite so widely now, having taken on a more serious tone to make sure the other blonde knew she was being serious.

“Emma, I’ve already stolen your fiancé, I can’t steal your wedding too!” Elsa exclaimed, clearly horrified at the idea.

“You can’t steal what was never really mine,” she replied with a shrug. “We never even had sex, Elsa…”

“You didn’t? What is wrong with you, he’s gorgeous!” Clearly, she didn’t think before she opened her mouth because the next thing Emma saw was Elsa’s eyes widening as she covered her hand with her mouth.

There was already an apology on her friend’s lips as Emma started to laugh. It started off as a snort, and then built into a full blown belly laugh. Even as she laughed, she watched as Elsa’s shoulders relaxed again and a shy smile crept onto her lips before she too started to laugh.

After a long moment, the laughter faded and Emma set her coffee down to pull her best friend into a hug. Elsa’s arms tightened around her, and Emma closed her eyes for a moment as relief settled firmly in her gut. It was this relief that really cemented that she’d made the right choice.

“Nothing would make me happier, than to see the two of you happy together,” she said as she pulled back from the hug and picked up her coffee. “Knowing that you both were willing to push what you felt aside for me means so much. But I can’t get in the way of what I think you guys could have.”

“You are the kindest, and most selfless person I have ever met,” Elsa told her, tears in her eyes and her voice full of emotion.

“No, I’m not,” Emma deflected.

“Your levels of self-deprecation never cease to amaze me.” Elsa rolled her eyes and smiled as she wiped the tears off her cheeks.

Where Emma had felt resolved and resolute last night, this morning she felt relieved and almost happy. If Liam got off his arse, they didn’t need to waste any money. They hadn’t sent out any invites yet, and they had time to change the wedding colours and now Emma and Elsa would trawl through thrift shops looking for a Maid of Honor outfit for Emma instead. It was all going to be fine.

Now Emma just had to call her mother.

As it turned out, calling her mother was not the battle she’d expected. Once she’d explained exactly what had happened, how she and Liam had never really even dated and they just wanted to give each other some stability and companionship, but when he’d had a chance at love Emma wouldn’t stand in the way… she’d understood. She’d been comforting and expressed her concern for her daughter and wanted to make sure she was really okay with what was happening, but she was supportive.

For maybe the first time in a long time, Emma felt like her mother got what she’d done and had approved of her decision.

Liam, it transpired, was perfectly happy to not lose all their deposits and simply amend the bride’s name on the wedding invitation. It did sting, and Emma knew it was going to take a long time to really be truly okay with this; that was why her walls were going back up and she was pushing it aside, but she was happy for them. She’d brought them together and how could she want anything but for her friends to be truly happy?

It was relatively easy to get everything rearranged, and within a few weeks everything was as ready as it could be for Liam and Elsa’s wedding. They’d sent out wedding invitations as soon as Emma and Liam were done telling people about the change of plans, Liam had moved into Elsa’s room with her, and Emma was in the process of helping the bride adjust their dress on their days off.

It seemed everything was going fine when Emma happened to come home from work early one day about two months before the wedding and heard Liam’s raised voice from Elsa’s bedroom.

“No Killian, I don’t think I’m making a mistake!”

Emma paused, and dread settled in her gut. She had a lot of opinions about Liam’s brother, one of which being that he wasn’t a very good one, so it was unsurprising that he wasn’t being very supportive about the change of plans.

“I don’t need you to lecture me, little brother. I know what I’m doing and whether you like it or not, I love Elsa, and Emma has given us her blessing. So as far as I’m concerned, you can either lump it, or I’ll find myself another best man!”

Emma’s eyes widened and she moved down the short corridor into her own room to change before starting on dinner. Elsa was in meetings all day and wouldn’t be back until later.

“You WHAT?!!?” Liam practically screamed from inside their room and Emma found herself flinching.

The argument faded into a rumble as Emma tried to block it out, but as she went about her business she started to worry that Liam hadn’t come out of the bedroom over half an hour after she’d stopped hearing him talking. Steeling herself to deal with whatever this was, she’d sort of appointed herself as a pseudo Best Man in addition to her Maid of Honor duties in Liam’s brother’s absence, she made them both hot chocolate and went and knocked on the bedroom door.

“Liam? I made hot chocolate… Did you want to talk about it?”

The bedroom door opened, and Emma knew her face was showing him everything that was going through her mind. Liam’s eyes were red rimmed and she knew he was trying not to cry. She could also see the fury in the set of his shoulders and the defeat in the curve of his spine.

“I didn’t think he’d react like that…” Liam confessed quietly as he took the hot chocolate Emma handed him and followed her into the lounge. “He’s convinced that something else went on for you to call it off, that I cheated or something, and that you can’t be okay with this. Hell it took me ten minutes to get him to understand that you’d told me to go for it with Elsa.”

Emma smiled sadly and placed a hand on Liam’s knee. He flashed her a brief and slight smile.

“He says that there’s no way Elsa could be a good friend if she’d do this to you and he doesn’t want to call that kind of person his sister-in-law. It’s one thing to follow your heart, but it’s something else to stab your best friend in the back like that…” He snorted derisively and shook his head before taking a sip of his hot chocolate.

“We know the truth, Liam. If he’s got such a problem with it, then why is he still your best man?”

Liam took a deep breath then and glanced across at Emma.

“He didn’t exactly approve of the wedding before I switched brides,” he confessed.

Emma’s mouth fell open in shock.

“This is bigger than me or Elsa, Liam, it has to be…”

“Aye, it is,” Liam agreed and Emma tilted her head curiously.

“Killian’s naval career hasn’t been the success he led me to believe,” he said heavily.

Emma’s eyes widened and she waited for him to continue.

“Turns out he was sleeping with a superior officer who was using her maiden name for work. The admiral she was still married to didn’t take kindly to finding his wife in bed with ‘yet another man’. Killian had no idea, but he’s lucky he didn’t get dishonourably discharged from what I can tell. He moved to a different base and she’s still trying to get under his skin… He’s been passed over for more than one promotion because of it, and he’s… angry about everything… It’s nothing to do with either of you. This is his problem but…”

“He lied to you…” Emma supplied without needing to hear it.

Liam nodded and looked out the window.

Emma took a deep breath and even knowing Killian hadn’t approved of her either, she did feel somewhat comforted by someone who didn’t really know her being so indignant on her behalf.

“I get what he’s saying, and if you had cheated on me you can bet your last dollar I would be some kind of Valkyrie right now… I’d probably have thrown all your stuff out of the window and that’s just to start,” she said with an amused smile.

“Oh I know, I never would have done that to you, Emma,” he said vehemently.

“I know that, and that’s why I did the right thing… but talking to you… getting you to listen isn’t always easy,” she reasoned carefully as he dropped his gaze down to the still steaming mug. “You’ve always been so proud of him, and even though I thought he was a kind of shitty brother at times… Can you imagine being him, telling you he’s just made the biggest mistake of his life, and his career that you were so proud of him for is in tatters?”

Liam’s whole body stilled and slowly his gaze moved to meet hers. Realisation flickered in his eyes.

“You raised the bar so high, without even meaning to, and he didn’t know how to tell you he’d failed to catch it and pull himself over.”

“Gods, I really am an arse,” Liam muttered with a sad shake of his head.

“Yes, but you’re our arse,” Emma said affectionately, putting an arm around his shoulders.

Liam pressed a kiss to the side of her head and then leaned his head on hers.

“Thanks lass,” he said quietly. “For everything…”

“You can fix this, you love each other. Give him a chance, but don’t let him walk all over you,” she decided that he needed a little more pep talk.

“I’ll let him calm down a bit first,” he said with a sigh.

“If he’s anything like you, that’s probably a good idea,” she agreed, lifting her head off his shoulder and taking a sip of her own hot chocolate.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ TEN YEARS ❜

with Ezekiel ‘EZ’ Reyes.

Request: Babe.. I have a thing for married ez 🥺 - "I brought you your coffee" & "I can't believe I got the first date, let alone a year" . Ez and the reader have been married about over 10 years, still fucking in love with each other, married before he went to prison, aka give me all the domestic feels!! Please please xx

BY @ly--canthrope.

Warnings: none.

Word count: about 1k.

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: @angels-reyes

Masterlist.

It's a new day, but waking up again before EZ. His right arm is under your neck, while the left one is surrounding your waist, peacefully breathing behind you with his nose sink into your hair. Every day you fall in love with him a little more, tangling your hands with his and leaving a soft kiss on the ring in his finger. The gold one with the date you two got married, ten years ago. And like every morning, you spend some minutes looking at it before getting up from the bed, without waking him up. Stretching your arms and your tiptoes, you wear one of his shirts, tying your hair in a big bump walking barefoot to the kitchen. While the coffee is getting ready, you look for two mugs, some sugar and two spoons, leaning after over the counter with your cheek over your forearms; watching how the dark liquid falls into the transparent jug. The smell floods the kitchen, giving you some life while you get assorted in your own thoughts.

“I can't do this to you”.

“Ezekiel, I will wait for you all my life. Nothing and no one can separate us”.

This was one of the worst days of your life. Every time you remember him with those handcuffs around his wrists, your heart breaks a little. The soft ‘ding’ of the coffee maker brings you back to your kitchen, shaking your head as soon as you are able to pour the drink on the mugs. Your husband is already awake when you reach the bed, sitting up on it and resting his back against the wall. He has on his face that mind-blowing smile that illuminates the darkest place.

“I brought you your coffee”. You mutter smirking at him, leaving your mug on the nightstand, before sitting on his lap to offer his.

In the mornings, EZ usually wakes up tired, and it's funny how he lets you treat him like a baby just to feel better. You know that everything is going to change when he becomes full patched, but in the meantime, he has to work a lot and there are not enough hours of sleep to recover himself. The younger Reyes holds his drink having a sip while you lean forward, with both hands on the bare chest, to kiss his cheek.

“I love you, Ezekiel”.

The first sip pushes him to reality, placing his mug close to yours, before wrapping you with his arms to roll over your shared bed between some lovely laughs.

“I love you, mi reina”. He replies back, pulling away a fine tuft of hair from your face, catching your lips gently, taking his time like every morning. “I can't believe I got the first date, let alone a year”.

“You deserve everything”. You just say pecking his lips to make him smile again. You can't live without his smile.

“I just want another ten years with you”.

“You sure? That's many mornings having breakfast together”.

“In ten years, I will ask you to drink coffee in bed for another ten years”. He nods pinching your cheeks until you laugh, placing his hands then on your hips. “This is my favorite moment of the day, and it will always be. The silence, the peace, the calm…”

“Enjoy it, mi rey, you're not gonna have it in like… less than seven months”.

Supporting his palms on the sheets to slightly stand up over them, he looks at you somewhat confused and frowning. And you're about to laugh when he kneels on your bed, sitting on his heels. He's more intelligent than anyone you know, but at that point he feels really stupid, trying to connect the dots.

“I don't… get it”. He gulps rubbing the right side of his face with the fingertips.

“Yeah, you're getting it, golden papi...”

“No way…” He mumbles covering his mouth and opening his eyes more than allowed. His dark eyes tour your body, flooding onto your belly covered by his black shirt. “Estás de joda, mami”. (You're kidding).

Silence.

“No way, (Y/N). Don' fucking play with these things”. Ezekiel is looking at you, laughing at him. But not because you're making fun of him, but because it's true. “Wait, wait, wait, wait…”

“No fucking way”. You two say in unison, now, you're laughing because of knowing exactly what he was to say.

“No fucking way, (Y/N)”. His eyes are filled with tears, bowing his head as he rubs them with his thumb and his forefinger.

“Oh, baby…” You say with a honeyed and sweet tone of voice, sitting up to hold him against you.

Your husband breaks into tears with a low cry hugging you too strong, while he realizes that he's going to be a father. While he realizes he's creating a family with you, his best friend, the love of his life, the best person he has ever known. His wife.

“Thank you… thank you, mi amor”. He just says, before cupping your cheeks into his hands to kiss your lips once and again. “For not giving up with me. For believing in my words. For making me a better man. For loving me even when I couldn't love myself. For taking care of me. For not asking anything back, but give me everything you had. For marrying me. For making me happy. For bringing me that coffee every single morning that we are together, because it means a world to me”.

“You deserve everything, Ezekiel”. Repeating again what you have said some minutes ago, the Reyes hugs you tight beginning to leave kisses all around your face.

“I love you so much I can explain it, (Y/N). I swear, mi amor”.

✨ Tag list:

@starrynite7114 ​ @chibsytelford ​ @dazzledamazon ​ @mara-mpou ​ @sammskellington ​ @gemini0410 ​ @1-800-imagines ​ @briana-mishell24 ​@sassymox @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish @rebel-without-cause-x @xx--day-dreamer--xx @spiced-reads @tita127 @ifoundmyhappythought @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @angelxshiba @destynelseclipsa @sheeshgivemeabreak @abbiesthings @knowles-morgan @lady-pswrld @minnicelli @marquelapage @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @jadesamhart @mycupoffanfiction @claytoncardenasbabymama @thesandbeneathmytoes @phoenixhalliwell @thewarriorprincessxo @sugary-x-sweet @multiyfandomgirl40 @imanerdychubbyqueen @iambabyharry

If you want to be tagged, send me a message!

[waywardodysseys]

Eight Days of Christmas - Day 5

I Never Knew the Meaning of Christmas

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x female reader

Warnings: cussing, fluff, naughty innuendos 

Summary: Your ninth Christmas with Ransom Drysdale.

Day 1 / Day 2 / Day 3 / Day 4

(divider by @firefly-graphics)

Pots clang together as you pull a stack of baking trays from a cabinet. You have plenty to help with what you are to accomplish tonight - baking sweet treats with your husband while your three-month-old son, Oliver, watches from the sidelines. 

A loud cry and gurgle make you turn towards your brown-haired, blue-eyed son. He’s sitting in his highchair watching you gather materials. “I’m sorry, Oli. I hate loud noises too.” You walk over and place a kiss on his soft cheek. “Daddy will be home soon.” You move back over to the kitchen island as soft Christmas music floods the kitchen from the Bluetooth speaker on the other side of the room. You grab your list and begin making sure you have all you need as the front door opens and closes.

After hanging up his coat, Ransom wanders into the kitchen. “Whoa! How much are we making this year?” Ransom inquires as he walks in and sees the kitchen island covered with various baking ingredients and supplies, he then places a kiss atop Oliver’s head. He smiles as his son smiles wide and toothless towards his dad. “You’re a lucky fella, Oli. Getting to spend your entire day with momma,” he pauses then mutters under his breath, “when it should be me.”

You shake your head and lightly laugh, “Well at least Christmas break officially begins for you next week. So, I’m sure you’ll get enough time with both Oli and me before you have to return back to work in the new year.”

Ransom walks over and wraps his arms around you. “What you makin’?” He pushes your hair aside and presses his lips against your neck. 

“Cookies and those pecans both of our families love to devour.” You pause. “I gotta make a batch for my office too. Oli and I are going to visit them on Monday.” 

“No pies?”

You spin in his arms and face him. “Last year you,” you pressed a finger against his chest as you emphasized the word, “Mister Drysdale, tried to make a pie and it turned out horrible. And burnt. We’re sticking to cookies and the pecans.”

Ransom laughs, “Not my fault someone was extremely turned on by seeing me cook!” His hands squeeze your hips. “You know how turned on I get just by seeing you. Missus Drysdale.”

You slap Ransom’s chest playfully, “There’s a child present!”

Ransom grins then kisses you softly. He whispers, “It won’t stop you later.” He smiles against your lips when he hears your soft, low moan. He knows he has you wrapped around his finger because he’s wrapped around yours. “And you know I won’t stop you.”

You needed air. Your body’s heated from his words and actions. You step out of his arms and grab a mixing bowl so you may begin. “You’re incorrigible, Ransom.”

He smirks, “Only with you.” His stomach growls loudly then he frowns and looks at the kitchen, “What about dinner?”

“We can order in. I’m not trusting you with cooking anything when I have to bake.”

Ransom shrugs and huffs jokingly, “Okay. Okay.” He smiles then eyes the kitchen island. He rubs his hands together, “Where shall we begin?”

*

A couple of hours later, the entire house is smelling of cinnamon-sugar pecans and sugar cookies. Ransom is nearly covered in flour because it slipped out of his hands when he was trying to open it by ripping it open when you suggested he just cut the top of it off. Of course, he didn't listen, and the bag dropped and burst open. You laughed; glad you had bought extra. Oliver laughed loudly at his father’s accident too. Ransom turns towards his son, “I thought you’d be on my side, Oli!”

Oliver laughs again, kicking out his legs and hands. Ransom chuckles and goes over to his son’s side. “You and I gotta stick together. We gotta keep momma on her toes.”

You look over and see Ransom tracing Oliver’s cheeks with a finger. You smile, knowing he’s already a good father and will continue to be one. “What about making a cake? Think you can do that?” you inquire.

Ransom looks at you, brow raised. “What happened to my wife? She said I wasn’t to make anything,” he stresses that particular word like you had earlier, “while she baked.”

You laugh, “Maybe I want to see my husband doing something in the kitchen. You know give me some, uh, motivation for later?” You look at him with a sly smile then playfully wink.

Ransom stands hurriedly, “Well, if that’s what gets me…” He stops when you give him a glaring look. He shrugs and chuckles, “I don’t think he can understand us, sweetheart.” He points back to Oliver.

“Says you,” you respond as Ransom opens cabinets doors looking for a clean mixing bowl since a few are already in the sink. “Ah! Found one!” he exclaims as he brings it out then places it on the counter. He then shuffles over to the pantry and finds a boxed cake mix. There’s no way he was following a recipe card for a made from scratch cake. Besides, no one really could tell the difference. “Who’s getting this cake?”

You’ve returned your focus to what you were doing a few moments ago. You slice the store-bought rolled sugar cookie dough then place them on baking sheets. You dunk some of the raw cookie dough into a bowl of sprinkles, while others go directly to the baking sheet, they would be decorated with icing after they come out of the oven. “Take it to work. Show people you care.”

Ransom scoffs, “I make sure they get their bonuses, make sure the Christmas party is hosted in some lavish hotel. I do care.” He walks back to your side, sneaks a piece of the raw cookie dough, and scarves it down. “I still don’t get why we have to make goodies. The store sells its own!” he remarks.

“I saw that,” you utter softly. You then counter his remark by stating, “And because it’s the thought that counts Ransom. Have you not learned that yet?”

“I’ve learned it. You’ve taught me well, sweetheart.” He presses a kiss against your cheek. 

“Then I shouldn’t hear any complaining,” you tease before you give him a quick peck on the cheek in return.

Ransom scoffs, “Well, at least the thought counted when I gifted you with a baby last Christmas.”

“Hugh Ransom Drysdale!” you exclaim with a laugh. 

Ransom shrugs and smirks, “What! It’s true!” He begins to gather the ingredients he needs and proceeds to place them all in the bowl, along with the cake mix. “How do I mix this?”

“Seriously, Ransom? The electric mixer is in the pantry. Did you get a pan ready?”

“Knew I was missing something,” Ransom remarks as he heads back to the pantry and grabs the mixer. He searches for a cake pan, greases it then sets it aside. He goes back to where the bowl is the mixer. “Where are the--”

“Utensil drawer,” you answer.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

You hum in response then watch as he has a somewhat difficult time putting the beaters into their designated holes in the mixer. You laugh and begin to say something but are stopped by his words: “Don’t even say it.”

“I don't know what you’re talking about.”

 Ransom rolls his eyes, “Well, you were either going to say something about how I can’t get these things in their holes,” he grimaces realizing what he just said. “Or something even dirtier than that.”

You snort, “I guess you’ll never know.”

Ransom finally gets the beaters in place and turns on the mixer. He realizes he might get batter all over him, so he turns it off then places the mixer into the bowl and turns it on. He proudly smiles to himself as he begins to move the bowl with his hands slowly, like he’d see you do plenty of times, making sure he gets the entire mixture thoroughly mixed together before pouring into the pan. Finally! Something I can do!

“My husband might indeed get lucky tonight,” you state as you take out a baking sheet filled with pecans coated in a cinnamon-sugar concoction. You then place the baking sheet full of uncooked cookies in the oven. 

“You gave me something easy, Y/N.” Ransom retorts.

“I know. I wasn't about to give you something hard to do.”

“I’ll give you something hard later tonight,” Ransom states as he looks at you and wiggles his eyebrows. 

You shake your head and laugh as you begin stirring the pecans. Oliver laughs bubbly as he moves his eyes between his mother and father. You look at your son. “Don’t ever ask your daddy to cook you anything Oli.”

“Hey! I can use the microwave!” Ransom boasts as he finishes mixing the batter. He sets the mixer aside. He absentmindedly reaches for the plug and unplugs it. He then empties the batter into the cake pan and makes sure it evenly spreads out. ‘No one wants an uneven cake’ your words echoing in his head. “May I put this in the oven?”

“Yes.” you reply as you move out of the way.

After Ransom places the pan in the oven and sets a timer, he walks back over to the mixer. He pushes down on the button to release the beaters, but instead he turns it on, and batter begins to fly everywhere. “Fuck! I thought I unplugged this! What the…,” he seethes as he reaches over and finally unplugs the correct cord. He then examines the cord he did unplug, which was to the coffee maker. 

You begin laughing and Oli joins in with his spirited giggles. 

“It’s not funny!” Ransom exclaims as he frustratedly presses the button, takes out the beaters then places them in the sink. “GODdamn it!” He begins mumbling curses under his breath as you and Oli continue with your laughter.

You grab a dish towel and walk over to him. You pull on his sweater to make him look at you. You smile as you wipe away some of the batter on his neck and chin. You see a smear of batter on Ransom’s cheek and you lick it off. You moan, “Tastes good.”

“Hopefully, you’re talking about me,” Ransom pridefully remarks.

“The batter. I already know you taste good.” you state then are enveloped in Ransom’s arms. “You still have batter on your clothes!”

Ransom chuckles, “All the more reason to discard them later!”

You slip out of Ransom’s arms as your timer dings for the cookies. You grab them out of the oven and place the baking sheet on a cooling rack. You watch as Ransom walks over to his son and gets him out of his highchair. Oliver smiles and clings onto Ransom’s sweater as the two men walk over to the stove. 

“Nearly time to put you to bed Oli. Your momma and I have plans.” Ransom happily states as Oli moves his hands against Ransom’s sweater, finding some batter. He looks at it wide eyed. Ransom smiles then takes his own hand and pretends to lick it. “It’s fine. I promise. Probably better than what momma gives you.”

Oli grins from ear to ear as he looks at his dad. He presses his hand to his mouth and wipes his hand all over his face, which causes the batter to smear across Oliver’s face. Ransom chuckles as he finds some paper towels and wipes it all away.

You look at your husband and son. Your heart overflows with emotion as you take them in and take in this moment. You stop what you’re doing, walk over to them, and cup one of Ransom’s cheeks then cup Oliver’s cheek with your other hand. “I love both my boys. Thankful for each of you.” You press a kiss against Ransom’s cheek. You then kiss Oliver’s cheek. “Thankful the love of my life gave me the most beautiful son in the world.” You wouldn’t trade either of them for anyone else. You then burrow into Ransom, wrap an arm around him, and keep a hand against Oliver’s cheek. 

Ransom keeps Oliver glued to one side with one arm while the other snakes around your frame. He presses a kiss to Oliver’s forehead. He then presses a kiss to your temple. “I’m thankful for a loving wife who’s given me the gift of a son and a family. Who’s shown me what Christmas really means.”

A soft melody of music begins to fill the air. Ransom smiles, familiar with the song now playing. How fitting. He hums along with the tune as you and he begin slowly swaying to the music. When the chorus begins, Ransom whispers while looking deep into your eyes, “I never knew the meaning of Christmas until you came into my life.”

You smile in return. Infusing this into your memory bank, knowing eventually Christmas will become Ransom’s favorite holiday, and time of year. 

[twoidiotwriters1]

Déjà Vu (Or are we losing our minds?) -Modern!Shirbert

A/N: That’s right! I’m starting a new (old if you ask the fellas in Ao3 lmao) AWAE series!! I was waiting to have enough chapters and now that day is finally here! I hope you like it -Danny

Words: 3,961

Next Chapter

Chapter One: Make Your Own Decision.

'Two souls don't find each other

                                      by simple accident.'

Gilbert wasn't a morning person.

Medical school was a pain in the ass, he didn't need to say that to anyone– He didn't like to complain at all if he was honest, after all, it was thanks to school that he was going to become a doctor. Still, he missed the lazy mornings on his bed, no worries in the world apart from what his father would make for breakfast.

That was years ago, though. Now he was an adult (or the closest thing to it, anyway) and he had bills to pay, he didn't have to pay rent and that was certainly a good thing, Bash and Mary were a gift sent from heaven after his dad had died, but he still helped around their house, along with the schoolwork he worked on relentlessly while trying to ignore the uncertain future knocking on his door almost every day.

After all the sleepless nights pacing around the kitchen, lights on and coffee maker ready to go, memorizing things and finishing research papers, he's pretty sure this isn't exactly healthy, but if he's bound to have similar routines for the rest of his life, he might as well get used to it.

He tries not to think a lot about that, his future, that is. All around him friends start to settle down, move out to their own places, find love, travel, having adventures while he spends all his weekends locked in his room learning about a new subject that is just as thrilling as any date he could possibly have.

That's a lie, of course. He longs for a break, an excuse to run wild and free just one night.

Luckily for him, that opportunity comes this Friday.

___________________

Anne's in love with the early sunlight, that warm, clear light that slips through her window every morning to announce a new day with no mistakes in it yet was about to start.

She loves the quiet, how time slows down for her while she pours a second cup of tea for her morning readings before heading to school. She loves the muffled noises Diana and Cole make while getting up, letting her know she has to hurry if she wants to start her routine on time.

She's a simple young woman (a very new one at that, if she was honest) and the little things still manage to give her a thrill that parties or any kind of social interaction simply can't.

That's half a truth, of course. She misses the weekly reunions with her Highschool friends, the bike rides with Jerry, her old neighbor, whenever they needed someone to rant about stupid things and none of their friends was around to do so.

Despite all this, she is fine. Anne follows the path to her dream: to become a successful writer for all kinds of people, to tell the stories that people need most at the moments when all hope seems lost and love is scarce.

However, when her Highschool friends text her and Diana about a much-needed reunion, she didn't have to think twice before replying with 'Oh god, YES.'

___________________

The Orchard was fairly known for its homely 'aesthetic' as some would call it, which attracted the younger people that needed a break from their crazy student lives. The diner had originally belonged to Gilbert's dad, but when he passed away, it fell onto Gilbert's hands and him, not wanting to close the place that had so many memories of his childhood, decided to add Bash's name into the papers.

Their dads had been good friends most of their lives, and although Gilbert and Bash aren't the same age, he thinks of him as some kind of older brother who always helped him get through the hard times, especially right after his father was gone. It was only natural that Bash owned half of the diner, after all, he loved the place as much as Gilbert, for his father had worked there in the bar while Mr. Blythe served the costumers.

The two lousy boys had dedicated most of their free, youthful time, to run around the place like they owned it. Now that they did, it was pretty much the same, only that this time they run around placing food on the tables and scribbling people's orders.

After a few months of hectic confusion, Bash's mother practically forced them to hire more staff, since they had their hands full and Gilbert was breaking under the pressure that it was to keep the business going the same as his career.

They hired one of Gilbert's old friends and a few students that lived near the diner. Moody Spurgeon, Prissy Andrews, Charlie Sloane, and the Pauls (They weren't related, they just happened to be named Paul).

That Friday was the last before their winter break, so it was packed with tons of eager students wanting to eat their money away now that most of them were returning home for the holidays. This meant two wonderful things to Gilbert:

One, the diner was going great.

Two, he was getting the well-deserved sleep he'd been lacking for months.

Excluding that night, because that night he was going to get utterly shitfaced with Moody and company after their evening shift.

___________________

"I've never heard of that place before," Anne replied distractedly as she kept grabbing things from the table and putting them inside her bag.

"Students love that place, Ruby says they serve the best food and she's always there, but Jane says she's actually crushing on one of the waiters, though Ruby refuses to either confirm or deny..."

"Ruby's always crushing on someone, though," Cole replied. "If she's still going after all this time, the food must be worth it as much as any cute boy."

"I honestly don't care as long as there's enough room to sit and have a long, long chat with all of you," Anne smiled dreamily. "I've missed them so much! Even Josie– And you know how often she tends to get on my nerves!"

"You wouldn't be missing them so much if you could put the books down every once in a while to hang with us," Diana rolled her eyes. "Honestly Anne, it's a miracle you're not blind or wear glasses at all after all the hours you stay with your face glued to the pages."

"I'd look awful with glasses!" Anne grimaced. "I hope my eyesight stays the same for the rest of my life."

"Well then, take care of your eyes and take a break from those books. Leave your bag here, you won't need it," Cole grinned.

Anne's eyes landed on the bag laying on top of their table. That bag was used for one thing only: To carry as many books as possible in case she got bored, so she could read at any time, any place. Also to carry her keys and pads, but those weren't as important.

"But... what if the girls arrive late?"

"You can talk to us, or are we too boring for you now, Miss Literate?" Diana teased.

"You know that's not it," She rolled her eyes. "Okay, if you want I'll leave the books."

"Perfect," Cole clapped once and got up excitedly. "Let's go!"

___________________

"Gilbert, come back to earth and take this to table three, will you?" Charlie hissed, putting the plate in front of his nose and waking the boy abruptly.

"Sorry!" He jumped, walking hurriedly to said table.

When he got back, Charlie was still there, examining his face.

"Are you sure you want to go out, man? I can tell you're worn out, maybe you should take a–"

"No!" Gilbert growled. He cleared his throat and continued on a much lighter voice after noticing this. "I- Uh, I'll be fine. I'll sleep all I want tomorrow, but today I really want to go out, before you and the boys go back to your homes for Christmas."

Charlie nodded with uncertainty.

"Maybe you should change places with Bash? The kitchen might keep you alert instead of sitting here and wait for people to call you over."

"Yeah..."

"I'll get him," His friend decided, walking back to the kitchen.

Gilbert heard the entrance's bell ring and turned to see Ruby Gillis and a few other girls enter.

Ruby was a good and constant client. He was glad about Bash taking his place because he believed that Ruby had a crush on Moody, and the waiter always took her orders no matter the table she was in, he didn't have enough energy to watch them ogle at each other.

"You okay, Blythe?" Bash patted his back once he and Charlie reappeared behind him. "You're sure you want to go out? With that look, you're likely to scare all the ladies away instead of getting a date for our Christmas party."

"Very funny," Gilbert scoffed. "I'm fine, I just need to stay active."

Before either Bash or Charlie could reply, he rushed into the kitchen, missing the exact moment when three new costumers arrived at the place.

***

"I see why people love it here," Anne said. "I feel cozy just by looking at it!"

"Yeah," Cole agreed, frowning slightly. "We are going to a bar after this, aren't we?"

"Cole!" They replied.

"I'm just asking!" He exclaimed. "It's lovely and all, but I'm not spending my last weekend away from my maniac siblings eating a freaking burger."

"It's likely," Diana retorted. When she noticed Anne's eyes widening, she quickly added. "No one will force you to get drunk, I know you hate how... uhm– Well, how crazy you get."

"I love drunk Anne!" Cole laughed. "Last time I saw her we were playing truth or dare and she was dared to kiss one of my friends, but then I convinced Josie to change the dare and after that Anne grabbed me by the collar and whispered very loudly. 'Thank you Cole. I actually want to kiss you now' and when I reminded her I was gay, she retorted 'Oh, sorry Gay, I thought you were Cole' "

Diana and Cole chortled, Anne shook her head in horror.

"Drunk me is terrible!"

"No! Only her puns are."

"Can we just get a table, please?"

"Oh!" Diana grabbed her arm, pulling her to a distant corner. "They're here already!"

The next few hours passed way too fast. Anne, finally reunited with her best friends, felt as if she was finally coming back to life.

As Diana had predicted, they decided to go to a bar a few streets down the road from The Orchard. A place their waiter, a young man named Moody and who Anne suspected was the waiter Ruby had feelings for, had recommended to them, casually letting them know that he was going to be there after work with a few of his friends. Ruby practically dragged them to the bar as soon as they paid the bill.

"Bet Ruby ends up declaring her love to that waiter in less than an hour, and ends up spending the rest of the Holidays mourning because she scared him away," Josie whispered audibly to Jane and Anne. The former sniggered and nudged Josie's arm. Anne frowned worryingly towards her friend, really hoping that wasn't the case.

___________________

"Who's ready to lose all memories from whatever happens tonight?" Paul asked loudly over the music, placing a bunch of drinks in front of the group.

The boys answered by chugging down drink after drink, getting clumsier as time went by.

Gilbert was having a blast, most of his days he wishes he could go back to being a teenager, slightly more different than the one he was. One that wasn't all that quiet and reserved and bitter about his dad's fate.

He longed for his lost youth, where he would attend parties and go to prom looking sharp, accompanied by a pretty girl beside him. All those teams and clubs he had to leave to stay home and spend the last days of his father's life next to his bed, all those gatherings he missed with people from other places because he had to get the best grades so one day he could be a doctor, so he could save the people he loved... so he didn't have to live through the uncertainty and the uselessness again.

Tonight he was finally getting that, he could pretend he was still just a boy, a stupid boy who didn't know how to drink and most certainly would end up throwing up half his stomach out of his body, but a happy boy at least.

"You know," He yelled to no one in particular. "Did you know, that you guys are my best friends?"

The boys replied with words of appreciation, patting his back harshly. Charlie even hugged him.

"I mean it!" He continued. "These last few months have been shit. There, I said it. Shit."

"What you need," One of the Pauls said, he wasn't as drunk as Gilbert, but he was definitely almost there. "What you need is to get laid."

The boys erupted into mayhem, agreeing with Paul. All of them except for Gilbert.

He frowned, not understanding what they meant.

"I said I'm not tired," Gilbert shook his head, his whole body losing stability and crashing against Moody, who held him in place as if it was normal to lose your ground while sitting on a chair. "I don't need to lay in bed just yet."

"I meant sex," Paul retorted, chugging down half of what he had in his glass.

"Oh," Gilbert sat back, eyebrows raising as if he'd never thought about it before. "Well, that's different."

"You need a break," Charlie slurred. "Or is the good doctor too much of a saint to touch a strange girl?"

"I'm not," Gilbert huffed, drinking what was left of his drink. "I can have sex. I like sex!"

"But Gilbert, you've never had–" Moody started, but was soon cut off by Gilbert's sudden movement.

The young man stood up, leaning on the table and losing all the color on his face. The rest of the group moved away as Moody grabbed Gilbert by the shoulders and straightened him up.

"Gilbert?" He asked, slightly coming back to his senses.

"Bathroom," He said quietly.

"Alright," Moody gulped. "Be right back, guys. Gilbert needs a moment."

___________________

Anne spent the majority of the night talking with everyone, and the problem with that is that she gets thirsty when that happens. Which is a dangerous thing to be at a bar.

Still, Cole -what a great friend he was- made sure to always keep her glass full so she could take sip after sip without having to wait.

She knew she was far from sober when she found herself in the middle of an argument with Josie and Tillie about zodiac signs. Anne was talkative on the daily, but after a few drinks she was simply unstoppable- There was no soul on earth or heaven that could follow her train of thoughts, and right now she wasn't even sure she was following them herself.

"I have to pee," She said, interrupting her own story and sliding out of their booth to stand up.

"I'll go with you," Ruby said, impatient to have an excuse to stand up and look around for Moody, she'd barely touched her drink all night.

"Okay, but it's not like I need help or anything," Anne rolled her eyes, accidentally stepping on Tillie's foot. "Woops! Sorry, Tillie!"

Cole watched her along with Diana, both raising their glasses and making a silent toast for their friend. Anne was finally having fun after such a dull term and it was simply amusing watching her act so recklessly during her drunken state.

"Don't stay for too long Anne," Ruby warned her. "Last time you fell asleep inside the stall and Diana had to crawl underneath to get you out!"

"It wasn't my fault!" She replied loudly. "I hadn't slept at all that week, and the alcohol makes wonders to my insomnia."

"I think you've had enough for tonight as well," Ruby grinned. "I'll get you a cold glass of water once where back in our table, okay?"

Anne nodded, silently making her way into the girl's toilet. Since it was just one bathroom, Ruby had to stand outside, leaning on the sink and examining her reflection on the mirror. Two men, one dragging the other, walk past her in a rush and opened the boy's bathroom harshly, the one who'd been dragged quickly fell to his knees and started vomiting his guts out.

"Oh my god!" Ruby gasped, covering her mouth in horror. "Is he okay?"

"He's fine," The guy said without turning to see her. "He doesn't drink this much often, that's all."

The young man stood up once he made sure Gilbert was doing fine on his own, not choking or anything, and turn to meet the blonde's eyes.

"Oh," His cheeks reddened. "Hi!"

"Moody!" She exclaimed happily. "You weren't lying, you came here after all!"

"Yeah," He smiled. "We wanted to give our buddy Gilbert a good night before we return home. Now I'm not so sure about it..." He grimaced at hearing his friend's grunts and gags.

"I'm with my friends as well, but I..." Ruby blushed lightly, even that she managed to make enchanting. "If you have time, we could seat together for a moment? Just the two of us?"

"Right now?" Moody asked in surprise.

"Well, no," Ruby peered over his shoulder at the boy's bathroom. "Not if you can't, I see your friend is feeling terrible..."

"He'll recover," Moody brushed it off. "He's studying to become a doctor, you know? I bet he'll see his way out now that the alcohol's out of his system"

"You're sure?" The girl inquired.

"Are you able right now?" Moody looked behind her to see the girl's door. "Were you waiting in line or is one of your friends there?"

"A friend, she's also wasted," Ruby said, pondering her options. "But... I guess if she managed to walk all the way here on her own... she can walk back just fine?"

Moody's smile widened.

"We better go get those drinks, then?"

"Sure!" Ruby exclaimed, holding Moody's wrist and dragging him back to the bar.

A minute after her friend had left, Anne walked out of the toilet, mid-conversation with a Ruby she didn't know was no longer there.

"... and the toilets here are so comfortable, I almost felt tempted to have a nap right there, but a promise is a promise– See, Ruby? I didn't stay for too long!" She looked up to find the spot empty, her confidence falling. "Or perhaps I did..?"

Lightly stumbling her way over to the sink, she focused on washing her hands before going back. Her reflection looked back at her and smiled happily, putting some strands of loose hair behind her ear and failing to notice the boy's door opening.

There was a small slate on her right with the words 'Wash your hands before you leave! :)' written with purple chalk that she found adorable. She picked it up to examine it further when a body clumsily crashed against her side.

"Woops!" The man said, not looking up. "Sorry."

Anne raised her brow for a second before turning her attention back to the slate.

Gilbert washed his face and hands, the world less blurry than before but still awfully intoxicated. Paul's comment came back to him and feeling the girl's presence behind his back he decided it was rather convenient.

"Excuse me," He asked, looking up and facing the girl's reflection. "Can I ask you something?"

It took her a moment to realize he was talking to her, the man kept staring at the mirror instead of turning to face her, but she could sort of see his face under the dim lights looking back at her though, and since she was feeling rather chatty, she obliged.

"Sure, what's up?"

"Do I look like I need sex?"

Anne laughed.

"Dunno, why're you asking?"

"My life sucks," Gilbert shook his head casually. "And I'm about to have the worst hangover ever."

"That makes two of us, dude."

Gilbert tilted his head, turning to see her now, taking in her appearance.

"You would have sex with me?"

"Excuse me," Anne frowned. "I barely know you!"

"Yeah, but am I attractive?"

"It doesn't matter, I wouldn't have sex with a stranger."

"Very well, then imagine that I'm not a stranger," Gilbert rolled his eyes, having to hold on to the corner of the sink so as not to lose his balance. "Would you do it?"

Anne started to imagine, she imagined a great deal so she could give a precise answer.

"Well, I'd have to know your medical records cause I don't wanna get any diseases, and then I'd have to find you likable because looks aren't everything– and if I'm having sex with you I probably want something that lasts–"

"Nevermind," Gilbert snorted. "I think we're both better if we don't have anything at all."

"Why's that?" Anne asked irritatedly, this guy was making no sense to her.

"You overthink a lot and I already do that way too much for my own good," Gilbert explained.

"Oh, so you'd rather take advantage of a dumb girl, is that what you're saying?"

"That's what you're saying," He scoffed. "I only asked if you'd have sex with me in a hypothetical scenario but you rambled on with the rest, Carrots."

"I was giving an honest reply," She stated. "And don't call me, Carrots. You sound like a child."

Gilbert laughed loudly at that.

"Better a child than a grumpy librarian," He walked up to her, grabbed a strand of her hair and pulled lightly, with a taunting voice, he added. "Carrots."

Anne's fingers gripped the slate harder than ever as she flung it to the man's head. It was small and thin, so it didn't cause severe damage, but the slate broke in half with a nasty 'crack' that pleased her a bit too much.

"How dare you!" She yelled in drunk anger. "I don't know who the hell you are, but I'm certain no one would have sex with a jerk!"

She stormed off, giving Gilbert no opportunity to apologize. Although he didn't seem to mind that much at the moment, the things around him spun once more and he had to return to the toilet to vomit what was left of his evening drinks, dreading the following morning.

___________________

Anne, Cole, and Diana returned home with rosy cheeks and loud laughter surrounding them. The trio intoxicated in happiness and many, many margaritas and shots.

"Best night ever!" Anne yelled as she let herself fall on the couch, kicking off her shoes.

"Told you it was going to be fun!" Diana grinned, laying beside her.

"My favorite part was to find Ruby making out with the waiter when I went to ask for the check," Cole cackled. "No wonder why she abandoned you in the bathroom!"

"Don't even tell me about it, I had the most unpleasant encounter–"

"Oh my god!" Diana sat up, looking at her phone with wide eyes. "It's four in the morning! We have to be back in Avonlea in less than eight hours!"

Cole and Anne groaned.

"Can't we have a nap first? We packed all of our things already!" Anne whined.

"Please?" Cole fell on the couch opposite to them. "I'm exhausted!"

"Fine..." Diana sighed. "But I'm certain my mom's gonna kill me for arriving late."

"What can she do? Forbid you to go to their Christmas dinner?" Cole chuckled. "Just sleep, Diana."

"Goodnight, guys."

"Goodnight!"

"Sweet dreams," Anne mumbled, half-asleep.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––

Next Chapter –––––––––––>

Add yourself to our taglist :)

[chipsfics]

Part 6 1/2 - Doubles Therapy

Half of part 6! The second half is coming soon ;)

Rated: PG (for swearing and heavy themes)

~~~~

One morning, the sun rose exceptionally orange, filtering through the leaves and harsh through the windows of the hotel. Yinyang was awoken abruptly by a ray of sunshine peaking out from behind the nearby mountains and hitting him directly on the face- He blinked and wrinkled up his face. Another morning... Yang cursed under his breath and turned away from the window. Through squinted eyes, though, he saw his roommate, the Cherries, place what looked like a small brochure onto his bedside table silently. Before they could process what just happened, the Cherries were out the door. What in the...?

After a couple minutes of resting, trying to wake up- Yinyang heaved himself out of bed and stretched their arms towards the ceiling. He reached over and inspected the paper that the Cherries gave him- It read in big, blocky font:

"DOUBLES THERAPY GROUP"

Yinyang stared at it a couple seconds before sniffing and opening up the brochure. 

"Today, 3:30 PM - Hotel OJ event hall B Any and all objects who are 2 or more connected and/or merged are invited to talk about their experiences."

Yinyang read it about 4 times before they placed it back onto the table, thinking. 

"I don't... We don't need therapy." Yang growled under his breath.

"I think Cherries gave that to us just cause we're, y'know..." Yin said. "I don't think they meant any offense. And... I think we kind of do."

"You might. I'm doing fine," Yang said. Yin furrowed his brow at his other half. 

"Anyway, let's go down to the kitchen."

"Fine. But are we going to show up today?" Yin said. 

"Not if i can help it. I've got plans," Yang said. 

"Plans? That I don't know about?" Yin said, standing up off the bed.

"You don't know everything about me." Yang said.

"Yes I do," Yin continued.

"No you don't." Yang contested.

"Yes I do!" Yin exclaimed.

"No you don't." Yang stood his ground.

"We're literally fused!" Yin said, waving his hand.

"Dumbass, we've been split before," Yang said, leading them out the door and towards the elevator.

"For like 20 minutes." Yin continued, talking as they walked.

"Well you still don't know EVERYTHING." Yang said.

"Name one thing that I don't know about you." Yin said.

"I can't, cause then you'd know it and it'd defeat the purpose." Yang responded.

"That doesn't even make sense!" Ding. Yin pressed the elevator button. 

"You don't make sense," They went down and turned the corner towards the snack cabinet- Their usual route. They usually ate a chocolate chip granola bar for breakfast- Because it was just healthy enough for Yin to tolerate and just sweet enough for Yang to tolerate. When they reached up and grabbed the box, it was surprisingly light- They shook it around and there didn't seem to be anything inside of it. Yinyang sighed and threw away the cardboard box in the small trash can in the corner of the walk-in cabinet. They trudged their way out of the snack cabinet, getting even more upset. It was around 11:45- A thought hit him. He wondered if there was any coffee left in the breakfast bar.

Yin hated coffee for how unhealthy it was- plus the old, worn out coffee maker in the hotel looked so.... Dirty. The wear and tear on the machine didn't help the already skunky smell of cheap coffee that filled the air every morning. But, beggars can't be choosers, and they were already making a beeline for the breakfast bar. Yinyang scanned the room for the old coffee machine, still steaming and half-full of coffee from earlier that morning. Yinyang sleepily grabbed a mug off the rack and poured themselves a cup- As they were about to exit the other side, they paused as they saw someone they didn't recognise spreading cream cheese on a bagel. 

They were a pair of blue swimming goggles with a small orange stripe on the outside plastic- one arm on one side, and another arm on the other. There was one face on each of their glass panel "eyes"- and when they noticed Yinyang standing and staring, they awkwardly glanced over and quickly glanced back. Hurry, say something!

"Ummm... Hi." Yinyang said. "I don't believe we've met."

"Oh! Um. Hello, we're Goggles." They turned around, and the two faces spoke in unison.

"Were you on Inanimate Insanity? I don't remember competing with you." Yinyang continued.

"Umm. Cutting right to the chase, huh?" One of Goggles' faces took a bite out of the bagel and chewed while the other spoke. "Nahh, we were never on II. But we're friends with the Cherries, and they invited me to the doubles therapy circle thing going on this afternoon. We live pretty far away, and we didn't know how long it'd take to drive here. I guess we overestimated, haha... but your pal OJ said we could chill out here until the event officially starts."

"Huh... cool. Wait, you drove here?" Yinyang continued. "Its been forever since i've driven or even been in a car."

"Oh, we don't drive a car." Goggles said, and failed to elaborate.

"Really? Then what do you drive?" Yinyang said, his interest peaked.

"We drive a tandem motorcycle." Goggles said, smiling. 

"Tandem motorcycle?" Yinyang said.

"Yeah! It's like a tandem bicycle, but a motorcycle." Goggles continued.

"Huh." Yinyang said, taking a sip of their coffee (which was quickly cooling down). "By the way, we're Yinyang."

"Oh, we know. We've seen you before! On TV. Man, you were one of the funniest characters! We loved the bit about the vending machine." Goggles said, and swallowed. One of the arms passed the bagel to the other face, and they took a bite and started chewing while the other face smiled at them.

"Funny?... Bit?" Yinyang looked puzzled and a bit offended. There was a short but stuffy silence.

"Anyway, I assume you two are coming too? To the therapy circle?" Goggles continued. 

"Yes!" Yin said. "No," Yang contested. "Maybe." Yin added. 

"Well, we'd be happy to see you there!" Goggles said, and finished off their breakfast. "See ya around!" They said, walking off, seemingly in a hurry. What a weirdo. 

Yinyang sipped their coffee. The interaction made them want to go to this event even less... But somehow even more at the same time. That weird sort of curiosity. 

Yinyang took his mug into the game room, where Tissues was already sitting on the floor eating out of a box of cereal as if it were crackers, watching the tv. 

"Oh, hai guyse. I've been waiting for you!" Tissues said, and shoveled a handful of cereal into his mouth and crunched loudly. "What do you wanna play first? I think that we can make it past level 5 in Space Bubble: Galaxy Quest today." Tissues said the title of the video game in a commercial-esque voice. 

"Hmmm.. Yeah! I think so too." Yin said. "I'm gonna blast the hell out of those aliens!" Yang added.

Tissues laughed and loaded in the cartridge, handing the other controller to the two. He booted up the game, selected two-player, and started on their old routine. This was a particularly difficult game to beat- especially the platforming aspect. Neither of them were very good at it. After a couple minutes of playing, Tissues occasionally taking breaks on loading screens to eat another handful of cereal (Yinyang doing the same with his coffee), Yinyang broke the conversational hum.

"Tissues?" Yinyang said.

"Yeah?" Tissues answered, still preoccupied with his game.

"Have you ever been stuck in a situation where... where you want to do something adventurous, but you aren't sure if you should?" He said, and Tissues quickly brought his full attention back to the conversation.

"Hmm. Yeah... I usually go for staying at home. But that's just the kind of person I am," Tissues said. "Oh- Uhh, Here's a good example. When i was given the offer to join Inanimate Insanity like... a million years ago... I thought about it for a long time and I figured "why not." I.. Well, i didn't do so well in the umm. Actual show, but im glad i said yes, because i got to meet you guyse." Tissues said, setting down the controller, as they were between levels.

"Huh." Yinyang said, and smiled. "Thanks, Tissues."

"Now... let's go on to level 6," Tissues smirked, and there was a sweet, knowing silence.

Once they ran out of lives for the 3rd or 4th time, Tissues paused and heaved himself up onto the couch in order to see better, leaving the half-empty cereal box on the ground. He nuzzled oddly close to Yinyang... that or he was just sliding towards them because their weight weighed down the cushion. Either way, it was kind of nice. He was very warm. I guess it distracted him, because before he knew it, they game over'd for a 5th time.

~~~~

3:30 PM. Yinyang walked past the pale orange double doors of event hall A and stood silently in front of event hall B, thoughts racing. Should they? Shouldn't they? Their two halves started to blend together, to the point where it was kind of disorienting. Yinyang took a deep breath. Maybe just for a little while? He thought on what Tissues had told him earlier that day- Adventure, new opportunities. Who knows, they might even learn something. 

What's the worst that could happen?

Yinyang pushed open the double doors and leaned in, the medium sized event room mostly vacant except for the aforementioned Goggles character, the Cherries, and one other object- What appeared to be a traffic light with 3 faces, one on each of the different colors. He was attempting to stay quiet- But Goggles spotted him and waved, causing the other objects' attention to be directed on him.

"Yinyang! You made it." Goggles' two faces said in perfect unison. "We were starting to think you wouldn't show."

"Welcome, welcome!" The green face on the traffic light said. 

"Take a seat, I guess." The yellow face on the traffic light suddenly dinged on and spoke. 

Yinyang sighed and walked through the door, taking a seat on one of the folding chairs they'd set up.

"Alright. Now that everyone's here, should we start?" one of the Cherries spoke up. Everyone looked around and nodded a sort of awkward universal agreement, and the speaking cherry clapped their hands together. 

"Alright! We should go around the room and introduce ourselves, and explain a bit about ourselves. We'll go first." The Cherries smiled. "We're Cherries, and we're twins connected by a stem. We think exactly alike, although Right Cherries handles creative tasks, while I, Left Cherries, handles logical tasks." The Cherries elaborated, the right cherry nodding along to what the left cherry was saying.  "Alright, you next, Goggles!" 

"We're Goggles," Goggles said in perfect unison. "We share the same mind. Sometimes we talk seperately and bounce ideas off each other or tell each other jokes, but most of the time we're in perfect sync. Alright, you next, Traffic Light!" 

The green traffic light dinged on. "We're traffic light! I'm Green, and I'm happy and positive." The yellow traffic light dinged on. "I'm uhh.. I'm Yellow, and I'm indifferent or whatever." The red traffic light dinged on. "I'M RED AND I'M WAY BETTER THAN THOSE OTHER TWO IDIOTS!"

Yinyang chuckled. "Yknow, he kind of reminds me of you, Yang." Yin thought. "Shut up," Yang glared at his other half. 

Cherries sighed. "Alright, you next Yinyang!"

"SHUT UP!" The red traffic light shouted.

"See?" Yin thought, and Yang huffed. After a short silence, Yinyang realized that everyone was staring at him. 

"Oh. Umm. I'm Yin, and he's Yang." Yin said. "I'm good and pure, and he's.... well, he's passionate. We don't always get along, but we need each other. We're two halves of the same whole." Yang didn't feel like arguing with that, because as much as he disliked himself, it was true. 

"Something me and Yinyang have in common was that we were both on Inanimate Insanity season 2," The cherries spoke up. "It was... A little traumatizing. I think i speak for the both of us," The Cherries laughed. "But i had fun while it lasted!" 

"It was weird to have our... whole thing broadcast on live TV like that. It felt like they were making fun of us," Yinyang said. "And when we split... It was really stressful." Yin said. "Well, I thought it was fun. But yeah..." Yang continued.

"I know what it's like to have people make fun of you," The Goggles spoke up.

The yellow traffic light sighed. "Us too, especially Green and Red." 

"Mm. I think we've all been there," The Cherries said, paused, and then perked up when they thought of something. "Wait, Goggles, have you ever been on a bus, or in a movie theater, and you couldn't find two seats for the both of you?" 

"All the time!" Goggles gasped. "Wait, on a similar topic- Have you ever been separated from each other somehow?"

The Cherries looked a bit uncomfortable. "Yes, once... It was kind of scary." Cherries said. "We felt... incomplete. After a little while Right Cherries started to-" The Left Cherry shuddered. "Decompose? I dunno. Disconnected from the stem, they just started rotting. It was really freaky!"

"Woah. That sounds rough." Goggles said. "Our bond is pretty strong, but one time we snapped in two. It was kind of like stapling our brain in half? Unfortunately we died like 2 minutes later, and it was a huge relief once we were recovered and still connected."

"Thats heavy. I think Yinyang can understand, too." The Cherries looked over at the two.

"Oh. Well, yeah... It was. Stressful is all I can say... I just felt incomplete." Yin said. "I could have made it on my own." Yang was completely deadpan. 

The two got really quiet. After that, they kind of tuned out the conversation. They were sitting in the metal chair, weirdly uncomfortable, in a dizzy thought jumble that made them feel like their brain was being scrambled. The other objects' voices got really muffled and far away- and it was hard to form a coherent thought. Some kind of all-consuming bad feeling. Like a shadow suddenly cast over them. What was this feeling?

Yinyang snapped back to reality when he was touched gently on the shoulder by Goggles' right side- He yelped and grabbed their wrist and squeezed it, hard. Once he realized what he'd done, he jumped back and apologized profusely.

"Oww, What the hell?!" The Goggles said, slightly out of sync. "What's wrong with you, man! The session is over. Traffic Light and Cherries are already gone,"

"Oh god, I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me." Yin said, "Don't touch me." Yang growled. 

The Goggles sighed. "Ugh... Just... Man... You've been quiet the entire session. Is something wrong?"

"I don't..." Yinyang clenched his teeth, hard. "I just... I.... I'm... We're.." He opened and closed his fists.

"Whatever. Just don't do it again, ok? Jesus." The Goggles got up and put away their chair. 

Once he was sure that he was alone again, Yinyang cried in the empty event hall until he didn't feel like someone anymore. What was happening to him? How did it get this bad so fast?

~~~~

[kessielrg]

[Dragon Age] Oreos

Summary: In which Varric teaches his kid the proper way to dunk an Oreo. Hawke is there to be an as-…sistant. [oneshot][female humorous Hawke][modern AU]

Rating: K+

Word Count: 1,971 words

If you liked this story, please reblog!

---

“Now where did I put them?” Varric mumbled to himself as he looked through the pantry. He cursed to himself when he tried to reach a bit higher up. Curse the Maker for making him vertically challenged. Had to use a stool in his own home and still couldn’t reach the top shelf. Go figure.

“Got it!” the dwarf exclaimed as his hand got a firm hold of the plastic packaging. After a very careful extraction, Varric held the Oreo package close as he then moved the stool to its rightful corner. He placed the Oreos on a serving tray he had arranged on the kitchen counter. Humming some Kidz Bop song he heard earlier, he then went into the fridge to pull out the milk.

As he poured the milk into three glasses, Varric kept an ear out for the living room. The sounds of a young voice were easy to make out, but was she talking to someone else or just herself again? As he put the milk back in the fridge, Varric really wished that Hawke kept her medicine in the kitchen instead of the bathroom. The last time he checked, her prescription needed to be filled again, and Hawke had yet to do so. It worried him. It worried him a lot more than he was willing to admit.

Varric let out a sigh before taking the tray and heading into the living room. Varric had his own kid to tend to, and it wasn’t Hawke. Still didn’t stop him from letting out a sigh of relief in seeing both Hawke and Hana sitting at the living room coffee table. He wouldn’t have to force her out of bed today. Good. Not that the promise of deliciously nasty cookies was anything to ignore. Hawke was a sucker for sweets whether she was aware of it or not.

Hana seemed rather chipper though. Actively serving as the only genuine energy in the room, Varric’s daughter had her straw yellow hair pulled into two low pigtails today. She was gladly going on about some topic that Hawke couldn’t feign actual interest in. Was she going on about how pretty Selena Gomez was again, or that game that her birth giver introduced her to a few weeks back? Oh well, it didn’t matter now. Now that Varric had gotten everything ready, it was time for the main event.

“We have gathered here today for a very momentous occasion.” Varric announced, striding over to the girls and effectively earning their attention. “Today is the day that we teach 7 year old Hana Tethras how to properly dunk, and eat, Oreos.”

Hana put on a wide smile. Hawke even gave a rather generous round of applause. She even peppered it with a few “That’s our girl!” and “She’s getting so big!” cheers for extra effect. It only helped the younger girl beam with pride. Even Varric gave a light smirk of appreciation.

“Now teenybopper,” he said as he took a place across from the girls, placing the tray right in the middle of the coffee table. “How do you feel? You nervous? Already got a preemptive tummy ache from all the sugar your old man is going to let you consume?”

“Nope!” Hana told him with a firm shake of her head. She then slammed her hands down with determination before saying, “Bring it, Papa!”

“Rein it back kid,” Varric laughed, “Don’t want to get the milk all over the coffee table, do we?”

“Sorry.” Hana sheepishly apologized. She carefully took her milk glass from her father and placed it to her left. She even gave it a good, hard stare, as if she was pressuring it into not falling over later. Varric snorted before handing Hawke her glass as well, then went about divvying up the cookies.

“Ah, Oreos,” Hawke thinly mused as Varric gave her share. “The only cure for my depression.”

He tried to hold it back, Varric scoffed. “They are not. That’s what your medication is for.”

“Well, you don’t have to act so sure about it,” Hawke frowned. “Give me my delusions and plausible deniability, Varric. It’s all I got in this world.”

“You have me Hawke!” Hana quickly chirped. “And Papa too!”

Hawke gave Hana a rather tired look, not quite intended for the child to see. The woman absently placed a hand on Hana’s head. She then gently stroked the top of Hana’s head as if it were a calming mechanism. Maybe it was; something about little Hana did give off a rather comforting aura. But Hawke would be damned if she knew just what it was.

“I do.” Hawke carefully agreed- although the sentence came out more as a question. Seeing Hana’s bright smile only made Hawke a bit more dazed. Varric looked on with a rather concerned expression on his face. He gently coughed into his hand, leading the ladies’ attention back to him.

“Now, for your first proper lesson, I’ve decided to go the easy route. I’m not training my young’in with the normal Oreos- that would be an exercise and a half not to break them. No, we’re going to use double stuffed Oreos. The best kind.”

“Naw, what about the triple stuffed Oreos, Varric?” Hawke whined. “Why can’t we use them instead?”

“Too much stuff.” came the rather firm answer. “I am a man of correcting my previous mistakes, and I’m not taking that road again.”

Hawke gave a badly exaggerated groan before telling him, “Having a kid really ruined your sense of fun.”

“No,” the man asserted. “Having a kid gave me a greater sense of avoiding 3 AM puke fests because someone decided to eat too much cookie cream.”

“It was one time!” Hawke argued, despite the rather amused look she had- Hana was stifling a cute little laughter beside her. “Everyone was black-out drunk anyway, and it was the perfect prank.”

“I don’t think Sebastian would say the same.”

“Since when were you ever one for accurate reaccountments, hmm?”

“You know he’s a dunker, Hawke. It gives him a sense of purpose.”

“Was he? Always seemed more like a licker.”

“Anyway…!” Varric then loudly proclaimed. “We’re getting off topic.”

Hawke and Hana exchanged a look before erupting into a set of bemused giggles. Varric rolled his eyes. Surround yourself with girls, they said. It would be a joy, they said. At least one of them was directly related to him- he wasn’t sure why he kept the other around.

“Now that I have your attention again,” Varric told them, “Let us first begin by picking up the Oreo itself…”

. . .

In a way, this whole thing was just so Varric could easily say seven year olds had the fine motor movement to carefully manipulate something as delicate as Oreo cookies. Always write what you know, yeah? It was a bit hard to believe that his own spawn actually stuck her tongue out when she was concentrating. She definitely didn’t get that from his side of the family. If anything, it was something he could see Hawke doing…

“I finally got it!” Hana suddenly exclaimed. Varric and Hawke both looked at her at the same time. The girl was proudly showing her two Oreo halves. One side had just the cream, the other was completely clean.

“Great job, teenybopper!” Varric approved. “Hawke, lean over and muss her hair for me. I can’t reach.”

Hawke nodded, but didn’t mess up Hana’s hair. Instead, she gave her a small elbow nudge and said, “Great job, teeny. Now we can audition you for all those Oreo commercials. You’d be a shoo-in.”

Hana’s smile grew even wider at the approval. Oh, to be young and easily proud of your (usually useless) accomplishments.

“Remember to only use your teeth to scrape the cream off if your tongue can’t find a good pocket beforehand.” Varric reminded his kid. Hana gave him a firm nod before returning to the cookie. He gave her a smile as he returned to his own lot as well.

Hawke had also returned to her Oreo dunking. After two cookies, she no longer felt like licking the cream off before dunking, so she just let the Oreo soak for a few moments. It was almost a routine that she zoned out for. Dip the Oreo, wait a bit, then eat it. Nothing to think about. It was a legitimate surprise when half the Oreo fell into the milk as she tried to pull it out. She blinked a few times before looking up at Varric.

“Varrrric,” Hawke whined, “Cookies got lost in milk!”

“That’s because you tried to dunk too much of the Oreo in the milk.” he replied without so much looking at her. “Then you pinched it as you pulled it up, and all your mushy cookie got lost.”

“But I didn’t pinch it!” she went on. A small edge in her voice made Varric look up. For a moment, he wondered if she was legitimately upset about it. “I only had half of it in the milk- you saw it! Tell ‘im, Hana.”

“You’re so funny, Hawke!” Hana laughed. The poor girl obviously not seeing that Hawke wasn’t quite being dramatic on purpose this time. Not that Varric could blame her- he’d bottle that innocence up and repackage it back into Hawke herself if he could.

“A real barrel of monkeys.” Varric mused. He gave a small click of his tongue before asking, “Hawke, did you take your meds today?”

Hawke proceeded to look at him like he was crazy. The dwarf was unrelenting, though. He had full plans of staring her down until Hana interrupted all of their thoughts with a musing;

“What do they make Oreo filling with anyway?”

A silence followed after this. Mostly because Varric didn’t want to stop nonverbally bullying Hawke into confessing she wasn’t taking care of herself again. He had to relent, letting out a defeated sigh before telling Hana, “Dunno, teenybopper. We can look it up later if you want.”

Hana gave a thoughtful hum and a little nod of her head, her attention too focused on staring at the Oreos now. Varric shook his head at her, before trying turning his attention back to Hawke. But Hawke had left the coffee table. She had slunk her way onto the couch, and was now actively trying to find the TV remote. That meant in a few minutes, Hawke would find something on TV that interested Hana, and the Oreo eating portion of their day officially over.

And Varric would be the one cleaning up the mess, because of course he would.

Varric let out a sigh before starting to get up. He made a trip to the kitchen to get a note off the fridge, then went back into the living room and straight to Hawke.

“The pharmacy closes in six hours,” he told her as he handed the note over, “Call them, or I’ll sit on you.”

Hawke looked at him, not sure whether to be amused or angered.

“Having a kid really ruined your sense of privacy.” she said, almost in a grumble

“No,” he told her. “Having a kid gave me a greater sense of caring for others. I’m not asking you twice, Hawke. Call them.”

The corners of Hawke’s mouth twitched as if she wanted to tell him off. He never gave her the chance. Instead, he sat back over with Hana, and quite purposely started to make conversation with her. The girl was rather ignorant of the friction between the two friends. In a way, Varric was grateful for it. She’d know and understand it better when she was older. But for now ignorance was bliss.

He just prayed that every force used to beat Hawke down never reached his own kid.

[yourkeeperoftherunners]

6/1: Working From Home (Golden Tiger Hybrid!Taehyung)

Rating: G

Characters: Golden Tiger Hybrid!Taehyung x Reader (any gender)

Notes: Day 1 of my birthday surprise series. This is part of the Misunderstood Hybrid headcanons I wrote for BTS a while back. Please note that working from home can refer to anyone who does this and it does not specifically reference the current events. I got the idea to write short blurbs after seeing some comical pictures and moments in video conference calls of pets “helping” their owners work. All content is fictional. Please do not repost anywhere!

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

He’s used to seeing you get up, get dressed, share a breakfast meal with him, and head off in your car to work. Even though you always come home hours later, he has felt lonely in your place, trying to find things to keep him busy.

When Monday rolls around and the alarm goes off by your nightstand, he crinkles his nose and pouts, knowing that it’s another day of trying to find something to watch on TV or maybe playing on your computer. He threw the covers over his head, wishing it was the weekend again. This earned a laugh from you and you reached out to ruffle his hair between his ears.

“Wanna get up sleepyhead? I’m gonna make breakfast,” you told him in a soft voice.

“But you’ll leave again!” he mumbled. “I don’t like Mondays!”

“Not many people do,” you replied with a laugh. “Come on, I’ll make waffles.”

Darn, you had to bribe him with those funny squares that were crispy, yet soft that he’d grown so fond of eating. You usually made them for the weekend or as a special treat. How could he say no to those?

He peeked out from under the covers, showing his ears and eyes. “Really?”

“Yes, come on and get dressed.”

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

Taehyung slipped a shirt over his head and used his free hand to smooth down his bangs. After studying himself in the mirror to make sure he looked presentable, he nodded and bounded downstairs, closing his eyes as the smell of sweet vanilla filled his nose.

He took a seat at the table and reached for a napkin to put in his lap, while you placed a plate with two large, golden waffles in front of him. He beamed and thanked you with a bright smile, before grabbing his fork to cut off a piece.

You watched his face for his reaction and he flashed you a thumbs-up, declaring that these were perfect. You turned back to the waffle maker and carefully removed the pair for yourself. Before you could carry them over to the table, your phone rang and you grimaced.

“Sorry,” you whispered to Taehyung as you slid your finger across the screen. “Hello?”

“Hey, did you get Ryan’s invite for the meeting today?” one of your co-workers asked.

“No I didn’t,” you confessed. “Let me guess, it’s now, isn’t it?”

“Um you’ve got like, 10 minutes,” your co-worker replied. “I’ll forward the Zoom meeting invite.”

You thanked her before hanging up and sighed as you pocketed your phone. Taehyung looked up from eating and tilted his head with a glum face.

“You need to leave now, don’t you?” he said.

You shook your head and glanced at your home office. “Actually, I’m working from home today. I forgot to tell you that our manager is trying something out to see if working from home increases productivity like studies have shown. I was going to enjoy breakfast with you, but it looks like I’m going to have to eat and talk on a video call now.” You began to carry your plate to the office and paused at the door. “There’s more batter in the bowl if you want more waffles Tae. I’m so sorry about this!”

Taehyung reassured you it was fine and he watched as you slipped inside your office and closed the door behind you. He blinked as he turned toward his plate, trying to process this recent news. So you weren’t leaving today, but you were going to be busy most of the day. He had been curious about the waffles on a Monday, but it was starting to make sense. He glanced at the office door, then looked at the clock on the microwave.

His eyes went to the coffee pot and your coffee mug a few inches away. He pushed himself back from his seat and saw the mug was empty.

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

“Ryan did you check your In folder?” one of your co-workers asked. “I left my notes on top before I went home on Thursday.”

“Hang on,” Ryan grumbled as he fumbled with the folders on his desk. He opened a few up and found the papers in question. “Sorry, I found them.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his carelessness. Typical – he claimed to be organized, but his desk told another story with the mess of stacks and miscellaneous papers and files all over the place. You spoke up and said that your part of a project that the manager assigned was green-lit. You used the file share option to share your screen with the meeting invitees, and pointed out the tasks that you assigned to everyone on the call.

You were so busy talking through the points that you didn’t hear the soft knock on the office door.

“Hi Jagi, you forgot your coffee, so I poured you a fresh cup,” Taehyung said as he stuck his head in. He slowly held out your mug and tilted his head when he saw the other people on your screen.

You swiveled around in your chair and saw he had put a beret on to cover up his ears. You stood up and took the mug from him.

“Thank you,” you whispered with a smile.

He nodded and shyly waved at your co-workers on the screen, before closing the door behind him.

“Boyfriend?” one of your female co-workers teased as you took a sip from your mug.

“Honey, why don’t you bring me coffee like that?” another one called to her husband from her home office, a twinkle in her eyes.

“Ha ha, very funny guys,” you remarked with a faint smile. “Yes he’s my boyfriend and he’s wonderful. Now can we focus?”

[jombocostello]

hey!! can i request a Polnareff x Reader where it’s basically set after the events of Stardust Crusaders where they go their separate ways and Polnareff goes to back to France but the reader decides to go with him cuz it’s been her dream to go to France and now they’re just a lovey dovey couple doing romantic things that deserve a happy ending after the events in egypt. (ik in pt 5 he said he travelled europe in search of the arrows but i just wanna see my french man all goofy w/ a happy ending)

hi, thanks so much for the request!! i am so happy my first request is a polnareff one lmao. this is such a cute idea! and i agree- polnareff deserves a nice relaxing life on the french countryside with the love of his life more than anything!

perfection (polnareff x reader)

"So... You're sure about this, right?"

"Yes! God, how many times do I have to tell you?"

That had been three months ago, after you and the other crusaders had defeated Dio. You stood at the airport, one hand securely holding your luggage and the other held tightly in Polnareff's. "I don't have any family, so we'll be on our own. It's quiet where I'm from."

"It's not gonna be quiet if I'm there," you said, and he laughed a little. "I'll brighten up your little neighborhood in no time, trust me."

"I'm glad." He leaned down and kissed your forehead, and despite being relatively new, the gesture felt like the most familiar, comfortable thing in the world. "Our plane'll be leaving soon, (Y/N). You ready?"

You nodded, setting your luggage down on the ground and gently letting go of Polnareff's hand. "One second." You walked over to Joseph and Jotaro, who were getting ready for their own flight a few feet away, and pulled them both into a hug. "Bye, guys," you murmured into Jotaro's shoulder, grinning. "I'll see you around."

You all pulled back and took in each other's expressions. "Good luck with him," Joseph said, gesturing to Polnareff. "He can be a real pain in the ass."

Jotaro cracked a smile. "But so can she, so I think they'll be alright." You all laughed and, after one more hug, said goodbye.

Polnareff handed you your bag when you got back. "So, are you excited?" you asked, grinning up at him as you walked. "I am. I'm really happy."

Never one for suppressing his emotions, Polnareff smiled widely down at you and again took your hand in his. "I can't even describe how happy I am. My heart is so full." You felt your face heat up and you sighed, raising his hand and kissing it gently. "I promise I'll make you happy."

You had no doubt that he would fulfill that promise.

---

"Shit! Ah, uh... Jean, on a scale of one to ten, how important is this mug to you?"

Three months later and you've settled into domestic life wonderfully. Polnareff's hometown really isn't much of a town - every house in the area is a five minute drive away - but it doesn't bother you one bit. The gorgeous scenery and the peace of total silence is a welcome change, especially after what you've both been through.

There had been a couple bumps in the road during the first month; you'd taken your relationship pretty quickly, to be fair, so there was a bit of awkwardness and readjusting as you learned to live with each other. Still, though, you both make each other so happy that those problems sorted themselves out pretty quickly.

And now you're here, holding half of a bright red coffee mug while the other half lies shattered on the ground. Polnareff pokes his head in from the other room and you meet his gaze, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry."

He looks from you to the smashed mug, and before you can get nervous, a grin splits across his face. "It was ugly anyways! And now we have an excuse to get a new one." He walks over to you with long strides and crouches down, carefully picking up the shards. "We can get one in your favorite color, which is... Uh..." You watch him with raised eyebrows as he wracks his brain for a few moments. Finally, he tries a color, and to your surprise he gets it right! He smirks as he stands back up and tosses the mug in the trash. "We're on the same wavelength, ma cherie," he says with a laugh.

"I guess so. Definitely on the right track, at least." You grab a different mug and VERY carefully bring it over to the counter. As you pour your coffee, you watch Polnareff lean against the kitchen counter. His hair is nearly touching the ceiling; it's so funny how he dwarfs everything in his own home.

"I didn't know you drink coffee," he comments.

"I haven't been able to sleep for the past two months so I figured I probably shouldn't," you answer as you spoon sugar into your cup. "This week has been pretty good sleep-wise so I'm bringing it back!" You take an obnoxious sip and burn the hell out of your tongue. Polnareff laughs loudly as you swear, but you just set the mug down and laugh a little with him. "The coffee doesn't agree with me."

"Apparently not." He walks over to you and wraps his arms around you, resting his chin on the top of your head. Part of you hates the fact that he's tall enough to do this, but the other half absolutely loves it. "Are you okay?" he asks softly, and you feel your heart skip as he takes your hands in his.

"Yeah, it's fine," you breathe, smiling. "It'll take more than a cup of coffee to get me."

"I know." He presses a kiss to the top of your head and sighs. "Well I might as well start drinking coffee too, huh? I never used to but I can try."

You smile as Polnareff walks over to the coffee maker and squints at it for a moment, as if judging by its appearance whether he would like it. "Jean, I'm not making you take up coffee drinking. You don't have to if you don't want to."

"But I want to try!" he declares, and he decides to steal a sip of yours. He picks it up and quickly drinks a minuscule amount; almost immediately his face scrunches up. You snort as he sets the cup down, grimacing. "Maybe it's not for me."

"It figures you wouldn't like something so bitter," you say, a cheeky grin making its way onto your face. "You're just too sweet!" He groans loudly with a huge smile on his face as you wrap your arms around him. "I couldn't resist, sorry."

He sighs. "It's gonna take me a week to get over that one." You let go of him and sit down at the kitchen table with your coffee. "But I forgive you." You look down at the wooden table as you drink some more, while Polnareff looks through the cabinets for something to have for breakfast.

You haven't been sleeping very well for the past few months - ever since you got back from Egypt. Most nights you get a few hours, but sometimes you can't even bring yourself to close your eyes; whenever you do, you're plagued by images of the horrors you witnessed and the friends you lost. Kakyoin's strangled scream as he was killed plays almost constantly in your dreams, and the fact that Avdol hadn't even gotten a chance to say goodbye hurts more than anything. You shut your eyes and take a deep breath. Polnareff is going through the same thing, so you both spend a lot of time comforting each other, but it's still ridiculously hard. You're so, so, lucky that you have him, but not even he can keep you from falling into all those memories on some days. You clench your fists when you feel your eyes well up with tears; maybe this grief is never going to fade -

"Holy shit! When did you buy brownies?"

Polnareff's elated voice tears you from your thoughts, and you laugh loudly. He looks at you with wide, excited eyes. "Seriously! Did you know they're my favorite?"

"I know now."

"Let's make them," he says definitively.

You raise your eyebrows. "Jean, we haven't even had breakfast yet."

He looks from you to the brownies and back again. "...We could have brownies for breakfast...?"

God, you love him so much. With a laugh, you grab the box from him. "I'm not gonna argue with that." He grins and thanks you as you open up the box.

After a breakfast of slightly-burnt brownies, you and Polnareff spend the day around the house, fixing up the yard and rearranging some furniture. If someone had told you a month ago that you'd be living out this perfectly domestic life, you would've laughed out loud - but somehow, you found yourself in a cottage on the French countryside with the man you loved more than anyone in the world. Days just fly by, because you have so much fun being with him. It's honestly perfect.

Later in the day, you're in your bedroom reading when Polnareff steps into the room. He places his hands on your shoulders and leans down, kissing your cheek. "Hi," he murmurs.

You turn to face him and kiss him, wrapping your arm loosely around his torso. "Hey," you reply. "What's up?"

"I have a request, dear." He gently takes your hands and pulls you out of your chair with a gentle smile. "Put on the nicest outfit you have and meet me at the door."

You squint at him. "What's this about?"

He smiles. "It's a surprise!" You stare at him for a while longer; you know secrets only last about 30 seconds in Polnareff's brain. He finally relents, sighing and letting go of your hands. "I made a reservation at that restaurant you said you wanted to try."

"What?" You hug him tightly, grinning. "Thank you!"

"Of course." The softness of his voice makes you smile; he's just so sweet. "I figured since it's been three months of being together, we should celebrate!"

"Three months..." You lean back and look up at him, cracking a smile. "It's really been wonderful. I love being with you, Jean."

His eyes widen, and he slowly leans down and kisses your forehead. "Three perfect months with the perfect person," he murmurs.

He leaves to get ready, and you get ready yourself. Just thinking about all the wonderful gestures of love Polnareff showers you with makes you blush. Taking you to restaurants, showing you all the best parts of his hometown, the little hugs and kisses he gives you all throughout the day... He's truly a master of romance, that's for sure. He wins you over more and more every day.

You're ready to go, and you head for the door. Polnareff is waiting for you in a crisp button-down shirt and a nice pair of pants; he looks handsome every day but this is just ridiculous. When he sees you his eyes widen, and his mouth just barely turns up at the corners. He stares at you for a minute and then blinks, as if he's forgotten how to speak. "(Y/N), you're so beautiful," he says quietly, taking you in.

Your face flushes and you glance down, unable to hold his gaze. He takes a couple steps towards you and places his hand under your chin, guiding your face up to look at him. "I mean it," he tells you, and you know he does. His voice is so earnest and adoring and you feel your heart nearly burst from your chest. "I love you."

You stand on your toes and kiss him, wrapping your arms around his neck. As you part, you reach out and fix a strand of hair that had somehow fallen from its immaculate style. "I love you too, Jean," you say softly, as you briefly run your hand over his cheek. "Thank you for being with me."

He suddenly puts an abrupt end to the gentle moment by leaning in and giving you a loud kiss on the cheek. "The pleasure's all mine," he says with a warm laugh, and you snort, punching him in the arm. You can't imagine a life or a love that's better than this.

[heyhihellowhatsup0]

With Thin Walls...

Parings: Tom Holland x Female Reader

Summary: You and Tom have an amazing morning togeter after being away from each other for so long; only to discover you weren’t the only ones in the house...

Warnings: Smut, Teasing

Smut under the cut!

“Keep going…” you moaned out loudly, moving your hips into Tom’s as his free hand gripped the bed sheets beside you, “Fuck...Tom! Tommy…”

Heavy breaths, long dragged out moans, heightened senses. These were all just a few of the many things going on as you and Tom craved each other more and more.

Tom’s hips rolled into you slowly, wanting to keep his momentum going for as long as he possibly could. It had been a few weeks since he had last seen you, and he really wanted to make it up to you; right here, right now. 

Moaning Tom’s name again, but louder, you arched your back higher into him as your nails gently ran up his bare back, towards the nape of his neck. You pulled him closer to your lips, whimpering into a kiss as his thrusts grew deeper.

His hand reached his destination between your legs, beginning to circle your clit slowly and teasingly, pulling out more noises from you as he let out a grunt against your head, “Fuck, you sound so pretty,” he groaned as his teeth ran against your ear lobe to your sensitive spot. 

Continuing to slowly circle you, Tom let out a hiss as he pushed himself all the way inside of you, your warmth already making him twitch inside of you as he started to slowly thrust, pushing you further into the bed.

Your moans increased, getting louder and louder, “Shit, Tom...I’m close,” you warned, circling your hips into his as you clenched around his throbbing length as you pulled Tom close for more desperate kisses.

“Let it out for me, Y.N,” Tom moaned against her ear, thrusting and swirling her faster as his teeth grazed her earlobe. Your name falling from Tom’s lips over and over again with each and every thrust, 

Tom and you both reached your highs at the same time, your bodies surrendering to one another as you moaned out one another’s names in unison in between your sloppy, moany kisses.

Pulling in deep breaths, Tom rested his forehead up against your chest, “Wow,” He breathed out with a laugh, kissing your neck sloppily as you tried to catch your breath.

“I love you so much,” You breathed as you picked his head up to meet yours. Smiling into a kiss, deepening it as your fingers laced together, soft moans muffled against both of your lips.

“I love you more,” Tom reminded you, his thumb tracing over your lips slowly, “Breakfast?,” He asked with a smile as he climbed off of you, handing you his sweatshirt.

“As long as your cooking,” you retorted with a sassy look on your face. Tom returned the look with pursed lips as he threw on his favorite pair of grey sweatpants before heading into the kitchen.

“I don’t just make sweet, sweet love to my favorite woman ever without making her breakfast,” Tom teased you, sticking his tongue out as he grabbed the door.

And then, he was greeted by a loud roar of laughter in the kitchen.

Oh dear god, Tom thought to himself as he felt his ears begin to warm up, trying to avoid his blushing as you came up from behind him.

Tuwaine’s laugh was the loudest as you saw him come into view as you entered the kitchen, “He doesn’t just make sweet, sweet love, now does he?” Tuwaine asked in a fit of laughter, banging his fist on the table to stifle his loudness.

“Shut up, man,” Tom shook his head as his cheeks flushed of color. He turned to you, noticing the shy smile forming at your lips.

“I’ll shut up so you can hear those pretty sounds,” Harrison added, getting a high five from Tuwaine as they kept laughing, “How loud did you have to be?!” He asked the two of you.

Tom rolled his eyes, heading over to the coffee maker. He wasn’t mad, he was used to everyone busting chops. However, he never had it happen while you were around, and he wasn’t sure how you would take it. 

Tuwaine and Harrison continued their jokes and laughing harder than ever as the mimicked the two of your from behind the walls, clearly hearing everything you and Tom had done.

But Tom didn’t care. He wasn’t the least bit embarrassed. He knew this was how Tuwaine and Harrison would be, and Tom would probably do the same to either one of them if the opportunity came about. He just got to spent the most incredible morning with you, and to him it was all of the ridicule. 

“How many more shows will you guys be performing?” Tuwaine asked, taking a bite of his toast as he looked over at Tom’s reddening face with a huge grin on his face.

“Hey Y/N, this is the kitchen, pants are required,” Harrison chuckled, making you let out a small giggle at him. You had to admit, the whole busting chops thing was a little funny. At least your sense of humor was good enough to clap back at the two of them.

Grabbing a mug from the shelf, you poured yourself a cup of coffee where Tom was fixing himself a cup, “Funny, Haz, I don’t remember any pants on you that time whastername locked you out of your room and..” you trailed off, raising your eyebrow at him.

“Okay, okay!” Harrison cut you off, nearly spitting out his coffee, “Point made,” he shrugged as Tom started chuckling at your comment.

You narrow your eyes on Tuwaine with a smug smile, “You want to keep going? Or would you like me to tel Haz and Tom what you dress up as for your girlfriend when we’re not home,” you tried.

“You wouldn’t,” Tuwaine fought back.

You raised your eyebrow again in contest, “Oh, wouldn't I? ...Spider-Man?” You finally said with a smile.

Tom started dying of laughter, nearly dropping his coffee mug as Harrison’s shoulders shook in his fit, “Wh-what do you borrow Tom’s suit or something?” Harrison asked through his laughs.

“He doesn’t, do you?!” Tom asked, feeling tears from laughing so hard pricking his eyes.

“Oh she has jokes,” Tuwaine chuckled, bumping his fist against yours. He was as good spot about it just like you.

“She does,” you nodded with a smile. You grabbed you now ready coffee, lacing your fingers in with Tom’s, “And for the record, the only shows I do are for Tom,” you told them both while sticking your middle finger out at the two of them before heading back into Tom’s room.

“...And stay away from my suit, man,” Tom told Tuwaine as he walked out of the kitchen and following you back into his room. He was even more in love with you than ever from how you just told off his friends.

You set your coffee down, looking at Tom with a proud smile, “Maybe next time, don’t tell me to be so loud,” you said as you gave him a pointed look.

“I would, but I love those noises much too much to silence them,” Tom said, capturing you top lip slowly as you both could still hear the laughter from the kitchen, “Christ, will you two leave already?!” Tom shouted with a laugh before going back to your lips again.

[springday-aus]

BTS’s Namjoon: Plus Two || part one

—

Fic Piece Written by: Admin Grandma of @springday-aus​

Moodboard Link: Created By Admin Grandpa

Character Pairing: Y/N and BTS’s Kim Namjoon (RM)

Other Characters: BTS [Hoseok, Taehyung, Yoongi (barista!yoongi), Seokjin - others are mentioned briefly], Hyerin (EXID), Suho (EXO OT12), Moonbyul (Mamamoo), Eric Nam, Tiffany (SNSD), Irene (Red Velvet), and Jackson (GOT7) - along with their respective group members, who are involved as planners, partakers, and guests 

Genre: romance, comedy, officer worker!Namjoon, wedding date!au, friends to lovers!au 

Type: series [two parts]

part one || part two

Word Count: approx. 21.6k

Plot Summary: getting older is never easy, especially with all the weddings Namjoon has been attending. Fortunately for him, a run in with an old friend of his, i.e. you, makes all these weddings a bit more bearable. 

⤷ Alternatively: you and Namjoon keep running into each other, ultimately becoming unofficial wedding dates. Once it’s official, a couple of things start to change... such as the old flame that Namjoon thought he put out. 

→ Inspired by: the movie called Plus One—hence the creation of Plus Two!

Warnings: lots of drinking involved and cursing 

A/N: this accidentally became a slow burn fic, considering that I stretched out Namjoon’s pining to 21k words. 

October 25th, 2019

Friday, 10AM 

Lee Corporations

—

The clicks of computer keyboards fill the dead silence of the office floor. Everyone’s buried in their own paperwork and files, concerned about finishing their workload before the work day is over. Namjoon sits in his cubicle, reorganizing his spreadsheets and double checking the numbers. It’s taking longer than he originally wanted, but then again, computer games are designed for distractions. He checks his watch. It’s only been two hours and he’s already bored. Sure, he’s got enough work, but does he really want to do it? 

No, not really. 

He rubs his eyes, which he inwardly hopes might wake him up from this nightmare. Curse him for being practical and choosing to be a business major. Had he chosen a different path, he might have turned out happier—at least, he has a stable paycheck. By the end of the day, that’s all that really matters in this lifetime. 

A chime from his phone interrupts his thoughts on his extinctial crisis. He grabs his phone from his desk counter, as he stands up from his seat. Might as well grab another cup of coffee. He heads to the break room and immediately navigates himself into the corner, where the coffee maker rests. After plugging it in, he unlocks his phone and clicks on the latest notification—an email sent to his personal inbox.

You’re invited to celebrate the union of Seo Hyerin and Yoon Jae Jung! 

Date: November 16th 

Time: 11:15am for the ceremony, 8pm for the reception

Location: Crossroads Cathedral and Sweet Dreams Event Hall 

Please RSVP at XXX-XXX-XXXX or respond to the email! We hope to see you there! 

Huh, he hadn’t heard from Hyerin for a while—last thing he remembered was that she was enjoying her job as a translator and she was in a wonderful relationship, which is now blossoming into marriage. 

Good for her.

He doesn’t mean for it to sound as sarcastic as it does. It is good for her. As one of her close friends (close enough to get her wedding invitation at least), he’s glad she’s able to find someone who wants to share her life with. 

But it’s also a reminder that Namjoon hasn’t managed to do the same. He shuts his eyes and lets out a long sigh. It’s going to be really sad that he’s going to be there without a date of some sort, while others are most likely going to be there with dates. It’ll be nice to catch up with some of his old friends, but it’s also going to be a pain to have all those pity looks and the ‘don’t worry, you’ll find someone soon’ speeches. 

By the time he realizes he’s lost himself within his thoughts once again, the coffee is reheated and his phone screen has turned black. He moves his mug and slowly pours the dark liquid in. Namjoon’s ringtone breaks the silence. The image of Hoseok’s dog, Micky, flashes on his screen with the words, Dancing King. 

“What’s up, man?” Namjoon asks, as he pours a packet of sugar into his cup. 

“Hey! How’s my favorite businessman?” 

“Hoseok, I’m the only businessman you know.” 

“No! Wonsik is also a businessman.” 

“He’s a CEO of his own music company—while there is business associated, he’s still deemed as a musician in my book.” 

There’s a bit of silence and Namjoon can practically see Hoseok’s lips pulling back in disappointment. 

“Same difference,” Hoseok says through the line. “Anyways, did you see the invitation yet?” 

“Yeah, I saw it,” Namjoon says. “I just can’t believe Hyerin is already getting married.” 

“I know. It’s almost like we’re adults or something.” 

Namjoon rolls his eyes from Hoseok’s sarcastic comment, even though he can’t see it. “Are you bringing anyone?” 

“It’s too soon to see, but I might try to find a date—it’s just another wedding.” There’s a pause, with some muffled shuffling. “If not though, would you do the honor of being my date?” 

“You know, I might just take you up on that offer.” 

“Bet,” Hoseok says. “Well, the others are starting to come back from break. I’ll talk to you later?” 

“You know where I’ll be.” 

“Only from 9 to 5.” There’s another laugh from him through the phone. “Alright, bye!” 

“Bye.” 

He sets his phone down, staring mindlessly into his coffee as he waits for the sugar to dissolve. 

Well, on the bright side, he has a date to the wedding now. That one task marked off the list. 

November 16th, 2019

Saturday, 9PM 

Hyerin’s Reception 

Sweet Dreams Event Hall 

—

“I’ve known Hyerin for such a long time,” Hani says. “And I have seen so many sides of her. Even today, she continues to reveal new sides of her that are surprising to everyone. She’s smart; she’s classy; she’s fun-loving and she’s cute. Sure, everyone here might know her as the crazy one in this group. But that craziness is part of her charm—which I’m sure Jae Jung has experienced at least once or twice by now.” 

The crowd laughs, as Hani tips her glass towards the couple. She gives another dazzling smile to them and continues. “Nevertheless, that craziness is what’s going to make life more entertaining for you. Some may say marriage doesn’t last, but I know you two will make it work. As one of Hyerin’s closest friends, I wish you two nothing more than a lifetime of happiness from one another. Congratulations, Hyerin and Jae Jung.”

There’s a light applause as Hani, the maid of honor, finishes her speech, which is followed by the taps of the guests’ champagne glasses. Hoseok and Namjoon’s glasses make a clink against the other, before they respectively clink their glasses with the other guests at their table. 

“Cheers.” 

“Cheers.” 

“Cheers.”

After taking a sip, Namjoon turns his attention back to his plate, which is cleared of food. 

“Hey,” he says with a nudge to Hoseok. “When did they say they were gonna cut the cake?” 

“I think they’re gonna cut it after a couple more courses.” 

“I’m so full.” Namjoon lightly pats his stomach. “I knew there was gonna be a lot of food, but I didn’t know it was going to be this much.” 

Hoseok lets out a laugh. “Hyerin’s got a bottomless pit for a stomach—you should have known she was going to have a lot of food.” 

Namjoon laughs with him. “Oh my God. How could I forget the buffet incident?”

Their conversation is interrupted by some feedback from the speakers. The crowd’s attention is turned back to the main table, where Hyerin stands with the microphone in hand and her new husband, Jae Jung, is trying to fix the veil that was caught on the back of her dress. 

“Hello everyone! Thank you so much for coming and joining us for this evening. Also, if we could give another hand to Hani for helping me arrange the whole thing—she really is the best. This night has been the most incredible.” There’s some more applause and, at the end of the main table, Hani stands once more with a smile and bows to the guest tables. 

Hyerin continues to talk once it dies down. “Um, we’re still coming around to the tables to properly greet and thank everyone for their support and gifts. The cake will be cut soon, but we still have two more courses left. Also, the bar remains open, if any adults need some more alcohol.” There’s a light laugh—Hoseok and Namjoon exchange looks of agreement to hit the bar after the meal. 

“And after the cake is cut, everyone is welcome to the dance floor.” She hands the mic to Jae Jung. 

“Hyerin and I will have our first dance and, after that, the party can officially start.” A guy in the back shouts a ‘woo’ and there’s scattered laughter. “Anyways, thank you again for coming in support of Hyerin and I. We hope you have a good time tonight.” 

There’s more applause and the couple resume to make their rounds to each table. The informal conversations begin once again as the guests wait for the next course to be served. Namjoon turns his attention back to Hoseok, who’s already engaged in conversation with a couple of people at the table. 

“So, how do you know the couple?” Minhyuk asks. 

“Ah, Hyerin and I went to the same dance academy,” Hoseok says. “We’ve been friends for, like, 10 years now. We all still talk so…” He gives a light shrug with an eased smile. 

Minhyuk looks over at Namjoon unexpectedly, who freezes for a bit from the eye contact, before answering. “Oh, I met Hyerin through Hoseok actually,” he says. “We had a couple of classes together and were in a couple of study groups together in college and…” He pauses. “Here we are. How do you know her?” 

“I was friends with her back in high school,” Minhyuk says. “A lot of people thought we were dating, so it’s a whole inside joke between us—especially since I got invited to her wedding.” 

“That’s funny,” Namjoon says. “But, wow. You kept in contact after high school?” 

“Yeah, thanks to the creation of cell phones and, as you already know.” He pauses. “Hyerin is very sociable, so it’d be hard to not keep contact.” 

“Speaking of which,” Hoseok says. “There’s a lot of people here. Their guest list is huge.” 

“I have a feeling there’s more of Hyerin’s friends than Jae Jung,” Namjoon says with a small laugh. 

“I’d place my bet on that,” Minhyuk says. His attention is diverted towards the servers that were coming out to serve the fifth course, making more conversation with the others at the table. 

“That’s a safe bet,” Hoseok says to Namjoon. “I’ve seen nearly everyone from dance camp.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah.” Hoseok takes another look around. “I saw Hyemi as we were coming in and Sanghyuk is just a couple of tables away.” He pokes his head up, sitting up straighter to get a more clear look around. “I should catch up with him in a bit.” 

“Maybe you two can meet on the dance floor,” Namjoon says with a laugh. “That’d be an interesting scene.” 

“Well, there is an open bar.” 

Namjoon can only give Hoseok a warning look, to which he gets a mischievous one in return. He can only sigh in response, but he can’t help to chuckle. He’s known Hoseok for so long that he knows he can’t stop one of his shenanigans. 

He resumes his attention back to his plate, where a small scoop of brightly colored sorbet sits in a little bowl. 

“It’s cute,” Hoseok says. “We get ice cream before the cake.” He does a little dance with his shoulders, beaming with his pearly whites. 

“First of all,” Namjoon says. “I think you’ve had enough sugar. I’m afraid of what’ll happen once the alcohol starts to take effect as well. Secondly, it’s sorbet and it’s supposed to refresh your palate.” 

“Ah, Namjoon,” Hyerin says. “Smart as always.” The entire table centers their focus on the newlyweds, who’ve approached them from behind. Light cheers erupt from the other guests and Namjoon gives her a big, toothy grin. 

“I was just wondering when you two were gonna get to our table,” Il Woo says from across the table. 

Hyerin laughs. “I’m trying my best to get to all the tables, but, in hindsight, we do have too many friends.” 

“To be honest,” Jae Jung says. “We had to cut down the list, like, twice.” 

“Finding a venue to fit everyone was easier than cutting down the list. Who knew?” Hyerin makes a face, which Hoseok responds to with one of his. The two start to go around the table, individually catching up with others and filling the guest’s glasses as they chat—eventually getting to Hoseok and Namjoon. 

“Are you two finally dating?” Hyerin teases.

“As much as I like Hoseok,” Namjoon says. “Seokjin is more of my type.” He looks over at Hoseok, who pouts. 

Hoseok turns away with bitterness. “That’s fine, I like Yoongi better anyways.” 

“It’s nice to see that you two haven’t changed,” Hyerin says. “Thank you for coming—the both of you.” 

“It’s no problem,” Hoseok says. “We’re your friends.” 

“We’re here to support you.” Namjoon says. 

“You two are just as sweet as I remember,” she says with a bright smile. She taps her glass with theirs. “Cheers.” 

“Cheers.” 

“Cheers.” 

Hoseok and Namjoon take their respective sips, while Hyerin drowns hers down. 

“Damn,” Hoseok says. “Your tolerance hasn’t changed since college.” 

“We’ll see with how tonight goes,” Hyerin says. “I think the others’ have lowered, so watch out when they all head to the bar.” 

“You mean like now?” Namjoon asks. 

“What?”

Namjoon points a finger towards the wall where glass shelves hold many colorful bottles of wine, liquor, and juices to mix with the alcohol. A bartender mixes the drinks to the best of her abilities to fill the four glasses set on the counter. Hyerin’s bridesmaids lean on the countertop, shouting “shots” repeatedly. 

“Oh dear God,” Hyerin says. She shuffles with her dress, grabbing as much of it as she can, and attempts to run over towards them. “Y’all!! Couldn’t you have waited until the elders left!?! Wait for me!” 

Jae Jung hurriedly follows after her. “Honey! Be careful with the dress, you could trip!” 

After they ran off, Hoseok and Namjoon could no longer hold in their laughter. 

“That’s one way to exit a conversation,” Namjoon says with another sip of his champagne. “They really haven’t changed since college.” He lets out another laugh. “Who else do you think is here?” 

“Honestly, knowing Hyerin,” Hoseok says. “I have no clue.” 

They get back to their plates and converse with the others at the table. Hyerin has made many friends after graduating, Namjoon notes. Then again, she’s always been very friendly with others, which is how Namjoon was able to easily get along with her. 

As the conversations go, the last course, along with the cake, is served and the dance floor is officially open. Once 10pm hit, Hyerin and Jae Jung led their first dance. Everyone slowly started to join in and then the songs were transitioning to a faster pace, in which the elderly started to take their leave. Good timing too because the alcohol started to set in and no one had any resistance left. 

Hoseok has officially abandoned Namjoon to steal the leftover party favors on empty tables (at this point, he’s openly stealing rather than sneaking them into his pockets). Namjoon remains at the, now, empty table and empty plate—observing the other guests who have made a home for themselves on the dance floor. 

Hyojin’s alcohol tolerance is officially met as she twerks on the dance floor. Hyerin and Hoseok’s dance friends, Hyemi and Sanghyuk, have officially engaged in a full-fledged dance battle. Meanwhile, one of the bridesmaids, Solji, has another, Junghwa, on one arm to pull her away from any physical object she could flirt with (to which Namjoon has been a victim) and, in the other arm, she holds a svedka bottle that’s already half empty. In another corner, from Namjoon’s table, Minhyuk has helped himself to the rest of the uncut cake with a serving spoon. 

Amidst the chaos, Namjoon stays at the table, taking in the atmosphere with the disco lights and fast-paced radio hip-hop songs. He nods along with the music, mouthing along with the lyrics. As much as he would love to join the others, he knows he would most likely break something of his, or someone else’s. 

He checks his watch and glances around, wondering as to how far Hoseok had gotten with the party favors. Just as he was about to start his search, Rihanna’s Umbrella starts to play and that’s when he hears Hoseok before he can see him. 

“BITCH! THIS IS MY JAM!” 

Namjoon has to close his eyes from embarrassment of being his date, but then something saves him. 

“BITCH, ME TOO. MOVE!” 

“HANNA AND (Y/N) IN THE BUILDING, EH EH EH.” 

Well, nevermind. 

The crowd parts like the red sea, allowing Hoseok and two familiar looking figures to meet in the middle—each person nodding along to the melody and waving their arms in the air. As if it was a karaoke meet, everyone sings aloud, along to the music. 

“You have my heart. And we’ll never be worlds apart. Maybe in magazines… but you’ll still be my star…” 

 Namjoon smiles at the sight. Hoseok and Hanna are doing their own thing, ignoring the little bags that fall out from Hoseok’s pockets that were, technically, stolen from the other tables. You blend into the crowd, swaying to the melody with Hani on one arm. 

“Because~ When the sun shines, we shine together. Told you I’ll be here forever. Said I’ll always be your friend. Took an oath, Imma stick it out to the end. Now that it's raining more than ever, know that we’ll have each other. You can stand under my umbrella… You can stand under my umbrella, ella, ella, eh, eh, eh…”

Namjoon makes eye contact with you. Your eyes widen, surprised from seeing him. With your free arm, you wave him over—to which he can only shake his head, passing up the opportunity of embarrassing himself in front of his old college friends. 

You pull yourself away from the crowd and head towards his direction, eventually taking the empty seat next to him. Without a word, you reach over and grab a champagne glass from the other side, drowning it down in one shot. 

“Ahh,” you breathe out. You point to his glass and the remaining alcohol that glistens from the disco lights. Without another word, Namjoon hands it over to you. He can only watch, as you drown down that glass as well. 

“Well,” he says. “It’s nice to see you too, (Y/N).” 

“Sorry,” you say. “That glass looked too appealing.” 

He lets out another light laugh with a shake of his head. “Seriously though, it’s nice to see you.” 

You hum. “How long has it been? Couple of years?” 

“Yeah, it’s been a bit of time,” Namjoon says. “Glad to see you haven’t changed too much.”

“Glad to see you haven’t either.” You pause, looking back at his, now empty, glass. “Still have a low tolerance?” 

“You already know the answer to that, so why bother asking?” 

“Just ‘cause it’s fun to hear you admit you’re a little baby when it comes to drinking.”

“Ugh, this is just because you were able to build a tolerance from all that bar hopping.” 

“We both did that bar hop.” You scan him with a glint in your eyes. “Something clearly went something wrong.” 

You both laugh. With another nudge towards him, you speak up again. “How’ve you been? Still working at the office?” 

“Yeah, I’m officially a manager.” He rubs the back of his neck. 

“You still making music?” 

“Every now and then,” he says. “Whenever I get the time, I do.” 

You let out a little laugh, grabbing another glass of champagne. “I remember all those tracks you made. Shame that your mixtape never released.” 

“Oh my God.” Namjoon has to close his eyes. “Please never bring that up again.” 

“Why not? They were great.” You take a sip of the glass. “I still have your Soundcloud page bookmarked.” 

Namjoon rubs his face with his face becoming more and more flushed, but he can’t hide his growing smile. “Oh my God, (Y/N).” 

You give him another teasing one in return. “Remember when you used to try to promote yourself on the quad—” 

“Oh my God, (Y/N)—”

You let out another laugh from his red face. Namjoon shuffles his feet and his eyes dart around, trying to find a drink for his, suddenly, dry throat. As if you read his mind, you tip your glass towards him—offering him the rest of your drink. He takes it and takes a small sip, clearing his throat afterwards.

“Anyways,” Namjoon says. “What have you been up to?” 

“Oh, you know. Same old, same old.” You pause. “You act like you didn’t like my Instagram post two nights ago. You also DM me memes, dude.” 

“Yeah, but that’s different from actually talking to you and catching up.” Namjoon rests a hand on his chest, in mock-hurt. “I’ve been sending those since college and you still don’t appreciate them?”

You roll your eyes but it’s with no malice. “For your information, more is not less. Less is less.”

“Is this your way of telling me to lessen the meme content in our messaging?” 

“Yes.” 

“Damn, that’s harsh.” 

You let out another laugh as he pouts in his seat. “Sorry, Joonie.” 

Your conversation is interrupted, as Hyemi shouts your name from across the room. “(Y/N)! I’M PUTTING ON BRITTNEY, BITCH.” 

“AYY!” You immediately get up from your seat, dancing your way over back to the dance floor. As Hyemi pulls you away, you look back towards Namjoon and give him a little finger wave. “I’ll see you sometime, okay?” 

He smiles back with a small nod, just quick enough for you to see, before you get pulled into the crowd once again. 

December 3nd, 2019

Tuesday, 6PM 

Shoreside Condos

—

Another chime comes from Namjoon’s email. He continuously types, re-organizing and triple checking the calculations of his spreadsheets. 

He sits on the couch with multiple sheets of paper which lay on the unoccupied space of the table and couch, in some type of clean mess. In the background, his flat screen plays a film from some movie channel that he stopped paying attention to a while ago. His only company, Rapmon, lays on the carpet near Namjoon’s feet—practically blending himself into the white, soft texture. The keyboard clicks continue for a couple more minutes, before he decides to check his email. 

Hello Mr. Kim, 

How are you this evening? I am sending this email to let you know there are some adjustments that need to be made to the reports. Below, I have some attachments for you to check. 

Please let me know once they are completed. Have a good evening. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. 

Sincerely, 

Bang Sihyuk 

-- 

Head Manager of the Big Hit Management Team 

Lee Corporations 

Namjoon lets out a sigh. Guess it’s more work for him. Jokes on Bang though—he didn’t give him a deadline. Loopholes are a wonderful thing. 

He shuffles with the papers on the table, trying to find the remote. Once it’s spotted, he lowers the volume. He looks at the overall mess, ultimately deciding it’s better to clean it up, somewhat. As he pushes some of them back into their manila folders, he hears a whine. 

With a scratch behind Rapmon’s ears, Namjoon gives him a little kiss. “You hungry, baby?” Namjoon gives a small smile, as Rapmon pants. “I’ll get some food for my good boy.” 

He lifts himself from the sofa, already abandoning his clean-up attempt. Rapmon bounces alongside with him and they head into the kitchen area. Opening one of the lower cabinets, he easily pulls out the dog food and puts it into the doggy bowl.

Leaning on the countertop, he looks down adoringly at his pupper. “I should probably get something to eat too.” He pats his stomach. “It’s been empty.” 

He pushes himself off and shuffles over to the refrigerator. However, a white card, decorated with lace, catches his attention. He sighs, plucking the card off the refrigerator magnet. 

Join us for the union of Minyoung and Junmyeon! 

January 11th, 2020 @ 5PM

Location: Sowon Temple 

—

Black tie dress. 

Reception to follow! 

See you there! 

Namjoon lets out another sigh, but from the migraine that formed. He’s gonna have to text Taehyung—maybe they can go wedding gift shopping together. Considering how much Taehyung spends, Namjoon is sure to balance out that…. Taehyung-ness. 

He grabs out his phone, sliding it open to his messages. 

Namjoon: yo, did you get a present for Junmyeon yet? 

The reply is nearly instant and comes all at once. 

Tata: oh shit 

Tata: i forgot 

Tata: shall we go shopping soon ? 

Namjoon: you read my mind 

Tata: it’s like we’re soulmates 

Tata: :) 

Namjoon: …. okay 

Tata: i love you :*

Namjoon: and you have now made it weird 

Namjoon: but ily too 

Tata: i’m screenshotting this for the groupchat

Namjoon: and goodbye

He shakes his head, silently laughing at Taehyung’s responses. He’ll make those plans later, once he’s got some more time. It’ll be fun to spend some more time with Tae. It’s been a couple of weeks since they’d hung out. While their time at the ice rink was fun, they spent more time struggling than skating together (well, at least Taehyung was the one struggling). 

But, right now, he’s got more work dumped on him. And he’s hungry. 

Rapmon looks up at him as Namjoon looks down at him. “Don’t look at me like that.” Namjoon opens the fridge without breaking eye contact. “This is for me. You got your bowl, buddy.”

January 11th, 2020 

Saturday, 7PM 

Junmyeon’s Reception 

Enchanted Evenings Restaurant 

—

“Although I am the oldest of our group,” Minseok says. “Junmyeon has taken care of me ever since I became friends with him. I’m sure that everyone in this room, who knows Junmyeon, knows that he has this thing where he cares more for others rather than himself. He’s the mother figure that everyone wants in their lives and we were lucky enough to have him as ours. But now, he’ll finally have someone to care for him this time around, for the rest of his life.” 

He turns to the main table and raises his glass. “I would like to dedicate this toast to Mi Young, on behalf of the exo boys. Thank you for putting up with all of us.” The crowd chuckles. “ And congratulations to the both of you, for finding someone who will faithfully look after you no matter what. Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

“Cheers.” 

Everyone respectfully clicks their glasses together, taking a sip and going back to their meals and their own little conversations. Namjoon looks up from his glass, seeing Taehyung across the table—chatting away with the other guests. Tae fits well with the others, despite looking out of place in his patterned suit (“It’s Gucci. I have taste,” Taehyung said, when he was picking up Namjoon).

Namjoon glances to the right… where you are seated. You happily drown your glass down, letting out an exhale from the refresher. 

You turn to him. “Do you think I’m allowed to drink more?” you ask. 

“(Y/N),” Namjoon says. “I think it’s better for everyone if you didn’t drink more.” 

You pout. 

Namjoon tries not to stare. 

“You, my friend,” you say with a point of your finger, poking his chest. “Need to loosen up.” You shake your empty glass at him. “What better way than with alcohol?” 

“Have you become an alcoholic? Is that what this is?” 

“Haha, oh so funny as always, Joonie.” 

“You know I try,” he says with a grin. 

He sets down the glass, turning his attention back to his plate—on it lies a pile of chopped lobster topped with little scraps of gold, which is paired with fresh caviar and foie gras sauce on the side. Everything looks so good that it practically glistens in the chandelier light coming from above the table. 

While there are many guests, the venue is actually very spacious. Each table has a good amount of space that the chairs don’t bump into one another when pushed out. And yet, there’s still a large amount of space dedicated to a multicolored dance floor (which has Baekhyun and Jongin written all over it, Namjoon notes). 

Even without the tables, anyone could tell it’s decorated tastefully. Above each table, there’s various lights that provide a nice atmosphere for the guests. The ceiling itself is painted plain white, but if anyone looks close enough there’s little specks of gold that shine against the light. In contrast to the ceiling, the walls were covered with wallpaper. The wallpaper is also white with gold accents, but there are also pearls that popped out of the walls—quite literally popped out. The kids who came with their parents have been feeling up the wall for the past hour or two. 

Namjoon knew the wedding would be boujee, since it is Junmyeon’s, but he’d almost forgotten about how loaded Junmyeon’s family actually is. 

“Who knew my most expensive meal would come from a wedding?” Go Eun says, from your other side. You let out a laugh. “It’s the Kim family, what more did you expect?” 

“I don’t know,” she says. “Maybe something corny.” 

“Honey, we’re past corny when we walked through those balloon arches.” 

Go Eun blinks, slowly nodding along as she comes to the realization. “Ah, I guess I never got over the whole senior-junior view I had of him in school.” 

“He’s got that vibe; he seems like a chill mentor.” 

“But realistically speaking,” Namjoon pitches in. “We know that’s far from the truth.”

“Considering how he dances to any Sistar song like (Y/N) to Hit Me Baby One More Time,” Go Eun pauses. “I think all of the guests here know that.” 

“Damn,” you say. “You really had to attack me like that, huh?” 

She gives you an innocent smile that feels not-so-innocent. “Hyerin’s reception videos circulated. What else was I supposed to do with their information?” 

You give her a teasing one in return, before returning to your plate once more. 

There’s a moment of silence at the table as everyone is starting to dive into their meals, except for the silverware that taps the plates and bowls. As the plates start to get cleared, the chatter picks up once more—especially as the newlywed couple makes their way around with Junmyeon holding the train of Minyoung’s dress. Taehyung stirs up the commotion as he sees them making their way over. 

“Here comes the lucky couple!” 

From the sudden, informal announcement, everyone cheers with their glasses—both empty and full—for the newlyweds. 

Junmyeon tucks a strand of Minyoung’s hair back with one hand and, with the other, he holds a glass filled with champagne that’s already lost its bubbles. “Thank you for coming, everyone. We really appreciate your presence here.” 

“It’s no problem,” Namjoon says. “We’re glad to be here.”

“We hope you like our presents!” Taehyung practically yells. “If you don’t, then deal with it because we lost the receipts.” He gives them one of his boxy smiles. 

Everyone gives a light-hearted laugh at Junmyeon’s face. 

“Is everyone okay?” Minyoung asks. She stands behind you and Namjoon, laying a hand on your shoulder. “Is the food good?” 

“Minyoung, this one plate is about the equivalent of my first year tuition,” Yeri says, looking at her. “The food is more than just good.” 

“Don’t worry,” you say, giving Minyoung’s hand a pat. “Everything is great.” 

She lets out an exhale. “I was just a bit concerned because Junmyeon decided the meals without me.” 

“Honey,” Junmyeon says. “The meals turned out great. (Y/N) agrees.” He turns to the rest of the table. “You guys are going to love the dessert.” 

“What’s for dessert?” Yunho asks, from one side of the table. 

“It’s a Golden Opulence Sundae,” Junmyeon says with a beam. 

“It’s got edible diamonds and a sugar forged orchid,” Namjoon whispers to you. “It was super trendy a couple of years ago, but it doesn’t mean the price went down.” 

Your eyes widen. “Goddamn,” you mouth to him. 

“Yeah, he went a bit overboard,” Namjoon says. 

Junmyeon pouts at Namjoon’s words and Minyoung pinches his cheek. Minho makes a gagging noise and Yunho has to hit him to get him to stop. 

“Anyways,” Minyoung says, pouring another glass for you and Namjoon. “Let’s enjoy the evening with a drink—cheers.” 

“Cheers.” 

“Cheers.” 

Around the table, everyone respectively tap their glasses against one another—Namjoon with you and Minho, you with Namjoon and Go Eun. 

“We would love to stay, but we need to get to the other guests,” Junmyeon says. 

“But,” Minyoung says. “Stay as long as you would like. Desert is coming and the cake will be cut soon after. So, please enjoy yourselves—at the table, on the dance floor, the pool out back—” 

“There’s a pool?” Heechul asks from the other side of the table. 

“Yeah, the doors will officially be open after thirty minutes or so,” Minyoung says. “Anyways, mingle and have fun. We’ll be around.”

“Enjoy yourselves, okay?” Junmyeon says with another smile. With his hand on her lower back, he guides her towards the other table behind yours. 

“They’re so cute,” you say with a pout. “I’m glad to see Minyoung with someone good for her.” 

“Same,” Namjoon says. “I haven’t seen Junmyeon this happy since…” He tries to think. 

“Since Sehun paid that one time for dinner?” 

Namjoon’s eyes light up. “Yeah!” He takes another sip of his glass. “I almost forgot about that.” 

“I couldn’t,” you say. “You don’t ever forget it if Sehun pulls out his wallet for you.” 

“Yeah, he only pulls out his wallet for Vivi,” Namjoon notes. “Big mood though.” 

You laugh. 

Everyone gets back to their plates, which now has the dessert and the reception goes on. The conversation flows, between all the guests—at their assigned tables, along with the other tables. Siwon visited Namjoon’s table on many occasions, just because of Yunho and Minho’s seats. Although, Namjoon will admit that their conversations are very impressive (many topics related around politics and social injustices in modern society, which was very impressive to be honest). 

The time continues to pass, but it’s hard to tell with all the conversation going on. While Namjoon is more introverted, he has been very engaged in many conversations with others—especially with you. It had only been about a year or two since you two had actually talked, caught up and all that good stuff. 

You two originally met in college, in one of your classes together—after all, the study group that suffers together, stays together. While Namjoon majored in business, you had actually studied what you wanted. Your drive and extrovertedness balanced with Namjoon’s realism and introvertedness, which created, what you believe to be, an iconic duo on campus (at least with your friends). 

While it is inevitable for people to lose touch after college, you were easily able to keep the connections. With the help of social media, you reached out and managed to keep contact with your close knit group of friends—including Namjoon and many others from college (and probably high school). 

Unfortunately for Namjoon, this also means reminders of the uni days—both good and bad (as previously mentioned: the mixtape promos on the quad)... 

“Expensive Girl was a fucking bop and you know it,” you say, scooping another spoonful of your ice cream. “What did you do with all of those CDs anyways?” 

Namjoon groans, wiping his face as if it’ll get rid of the embarrassment from the olden days. “Honestly, they’re probably in a box somewhere and collecting dust.” 

“Come on,” you say. “You have to admit that those songs were actually really impressive.” You smile at him. “You were really creative. What happened?” 

He sighs, setting down his, now empty, wine glass. “Nothing happened, (Y/N).” He pauses. “Real life just got into the way and… next thing I knew, I stopped making songs.” 

The look in your eyes softens. “Namjoon, you’re one of the most creative people I know,” you say. You lay a hand on his that rests on the table. 

His eyes land on yours. You continue. “You should do what you enjoy, while balancing out the realistic picture.” Your other hand pokes his chest once more. “You, of all people, should know that. Remember what happened sophomore year?” 

Ah, sophomore year. From what Namjoon remembers, you originally came into college undecided. It wasn’t until the beginning of sophomore year that you figured out what you wanted to do. (“Seeing you so driven about your music makes me more driven towards what I want to do,” you said to him. “Even if I suffer to the destination, my happiness afterwards is the most important to me and my future.”)  

Namjoon sighs once more, but it’s more of frustration towards himself rather than exhaustion. He can only say one thing. “Being an adult is hard.” 

You laugh at his statement—your hand unmoving from his, another thing Namjoon tries not to focus on, but he can’t because of the warmth of your hand. Yes, while the two of you are friends, if he said he never had non-platonic feelings for you would definitely be a lie. 

The tap of the mic interrupts his thoughts and the conversations start to simmer down once more. In the front, Junmyeon and Minyoung stand side by side. Minyoung is in a different wedding dress but it’s been shortened and paired with some white flats. Junmyeon’s jacket has been removed and his tie is loosened. 

“Hello?” Minyoung says. “Can everyone hear me?” Her smile grows, as she meets everyone’s eyes and nods. “While people have been able to enter the pool area, it’s officially been thirty minutes since dessert was served.”

“With that,” Junmyeon says. “The pool is officially open, along with the dance floor. We’re allowing song requests, along with karaoke mics. So, go wild.” 

“YEAH!” Chanyeol, Baekhyun and Jongdae simultaneously shout. 

Junmyeon immediately retracts his statement. “Not too wild!” Despite that warning, everyone knows it’s already too late. 

Jongin, Taemin, and Ten are the first ones to enter the dance floor as the music starts. Everyone easily joins in to circle around them and chaos starts to ensue, making space for the elderly to start to leave. As the other guests start to migrate towards the colorful tiles on the dance floor, the younger ones are more on the antisocial side—Yeri joins the table with Mark, Renjun, and her other university friends that were invited as well (considering that most of them can’t legally drink). Meanwhile, Yunho, Minho and Siwon continue their political conversations in another corner as their glasses are consistently refilled by the servers. 

At some point, Sehun simply puts on his sunglasses and holds a bright yellow floatie in one arm (“Sehun, we’re indoors,” Luhan says. “Your point?” he retorts). He walks past your table, saying something about how he needed the hot tub and a bottle of bubbly after this chaotic week—although, the nearly empty strawberry flavored vodka in his hand said a lot more about his lack of current sobriety. 

Meanwhile, you were long gone to the dance floor, being pulled in by Yuri and Hyoyeon. Go Eun was right; something just flips when Hit Me Baby One More Time plays. Namjoon remains at the table, watching the others continuously mingle and dance, as he engages in conversation with Jaebum and Taehyung. 

“You two came together?” Jaebum asks. 

“Yeah,” Taehyung says. “We went shopping together for Suho’s gift and he had no choice because he can’t drive,” Taehyung jabs a thumb towards Namjoon, who’s jaw drops. 

The audacity. 

“I suddenly miss Hoseok as my date,” Namjoon says. 

“It’s nice you all kept in touch,” Jaebum says, ignoring Namjoon’s pettiness. “It’s hard to do that nowadays.” 

“It really is,” Namjoon responds. 

Jaebum and Taehyung nod alongside him in response. At this moment, Baekhyun, Chanyeol and Jongdae are walking past them with black buckets to which splashes could be heard with each movement. 

“Hey guys!” Taehyung calls. 

Baekhyun turns towards the table and the three make their way to Namjoon and them. “Hey, Tae! Long time no see,” he says. “Nice to see you two again, thanks for coming,” Baekhyun says to Namjoon and Jaebum. “Did anyone wanna come to the pool?” 

Namjoon and Jaebum shake their heads. “I didn’t bring a swimsuit,” Namjoon says. 

“Same,” Jaebum says. “I forgot about it.” 

“Okay, good,” Chanyeol says. “Because you won’t want to swim in it later.” 

“What?” Jaebum asks. 

“We’re dying it pink,” Jongdae says. Their eyebrows raise in curiosity, but no one dares to ask. “Although, I think Kyungsoo has been catching on.” Jongdae’s eyes dart around, trying to catch sight of the short, but frightening man. 

“I’m sorry,” Jaebum says. “Not to be that guy, but, where’s your wife?” 

“She passed on the wedding invitation, so she’s at home with our daughter,” Jongdae says. His head tilts to the side and his eyes narrow. “Why?” 

“Just trying to understand why you left the house without your impulse control,” Jaebum responds with a smile. 

Jongdae pouts, but it’s ignored. 

“Wanna join?” Baekhyun asks. He has an innocent smile on, but his eyes are full of mischievousness. 

“I'll pass,” Namjon says with a raised hand. “But thanks for the offer.” 

“Same,” Jaebum says. “I don’t plan on messing with Kyungsoo.” 

“I’ll go with,” Taehyung says. “It’ll be interesting to see how all of this’ll unfold.” 

He waves the other two goodbye and points to Namjoon. “Text me if you want to leave early, but I’ll be at the pool, okay?” 

Namjoon nods. “Please be careful.” 

“Always!” 

Jaebum waits until they’re an earshot away. “I have a bad feeling about this.” 

Namjoon can only shrug. “But can you stop them?” 

“You got a point there.” 

From the other side of the venue, there’s a crash, followed by a splash, coming from the pool area and a yell louder than the music (which could only be Kyungsoo). 

“YOU BRATS!”

“Well,” Namjoon says. “They lasted longer than I thought.” 

Jaebum checks his watch. “Two minutes?” 

“Exactly.” 

No one is really sure of what happened with the dye (except for those who were actually in the pool). But it’s hard to concentrate on that when, out of the pool area, Jinki and Kibum emerge from the door with pool noodles, attacking one another with them with unnatural, pink frosted tips. Kyuhyun and Johnny are attempting to separate them, but are seemingly failing to do so. Jinki’s pool noodle hits Johnny, knocking him into a vase—luckily, he manages to catch it before it falls. 

… That is until Ten knocks into him as he shakes his ass along to Shakira’s Hips Don’t Lie. 

“Oof,” Jaebum says. “That’s… that’s rough, bro.” 

“Hopefully, no one notices?” 

“Hopefully.” 

Another server comes around, silently filling their glasses once more. 

“Thank you.” 

“Thank you.” 

They clink their glasses together in a silent toast and take a sip. Jaebum sighs, leaning back to his (well, your) seat. He takes another glance at the dance floor, spotting Heechul and Momo dancing their asses off. You would think that as dates they would be dancing together, but it looks more like they’re competing. Eventually, he spots you with some of the others. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t come here with (Y/N),” he says. 

Namjoon’s eyebrows raise. “What? What’d you mean?”

“I just mean..” He pauses. “It’s not bad that you two are friends,” he starts. “But, I was betting you two would be together… or, at least, in college.” 

Namjoon doesn’t know what to say, but Jaebum continues. “You two just had a lot of chemistry, and still do!” He pauses. “Not a lot of people can say that.” 

He nods. “Yeah, you’re right.” Namjoon looks out, easily spotting you from the crowd. It’s hard not to notice you as you twirl and dance around with some other guests—especially since someone managed to get you into a duck floatie. 

“I think it’s (Y/N) though,” he continues to say. “(Y/N)’s just sociable and… that outgoingness just makes people surround (Y/N).” 

“Is that what led you to (Y/N)?” 

From Jaebum’s question, Namjoon’s lips automatically pursed. “I-I guess it is.” 

Before Jaebum could say anything else, Give It To Me by Sistar starts to play and there’s a shout. 

“YES!” 

Before anyone could stop him, Junmyeon shimmies his way past the guests and towards the center—loudly singing along and doing all the dance moves. 

Without either one of the boys noticing, Minyoung stands behind them with another champagne flute that’s half empty. 

“Why hello, Mrs. Kim,” Jaebum says, looking rather cheeky. 

“Hello boys.” 

“So, Mrs. Kim,” Namjoon says. “What are you going to do about that?” he asks, pointing to the monstrosity that’s happening underneath the multi-colored disco ball.

“Uh, I don’t know,” she says. She swirls her glass and drowns it down. “Because I suddenly don’t know him anymore.” 

They laugh. 

“Well, that’s your husband now,” Namjoon says. “That’s all on you.” With those words, he tilts his glass towards his mouth, emptying it out once more for the night. 

January 27th, 2020 

Monday, 8AM 

The Roasted Bean

—

The sound of chatter and the smell of coffee fill the air as Namjoon steps into the familiar coffee shop. While some of his fellow co-workers sit at separate tables, typing away on their laptops and drinking from their espresso cups, they all collectively ignore his presence—too preoccupied with their own matters. His body automatically places himself in line; his head poking up every once in a while to get a glance of Yoongi behind the counter. 

Since it is early and they are located in the business district of the city, Namjoon expected for the line to be fairly long. As the time continues to pass, Namjoon quietly hums along to the songs that play on the morning radio, occasionally nodding along with the beat. He gets closer and closer, eventually giving a smile at the frowning barista. 

“How are you doing that?” Yoongi asks. “It’s, like, dawn.” 

“It’s eight in the morning,” Namjoon points out. “Not exactly dawn.” 

He brushes the comment off. “You’re here earlier than usual. What happened to 9 to 5, Dolly Parton?” 

“Nothing really,” he says with a shrug. “I just have some extra work to do and I should be able to leave an hour earlier.” 

Yoongi makes a face with nothing short of disgust. “I still don’t understand how you’re able to just go to work like that.” 

“You’re at work though.” 

“Okay, but here, I get free coffee.” 

“Isn’t that stealing?” 

“Not if I mess up,” he says with a wink. “Speaking of messing up orders, how can I mess up yours?” 

“The usual is fine,” Namjoon says. “Thanks, Yoongi.” He gets a grunt in response, so he takes that as his cue to head over to the side where the stirrers, creamers, and sugar lay. As he absentmindedly fiddles with the sugar packets, he goes back to humming along with the songs. 

A tap on his shoulder interrupts his thoughts. A familiar grin greets him. 

“I thought that was you,” you say. 

His smile mirrors yours. “Hey, (Y/N). I almost didn’t recognize you in the daylight.” 

“And I almost didn’t recognize you without alcohol in my system.” 

Namjoon laughs. “What are you doing here?” 

“You’re asking me what I’m doing in a coffee shop?” 

He gives you a look. “You know what I mean.” 

You let out a laugh of your own. “Well, I just was visiting my friend, who works down the street, and I heard this place has the best coffee.” 

His eyebrows raise. “Well, consider me pleasantly surprised.” 

“Thanks?” You let out another laugh, smiling as you move yourself towards him, along with the sugars and creamers. 

You both end up fiddling with the little packets, nodding along to the music together silently. Namjoon glances towards you, eventually nudging you to get your attention again. You hum in response. 

“You still prefer the french vanilla creamer?” 

“Yes, sir,” you say. You pluck it from his hands with a twinkling look in your eyes. 

He glances over again, catching your eye. He lets out an awkward chuckle. “What?” 

“Nothing,” you sing. “I just can’t believe you still remembered that.” 

“Considering how we spent most of our college years over-caffeinated,” he says. “It’s safe to say I remember it.” 

“Over-caffeinated?” You think for a moment. “Sounds about right.” You pause for a moment. “Oh!” 

Namjoon slightly jumps from your random shout, which you do apologize for. 

“Sorry.” You put a hand on his arm with a not-so-innocent smile. “I just remembered: are you going to Moonbyul’s wedding?” 

He thinks. It had been a while since he received the invitation, but he definitely remembers getting it. “Yeah,” he says, after a moment. “Yeah, Jin and I are planning on going together.” 

“Still can’t drive?” you ask with a mischievous twinkle in your eyes. 

“You know what,” he says. “I can’t and there’s no problem with me not having a license.” 

“I didn’t say there was.” You sniffle your laughter, as he pouts. 

“Don’t license-shame me.” 

“Not a thing, Joonie.” 

Before he can reply, he’s interrupted by Yoongi, who calls for him. 

“Namjoon!” 

You give him another smile, before heading back to the line. “I have to get back in the line. I’ll see ya. Thanks for the creamer.” 

Before he heads back to the main counter, he gives you a little nod.

He tries to ignore Yoongi’s cheeky grin. “Don’t say anything.” 

“Okay,” Yoongi says. “I’ll ask instead. Who was that and why do you look all slap-happy?” 

Ah, semantics. They were going to get him some day. Namjoon sighs. “That was (Y/N).” 

“From college (Y/N)?” 

“College (Y/N).” 

“Ahhhh.” He smirks. 

“Can you not?” Namjoon groans.

“Didn’t you tell me you used to have a crush on (Y/N)?” 

“Can we not?” 

“Not what?” 

“Elaborate.” 

“Oh, okay. So,” Yoongi starts. “From your exact words: (Y/N) is technically your first love, but you never confessed out of fear—of both ruining your friendship and also rejection, which is only natural. You thought you had a chance at graduation, where you knew the ties could or could not be severed. And yet…. you still didn’t confess and, now that you’ve run into your old flame…” His eyebrows raise in question. “How are things, ‘Joonie’?” 

Namjoon’s eyes narrow at him in speculation. “You remembered those details rather vividly.” 

Yoongi shrugs. “My therapist says I have good listening skills.” 

“You really have an answer for everything,” Namjoon mutters. 

“And yet, I’m the one who’s a high school dropout.” 

For once, Namjoon blanks, before deciding to change the subject. “I thought you said my order is ready.” 

“It is.” Yoongi sets the large cup onto the counter and gives a bright smile that is filled with sarcasm. “Bone apple tea.” 

“Thanks?” 

“It’s lingo,” he says. “Keep up with the times, man. You’re younger than me.” 

Namjoon groans, but he can’t suppress his grin. “Have fun with the morning rush. I’ll see you later, man.” 

“See ya.” 

On his way out, he gives you another wave goodbye, to which you wave back.

As he officially leaves the cafe shop, he makes his way back to the office. While his mornings are rather shitty, Yoongi does tend to make them brighter—but seeing you, on top of that, might have given him more energy than the coffee does.

February 14th, 2020

Friday, 8:30PM 

Moonbyul’s Reception

Celebration Ceremonies Wedding Hall 

—

“I think we can all agree that Moonbyul has a stronger image,” Hyejin says. “Despite the more masculine stereotype she’s categorized in, Moonbyul is a very loving, sweet, and tender person.” She pauses. “Although, Heewon probably already knows this.” 

She turns to the rest of the guests. “People say that love is supposed to make you feel nervous—your heart will pound and the anxiety will make you sweat. But, I think, love means sharing yourself with another person and you’re willing to work together to build that life with one another. Byul is someone you can share anything with—she makes everything feel more comfortable. Rather than making you nervous, she makes you feel at ease.” 

She pauses. “Heewon, you’re very lucky to have someone so dedicated and hardworking by your side. And, while I may not have known you for very long, I know you’ll take great care of her. Congrats to the MoonWon couple and may your marriage be blessed for all eternity.” 

Light applause is given throughout the room and Hyejin makes her way back to her seat at the main table, with the other bridesmaids and immediate family members of the two brides. 

Light conversations begin once again at each of the guest tables—Moonbyul and Heewon remain seated at their table, having greeted the guests earlier as they entered the reception hall. In the background, classical music plays softly (although, live music will continue to play after the cake has been cut). 

It’s been calm so far, but who knows what will happen once the bar’s open. 

Namjoon takes another sip from his water glass, listening as Seokjin rambles on about the perfect ramen. Next to Jin, there’s Hani and Yura, who look half confused and half-amazed at how much he knew about food. On the other side of Namjoon, Junghwan and Myungsoo are eating away at their plates, practically cleaning them with their utensils as they scrape the food off (despite that, Namjoon swears he heard both of them ask if doggy bags were doing to be given out). 

“There’s this cute little shop that Namjoon and I used to go to all the time. Remember, Namjoon? It had that seafood theme with the cute decorations?”

Namjoon’s head turns from his name being mentioned. “Yeah?” He blinks, recalling the cute fish tanks they had along the wall. Granted, the restaurant also sold sushi and he always felt guilty whenever he ordered the sashimi platters. “We should go back there sometime. They really do have the best ramen there. You should give it a shot, if you get the chance.” 

“I’m always up for food,” Hani says. “I’ll take the girls with me someday since you’re giving it such high praise.” 

“Well,” Namjoon says. “Maybe when Hyerin gets back from her honeymoon.” 

“Very true.” 

“It does sound like a cute date spot,” Yura adds. “Maybe I’ll get lucky enough to find someone to go with here.” 

“Ooh,” Seokjin says. “I’ll share the address with the newlyweds too. They can go on cute dates together!” Seokjin turns back to Namjoon with a pout. “We don’t go on any dates anymore.” 

“I’m busy at work, you know this.” 

“You can still try to make time like you do with Jimin, at least.” 

“I didn’t know you were dating,” Hani says, glancing between them. “Have you been together long?” 

Namjoon nearly chokes on his food from the laugh that escapes his throat. 

“We’re not dating,” Seokjin answers. “Namjoon’s got his eye on someone else.” Namjoon gives him a questionable look, which he ignores. “As a little birdie has told me.” 

Damn Yoongi and his big mouth. 

At that moment, there’s some microphone feedback coming from the front. 

“Hello?” Yongsun and Jaehwan stand on the stage and Yongsun carefully taps the microphone in her hand. “Hello, everyone. Can you all hear me?” 

“Yes!”

She smiles. “Well, I hope you’re all having a good time. We're just about to cut the cake, but, before that, Jaehwan and I have prepared a duet for the new couple for their first dance! I hope you all enjoy it and another congratulations to our brides.”

Jaehwan gives a thumbs up to the DJ in the corner, who gives another in return and starts to play a soft melody. The lights dim and, from Namjoon’s line of vision, he sees Moonbyul stand, bowing to her wife with a hand out to invite her to the dance floor. The two make their way to the middle and slowly start to sway together. Others start to join in too, listening to the soothing music provided by Yongsun and Jaehwan. 

Namjoon nods along to the song, along with the many others who stayed at their tables. He takes a glance around, spotting some of the other guests and that’s when he sees you with Wheein and Eric. An automatic grin appears on his face as he sees you. The three of you are holding hands and slowly swaying to the beat with bright, proud smiles as you all look at the lovely couple. 

He glances to the side, only to see Seokjin with a smug face. He feels the heat creeping back up his neck and towards his cheeks. Namjoon clears his throat, shifting in his seat from his friend’s eyes. “What?” 

“I think you know what.” 

“No, I don’t.” He clears his throat once more, feeling it dry up. “Stop staring at me like that.” 

“Staring at you like what?” 

“Like what?” Seokjin tilts his head in a mocking manner. 

Namjoon sighs as he closes his eyes and shakes his head. “You know what I mean.” 

“No,” he says in a singsong tone with a higher pitch. “I don’t~” He gives another look to Namjoon, speaking up again, back in his normal tone. “That’s what you sound like right now. You can’t lie to me and you know it.”

Namjoon lets out another sigh. He does know it; he really can’t lie, especially to one of his best friends. Because of this though, he’s going to be teased endlessly. “Do you remember (Y/N)?” 

“Of course I do,” he says. “How could I ever forget the person you pined over for the entirety of college and afterwards?” 

“Can you please not mention that part?” 

“How could I not, though?” Seokjin tilts his head with a little smile that’s nothing short of mischievous. “You never confessed too, so that just added onto the secondhand frustration I had whenever you two were together.” 

“Oh my God,” he mutters. “I’m just gonna stop talking altogether.” 

“No, no, no,” Seokjin whines. “Please continue, I’ll be quiet.” 

“Okay,” Namjoon says with a sigh. “I may… or may not, have ran into (Y/N) a couple of times at some other weddings and the coffee shop—” 

“Which is where I got my info—” 

He gives him a look, which shuts him up. 

“Sorry,” he says. “Proceed.” 

“(Y/N) is also here—” 

Seokjin squeals, clapping his hands together—unable to contain his excitement. “Where? Where? Where?” 

“(Y/N)’s with Eric and Wheein right now.” 

“So? Go join them; talk to them, chat ‘em up.” 

“Dude, you’re a great hype man,” Namjoon says. “But, not that great. (Y/N) seems busy, I shouldn’t interfere with that.” 

“What you lack, my friend, is the confidence.” He pauses. “Do you need some of mine? Because I’d be happy to rub some onto you.” 

“No, thank—” Even though Namjoon (halfway) rejected him, Seokjin is already rubbing his hands onto Namjoon’s face and, at that, with a bright smile as he smushes his best friend’s face. 

After a couple of seconds, Seokjin pats Namjoon’s face, admiring his ‘work’ for a second. “There. You are set.” He gives Namjoon a little push. “Now go.” 

“Now?” 

“Of course now; they’re starting to cut the cake and (Y/N)’s gonna be alone.” He makes a shoo-ing motion with his hands. While Namjoon would rather let his anxiety take over, Seokjin’s got a point. Yongsun and Jaehwan have finished their duet; Moonbyul and Heewon have already moved on to cutting the cake, which have taken most of the guests’ attention—even Hani and Yura have moved themselves towards the front (granted, anything with food will draw them in). Better now than never. 

Namjoon stands up, straightening out his shirt and tightening his tie. Seokjin gives a thumbs-up and a pat on the butt, before Namjoon sets off towards your table. 

He takes long strides with, little to some, confidence. By the time he gets near your table, he stops behind you and lightly taps your shoulder. 

You turn around, greeting him with a bright grin. “I knew you’d be around somewhere!” 

“You were looking for me?” He tries not to look too shocked. 

“Considering how you said you were going to be here… Yeah, I kind of was.” You turn back to Eric and Wheein. “Scootch over, y’all. Namjoon’s got a seat next to me.” 

“Don’t even worry about it,” Eric says. “We’ll be out of your hair in a second.” 

“We’re gonna go get some cake and then we’re gonna go to the bouquet toss too,” Wheein says. “I also have to stop Hyerin from running into the kitchen to get more of the food. Don’t worry though, we’ll be back.” 

They both get up, waving you both goodbye, and catch up with the rest of the crowd. 

Meanwhile, you turn back to Namjoon. “So, what brought you over?” You lean your chin on your hand. “Was it my sparkling aura you felt the presence of?” 

He laughs, responding with a teasing tone of his own. “What else could it have been otherwise?” He shifts in his seat. “Are you having fun?” 

“You know me, Joonie,” you say with a laugh of your own. “I’ll find a way to have fun.” You eye him. “Are you having fun? Or are you planning on being anti-social again?” 

“Again?” His eyebrows raise. “How dare you. I am an introvert, not anti-social. I came to you this time.” 

“Uh-huh,” you say with crossed arms. “This time being the key phrase. Don’t you have other friends?” 

“I have other friends.” He pouts. “I came here with Seokjin.” 

You gasp. “I haven’t seen him in so long. I need to catch up with him; I miss him.” You poke your head around towards the dance floor, waving to Seokjin—who is currently doing his infamous traffic dance underneath the disco lights. 

“Wow. Really feeling the love here, (Y/N).” 

You turn back to him with a teasing smile and poke your finger into his dimple that he doesn’t even bother to try to swat away. “I’ve missed you too, Joonie.” 

He quickly takes your hand off his face, hoping you didn’t feel the heat that rises to his face. 

“We can make plans too,” you say with a nudge. “You know, instead of meeting at all these weddings.” 

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “That’d be a lot easier.” 

“Give me your phone.” 

Namjoon reaches into his pocket, easily pulling out his phone and hands it over to you. He lets you tap around on it, until he realizes something. “Wait, what are you doing? I have your number.” 

“I’m checking your schedule,” you say. “Makes things easier to plan.” You look up from the screen. “Especially since you’re an important businessman.” 

He closes his eyes, in an attempt not to laugh at the ridiculous statement, but the grin on his face gives his emotions away. 

You scroll through his calendar, before landing on a date. “I’m free for lunch on Wednesday.” You dangle the phone in front of him. “Think you can make some time for me?” 

“(Y/N), I can always make time for you.” He really hopes that didn’t sound as desperate as it did. 

However, he doesn’t think you care—as he spots the large grin on your face. 

“Great,” you say. “It’s a date.” 

Namjoon is unable to say anything, as he’s sabotaged by his own friend. 

Seokjin dances his way over, pulling him onto the dance floor. “Need to borrow him, thanks! I’ll catch up with you later, (Y/N)!” He gives a light push to Namjoon, who’s trying to keep up with Seokjin’s dance moves. “How’d it go?” 

“We set a date?” He tries to collect his thoughts, but he’s having issues with processing it. “I think?” 

“See what happens when you have a little confidence?” He interrupts before Namjoon can answer. “You’re welcome.” 

“Oh my God,” he mutters with disbelief. Sometimes, he really can’t believe the amount of confidence that this one man has. 

“Now keep dancing, that’s how we’re gonna make our way closest to the bouquet. I’m catching that and no one can stop me.” 

“Seokjin, why are you like this?” 

“Oh hush, you love me.” Seokjin does a little body wave to skim past the other guests. “Y’all better watch out ‘cause the king is coming!” 

February 19th, 2020

Wednesday, 12:30PM 

Emerby Eateries 

—

Namjoon’s fingers tap against the table, checking his watch for the time once again. He takes another sip of from his water glass, oddly feeling the anxiety hit. Does this count as a date? You did say it was a date, but… is this really a date? 

Before he can linger too long on the thought, the seat in front of him is taken—by you. You’re slightly out of breath and, from the sight of your hair being slightly out of place, he can assume you did a small run on your way here before you were any more late than you already were. 

“You’re late,” he says with a singsong tone. He picks up the menu, pretending to glance over the options. “You really haven’t changed since college.” 

“Tsk, tsk, Joonie.” You brush off his statement with a wave of your hand. “You’re just too punctual. I was just a couple of minutes late.” 

“More like ten minutes late.” 

“Potato, potato.” You grab your menu, glancing through the appetizers. “Time’s an illusion anyways.” 

He tries to stop his laughter, but one look at you and he breaks his fake anger. 

“Did you order anything without me?” you ask. 

“Of course not,” he says. “I figured you would want to share anyways, so you can decide on what you want.” 

“And jack the bill up? I’m not that type of person.” 

“Stand down,” he says. “Not what I meant.” 

You chuckle. “I’m just pulling your leg. But, seriously, is there anything you’ve set your heart on ordering?” 

“Well, the sandwiches look good.” His tongue clicks as he contemplates on his order. “I usually get those whenever I’m here, so I’ll probably get one. Do you know what you want?” 

“Not really, I’ve been stuck on the appetizers. Did you want to split one?” You set your menu down, but your eyes don’t leave it. “They got fried pickles and I kind of want to try them. They also have those cheese balls that those mukbang youtubers eat.” You look up at him. “I kind of want to try those, not gonna lie.” 

He smiles at the way your eyes sparkle at the thought. “I’m not stopping you, you know.” 

“I know, but will you eat it with me? I’ll even pay for them.” 

“Damn, (Y/N),” he says with a hand on his chest. “That’s how I know your love is real.” 

You let out another laugh at his words and Namjoon couldn’t help but admire how carefree you look. While the two of you were a chaotic duo, the chaos was more drawn out from your side—not really chaos, it was more of your impulsiveness. But, it doesn’t mean he didn’t enjoy those memories with you. In fact, he cherishes them the most from his college memories. 

He still can’t believe he let you convince him of breaking into the campus gym’s pool. There was also that time when you two were drunk and you told him you wanted to try rock climbing—at the end of the night, you took an hour to climb up to his top bunk, declared success, and passed out once your head hit his pillow. You also broke into a classroom with him, to explain your theories on how birds work for the bourgeoisie (while the theories were insane, he had to admit you had a really convincing argument, which was probably due to all those essays you had to write). 

“Do you know what you would like?” 

The server’s question makes him snap out of his thoughts. He looks at you expectantly and you do him the solid by answering first. 

“We’re gonna need some more time for the entrees, but could I get a couple of appetizers first?” 

“Of course, whenever you’re ready.” 

“Okay, so we’re going to start with the fried cheese balls with some fire sauce on the side, along with some fries.” 

“Anything to drink?” 

“I’m good with water.” You look to Namjoon. 

“Uh, me too. Water’s fine.” 

You both thank your server before she leaves and turn back your menus when she’s out of sight. There’s a moment of silence as you both deliberate on what to get. Namjoon’s already figured he would just get what he usually does a while ago; his menu is shut and left on the side as he waits for you to figure out what you want. He can only shake his head; you’re still just as indecisive as before. 

Light pop music plays in the background and his fingers tap along with the beat. He moves his focus to the window where people continue to pass by on the busy city street. It’s lunchtime, so he expected the foot traffic to pick up a bit (and it did)—which was why he wanted to go a bit earlier. After another moment, he turns back to you, only to see you already looking at him. 

“Having fun?” you ask with a quirk of your lip. 

“Always.” He leans back in his chair. “You figured out what you want?” 

“Yeah, it took a bit but I figured it out.” 

When the server comes over again, the appetizers are served and you both order the entrees. You and Namjoon split the appetizers, nearly finishing them until the entrees were ready. Between all this time, you two actually catch up. It’s more than just the casual conversations you’ve had at those weddings—you’re both taking more time to listen to one another (in a more sober conversation) and actually talk about the things you didn’t manage to get to. Next thing you knew, it’s already been nearly an hour. 

“Can you believe that we’re actually adults living in this capitalistic society?” You set your glass down. “We’re doing things like paying for bills.” 

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s called responsibilities.” He lets out another laugh at the face you make from his word choice.

“Ugh, that’s disgusting. Don’t make me choke.” You take another sip of your water. “You know one way of knowing there’s the transition from childhood to adulthood is attending more funerals than weddings.” 

“It seems more like the opposite for us, don’t you think?” 

“Oh my God,” you groan. “You’re so right though. The amount of weddings I’ve been attending…” You shake your head, as if to convince yourself the number is lower than it actually is. “It’s kind of ridiculous. Don’t get me wrong, I love all of my friends, but Jesus Christ, it’s like they all had a pact to get married around the same time and decided to leave me out.” 

Namjoon sighs, playing with the leftover sauce on the side. “I’ve been to, like, five last year and I’m pretty sure it’s going to keep coming.” 

“I really feel you, Joonie. I really do. I have a couple more I have to go to later.” You let out a sigh. “Curse me for being so friendly with others.” 

“Haha, this is what you get for being popular.” 

“I am not popular; I just happen to be a bit more extroverted than you.” 

“More like a lot,” he says. “You definitely used to be a popular kid in high school.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. What’s wrong with a couple more friends?” 

“No, no, there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s a compliment: people enjoy your company and that’s how you managed to keep the ties you still have…” He pauses. “Like me.” 

You give him another teasing smile. “Glad to know you enjoy my company.” 

“It’d be awkward if I didn’t, considering I decided to have lunch with you.” 

“Oh, yeah, by the way, how long are your lunch breaks?” 

“Since I’ve moved up to management, I get more time, so about an hour or so—give or take.” 

Your eyebrows raise. “Wow, look at you.” 

He tries to suppress the blush from the look you give him. 

“And despite all of this,” you continue to say. “You still don’t have your license?” 

“Why are you bringing this up again?” He groans. 

“It came up organically when I was with Seokjin,” you say. “You know... After he managed to steal the bouquet from Sunmi’s hands.” 

“So,” he says with a glint in his eye. “You did talk to Seokjin that night?” 

“Yeah, I did. Found out a little bit about what you’ve been doing after college.” 

“So you talked about me?” 

For the first time today, the blush starts to creep up your face. Namjoon raises an eyebrow at the sight; for once, he seems to have the upper hand. You clear your throat, before taking another sip of your near-empty glass. 

“Don’t try to change the subject,” you say. “You still don’t have your license.” 

“I-I just never had the time and the office is close to my apartment…” He tries to find the words (excuses, if he’s really being honest). “All of my friends have their licenses, so I don’t see the appeal of getting one.” 

“So, what I’m hearing is, you have a uncommitted chauffeurs.” 

“Oh my God, (Y/N),” he says with a laugh. “I don’t have that much money yet.” 

“Yet. That’s the word to focus on.” 

You both laugh again. 

“Well, I would love to be your chauffeur anytime,” you say with another grin. “That is if you pay me for gas money.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says. “Thank you for the offer though.” 

“It’s no problem.” You let out a sigh, but it’s more relaxed than tired. “I’m serious though. If you need a ride, you can always ask.” 

“I know, I know,” he says. He swirls his glass, trying to distract himself before he lets out his next words. “I know I can count on you anytime.” 

The sparkle in your eyes returns and Namjoon has to stop his heart from skipping a beat at the sight. 

March 10th, 2020

Tuesday, 4PM 

Shoreside Condos

—

Hey! Just a friendly reminder to RSVP to our wedding! 

We’d love for all of you to join! 

See you then! 

- Anna Young and Eric Nam

Namjoon squints at the email and its neat, curly font. If he didn’t have Eric’s email saved, he definitely would have thought it was some type of subscription he signed up for and completely forgot about from the words alone. 

He makes a mental note to dry-clean his fancy suit before the time comes. Although, realistically speaking, he has more than enough time to do so. He can probably (and most likely will) procrastinate on it.

As he tries to make the mental arrangements, in the background, the television plays on another generic movie channel that doesn’t play anything remotely worth paying attention to (he might make an exception for The Hunger Games though). Rapmon sits on the couch, next to Namjoon, with his front paws and head laying on Namjoon’s legs. One hand pets Rapmon softly and the other hand hovers over his laptop’s keypad as he quickly RSVP’s for the wedding and reception. 

Namjoon easily fills it out with one hand, humming along as he taps the individual keys. However, he realizes that there is a problem after submitting the form: he has no ride. From what he can recall, the others probably aren’t going, considering these were two separate friend groups—so there’s no point in asking anyone for a possible ride. Then again, he could always get an uber or carpool with someone else. 

He sucks in a breath, praying someone he knew would be on the guest list. Going back to his email, he looks over those who were sent the same email.

While he is acquainted with over half of the people, there isn’t anyone close enough he could ask. Jackson’s most definitely going with his long-time partner and there is no way Namjoon wants to be between the two of them. On the other hand, Amber is probably going with a group of people and he’s not really up for a conversation with a bunch of people he’s unfamiliar with. On top of all that, Eric is very sociable, so there are bound to be guests from all sorts of places (considering the unknown names from the email). 

Although....there is another option. 

He quickly picks up his phone, scrolling through his contact list. His finger stops as he hovers over your contact. He taps on it, but can’t find the courage to hit any button. The contact photo of you, smiling with a bundle of puppies (from that time you wanted to pet a bunch of puppies at Petco), is what his eyes linger on the most. 

While the rational side of his mind knows you would be ecstatic to go to Eric’s wedding with him, the irrational side tells him that he shouldn’t bother you. What if you think he’s just using you for rides? Are you just going to drop him off? Should he invite you as a date? But, most of all, what if you just flat out reject him? 

Rapmon senses his master is upset and tilts his head up at Namjoon as his paws start to pat him—at least, his leg—to make him feel better. Namjoon can only smile, patting his head in response as a silent thanks for the attempt to comfort him. However, because of that… 

“No!” 

One of Rapmon’s paws hits the call button and Namjoon can feel ten years of his life being shaved off as the tone starts to ring. 

“Ahhh!!!” 

Out of panic, he drops the phone quicker than a hot potato. Luckily for him, it lands on the soft carpet below. He looks to Rapmon, who looks around, panting—without a care in the world, as if nothing was wrong. 

But right now, everything is wrong. 

Before Namjoon could even pick up the phone, nevertheless hang up, the ringing tone stops and there’s a soft response. 

“Hello?” 

He stumbles around, trying to grab the phone, but hitting the coffee table with his foot and falling on his ass. “Oh shi—” 

“... Hello?” 

“Sorry!” he shouts aloud. He quickly puts himself together, sitting back on the couch and leans down to grab his phone. He clears his throat, before speaking. “Hello?” 

“Hey, Joonie.” He can hear your grin over the phone. What’s up?” 

“Oh, nothing much..” He lets a small exhale, trying to calm himself from the embarrassing situation. “Um, what’s up with you?” 

“Nothing really?” He hears some clutter as you are shifting the phone on your shoulder. “I’m just at home. You know, doing this and that.” 

“Oh, oh. Uh, sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you—” 

“Namjoon, you can never bother me,” you say. “What’s up though? Not that I mind you calling me a bit out of the blue.” 

He opens his mouth, unable to really find the words. “So, uhm… This is kind of stupid.” 

“More stupid than you cutting that onion?” 

“That was one time.” His eyes close, trying to repress his laughter and the embarrassing memory. “Let it go!” 

There’s a laugh on the other side of the line; your laugh is infectious, causing Namjoon to burst into a laughing fit as well. 

“Um, okay,” he says. He lets out a sigh. “This is, like, way earlier than I originally intended.” 

“Come on, Joonie. Spit it out; it’s just me.” 

That’s the problem though: it’s you. But he can’t say that without it sounding weird. His lips twist to try to find the right words. “Do you remember Eric?” 

“You mean the guy I met at Moonbyul’s wedding?” 

“Yeah, him.” 

“Yeah, I remember him. Why?” 

“Well, he invited me to his wedding…” 

“Oh, good for him.” 

“Yeah.. but I was wondering…” Maybe he shouldn’t ask, but he does anyways. “If you could give me a ride?” 

You let out a small laugh. “Of course I can give you a ride.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, when is it?” 

“It’s in April, which is, like, a month away, but—” 

“Considering how I can’t even plan the next day, I’m sure I’ll be able to give you a ride, like, a month later.” 

“Well,” he says. He can feel his shoulders tense a bit. “It doesn’t just have to be a ride…” His fingers absentmindedly toy with a decorative button on his couch. “Did you… did you want to be my plus one?”

There’s a bit of silence and Namjoon can only swallow, feeling all the moisture in his mouth. 

“... It depends.” 

“On what?” 

Your response is a bit softer from the original teasing tone you had before. “It depends if you really want me there.” 

He relaxes, easily leaning back onto the couch. “Of course I want you there, consider it a trade deal.” 

“A trade deal?” 

“I get a ride and you get free food?” 

You hum a bit into the phone. “I like that preposition, but could I refer to this as a favor?” 

“Considering that it is a favor,” he says. “Sure—I owe you one.” 

“I’m gonna hold onto that against you then.”

“I’m completely fine with that, (Y/N).” 

“Okay, just keep in touch and text me the details when you get the time.” 

Before you can hang up, he speaks up once more. “Hey, (Y/N)?” 

There’s a bit more shuffling, but it stops. “Yeah?” 

“Thanks.” 

“It’s no problem, Joonie. You can count on me anytime.” 

He smiles into the phone for the nth time and looks down at his feet, feeling the blush return. “I know.” He pauses. “I’ll-I’ll text you.” 

“You better, Joonie. I’ll talk to you later.” 

“Bye.” 

“Bye!” 

His phone screen turns black for a second, before returning back to your smiling contact image. His grin grows and he slumps back further into the couch, practically beaming once his body is bully molded with the couch. He turns back to his fluffy boy and plays with his fur, giving him thorough pets. “Such a good boy. I shall retrieve you a treat soon.” 

Rapmon barks happily at his spot, continuing to pant as he moves his eyes on the television screen. 

Meanwhile, Namjoon gets back to his spreadsheets, minimizing his personal email tab. He manages to do his tasks much happier now that he’s got something to look forward to. 

April 3rd, 2020 

Friday, 7:30PM 

Eric’s Reception

Bright Rings Event Venue 

—

“Anyone who knows Eric,” Eddie says. “Knows that he’s very easy-going. He’s able to get along with anyone, which is how he’s able to meet so many people and make so many friends. So, when I first introduced Eric to Anna, I thought this was nothing more than another just friends situation. Little did I know was that I would be standing here… as the best man for their wedding.” 

He moves himself closer to the main table, where the bride and groom are seated. “As Eric’s brother—and manager—I did not think that he would be married before me.” The crowd laughs light-heartedly. “Don’t worry, I’m not bitter about it. I’m glad Eric has found someone who’s willing to spend their life with him, especially after getting to know him.” He lets out a small laugh as Eric pouts from his seat. 

“Anyways, Anna—” He raises his glass. “This toast is for you. Consider this your official welcome to the Nam family.” 

The guests click their glasses with the others, exchanging pleasantries along the way. Namjoon comfortably smiles at you, and vice versa, before drowning a mouthful of the bubbly champagne that you two had previously cheered with. The chatter picks up once again as Eddie sits down next to his date at the main table with the newlyweds. Everyone resumes their conversations, slowly building up to, nearly, maximum volume. Birds of a feather flock together—Eric’s loud personality attracts many other eccentric personalities. 

Namjoon takes a look around, taking note of the other guests. There’s a wide variety of people; while some are from college, from what he could recall, most of them are unfamiliar faces and unrecognizable place settings. Although, he should thank Eric for his place setting—many of those at this table are faces he does know. 

Jackson and his long-time girlfriend and recently engaged fiance, Hua Yi, were seated (luckily) on Namjoon’s left side and you were placed to his right. On your right, you sat next to Amy Lee and Amber—who were like Eric’s non-biological sisters. You were making easy conversation with the other guests, both familiar and non, as per usual. Maybe it’s due to your presence, but Namjoon has been able to easily converse with others as well. 

Jaehyung, another close friend of Eric’s, is currently at the front of the stage to provide entertainment with his guitar. He sings a sweet melody, contributing to the light atmosphere—above all the chatter and light conversation happening. 

“You know, I’ve always wanted to play the guitar,” you say, leaning closer to him. “Maybe I should’ve joined the band kids in high school to pick up a little something.” 

“Well, I did band…. kind of.” His face contorts, remembering the piano lessons he was forced to participate in due to the school’s curriculum. “But, trust me when I say that it did nothing for me.” 

Your eyebrows raise. “Nothing?” You lean in closer, with an elbow propped on your knee. “You almost became one of those famous soundcloud rappers. I think you should give yourself some more credit.” 

“Yeah, well, I can only play chopsticks,” he says. “So, were those four years really worth it?”

“Is anything from high school really worth it though?” 

You both chuckle as the old memories from high school started to occupy your minds. To think that Namjoon had really spent four years, not knowing what the hell he was doing—only to study for four more years to survive life and work a stable job with a stable paycheck... Time really does just fly. 

“Oh my God,” he says. “High school was awful.” 

“College was fun though.” You let out a relaxed sigh as you lean back and your eyes nearly sparkle from the fond memories you’d made way-back-when. “That’s the time period anyone would go back to.” 

“I would prefer the experience without the debt though.” 

“Thank God for scholarships.” You give him a little nudge. “Am I right, Mr. 148-IQ?”

Namjoon rolls his eyes at your words in a playful manner.

Before he can respond back, microphone feedback plays through the speakers, causing most to wince at the sound. Eric and Anna have entered the stage area, nearly blocking Jae—who simply waves at the crowd with his head poking out from behind the couple. 

“Hello?” Eric says. “Can everyone hear me okay?” 

There’s a collective murmur and he speaks up once more. “Okay, we’re good. Before anything, let’s give another round of applause for Jae!” 

There’s a light round of applause for Jaehyung, who gives a big smile and wave. Eric continues to speak after it dies down a bit. “Thank you all for coming once again. We both really appreciate that you took the time to be here for us.” 

“Right now, we’re going to have our first dance,” Anna says. “So, we’re gonna slow things down with the musical accompaniment of our very own Ailee!” 

Next to you, Amy raises from her seat and makes her way to the stage. You, along with Namjoon, clap for her—cheering her on as she walks towards center stage. She chats a bit with Jaehyung as the two of them start to set up. After a bit, she does a bit of harmony with Jaehyung and, shortly after, the sweet, soft melody of the guitar starts to play. 

Anna guides Eric towards the middle of the dance floor, who’s got a grin the size of the entree plates; she places his hands on her waist and hers on his shoulders, leaning into him as the song continues to play. Other guests slowly join them as well, including Jackson and Hua Yi. 

In a couple of minutes, you and Namjoon are the only ones left at the table. You two continue to chat for the time being, even as the music changes and time continues to go by. The other guests come and go by your table (even Mark came by, but the thumbs-up he gives Namjoon made him quite flustered); some had left a bit sooner because of prior engagements they had arranged for the next day. 

By this point, it’s past three hours—the cake has already been cut and the bar is officially open for the rest of the evening. The loud personalities had just gotten louder as the night got longer. 

Yongsun’s alcohol tolerance has been hit as she swings on the stipper pole with a plate of cake in her hands. On the other hand, as the songs started to get more upbeat, Amy abandoned her post at the stage and headed towards the bar—where she’s been doing her own personal wine tasting (and karaoke session). Amber had briefly joined her, before deciding to lead an impromptu concert that may or may not have resulted with her currently crowd-surfing. Jackson is with Peniel… doing whatever they usually do (although, Namjoon definitely recalls Peniel holding very tightly onto a Naked smoothie bottle; something about getting naked at the reception). 

The chaos goes on, even with the two of you in your own little bubble. The only difference though… is the alcohol intake as the time had passed. Considering how many glasses you had drowned, along with the ones Amy kept recommending to you and the ones brought by other servers, Namjoon is starting to remember how good your tolerance is. Despite that, you are definitely starting to feel it hit hard all at once. Meanwhile, he’s suffering silently from a mere three glasses. 

You drown another glass of your white wine. “Ahh.” You lean back in your chair with closed eyes. “My guy, I definitely cannot drive for a while.” 

A giggle spills from his lips as the alcohol starts to flow throughout his system.  “I can’t drive at all.” 

You laugh along with him; his giddiness is contagious. “Are you drunk?” 

“Nope.” He pops the p, giving you a wide beam that showcases his perfect, shiny teeth.

You raise your eyebrows, but don’t say anything. You can’t focus on anything from seeing how red his face is. You can’t resist yourself and lightly tug on his ears—which are also a similar shade—to pull him a bit closer to you. “Joonie, you’re so cute when you’re drunk.” 

He feels the blood rush more into his cheeks, but he can’t help his smile growing from the compliment. Even as you’re squishing his cheeks together, he doesn’t pull away from your touch. 

“AYO!” 

Both of your heads turn towards the stage. Anna’s clearly had her fill of alcohol too. Her hair is in loose curls from the tight updo she previously had. She currently stands on the stage, the mic in one hand and her bouquet in the other; her wedding dress was already ripped—but it looks as if it was chopped with some basic kitchen knife—to a shorter length. 

“It’s time for the flower toss!” She waves it around, dangling it in front of the crowd. “Anyone who wants this can come and get it!” 

A small group of people start to push their way towards the front as Anna turns her back towards them. 

You divert your attention back to the man in your hands. “I’m gonna go.” 

“Will you be back?” 

“Very soon.” You look dead serious. “Swearies.” 

He nods his head (to the best of his ability, considering his face is literally in your hands) and watches on as you head towards the crowd, easily fitting in with the others. He leans his chin into his palm, watching you engage with a bunch of people, who are literal strangers to you. It’s amazing how you can easily and naturally insert yourself into a group of people. He knows he probably looks like some type of idiot, but, right now, you are the only thing that matters. 

Back at the stage, Anna counts, leaning back little by little with a swing of her hands. “3! 2!” 

Just as she tosses the flowers over her head, Mike yells. “Yeet!” 

“Mine!” Peniel calls. 

But Matthew gets there first. 

“Interception, bitch!” 

He knocks the bouquet from its original path. It was almost like a high school basketball match from the way it happened.

Next thing you know, a couple of grown ass men were starting a brawl over an overpriced floral arrangement. Jamie interferes the two, squeezing herself in between the two idiots and easily whacking them, effectively getting them to stop. 

“Not the tiddies!” 

“Shut the fuck up!” she yells. “This isn’t about you!” With each word, she uses the flowers to hit each of them. 

While everyone’s distracted, Jackson rips the flowers from Jamie’s hands. He makes his way over to Hua Yi, easily getting down on one knee. Before he says anything, Hua Yi rips the flowers out of his hands and yells. “We’re already engaged, you idiot!” There’s no harm in it, considering how wide her grin is and the blush that’s apparent on her cheeks. 

Eric, eventually, takes over the stage once more—his tie loose and tossed carelessly over his shoulder. Despite it being his wedding, he looks like he’s  seen some stuff happen. He stands next to Anna with the mic, which he definitely had to pry out of her hands, and simply sighs as he watches the chaos. “This is cancelled; y’all are banned—I’m calling the police.” 

Of course, everyone ignores his empty threat and continues to brawl over the flowers. 

Namjoon’s attention is taken away from the scene, as you move past the chaos, and head back towards him. You arrive back with a pout, immediately slouching back in your seat. He rests his chin on the table, inching closer to you with eyes that sparkle like an anime character. 

“I didn’t get it,” you whine. 

He pouts with you, feeling your pain. “I’m sorry.” 

You let out a sigh and proceed to take another shot. A drop spills from your lips, trailing down your neck and Namjoon’s eyes unconsciously follow it. 

“Joonie,” you say. 

His eyes go back to yours. “Yes.”

“I need ice cream.” 

“Ice cream?” His eyebrows furrowed together in concentration and thought. “They only have cake.” 

“Then we need to go to the ice cream, Joonie.” 

His eyes widen in a comedic size reeling you’re correct. He snaps his fingers, lifting himself from the table, and pointing directly at you. “You are a genius.” 

“I fucking know, bro.” You pause as you realize your predicament. “I can’t drive.” 

“Neither can I.” 

“Not like that,” you say. “I’ve had like…. more than five glasses.” 

“Really?” His mouth gaps open. “I lost count after the tenth one.” 

“Ten?!” You gasp. “Did I really drink that much?” 

“I don’t know, (Y/N). I said I lost count.” 

You blink at him, slowly coming to the realization of how much alcohol was actually in your system. “Oh my God.” Your pout returns. “But I want ice cream now.” 

He hums, rocking a bit in his chair, like an old man out on the front porch, to find some way out of the complication. His eyes finally met yours. “I think I have a solution.”

Friday, 11:45PM

After Eric’s Reception

Midnight Munchies

—

Your giggle overlaps with the sound of the bell that rings as you two walk into the late-night dessert shop. The workers greet you cheerfully, which you both respond back to. You are looking at the glass that showcases all the different flavors, whereas Namjoon tries to read the menu to the best of his ability—but his squinting shows how bad his vision is at the moment. 

Back at Bright Rings, after some common sense had slowly started to come back, you both searched up ice cream places nearby. Luckily, Namjoon found a place that served ice cream at this hour and it was close enough to walk to—resulting in an improvised, evening stroll which was just the two of you laughing at dumb jokes along the way (he may or may not have used some of Seokjin’s dad jokes along the way). 

Due to the lesser amount of drinks in his system, he sobered up a bit… On the other hand, yours still remained. But nothing can’t be fixed with a little bit of ice cream (at least, that’s what you said).

“Do you know what you would like?” 

Your attention has been turned to the server behind the counter. “Uh, not me.” Scooting closer to Namjoon, you give him a nudge. “Joonie, do you know what you want?” 

“I’m not sure,” he says with a slight frown. “What’d you think I should get?” 

You let out a small hum as you think, before pointing to the fruit flavors in the middle. “You like fruit flavored ice cream, and you definitely need to try something new, so I say you should get the melon.” 

“Okay,” he says with a nod. “I trust you.” He turns to the worker. “Can I please get a scoop of the melon ice cream?” 

“Would you like any toppings?” 

“Uhh.” He turns to you. “Should I?” 

“If you want some, then get some.” 

He hesitates a bit. “Strawberries?” 

The worker raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure?” 

Turning back towards the counter, he answers. “Yes.”

He receives his ice cream, waiting as you order yours and pays when you’re done—despite your protests. You two thank the staff and add some change into the tip jar, before heading out to go back to the venue to sober up a bit more. 

For a bit, you two are enjoying your ice cream in silence as you walk side by side. You both walk for about a block—his footsteps match yours and yours matches his. 

You’re the one who speaks up first. “Thank you for the ice cream.”

“It’s just ice cream, (Y/N),” he says. 

“Still,” you start to say. “Considering I practically pushed you into inviting me out—” 

“You didn’t push me. I wanted to invite you.” 

You look to him, simply giving him a small smile. “Thank you.” 

The two of you continue your walk back to the venue, but you abruptly stop and tug on Namjoon’s sleeve. 

“What’s up?” 

You point to an open park and, with another hand, you lightly shake his arm like an excited child. “Let’s go in there.” 

He smiles at the sight. “Okay, let’s go.” 

Your eyes gleam at him and you’re practically wiggling with excitement, before you sprint over towards the park gates like a child. 

He shakes his head with a chuckle as he follows behind you. By the time he’s caught up with you, you’re already settled underneath a nearby tree with a view of the lake. He heads towards you in long strides and silently seats himself next to you. 

You’ve already finished your ice cream—its remains left on the side. Namjoon manages to finish his, which isn’t hard considering how it’s half melted and less cold. White noise plays as you two sit back and relax. There’s a couple of bikers, dog walkers, and other couples that occupy the public space. But, for most of the time, it’s just the two of you in silence. 

It’s broken once you let out a loud breath and fall back onto the grass. You shift a bit, trying to make yourself comfortable, and tap the empty space behind him. “Come on, Joonie. It’s just me.” 

“Okay, okay,” he says. “Just give me a sec.” 

He leans back, feeling the prickly grass brush against his neck, and rests his hands behind his head. You frown from the distance, easily pulling his arm and resting your head on it, scooting closer to him. 

His breath gets caught in his throat from your proximity, but he doesn’t move away—almost in a near frozen state as you continue to lean on him. Right now, all he hopes is that you can’t hear how hard his heart is anxiously beating in his chest. 

Instead, he tries to focus on the clear evening sky. It would have been nice for the stars to be out, but this is just as fine (although, the view can be done without all the red helicopter lights that pass by). 

You let out a sigh, feeling a lot more sober compared to before. “Time is weird, huh?” 

“What’d you mean?” 

“It’s just—” You pause. “One moment, we’re just college students messing around and now we’re adults, doing things like jobs and going to the post office or something.” 

He chuckles. “The post office?” 

“Ugh.” You lightly hit him to get him to stop laughing. “You know what I mean.” 

“Yeah,” he says with a sigh of his own. “I get it. It’s just… we’re grown ups—” 

“Ew, please don’t say that.” 

He chuckles again. “Look at us though. Could you have even imagined telling your younger self that the most eventful thing you’ve done this week is go to a wedding?” 

“Weddings can be fun,” you try to defend. “There’s free food and good music.”

“Good music?” 

“Better music than all those cringey ass middle school mixers.” 

“You’re right about that,” he says. “I think I’ll die if I hear another remix of a top 40 hit song again.” 

“You know which remix I hated the most?” 

“Which one?” 

“Love You Like A Love Song club remix.” 

He lets out a hearty laugh from your answer. “I didn’t know that was a remix.” 

“It is and it’s absolutely terrible. They did Selena so dirty.” 

“Did they now?” 

“Absolutely, Joonie. It’s a fucking monstrosity.” 

You look dead serious, which is probably what makes him laugh even harder than before. His laugh dies down to a chuckle. There’s another moment of silence afterwards, the two of you focusing your attention on the calm atmosphere from the silence of the park and the calm waters that lightly splash from a safe distance. 

The silence is interrupted as your phone goes off. Namjoon watches as you simply take the phone that was placed next to you. The light of the phone shines against your features briefly before you turn it back off. 

You make eye contact with him and he has to turn away, clearing his throat from being caught. “What’s up?” he asks. 

“Nothing really,” you say. “I just got a reminder for another wedding I have to go to.” You wave your phone, despite the blank, black scene. “I have to RSVP later… at some point.” 

He hums, understanding the situation. Suddenly, you sit up as you shake him lightly, causing him to sit up as well. 

“What?” he asks with apprehension. 

There’s a glint in your eyes that Namjoon is unsure as to whether or not he likes. 

“Remember that favor you owe me?” 

“Yeah?” 

“You wanna come to my friend’s wedding with me?” 

He leans back with a hand on the grass, contemplating whether or not he should. Would this count as a date? Nevertheless, an unofficial third date? 

He does owe you a favor too… 

So, it makes sense for him to accompany you to return the favor. 

He finally looks to you, whose head is tilted towards him in curiosity with a smile that shines brighter than the sun and eyes that sparkle more than any star in the sky. 

“Come on, Joonie. It’ll be fun.” 

“Count me in,” he says. “Consider it a favor being repaid.” 

Your smile turns into a beam before you settle back onto the grass with your eyes closed. “Let’s stay here a little longer.” You sigh. “I’m going to keep you for a bit, before I have to share you again.” 

He lets out a sigh of his own, but you don’t hear it. 

He’s already yours for the taking.

April 18th, 2020 

Saturday, 9PM 

Tiffany’s Reception 

Rosey Pink Palace

—

“I’ve known Tiffany for over ten years,” Jessica says. “I’ve lived with her, worked with her, and that meant learning a lot about her, as a person and a professional. She’s someone who finds the balance between idealistic and realistic. She has been looking forward to finding her Prince Charming and now she gets to have her fairytale ending. I have never seen Tiffany as happy as I’ve seen her with Kaun Yin.” She pauses, looking at the two. “So, let’s raise a glass to congratulate the Pink Princess for finding her Prince Charming.” 

The other guests give a light round of applause for Jessica, who gives another wave and smile—before she takes back her seat at the main table. Conversation is sparked once again amongst the guests. 

At your table, Namjoon makes small talk with some of the others at the table (mainly those who he’d previously met at Junmyeon’s wedding). Despite the fact that this is your friend’s wedding, which is filled with literal strangers and acquaintances, he’s managed to mingle fairly well without your guidance. But that’s also the reason why he’s been dragged into a conversation with another table—i.e., the table behind him. 

“Tiffany and I went out for ice cream once and she basically shamed me for not getting sprinkles,” Evan says. “I’m betting her cake is going to be the most colorful thing in the venue.” 

“The pinks aren’t colorful enough for you?” Nichkhun asks with a teasing smile. 

Namjoon lets out a laugh. “It’s called the Pink Palace, what other color did you—could you have expected?” 

“I thought maybe Kuan Yin would convince her to other colors,” Evan says. He lets out a sigh, swirling his wine glass. “I blame my optimism.” 

“If you know anything about Tiffany,” Nichkhun says. “Then you would know that no one could convince her out of something once her mind is set.” 

“How long have you known her?” Namjoon asks. “I bet it’s been some time now.” 

The handsome man ponders for a bit. “Probably about half a decade now,” he says. “Another one of my friends knew her and… we’ve been friends ever since.” 

“That’s a long time,” Evan says. “I’ve only known her for a couple of years. She helped me out with some of my Youtube videos.” He sips on his glass. “She did a makeover for me once.” He turns to Namjoon. “How long have you known her?” 

“Oh, I’m just a….” He tries to think of the word. Technically, he’s a date, so he should say date…. right? Something inside stops him from saying so though. “I’m just a plus one.” 

“Oh?” Nichkhun says with a tilt of his head. “Of who?” 

At that moment, you take back your seat next to Namjoon. You easily settle back in, giving him a smile, before noticing the other two. “Sorry, there was a line at the bathroom. Did I interrupt something?” 

“Not really,” Evan says. He points to Namjoon. “Is he with you?” 

“Yeah,” you say with a smile. “He’s my date.” 

He nearly chokes on his water at your words, but your smile just grows when you look at him. Before he can respond, the conversations come to a bit of a pause as the newlywed wife gets up from her spot, stealing the crowd’s attention. 

Tiffany makes her way up the main stage with a bedazzled, pink microphone in one hand and her dress in the other; Kuan Yin follows behind her with a hand holding the rest of her train, making sure she doesn’t trip on her way up the stairs. 

“Hello?” She taps on the microphone to double check. “Everyone, thank you so much for coming. We’re so glad you were able to make it. Let’s give one more round of applause for the maid of honor!” 

There’s another round of applause for Jessica and, once it dies down, Kuan Yin speaks into the microphone that remains in Tiffany’s hands. “She’s done a lot for us this past month and we’d like to thank her again for her hard work.” 

“Right now, we’re preparing for the cake cutting!” she says with a giggle. “Our wonderful servers are getting the cake ready and it will soon be out!” 

More light applause breaks the silence once more and, in a second, the two servers emerge from the kitchen with a rolling cart. 

On top of the cart is a three-tiered cake, various shades of pink are dotted around and smeared to look like a sophisticated art palette. Edible, at least what Namjoon thinks, glitter is decorated along the side and sparkles in the light. White frosting is decorated on the edges and sprinkles top them off. 

Well, Evan was right about one thing; it is colorful. 

You lean over towards Namjoon. “I’m betting there’s glitter inside the cake too.” 

“I’m willing to get into that bet too,” Nichkhun says. 

Namjoon and Evan laugh. 

On the other hand, Tiffany and Kuan Yin are already cutting the cake and passing it to the servers, who are immediately placing it on trays to serve to the other guests. You let out a little cheer once yours arrives. Next to you, Bora takes pictures of the slice that sits on her plate, showing them to both you and Na Eun, who’s sitting at her other side. 

“I’m glad she got the red velvet,” Bora says. 

“Yeah, it fits the aesthetic,” Na Eun replies. “And it definitely screams Tiffany.” 

You pick at yours a bit, splitting the cake to see the rest of the batter. “I totally called it. I knew there was gonna be glitter inside!” 

Namjoon just shakes his head, before grabbing a hold of his fork and diving into his dessert. 

As the cake is cut and distributed, the conversation builds up again and the sugar has started to hit. Your plate is cleared, but Namjoon can’t get past all the sprinkles (which is why they’ve been abandoned on the side of his plate and you took that chance to poke some fun out of him). 

In the midst of all the chatter, the newlyweds return back to the stage, along with Jessica, after the cake-cutting—with Taeyeon behind them, who has begun to set up the stage. 

“I would just like to thank all the guests, once more, who are here to support Tiffany and Kuan Yin,” Jessica says. “Right now, we have Taeyeon, another bridesmaid, who will be singing the song to their first dance!” 

Another round of light applause is given as Taeyeon gives a smile and wave. Meanwhile, Tiffany and Kuan Yin have arrived in the middle of the dance floor, looking at one another with so much love. Namjoon couldn’t help but be a bit envious. 

“Congratulations once more to the happy couple,” Taeyeon says. “This song is for you—I hope your happiness will carry on for the rest of your lives.” 

The guitarist starts to strum to a soft melody and Taeyon’s soothing voice starts to move throughout the venue. Other guests start to make their way to the dance floor as well, joining the slow dance. Namjoon moves his head along to the calm tune, swaying to it with his eyes closed. 

He hears your chair move and he peaks an eye open, only to see you standing with a hand out to him. 

“Would you like to join me for a dance?” 

“I thought we agreed I should never be dancing,” he jokes. 

You pout, putting your hand down. “We’ve been to so many weddings and haven’t danced once.” You put your hand out once more, wiggling your fingers underneath his chin. “Is little Joonie afraid?” 

“We both know I’m not the best dancer.” 

Your pout deepens and you take your hand away again. He has to stop himself from leaning back to your touch. 

“That’s your insecurity talking,” you say. “Besides you don’t know until you try.”

He lets out a sigh, hiding a smile, and wordlessly puts out his hand for you. “Okay, (Y/N). I trust you. Please lead the way.” 

Your pout turns back to a smile, easily grabbing his hand and leading him towards the bright tiles where the other guests are dancing. 

Taking the initiative, as per usual, you put his hands on your waist and lightly place your hands on his shoulders. He hopes you don’t notice how shaky his hands are, or how much more sweaty his palms have gotten. His heart pounds even harder in his chest from the close proximity.

He let out an exhale, trying to keep it under his breath to avoid hitting your face with his glittery cake breath. Despite being friends for the longest time, Namjoon can’t remember a time he’d been this close to you. There had been a couple of times when you would drunkenly cling to him or the time you asked for a piggyback ride… But he’s never seen you like this upclose. 

Under the sparkling lights, he can make out your features. Your eyes shine with excitement and anticipation, but he can’t tell from what. The way the slope of your nose dips is pretty, he notes—he’s never noticed. Your lips… they practically mock him. 

He can feel his throat feeling dry again. Where are the champagne flutes when he needs them? 

Even as he tries to avoid eye contact, your eyes don’t leave his face. A teasing smile appears when you take notice of his darkening cheeks. 

“What’s wrong?” you jib. “You’re doing good. Are you focusing all of your brain cells into your dancing?” 

He rolls his eyes at you, but it’s without malice. “Haha,” he says. “You know I didn’t have that many to begin with.” 

“You have 148 IQ.” 

“Let it go, (Y/N).” He sighs. “Let it go.” 

This time you roll your eyes at him, giving him a light shove. “You’re literally so smart. You need to embrace that more.” 

“Don’t get too cocky on my behalf,” he says. “I think I got burnt out by the time we graduated.” 

“Everyone gets burnt out,” you say. “Whether it’s emotionally, physically… Life has a way of doing that to you.” You lean a bit closer, settling your hands on the back of his neck. “What you choose to afterwards is how you decide its impact on you.” 

He straightens up a bit, but doesn’t necessarily move away from you, putting himself in a more comfortable position. “You don’t ever seem burnt out,” he says. “I wish I had that endless energy. I might actually be able to do something productive with my life.” 

“Hey,” you say. “You’re doing it again.” 

“Doing what?” 

“Downplaying your abilities.” You let out a sigh. “You did it, not even, two minutes ago. You haven’t even stepped on my foot; you’re going just fine.” 

He feels the heat on the back of his neck, hoping you don’t say anything about it. “Not yet, at least. Have you forgotten that tango class I accidentally registered for?” 

You grin from the memory. “Considering that we were able to grow closer from it and it was required, not accidental… I have not.” You tilt your head at him. “But did you forget?” 

“Forget what?” 

“How much you improved by the time the semester ended.” 

“I don’t know, (Y/N),” he says. “I didn’t get worse and that was all I was aiming for.” 

“Sure, you weren’t perfect, but you were pretty good by the end of it. Admit that, at least.” 

“Fine, I was pretty good at it.” He looks directly at you. “Satisfied?” 

“Not really, but I’ll take it.” 

The two of you sway for a bit, listening to the music and enjoying each other’s company. At some point, you lean against him with closed eyes. He smiles to himself, subconsciously pulling you closer and breathing in the faint scent of your shampoo. Letting out another sigh, he can’t help but think of himself that he could get used to you in his arms. 

April 28th, 2020

Tuesday, 4PM 

The Roasted Bean

—

“Do you want to come to China with me?” 

You choke on your tea. “Shit,” you manage to cough out with. 

Namjoon scrambles to pass you the napkins and can only look at you with concern as you continue to cough. He waits for you patiently, expecting this kind of response from you.

When you had agreed to meet up with him for coffee, Namjoon said to himself he was going to plan what he would say to you… cut to the day of and he had planned nothing except, well, that. 

Damn, procrastination really doesn’t stop. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. You dab the corners of your mouth, trying to wipe off the remains of the tea that spilled from your lips. Your hands settle on the table as you look at him incredulously. “Did I hear that correctly?” 

“In hindsight, maybe I should have provided some context.” 

“A little would have been nice,” you say with a slight shrug. 

He lets out a sigh, shifting in his seat. “I’m going to Jackson’s wedding,” he says. “... which is located in Hong Kong. I made the reservation awhile back, so I took a couple of vacation days to go to it and join them in the festivities. I even got Jungkook to dogsit RapMon, but, then again, that could easily go downhill. But, I thought, you know, since we’re, like, wedding buddies, you might want to go with me?” 

“Wedding buddies?” you ask with a raise of your eyebrow. “I guess that’s one way of putting it.” You take another sip of your tea. 

“It’ll be fun?” he says with an awkward smile. “Besides, you know Jackson.”

“I’ve met him a couple of times, yeah.” You take another sip from your cup. “I obviously wasn’t close enough to get an invite, but I know him.” You try to think, as if you were pondering the pros and cons. “I do know some people who were going to be in the wedding too.” 

“You do?” He shouldn’t be surprised, but couldn’t help the curiosity. 

“Yeah, there’s Mark. There’s also Jinyoung and Youngji.” 

“Even if you didn’t know anyone,” he says. “It’s not like you won’t make new friends.” 

You give him a shy, but proud smile in return. “I do adapt well.” Your eyebrows round from a realization. “Wait.” You give him a confused look. “You were originally planning on going to China…. by yourself?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks with a slight pout. “Is it a bad idea?” 

“No,” you say. “Rather the opposite.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“How do I say it?” you mutter, more to yourself than aloud. “I guess—it might just be because I know what you’re like.” 

“... Elaborate.” 

“It’s not supposed to be a bad thing. It’s just that—I say this with affection, okay?” You clear your throat a little and lean back into your seat. “You don’t really leave your comfort zone, which isn’t a bad thing—it’s just a bit surprising that you are willing to leave the comforts of your home.” He doesn’t get the chance to respond; you continue to talk. “But, another thing I know is you’re fierce loyal, so it’s not necessarily that surprising. Even then, it’s a good surprise because this might be good for you.” 

There’s a brief pause as he thinks to himself, absentmindedly swirling the remains of his coffee from his glass. You’re right (with both of your points). It’s not that he’s offended, or mad. It’s just that… you’re right. That’s it. 

He knows he’s more of an introvert, which isn’t a bad thing—he just takes a bit longer to adjust to new surroundings and unfamiliar people. He’s very self-aware of it rather than self-conscious about it. To be honest, he really didn’t think things through all the way; he couldn’t say no to Jackson, especially considering how close they are with one another. The thought of brushing up on his Chinese also crossed his mind momentarily, but this trip is really more about supporting Jackson and Hua Yi. 

“Namjoon?” 

He freezes, snapping out of his thoughts. “Sorry, I just, like, spaced out.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah, just lost in thought.” He clears his throat. “What were you saying?” 

“Nothing of that much importance, but—” You pause. “I just think this would be good for you, you know? You’d get some time off from work, get together with your friends, explore a new place, etc.” 

“It’s just a week or so,” he says. “It’s not much, but… it’s something.” 

“Yeah, but you never know.” 

He hums, agreeing with you, as he taps his fingers lightly against the table. The tapping stops. “Wait, you never answered my question.” 

“Wait, what was the question?”

  He chuckles. “Did you want to accompany me to Jackson’s wedding in China?” 

“Well,” you drag out, fiddling with your napkin. “I would need to see all the details, figure out a couple of things, but, overall…” You practically beam at him. “I’d love to.”

May 13th, 2020 

Wednesday, 9AM 

East Asian Airlines

Incheon International Airport

—

You nearly elbow him as you try to settle into your seat. Your neck pillow barely hangs on your shoulders, as you reach over to adjust the incline and decline with one hand and manage your downloaded playlist on your phone with the other. 

“Whoa,” Namjoon says, trying to escape from your flailing arms. “You know this isn’t an overnight flight, right?” 

You let out an exasperated exhale that’s far more dramatic than it needed to be. “Joonie, comfort is always a priority.” 

“I didn’t say anything was wrong with comfort,” he started to say. “I’m just saying it’s a bit much for a four hour flight that you’re 100% going to fall asleep on.” 

Your jaw drops. “The audacity.” 

“Am I wrong?” 

Your jaw promptly closes at his words, your lips twisting to the side. “No,” you mutter.

He lets out a laugh, patting your head as some type of reconciliation—messing it up a bit. “Sorry, I only speak the truth.” 

You grumble in your seat once more, playfully glaring at him with a petty look in your eyes. Without breaking eye contact, you lightly slap his hand away and start to fix the mess he created on your head. “Says the man who told Taehyung he looked handsome after his home haircut, but okay. Pop off.” 

His eyes narrow at your sarcasm, but he doesn’t say another word. 

While you fiddle with the light and air conditioning functions above, he plucks out an airline magazine from the seat in front of him—in an attempt to ignore the numbness of his long legs due to the small, cramped area he’s been provided. 

Curse this capitalistic society and the stupid economy seats. 

He flips open a page, glancing through. Most of the pages are promotions for products that no one really needs. There’s also an absurd amount of pillows that they were insisting to be sold. Who needs a pillow that can work as a lap-desk? Or a bendable neck pillow that can be twisted into a hugging pillow? There’s also a pillow that can be folded into a miniature pillow. These are all awful, he thinks. 

As he inwardly questions and critiques each product, he fails to notice that you’ve finished settling in, tugging on his jacket to get his attention. 

“What’s up?” he asks without looking up. “Finally settled?” 

“Say all you want, Joonie, but when I’m napping like a champ, you’ll be restless in your spot like a chump.” 

He stifles his laughter, raising his eyebrows from your words, flipping through the pages without actually looking through them. “Okay, (Y/N). Whatever you say.” In his peripheral vision, he can see you pouting from his lack of reaction. 

You lean back in your seat, taking another deep breath. “You know, I think this is the first time we’re traveling together, isn’t it?” 

“I think it is.” He looks at you. “This is our first trip together.” 

“Well, first overseas trip.” 

“First overseas trip,” he says with a hum. “You think there’ll be more?” 

You smirk. “Only if this one is a success. But, for now, we’re just wedding buddies.” 

“Wedding buddies?” He lays a hand on his heart in mock hurt. “We’ve known each other for years and this is what our relationship has come to?” 

“You defined it first,” you say with a poke of his chest. “If anyone is to blame, it’s you.” 

His lips are pulled back—half frustrated at himself and half disappointed. Before he can retort, the bell has been rung and the attendant’s voice comes on over the intercom. 

“All passengers, please take your seats as we are taking off at 9AM sharp.” 

Another bell rings and the seatbelt image flashes on. The attendants go around, checking the seatbelts and others begin to start the safety procedures. Namjoon tries to remember it all, but eventually finds himself accidentally tuning out the information. Sensing his panic, you remind him that it’s also in the same pocket he’d been grabbing magazines out of. 

After a little while, the plane starts to ascend. Both you and Namjoon wordlessly look out the window, taking in the view as the buildings get smaller and smaller. Once the captain had announced that passengers are now allowed to roam about the cabin (with reason, of course), you lean back in your seat and plop in your other headphone. 

“Wake me up when we’re descending?” you ask. 

He nods, letting you play your music and close your eyes. About twenty minutes pass and you’re already asleep, But, your neck pillow is still barely hanging on your shoulders. He manages to adjust it comfortably for you, without waking you up—he’d call that a victory for his clumsy ass. 

To pass some time, he goes through some more magazines, eventually getting bored of them. He should’ve downloaded a playlist or something; granted, you did nag him a bit to do so at the terminal gate because you didn’t want him being bored on the plane. 

As usual, you were right. 

He looks over at you once more, before deciding that he should nap too. 

If he’s being honest, he was too nervous last night to get any sleep at the thought of spending, nearly, an entire week with you… in an unfamiliar country. He really didn’t think these things through. On one hand, it’s normal to invite long-time friends on trips and go to events together, platonically. On the other hand, he technically had feelings for you. But, he also thought those feelings had died down… until he actually started to talk to you again. 

Deep down, he knows the feelings never really died but that’s a conversation he’s not ready to engage in. But, he’s also aware that he’s stupid and lacked the brain cells to even think of the possible cons that would come when he invited you to an overseas wedding...

Sleep, Namjoon thinks. Sleep is great for avoiding problems like these. 

He lets out a long sigh, settling into his seat with a close of his eyes. 

Yes, sleep is the best solution. 

...

Ding. “Passengers, you will need to return to your seats soon as we are close to our destination.” Ding. 

As Namjoon starts to regain consciousness, the light from his window that shines on his face stirs him awake. He lets out a sigh, lifting his head from yours as he rubs his eyes. You remain asleep on his shoulder with your headphones still intact, but your neck pillow sits uselessly in your lap. 

He’s suddenly awake and aware of your current position. He unconsciously clears his throat, instantly feeling thirsty, causing you to shift a bit closer to him. 

The intercom comes on once more. “Once again, passengers, if you could please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts, we’re going to begin to descend soon.” 

From the announcement, he lightly shakes you. “(Y/N),” he whispers. 

When it doesn’t work, he shakes you a bit harder. “(Y/N).” 

You let out a groan from being awoken. “Ten more minutes.” 

He shakes you again with a bit of a laugh. “You don’t have ten minutes.” 

“Give me ten minutes then.” 

“No, wake up.” 

“No.” 

“(Y/N),” he whines. “Wake up.” 

You let out another groan, reluctantly opening your eyes—immediately shutting them from the bright lights of the afternoon sky. “Are we there yet?” 

“Nearly,” he says. “Why did you think I woke you up?” 

“To torture me?” 

“I wouldn’t do that to my precious wedding buddy.”

“Damn,” you say. “Your sass levels are up.” 

He laughs in response. 

Your conversation is interrupted as the bell rings once again, the attendant’s voice filling the air. 

“All passengers, we are descending to our destination.” 

You let a small squeal of excitement from the official announcement, leaning out towards the window to take in the new sights. He can’t help but smile at your childlike wonder, moving himself out of the way for you to take in the scenery as the clouds start to part. 

“We apologize that there will be a bit of turbulence, so if you may all please fasten your seatbelts for your safety. Once again, we are starting our descent—passengers, we welcome you to Hong Kong. Thank you for choosing to fly with East Asian Airlines. We hope you’ve had a wonderful trip.” 

A/N: Thank you for reading the first part of Plus Two! Please do not ask about updates—you can check the upcoming page to check on the status of the second half!