#but o got one more cookie post lined up and i’ll stop. Sound good? I’ll figure it out

[bluebutlikenotalways]

Hi! Kisses on the pearl for you!

[realcube]

soft haikyuu!! boys with a baddie* s/o  😈

characters:  yamaguchi, hinata, suga, akaashi, nishinoya & tendou

tw// swearing

*(a/n): anon requested a kinda sassy, sarcastic reader and verbatim ‘she is basically a salt bag, but she also has like some sugar’  so i simplified that down to baddie :) so the reader isn’t really a delinquent but they are a bit rough around the edges uffabvrslbv 

Tadashi Yamaguchi

he definitely thinks you’re really cool and he wants to be just like you :O

bc you give off ‘bad bitch who doesn’t care about what other ppl think about them’ energy and what he would give tO HAVE THAT!!

so that’s when he knew he needed to be your friend >:) 

so he was like ‘tsukki, go talk to (y/n) for me >:)’ thinking that was his first step to becoming confident pfft

luckily, god was on his side though bc the teacher rearranged the seats and you and him were sitting next to each other 

hence, he got the opportunity to talk to you without it seeming too forced

you both fell for each other so hard

like he would act tough to try impress you but you preferred his natural softness while you tried to act uncharacteristically docile so you wouldn’t scare him off but he liked you for your boldness 

it was a match made in heaven 💞

he eventually worked up the courage to ask you out one day and y’all have just been falling more ever since

although, that doesn’t mean yamaguchi’s forgotten one of the main reasons he wanted to be with you in the first place

‘please teach me your ways, (y/n)!’ he pleaded, his head resting on your lap so you had to cover his puppy-eyes with your phone

‘no, tadashi. firstly, you’re sweet and gentle- you’re just built like that. secondly, i don’t have any ‘ways’ to teach you!’

yamaguchi continued to pry, ‘then how are you just so effortlessly self-assured?’

‘who told you that, tadashi?’

‘no one.’ yamaguchi poked the back of your hand to get you to move it, ‘but remember that time one of the guys in our class tried to make fun of the size of your head and you told him to shut up?’

you rolled your eyes, setting your phone aside before placing a brief kiss on yamaguchi’s forehead, ‘he said he couldn’t see the board because of my ‘big head’, tadashi; that’s hardly an insult. also, what else could i have possibly said other than that?’

but then you remembered this is yamaguchi you’re talking to; if that was him, he’d probably apologise, move his head aside then cry in the bathroom or sumn.

‘i should be the one asking you why you’re so insecure. i mean, i know everyone is a little bit insecure about something but you just take it to a whole other level.’ you mused, absentmindedly massaging his scalp

yamaguchi frowned, ‘exactly! teach me how to stop being insecure.’

‘no please, no thank you?’ you inquired with a snicker, realising that your habits might of accidentally rubbed off on him

bc just a few weeks ago, he’d be thanking you for breathing the same air as him but now he didn’t even say ‘please’ when asking for a favour 

gasp

‘please teach me how to be resilient, (y/n).’

you chuckled, leaning down to whisper in his ear, ‘okay, since you’re so polite, i’ll tell you my secret - but promise not to tell anybody else!.’

‘i promise.’ yamaguchi replied without hesitation

‘okay, first thing you need to do is go to the depths of hell and find satan hims--’ 

yamaguchi let out a sigh as he realised that you weren’t being serious then playfully flicked your forehead away, ‘rude.’

you beamed, pressing another kiss upon his forehead, ‘i know~’

Shōyō Hinata

let’s not pretend hinata wasn’t shitting his pants when he first heard about you from kageyama

‘they called me a shitty setter the other day.’

but kageyama failed to mention the part where he cut you in line for lunch 🙄 mans had it coming

like hinata genuinely thought that if he came within a 5 foot radius of you, you’d literally come for volleyball career

plus, hinata knew he had a lot of things to be insults on (mostly, his height) so he decided to keep his distance at first 

but when he actually saw you - rather than a vague description that kageyama conjured - he kinda fell head over heels

well, not only bc of your looks - he isn’t that shallow

but the same day, you dropped your purse/wallet on the walk home and ,mhsince hinata was walking behind you, he acted as any good Samaritan would; picked it up then handed it to you 

then you said something along the lines of ‘thanks, shorty.’

not shawty. lord- shorty as in short with a y at the end

and whether you meant that as a dig or not was beyond him - but either way, he fkn adored it 

also it doesn’t matter whether you are taller or shorter than hinata- he is still short-stuff >:)

by some miracle he managed to ask you out successfully and he’s kinda been glued to you ever since

like he wants to spend every second that he’s not at volleyball club/school with you 

and if you tell him he’s being clingy, he’s going to cry-

nonono jk jk

he’d probably be a bit offended but then give you your space

also, you noticed how he was really endeared by the tad mean nicknames you gave him like ‘shorty’, ‘short stuff’ and ‘ginger’

the only ones he didn’t like was ‘boke’ or ‘dumbass’ bc it reminded him too much of kageyama + tsukishima

so you started calling him these things - teasingly - more frequently 

and he loves it ngl

as long as you aren’t truly mean to him, he enjoys being called these things by you for some reason

so, his first mistake was assuming that you’d like being called these joking nicknames just as much as he does

you were helping him with english once and it’s definitely not his strong suit

same, hinata

‘look at that! you spelt all your vocabs correctly, for a change.’ you commented, peering over the desk at the paper sitting in front of him

his eyes widened and his lips curled into a hopeful smile, ‘really?!’

‘no.’ you snickered, pointing to the first word on the list. ‘your word was taxis - you wrote ‘texas’, dumbass.’

hinata let out an exasperated sigh, propping his elbow onto the table to rest his cheek on his palm

then, he had an idea ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

‘alright, stupidface, should i rewrite them?’

you gasped, furrowing your brows at what he just called you 

for a moment, you thought you might’ve misheard him but upon observing his smug expression, you realised that he really did just call you a ‘stupidface’ 

so you burst out laughing 

obviously, hinata was rather shocked at your reaction

‘hey! what’s so funny?’

‘di- di- did you just call me a ‘stupidface’?!’ you panted in-between cackles, clutching your stomach to soothe the butterflies

hinata jutted out his bottom lip and folding his arms over his chest, ‘yeah, what about it?’

‘that is so cute!- do it again!’ you demanded, enthusiastically slamming your fist against the desk

‘IT’S NOT CUTE!’ hinata barked, playfully flicking your forehead 

once you caught your breath, you took hinata’s hands and looked him dead in the eyes, ‘you’re fucking adorable, shōyō.’

the hoarseness of your voice making it sound like somewhat of a threat 

‘you’re adorable-er, (y/n).’

‘i know.’

Kōshi Sugawara 

he admires how strong and independent you are/seem 😍

and the fact you don’t go out of your way to suck-up to ppl 

he kinda wants to be like you in that sense but unlike yamaguchi, he accepts that he’s way too much of a people pleaser for that lol

so he sticks to admiring you from afar

then he musters up the courage to ask you out with some chocolate cupcakes; the same kind that you accidentally got on his blazer on the first day of second year :))

and you say yes (╯▽╰ )

also a big part of your relationship is aggressive positivity ✨😡

like if he makes a joke about looking crusty, you’ll promptly respond, ‘shut up, kōshi - you look so hot.’

or if you berate yourself for getting a poor mark on a test, suga will interrupt with no hesitation, ‘fuck off, (y/n), you’re literally so smart and hard working - you’ll probably get 100% on the next test.’

also when he’s around you he switches between canon and fanon suga rapidly 

one second he’s like ‘aww, are you stressed bc of school? i’ll bake you some cookies, baby--’ then you’ll jokingly make a comment about his post-practise B.O and he’ll literally get so defensive

‘WOW I OFFER YOU SOMETHING NICE AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME?! STOP BEING SO MEAN TO ME, COMING FOR MY INSECURITES LIKE THAT  - I WAS JUST ABOUT TO GO FOR A SHOWER ANYWAY GEEZ’ ┗|｀O′|┛

ISVBFELIAEA plz he is too much ✋

he just prides himself in smelling like ocean breeze 99% of the time so you really didn’t need to hurt his feelings like that when you caught him lackin c’mon LMAO

‘wait so are we making cookies or not?’ you inquired, stifling a snicker at his little diva moment

‘ofc we are 🥺’  

he’ll probably use red icing on one of the cookies to draw a ‘>:(’ face then hand it to you, saying that he drew you

he’ll also break of bits of his own cookie and feed it to you’re doing something that requires both hands like typing, homework, dishes etc

whether you eat it from his hand happily, decline his offer or bite his fingers off is really up to you 

and over time, he probably picks up on some of your traits too

especially being more straight-forward 

the team will never forget the first time he was chatting about something with the vice principle and ‘sorry, but i don’t remember asking’  fell from his lips 

everyone was shocked :o

tsukishima, tanaka & noya were so impressed tho

and so were you IVBEAOGVRN

‘wow, suga. you wanna be me so bad.’ you gloated, pressing your hand against your chest 

‘GAEIVBSLR leave me alone.’ he growled, toiling over the apology letter he was currently writing to the vice principal

Keiji Akaashi 

he wanted you to be the dark academia to his light academia pfft

it was very much love at first sight btw 

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ soulmates  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

the embodiment of opposites attract

he’d write you a poem/love letter to ask you out lol

‘you’re so sappy and lame, akaashi’ you scoffed in attempt to hide the smile that was tugging at the corners of your lips as your eyes finally parted from the letter to meet his 

he couldn’t help but chuckle, ‘so is that a no?’

‘-nonono!’ you shook your head rapidly, hastily correcting him, ‘it’s a yes.’

phew 

honestly, he acted all nonchalant on the outside, but akaashi would’ve been devastated if you rejected him

like he constantly tried to remind himself that you would probably say no, i mean he thought you were way out of his league. plus, it didn’t seem as though you were as much of a romantic as him

but fortunately, apart of him stayed hopeful 

now he was cuddled up beside you on a cold winters’ evening, casually drinking is hot cocoa as you both watched a disney movie (❤´艸｀❤)

he’s the type to not even care or retort if you call him stupid or whatever

as long as your context makes it clear that you’re joking 

he’d never call you those names back though ✋

to him, you’re always gonna be ‘love’ or ‘sweetheart’

also, he’s probably equally as sarcastic as you so that’s not an issue 

ngl he probably gets really insecure when you’re hesitant about PDA tho

like he just wants to hold your hand but he doesn’t want to force it upon you and make you uncomfortable 🥺

but also, perhaps you’re too embarrassed by him to kiss him in public 

so please occasionally reassure him that you love him (；′⌒`) that always washes all his worries away 

Yū Nishinoya

it’s literally canon that he likes ppl who show 0 interest in him (kiyoko, tsukki etc)

so it shouldn’t be surprising that he’s all over you after that one time you called him a midget 

to be fair, he had it coming - he stepped on your fkn toe >:(( 

he does everything in his power to impress you and get you to take back what you said 

‘hey, (y/n)!’ he calls out to you in the middle of the bustling lunch hall, ‘could a midget do this?!’ *backflips off the table*

or when he demanded that you come to one of his volleyball games so you could see what he’s capable of and whenever he makes a good receive, he turns to look at you in the stands and winks/ points

or when he actually studies for a test just so he can flaunt his slightly above average grade to you 

‘look, (y/n), i got a 49%!’ he waves a paper in front of your face, which you stare at before lowering your gaze onto your 95%.

but ngl..he really brings out that lil’ bit of sugar in you 

‘well done, noya.’ you choked out feeling your dignity slowly fade in your chest

he’s just so enthusiastic and charming how can you be mean to him 🥺

to his face, at least

as soon as he leaves you beef about him to your friends

‘he is so annoyingly bodacious - audacious! why does he feel the need to show me all of his achievements like i care??? and why does he have to be so cute while doing it???’

‘do you think you maybe have a teeny-tiny crush on him?--’

‘never.’

nishinoya probably asks you out pretty casually like ‘lemme take you bowling this saturday and i can show how good i am at that too!’ he offered with a bright, bold smile

‘sure, whatever.’

‘kay! it’s a date!’

‘wut-’ but before you could question him further, he sped off

nishinoya really likes to fluster and tease you 

you’ll be sitting waiting for him at the park or whatever and he’ll swagger in and shout something like ‘how’s my gorgeous s/o doing today?! i hope you weren’t waiting for me too long!--’

then you’ll have to quickly shush him before everyone with a 7 feet radius is looking at you judgementally 

he also likes to call you the most extra nicknames just to see you blush

‘good morning, my beautiful, divine, radiant god(dess) who i worship every morning of my life!~’ he sung as he waltzed into your classroom to spend lunch with you 

but he only does that bc you are so dismissive of his advances lol

like if you openly adored his kisses and nicknames, he’d probably do them sparingly  

oh and he calls you ‘my hunny bunny’ too - don’t ask why 

Satori Tendō

you gave him your number/snap for a project and he’s one of those ppl that just assumes that y’all are friend now lol

but that wasn’t nessicarily a bad thing bc you thought he was really cool and you were happy that you still got to talk to him even after the project was over 

not that you’d ever admit it tho (╹ڡ╹ )

he’d send you cursed memes at 3AM and you’d reply like ‘mood’  then he’d fall for you 

you’d also have random, deep convos in the middle of the night 

hence he fell for you even harder 

especially bc he basically just shared his whole life story with you 

he’d spill out all his insecurities to you then you’d reply like ‘ok’ then he knew he had to ask you out bc you’re the first person not to have left him on read

so he asked you to meet him in the park and you’d reply ‘no lol  🖕 ‘ 

then he’d just smile at his phone like ‘wow, they’re so in love with me’

he’s just so used to his friends being mean to him jokingly that he can’t even tell if you’re being serious or not

so he goes to the park at the time he put forward, and ofc you’re there even though you said no bc you didn’t want tendō to show up for nothing 🥺

he was ecstatic that you were there and he probably brought you an energy drink or lollipop then asked you out

and ofc you said yes

i mean- you had kinda developed a soft spot for the poor guy 

you’d let him get away with certain things that others couldn’t around you 

for instance, you’d let him borrow your pencils/pens despite usually not allowing others to get ahold of your stuff

but that was just coz like- he’s your trustworthy bf- not some random classmate who had no reason or motive to be kind enough to return your pencils 

also, you’d let him cut in front of you in the lunch line and he did the same for you

oh and please bully anyone who makes fun of him 🙏

[clynnra]

Strongest Together

After that disappointing last ten minutes of the series finale, I didn't think I would ever write for my beloved boys again. But, thanks to binging lots of episodes of the show on ion since it started airing there (happy to post this story on one of ion's Five-O Fridays) and reading many fix-it fics, I had to do this for Danny. I will be forever bitter that our last glimpse of him ever was hurt (physically and emotionally) and alone on Steve's beach. So this is my way of fixing that sad image. There's background (literally, just a few minor mentions) Steve/Catherine and Danny/others, but this is a McDanno story. I didn't want to vilify Steve, since he should take care of himself and find peace, so I hope that comes across. Finally, eternal thanks to my beta PhoebeMiller for making my story way better than it was with her fantastic feedback about story line, diction, and all the grammar. She's an awesome writer in her own right - go read her wonderful stories! And always thanks to SheppardMcKay for inspiring me to post fic.

Steve and Danny. Danny and Steve. Steve left Danny. Danny was alone.

Sighing, Danny knew he had his kids, his family and the team. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt so fucking much. Days like today, it still hurt to breathe.

Danny didn’t begrudge Steve finding his peace. Or his taking care of himself. Hell, he tried to instill self preservation in his Neanderthal time and again. But when Steve finally took his advice and put himself first, it had ripped Danny’s heart to shreds.

It still hurt so damn much because of the way Steve left. The timing sucked. Just out of the hospital, Danny could barely walk even with his cane. This proved Steve was hiding the depth of his own suffering. Normally, he'd never leave Danny when he was injured. Danny smiled and remembered Steve raiding his house for cookies after he'd been shot in quarantine. The fondness bubbling up just about killed him.

More memories of this year from hell came back, and Danny had to sit down. He'd moved himself into Steve's house after Doris died because he sensed Steve needed him. The loss was just too much after Joe's death. When Joanna had died, Steve was there for him, cooking him eggs most mornings, claiming routine was good. Danny knew Steve was talking about himself, too.

They'd fallen into something Danny dared call a relationship when he was awake late at night, insomnia raging. He and Steve lived together. They ate meals together most nights. They walked Eddie, locked up the house and said good night like a couple.

A couple of idiots, Danny grumbled now. Or was he the biggest idiot? He'd made this huge leap into what proved to be a lonely abyss.

What hurt the most was Steve pretty much rejecting the idea of the two of them growing old together on that beach. Danny didn't know for sure when his best friend would return from his Kung Fu adventures. He'd only counted on Steve coming home at some point. Now, when he replayed their last conversation, the dagger twisted in his chest even more.

The sad fact was - Danny loved Steve. Not just like a friend. He loved him like I want to spend the rest of my life with you even though you drive me crazy, you caveman. He never told Steve he was in love with him. Danny was scared and convinced such an admission would be suicide. Because he feared their friendship would be over, was so sure of it, in fact, that he kept all of his feelings locked away. He didn't want to fuck up the best friendship he'd ever had.

Not to mention, Steve was straight. He'd never given Danny any hint that he was interested. Unless you counted Steve's octopus arms and his total disregard for Danny's personal space. Which Danny did not dwell on. No way could he let himself go there. That's why he'd pushed Steve into dating. First Brooke and then the vet. Neither had really worked out, and Danny did not allow himself to question why. He would have kept on searching for the perfect mate for Steve, too, if he hadn't left. Even though Danny wanted it to be him.

No one knew Danny's secret. Although he mostly dated women, he had a few relationships with men while at Seton Hall. He kept his attraction to men close to the vest. He'd thought his college experiments were in the rearview mirror until the giant goof stole his crime scene.

To distract himself from the heartbreak over Steve’s dating, he’d focused on reconciling with Rachel in a vain attempt to stitch his family back together. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, it just didn’t work since he was in love with Steve. When they finally figured out they were better as friends, Rachel shocked him with advice to stop dithering and tell Steve. He was so taken aback by Rachel’s accurate insight into his heart, past all his bullshit, he’d gone to that bar and met Joanna. Like so many other things in his life, hooking up with her to forget Rachel and Steve had ended all kinds of bad. Spectacular didn't even cut it. Joanna's death wasn't his fault. This he knew. But he couldn't stop feeling guilty. She was with him in the car because of how he'd chosen to mend himself, and she'd died after everything he'd done to try to save her.

And of course, there was Catherine. He envied her for having Steve the way he wanted. She knew every inch of him. She knew so many more secrets.  Steve had opened his heart to her - and what had she done? She'd pulled a Doris. More than once. And the idiot took her back.

Weren't they a pair? Danny knew he was a hypocrite for being angry with Steve about getting back with an ex time and again. He didn't care. He couldn't help feeling upset that Steve was with Catherine (probably this very minute) and not him.

+++++++

Three months had passed since Steve left, and Danny’s PT was coming along well. He texted Steve a few times a week to check in, while Steve returned his texts within a couple hours. They’d spoken on the phone a few times, and Danny lost himself in the comforting cadence of Steve’s voice. Their calls ranged from about 20 minutes to almost an hour, and their talks were nice. But during one of their conversations, as he listened to Steve chatter on about what he did in whatever destination he was currently staying, Danny realized that Steve’s journey to find himself didn’t include him. Steve didn’t need him like Danny needed him. And that revelation punched the breath out of him. He tried to cover it, but Steve, with his keen SEAL senses, heard it.

“Danno, you okay?” Steve interrupted his story about what he saw in Scotland.

“Yeah, babe, I’m ok. Just still get tired sometimes. Had PT this morning and energy kinda zapped. You mind if we pick this up some other time? I’m gonna have a lie down.” Danny chewed his lips as he lied. It was a white lie, but still.

“Ok… you take care buddy. I love you.” Steve said with a note of concern.

“You too.” replied Danny. He couldn’t tell Steve he loved him on their calls because he didn’t want Steve to hear how in love with him he was. Texting “love you, too” was fine, but when he said it, he felt his heart in his throat.

Putting his phone down, Danny glanced around himself. He was still at Steve’s house sitting on his couch. Eddie was laying on the floor nearby. And Danny came to a decision. Steve was out finding himself, and Danny really needed to do the same. He had spent so much of the past ten years being part of Steve and Danny that outside of being a father to Grace and Charlie and being on the task force, he‘d kinda lost himself. He felt like his life wasn’t making sense after deciding to just be friends with Rachel and then the tragedy with Joanna. He knew that in order to move on with his life, he had to make a change. He would always be there for Steve, but it was time he was there for himself.

A few days later, Steve called again. This time he was in Ireland. He told Danny about the beautiful scenery there, and after he was done, he asked, “So, what are you up to now, Danno? PT almost done right?”

Danny took a deep breath and started. “Funny you should ask that. I, um, I’m gonna move back to my place, Steve.”

There was a moment of stunned silence.

“Why? Danny, is something wrong?” Steve replied, trying to keep a lock on his emotions.

“No, babe.” Danny grimaced and continued. “I just, uh, think it’s time to move back. You know, you’re out there trying to find yourself and your peace without me…”

Steve gasped, “Danny…”

Shaking his head, Danny kept going. “and that’s fine, Steve. I’m not trying to make you feel bad. You deserve to find the peace and happiness you need. I just need to find myself again a bit. After Joanna died, I felt sorta lost. And I was starting to make sense of my life again before Daiyu Mei swooped in…” He didn’t mention and when you left me. Danny shook that thought from his head.

“So, I need to do this. To remember who I was before I was part of Steve and Danny…” he finished with a fake chuckle.

“Danno, are you sure?” Steve asked, a note of sadness in his voice.

Danny nodded even though Steve couldn’t see him. “Yes.”

There was another moment of charged silence.

“Ok, Danno, I got it. You need this, so I got your back. Whatever you need. Hey, I gotta head out, but I’ll call again, alright?” Steve sounded like he was happy for Danny but wasn’t quite believing it.

Danny replied, “Sure. Bye, babe.”

Steve said clearly, “I love you, Danny.”

“You too.” Danny croaked out. When the call ended, he dropped his phone next to him and covered his face with his hands taking in a few deep breaths.

It was time to find who he was again without Steve.

+++++++

Danny finally completed his eight weeks of PT, and his doctor okayed his return to light work aka paperwork. He still had to check in each month since it was his second gunshot wound in his chest in two years. As part of his process to return to Five-O, the governor mandated Danny to complete visits with his therapist since he survived such a traumatic experience. At first, he was annoyed he had to go to therapy again; he’d rather eat pineapple on his pizza. But during the couple of months of sessions about his kidnapping and near death at the hands of Daiyu Mei, he found himself working through various issues including the death of his partner Grace, his guilt over Matty, his complicated relationship with Rachel, Grace’s kidnapping and almost fatal car accident, Charlie’s paternity and medical condition, as well as other work related stresses and traumas. The governor’s directive for Danny’s therapy was once a week for two months, but he continued past that, and for a few weeks, he was going twice a week. He just unloaded whatever was burdening his mind and heart. He felt stronger for it. He even told the therapist about his feelings for Steve, and she suggested that to find closure or peace about it, he should consider discussing his feelings with Steve. Danny knew she was right but wasn’t ready yet. However, talking things out gave him the perspective he needed.

With the end of PT and his ongoing therapy doing well, he told the kids first he was moving out of Steve’s house. They were shocked, Tani near tears while Junior took the news stoically. But once Danny told them why, they were very supportive and helped Danny move to his now renovated place over two weekends. Lou, Quinn, and Adam also chipped in their time to help with Danny’s move. Since Junior moved in with Tani, they figured out a schedule of who would check on Steve’s place and when including the upkeep of the grounds. Junior and Tani told Danny once he was cleared for regular work, he could share some of the maintenance duties. They'd take care of it for now. Tani joked that maybe they could get Kamekona to hire some of his family. Danny rolled his eyes and smacked her. None of them had enough money for that enterprise.

Eddie was another story. Poor guy was just adapting to his master being gone. Now they were relocating him. Danny decided Eddie would live with him, and Junior would take him as time allowed since he loved Eddie, too. It was a good arrangement, as the loyal dog loved each of them. And he enjoyed the extra attention he was getting.

Danny felt like things were starting to get back to the new normal without Steve while he was at work doing paperwork and running point for any cases from HQ if needed. He surprised himself that he got the hang of the HQ computer table after getting lots of help from the team. Quinn was especially patient, and he appreciated it.

While Danny settled back at work, he still kept in contact with Steve. His best friend would mostly text him to check in with how things were going and send some pictures of gorgeous landscapes and appetizing food. When they did talk on the phone here and there, Steve would catch Danny up on things with him. Danny winced when Steve spoke about Catherine, but tried to sound as supportive as possible. He had to keep reminding himself that if Steve was happy with her, he would just have to accept it. And during one of these phone calls, Danny promised himself that he needed to start dating again. He may be in love with Steve, but he also owed it to himself to move forward and not spend the rest of his life pining after his best friend who was happy with the love of his life.

In a bold move, he asked Adam to be his wingman, explaining he needed to shake things up. He wanted to reclaim who he was before Daiyu Mei and even before his last disastrous attempt to get back with Rachel. What he left unspoken was his need to reinvent himself without Steve.

Adam didn’t even raise an eyebrow and had replied, “You got it, brother. You were there for me when I was lost without Kono, so I’m here for you.”

Danny was so grateful. They went to nice bars, the types professionals patronize. Danny did score dates with some doctors, lawyers, and accountants. He surprised Adam by dating both men and women, but after that initial shock, Adam supported his choices, even offering to set Danny up with friends. He even went on a few double dates with Adam and Tamiko. The companionship was nice, and the sex even nicer, but Danny didn’t feel like any of these people would help him get over Steve. At least he felt like his life was more balanced and not just focused on Steve all the time.

When he first mentioned to Steve that he was dating again, there was a silence long enough that Danny thought the call dropped. He could easily FaceTime Steve but just could not find the courage to see his beloved face again. The phone calls offered distance, a buffer. And Danny needed it so he could continue to support Steve and survive his updates when they included Catherine.

Just when Danny was ready to ask his best friend if he could hear him, an exaggeratedly upbeat Steve jumped back in.

“Hey, buddy, I’m glad you’re getting out there again. You deserve to be happy, too.” His voice cracked on the last bit.

After that last odd tone from Steve, they continued like normal when Danny filled him in on the latest with Grace and Charlie. The rest of the call was pleasant with some of their usual teasing.

But on the next call when Danny mentioned how he and Keith went on a double date with Adam and Tamiko, Steve choked and started coughing on the phone.

“Hey, babe, you ok? Don’t choke on the butter in your coffee, alright?” Danny joked.

Steve got his breath back and said, “Sorry, went down the wrong tube. Wait, so you’re dating guys now, Danny?”

Danny didn’t care for Steve’s tone, but answered, “Well, I did date a few guys back in college, but just stopped once I met Rachel.” He didn’t mention and once I met you. “Is that gonna be a problem for you, Steven?”

Steve quickly responded, “Of course not, Danny. I’m just shocked you never told me this in the over ten years we’ve known each other. And for the record, it’d be hypocritical of me if it was.”

Now it was Danny’s turn to gasp. “Wait, when the hell were you dating guys, Steve? In all the years we’ve been together, you’ve only talked about women.”

Sighing, Steve said, “Well, I didn’t really date guys, Danny. When I was deployed, I helped my teammates out like they helped me. So to be more specific, I’ve had sex with guys, but not actually dated them. I enjoyed the sex and was even attracted to some of the guys, but DADT kept me from being open about being sexually attracted to men.”

Danny couldn’t help himself. “Did Cath know?”

Steve chuckled briefly. “Of course, man. I told her I slept with several men and was attracted to some. She was cool with it since she had some bi friends and family.”

Danny admired Steve’s honesty, and he wanted to be honest, too.

“Steve, dating these men and women - it’s nothing serious. Don’t get me wrong, the company and sex are great, but they don’t compare to you.”

It sounded like Steve sniffled on the other end of the line. His voice was slightly hoarse. “And just so you know, partner, no one will ever replace you. No one can. Hey, we gotta grab some food…”

Danny teased, “Try not to ruin your food with pineapple, you animal. Enjoy your meal.”

Snickering, Steve added, “Copy that.”

Steve’s voice became sincere again. “I’ll call you again soon, Danno. I love you.”

Automatically, Danny replied, “You, too.”

Steve’s breath hitched before saying, “I miss you, Danny. Talk to you soon. Bye.”

Danny exhaled, “I miss you, too. Bye, babe.”

Once Danny placed his phone down, he was like, good going Williams. You almost told him you’re in love with him while Cath was right there. Don’t be an idiot next time.

+++++++

It had been a week since that eye-opening phone call and about six months since Steve left, Danny had been back to regular responsibilities at work for about a month. His therapy sessions were twice a month now. He was still seeing people but didn’t feel the desperation to date like when he first started a few months ago. He felt confident in his own skin again, feeling better both professionally and personally. But he was still in love with Steve. Danny finally decided. Fuck it. I’ll always love the maniac, I just have to live with it.

And it came to a head during one of their phone calls almost two months later.

Danny couldn’t keep himself from asking, “You happy with Cath, Steve?”

There was a pause before Steve said, “I wouldn’t know. She left about two months ago on another CIA assignment. She offered to come back when her job was over, but I told her that I need stability and consistency and her work didn’t provide that. I said I was proud that she found her way and happy for her that she loved her job. I told her that I would always love her, but she deserved someone who was in love with her.”

Danny’s heart sped up with hope. “So, what are you saying, Steve?”

Steve pushed air through his nose. “I’m saying that I couldn’t commit to her because I’m in love with you.”

“Steve…?” Danny’s voice shook with emotion.

“Danny, every time I told you I love you when we ended our calls, I meant it as I’m in love with you. You never repeated it to me so I assumed you didn’t feel the same way. But once you told me you dated guys, I got hopeful again. And after that phone call, I stopped sleeping with Cath. And she knew something was up with the no sex but never called me on it. That’s just not what we do. Things are easy for us, and when they’re not, we still pretend that they are. But my heart couldn’t just be satisfied with what was easy and familiar anymore. I needed the challenge and passion. I need you.”

Danny confessed, “Babe, I’m in love with you, too. I just couldn’t tell you since I thought you had your happily ever after with Catherine. When I figured you guys were permanent, I dated to move on without you. But it’s no use, Steve. I want you. I want everything with you.”

Choked with emotion, Steve whispered, “Danny.. I’m coming home.”

“I’m so glad, babe. I love you.”

+++++++

Two days later, Danny was at baggage claim. He spotted Steve immediately, tall and gorgeous with a full beard and short but longer than military regulation hair. Steve saw him too, and his face lit up with a huge smile that crinkled his eyes. They moved quickly through the crowd to each other. As he got closer, Danny spotted the specks of white in Steve’s hair and thought it just made his big goof even more handsome. Finally, they were in front of each other. Dropping his duffel, Steve wrapped his arms around Danny hugging him tightly. He tucked his face into Danny’s hair and inhaled deeply.

“Danno, I missed you so much.”

Danny just squeaked out a “me too” while he hugged Steve. He was too busy inhaling the travel worn scent of Steve. He couldn’t get enough of the man he loved. He rubbed his face into Steve’s chest, reveling in the physical presence he had wanted so much all these months and at long last had.

They moved so their foreheads were resting against each other. Breathing the same air, not aware of the bustle of the people around them.

Danny broke their peaceful bubble by moving his face away so he could look into Steve’s eyes. “Did you find the peace you needed, babe?”

Huffing and licking his lips, Steve shook his head. His left hand held Danny’s face as his gaze never wavered. “Not yet, but I’m working on it. I know I’ll get there with therapy and what I need most.”

Danny tilted his head questioningly at Steve.

“You.”

Then Steve kissed Danny. Eyes fluttering closed, Danny returned the kiss. Like this thing they were doing happened every day.

Feeling a surge of joy, Danny broke the kiss with a smile. Smiling himself, Steve opened his eyes.

“I think I need you to repeat yourself, I didn’t quite hear you,” Danny said with a smirk as he pulled Steve down again. This time, the kiss was firmer. Danny nipped Steve's bottom lip and he opened his mouth. Always the control freak, Steve cupped Danny's face so he could move him where he wanted. He hummed contentedly as he tasted Danny. A couple times, their teeth clacked, but their tongues soothed the minor mishaps. The frantic exploration continued until they needed air.

Eyes opening and panting a bit as their lips parted, they grinned at each other goofily.

“I think we gave the airport enough of a show, babe.” Danny joked.

Steve chuckled. He sobered a bit and said, “Danny, I love you.”

Danny smiled brightly as his heart thudded happily. “I love you, too, Steve. Let’s go home.”

“And where is that exactly?” Steve asked mischievously.

“Wherever you and I are together.” Danny replied quickly.

Appeased, Steve grabbed his bag and slung it on his left shoulder. He pulled Danny under his right arm as they walked to the car.

Danny with Steve. Strong on their own. Strongest together.

FIN.

[forgottenword]

Nobody asked for this and I literally have other WIPs and I haven’t gotten around to posting ANYTHING. So here’s this.Also this is written not greatly. It’s my first time trying to write out a story, or even a snippet of one, in years. So bear with me, this is going to be a long journey of finding my style and enjoying writing again.ALSO be warned I did not proof read this (and i will mostly likely never be proof reading this) so um please ignore any typos.

WC: 1818

Hotch x Female Reader (Can be seen as platonic or romantic)

It’d been a hard case. But then again, when did you and the team come back and think “Oh, that one was easy.”? It was only around ten in the morning on a Friday when you all got back to Quantico, and while Hotch sent everyone home to rest for the weekend, you watched as he went straight into his office, closing his door behind him. You mentally rolled your eyes at him and instead of following his orders, you turned to follow the boss man.

“Where you going, pretty lady?” Derek called after you when you weren’t joining the team in the elevator. You stood hesitating, holding open the glass door separating the elevator from the bullpen. You didn’t need to say anything, and instead looked back at him and then back to the door of your chief.

“If anyone will get through to him it’s you, my beauty!” Penelope got out right before the slick metallic elevator doors sandwiched together. You took a deep breath, readying yourself for the stubbornness of a Hotchner.

You take a deep breath before you finally step into the bullpen, your go bag slung over your shoulder, letting the glass door swing gently shut behind you. You let your bag drop as you walk by your desk, already feeling ten times lighter, you make your way to Hotch’s office. After climbing the few steps to his office, you brace yourself for the conversation to come.

It’s true, what Penelope said, you’re the only one that’ll be able to pry Hotch from his work. You joined the team not long after Rossi, the two of you immediately bonding after he got over his lone wolf thing. It didn’t take long for you to bond with the rest of the team either, all of them soon taking you under their wing as a new profiler. However, it didn’t go the same with Hotch. Whether that was for the worse or the better, nobody knew. The two of you bickered constantly. He dropped his cold exterior when you were around and he became just a bit more human. The team didn’t know which they liked better, pre-you Hotch or the Hotch he became when you were around. You fought like siblings most of the time. The team used to tease that it was like the two of you were an old married couple, each other’s work spouse’s, but not anymore out of respect for Haley. Everyone noticed the way he’d smirk just slightly after a squabble between you two, before dropping back into unit chief mode.

But ever since that fateful day a few months back.... even you hadn’t been able to get Hotch to smile. He was working himself into the floor most days and was here earlier than he was before. Nobody dared mentioned his change in attitude, and nobody especially mentioned how the rest of the team all knew you had it in you to put the broken pieces of a man back together to get something at least close to the old Hotch back.

You shook your head of all these thoughts, you bring your knuckles to the smooth exterior of the door, and knocked. You stood for a moment, waiting for his signal to come in, but it never came. Your eyebrows creased on your forehead, your worry lines coming through. You knock again, and once again, no answer. You sigh, and take a step to the side, peaking through his office window. You weren’t surprised to find the man slumped over his work, his eyebrows knitted closed together on his face as he quickly fills out form after form on his desk.

“Fuck it,” You mumble to yourself. God, I really need sleep I’m talking to myself now. You crack the door open enough to slip your head in, you clear your throat, hoping to catch the attention of your superior. Luckily, for you, he looked up at the sudden noise that broke the silence of his office.

“Y/l/n, what are you still doing here? I thought I told everyone to take the day.” He looked up at you for what seemed like a millisecond before his eyes drifted back down to his work. You took this as a your queue to take a small step into the room.

“You did sir, but you said everyone, yet you’re still here.” You kept your tone more formal, you haven’t been your usual self since..

He sighed. “Y/l/n, I really don’t have time for your games right now. Now go home and get some rest, that’s an order.” This time he looked up at you, meeting your eye.

“With all due respect sir, I can’t do that until you agree to leave too.” His eyes hardened as you didn’t take his order, you did your best to not let your eye contact waiver. You prepared yourself for this battle with him before coming in, you weren’t going down with a fight. He dropped his pen and straightened up now. “Y/n, I won’t ask again.”

“Then I won’t be refusing again.” Your crossed your arms over your chest, a determined look taking residence on your face. “Y/n, I don’t have time for this.”

“Then I think it’s time we both head out then. Come on you’ve got Jack waiting up on you and here you are-“ Your pestering sentence was interrupted but a much sharper, harsher one. “Don’t you tell me how and when to parent my son y/l/n.”

“Hotch, god no, I didn’t mean to sir. I’m sorry.” You turned to leave, feeling that you’ve overstayed your welcome and that you wouldn’t be getting through to him this time. “I’ll see you Monday, sir.” You were halfway out the door when his voice stopped you, this time much softer.

“Y/n wait.” His voice was apologetic as he leaned back in his chair, fully looking at you. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. These last few months have just been..” He ran a hand over his face, not being able to finish the sentence.

“Oh, Aaron, believe me, I know. I don’t need you to spell it out for me.” You stared at him, locking eyes and an intense feeling filled the air. After what seemed like hours, you cleared your throat. “I didn’t mean to overstep just then, I just want you to take care of yourself too, sir.”

You watched as he seems to crumble under your words. His tough, put-together facade falling. “You’re here for all of us when we need to take a moment to get ourselves together You allow us to confide in you and let us know you’ll stay strong for us when we can’t. You’re allowed to do that same, Aaron.” His eyes were now trained on the desk, his jaw tight as he clenched his teeth. You knew if he let himself relax he might break, and Aaron Hotchner did not let others see him with his walls down.

“Y/n..” If you were surprised by his use of your first name, you didn’t show it. “I don’t know how to be a good father and a good unit chief. I..” His took a shuddering breath. “I’m afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” You asked as softly as you could.

“Afraid of failing both Jack and the team.” His voice broke at his son’s name. He seemed to be one word away from allowing his mind to take him.

You’d never heard our chief, my boss, sound so broken and lost. The man whose face is made of stone, unchanging and firm, the man who could weather any storm, the man who beat a man into the floorboards our of anger, grief, and to protect his son, looked like a child, his wall down and his vulnerability shining through. He was like a great oak tree, roots running deep, roots that would keep him grounded no matter what might come at him, but right now he looked as if he might allow the current storm take him. You couldn’t allow that.

“Let’s go home Aaron.” You said ever so softly, taking the smallest of steps towards his desk, as if you were approaching a frightened animal. His eyes snapped to yours at the mention of home, don’t read into that, and he took one last, defeated, sigh.

He just sat there, a little blankly, as you cleaned up his desk. After papers into his briefcase, grabbing old coffee cups to be dropped off in the kitchenette, and turning off his lamp, you turned to him expectantly. He was so lost in thought he wasn’t pulled out of his head until you had his chaired turned towards you and your hand was holding his, pulling gently. You gave him a gentle smile, one that just barely pulled at the corners of your mouth, and squeezed his hand. I’m here.

He allowed you to take him to your car and to drive him to his house where Jess was with a young Jack. You walked him to the door and before knocking you turned towards him. He stared ahead, his eyes fogged over by the heavy thoughts in his head.

“Aaron, go he a dad for the weekend, okay? We’ll manage without you if we get a case.” Your words startled him out of his thoughts, and the ending caused him to have a look you couldn’t decipher on his face, sadness perhaps. “It’s only a few days and Reid can probably give you a statistic on how likely it is we’d actually get called in on our weekend off. Any longer without you and all hell’d break loose.”

Your reassurance made his worry lines lessen slightly before he knocked on the door and was welcomed in by his family. You didn’t miss the way Jess looked from you and Aaron, an unreadable look on her face.

Later that night you stopped by with takeout for the three of them from one of Hotch’s favorite local business, and a batch of your famous chocolate chip cookies. You didn’t leave without giving him another warning to not come in.

*******

You weren’t surprised the next morning to see Hotch coming in, albeit an hour or so later than usual. In lieu, he was surprised to see not only you, but the entire team working at their desks on their Saturday off. He didn’t need to ask why they were there or who was behind it. Instead he just took a moment to stare at the back of your head as you spoke animatedly to Derek and Reid. He got the message loud and clear this time, especially considering you hand wrote “We’re here” largely on a piece of paper and stuck it to his desk.

He smiled to himself. Maybe he wasn’t as alone in this dark world as he thought he was. Maybe he’d found his light.

@winterscaptain

[shhhlikeme]

“Losty Aone” / “Losty Mountain Man🏔” Series: 

Outtake Collection #16:

———————————

A/N: hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii babies!!!!!!!!!! Let’s fucking goooooooooooooo! I’m excited for y’all to read this juicy marathon. As of right now, I am unsure of how many collections it will be but it’s going to be one of the longest marathons ii. Check back every 20 minutes or so if you caught this immediately. Oh and I will be trying again to put my post under a read more but if it fucks up an deletes half the chapter again I am DONE and I TRIED okay??? xo

***ALSO I did not add my taglist to the last marathon so you guys might have missed collections 13-15!!!!***

TABLE OF CONTENTS

———————————

Your Losty Heartbreak and Your Spy Kids Debut 😎🖊📚

Sigh. The curse of being a young adult, I tell ya. 

You are annoyed. 

Yes, two months after the breakup you are still completely heartbroken, even though, yes, it was your genius idea to break up with the love of your life: a man that girls only dream about having as a S/O….

but it was a selfless decision.

Aone Takanobu deserved more, better… than you. That was your rationale.

It’s not fair of you to just accept the perfect man because he was lost enough to lock onto you and not someone on his level. 

While it was a selfless decision , it was still a decision you selfishly regretted because …you were so in love with that man at the time that you did it….

You are….

But you will stifle those emotions so that he can get over you and hopefully see his own worth. 

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t be annoyed. Because you were. And at what, exactly? Well:

After dating and breaking up with him, Aone had females constantly approaching him. A/N: Not constantly but it felt that way for you ofc lol

You guess it’s nice that the females of Date Teko gave him the courtesy of one month to get over you but STILL!

Kusa and Katana said that Takanobu’s admirers shot up because everyone witnessed how he treated you, how amazing he was to you, and they fell for that along with his looks.

Your ex’s new admirers are hoping they can get a man that just as inwardly beautiful as he is outwardly and hopefully he will like them, too

In other words: They want what you had. 

And what did you want? 

Well:

You wanted to rip some hair out. Yours or theirs? You’ll leave that up to subjective interpretation. 

EVERY TIME you walked past your ex—that you still love—’s locker there was some brat or another staring up at him in admiration like he was Mount fucking Everest. 

You wanted to scream. 

but isn’t this what you wanted, Y/N? Your Mountain man to find someone else? Your conscience would ask. 

Shut the hell up, conscience. You’d bark back. 

You heard from Katana who was keeping tags on his every admirer that he denied them all dates (which defeats the purpose of your break-up, but you smiled nonetheless) but that Aone did agree to host a study session with a group of girls that apparently begged/needed his help in all subjects before finals. 

give me a fucking break, you and your conscious agreed.

“Ugh. He’s too kind for his own good. Can’t he see those girls just want an excuse to be near him?!?!” You raged about the study session as you peered closely through the passenger side window to make sure that Kusa got inside her house safely. It was 6pm, and you had just heard the news while on the way home from dinner at your favourite restaurant. Katana drove. From her doorstep, Kusa waved at you before closing her door.  

This Saturday, your best friends forced you on your first outing since the breakup, dressing you and even doing your makeup despite your complaining about leaving the house. You had to admit that the food that you did order at the restaurant was decent enough, but really—you would much prefer to still be in bed, flipping through pictures of Aone and Perdu and having a good cry.

Katana rolled her eyes as she stopped at a red light, responding to your initial question. “Ugh. Yeah, they are smarter than we thought. But you’re okay with this, right? I mean this is what you said you  wanted when you broke up with him. You said you want him to find a new girl,”” Katana fished for your true feelings, sounding a lot like your annoying conscience. 

You sulked, picturing other females near the man you are in love with. It made you sick. But, instead, you said, “Of course I am Okay with it. I want him to be the happiest he can be.”

Katana fixed her eyes on the road and bit her tongue so that she wouldn’t laugh. 

You had no idea why you weren’t being fully honest with your friends, but perhaps it made you believe it more the more you said it aloud. “I know Kusa had that assignment to do tonight… and you have that one with Kenji tomorrow, right? so do you want to come over? My mom got me another tub of cookie dough ice cream, and we can rewatch Bad Girls Club again.” You asked Katana in that voice that meant you didn’t want to be alone tonight.

Katana smirked. It was an evil smirk. “I’ll do you one better.”

“Uhhh… Katana….you missed my turn.” Your eyes widened when the cheer captain passed your street, and then passed her own street a few seconds later. “Katana!”

“Word on the cheer team is that Aone-san’s first study session ends in 20 at the local library. I wanna check it out.”

“What?! No you will not—!” You yelled, but you couldn’t help the surge of excitement that flew through your body thinking about seeing that man again. It was always like this.

“—Oh, lighten up— it’s not like I will be joining the damn study session.”

“You won’t?” You asked, surprised.

“Obviously not! Muri is studying something else there, so I need to give her back her notes anyway. It’s only a plus that I’ll get to see how desperate those girls are being with my besties ex. Incognito, kay? I was going to drop you off first and go, but it looks like you don’t wanna be alone. Right?” 

Your pretty best friend waited a few seconds for a response, and when she didn’t get one, she nodded. “Exactly.” She turned into the school’s practically empty parking lot, finding her favourite spot. “So, you can stay in the car. No prob. And I won’t tell you anything about it.” 

You frowned, watching as Katana reached in the backseat for her purse so that she could take out the notes she had for Muri.

“Okay,” you whispered anxiously.  

“I’ll be like, 10 minutes.” The brunette removed her keys from the ignition and stepped outside of her car.

You stayed where you were as Katana’s figure disappeared into the one of the Date Teko’s many entrances. You began to think about what your friend was going to see in there: Aone leaning over the shoulder of pretty Date Teko girls? Helping them with their homework the way he would help you? These girls smelling his fresh icy mountain scent, and leaning in closer, the way you would to him?

Naturally, you began to panic internally.

You pictured the girls twirling their hair flirtatiously and telling him that they didn’t understand when they did, just to keep him hovering over them longer. The same way you used to. 

😤😤😤

Your foot started tapping on its own inside Katana’s car, thinking about how your lost ex-boyfriend wouldn’t even pick up any of it as flirting, ugh. 

Your imagination created even more concerning visuals: more giggling, more oblivious Aone, more shoulder brushing, more oblivious Aone, and then some more….. yeah. Should it really have come as no surprise that you soon found yourself hidden behind a dusty bookshelf in the anatomy section of your school’s library on a Saturday, squatted down and peeping through the slits between books to catch glimpses of your ex boyfriend hosting a study session?!

You blamed your active imagination. 

Behind the dusty shelves, you whimpered because the obstructed vision due to the books covered the white haired beauty perfectly. You held a disgusting book to the right a bit.

“Oh,” your stomach flipped. “He looks so cute.” You put on a 🥺 face when you noticed how utterly adorable a standing Takanobu looked decked out in forest green sweatpants and a matching hoodie with the hood on, and his white hair barely visible. 

Your stomach flips were quickly bumped away by sheer annoyance as you saw him then do exactly what brought you up here, just as you thought: innocently leaning down to help a blonde third-year girl you knew by the name of Sutairu Elyts with a question she was asking. She was smiling way too much for someone doing boring ass school work on Saturday, you noted. Flipping her hair, giggling, and obnoxiously putting her cleavage in Aone’s line of sight. You picked up the dusty library book that was obstructing your view and stopped yourself from tossing it at Sutairu— instead choosing to toss it to the side without a care in the world, trying to get a closer look at how close the girl was going to get while Aone answered her question. 

You were close to literally poking your head through the bookshelf hole completely, when someone to the left of your hiding spot cleared their throat very loudly. You jumped, bumping your head and hissing in pain. 

You removed your head from the bookshelf and looked up at the cause of your newfound migraine.

There stood Katana, her arms crossed and a knowing smile on her face. “You got here faster than I thought,” She reached down to help you up. “Now, come on. None of this amateur shit. You know my style. When it comes to cute boys: make it obvious, and make it count.”

***

Aone was in the middle of teaching Algebra to a group of students (he doesn’t register the fact that they are all conveniently female and all too well dressed for a study session) who had desperately begged him for his help, to the point where the teacher just asked Aone to do it. 

He didn’t mind, the teacher offered him extra credit and everyone he was teaching was nice, they didn’t mind him being pretty silent, plus Kenji fully supported it. So why not? Aone mainly supported it because it was a great distraction from his broken heart and his plan…. 

Or so he thought it would be—before he spotted you in the library.

His heart skipped a beat because he absolutely was not expecting to see you today. His plan wasnt supposed to be put into action until Monday! Trying not to freak out, Aone watched you enter from a side that wasnt the entry way—which is pretty odd—but he shoved the thought to the side anyway because there you were, looking busy.

“Wow.” Takanobu couldn’t stop himself from mouthing when his eyes found you. He mouthed it to himself, of course, but it caused the observant participants in his study group to whip around to see what he was looking at. 

you were dressed pretty casually, coming from dinner with the girls, but Aone hadn’t seen you dressed in anything other than your school or cheer uniforms since your breakup, so it took him by surprise

Not to mention you looked really, really, really good:

Aone watched you scan the bookshelves with Katana—which, if Takanobu was thinking straight— he would realistically call bs on you ever coming to the library for no reason, ESPECIALLY on a Saturday— but you looked too gorgeous to him to care 

Now that he is working alongside you in a project, he has been able to crawl out of depression a bit, simply because your mere presence made him feel whole again, so he basked in the delight he felt any time he was able to see you.

Aone realized that even though he struck out the first time and failed to make you want to be with him, he had nothing to lose if he tried again. 

The premise of Aone’s plan presides on the idea that you are the only girl he wants. Therefore, he just has to prove that to you. Silently. Strategically. 

So that’s the only reason why Aone was able to to shift his focus right now and look away from you, effectively returning to helping his study group and making them forget you even walked in. 

Aone’s mission is to become the man that you want and need, naturally. He will exude more confidence: which is a testament to the fact that he was here right now: tutoring a bunch of girls who have asked him out and he has rejected before because of you,

He wants word to get back to you that your ex is the type of guy who knows how to be just friends with people who had feelings for him. Just in case you wanted to start there with him.

He wants to be your friend. Aone wants to be anything to you but a stranger. It’s the only way his heart stops aching and if that’s all you can give him is a friendship after this project is over, then that is what he would willingly accept!  

Aone forced himself to look back down, getting up to step around the circular table to help with the other girls’ study guides. 

He was able to keep his cool for the most part, but almost lost it twice... 

Once when you dropped a book and bent down to pick it up, showcasing how amazing your butt looked in those jeans. 

Aone cleared his throat to get his own attention back and turned away quickly when he felt a familiar stir under his sweatpants. He stuffed his hands deep in his sweatpants pockets and directed his energy back to the paper in front of him. He erased an answer for one of his students and plugged in the correct one.

The second time Takanobu almost lost his cool was when he heard you make a cute noise and his eyes flicked back up to you. You were trying to reach a book that was too high for you but probably met the height of his ear, your hand above your head, your bodyweight on your toes which gravitationally rose your top up as well, exposing the naked skin on your lower back. 

Aone’s throat went dry and he bit back a groan because the last time he’d stared at that lower back of yours so intensely: you were in a perfect arch, naked, using his dick to pleasure yourself when he told he was on the phone. 

Cue hands in pockets again.

He recalled how that section of your back had a light layer of sweat on it back then, making it glisten as he bit his lip, trying not to moan to the feeling of your tight and juicy walls running up and down his length. Holy, shit, that feel good. 

Aone began thinking about helping you get that book and then fucking you against that bookshelf you were leaning on: holding you up in his arm, the other hand used to place it behind your head as a cushion so that you did not harm yourself when he sheathed his big dick inside your absolutely perfect box, so hot and so delicious, and soo hard not to cum inside within the first minute…..

👁👅👁 Aone’s eyes glazed over to the point where one of his tutor-ies had to snap their fingers in front of his face. 

Highly embarrassed, Takanobu pulled it together ASAP, muttering a quick and sincere apology and thinking only of his plan. Trusting in his plan, he refused to look up in your general direction again. He didn’t trust himself to. 

***

“He barely looked my way….” You sobbed into your cookie dough ice cream later that night, Katana rubbing your back and removing your hair out the tub. 

“Please, Y/N,” Katana begged, absolutely gutted seeing her best friend like this. “Please be honest with yourself and make sure you truly stand by the decision you made.”

———————————

A New Aone and a Perfect Plan? ✅🤩

Mountain Man put absolutely all of his energy into his plan to get you back. His understanding is that you broke up with him because he wasn’t good enough for you, so that means he would just have to make himself good enough for you. While Kenji was completely against Aone trying to get back the girl who broke his heart, Kenji found himself agreeing with the plan since it meant that his best friend would be speaking, playing volleyball, and overall living life again while it was in action. The plan was to essentially fake it till you make it—show you that Takanobu could be the man you deserved. 

The gist of the plan was for Aone to disallow himself to be zombie-like anymore, because you probably didn’t like that. He started spending more time with his friends again, and he was eating again. He was banking on this plan, and if it didn’t work—sure, he’d be crushed for the rest of his life—but at least he’d have no regrets. It wouldn’t be easy, he’d have to speak back to other females kindly letting them down when all he wanted to do was speak to you. He’d have to ignore you when you walked by which meant going against his every instinct, and he’d have to speak to you confidently in class when you two were working on the project and small talk about your lives, when all he wanted to do was lean in and kiss you until he could taste you even when he pulled away. 

Thoughts of you consumed him, still, but they were now hopeful thoughts. He was not going to let his dream girl walk away that easily. 

A/N: GO BABY GOOOOO

You, on the other hand, took this new and confident Aone as a sign that he was getting over you. He didn’t seem very sad anymore, you didn’t see that same dejected and lost eyes you saw when he pushed his best friend away from you. You saw intensity there, like he was now focused on a new task in his life. It confused you, and it hurt like a bitch, because deep down you knew he’d move on soon and you wouldn’t. 

But this is what you wanted, right? 🙄🙄Repeated your conscience, again. You really wanted to fight her. 

“Y/N, you seem out of it today.” Mountain Man stopped writing the outline of the content analysis in class to stare down at you. You could see the concern in his eyes, but you refused to believe it was anything more than the concern anyone would feel for an ex turned friend, and nothing more. 

Embarrassed, you realized that you must have zoned-out, and now this gorgeous man that you wanted to jump was calling you out on your odd behaviour. “W-was I?’ You shook your head then looked down in your lap. “Sorry.” 

Aone placed his pencil down, heart pounding because he wanted that frown of yours to disappear so badly. “Is it about your University Cheerleading tryouts?” He asked kindly, too kindly—if you had any hope of getting over him in the next 5 years. 

You looked up at him, confused as to why he’d even mention that. 

The white haired beauty blushed. “Kogane—he, uh, well…” Aone took a second to look away and collect his thoughts because your big beautiful eyes were making him lose his train of thought. He reminded himself of his plan and collected himself, returning to your gaze. “Kogane-san mentioned to Kenji and I this morning that Kusa needed someone to film her audition tape, because that is the only way cheerleaders are able to send in your tryouts for schools that are too far away, correct?”

“Oh,” You nodded. “Ya—“

Aone continued without missing a beat. “I know Kogane is helping film Kusa’s, and you mentioned yesterday that Katana is out of town for a camp… so, and feel free to say no: but I’d love to offer you my help, Y/N. With filming and editing.” 

There was a pause in which you just looked at Aone with those big beautiful eyes that he thinks about 24/7. 

Afraid that he might be coming onto way too strong, which goes against his super slow plan, Takanobu adds: “As friends. Offer you my help as friend.” 

Your heart sunk, but he looked so sweet asking, not to mention you really did need to get on that tryout instead of pushing it off until you miss it completely and don’t end up going to University—

If you didn’t get a cheer scholarship you were screwed; Aone knew this. Not to mention you would love to see him more; Aone did not know this.

“I’ve taken photography as my elective for the past three years and do pretty well in that class in terms of grades, so I just thought…” Mountain Man was scared shitless, nervously listing off his accomplishments like this was an interview…. mostly due to the fact that you hadn’t answered him yet. Too fast, she can tell you want her back—now she’ll never give you another chance. Failure. Aone opened his mouth to retract his offer, but you interrupted him before he could get the first word out. 

“Um, yes. Sure. I’d love your help, Aone-san. I promise it won’t take long. Thank you so much.” 

Aone nodded even though he was bursting at the seams inside. Mountain Man couldn’t believe it. After  being broken up with because your feelings weren’t there, you agreed to spend non-school related time with him?! The middle blocker couldn’t help but think that you wouldn’t have said yes, had he still been acting like a zombie. Actually, he wouldn’t even have dared asked, if he was still acting like a zombie. Now he gets to help you and see you more than he has since the breakup, and he considers this like a gift! Yes!

“Great. Just tell me where and when you would like to have your audition, and I will be there.” A very cool reply.

You even rewarded him even more with a smile. “How about next Tuesday? Here on the field since it’s getting warm out again? I need to rehearse a lot and that gives me enough time.”

“Understood.” A cool second later, Takanobu had to excuse himself to the washroom so that he could celebrate in silence. He texted his friends and took a deep breath.

Selfishly, Aone also wanted to help you with this particular audition because he wanted you to go to the same University as he and Kenji. He wanted to help you with your future assignments and he wanted to see you everyday. How great would that be? A little torturous, too. But if you were on a cheer team and happy, then: mostly great. 

Baby steps, Mountain Man sighed contentedly. He would get you back in baby steps, and this was the first one. 

He just had to keep following the plan.

———————————

Taglist: @galagcica @chaichai-the-weeb @nairobiisqueen @bisasterrr @juminly @simply-not-the-same @marvelousbakugou @qyuanon 💛

Outtake #17: CLICK HERE!

[jaskierswolf]

You Set My Heart Ablaze (18/25)

Previous __________

It was ten o clock on a Monday morning and Jaskier was still in bed.

He was in heaven.

He woke up naturally and peered at his phone, the numbers were blurry without his glasses but he could just about make it out. He smiled and hugged his phone to his chest before turning back over and pulling the covers over his head.

He fucking loved the school holidays.

He didn’t fall back asleep but his bed was just the perfect temperature and he wasn’t ready to get up yet. He could stay in bed all day if he wanted to, and the idea was incredibly tempting. His bliss only lasted another ten minutes before his bladder betrayed him. He sighed and felt around for his glasses before turning on the light. After he’d finished up in the bathroom, shower and all, he decided it was probably time for breakfast. He pulled on a fresh pair of boxers and his dressing gown before shuffling into the kitchen. After a few minutes of deliberation he decided that pancakes were on the menu.

He’d been tempted by waffles but his waffle iron tucked away in the back of a cupboard and he honestly couldn’t be bothered to find it. So pancakes it was. He knew the recipe off by heart so it didn’t take long to whip up some batter. He peered at the mixture once it was finished and then dived straight back into his cupboards. It was the holidays and he wanted chocolate chips. He’d earned chocolate chips, it had been a hell of a term.

His relationship with Geralt had been all over the place and he felt liked he’d just gotten off one of those crazy rollercoasters. Between the fire and their sort of break up and then that rather splendid hour wrapped up in Geralt’s arms.

Fuck.

It had been better than Jaskier had ever imagined. Unfortunately, in his post-sex daze he’d forgotten about the broken glass on the floor and Geralt had ended up having to pull shards of glass from his feet. The care with which the fireman had bandaged his feet had astounded him. For such a large man, Geralt was capable of being extremely gentle. Jaskier had been incredibly grateful that they’d already yelled out confessions of love, because the way Geralt had looked at him whilst he cleaned and bandaged the wounds and been all too much for his poor heart.

They’d promised to avoid each other until summer now which was just heartbreaking but Jaskier had said himself, he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t love Geralt. He’d always worn his heart on his sleeve and he knew that anyone would take one look at them together and just know the truth of his feelings.

It hurt, but it was necessary. They knew it was necessary.

“Bollocks!” He yelled into the empty apartment.

It wasn’t fair.

Why did he never have any luck in long term relationships?

The smell of burning pancakes hit his nose. “Oh shit! Cock!” He pulled the pan off the hob but it was too late. The first pancake was burnt.

“Fuck’s sake.” He growled.

He snapped a photo of the burnt breakfast and sent it to Geralt

J —This is your fault xxx

He didn’t expected the fireman to reply straight away, if at all, after all they’d promised to stop talking to each other until summer.

And yet, before he’d even picked up the next spoonful of batter, his phone had buzzed.

G — How is that my fault?

Jaskier beamed.

J — I was too busy thinking about the other night. xxx

He sighed happily as he watched the batter in the pan carefully. It was slowly starting to bubble and Jaskier was getting ready with his spatula to flip the pancake when his phone buzzed again. He groaned and stared intently at the pan. He could not answer it. He could not look at it. He was cooking!

His phone buzzed again.

“Oh cock!” He quickly flipped the pancake and scrambled for his phone.

G — Sounds like a you problem.

— Sorry I didn’t put any kisses.

Jaskier laughed and began to type.

J — Save them for summer, dear heart. I’ll make an IOU. xxx

Geralt didn’t reply immediately this time which was excellent news for his pancakes. He finished up the rest of the pile and then pulled out a tub of cookies and cream ice-cream from his freezer. Once he was done, he held the plate up and took a selfie with his creation to send to Geralt.

J — I finished it! No thanks to you, darling! xxx

Jaskier ate his breakfast happily. He fucking loved the school holidays. After breakfast he could go back to bed and watch television or read a book or just have a nap! He ran a hand through his damp hair whilst he considered his options. Maybe he could ring Pris and see if they could have a composing session. They hadn’t been in the studio in a while and he was itching to get something recorded. He’d been composing like crazy over the last week. Apparently getting fucked by the love of your life really did wonders for your motivation.

The sugar was already beginning to kick in by the time he’d finished his breakfast and he was singing happily around the last few mouthfuls of pancake. He could barely contain the energy rush as his leg began to bounce under the table. He was halfway through the washing up, singing and dancing as he went, when his phone buzzed again.

He shook the bubbles from his hands and patted them dry on his dressing gown.

G — You wear glasses?

Jaskier was about to respond but Geralt was still typing and beat him to it.

— They suit you.

— A lot.

Jaskier grinned at Geralt’s flurry of messages, unbelievably he was still typing. He considered replying to put Geralt out of his misery but honestly he was enjoying this too much.

— Are you cooking naked?

— Fuck. Hang on.

Jaskier’s phone began to ring in his hands and he laughed as he answered. “Are you ok, darling?”

Geralt growled on the other end of the line.

“If I’d known you would react like this to my glasses I would have worn them months ago!” He giggled.

“It’s not just the glasses.” Geralt grumbled.

“Oh?”

“The dressing gown, your hair, your stupid face.” Geralt continued.

“My dressing gown?” Jaskier asked incredulously. His dressing gown was the fluffy cosy sort and probably one of the least sexy things in his wardrobe. “Oh and hang on! My stupid face?! I thought you liked my face!” He absolutely did not shriek.

“You look cute.” Geralt admitted quietly. “Like you’ve just woken up, all disheveled and soft.”

“I have just woken up.” Jaskier replied slowly not really understanding Geralt’s point.

He heard a long drawn out sigh on the other end of the line. “I wish I was there with you, waking up, making pancakes.”

“Are the pancakes before or after morning sex?” Jaskier teased as he hopped up to sit on the kitchen counter.

Geralt grumbled something unintelligible on the other end of the phone.

“What was that, dear heart?” Jaskier laughed, oh he was having far too much fun with this.

“I’m at work.” Geralt muttered. “Stop laughing at me!”

“Oh but darling, you make it too easy.” Jaskier giggled.

Geralt was silent whilst Jaskier got over his laughing fit.

“After.” He spoke softly, in a low husky voice that made Jaskier feel things.

“W-what?” He stammered.

“The pancakes, would be after.” Geralt practically purred in his ear and Jaskier almost fell of the kitchen counter.

“Geralt!” Jaskier whined. “I thought you were at work.”

Geralt laughed. “You started it.”

“Yes, true but we can’t finish it!” He pouted.

“Ciri is away with Yen this week, girl’s trip.” Geralt answered casually.

Too casually.

Jaskier grinned. “Dinner at your place then?”

“If you’d like.”

“Oh dearest, I would love nothing more.” Jaskier sighed wistfully. “But weren’t we supposed to be waiting until summer?”

“Fuck summer.” Geralt said succinctly.

“Rather you fuck me.” Jaskier teased. “Or I could fuck you. I am not opposed to that.”

Geralt ignored him, which was just rude! But he supposed Geralt couldn’t exactly answer that one appropriately whilst at work. Jaskier did find the idea of the fireman getting all flustered at work rather titillating, as long as Geralt never decided to turn the tables on him. He worked with children after all.

“No one needs to know. There’s no one at my house, no one at yours either. It’s a week of freedom.” Geralt’s voice was quieter now, and Jaskier heard faint voices in the background.

“Forbidden love. How exciting!” He sang. “Let me know when you’re off work, and text me your address. I’ll be there.”

“Good.”

Jaskier took a deep breath. “I really do love you, you know. I know it seems too soon and we have barely even started this relationship but I do, I love you.”

Geralt laughed quietly. “I know. You too. More than I should.” Geralt sighed. “I have to go.”

“I know.” Jaskier moaned. “But I’ll see you later, my dear.”

“Yeah. See you.”

The line went dead.

Jaskier let out a shaky breath. A whole week where he could see Geralt whenever they pleased, well when Geralt wasn’t at work at any rate. The added forbidden element of the whole affair only made it more exciting, some dark secret that only the two of them could know. He wondered when it had all gotten so out of control. When had he gone from harmlessly admiring Geralt’s god-like physique to orchestrating forbidden dates and stolen kisses whilst no one else was paying attention.

He remembered feeling floored at just the prospect of Geralt’s attention being on him.

But now that he had it.

To the gods he never wanted it to end.

_____________________________

Jaskier Pankratz was inside Geralt Rivia’s house.

And the world was not on fire. There were no demons reaching up from hell ready to drag him below to their fiery depths. Stregobor wasn’t lurking around the corner like a ghost ready to hang him from the battlements for his behaviour. Philippa Eilhart wasn’t looming over him with a clipboard in her hand ready to toss him aside like she had with the others.

He peered around the living room. There were framed pictures of Ciri and Roach pinned to the wall, next to ones of a couple holding a tiny baby. Ciri’s parent’s he supposed. He’d never seen a picture of them before. There were a few photos of Geralt’s colleagues at the pub. His heart ached when he saw the photos of Geralt and Yennefer.

Fuck they were a beautiful couple.

Yennefer’s stunning violet eyes against the natural tan of her skin and raven black hair was the opposite of Geralt and his silver hair, pale skin and warm amber eyes. Together they looked like something out of a fairy tale.

He stared for too long.

Geralt cleared his throat behind him.

Jaskier turned around with a sheepish smile and pushed his glasses back up his nose. “Sorry. I’m being nosey.”

Geralt just tilted his head and smiled fondly at his antics before pulling him into a warm embrace.

Jaskier melted into Geralt’s arms. It had been just over a week since he’d seen the fireman and he had been yearning for his touch ever since.

Geralt buried his face in Jaskier’s hair and hummed contently. “You smell good.” He murmured.

Jaskier just pressed his face into the crook of Geralt’s neck, the frames of his glasses squashed against his nose and cheeks uncomfortably but he didn’t care, not in that moment. He had no intention of leaving any time soon. For once he felt calm, the restlessness that followed him day in day out ebbed away as Geralt held him close.

“You brought your guitar?” Geralt eventually broke the silence that had fallen between them.

Jaskier finally pulled back from Geralt’s chest but kept his hands on the fireman’s arms. “Lute, actually. I keep my guitar in a cupboard at school now. I can’t afford to replace it again for a while.”

Geralt guided Jaskier to the sofa gently and tugged at the strap of Jaskier’s lute case. “Play for me?”

“What?” He asked in disbelief.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d decided to bring his instrument along. He just knew whenever he was in the vicinity of the firefighter he was almost overwhelmed with the urge to play, to compose, to sing ballads about his eyes… amongst other things. Jaskier now had a good few rhyming couplets about the delicious curve of Geralt’s butt. That being said, he hadn’t actually expected to play, especially not at Geralt’s request.

Geralt cupped his cheek and gave him a small half smile. “I’ve never heard you play, not in person, not properly.”

Jaskier’s breath caught in his chest and gazed into Geralt’s beautiful golden eyes in awe.

How was this man even real?

Maybe this was all a dream?

Surely he didn’t deserve all of this.

He licked his lips and leaned into Geralt’s touch. “What shall I play?”

Geralt captured Jaskier’s lips in a chaste kiss. Jaskier hummed happily into the kiss that ended far too quickly. “You’re the musician. Play something that makes you happy.”

“Three things that make you happy?” Jaskier teased.

Geralt didn’t hesitate like he had all those months ago.

“You.”

“Geralt!” He whined and buried his face in the man’s chest. “You cannot say things like that!”

“Too bad.” He smirked.

“No regrets?” Jaskier asked timidly.

“None. You?” Geralt frowned.

Jaskier laughed. “My only regret is that we can’t enjoy this until the end of term.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier gently bumped his forehead against Geralt’s “Three things, Geralt. Even my buttercups can count to three.”

“You, your smile, your eyes.” Geralt listed off, his eyes boring down into Jaskier’s. There was barely any space between them like this and every word, every breath tickled against Jaskier’s lips.

“I’m on your list three times?” He laughed breathlessly.

“Problem?” Geralt murmured.

Jaskier closed the gap between their lips and kissed Geralt, his fingers gripping onto Geralt’s biceps as the man pulled him closer.

When they pulled away they were both breathless. “No.” Jaskier whispered. “No problem.”

“Good.” Geralt laughed and stepped away, putting a wider gap between them. Jaskier pouted but let Geralt go. He didn’t want to appear too needy. “Now play for me?”

So he did. Jaskier pulled out his lute and quickly made sure his precious instrument was in tune before starting to strum on the strings. He played a new composition, it wasn’t quite finished yet but with Geralt looking at him as if he’d hung the stars and moon he couldn’t help but play the melody that escaped him whenever he thought of his silver-haired fireman.

There were no words.

Not yet.

But right now it didn’t need any. The soft sound of lute strings filled the living room. Jaskier closed his eyes as he played. He couldn’t handle the overwhelming love in his heart whenever he caught Geralt’s gaze. It was too much. Geralt was too much.

So he let himself get lost in the music. He let his fingers dance on the strings of his lute, let every note tell a story of love, of destiny, of heartbreak. He hadn’t even noticed he was crying until Geralt brushed a finger across his cheek to wipe away the tears. His eyes fluttered open and Geralt’s eyes were the only thing he could see. The rest of the world just faded away. It was Geralt and only Geralt.

Nothing else mattered in that moment.

Gods he was so gone on the man.

And by some miracle of fate, Geralt seemed to feel the same way.

Geralt gently pulled the lute from his trembling fingers and placed it carefully on the floor beside them. Jaskier half laughed and half sobbed as he lunged forward to kiss Geralt, like a starved man at a banquet.

He needed.

Gods he needed.

Geralt returned the kiss eagerly and it wasn’t long before they fell into bed together, the need to be close, to feel each other becoming too much for them. The knowledge that after this week they would be parted for months again, that the world was against them right now and they had to make use of every second that they had together until they were torn apart.

_____________________________

It was half past six on a Tuesday morning and Jaskier was woken up by the alarm clock.

He groaned and buried his face in Geralt’s hair.

In Geralt’s hair?

He blinked as the man in question thumped the clock on the bedside table with a grunt before rolling onto his back and pulling Jaskier to his chest. His very naked chest. Jaskier held his breath as he let his fingers trail across the expanse of exposed marred skin. Geralt hadn’t taken his shirt off the first time they’d hooked up, after Geralt had spontaneously turned up at his flat, and last night Jaskier had found out why.

Across Geralt’s chest was a large puckered scar, the kind left behind by some serious burns. Jaskier didn’t question it and Geralt didn’t offer any explanation, they’d been too busy with other more important matters at the time but now, in the quiet of the morning, Jaskier had time to wonder.

Geralt’s hand clasped over his. “Morning.” He grumbled, his eyes were still shut but there was a faint smile on his lips.

“Hey.” Jaskier replied softly.

“I have work.” Geralt said bluntly, finally his eyes fluttered open and he looked down at Jaskier sadly.

“Yeah.” Jaskier pouted. “I gathered.”

“Could call in sick?” Geralt suggested with a twinkle in his eyes.

“We could make pancakes.” Jaskier added his voice full of longing.

Geralt hummed and rolled them over so Jaskier was on his back, looking up at the beautiful creature that he was allowed to love. Geralt brushed Jaskier’s fringe from out of his eyes and then leant down to place a lazy kiss on his lips. Jaskier let his hands thread through Geralt’s loose hair. It was knotted from where Geralt had slept on it and from Jaskier’s wandering hands the night before but Geralt didn’t complain when Jaskier’s fingers caught in the knots, he just moaned into the kiss and caught Jaskier’s bottom lip between his teeth.

The alarm clock started to beep again and Geralt groaned, rolling off of Jaskier so he could turn it off.

He sat on the side of the bed with a heavy sigh. Jaskier crawled across to sit behind him. He pressed a kiss to Geralt’s shoulder. He let his hand trail down Geralt’s arm and then rest his chin on his shoulder. “You have to go.” He stated with a sigh.

“Yeah.” Geralt grunted.

“That’s ok. Just let me get my stuff together, I should get home too. I have to sort out my lesson plans.” Jaskier couldn’t hide the disappointment in his voice.

Fuck.

When had leaving Geralt become so difficult?

Were they just in their honeymoon period?

That must be it. He remembered his relationships from college and university burning this brightly at the beginning too. The need to be in each others space constantly, every second apart like pure torture. He always hoped it would never end, but it always did. The initial spark would fade and his partners would lose interest in him. That’s all he was good for in the end, a good fuck.

Still, he was an optimist. Maybe this time would be different? He prayed to all the gods that this time would be different.

It took them a while to get dressed. Partly because every time they made eye contact they were drawn together, like there was some kind of bond between them, some kind of spell. It was as though now that they had tasted each other, now they had been allowed to touch, caress and love, it was impossible to do anything else. Eventually they were sat opposite each other at the kitchen table. Two large mugs of coffee, one black and one doused in sugar and cinnamon, were place between them. Geralt was munching on some toast but Jaskier found it difficult to eat in the mornings so he settled for watching Geralt eat.

“What are we going to tell Ciri?” He asked quietly.

Geralt froze and scowled at him. “Nothing.”

Jaskier sighed. He had expected that answer. He didn’t know why he’d gotten his hopes up for anything else. It had been said time and time again, they couldn’t date. They couldn’t love each other. They were friends.

Friends that were in love.

Or was it only lust and infatuation?

No. For Jaskier, at least, it was love. He knew love. He knew the way it made him feel. He knew the longing in his heart, the way he trembled under Geralt’s touch, the way Geralt’s very existence made him want to sing.

He had to trust that Geralt loved him too. That against all the odds they had come together.

“Nothing, yet.” Geralt amended softly, taking Jaskier’s hand in his.

Jaskier smiled sadly. “Of course, and in the summer?”

Geralt shrugged.

“Geralt.” Jaskier moaned. “Please.”

“I don’t know, Jask.” Geralt admitted.

“Are you still angry at me?” He asked quietly.

They still hadn’t really talked about the weeks when Jaskier had effectively ghosted Geralt. It was painful for both of them, for whilst Jaskier had had the right intentions, the sudden cut off of their growing and intimate friendship had acted like a knife in Geralt’s back. He was usually slow to trust, unlike Jaskier, and Jaskier’s quick and thoughtless actions had burnt away that trust.

Geralt frowned as he considered the question, a storm brewing in his gorgeous eyes. Jaskier turned his wrist and gripped Geralt’s hand so he couldn’t pull away.

“I’m not angry.” Geralt sighed. “You did it for Ciri.”

Jaskier bit his tongue so he wouldn’t interrupt Geralt.

“I’m cross at myself.” The fireman continued. “I didn’t have your strength to stay away, and now I’ve put everything at risk.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier breathed “No. You haven’t.”

“I have!” Geralt snapped. “You could lose your job, Ciri could lose her teacher, I could lose you.”

“We can be careful.” Jaskier insisted but Geralt just scoffed. “We can!”

“Is this being careful, Jask?” Geralt growled.

“Well, no. Not exactly.” Jaskier admitted. “But it’s one week of lover’s bliss whilst no one else can spy on us.”

“And then after that?” Geralt grumbled “When I see you at school? The next parent’s evening?”

“Then we will have to act.” Jaskier said stubbornly. “Staying away from you was too hard, Geralt, dear heart, please.”

“Hmm.” Geralt’s jaw was clenched and Jaskier could see the tension he was holding in his shoulders.

“I just think we should have a plan for summer. If you still want me around by then.” Jaskier said, his fingers tapping anxiously on the table.

“I will.” Geralt answered firmly.

“You can’t know that.”

“I do.” Geralt insisted.

Jaskier narrowed is eyes at Geralt and then swiped up his mug of coffee. It was too early for this. He licked his lips, the taste of coffee and cinnamon clung to them.

“Yeah well.” He hummed, not quite believing Geralt, not believing that he could be enough to hold his attention for that long.

“We’ll tell her we’re friends. Go from there.” Geralt suggested.

Jaskier glanced up at his lover through his eyelashes, not quite brave enough to full on look him in the eyes. Geralt’s gaze was unwavering as always. Melitele, the intensity of it would be the death of him one of these days.

Jaskier leaned across the table and pulled Geralt into a searing kiss that made his whole world spin.

When he pulled away he let his forehead rest against Geralt’s. “Ok, dear heart. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

“So you’ll come over tonight?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier nodded. “Or you can visit my flat. I could teach you how to play piano!”

“Hmm.” Geralt answered dryly but there was a small smile gracing his lips.

“Although,” Jaskier sang mirthfully. “I think sleeping with one of my students would be a step too far even for me.”

“Jaskier.” Geralt snapped and gently cuffed him over the back of the head.

“What?!” He laughed.

“Get out of my house, Jaskier. I have to go to work.” Geralt grumbled with an exasperated smile.

“Alright! Alright!” Jaskier downed the rest of his coffee and picked up his lute case. “I’m going, my dear, but I shall see you tonight.”

He placed a kiss on the top of Geralt’s head and ran for the door. If he was lucky there would be a bus back to his part of town soon.

He hummed happily as he skipped from the house towards the bus stop. It was going to be a brilliant week!

___________

Next

[aliendes]

One More Day

shy!yoongi, brother!namjoon, depressed!reader

Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING! heavy angst, mentions of death/suicide, dark themes, mentions of alcohol and drug use, Joon is a straight up asshole I am so sorry (it gets better in the end), reader smokes cigarettes (if that bothers you?), depression/anxiety. This story is in no way meant to romanticize suicide, if you or someone you know is suffering, please call or text 1-800-273-8255.

Word count:  27837 (yikes I am actually sorry) Genre: Angst, fluff NSFW because of suicide mentions?

A/N: Did I write a Christmas story in the middle of July? Yes. Am I sorry? Also, yes. This is entirely unedited and was only meant to be like a 1k drabble. As you can see, it got away from me a little (a lot). I will eventually go back and edit, but I cannot be bothered right now. I’m so sorry for my shitty character development here, I was just trying to get this out of my brain and it just snowballed (hehe) into this monster.  If anyone is interested, I wouldn’t mind doing drabbles about this couple in the future! Send me an ask! This is a work of fiction. Any character names/likenesses are coincidence are are not meant to represent actual people.  **PLEASE READ!: Hi all! This is my first fic that I am posting to this blog. THANK YOU for reading this! If you like this story, I would REALLY appreciate it if you could reblog/comment on the fic. Also! Follow me if you’re interested in my writing. I am currently writing a multi chaptered dystopian AU and will be doing polls on my blog where readers can vote on a couple of aspects of the story. I hope you stick around!

Listened to: Be Kind (Marshmello & Halsey) & Waste It On Me (Steve Aoki & BTS) while writing this. 

You stood on the deck of your parents cabin, staring out at the frozen over lake, shrouded in darkness. You couldn’t remember what time it was, or really even what day it was, just that you needed to get away for awhile. Your breath was turning into white clouds around your face, and then drifting up into the atmosphere. It was calming in a way. Freezing, but calming. 

It was the middle of December, nearly Christmas, what used to be your favorite time of year. You and your mom, dad, and older brother Namjoon would come up to this cabin and spend two weeks at the end of every year. Your dad and brother would always find the tallest tree for the living room of the cabin, with it’s high vaulted ceilings. You and your mom would spend hours decorating the tree, always turning out like a Better Homes & Garden magazine cover. Your mom loved to decorate, and she was damn good at it. You and Namjoon would bake cookies together, despite your mom’s protests over Namjoon being in the kitchen. He was always a disaster waiting to happen. You can still taste the gingerbread like it was yesterday. You smiled slightly, remembering what Christmas used to be like. Now, Christmas was a shitty reminder of what used to be.

It’s been 7 years since the last time you were all together at this cabin. Nearly 6 years since your parents death, and 3 years since you last saw or spoke to your brother. You knew he was doing well, living it up in the big city of Seoul. He was a music producer, and you would hear about him and his accomplishments through friends of friends. You were proud of him. Not that he would ever believe that, and it’s not like you would ever have the chance to tell him.

For the last few years, you had been coming up to the cabin alone. You always took two weeks off work and spent that time trying to keep your parents spirits alive in the form of Christmas cookies and movies. It was your own way of coping with their absence. Namjoon found his ways of coping by blocking the memories out, you found yours in a glass of wine and a couple cigarettes out on this deck. Speaking of which, you should probably light one up now, you’ve been standing here for a while.

Just as you were reaching in your pocket for your lighter, you heard a snapping sound from the left of the desk, startling you in your place, cigarette still hanging from your chapped lips. You turned your head towards the noise, almost giving yourself whiplash. No one should be out here at this time, you thought to yourself. You pocketed your lighter and took the cigarette between your fingers, slowly walking towards the edge of the deck. Sue you, you had a curious mind. Namjoon always used to tell you it would get you killed one day. Not like you cared much anymore. 

“Holy shit!” you gasped, nearly throwing your cigarette, when you saw a figure walk out from between the trees lining your property and the one next to it. It was a man you didn’t recognize. You squint your eyes slightly to try and see better in the dark. He stepped closer to your with both hands raised in front of him as a way to placate you.

“Sorry! I’m sorry! I -” he started, but trailed off almost like he forgot what he was going to say. You raised a brow at him, still unsure of the stranger. “I’m Min Yoongi, I live next door. I promise I’m not a creep or anything, I just noticed you standing out here for a while and wanted to make sure you weren’t locked out or something, I - I, yeah that sounded creepy. I’m sorry.” He rushed out the last words, looking almost sheepish. 

Cute.

You stood there for a second too long, and Yoongi, as you now knew him, looked almost like he was about to bolt back in the direction he came. “I - I’m sorry, I’ll g-”

“No, it’s ok.” You let out a deep sigh and chuckled darkly, no humor to be found. “You just startled me, is all.” You said with what you hoped was a small smile. It wasn’t, Yoongi noted, but he didn’t care, just glad you were responding at all.

Another beat passes, “... so are you alright - did you need help?” He drawled, unsure of where the conversation was headed. 

“No, no. This is my par- mine- my house. Well, not my permanent house, but you probably already knew that.” You stuttered. He must’ve realized the house next door to him was vacant 11 months out of the year, right?

 “Ah yeah, I kind of figured that out.” he took a hesitant step forward. When he saw you weren’t running for the hills, he slowly made his way into the illumination provided by the floodlights on the back porch. You took in his features now that you could see them better. He had bleach blonde hair that looked a little fried, but that suited him nicely, small, feline like brown eyes, and he currently wore a gummy smile that was quite endearing. Had you not been in a spiraling depression, you may have thought he was pretty handsome. He ran his hand through his golden locks, “This house is usually empty, I only notice it occupied around this time of year. I’m assuming it’s your vacation house? You said it was your parents place, right?” He took hesitant steps up to the deck.

So he caught that. Damn. “Was.” You stated simply. “It was my parents place. It’s mine now, I come here alone.” Yoongi knew that. He’s lived next door for 8 years now, on and off. Every Christmas for the last few years, you’d been alone. He wasn’t a creeper, but he did notice you smoking those nasty cigarettes out on this very deck, alone, every year. He remembers you used to come here with someone. A boyfriend maybe? It wasn’t his place to ask. 

He’s at the bottom of the steps that lead up to your deck, looking up at you with an unreadable expression. Pity? No, there’s no way he knows what’s going on in your mind. He hesitates a moment before - “Are you ok?” 

The question catches you off guard. Were you ok? You knew the answer was a big, fat no. But was that something you should share with him? A near stranger? Aside from the obvious questions you had, when was the last time someone asked you that? You couldn’t remember anyone caring enough about you in the last few years to even utter those words to you. The only people you interacted with were your coworkers, who didn’t give a shit about your personal life. All your boss cared about was that you got the job done. You almost wanted to trust this man, share with him how you’re feeling, God knows you need it. You’ve been staring at him for too long, he must think you’re crazy now. “Yeah. Yeah I’m good.” You mutter, looking anywhere but his eyes. 

“Look, it’s not really my place to pry, but you’ve been standing out here in the freezing cold for over an hour.” Had it really been that long? “Do you want to maybe go inside?”

“With you?” you asked, slightly startled at his proposition. 

His eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, and you had a distant thought that he looked oddly adorable like that. “No! No, no. I mean unless you want to come to my house?” He half asked, slightly confused, shaking his head. “I just meant, you aren’t really dressed for the 3 degree weather, don’t you think you should head back inside?” 

Oh. He was just being nice. You weren’t used to this. Leave it to you to jump to weird conclusions. You cocked your head to the side, looking at him with a dumb look. “Yeah…” you trailed off. “I was actually just about to smoke a cigarette, then I’ll head inside.” He gave you another unreadable look, and slowly started to nod.

“O- ok then.” He seemed like he wanted to say more, but stopped himself.

“Do you smoke?”

“Oh no, I don’t. Thank you though.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking anywhere but at you, like he didn’t want to offend you.

“I’m not offended, I know most people think it’s a nasty habit.” You took the lighter back out of your front pocket and put the cigarette to your now very cold, very dry lips. “Want to sit with me?” You asked after you took your first drag of the cigarette.

Yoongi looked back towards his house, and then back at you. “Yeah, let me go grab a coat and I’ll be right back.” he stuttered out. You hadn’t even noticed he was only wearing jeans and a flannel. Poor guy, you’ve been staring stupidly at him for at least 15 minutes, he must be freezing by now. 

“Take your time.” You waved him off as he jogged briskly past the trees and shrubs. You watched him enter his back porch and saw a few lights flicker on, then off again. Taking another drag from your cigarette, you looked back out over the lake. Leaning your elbows on the deck railing, you realized you were, in fact, freezing in nothing but a long sleeve t-shirt and pajama pants. You didn’t intend to be out here this long, only meaning to smoke one cigarette and head back inside, only to lose track of time.

“Want to sit down?” Yoongi’s voice snapped you out of your reverie, slightly startling you. “Sorry - didn’t mean to scare you again” he laughed dryly. He pulled a couple of the deck chairs closer to the railing and sat down. It was then that you noticed he was now wearing a thick winter coat, and in his hands he held another coat, and what looked suspiciously like a blanket. You raised an eyebrow at him, but slowly walked towards the chair, holding your cigarette away from Yoongi, respectful of others' distaste for the smell.

As you sat down in the chair to Yoongi’s right, he dully shook the coat he was holding in your direction with a raised brow. A silent offering. “Thanks.” You muttered lamely, taking the coat from him. It was thick, and smelled citrus-y. Oranges? With maybe a hint of cloves. It smelled manly, wrapping you in his scent when you threw it over your shoulders. 

“No problem” he gruffed out. His deep voice was soothing your cold soul at the moment, a feeling you haven’t had in a long time. “I- I brought a blanket” he hesitates, slowly unfolding the blanket, watching your face to make sure what he was about to do was alright, “is this ok?” he asks as he set the unfolded blanket over yours and his legs. You nod at him, taking another drag from your cigarette. Once the blanket is situated, he grabs one of the legs of your chair and pulls it closer to his, so the blanket drapes all the way over you. You offer him a small smile, and then turn your head to blow the smoke in the other direction. “I don’t mind the smoke, you know. My older brother smokes like a train, I’m used to it.” 

You smirk at him. “Are you implying I smoke like a train?”

“N-no! No, of course not - that’s not, that isn’t” he starts to stutter, shaking his head.

“Relax, Yoongi. I was kidding.” You let out as you exhale your last bit of smoke, putting your cigarette out on the deck floor. You should probably bring an ashtray up here with you next time you visit, which was becoming more and more infrequent as time went on. You used to come up here in the summer with Namjoon, but those days were long gone. 

He ducked his head slightly, the flood light illuminating the side of his face from behind him. He really was beautiful, you noticed. A small, slanted nose, with cute puffy cheeks. They were a little red from being out in the cold, but cute nonetheless.  

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that..” he starts to trail off, realizing he doesn’t know your name.

“YN. Sorry - my name is YN.” 

“YN.” He tries it out on his tongue. He likes the way it sounds. “Pretty.” He noted, face heating after he realized what he said. You smiled at him, the first genuine smile he’s seen all night and he realizes he likes it, and wants to see more of it, preferably in the near future. He gives you a gummy smile in return. “What brings you out here, at -” he quickly pulls his phone from his pocket and glances at the time, “- nearly midnight?”

“Oh you know, just dealing with life.” You glance out into the distance, back at that damned lake. Yoongi must have sensed your distress, because he is quickly switching the subject.

“It’s really pretty out here this time of year.” He states, lamely, looking out at the lake with you. “The lake freezes over in November, makes for some really beautiful scenery.” 

“Yeah… I know. I’ve been coming here with my family since I was 8.” You didn’t take your focus away from the lake as you spoke. 

“What… happened? If you don’t mind me asking.” Yoongi quickly read the expression on your face and added, “You totally don’t have to answer that, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s ok actually. I haven’t really talked about it in a while.” You chanced a glance at Yoongi, his expression serious, focused completely on you. You were taken aback for a brief moment, wondering what was making you trust this man, before you went on, “My parents died almost 6 years ago. We used to come out here as a family every Christmas for the last two weeks of the year. I still make the trip every year to keep their memory, alive? I guess. That sounds kind of stupid saying it out loud.”

“No it doesn’t,” Yoongi stated simply, “That makes perfect sense. You feel closer to them when you’re here, right?” You slowly nodded, still staring into his deep brown orbs. “Look, at the risk of making myself seem like a peeping Tom, I noticed you used to come here with a man, but I haven’t seen him in a while. Is everything ok with…?” His question trailed off. So he has noticed you before.

“Namjoon,” you said, turning your head away, “my brother.” 

Your brother. He didn’t expect that. From what little glimpses he saw of the two of you, you always seemed like a bickering couple. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.” 

“No it’s fine, you’re very observant, you know. How long have you lived there, exactly?” You asked, turning back to look at the sweet man beside you, gesturing towards his home.

“Almost 8 years. Inherited the place from my grandmother. The first few years I was only here on and off, still living mostly in Daegu. Fully moved in about 5 years ago.” His expression changed, looking like he was reminiscing on the past.

“So you must’ve seen me and Namjoon coming together before. He hasn’t come up here with me in three years. We don’t - we’re not really on good terms. He lives a couple hours away.” You left it at that, not really wanting to indulge in the reason why you weren’t on good terms. That was a conversation for another day. Your stomach fluttered at the thought of talking to Yoongi again. You were confused at the feeling for a moment before Yoongi was speaking.

“I get that. Me and my brother barely speak either. I can’t even remember the last time I saw him to be honest.” He gives you a sad smile, which you return. You’re unsure why you feel like you’ve known Yoongi longer than an hour, but he makes you feel warm in the middle of the harsh winter. You noticed his cheeks were becoming increasingly red and cursed yourself for being so inconsiderate.

“Do you, uh, do you want to go inside? I can make hot chocolate, or something…” you trail off dumbly. 

“Uh, y-yeah that sounds nice”, he faltered, grabbing the blanket draped over you, folding it neatly before ascending from his chair. You follow after him, moving towards the back door of your cabin. You didn’t realize just how cold you were until you opened the sliding glass door and a wall of heat hit you in the face. 

“Wow, I must have been out there a while. I’m freezing.” You chirped as you slid the door closed after Yoongi stepped inside the threshold. 

Yoongi pegged you with a questioning look, and at first you thought he must think you’re insane, before he said, “If you want, you can show me where you keep the hot chocolate and you can go take a shower, or something?” he faltered before adding, “I mean, if that’s ok with you, I know you barely know me-”

You cut him off before he could start babbling again, giving him a soft smile. “That would be really nice actually,” you said, leading him to the kitchen. “I’m not sure what all I have stocked up here, but you should find everything you need in the tea cabinet, above the stove,” you pointed to the stove, “and the mugs are in the cabinet next to the fridge. Feel free to make whatever you’d like. I’ll be down the hall, second door on the right if you need me.” You smiled at him again, causing him to internally melt at the sight, “Thank you, Yoongi.” The sincerity in your tone hurt him. He could tell that you haven’t been thankful for anyone or anything in a while and he didn’t like that. 

“Of course,” he croaked, I’d do anything to make you smile, he wanted to add, but didn’t. He just watched you trudge off to what he presumed was the restroom. He mentally slapped himself. Why was he acting like an idiot in front of this girl he hardly knew? He knew it was because he has seen your sad eyes staring out at the lake for the past three days now, and years before that. Watched you stand, emotionless, wondering what was going through your mind. Now that he’s seen what a smile looks like on your face, he never wants it to disappear again. He’s too empathetic, a trait he inherited from his mother, sometimes to a fault. But he didn’t care right now. Right now, he just wanted to make you happy, even if it was just for tonight. 

You let the hot water fall over your face, reveling in the way the steam was making your muscles feel. Even though your body was relaxing, your mind was starting to real. You think it’s December 21st, just a few days before Christmas. You’d arrived at the cabin three days prior, and would remain here for another week and a half. Usually, when you came to the cabin alone, you spent those two weeks wallowing in self pity, drinking yourself to near death. This was the first time you’ve had any interaction at the cabin in three years. Thinking back to three years ago, you recall your lowest moment at the cabin. The reason for the downfall of yours and Namjoon’s relationship.

It was Christmas Eve, and you had just finished off a bottle of your favorite wine. The fireplace was going, and some sappy Lifetime movie was playing in the background. Not that you were paying attention in the least. You and Joon had just fought over staying an extra day. You wanted to stay, spend some time together since you didn’t get to see him often, but he wanted to go back to Seoul to his girlfriend, Yuna. You never really liked her, but that’s beside the point. He was in his room, probably on the phone with her if the soft whispers were anything to go by, while you were on the couch in the living room. You had just poured yourself another glass of wine and were staring out the large bay windows that had a beautiful view of the lake. You used to love that lake when you were a kid. You and Joon would swing on the tire swing attached to the tree that was partially submerged in the lake when your parents would take you up here in the summers. In the winter, you and Joon would walk along the edge of the frozen water, admiring the beauty of it, listening to nature. Namjoon always did love all the little animals he would find down there. But now, as you looked out at the dark abyss of a lake, it only haunted you with memories of your parents.

You had contemplated it before, but was never brave enough to act. At that moment, though, you really didn’t think there was anything left to live for. Everything had fallen apart. Your parents were gone, your brother hated you, and you isolated yourself from all your friends so long ago, you really didn’t have anyone left. All you could think about, as tears streamed down your face, was how Joon wouldn’t care if you were gone. Your parents weren’t there anymore to care. You would be doing him a favor, right? He didn’t want to be around you, so if you weren’t here, he wouldn’t have to worry about your nagging anymore.

Shaking your head, you’re brought back into the present. Were there tears streaming down your face, or was it the water from the shower? The choked up feeling in your throat pointed towards the former. Great. Could Yoongi hear you? You hoped not. God, you hoped not. He seemed like such a sweet guy, kind and soft. You didn’t want to bring him down in your spiral and potentially scare away the only human interaction you’ve had in a while. 

Little did you know, Yoongi did you hear you. He had finished making hot chocolates a few minutes before he heard soft whimpers coming from the hallway. He immediately made his way towards the noise, realising that once he reached the bathroom door, he could hear you quietly sniffling in the shower. His heart sank at the sound. He didn’t knock, knew he shouldn't. But God, did he want to. Wanted to pull you into his arms, tell you that everything was going to be ok, and see that gorgeous smile again. But it wasn’t his place, and he knew that. So he walked back to the kitchen, solemn expression on his face, and waited patiently for you to calm yourself. 

Yoongi was unsure why he felt the need to comfort you. He hardly knew you, apart from what he’s seen of you over the years. Still, those glimpses weren’t really telling of what kind of person you were. You seemed kind, warm-hearted. You let him into your home, or your parent’s home, he guessed, when you saw that he was cold. You trusted him enough to dawdle about in your kitchen while you showered. That had to take some real trust, what if he was some psycho stalker? He wasn’t, of course. But you didn’t know that. 

The trust you put in him told him one of two things - you we’re either a very trusting person, or you had no fear. The latter made him feel sick. He knew you were going through a lot, but it’s been years since your parents death, you should be feeling somewhat better, right? No, he knew that wasn’t true. The pain of losing someone you love never goes away, he knew that better than anyone, and he didn’t even know the circumstances surrounding their death, or the fallout between you and your brother. Either way, when he looked in your eyes, he saw a sad, broken girl. He’s been that sad, broken person before, and he wanted to help you.

So he waited at your kitchen island, rewarming your mug of hot chocolate every five or so minutes, until you finally felt ready to come out of the bathroom. 

As you slowly towel dried your hair, you stared at your reddened eyes in the bathroom mirror. You knew Yoongi was probably waiting in the kitchen for you, with long cold drinks, but you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of this handsome stranger with your tears. You splashed some cool water on your face and applied some moisturizer to attempt to even out the redness of your face.

After you were satisfied with the puffiness, you threw on your pajama shorts and t-shirt you had brought with you from your room, and left your hair wrapped up in a towel. Who were you trying to impress, really? You barely knew Yoongi, despite the fact that you felt safe around him. You knew at the end of these two weeks you would go your separate ways and probably not speak again until next Christmas, if you even made it to next Christmas. Damn, why couldn’t you keep the morbid thoughts away for one night? 

Hesitantly, you made your way out of the bathroom and down the hallway, where you could hear the clinking of glasses coming from the kitchen. Curious, you sped up a little, until you reached the open floor plan kitchen of your cabin, shooting Yoongi a questioning look.

“Oh! Sorry - I just saw that you have some dishes in the sink, I just wanted to help. Sorry.” He looked sheepish, and you thought it was rather cute. 

“Thanks,” you offered shyly, feeling slightly embarrassed he saw your mess, and sat at one of the barstools in front of the kitchen island, “Did you find the drinks ok?” 

“Oh yeah - they cooled down a bit, so I warmed it up in the microwave.”

You smiled at his thoughtfulness, taking the warm mug from him. Yoongi knew that you had been crying, could see the puffiness in your eyes, but seeing you smile, even slightly, made his eyes light up.He watched as you rose from your seat, mug in hand, and made your way around the kitchen island. For a second, he thought you were going to approach him, but you walked right past him towards the fridge. You reached your short arms up and grabbed at a bottle sitting on top of the refrigerator, pulling it down and setting it on the counter. He watched on curiously as you opened the, almost empty, bottle of rum and poured some into your mug. You turned around, raising an eyebrow at his questioning look, “want some?” 

“Oh, uh, no thank you. It’s really late”, he advised hesitantly. He didn’t want to upset you, didn’t want to overstep bounds as you were an adult after all, but he was also questioning your current state of mind.

“I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, if any of this makes you feel uncomfortable, you can leave. I’m trying my best to keep my head above water right now, both figuratively and literally.” You don’t know why you just said that to your neighbor, but you did and there was no taking it back. You removed your gaze from Yoongi’s, slowly walking towards your living room to have a seat on the plush couch. You never got around to redecorating the place after your parents death. It was almost like taking a step back into the past when you came up here. 

Yoongi’s eyes widened a fraction before he schooled his expression, following behind you, almost forgetting his drink but grabbing it at the last second. “YN, do you want to talk about it? I know we just met, but I want you to know I’m here for you. Whatever you need. Someone to listen, make you hot chocolate, whatever you need.” He gave you a sad smile and sat across from you on the loveseat, setting his mug down on the coffee table. 

You took another sip of your spiked hot chocolate, reveling in the burn at the back of your throat, before following Yoongi and setting it on the coffee table. “Why are you so nice to me? You barely know me,” you questioned him, pinning him with a serious look. 

“I’m sorry if I’m overstepping my bounds right now, but I know what it’s like to be depressed,” he looked up from his feet, resting his hands on his knees as he spoke, “I lost my mother when I was 15. I’m not saying by any means that I know what you’re going through, but when I lost my mom I felt like I had no one to talk to. I don’t know you, at least, not yet. But if you give me the chance, I would like to try? We are neighbors after all.” His momentary burst of confidence falters as he plays with his fingers and looks down at the carpet. 

Your gaze softened at the absolute sincerity in his tone. Was this real life? You almost wanted to pinch yourself to make sure you didn’t pass out drunk on the deck and dreamt up some hot stranger to ease your worries. You let out a breathy laugh, absent of any humor. You thought for a second, did you really want to unload this baggage on Yoongi? No, not right now. It’s better to keep things vague, that way there is no one to hurt if you’re gone. “Yoongi,” you started, causing his head to snap up to meet your gaze, teeth worrying his bottom lip, “You seem like a really nice guy,” Yoongi could sense a ‘but’ coming, preparing himself for rejection. It’s not like he isn’t used to it, being the shy guy in a small town he never really had the chance to talk to many people. “But I can’t promise you that I’ll even be around in a week. I don’t want to get attached to someone, it’ll just be harder in the end.”

That was not what Yoongi was expecting. His heart dropped down to his toes. He felt his stomach flip. Did you really just imply what he thinks you did? It didn’t matter if he barely knew you, you needed to know that someone cared for you. But he knew he needed to tread lightly here. He slowly got up from his spot on the loveseat and made his way over to you, crouching down so he could meet your downcast eyes. His hands were clasped together, but the moment you lifted your gaze to meet his, he unclasped both hands and held them out to you, wanting you to make the first move, conscious you might still feel uncomfortable with him. Hesitantly, you reached out one hand, which he grasped in both of his much larger ones. His warmth instantly soothing your cold bones.

“YN,” he whispered, barely audible, but you heard him, “I don’t know what your life is like back, wherever you’re from, but you’re here now. I’m here for you, and I would really, really, like to get to know you better. If you can’t promise me a week, can you at least promise me tomorrow?” He didn’t want to scare you away, dreading what might happen if he does. He saw unshed tears glistening in your doe eyes before continuing, “I’ll come over, every day, and we can spend Christmas together. You don’t have to be alone YN.”

The thought of not having to spend Christmas alone was enticing. The last time you spent Christmas with someone and was coherent enough to remember it, was four years ago, when you and Joon came up here. The last time you were up here, before that dreaded Christmas Eve three years ago. You wanted, really wanted, to take Yoongi up on his offer. But you felt like you owed it to him to explain why you were like this. Why you weren’t able to get close to anyone, why you felt like this was a bad idea. You thought, if you tell him what happened, about your demons, maybe it would scare him away and save him any future pain. With that in mind, you spoke, ““That fucking lake. It’s caused me so much pain, and now it’s like a sick metaphor of my life,” it was barely a whisper that left your lips. Yoongi could tell whatever you were about to say was heavy. He waited patiently, holding your sad gaze, silently letting you know he was listening. “They died in that lake. It was raining, my dad didn’t see the deer in front of them on the bridge leading into town. They had come up here for a weekend getaway without me and my brother, which they rarely even did. We found out two days later when they didn’t show up for work.” 

Yoongi instantly remembered exactly what you were talking about. How could he not have put two and two together? About six years ago, he was commuting back and forth from the cabin to Daegu for work. He was on his way up here for the weekend when the roads were blocked off at the bridge, he saw the overturned car in the embankment of the lake. Everyone in this small town talked about the couple who drowned in the lake for years after the accident. He even heard about how their child had tried to drown themselves in the same lake a few years ago…. Oh no. 

“YN.”

“It’s ok Yoongi. I don’t want sympathies, I don’t want anymore ‘I’m sorry”’s. You offered to listen, so I’m getting it all out.” You looked down, becoming hyper focused on your hand clasped in Yoongi’s. “After they died, me and Namjoon would come up here for Christmas, attempting to feel more like a family. It never did, we would just fight when we were up here, nonsensical arguments that drove a wedge between us. We kept trying though, until three years ago.”He remembers that, too. He would always see you and that guy, Namjoon, arguing on the deck, or you crying out by the tree swing. You stopped, unsure if you should continue. You chanced a glance at Yoongi, his dark eyes watching you with - it wasn’t pity - compassion? His gaze made you want to continue, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth. “I tried to drown myself three Christmas’ ago. In that damn lake.” 

Yoongi’s made an inaudible gasp, and he hoped beyond hope you didn’t notice. He wasn’t even sure why he was shocked, he connected the dots a few moments ago. He knew it was you. “YN. I - I,” he faltered. 

Not quite meeting his gaze yet, you muttered, “It’s fine Yoongi. Now that lake it like this stupid fucking metaphor for my life. I ebb and flow, just like the waters in that lake throughout the year. I have my ups and downs. Then, every Christmas, the lake freezes over. It’s always hard for me to get through this time of year, especially without Joon.” You felt a single tear roll down your already puffy cheeks. You sniffled slightly, rubbing your nose on the sleeve of your shirt with your free arm.

Yoongi stood up from his crouching position slowly, his grip on your hand still tight. He hesitantly took a seat next to you, holding your hand in his lap.  He could tell you were trying to scare him away, make him realise you were too broken to be fixed. He was determined to keep you talking, get all your baggage laid out on the table so he could assure you none of it mattered to him. “YN, what happened with Joon?” He whispered, close to your face. He didn’t want to risk you building that wall back up, even if he didn’t exactly want to hear the answer.

“He found me in the lake. Freezing, nearly dead.” Tears were rolling down your face now, and you felt Yoongi’s soft fingers rubbing soothing circles on your wrist. You looked up, gaze focused on the wall behind Yoongi. “Brought me to the hospital, checked me in, and left. I didn’t hear from him for a few months after that. When I finally did he texted me and told me that he didn’t think he could handle my ‘destructive behavior’, and offered to pay for my treatment”, you murmured that last part, voice faltering as you sucked in a shaky breath. “I haven’t seen him since that night, Yoongi.” At this, you finally looked into Yoongi’s eyes, your own crinkled in pain, tears freely falling down your face, and Yoongi’s heart broke. No. It shattered into a million tiny pieces. He barely knew you, but he wanted to do everything in his power to make you feel loved, wanted to show you that someone cared about you. You weren’t going to scare him away with your demons. 

Yoongi scooted a little closer to you on the couch, releasing your hand in the process, and gathered your shrunken form into his arms and hugged you close. A beat passed before you hugged back, uncertain if you should. But his warmth had you melting into him, you chest heaving with pitiful sobs. The hug was a little awkward, with you both sitting on the couch, so Yoongi brought his leg up and slotted it behind you, moving even closer to you. Yoongi’s ambiguous nature long gone as he rubbed a large hand up and down your back, pushing his face into your hair, shushing you. You sat there, in his embrace, for what felt like hours, but was realistically probably only 5 minutes. When your sobs started to slow down, Yoongi pulled back slightly, arms still wrapped firmly around you, looking you in the eye, “YN-” he started, but you cut him off before he could finish. 

With a small sniffle and watery eyes, you whispered, “I’m broken Yoongi. You shouldn’t be here, you shouldn’t want to be here. I only cause others pain.”

He seemed confused by your statement at first. His dark eyes searching your own for a second before he whispered, “I see you here, year after year. I can tell YN, I can see it. You’re broken by what happened, but you are not a broken person. You’re so beautiful honey, and from what I’ve seen of you tonight, you’re kind and worthy. Worthy of love, worthy of life, and worthy of happiness.” Your eyes started to well up with tears again and Yoongi gave you a sad smile, thumb reaching up and caressing your cheek to wipe them away. “I didn’t come up to your deck tonight because I thought you locked yourself out of your house. I came over because I’ve seen the torment in your eyes, and I’ve been there before. I don’t want you to feel like you have to go through this alone. I wanted to be here for you, regardless of how well I know you. Maybe I can get to know you in the process, b-but I want you to be ok, YN.” He softly whispered the last part softly, dark eyes starting to well with his own unshed tears.

“You barely know me Yoongi. Your words are sweet, but I’m not worthy. I’ve been drowning myself in liquor, killing myself with cigarettes, and pushing everyone in my life away for the last seven years. I’m a shit human.” You look down, hand reaching up to gently grasp Yoongi’s wrist, slowly pulling his hand from your face. The hurt in his eyes was hard to miss. 

“I barely know you, but yet I want to know more. Doesn’t that say something? You think you’re not worthy, but I’m right here, telling you I think you’re interesting, lovable, and funny. I want to get to know you.” He pulled his hand, ever so gently, away from your grasp, placing it on your lower back to pull you against his chest. “You matter YN.”

You let out another quiet sob into Yoongi’s flannel shirt, inhaling his soft citrus-y scent that has been a calming presence to you all night. “Promise me tomorrow, YN. Promise me you’ll stay tomorrow, talk to me, get to know me a little more,” he mumbled into your hair, “all I’m asking for is tomorrow.”

You thought to yourself for a moment. You could do that. You could promise one more day. Even if you had to suffer through it, at least Yoongi would be there with you. Inhaling a shaky breath, you gasped out an, “ok.”

Yoongi smiled to himself, a sad, small smile. He was happy you were going to give yourself a chance, even if it was under the guise of giving him a chance. He was determined to make you see life was worth living.

You woke up with a splitting headache. Was it from the copious amounts of alcohol you consumed yesterday, or from all the crying you did? You didn’t know. All you knew was the sunlight streaming in from your bedroom window was going to be the death of you. You let out a weak groan as you rolled over, pulling the soft duvet cover over your head. You didn’t want to get out of bed, but you knew you needed to get some water, or your headache was only going to get worse.

Throwing the covers off yourself, you slowly sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You grabbed your phone from your bedside table, noting that it was December 22. Three more days until Christmas. As you looked at your phone, you noticed your arms were covered by a thick, wool like fabric. This wasn’t your pajamas, what were you wearing? You stood up and walked over to the floor length mirror on the back of your bedroom door, still littered with stickers from that time you and your friend Mina visited the cabin when you were 14. 

As you gazed at yourself in the mirror, the events of last night came rushing back to you. Yoongi. You were wearing his coat that he so kindly brought over to you last night while you were out on your deck. Yoongi sat with you while you cried into his shirt for an hour after you had spilled your life story to him, letting all your monsters out to play. You could see the remnants of your sobbing on your face, puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. After you calmed down a bit, Yoongi wrapped you in his jacket and carried you to your bed, shaky and cold. He laid you down gently, pulling the covers over your sleepy form and whispered, “Tomorrow. I’ll be back tomorrow, and we’re going to get to know each other better” before he left. Too tired to speak, you rolled over and fell asleep. 

Your face heated with embarrassment. A man you hardly knew took care of you last night, carried you to your bed. This wasn’t like you. He hugged you last night! You haven’t had any human contact in nearly three years. The last person you hugged was your therapist at the rehab facility, and even that was awkward and a little forced. At the thought of him hugging you, you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach, remembering how you melted into his warm chest last night. You didn’t realize just how touch starved you’d become in the last few years, but the evidence was right there. Shaking off your humiliation, you shrugged off Yoongi’s jacket and rummaged through your suitcase for some clothes. Surely, you’d feel better after a shower and some breakfast. Right?

After rinsing the previous night from your skin, you dressed in some sweats and a t-shirt, not really bothering to do your hair. You didn’t plan on leaving the cabin today, at most you would sit out on the deck again. Heading back into your room, you hear a soft knock coming from your living room. At first you thought you were hearing things, until another knock, slightly louder, sounded through the cabin. 

As you made your way down the hallway and into the living room, you saw a smiling Yoongi through the sliding glass door standing on your back deck. His arms were full, with… what did he have? Bags? You rushed forward past the couches and unlocked and slid the door open.

“Good morning - er, I guess afternoon now?” Yoongi stuttered a little awkwardly, albeit friendly. He stumbled through your back door and made his way over to the kitchen island. You watched his back as he set down a couple of bags and a blanket on the marble countertop. You tilted your head at him as he turned around to face you. “I, um, I thought we could spend the day together if - if that’s ok with you?” he lilted his words at the end. 

You remember the promise you made to Yoongi last night as you stared at him, mouth agape. One more day. You promised him today. You were slightly surprised that Yoongi made good on his promise, half expecting him to bolt last night and never speak to you again after everything you unloaded on him, yet here he was, bright eyed and bushy tailed.

“What’s in the bags?” You questioned as you moved towards the kitchen, blinking dumbly at Yoongi. 

“Well, I noticed last night that you didn’t have much food in your fridge, mostly just liquor and soda,” your cheeks heated as he called you on your bad habits, “so I brought over some groceries. I thought we could make lunch and since it’s a little too cold outside, we could set up a picnic in the living room.” he offered, gesturing to the blanket sitting on your countertop. “If that’s ok with you, of course.” He sounded a little abashed, having not gotten your number last night, he wasn’t able to see if you were ok with all of this beforehand. He was taking a leap of faith here, hoping that you would take him up on his offer.

You smiled shyly at him, “that sounds really nice, Yoongi, thank you.” Not having a drop of alcohol in your system was making your normal, shy self emerge from the mask you usually wear, shrouded behind a layer of liquor. 

Yoongi offered you a gummy smile, showing off his perfect teeth. His smile was warm, inviting, much like his scent. You were slowly realizing that you quite enjoyed his company. Maybe a little more than you should have.

You and Yoongi had spent the afternoon cooking and chatting in your kitchen, making a stew from a recipe Yoongi had in one of his grandmother’s old cookbooks. You discovered that he was a natural in the kitchen, moving through the recipes with ease. He told you stories about how he used to come out here to visit his grandma and she would always cook with him in the very cabin he lived in now. He told you how he inherited it from her 8 years ago when she passed away, and how he quit his office job in Daegu to move out here and become a freelance writer. You admired his bravery, being able to leave his life behind and take a risk moving out here. Part of you wished you were able to take that jump, you truly loved this cabin, and most of the memories that came with it. 

Now, you and Yoongi were sitting on his blanket, in front of your fireplace, eating the stew the two of you made together. “So where are you from, YN?” Yoongi asked as he finished off his bowl, setting it down on the hardwood floor. 

“Busan,” you stated simply. “I still live there. I usually only make the trip out here for Christmas now. I used to come up during the summers, too, but haven’t in a while.”

“And what do you do, in Busan?” he asked, stretching his legs out and leaning back on his elbows, full focus on you.

“I work at an animal shelter. Nothing fancy. I tend to prefer the company of animals, rather than humans,” you offered somewhat abashedly. You were telling the truth. You had always wanted to become a veterinarian, ever since you could talk, really. But you just didn’t have the time, or the money to go to school, so you found the next best option.

“I definitely get that,” Yoongi agreed, “I have a calico cat at home. It gets lonely up here sometimes, and he helps keep me sane.” He smiled thinking about the furball he adopted a couple years ago, probably resting peacefully in his favorite sunbathing spot back at home. 

Your eyes lit up at the mention of a cat and Yoongi filed that away for later. “Really? What’s his name?”

Yoongi was more than happy to indulge in your sudden curiosity, happy he found something you’re actually interested in. “Mochi. He’s a male calico, I hear they’re pretty rare. I found him at the local shelter in town a couple years back. He’s a sweet little thing.”

Your conversation continued throughout the afternoon much the same. You told Yoongi about your dreams to become a vet that would probably never come to fruition, and in turn he told you about his previous job in Daegu as a marketing analyst. You shared with each other your big (and small) dreams and aspirations, discussed TV shows you both liked, and talked about different recipes you enjoy. 

You were actually enjoying yourself and spending time with Yoongi, something you really didn’t expect to happen when you were on the drive up here a few days ago. You haven’t really had a friend to talk to for a long time, your only close friend Mina having moved to the United States five years ago, you never really made the effort to make any new ones. Yoongi was nice, you thought to yourself as he talked more about his cat, you wouldn’t mind being friends with him. 

By dinner time you were both starting to get hungry again, so you suggested ordering take out while you both cleaned up the mess in the kitchen from earlier.  You called the chicken place you knew of in town, while Yoongi started loading the dishwasher. “Hey YN?” you heard from the kitchen.

“Yes?” You half shouted back, walking down the hallway towards Yoongi. 

“Where are your dish- oh nevermind, found them!” He shouted back as you walked into the kitchen. He stood up straight after shutting the dishwasher, sighing and wiping his hands down the front of his jeans. “Dishes are done, food is ordered. What do you say we watch some Christmas movies?” 

For the rest of the night, you and Yoongi sat in front of the TV, watching sappy Lifetime movies, eating chicken and drinking beer. It was probably the most fun you’ve had in quite a few years, and you were really thankful for his company. At the end of the night, you and Yoongi exchanged phone numbers with a promise that you would give Yoongi one more day, at least, to get to know you better. You agreed, and Yoongi left with one final gummy smile and wave of his hand. 

You sighed, rubbing your hand down the front of your face. Having Yoongi here was a great distraction, but now that he’s gone and you can hear the faint sound of Christmas music playing on the credits of some crappy movie, reality was starting to sink in. After these two weeks were over, you’d return to Busan, Yoongi-less, and have to resume your normal life again. A life you weren’t satisfied with. A life you knew you didn’t want to continue living. Being here made you feel like that life didn’t exist anymore, like you were almost, happy? But you knew that it would all be over soon and everything would hurt again. You didn’t want to let yourself get wrapped up in Yoongi because only bad things could come of it, but he was making it really, really hard. You could see yourself falling for Yoongi, allowing him to make you happy, but you couldn’t. You had way too much baggage, you would never be the happy go-lucky girl you were in your teens again. You would always live with this depression, with these demons. 

As you changed into your pajamas, you stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Your eyes were sunken in, your skin was pale, and your hair had seen better days. You knew you hadn’t been taking great care of yourself, but you didn’t think it had gotten this bad. What did Yoongi see in you anyways? Your life was a wreck and you looked like it, too. You sighed to yourself, running a brush through your hair. You promised Yoongi one more day, so you were going to make it through tomorrow, at least.

December 23. Two more days until Christmas. You woke up feeling a little lighter this morning after having spent yesterday with Yoongi, but you also had a weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. You’ve never really been one to believe in superstitions, but for some reason, you had a strong feeling something bad was going to happen soon. You tried to shake off the feeling. You had woken up early this morning, just before sunrise and decided to take a steaming shower.

After your shower, you got dressed in comfy clothes and decided to sit out on the deck and smoke for a bit. It was still early in the morning, the sun still on the horizon. It really was beautiful out here. You had the perfect view of the lake from your deck. It faced towards the east, giving you a gorgeous view of the sunset just above the frozen lake. The colors of the sky were so pretty this time of day, oranges mixing with pretty pinks, you felt like you were on set for a romance movie. 

There was a low fog rolling onto the embankment from the frozen lake. It almost looked like dry ice, white billows of smoke swirling in the slight morning breeze. Admiring the landscape, you took a cigarette out of your pack, and slid your lighter out of your pocket. The sun was just barely starting to pass over the mountains in the east. You shivered a little as you lit up your cigarette, taking a deep inhale of smoke. You instantly felt at ease, the weird feeling from earlier dissipating with the sharp exhale of smoke. 

Yoongi hadn’t gone to sleep yet, and was typing on his laptop, Mochi in his lap, on his sofa. He spent a majority of the day over at your cabin yesterday and spent all night trying to get caught up with work. As a freelance writer, he made his own hours, but he wanted to make sure he was going to meet his next deadline, coming up in a few weeks. 

He gently closed his laptop and stretched his arms up into the air, cracking a few joints in the process. The noise startled Mochi and he shot up out of Yoongi’s lap, across the kitchen floor. “Sorry, buddy,” Yoongi mumbled, sleep thick in his voice. He watched as Mochi slid across the linoleum and jumped up onto the window sill above the sink. Yoongi looked out of the window curiously, eyes catching on a figure. He stood up from his spot on the sofa slowly, making his way towards the window, mindful of Mochi this time.

From his kitchen window, Yoongi had a perfect view of you standing on your deck smoking a cigarette. He watched as you took a deep inhale every couple of minutes and exhaled white swirls of smoke through your nose. The sun was just beginning to rise and the light was catching beautifully on the planes of your face. Yoongi took a moment to admire you, since he hasn’t really had the chance before. You were always intently watching him, waiting for his next move, almost like you were afraid he would leave, never quite giving in to his friendship.

The light shone over your features beautifully, highlighting your sharp cheekbones and sunken in eyes. Yoongi noticed you looked a little thin, he wasn’t sure if that had to do with heredity or something more sinister, but he tried not to dwell on it. Long eyelashes flutter over your cheeks everytime you close your eyes, basking in the sunlight. Your fingers, long and slender, held the cigarette so delicately. You seemed so gentle, so ethereal, he wonders why the world had to be so cruel to you. What did you do to deserve the foul things that have happened to you? Nothing, you didn’t do anything. You were just delt a bad hand at life. 

He watched as your long hair fluttered around your face in the breeze. It looks like you just washed it, he thought, you must be cold in the crisp morning air. With one last exhale of smoke, you put your cigarette out on the railing of your deck. Yoongi smirked to himself when he saw the small pout form on your lips. How could someone be so beautiful, yet so broken? Yoongi wasn’t sure why he felt this strong urge to protect you, to prevent any further harm coming to you, but he knew that he would do everything in his power to make sure you felt cared for. He was drawn to you, in a way he has never been drawn to another person. It both scared and excited him and sent butterflies through his stomach. He took one last glance at you through the window and decided it would be best if he got some rest before trekking back over to your cabin later. 

The rest of your morning went by relatively smoothly, having made breakfast after coming inside from your morning smoke. You cooked yourself some eggs and toast and then decided to check some emails on your laptop you brought with you. You saw a couple of emails from your boss, asking about adoption paperwork that he couldn’t find on your desk. You emailed him back quickly with the forms you had stored in your files, before powering off your computer, done with work for now. You moved the laptop from the top of your thighs to the nightstand next to your bed and leaned back against the headboard. You folded your arms behind your head and glanced around the room, taking in your childhood surroundings. 

The walls of your bedroom were still a pastel pink color with sponged on white clouds reaching up to the ceiling. You had a vivid memory of helping your mom paint the clouds when you were 8 years old. She would laugh at you everytime you would pout because the cloud didn’t come out exactly how you wanted it to. 

Across from your full size bed, was a white dresser with claw feet that still contained some old summer clothes from when you would visit during your breaks from school, probably a few sizes too small now. Along the side of the dresser and the white full length mirror on the back of your door, were stickers from your favorite bands when you were a teenager. You and Mina had collected them throughout the school year and would stick them on when you arrived for the summer. You smiled at the memories this room brought back. This was the reason you kept returning here every year, you tell yourself. To remember the times when you were happy and loved life. 

You let out a deep sigh and sunk back onto your mattress further, eyes feeling droopy. When your head hit the soft pillow, you stared up at the ceiling, still white because your mom said painting the ceiling pink would have made the room feel claustrophobic. There were still little pieces of sticky tape stuck to the stucco from when you had plastered glow in the dark stars and planets all over the ceiling, long since gone now. You never updated anything in the house, bought new furniture, or moved anything around. It would feel wrong, you thought. It wouldn’t feel like home anymore if you made changes. 

You hadn’t even entered the master bedroom, where your parents slept, since they passed. You know that Namjoon has, having gone through some of their belongings in the years since their death, but you never could bring yourself to do it. Joon had also gone through his childhood things in his room, just across the hall from you, taking what he cared for back to Seoul with him. You wondered what was left in there, too tired to actually get up and check. As you reminisced on your cabin, sleep began to take over, and eventually you fell asleep to the slow hum of the heater.

You sat up straight in bed, clutching your shirt, breathing heavy. What was that noise? Ding ding. You let out a breath of relief. It’s just the doorbell. You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, briefly glancing at the clock on your side table. 4:03 pm. How long did you sleep?

As you got up to answer the door you caught your reflection in the mirror, straightening your bed head out a little. As you made your way to the front of the house, you heard soft knocking on the door. “Coming, coming!” you yelled out to whoever was on the other side. When you arrived at the front door, you looked out the glass pane next the door, finding Yoongi standing there on your front porch. He was holding a - duffle bag? You squint your eyes in confusion, but open the door anyways. 

“Hi YN!” Yoongi starts, before taking in your appearance. You were wearing what looked to be pajama shorts and an oversized white t-shirt. “I’m sorry, did I wake you up?” He looked a little sheepish, running his hair through his blonde locks.

“A-ah, yeah, but it’s ok! I really shouldn’t have slept this long anyway,” you trailed off, opening the door a little wider and motioning for Yoongi to come in. “What’s that?” You asked, pointing at the black bag clutched in his hand.

“Oh, well…” he starts, coming all the way through the entryway and toeing his shoes off next to yours, he assumed. “Since the forecast says it’s supposed to snow, I brought some board games and some movies,” he seemed a little unsure, wary that you were going to tell him you didn’t want to hang out, or something. You smiled at him to ease his worries.

“I love board games,” you began, walking off towards your kitchen, Yoongi trailing behind you. “I haven’t really played any in years though,” you falter, “I’m not sure I’ll be any good.”

Yoongi gave you the gentlest smile you’ve seen from a man, making you melt a little more. What was this guy doing to you? “Don’t worry, I’m not the competitive type anyways.” He gave you a little wink, making you giggle. Yoongi’s eyes shot up to yours, a gummy smile spreading across his handsome face. The tinkling sound of your laugh made his inside heat up. He absolutely adored the sound. 

The two of you ended up ordering take out again, Yoongi insisting on paying this time, and sat on your couches with games and snacks spread out on the coffee table. You guys had already played a couple rounds of Scrabble, and one round of Scattergories and now you were leaning back enjoying the pizza Yoongi had ordered. Just like Yoongi had predicted, it started snowing around 6 o’clock and has been for the last hour or so. 

“You’re telling me you lived your whole life never having a pet?!” You laughed, hand covering your mouth still full of pizza.

“Nope. My parents never let me have a pet growing up and when I was old enough to move out I was just too busy to take care of one. A few years ago when I was feeling lonely, I decided to give it a go.”

You couldn’t imagine a life without pets. Growing up your family always had dogs or cats around, one time even adopting a pet hamster. You haven’t had pets in a few years, but you’re around them all the time due to work. 

“I love Mochi, though. I couldn’t imagine my life without him in it now.” He smiled fondly, talking about his beloved cat. “What about you, any pets back home?”

“Ah, no. I don’t have the time anymore. But it’s ok because I spend most of my time with them at work.” As much as you hated the people you worked with, you absolutely adored the animals. You didn’t think you could ever work in a profession that didn’t allow you to work with animals, it just wouldn’t make sense to you. 

Yoongi smiled at you, damn that smile was making you seriously weak. “I’d love to introduce you to Mochi while you’re here, if you’d like.” 

“I would love that.”

“Would you like to come over for dinner tomorrow? It’ll be Christmas Eve, I can cook something for us, and you can hangout with Mochi. I’m sure he’d love the company, I’m usually pretty boring.” He laughed. 

“I -” you hesitated. Why were you hesitating? You really liked Yoongi. You liked him so much that you even forgot about your promise to him about ‘one more day’. You were enjoying the time you spent with him so much that thoughts about your parents, Namjoon, and your demons we’re at the back of your mind when you were with him. You mean, you’ve literally only smoked two cigarettes today, that has to be some sort of record for you. So why were you hesitating?You knew why, you didn’t want Yoongi to get too attached. Who were you kidding, you didn’t want to get too attached. You’d be leaving soon and it would only hurt you more in the long run. Yoongi was staring at you, a hopeful look in his eyes. “I’m not sure that’s a great idea, Yoongi.”

The crestfallen look on Yoongi’s face made you want to immediately take back your words, but he beat you to it. “Can I ask you why you think that?” He was much bolder than when you met a couple of days ago, you noted. 

You wrung your hands together in your lap, having finished your slice of pizza a few minutes ago. “I just don’t want to make this harder than it already is,” you trailed off, eyes fixated on a loose thread on the rug beneath the coffee table, “I have to go back home in a week, and like I told you a couple of days ago, I’m not sure if I even want to live that life anymore.” You whispered the last part, biting on the inside of your cheek. 

Yoongi’s eyes softened. He realized it wasn’t about him, but about you and how you didn’t want to hurt him. He knew you were too kind for your own good. “YN. It’s just dinner. And who says we can’t still be friends when you do go back home?” he added extra emphasis to the word do, making sure to not leave an ‘if’ in that sentence. He’s going to make sure you make it back home in one piece if it’s the last thing he does. 

You knew what Yoongi was trying to do, and you really did appreciate it. You also really enjoyed his company, so you thought, fuck it. “Ok” you whispered out softly, finally meeting Yoongi’s eyes. 

“Ok? Does that mean you’ll have dinner with me tomorrow night?”

“Yes. I’ll have dinner with you. On one condition” you acquiesced, a soft smirk on your face.

Yoongi’s eyebrows shot up, disappearing under his blonde fringe. “Anything” he breathed out, a little too quickly for his liking.

“I get to cuddle with your cat all night. I really miss the animals.”

Yoongi tried, and failed, to hide a huge grin. “Deal.”

Last night, after you agreed to have dinner with Yoongi, you played a few more board games, kicking his ass in Monopoly a couple of times, before you said your goodbyes. Yoongi left the board games at your house, reasoning that he would definitely be back over to avenge himself in Monopoly. You giggled at him as you waved goodbye with the promise of dinner.

It was now 1 o’clock in the afternoon on Christmas Eve, and you were starting to panic. Christmas Eve was a hard day for you to get through, considering the memories you have of this day. Not only that, but you still couldn’t shake that odd feeling that you had when you woke up yesterday. However, today is even more panic-inducing because you are about to have dinner with your cute neighbor, who you may or may not have a slight (read: huge) crush on. 

You spent a majority of your morning sulking around your cabin, taking more than a few smoke breaks on the deck, and cleaning the kitchen and living room up in your anxiety driven state. Now, with nothing left to tidy up, you decide to start getting ready for dinner. 

After taking a long, hot shower, you dried and styled your hair, put just enough makeup on to cover your dark bags and sallow skin, and ventured to your room to rummage through your suitcase in order to find something appropriate to wear. You didn’t bring much with you on this trip besides sweatpants and pajamas. It’s not like you would’ve gone anywhere other than the corner store for more cigarettes had you not met Yoongi. You eventually decide on a dark pair of jeans that you luckily decided to throw in your suitcase last minute, and an old band t-shirt. You honestly didn’t have much else, and you were hoping Yoongi understood (he did) you didn’t really plan on seeing anyone these couple of weeks. 

A little after four in the afternoon, your anxiety started to build up even more. You were anxiously awaiting Yoongi’s text to head over to his place, and decided that it was a great time for a smoke. You grabbed Yoongi’s coat that was draped over your vanity chair, your pack of cigarettes, and your lighter, and headed out towards the deck. You had been so wrapped up in making yourself look presentable, that you had mostly forgotten what day it was, and the dread you usually felt about it. It was nice in a way, but now, sitting out here on your deck, staring out at that damned lake, you couldn’t help but remember why it was you started smoking these stupid cigarettes in the first place. 

“YN?” you heard someone call, distant, yet still close? You were confused, you couldn’t open your eyes. Why couldn’t you open your eyes? “YN, can you hear me?” Namjoon? Namjoon! You thought to yourself. Why couldn’t he hear you!?

For a moment, your eyes fluttered open. You saw Namjoon, hovering above you. But there was someone else next to him. They were wearing a uniform. A cop? No. They were wearing latex gloves and holding what looked like an IV bag.  “YN!” You heard Namjoon yell again. You desperately wanted to answer him, but your voice wouldn’t come through. You blinked a few times, before everything faded to black again. That was the last memory you had of your brother. 

Your cell phone dinged in your pocket, startling you back into the present. You looked at the cigarette in your hand, nearly burned to the butt and you haven’t taken a single drag. Quickly, you brought it up to your lips and inhaled before pulling your phone out of Yoongi’s coat. 

From Yoongi [4:33 pm]: dinner will be ready in 20, want to head over?

You glanced over to Yoongi’s house, briefly looking through the only window that had the curtains drawn. You didn’t see any movement. Had he seen you out here smoking again? You looked back at your phone, taking another drag from the cigarette, before typing out your reply. 

From You [4:35 pm]: ya, be right over

You pocketed your phone and put your cigarette out, tossing the butt into the trash can on your way back inside. You locked the sliding glass door before heading to your room to spray some perfume. You didn’t want to go over to Yoongi’s smelling like smoke. Before you left, you grabbed your keys, double checked the doors were locked, and walked the short distance between the two houses. 

Before you knocked, you took in the state of Yoongi’s home. It was quant, smaller than your parent’s cabin, painted white with forest green window sills and roof tiles. You noticed there were planter boxes under his front windows, but no plants to be found. Hung on his front door was a cute Christmas wreath, plain with pretty burgundy poinsettias on it. You smiled to yourself, happy to see some form of Christmas decorations, not having put any of your own out. You’ve really forgotten how much you used to love Christmas. You loved the decorations, the food, the movies, but you’ve really forgotten what it was like to feel that holiday cheer. Having Yoongi in your life, even for these few days, has really helped you see what you’ve been missing out on.

Before you could even lift your hand to knock on the dark green door, it was opening to reveal a giddy looking Yoongi. You took a moment to drink him in, in all his glory. He was wearing some dark jeans, much like you, and a plain black t-shirt. You idly wondered if he didn’t dress up on purpose to spare you the embarrassment of not having nice clothes. His blonde hair, usually a disheveled mess, was combed out and surprisingly shiny, despite what looked like excessive bleaching. The moment he saw that you were wearing his coat, a huge gummy grin took over his face, causing his cat-like eyes to scrunch in happiness. The look on his face made butterflies erupt in your stomach, as you mirrored his grin.

“Hi,” he said shyly, still smiling.

“Hi yourself,” you breathed, “thank you for having me over.”

He waved away your thanks, moving aside and gesturing for you to come in. “Don’t mention it, really. The pleasure is all mine.” You don’t know the weight those words hold, but he means it, you can tell. 

As you walked through the entryway of his home, you pulled off your shoes, setting them on the neatly organized shoe rack next to his front door. Moving through to his living room, you noticed how well organized his entire house was. There was a pristine looking cover over his sofa which also housed a couple of blankets and throw pillows. On his coffee table were a few books and what looked like photo albums. As you took in your surroundings, Yoongi watched you curiously, one eyebrow cocked. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but you weren’t expecting him to be so… clean?

“I like to keep things organized, sometimes it can be a bad habit of mine,” he trailed off, looking around his neat space, “dinner is almost done. Do you want something to drink?”

“Yes, please.” You sighed in relief. You were pacified at the thought of having a glass of something to help lessen your nerves. You only knew Yoongi for the past three days, but for some reason, this almost felt like a first date. God, when was the last time you went on a date? It had to have been at least 5 years ago. The thought alone made your anxiety flare up tenfold. 

“I have both white and red wine, soda and different types of tea…” you were still standing awkwardly, hands clasped in front of you looking almost like you were afraid to move further into his house. Yoongi walked up to you, gently taking your hand in his, causing your eyes to snap up, meeting his own. “Hey, it’s ok,” he smiled gently at you, “come on, I’ll get us those drinks.” 

He led you into his kitchen which had his dining room attached, a small four person wooden table sitting near a bay window. It was cozy, you thought, somewhere you would like to retire too. Now, that wasn’t a thought you’d had in a long time. You never wondered about growing old, surprise you even made it this far. 

Yoongi let go of your hand to reach into a cabinet by his sink. “Wine ok?” he asked, sensing the tension in your body. 

“Y-yes. Red, please.” You weren’t sure why you were being so shy and awkward, you’ve spent the last couple of days getting to know Yoongi, pretty well you might add. You think it’s partly to do with what day it is, as Christmas Eve always puts you a little more on edge, and a little more flighty. Yoongi quietly pours two glasses of red wine, passing one to you politely. You murmur a thank you before taking a sip.

Yoongi watched you as you sipped your wine, looking around his kitchen curiously. He could sense your anxiety, it was rolling off of you in waves. He didn’t want this to be awkward, he wanted to make sure you had a good night, and wanted to take your mind off of things for a while. “Want to meet Mochi?” he asked, hopeful it would shift your mood a little. 

Your eyes lit up at the mention of the cat, and were quickly nodding your head. Yoongi walked away down the hallway, returning moments later with a petite framed calico cat in his arms. You internally chuckled at the resemblance they shared in their small statures. “He’s a little shy, but if you give him some time, he’ll warm up to you” Yoongi smiled at you, leading you over to his couch, sitting down with Mochi in his lap. Slowly, you sat down, not wanting to scare the creature, and sat your wine glass on a wooden coaster on the coffee table. 

Immediately upon sitting, Mochi hopped off Yoongi’s lap and right into yours. You let out a small, shocked gasp as the cat started kneading into your thighs, making himself comfortable. Yoongi’s eyes widened as they met you. “H-he never does that. It usually takes him a while to warm up to people. In fact, the first time my friend Jungkook came over, he nearly lost an eye to him.” He chuckled lowly at the memory. 

“Animals usually like me,” you said softly, bringing your hand up to run through Mochi’s fur. It was long, and extremely fluffy, “I think they know how much I adore them.” Yoongi watched on as you smiled down at his now purring cat in your lap. For a brief moment, he wondered what it would be like to adopt another cat with you, or maybe even a dog, before lightly shaking his head and rising from the couch. 

“I’m gonna check on dinner, it should be done soon. You’ll probably be… occupied, until then.” Yoongi gave you a soft smile, which you returned, before walking off into the kitchen. You leaned back into the soft fabric of the couch, absentmindedly running your hand over Mochi. 

You could hear the clinking of dishes coming from the kitchen as you loved on Mochi. Whatever Yoongi was cooking smelled absolutely delicious and was making your mouth water. You had only eaten breakfast today, and were on the verge of starving. On top of that, you haven’t had a Christmas meal in ages. You were actually starting to get excited about having dinner with Yoongi, and you had this purring love bug in your lap, and your glass of wine, to thank. 

“It’s ready!” Yoongi called from the kitchen, scaring the sleeping cat, causing him to jump up and run off towards the kitchen. “Oh you scaredy cat” Yoongi grumbled as Mochi slid past him on the floor. You chuckled as you got up from the couch and headed towards the dining table. Upon seeing what Yoongi had laid out on the table, your eyes widened and you let out a breathy gasp. 

“You made all this?!” You questioned incredulously. 

“U-uh, yeah? I told you, I used to cook with my grandma. We always made Christmas dinners together,” he ran his hand through his, now messy, locks, “I still try and cook as much as I can, I actually enjoy it.” He looked away, blush rising to his cheeks.

You looked at all the different assortments of food Yoongi had prepared. There was a large skillet that contained beef bulgogi, and smaller dishes that housed kimchi, steamed eggs, japchae, and steamed rice. “It looks amazing, Yoongi!” You exclaimed, a genuine smile on your face. 

“Well let’s not stare at it all night. Let’s eat!”

You and Yoongi ate your meal, laughing at each other’s odd Christmas stories. You both had another glass of wine, feeling looser as the night went on. Mochi sat close to his owner, tail flicking idly, waiting for scraps of food to be accidentally flung from chopsticks during conversation. According to Yoongi, the cat loved eggs, a trait he found both odd and endearing. You were so enthralled in conversation with Yoongi, you barely registered that the food was nearly gone, two glasses of wine downed, and it was nearing midnight. Sparing a glance at the oven clock, you realized just how late it was getting.  “Do you mind,” you started, before hesitating, unsure if you wanted to ask. 

“What is it, YN?” Yoongi encouraged you. He was so kind, always observant, sensing when you needed a little push.

“Would you mind if I went out back to smoke?” You looked away, rubbing your hand up and down your arm, embarrassed that you were about to bring your conversation to and end just because you needed to smoke. Nasty habit, you knew you should quit, but it was hard.

“Oh, of course! Sorry, I didn’t realize it was getting so late,” he started, getting up from his seat and grabbing dishes, “want me to join you? I can deal with the mess later.”

You grabbed your own plate, following him to the sink and setting it down gently. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.” You smile at Yoongi, happy for the company.

Yoongi didn’t have a deck like you, but he had a nice yard with tall, green grass. Right off his dining room was a sliding glass door that led to a small concrete patio that was furnished with a couple patio chairs and a fire pit. His land went straight back, down to the lake, just like yours. The only thing separating your properties was a line of shrubs and trees. Yoongi was busying himself with the fire pit as you sat in one of the chairs. You opened your pack of cigarettes, noticing you only had one left, mentally nothing you’d had to run down to the store to grab more. 

As you lit your cigarette, Yoongi was lighting a small fire with the firewood he kept by the backdoor. It was a small one, but it was enough to keep you warm in the freezing weather. Instead of sitting down in the chair across from you, like you expected him to, Yoongi stood in front of you and held his hand out. For a moment, you were confused, until you realized he wanted you to take his outstretched hand. You complied, placing your free hand in his, turning your head to blow out your previous inhale of smoke. 

Yoongi gave you a gentle tug, indicating he wanted you to stand up. As you stood, Yoongi maneuvered himself behind you, so you were standing directly in front of the fire, as he shakily wrapped his arms around your middle. The feeling of his hands on your waist was doing things to you in your alcohol hazed state. 

“Is this ok?” he asked quietly, lips close to your ear and he set his chin on your shoulder. You nodded slightly, feeling almost dizzy from whatever this feeling was that Yoongi was causing. You could feel his warm breath on your neck as you took another drag from your cigarette. 

“Does the smoke not bother you?” you asked, a little forced, holding the smoke in your lungs. 

“I just want to be close to you,” he whispers, “YN, I like you.” 

You giggled at his comment, releasing the smoke from your chest. “I like you too, Yoongi.”

“No, YN, I mean I really, really like you.”

To say you were surprised by his sudden confession would be an understatement. You took a sharp inhale of breath, nearly choking on the cold air, and not because of your cigarette, before Yoongi began again, “I’m sorry if it’s sudden, or if it’s not what you want to hear right now, but I really need you to know that I enjoy spending time with you, and would love the opportunity to get to know you better, if you’ll allow me.” You tossed the butt of your cigarette into the fire pit and hesitantly turned around in Yoongi’s arms. 

Your arms snaked around his shoulder, criss-crossing behind his neck. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew the things that go on in my head.” The wine was making you bold, making you want to tell Yoongi exactly how you felt. “I’m afraid if you get to know me, you wont like what you find.”

Yoongi sighed, looking deep into your eyes that have long since lost their sparkle. “I can’t promise you much, YN. I’m a freelance writer who lives in the middle of nowhere. But what I can promise you, is that whatever I find in you, wont send me running. I know what I’ve already found in you - you’re a sweet, compassionate girl, who in just three days has me falling head over heels,” he breathed, inches away from your face, “I’ve never met anyone like you, YN.” Yoongi brought his hand from your waist up to your face, ever so gently gracing the back of his fingers against your sharp cheekbone. 

You leaned into his touch, not remembering what it was like to be cared for in such a gentle manner. “Yoongi, I-” you weren’t sure what you wanted to say. You wanted so badly to give in to his sweet words, to let him in and break down your walls for him. You were scared, terrified even, of what that meant. He would learn all about your dark past, your demons, the monsters that threatened to take you down. A silent tear trailed down your cheek because of your internal battle. 

Yoongi was quick to swipe it away with his thumb. “You don’t have to say anything back, YN,” his voice barely a whisper, like if he spoke too loud you’d blow away in the cold breeze, “Just promise me one thing?” You made a sound of confirmation, “One more day.”

At that, you broke down in Yoongi’s strong arms. Your face pushed into his firm chest, tears flowing freely. Sobs wracked your chest and Yoongi held you, rubbing a hand up and down your back. You weren’t sure, but you think you feel Yoongi’s chest rising and falling in a rhythm that made it seem like he was crying with you. You didn’t want to chance a look at him, worried it would break you further. You stood there for what felt like an eternity before you calmed enough to pull back from Yoongi, hands unclasping from behind his back and coming around to fist in his shirt. “Thank you, Yoongi. Thank you.” You let out a couple more weak sobs, before hugging him as tightly as you could. You didn’t need to explain, Yoongi understood.

You and Yoongi stayed wrapped up in each other's arms for the better part of the night, having moved inside to the couch, before you were getting too tired to keep your eyes open. Yoongi was laying against the back of the couch, you slotted in front of him with his arms around your chest, holding you tightly to him. You let out a small yawn, making Yoongi smile to himself. “Tired, love?” 

You let out another yawn, bringing your hand up to rub your eyes. “Yeah,” you sighed, “I should probably get going.” You really didn’t want to leave, but you knew you should. You would feel a lot better in the morning if you slept in your own bed, not on this too small couch. 

“I’ll walk you home,” Yoongi offered, standing up from the couch, pulling you with him. You moved to take off his coat before he stopped you with a gentle hand on your shoulder, “Keep it. It looks better on you anyway.” He smiled down at you, running his hand from your shoulder, down your arm, taking your hand in his. 

You smiled up at the slightly taller man, blushing profusely. You followed Yoongi through his home, toeing on your shoes at the front door, hands still intertwined. As promised, Yoongi walked you to your front porch, waiting until you had entered your house and locked the door before walking back to his own home. Once inside, you leaned your back against the door, head tilting until it hit the glass window pane in the middle of it. You sighed to yourself, feeling lighter than you have in probably years. You weren’t used to this feeling, and on Christmas Eve of all days. Well… You guessed it was probably Christmas now, with how long you spent laying on Yoongi’s couch. With that thought in mind, you pulled your phone out from Yoongi’s coat pocket to check the time. Before you could even register the time, you were stopping in your tracks as what greeted you on your phone screen. When was the last time you checked your phone? You’d been so wrapped up in Yoongi you don’t recall looking at it all night.

On your lock screen, you saw a missed call. Several, actually. From Namjoon. 

Your heart stuttered in your chest. Why was he calling you? You haven’t spoken to him in nearly three years. There was no reason for him to be calling you, unless there was some kind of emergency, right? Panicking, you walked further into the cabin, not bothering to take off the coat or your shoes. You sped walked right into your bedroom, eyes glued to your phone the entire time. Should you call him back? You weren’t sure if you wanted to speak to him right now, especially after the wonderful night you had with Yoongi. But - what if he was calling to apologize, to make things right? You had to find out.

As you unlocked your phone, you saw the notification for a new voicemail. Hesitantly, you opened your calls app, and clicked on the message from Namjoon. You saw it was only about a minute long. Curiosity getting the best of you, you played the message:

“Y-YN? YN! W-what are you doing baby sister?” you could tell he was drunk from the way he was slurring his words, panic immediately rising in your chest. “Are you at mom and dad’s cabin? Yo-you always did love it there, didn’t you? Loved it so much you even tried ending your own life there!” A sharp laugh came from the phone, causing you to pull it away from your ear for a second. “You know YN, I wish you- you did. I wish I never pulled you out of th-that fucking lake. Then m-maybe I wouldn’t have to relive that God damn nigh-nightmare every fucking n-night YN,” you didn’t want to listen anymore to this anymore, you shut your eyes tight,hot tears welling up behind your eyelids, “G-go be with mom and dad, it’s what you want right?! I just-” the line cut off, ending the voicemail. You stumbled backwards, back hitting your bedroom door. You couldn’t see, lights still off, not having bothered with them when you burst in the room. Stunned, you still had the phone to your ear, other hand coming up to push at your eyes, willing the tears to stop forming. You slid down the back of your bedroom door, finally letting go of your phone, causing it to clatter down to the wood floor. Your breathing was ragged, eyes still glued shut in pain. Panic. You were panicking. You haven’t had a panic attack in a couple of years, but you knew the signs. You hugged your knees to your chest and fell over on your side, sobbing into your forearms. 

Is that how Namjoon, your own brother, really felt all these years? He wished he never saved your life? It shouldn’t be surprising to you, the last memory you have of him is in the back of an ambulance, grief written all over his face. That was the last time you saw him, until he texted you months later after countless missed calls, texts, and emails from you. He told you that you needed help, and that he needed to distance himself from you. Did your actions take such a huge toll on his life, that he wished you were no longer on this planet? 

You aren’t sure how long you laid on your bedroom floor, sobbing, but it must have been hours. By the time you finally pulled yourself up, you could see the beginnings of morning shining through your window. 

You needed to smoke, or drink heavily, or do something to ease this pain. You remembered briefly that you were out of cigarettes, not willing to drive yourself to the store to buy more. Drinking seemed like it would only worsen your pain right now, so you pulled yourself over to your suitcase, tossing it open on your bed. After a few moments of rifling through your things, you found what you were looking for, before heading off into your bathroom.

It was Christmas day. Yoongi hasn’t been excited for Christmas since he was a teenager, and his mother was still around to make the holidays special. He hasn’t done much for Christmas since he moved out here. Every once in a while, Jungkook would invite him over for Christmas dinner with his wife a couple towns over, but she was pregnant this year and Yoongi didn’t want to intrude. 

Yoongi was actually excited for Christmas today. Sure, he didn’t have a tree, or presents to give, but he had someone to spend it with. Someone special, which was saying a lot for a recluse like him. 

It was early, an ungodly hour according to Yoongi on a normal day, but today was different. As he got out of bed, he startled Mochi who shot across the floor, out his bedroom door. He smiled to himself and shook his head lightly. Such a scaredy cat, he thought to himself. Yoongi planned on making some Christmas cookies, or maybe a rice cake for today, before heading over to your house to spend the day with you. After his late night confession yesterday, Yoongi was feeling bolder than ever when it came to you, and decided to shoot you a quick text to let you know he was thinking about you.

To YN [7:37 am]: good morning, love

To YN [7:37 am]: I hope it’s ok if I come over in a bit

To YN [7:38 am]: I want to let you sleep in a little longer, but I can’t wait to see you

He pocketed his phone, satisfied with his texts, for now. He assumed you were still sleeping since you were at his last night until well after midnight. 

As the morning went on, Yoongi whipped up a traditional rice cake with fruits, another recipe from his grandmother’s cookbook, something she always made for his family at Christmas. By the time he was done with the cake, it was nearing nine in the morning, and he was starting to worry slightly that you haven't texted him back. He usually saw you out on your deck having a morning smoke by now, and he had definitely been sneaking glances out his kitchen window to try and catch a glimpse of you. He didn’t see you all morning, which was causing a slight panic to arise in his chest. 

By 9:15, Yoongi couldn’t contain his panic anymore. Something was wrong. He could feel it. You should be awake by now. You always came out for a cigarette by now. Pulling on a coat, Yoongi put on his slippers, rice cake long forgotten, as he trudged over to your front door.

He knocked gently at first, not wanting to startle you if you indeed were just sleeping in. No response. This time, Yoongi wrapped on the door a little harder, making enough noise to wake you up without a doubt. He waited a couple of minutes before the feeling in his chest dropped to his stomach. He felt sick. This isn’t right. 

Yoongi walked around the front of your house to peer into your bedroom window. He vaguely remembered the location of it from when he carried you in there the first night you met. He put his hands up to the glass and attached his face to his fingers, looking into your room. He didn’t see you, but what he did see worried him even more. Your bedroom door was wide open and your suitcase was open on your bed. He glanced at the driveway to confirm your car was indeed still there before he ran around to your back deck. Yoongi was in full panic mode now, seconds away from breaking a window. When he got to your sliding glass door, he attempted to open it, and to his surprise it slid right open. He would have to give you a lecture about locking your doors after he made sure you were ok.

“YN?” he called out, slightly louder than he meant, “YN? Love? Are you in here?” Yoongi walked through your living room hesitantly, almost scared of what he might find. He didn’t see any sign of you, so he trudged down the hallway leading to your bedroom. “YN!?” His voice was starting to become panicked the longer he couldn’t find you. “YN please,” he sighed out, realizing wherever you were you probably weren’t hearing him. He peeked into your room one more time to make sure you really weren’t in there. He didn’t find you, but what he did find was your cellphone, laying on the floor with a cracked screen. Yoongi tilted his head as he knelt down to pick the phone up. It lit up with the movement, showing him the missed texts from himself, and missed calls from… Namjoon? Oh no. “No. No, no, no” Yoongi whispered to himself. This couldn't be good. He pocketed your phone, making his way further down the hallway. He saw light coming from underneath one of the closed doors and immediately started banging on it. “YN!? YN are you in there? Please love, open the door!” Yoongi tried turning the door handle, unsurprised when he found it locked. “YN I will break this door down!” He threatened, terrified beyond belief at what he would find when he did.

With one sharp inhale of air, Yoongi grabbed onto the door handle and shoved his shoulder into the door. Once, twice, and on the third hit it popped open, breaking the doorframe in the process. Yoongi ignored the stinging pain in his shoulder as soon as he saw your prone form on the bathroom floor, empty pill bottle in the sink. The air left Yoongi’s lungs as he knelt down next to your head, gently cradling your head in his hands, setting it in his lap. “YN?! No, no! YN!” He was frantically trying to get his phone out of his pocket and unlocked. “YN, honey, please. Please wake up, please. YN you promised. You promised me YN!” his cries were frantic, tears streaming down his face, “You promised me! Please YN!” he begged you to wake up, to be alive, terrified he would never see your eyes light up or your beautiful smile again. Hot tears streamed onto his phone as he dialed for emergency services.

Yoongi sat in the waiting area of the emergency room, speaking quietly into the phone, fingers playing with a frayed edge of this t-shirt. “I don’t know, Jungkook, they won't tell me anything.” He hadn’t stopped crying since he found you on your bathroom floor, now just letting silent tears roll down his cheeks.

“You’re telling me, you met some girl four days ago, have been spending all your time with her, and you find her, half alive on her bathroom floor? What kind of mess are you getting yourself into Yoongi? You’ve never been the type to take an interest in girls, much less ones you barely know!” Jungkook half-yelled through the phone. Yoongi understood why Jungkook was worried, he really did, but he was just looking for some kind of anchor right now to keep him grounded.

“JK, please,” Yoongi barely whimpered into the phone, lip trembling, “I l- I don’t want to lose her.” He wasn’t ready to say the words yet, not when he wasn’t sure if you were even going to make it. 

Jungkook heaved a heavy sigh, obviously frustrated with the situation. “I’m really sorry man. I wish I could tell you she was going to be alright, she’s - what was her name again?”

“YN.” 

“Right, YN. From what you’ve told me, it seems like you got to her before it was too late, right? I’m sure everything will be fine. You said they’re pumping her stomach now, I’m sure it won't be much longer before you have more answers,” Jungkook sounded like he wanted to add on to that, but thought better of it, “Do you need me to come by? Eunha is at her parents house right now, I hung back to talk to you, I don’t mind-”

“Jungkook, no. It’s fucking Christmas. I’m sorry for taking you away-” he sniffled harder, “away from your family.” The dam is broken now, Yoongi was unable to stop the tears from flowing, sobs wracking his small frame. 

Jungkook’s heart broke at the sound of his oldest friend’s tears. He didn’t mind leaving his wife for a few hours, he knew she was safe with her parents, probably about to start working on dinner for tonight. “I’ll be there as soon as I can, man. Hang in there.”

Yoongi let out a shaky sigh, looking down at his now black phone screen. He felt like he was underwater, like his heart was beating in his ears. He could vaguely hear the chatter of the nurses and people in the waiting room, but his sole focus was on the pounding in his chest and the sinking feeling in his gut. All he could think about was you; what drove you to this? What could he have done differently last night to ensure your safety? Why was your brother calling you insistently throughout the morning? Most importantly, were you going to be ok? He didn’t want to think about that right now, couldn’t think about that right now, unless he wanted the hospital to have to admit him, too. 

Before Yoongi could spiral any further, he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see his youngest friend, dressed in gray sweats and a loose black pullover. Jungkook had a sad look in his eyes, not pity, but heartache at the pain his friend was feeling. Jungkook squatted down in front of Yoongi, hand still on his shoulder, so he could be at eye level with him. “Hey man. Any news?” He asked, solemnly. 

Yoongi shook his head slightly, trying to collect himself enough to utter a few words. “No. Nothing.” Yoongi squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tears to stop, just for a moment. His effort was all in vain, as Jungkook took hold of Yoongi’s hand, pulling him up into the taller man’s chest, embracing him. Yoongi’s small frame seemed even smaller in this moment, shoulders shrunk in on themselves, as Jungkook hugged the broken man.

“Why don’t you tell me about her?” Jungkook whispered to Yoongi, rubbing a hand up and down his back comfortingly. “We can grab some coffee and you can tell me all about her.” Jungkook wanted to get Yoongi away from this waiting room full of curious eyes, and wanted him to relax a little. He knew he was going to want to see you as soon as you were in the clear, and he wanted to make sure he was in a good enough state to do so. He could feel Yoongi nod against his chest, pulling away but still keeping one arm around the shorter man’s shoulders. 

Yoongi and Jungkook sat at a quiet table in the corner of the hospital cafeteria, nursing two black coffees. Yoongi was staring out of the window to his right, not really paying attention to what Jungkook was saying.

“Yoongi, do you want to talk about it? How did you guys even meet?”

Yoongi gave a small shrug, “she’s been visiting every year since I moved into my grandma’s house. I just now finally built up the courage to say hi. She seemed sad.” had a permanent frown in his brow. 

“So you wanted to say hello because she seemed sad?”

“Yes, JK, what more do you want from me?” Yoongi shot the younger man a glare from where he sat across from him.

Jungkook leaned back slightly, holding his hands up in a pacifying manner. “Hey, hey, man. I just want to hear about her, want you to tell me about her. That’s all” He said in a hushed tone.

Yoongi looked down at his coffee, focusing on the small billows of steam rising from it. “I’m sorry - I just -” he looked up at Jungkook, unshed tears threatening to fall again, “She’s perfect, you know? She doesn’t deserve any of this pain. She lost her parents, her brother, basically everyone who cared about her. I just wanted to- to be someone she could lean on,” he blinked rapidly, trying to rid the tears before adding on, “I think I love her, JK.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened a fraction before he schooled his expression, nodding his head. “I support you Yoongi, you know that. I always will.” Yoongi nodded at this. He knew it, would never forget it. Him and Jungkook had been through so much together, that’s why he was the first person Yoongi called when he got to the hospital this morning. “What do you think happened that caused her to do it?”

Yoongi bit his lip, remembering he had your phone tucked away in his pocket still. He slid it out, setting it on the tabletop between him and Jungkook. “I’m not sure… but I think it has something to do with her brother calling her.” As if he was summoned, Namjoon’s name appeared on the small screen, phone vibrating so violently it moved a little across the table. He’d been calling all morning, and from what Yoongi could gather from your lock screen, all night, too. It wasn’t his place to go through your phone, or to answer the calls from your brother, especially if him calling had anything to do with your current condition.

“Are you going to answer him?” Jungkook hesitantly asked, looking from the phone, to Yoongi, and back again as the vibrating faded out. 

Yoongi shook his head quickly, causing a sharp pain to shoot through his temple. He really needed to stop crying, he thought. “No. What if he’s the reason she’s here in the first place?”

“He’s her brother right? Her family?” Jungkook started, seeing Yoongi nod in confirmation he continued, “don’t you think he should know his sister is in the hospital for attempted suicide?”

Yoongi scoffed. He was bitter, but part of him knew Jungkook was right. He’s still her family, after all. Would it be the right thing to do, to tell him you’re here? Would he even want to see you? From what you’ve told Yoongi about your brother, he doesn’t think so. “He left her the last time it happened, hasn’t spoken to her since,” Yoongi mumbled, almost too quietly for Jungkook to hear, “I’m not sure he would even care.”

Jungkook pursed his lips. He doesn’t know you, nor is he going to pretend to know what it’s like to be in your shoes. Yoongi knew you better than he did, so he was going to take Yoongi’s word for it. “Want to head back up? See if there’s any news?” Yoongi nodded, looking down at the floor. The both grabbed their to-go cups and headed towards the elevators. 

Pain. Seething hot pain in your throat, that’s all you mind was focusing on right now. Your vision was black, and no matter how hard you tried to make a sound, nothing would come out. It felt like a thousand hot knives were forcing themselves down your esophagus, blocking any air flow. You were suffocating, this must be what it feels like to die, right? Because the last thing you remember was laying down on the cool tile floor of your bathroom after you swallowed your entire bottle of antidepressants. The pain in your throat must be from the excessive amount of pills you downed, right? Nothing else could explain this excruciating pain. You were obviously being punished for taking fate into your own hands. That was the only reasonable explanation you could come up with in your current state of mind.

“She’s waking up!” 

Wait. Why can you hear people? If there were people around, were you alive? 

“Administer more Propofol, she needs to be unconscious.”

No. No, no, no, no. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You were supposed to be gone. You wanted to be gone, but right now all you could think about now was making this pain stop. You silently prayed that whoever was helping you would make this pain go away. 

Yoongi was leaning on Jungkook’s firm shoulder, both sitting on ugly plastic green chairs in the hospital waiting room. A nurse had informed Yoongi that you were out of the operating room, and were moved to a more private ward of the hospital to recover. He wasn’t allowed in yet, as they wanted to monitor you a little while longer to make sure you were out of the woods. They explained to him that the first few hours after an overdose were the most crucial if there was any hope of the brain recovering. 

Yoongi was distraught, to say the least. Torn between calling Namjoon and waiting. He knew you didn’t have your parents anymore, knew that you and your brother didn’t speak, despite the 100 plus missed calls on your phone that said otherwise. He wasn’t sure if you had any friends back home in Busan, but from what you’ve told him, he guessed you didn’t. He was worried that you wouldn’t remember him when you woke up, and you would be confused and scared, alone in the hospital. He thought about calling your brother, just so you’d have a familiar face to wake up to, but the devil on his shoulder wouldn’t let him make the call. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach that if you did, in fact, remember what happened, the last person you’d want to see is Namjoon. 

Jungkook was deathly silent, texting his wife and family updates about you and Yoongi. Despite not knowing Yoongi well, or you at all, Jungkook and his entire extended family took an interest in your well-being. Jungkook told them how you had no family, and they completely understood why he was missing Christmas dinner. Yoongi felt bad for keeping him, but Jungkook reassured him over and over again, this is where he wants to be. 

“Mr. Min?” a mouse-like voice called from the circular desk at the center of the waiting area. 

Yoongi shot ramrod straight in his seat, eyes searching for the voice. A short, dark-haired woman who looked to be around Yoongi’s age, was making her way towards him. She had a sweet smile on her face, which only minutely lessened Yoongi’s worries.

“Mr. Min?” She asked again, hesitantly. She waited for Yoongi’s grunt in confirmation before continuing, “I don’t have anyone listed as Miss Y/LN’s next of kin, so since you were the one who brought her here, would you like an update on her status?” He voice was kind and soft, respectful of the environment they were currently in.

Yoongi cleared his throat lightly, “Ye-yes, of course. Yes.” He stuttered out, standing up and moving towards the kind nurse. He glanced over his shoulder at Jungkook, who gave him a small smile, encouraging him to go with the lady.

“I’ll be fine, do what you need to do,” Jungkook waved him off.

The young nurse nodded and turned around, walking back towards the desk. Yoongi trailed after her like a lost puppy, waiting for answers. “Mr. Min, we’re going to be keeping Miss Y/LN here at the hospital for a few days. She’s being put under suicide watch for 72 hours, as is protocol with cases like these,” Yoongi nodded solemnly, understanding the severity of the situation, “I see you listed on her intake paperwork that this wasn’t her first attempt. Is that right?”

Yoongi nodded his head. He didn’t like sharing your personal stories with this stranger, but he understood it was going to help them better care for you, which is all he wanted. “Yes. She had attempted… yeah. Three years ago.” 

The woman nodded her head, writing something on the clipboard she now held in her hands. “Thank you, Mr. Min. We’re going to continue to monitor her, but her vitals are looking good, and there are no outward signs of brain damage right now. This could change however, as once she’s awake and alert, her doctor will want to do another brain scan.”

Yoongi nodded, just glad you were alive and breathing. 

“She’s not awake yet, the sedatives are still wearing off, but they’ve removed intubation and she is resting,” Yoongi winced at this fact, “would you like to see her?”

Yoongi’s eyes finally met the small nurses after staring daggers into the hospital linoleum. “I can see her?”

The woman gave a short nod and a gentle smile. “Of course! I can tell you care a lot about her. She’s very lucky to have you, sir.”

Yoongi nodded, looking down again. He didn’t feel very lucky, and didn’t think you would either right about now. 

“Follow me.” 

Yoongi followed the lady back through two industrial looking double doors, past sterile smelling hospital rooms and nurses and doctors moving rapidly up and down the corridors. Yoongi always hated hospitals, they reminded him of when his Grandmother passed away. He was so hyper focused on walking, he barely heard her when the nurse spoke again. “Before you go in, it’s best to take a moment to prepare yourself for what you’re going to see. It can be really hard to see a loved one in this state, so I’m here to answer any questions you may have,” she advised kindly as she came to a stop outside your room. Yoongi’s stomach fluttered at the mention of you being his ‘loved one’ and he mentally scolded himself. This nurse had no idea about the strange dynamic that is your relationship, if you could even call it that. 

Yoongi shook his head lightly, indicating he didn’t have any questions, at least, not for her. She gave one nod of her head, before clutching her clipboard to her chest. “I wish you the best, Mr. Min.” She said as she walked away. 

Yoongi took a deep breath through his mouth, exhaling slowly through his nose. He wasn’t prepared to see you in a hospital bed, but his excitement at seeing you alive was overtaking his senses right now. He slowly pushed the door to your room open, taking two hesitant steps through the threshold. His eyes immediately scanned the room, falling over your fragile, but breathing, body. As Yoongi quietly shut the door behind him, tears automatically started falling down his cheeks, silent sobs hitting his chest. He swiftly closed the gap between him and your bed, lip trembling, and took your cold, limp hand in his. He didn’t even bother pulling one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs with him, he just knelt on the floors, kneecaps be damned. He wasn’t sure how he was going to react when he saw you, he knew he would feel relief at knowing you were alive, but he didn’t expect to be quite so overcome with emotion. He definitely didn’t expect to feel intense happiness at the fact that he could hold you again. You had no idea the effect you had on him, and in only four short days. 

You laid on the hospital bed, dressed in one of those white, scratchy hospital gowns. Your eyes were even more sunken in than Yoongi remembers, skin sallow and taking on an almost sickly green color. Your hair was a mess, and Yoongi inwardly cursed the nurses for not at least brushing through it for you. Your arm was bruised purple and green at the crease of your elbow where your IV now sat. Your bottom half was covered by a thick blue blanket that looked a little itchy. Yoongi grabbed the top of the blanket with his free hand, moving it up farther on your body, tucking it lightly at your far side. Even in this state, you looked beautiful to him. Despite what has taken place over the last 12 or so hours, he was still enraptured by you and your beauty. 

Yoongi brought your bony hand up to his face, placing a soft, lingering kiss on the back of your knuckles. His head hurt, his eyes hurt, and his heart hurt. He didn’t have any more tears to cry, just silent sobs as he laid his forehead on your cold hand. 

Eventually Jungkook made his way up to your room, after being informed by the same brunette nurse that Yoongi was up there with you. He knocked softly on the door twice before opening it and entering. Yoongi was still knelt on the floor by your bed. Jungkook sighed and knelt down next to him

“She’s gonna be ok man,” Jungkook started, placing his hand on Yoongi’s back, “you should rest before she wakes up.”

Yoongi nodded, allowing Jungkook to pull a chair over for him before sitting down in it, never letting go of your hand. Jungkook sat in a chair a little bit behind Yoongi, making sure the older man knew he was there for support. They sat in silence like that for a while before Yoongi started to feel drowsy, eyes falling shut and drifting into a fitful sleep, forehead pressed to your bed. 

You slowly blinked your eyes open, squinting from the bright lights above you. An intense smell of bleach hit your nose causing your throat to constrict and burn. The burn. It was still there, but dulled from last time you remember. You closed your eyes again, squeezing them shut in pain as you tried to swallow, causing a small, yet hoarse, whimper to emit from your throat. 

Immediately, Yoongi’s head shot up at the sound of you. He started rubbing soothing circles onto the back of your hand, still clutched in his. “YN,” he whispered, standing from his seated position, moving even closer to your body.

You blinked your eyes a few times before looking up at Yoongi. He could see the pain in your eyes with the way they were scrunched up cutely at the sides. You brought your hand to your throat subconsciously and Yoongi knew what you meant. He grabbed the pitcher of water from your bedside table and poured you a cup, passing it to you. You silently thanked him with a nod of your head and started gulping down the water. Yoongi sat back down and watched you carefully. He heard Jungkook stand from behind him, dimmed the lights, having watched how you were squinting your eyes, and quietly left the room to give you both some privacy. Yoongi reminded himself to thank him profusely later, but right now his focus was on you.

You finished the cup of water and Yoongi took the cup from your hand and set it back on the side table. “YN,” he whispered again, bringing his hand up to brush against your cheek, “you’re ok.” He smiled at you, genuinely smiled for the first time since last night. He was so beyond happy to see you, alive and well in front of him. 

You had a million thoughts running through your mind right now, and Yoongi could tell by the panic stricken look flashing in your eyes. He soothingly rubbed his hand up and down your arm that was free of any tubes. “It’s ok, love,” he comforted, “I’m here to listen if you want to talk, or if you don’t I’ll sit here with you in silence. You don’t need to explain yourself. I’m just happy you’re ok.” He smiled at you, and even though you could feel the love radiating off of him, you felt sick to your stomach.

How could Yoongi still want to be by your side after what you had just done? How could he still want to comfort you when you were like this? You had a lot of questions, but there was one at the forefront of your mind. “Did you find me?” Your voice was rough from the intubation tube, which you guessed was the reason for your throat burning before. You looked away from Yoongi when you asked, not being brave enough to meet his eye, in fear of what you might find. 

He sighed lightly, almost inaudibly. “Yes.” You could tell without even looking at him that he was choking up, on the verge of tears. At the sound of his voice, you let your own hot tears roll down your cheeks, not bothering to wipe them away. A large hand immediately came up to wipe them away. “Hey, don’t cry, love,” he whispered, “I’m not mad, I’m not upset. These are happy tears, I promise.”

“I’m not happy,” you sniffled, “I’m sorry, Yoongi, that you had to see me like that.” You brought your own hand up to your face to wipe at your nose. 

“YN, I don’t care about that. I swear to you, all that matters to me now is you. I want to keep you safe, want to help you fight this battle so you don’t have to do it alone. You have me, all of me.” His words were so sincere, so loving, you spared a glance at him, and the moment your eyes met, you knew he meant everything that he said. Even in your current state, he sent butterflies erupting throughout your stomach. You took in his face for a moment, red and puffy, tear stained cheeks, but his eyes were happy. You felt safe with him. You knew you’d have to talk about what all this means later, explain to him why you did what you did, but for now, you just wanted to be in his presence. 

Yoongi sat with you for the next few hours, texting Jungkook to head home to his family, apologizing profusely for keeping him away on Christmas. You didn’t talk much, just offering sweet smiles when Yoongi would check to make sure you were doing ok. Like the nurse told Yoongi earlier, your doctor came in to take you for a brain scan and to run some other tests. Yoongi waited patiently in your room while you were being tested. 

When you returned, the doctor checked your vitals again, before letting you both know that he would be back in the morning to run some more tests, and give you the results of the brain scan. You both thanked him quietly before he wished you a merry Christmas, and took his leave.

Alone again with Yoongi, you felt a calm aura wash over you. “Thank you,” you whispered quietly into the dim room, “I’m sorry I ruined your Christmas,” you said with a slight frown.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Yoongi assured, walking over to your bed and sitting next to you, “There is no place I’d rather be than by your side.”

Just as Yoongi finished his sentence, a violent buzzing resounded through the room. Yoongi’s eyes went wide as dinner plates as he realized your phone was still in his pocket. Hesitantly, he brought it out of the back of his jeans and showed you what was on the screen.

You flinched when you saw your cell phone. You knew you’d have to confront Namjoon and Yoongi about what happened sooner or later, but you were really hoping it would be the latter. You reached out for your phone, pushing the red decline button. Yoongi looked at you with an unreadable expression as you let the phone fall to your side onto the bed.

You sighed, looking at Yoongi, lips pursed. “Go ahead, you can ask me,” you offered, rubbing a hand down the front of your face.

Yoongi looked sheepishly at you. Of course he wanted to know what happened, but he didn’t want to push you to tell him or to relive whatever it was that pushed you that far in the first place. His curiosity got the better of him as he chewed his lip raw. “What happened?” His voice was barely a whisper, the beeping of the equipment in the hospital room almost enough to mask it. 

“Namjoon was calling me, I guess, while we were having dinner last night,” you wrung your hands together, trying to warm them up in the frigid temperature in your room, “I didn’t think to check my phone until you walked me home.” Yoongi reached over to stop your ministrations, cupping both your hands in his and blowing warm breath between them. You smiled at his thoughtful actions before continuing, “He was drunk. I don’t think he even realized what he said, but - but he left me a voicemail,” your voice was getting quieter the further into your story you got, “he said he wished I had succeeded three years ago, that he wished he never saved me.”

Yoongi was seething. He had his suspicions that this was your brother’s doing, but he didn’t expect those words to fall from your mouth. He gripped your hands just a little bit together as he brought the back of them to his lips, forcing his emotions down. Yoongi bit down hard on his tongue to stop him from saying exactly what he wanted to say about your idiot brother, but he knew that you were still hurting, still recovering, and didn’t want to upset you or hurt you even further.

“YN - I’m sure he was just drunk,” he starts, before he realizes that the man who calls himself your brother has no excuse for what he said to you, “that does not, and I mean does not, give him an excuse to treat you like that, but you literally haven’t heard from him in what? Three years?” You nodded your head, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. Yoongi gently reached up and thumbed at your bottom lip, pulling it away from the assault of your teeth before continuing, “He’s called you over a hundred times since last night. I haven’t answered, he doesn’t know you’re here, as far as I know. If you don’t want to tell him, don’t want to talk to him, I will support you, but I also think it would be good for you to get closure from him. Even if that means cutting him out of your life.” 

You nodded slowly, taking in Yoongi’s words. You knew he was right. You didn’t want to go through life wondering if Namjoon really meant what he said, if he was sorry, if he still thinks about you. You decided to table the conversation for now. It’s not doing anyone any good stressing yourself out about it. First, you needed to have a serious conversation with Yoongi about what exactly was happening between the two of you. You didn’t want there to be any questions when you went home from the hospital, wanted to feel secure in the choices you were about to make.

“Yoongi?”

“Yes, darling.” Yoongi said cooly, still holding onto your hands. He was doing that a lot today and you definitely weren’t complaining. 

“What is this?” You pulled one of your hands gently from Yoongi’s grasp and gestured half-assedly between you both. 

Yoongi’s brow furrowed momentarily before smoothing out and giving you a soft look. “YN - I - I don’t know what you’re expecting,” here it goes, you thought, he’s going to reject you. He’s going to say that this was all too much and he’s only here because he feels guilty. “I really didn’t want to do this here, while you’re lying in a hospital bed,” he scoffs lightly, shaking his head. Your heart drops. Is he really going to leave like this? You bite both your lips between your teeth, looking away to brace yourself for what he’s about to say. “YN I think I’m in love with you.”

Your head shoots up so quickly you think you might have whiplash. Yoongi giggles quietly at your reaction, gummy smile on display for a moment. “W-what?” Is the dignified answer you sputter out. 

This time, Yoongi is looking you directly in the eyes when he says, “I love you, YN. I know it’s only been a few days, but I already can’t imagine my life without you in it. I don’t care what hurdles we have to get past, I don’t care about all your baggage that you seem to think will scare me away, and I definitely don’t care that you seem to think you aren’t worth it. I know you’re worth it, you’re worth all of it.” Before you could form a response, Yoongi is standing up from his chair, wrapping both arms around your small frame and bending a little awkwardly to pull you up slightly to a sitting position. A beat passes before you realize he’s trying to hug you, and you quickly wrap your arms around his neck the best you can while  attached to all these wires and tubes. Yoongi nuzzled into your hair, which you think is probably a horrid mess right now, and whispered close to your ear, “They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, right? I thought I lost you forever, that’s the biggest absence I could’ve felt from you. It made me realize I never want to let you go again.” He pulls back slightly, placing the softest kiss to your cheek before placing his forehead against yours.

You looked up at him through your now wet lashes, “I love you too, Yoongi. You make me feel safe. Something I haven’t felt in a really long time.” You choked out the last couple of words, tears making their way down your cheeks now. “I’m so sorry I put you through this, I’m so sorry I broke my promise.” You were sobbing again. 

“Shh,” he murmured against your hair, “It’s okay, love. You’re here now, and that’s all that matters. Whatever we need to work through, we will, together.”

“Thank you Yoongi, I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, YN. I just want to see you continue living your life.”

You sniffled, pulling back from Yoongi to give him a smile. “Merry Christmas, Yoongi.”

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

You were stuck in the hospital for the mandatory three days after Christmas. During that time they ran multiple tests to make sure you didn’t have any lasting damage and you met with two different therapists. Sadly, you knew these procedures, as this wasn’t the first time you went through them. The second therapist you met with suggested putting you on a different antidepressant from the ones you had before, along with an anti-anxiety medication for at least the next few weeks. 

Yoongi stayed with you almost the entire time (aside from going home to check on Mochi and to shower), sleeping on two chairs pushed together, despite you inviting him up on your bed multiple times. He refused on the grounds of ‘I don’t want my first time in bed with you to be at the hospital’, to which you rolled your eyes at. Yoongi had really lightened your mood over the last few days, mixed with the new medications, you were almost feeling back to your ‘normal’ self, or at least as normal as you could be. 

You and Yoongi had decided that it would be best if you took at least one more week off work to recover, and Yoongi was quick to offer to stay with you at your cabin, or have you come stay with him at his, enticing you with Mochi cuddles. Eventually you decided on alternating between the two houses to give you a little reprieve from the memories your cabin will inevitably bring back. Neither of you were dim, you both knew being at the hospital was like a vacation away from your demons. When you stepped foot back in that house, you would likely struggle, at least a little bit more than you are here. 

Being on bed rest for a few days, on top of having your stomach pumped, really did a number on your muscles. You were consistently sore, and were almost too weak to walk on your own. Yoongi was quite the gentleman, massaging your calves when they hurt and walking you to the bathroom when you needed it. You felt lucky to be loved by him. You wanted to be able to show him just how much you loved him in return, and made a mental note to do just that once you recovered. 

On your second night in the hospital, a man by the name of Jungkook came by to check on you and Yoongi. He introduced himself as Yoongi’s best friend and you learned he was married with a baby due in just a few weeks. He was kind and handsome, just like Yoongi. You also found out that he had stayed with Yoongi at the hospital, on Christmas, while you were unconscious. You profusely apologized to the man, getting into a bowing battle while you were sitting on the edge of your bed, while he profusely refused your apologies. You decided you really liked Jungkook and his aloof personality and were glad Yoongi had such a great friend to be there for him. 

You were finally being released on December 28th in Yoongi’s care, something he wasn’t going to take lightly. The hospital made him sign paperwork saying he would keep an eye on you. While it made you feel slightly like a teenager again, you couldn’t deny that you probably needed it, and were just thankful it was Yoongi who would be the one watching over you. 

It was nearing 7 in the evening, well past dark, when Yoongi wheeled your wheelchair, another accommodation you tried to fight, out to his car. He helped you into the front seat, making sure you were comfortable before strapping you in with the seatbelt, closing the door, and jogging to the driver’s side. 

Yoongi clapped his hands together and rubbed them furiously together for a moment. “It’s freezing! Let’s get you home, baby!” He flashed you a gummy smile before starting the engine. 

You giggled at his antics and felt your cheeks heat at the pet name, covering your mouth with your hand. You were feeling pretty good on the drive home, Yoongi looking over at you every couple of minutes to make sure you were alright. You were curled up in the passenger seat watching the trees zoom past the window. Sometime during the drive, Yoongi reached over across the center console and placed his large hand over your knee. You glanced over at him, softly smiling at eachother, and placed your much smaller hand over his, intertwining your fingers together. 

The drive wasn’t long, maybe twenty minutes, but in those twenty minutes, you grew excited. Excited to spend time with Yoongi tonight, to lay with each other in your bed, excited for the future for what felt like the first time since your parents passed. You pictured your parents for a moment, a fleeting thought, what would they think of Yoongi? You wish they could’ve met him. You’re sure your mom would have loved his kind nature and his ability to cook. Your dad would have liked that he had good manners and was always a gentleman. You turned your head to look out the window, smiling sadly to yourself. You were sad they were gone, of course, but you were also happy in this moment and you didn’t want your memories to subtract from that. 

“Almost home, love.” Yoongi said, squeezing your knee. You didn’t realize you had just about dozed off, head leaning on the window. You pulled your hand away from Yoongi’s to rub at your eyes briefly. “Uh, YN?” You looked up at Yoongi in confusion, his tone almost panicked. “Whose car is that?”

Your eyes immediately found the car in question, a sleek, black sports car, parked behind your crappy silver sedan in the cabin’s driveway. It only took you a moment to realize by the license plate ‘RKIVE’ that it was your brother’s. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat as Yoongi turned into his own driveway. He could tell by your reaction, you didn’t want to see the owner of that car. 

“My brother.”

It took you a good thirty minutes of pacing Yoongi’s kitchen and countless encouragements from the man himself to build up the courage to go over to your cabin. You had so many questions; why was Namjoon here? How long had he been there? How did he get in? You know you had the locks changed in the last three years since the incident. What confused you the most though, is the fact that his calls completely stopped after Christmas day. You had assumed that he had given up trying to contact you and went on with his life, but apparently he had different plans.

“Are you ready baby?” Yoongi asked you from the kitchen, standing up from pouring food into Mochi’s bowl.

“I really don’t know, Yoongi,” you twisted your wrist in your other hand, a nervous habit, “What if he’s here to yell at me again?”

“YN, I really don’t think he blew your phone up for a day and then drove all the way out here to yell at you,” Yoongi started, rubbing his hands up and down your arms, “and besides, if he is here to yell at you, I’ll be right by your side the entire time. You know I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you, right?”

You nodded, letting out a deep sigh. Yoongi smiled at you and pinched your chin between his thumb and his forefinger, brought your face up to meet his gently, and placed a kiss on your forehead. Your eyes fell shut and you felt all the tension in your body flow out of your body at once. This man really did have an effect on you, and you were thankful for that in this moment. “It’s now or never, I guess.”

You and Yoongi walked hand in hand over to your cabin, standing at your front door, you hesitated before unlocking it. Yoongi squeezed your hand as a silent gesture to let you know he was with you. You took a few cautious steps into the house, silently looking around the open living room. No sign of Joon yet.

As you stepped around the corner, you could hear faint rustling coming from one of the rooms. “Joon?” You called gently, probably not quite loud enough for anyone to hear. “Namjoon?” You called a little louder. The rustling stopped. Now you heard quick footsteps, loud clumsy footsteps that you could never mistake, heading in your direction. You stood half in front of Yoongi, hands still intertwined behind your back waiting for your brother to appear. 

Namjoon stumbled out of his old bedroom, looking not at all what you expected him to look like. He was wearing an old pair of black sweatpants and a faded t-shirt that you think once had your father’s college alumni printed on it. His light purple hair, that’s new, was disheveled and sticking out in every direction, looking like he had run his hand through it at least a thousand times. But what shocked you the most, was the pure panic in his eyes. As soon as his eyes met yours, the panic seemed to dissipate, though it didn’t completely disappear. He rushed over to you, placing both his large hands on the tops of your shoulders, startling you and causing you to bump into Yoongi behind you.

“YN - Oh my god, YN,” Namjoon started to sob, head dropping down onto your shoulder. You felt Yoongi let go of your hand and placed both of his hands on your waist, holding you steady against his chest. “Thank God you’re ok! Where the hell have you been!?” Namjoon was full on crying into your shoulder now, tears staining Yoongi’s sweatshirt he had let you wear home from the hospital. You were still pretty weak on your legs from the bedrest, so you started to wobble a bit from the pressure Namjoon was putting on you.

You started to bring your hand up to lightly push back from Namjoon to maintain your balance, bracing yourself against Yoongi. Namjoon looked at you with confusion in his eyes, before he glanced up seemingly noticing the blonde man behind you for the first time.

“Who the hell are you?” Namjoon demanded, though he didn’t sound very threatening with tears flowing down his face. 

“I-” Yoongi started, but you cut him off, feeling suddenly defensive of the man you love. 

“My boyfriend,” you started, causing Yoongi’s eyes to widen slightly. It’s not that he didn’t like the new title, he was just shocked, hearing it come from you. “Why are you here, Joon?”

“Boy- boyfriend? YN what is going on? Is that where you’ve been? Sleeping around with him?” You furrowed your brow, mouth dropping open. Was he drunk? 

“Are you fucking drunk again Namjoon?!” You started to raise your voice, attempting to pull away from Yoongi, but he wasn’t letting you move any further, worried for both you and your brother at this point. He’s never heard you raise your voice, and if he’s being honest, it’s rather intimidating.

“Yeah YN, I am! I drove 3 hours down to this God forsaken cabin last night to find my baby sister missing, nowhere to be found and a bottle of empty pills in the bathroom. How the fuck do you think I was supposed to deal with this?!” He was near screaming at this point. 

You raised your finger up and pointed it right at Namjoon’s chest, “Oh, I don’t know Joon, maybe you could have actually gone out and looked for me instead of sitting on your ass and drinking yourself to death!” Yoongi had a tight grip on your upper arms at this point, making sure you didn’t get physical. He was pretty sure your brother wouldn’t hurt you, but he couldn’t say the same for you. 

Namjoon scoffed at you, taking a small step forward so your finger pushed into his firm chest. “I thought you were dead YN! I was fucking terrified I was going to find you out in that God damned lake, frozen to death. I- I-” he stuttered out, fresh tears building up at his lashes and anger dissipating, “I was scared. I didn’t want to find you out there again.”

Though Namjoon’s anger seemed to be lessening, yours was only building. “Scared? You were scared!? Why!? Because if you found me out there, you knew it would have been your fault?” You spit the last words at your brother, you knew it was low, but he literally cut you out of his life, what did you owe him?

You watched as Namjoon let the tears fall down his cheeks, biting at his trembling lower lip. “I’m so - so sorry YN,” he whimpered, actually whimpered. You don’t think you’ve ever heard your beast of an older brother whimper. “You have to under- understand that I didn’t mean what I said the other night. I listened to the voicemail a few hours after I left it and I- I was so worried when you weren’t answering your phone. I wanted to apologize, take it back, but I was scared it was too late. I even called the police the day after to ask if they- th-” he didn’t need to finish that sentence, you knew what he meant. If they found your body. You heard Yoongi inhale a sharp breath behind you, obviously affected by what Namjoon was trying to say. You nearly forgot he has been a witness to this whole scene. “They said they didn’t find… anyone. I tried to let it go, tried to let you ignore me, but I couldn’t. I had to come down here and see for myself.”

“Well, here I am. You can leave. Now,” you spat, turning around and walking towards your kitchen. “C’mon Yoongi,” you mumbled, taking Yoongi’s hand in yours. 

“YN - wait,” it wasn’t your brother’s voice that you expected to hear, but Yoongi’s. You stopped and turned around, staring at him like he grew two heads. He took a step closer to you, “You need closure, YN,” he whispered softly down at you. Your eyes softened at his ability to stay so calm and level headed throughout this entire ordeal. You blinked up at him a few times before nodding your head. 

Yoongi didn’t want to put you in a position you were uncomfortable with and he knew you didn’t want to look at your brother. Hell, he wanted to beat the shit out of Namjoon himself, but he knew you needed this. 

You took a few steps past Yoongi, stopping a few feet in front of your brother. Namjoon, who had previously been staring a hole through the carpet, met your eyes with his glistening ones. Yes, he said horrible things to you. Yes, he has treated you as if you don’t exist for the past three years. But, he’s still your brother, right? He’s quite literally the only family you have left in this world. With both your parents gone, grandparents long dead, and no other siblings, Joon was really all you had. Even though he may not deserve your forgiveness, don’t you owe it to yourself to try and patch up your relationship?

“Joon…” you trailed off, looking up at the ceiling attempting to stop the rush of tears stinging the backs of your eyes. You weren’t sure if you should tell him what happened over the last few days, since you last heard his voice. He was the reason you were in the hospital in the first place, but did you really want to make him feel the guilt for putting you there? You weren’t so sure. Your caring nature yelling at you internally to lie, to sugar coat things to spare your brother the pain. Before you could fight your internal battle, it was Namjoon who spoke first. 

“Can we talk about this, a little more privately maybe?” He questioned, his sour tone catching Yoongi’s attention. Yoongi has tried to stay quiet through all of this, hoping to let you hash it out on your own. It wasn’t his place, after all. He didn’t know your brother, and he believed you could handle yourself. But he wasn’t about to leave you alone with Namjoon, and he needed to make sure the other man knew that.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Yoongi started, folding his arms across his chest defensively, “She is in my care, after all.” He really didn’t want to play that card, unsure of how you would feel about it, but he really, really, needed Namjoon to know that he wasn’t going to budge. 

“What the hell do you mean she’s in ‘your care’?” Namjoon narrowed his eyes, shooting a questioning glare your way.

You let out a heavy sigh, briefly turning your body to give Yoongi an apologetic look. “I’ve been in the hospital, Joon. They only released me on the condition he stays with me, or vice versa.”

“Wh-what do you mean you were in the hospital?” His previous distraught look coming back, “Why didn’t you call me? I’m your family I should be the one-”

You cut him off before he could finish that statement, “Taking care of me? Namjoon, you left me at a hospital three years ago and haven’t so much as said ‘hello’ to me since then. What makes you think you have any right to even assume I would want you to care for me?” Namjoon at least had the decency to look ashamed of himself for the first time tonight.

“YN, I- I called that night, on Christmas Eve, to apologize,” he looked behind you at a glaring Yoongi before looking back at your equally enraged face, “I know, I know! I definitely didn’t do that in the voicemail that I left, ok I know,” he put his hand up as if to pacify you, “I had been drinking and I was thinking about you - in fact I - I think about you all the time. I’ve just been a terrified asshole who was too afraid you’d reject my apology. I had the courage that night and tried calling you a few times. When you didn’t answer I figured you hated me, and it set me off. I- I’m s-so sorry YN I never, ever meant to hurt you like this. I was so scared of losing you, I tried to distance myself from you, so if I did l-lose you, it wouldn’t hurt as bad as when we lost mom and dad.”

Your eyes softened minutely at his words, the fire in your eyes fleeting, but still there. “You’re fucking right you’ve been an asshole Joon,” you scoffed, “did you ever think about what I needed? How I felt? You distancing yourself from me was like having my entire family ripped away from me. You were all I had left.” Your last words were whispered, but your brother heard them loud and clear. 

Namjoon's long legs only needed two steps in your direction before you were chest to chest with him, his strong arms wrapping around your shoulders. To say you were shocked was an understatement. Regardless of how much you wanted to hate your brother right now, you couldn’t deny that it felt nice to be in his familiar arms again. He hasn’t hugged you in years, and you’re feeling lightheaded from all the physical contact you’ve had in the last week. It took you a moment to respond to his hug, slowly wrapping your weak arms around his middle. He could feel the way your small frame was beginning to shake, presuming you were weak from being in the hospital. It took him a second to realize you were sobbing in his arms.

Namjoon nuzzled his face into the side of your head, having to bend a significant amount to account for the height difference, and croaked, “I’m sorry YN. I’m so, so sorry. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but please, please let me be here for you. Let me be your shoulder to cry on, be the one you confide in again.” He sniffled, rubbing his cheek against the top of your head. “I’ll stay by your side, I won't leave you, I promise.”

“I’ve missed you so much,” you blubbered out, soaking Namjoon’s shirt with your tears. He ran a hand soothingly up and down your back as he let his own silent tears fall. 

“I’ve missed you too baby sister.”

Yoongi had been a silent observer, staying back, allowing you both to have the space you needed to sort this out. At this point, he wore a small smile, arms still crossed over one another. He decided it was time for him to leave you both alone for a moment to catch up and talk things through a little further. He quietly slipped out of the living room with a plan to make some hot tea for you, briefly meeting Namjoon’s eyes which were silently thanking the older man.Yoongi gave a quick nod and turned to walk away. 

You and your brother spent the next few hours talking about everything on your living room couches. He stayed close, but not too close, to give you your own space, which you appreciated. Yoongi came back after a little while, hot tea and mugs in tow. He sat by your side, offering you silent support with a hand on your knee or shoulder. You were thankful for his presence. Even though you and Namjoon had talked some things out, you still felt a little awkward with him here. 

You told Namjoon about your job and how you haven’t left it yet, despite hating your boss for so long. You talked about your life in Busan and how you moved into a new apartment a couple years back. He told you about his studio, Rkive, in Seoul and how he’s been working with some pretty big names recently. He was hopeful that one of his songs was up for Song of the Year for some award show next month. You expressed how proud you were of him, finally having the chance to tell him. Most importantly, you talked about your brief stay at the rehab facility three years ago and your most recent stay in the hospital here. You both cried when you talked about your second attempt at your life. You hugged each other and Namjoon apologized profusely to you, which you graciously accepted.

After you had spilled all your collective tears and put everything out on the table, Namjoon turned his attention to the other man in the room, who up until this point, had been completely quiet. “Yoongi?”

Yoongi was taken by surprise at the sound of his name coming from Namjoon’s mouth. Eyebrows raised, he looked at the purple haired man sitting across from him, “Hmm?” 

“I wanted to thank you,” Namjoon said apologetically, “I don’t know you, but you saved my sister. She also seems to trust you,” he gave you a quick smile, showing off one of his dimples, “so I guess I should, too. But really, man, thank you. I don’t know what I would do if I lost her.” His gaze fell to his hands that were clasped in his lap.

Yoongi sat up a little straighter on the couch before answering, “You don’t have to thank me. I share the sentiment, I don’t know what I would do without her.” He smiled down at your, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, making you give him a small smile in return. “I really love her,” he said lovingly. He was talking to Namjoon, but he was staring into your eyes, getting lost in them for a moment. Namjoon noticed this, and couldn’t hide the smile that was spreading across his own face. That’s when he knew you were in good hands. He trusted Yoongi.

The next hour passed by quickly, sharing more stories amongst the three of you. Eventually Namjoon told you he had to get going, needing to be back in Seoul for a meeting tomorrow morning. He offered to cancel and stay the night, but you and Yoongi both told him he should go, and not to worry about you. If Yoongi wasn’t here, Namjoon would have definitely canceled, but he felt good about leaving you with him 

You wrapped your arms around your brother's neck, reaching up on your tiptoes. Namjoons arms wrapped around your middle, lifting you up slightly as he whispered in your ear, “I love you baby sister, please don’t forget that. I never stopped loving you.”

“I love you too Joon, don’t be a stranger.”

“I won't, trust me,” he let out a short laugh, devoid of any humor before setting you back down on your feet. He turned to look at Yoongi, before reaching out to shake his hand. Yoongi walked the short distance to grab his hand, only to be pulled into Namjoon’s frame for a hug. “Thank you again, Yoongi. I wish I could stay longer to get to know you a little better, but it was really nice to meet you.”

“I’m sure there will be more opportunities for us to meet,” Yoongi said, with an almost demanding tone. Namjoon took the warning for what it was, leaving you a little oblivious next to them. “Drive safe.”

Namjoon pulled away, giving you one final smile, before turning around to take his leave. You stood in the doorway, watching your brother start his car and pull out of the driveway. You knew you had plenty more unresolved issues and a lot more to discuss, but for now, your chest felt lighter at the aspect of having your brother back in your life. You were a little sad that he had to leave so quickly, when you felt like you just got him back, but were hopeful you would see him soon. 

Yoongi could feel your mood shift slightly, moving to wrap his arms around you from behind in a comforting back hug. You closed and locked the front door before turning around in his grasp. “I’m sorry,” you murmured into his chest. You didn’t see it, but Yoongi looked down at you in confusion.

“Why are you sorry, love?” He inquired, rubbing a hand up and down your spine.

“I’m sorry you had to sit here all night and listen to me cry,” you began, “I’m also sorry you had to meet my brother under such circumstances.”

“Don’t be sorry, YN. I’m so happy you were able to see Namjoon again and talk about things. I know it can be hard to talk about these things, and I know it must be hard to let him back into your life suddenly, but I know it will be helpful to you in the long run. I only want you to be happy, love.”

You look up at Yoongi in complete awe. How was this man in love with you? A broken shell of a person, with her weights worth of baggage. What did you do to deserve him? The literal epitome of perfection.

“Don’t thank me,” Yoongi lightly scolded, a smile on his face. “I can practically hear your thoughts right now.”

You scoffed, mock offended, putting your hands on his chest to playfully pull away. He wasn’t having it though, and pulled you back into him, rocking you both back and forth gently. “Oh no you don’t, you’re mine tonight,” you know he meant it in a playful way, but it did things to you that you didn’t want to admit to yourself right now, “I told you I wanted to lay with you properly and I’ve been waiting way too long to finally do that.”

“Let’s go to bed,” you began, taking Yoongi’s hand in your, walking down the hallway towards your bedroom. 

“Sounds like a great plan,” Yoongi said, following after you obediently. 

After you and Yoongi both got changed (Yoongi having to run home to grab some things, and also grab a very unamused cat), you kneeled in the corner of your room playing with Mochi, who lay in his cat bed that Yoongi also brought over. 

Yoongi was laying back on your pink sheets, arms crossed behind his head, watching you in amusement. “He really likes you, you know.”

You looked over your shoulder with a toothy smile on your face. Yoongi very nearly melted into your mattress at the sight. “You think so?” Yoongi nodded as you turned back around to face the Calico in front of you. “Well, I really like him too,” you cooed at the cat in question as he arched his back into your pets. After you had your fill of cuddles, you slowly stood up from your crouching position, causing Mochi to mewl.

Yoongi let out a loud laugh from his spot on your bed. “Yeah, I would say he definitely likes you.”

You laughed along with Yoongi while turning the lamp on your side table off. Yoongi scooted over on the bed to make room for you, pulling the pink and white comforter back. You gladly took your spot on the bed, rolling on your side to face Yoongi. To say you were nervous was a big understatement. “I’m gonna miss him when I go back to Busan,” you whispered sadly. 

“I’m glad my cat made such a big impact on you,” Yoongi said dryly, deadpanning in your direction.

You giggled quietly and shushed him. “Of course I’m gonna miss you too, Yoongi. I thought that was a given.”

“I mean, it’s still nice to hear,” he gently smiled down at you before draping one arm over your side, placing his warm hand on your lower back. He nudged your back a little, signaling you to move closer, to which you obliged. “You know, you don’t have to go back,” Yoongi whispered, hopefully. 

“Yoongs, I have to,” Yoongi smiled his signature gummy smile at the nickname making you stifle a laugh, “my job is there, I have an apartment there. I can’t just leave.”

“Is this cabin paid off?” Yoongi asked abruptly, before you could continue making excuses.

“Yes…” you trailed off hesitantly. 

“Then you could leave your lease in Busan, and move to the cabin. I know you love your job, but there is an animal shelter here. It’s where I got Mochi from,” the cat meowed softly in the corner, making you smile again, “I could put in a good word for you.”

Yoongi was so thoughtful. I definitely don’t deserve this man, you thought to yourself. Yoongi chuckled and raised his hand to brush a strand of hair over your shoulder. “Did I just say that outloud?” You asked, mortified for Yoongi’s answer.

He just nodded, still giggling. “YN you deserve the world, and I will work every day to make sure you believe that.” 

Your cheeks were hot, but your heart was full at his words. This beautiful man in front of you wanted to give you the world, wanted to make sure you never wanted for more in your life. Who were you to turn down such an offer? What did you have to lose anyways? A shitty paycheck and an even shitter apartment. That’s what.

“Okay.” You state simply.

“Okay?” Yoongi perked up, lifting his head a bit to stare at you. It was dark, but there was enough moonlight shining through your window that you could see the way his eyes lit up at your words. You smiled a bright smile at him, nodding your head aggressively. “Do you mean that?” Now he was sporting a smile to match your own.

“Yes, Yoongi. I’ll do it. I want to do it. I’m ready.” You smiled, because you were. You don’t think you’ve ever spoken truer words. You were ready. Ready to put Busan behind you, ready to start a new life with Yoongi. 

“I love you YN,” Yoongi said seriously, searching your eyes for any bit of hesitance, to which he found none, “I mean it, love.” He looked down to your pink lips, and back up at your eyes. 

Your breath caught in your throat, the feeling of butterflies suffocating your lungs was a good one for once. You nibbled on your bottom lip and exhaled shakily. Yoongi grunted, a sound you realized you found incredibly sexy and wanted to commit to memory for a rainy day. He was staring at you intensely, silently asking for permission, which you granted with a quick nod of your head.

Yoongi’s lips crashed onto yours with an intensity you’ve never felt before. The flutter in your chest only increased as his soft lips moved against yours. All you could feel, taste, smell, was Yoongi. You inhaled his citrus-y scent, letting it surround you and he brought his free hand up to your burning cheek while his other caressed your side gently. He tasted better than you could have ever imagined, a little minty, and you were immediately hooked. His kiss was like the nicotine you craved from your cigarettes, your new addiction. Your lips moved together synchronously for a few minutes before both of your lungs burned for oxygen and you reluctantly pulled away. 

Yoongi held your face in his hands like fragile China, reveling in this moment here with you, your face illuminated by the moon shining through your window. He saw galaxies in your lust filled eyes, the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen.

“Thank you, YN,” Yoongi whispered breathlessly, mere centimeters from your lips.

“For what?” You asked, just as breathless, chest heaving.

“For giving me one more day.”

© aliendes | copyright 2020

[hearthandhomemagick]

Cottage Witch Journal Entry

I have a longing for Tennessee. 

I have a pure, unadulterated and wild attraction to the Tennessee Mountains. This is a dream I’ve had, and a yearning I’ve felt, for years. A need to be hidden deep in the mountains in a tiny cottage/cabin of sorts. I’m sure this is an affinity very popular in mainstream culture today, and all I can think of when I hear people say they want a cottage or cabin in the mountains is, “How the Hell does everyone expect to FIT on these mountains?!” But, this is my Shadow Self, the over realistic and overthinking side of myself. And I easily get discouraged from my own wants thinking of others wants. 

This is a side of me to notice in myself. I need to be able to move past thoughts of, “If everyone wants it, I’ll never have it.” and move forward with thoughts of, “This is something I want for myself, and I deserve to work hard for it.” And that’s a goal I have with myself. 

You see, this post isn’t just about my want to be in Tennessee in the woods, it’s much deeper than that I feel. It’s about improvement and wanting to grow. 

I bring up Tennessee because that is not a goal I can easily obtain within a couple of weeks or even a month. But, it is something I want to build up to obtaining. Something I want to do right so that everything is exactly as it needs to be. And I can’t fully accomplish this until I accomplish other goals that take precedent first. For Example, my physical health.

As a witch, I truly believe in loving every part of yourself, the good and the bad. The exciting and the terrifying. The understood and the neglected. Part of this acceptance process is learning what is and is not acceptable for my body. Now, I have struggled with my weight and how I see myself since I was a child. I remember a little boy seeing my tummy in a bathing suit in 1st grade and him telling me I was fat and that his dad said fat girls were ugly. Comments like this, stares and whispers were constant when in regards to my weight. It felt like an overwhelming amount of attention was directed at the way I looked, even if no one was looking at me I felt as though everyone was thinking about it. Over the years, this mental state took a tole on a lot more than I expected, even affecting me today with my Significant Other. The consistent attention to my own weight pulled me into depression, our of depression, into anxiety and out of anxiety. What I mean is I had an up and down relationship with my tummy. 

I felt abandoned most days. I would get this idea that I was too much and not enough all at once. A gentle and cooing tone from my toxic thoughts led to a lot of issues and concerns for me and my health. Some days, I would read something that made me feel as though I was a Queen. A bad bitch lurking in this cruel world and taking it by the throat to stare it in the eyes and say, “I love my body fat.” 

The sad part is your heart, mind and body know when you are lying to it. I didn’t love my body. Not in those confident moments and not in those depressed moments. I was locked away in a cage in my mind that gave me two illusions to choose from, while hiding my third option under the rug. I neglected my feelings because I didn’t want to experience them. I neglected my health because I didn’t want to deal with it. And I neglected my body because I hated it. 

Reality here is that this is the only fucking body I have. Do you understand that? Let me repeat this so maybe you can understand how harsh of a reality this was to me. 

I am on this Earth for goodness knows how long. 50 years, 20 years, 72 days. I don’t know, and no one does. I was literally forced into owning this body, whether I like it or not, it is mine. I can move houses, I can get a new car, I can get a new job. I cannot get a new body. 

I heard this in High School and started what I called my weight loss journey. I lost maybe 20 pounds while attending a workout-boot camp of sorts and trying to maintain a healthy diet. That sentence resonated so much with me that I repeated it every day to myself. My motivation was on point. Then, I stopped going. There are multiple reasons why I stopped, but none of them are rightful excuses.

I just stopped. 

Now, during those days I had lost weight, I was starting to gain confidence in myself and was attempting to genuinely look out for my health. I had more energy and felt amazing! But like I said, I had stopped for terrible reasons. 

Fast-forward to college and you will find a very anxiety filled, sleep deprived and mentally exhausted Carly. Some nights I wouldn’t sleep but for 4-5 hours. Other nights I didn’t sleep at all. I believe my stay up streak was 3, going on 4 nights. All due to homework. My coping technique has always been eating food, too. So when you have a sleep deprived student settled next to a 24/7 pizza joint with half baked cookies, you gain 30-40 pounds. 

At 245 Pounds, I was at my heaviest. This weight gain came on as my roommates were saying I was fat, stupid and were making me question myself frequently. Self hate festers among others who don’t value your worth, remember that. So, through those years of college I weighed an uncomfortable amount of weight that made my body start shutting down physically. 

Mental Health had a lot to do with my physical health, here as well. When I was in a really bad place, I would stop moving completely and just sit still. If I had a terrible feeling, I’d cook something to make myself feel better or would just grab a processed, quick snack. It was a pattern of mine. I’d get just enough motivation to do one or two things, and then I’d stop all together and feel as though that was enough for a few weeks. 

Eventually, when I was done with college, I started back on that rollercoaster of healthy and unhealthy. I’d lose 5 pounds, then gain 7 pounds right back. I started detail critiquing myself and stressing myself out. My weight never could get under control, and I couldn’t break the 200 mark to save my life. I would see pictures and videos of myself and feel as though I had eaten an entire buffet. Not too long after getting with my S/O and starting my job as a Sexual Violence Outreach Advocate, I got sick.

It started as a birthday dinner at a Korean Barbecue in 2019. I was with my two best friends at the time and having a blast. We all ate the same food, but when I woke up the following morning I was throwing up everything in my tummy. 

The throwing up went on for 4 days before I was taken to the hospital, only for them to release me saying it was virus. My personal doctor couldn’t figure out what was wrong and it eventually became an everyday thing. I would wake up between 3-6 in the morning, go to the bathroom and be sick for hours before pulling myself together to make it to work. 

Weeks turned into months, and months turned into a year. 

I lost 50 pounds from this thing that no doctor could seem to figure out. I got x-rays and everything, but nothing and no one could tell me exactly what was going on with me. I couldn’t eat anything friend, only raw fruits and veggies, or broth. I only drank water and ginger based drinks, and could not for the life of me stop what was going on with my body. Many doctors tried to pass it as a virus, stomach ulcers, GURD, or even Heart Burn (?). None of them were right. 

After a long time, my mom finally confessed that every woman in our family has Endometriosis. If you don’t know what this is, it is the build up of scar tissue on the outside of your uterus. This leads to nausea, ovarian cysts (which they found on me in x-rays) and sub or infertility. No doctor can diagnose it, either, unless you have a surgery to see if there is scarring. So for many, suffering on your own is easier than seeing a doctor. 

I discussed this with my doctor, and it was as if a light flashed in her brain. This is a disease she cannot say I have, but can say it sounds very much like that. It is hereditary and once you have it, you have it for good.

After this information entered my line of though, I decided the stress from my job was too much for too little pay, and chose to leave. Leading up to my leaving the job, I was sick almost every second of every day. The moment I left, I felt better.

I still feel pain in my ovary area, but because I don’t have the money to see a doctor, and can control my pains with eating habits and physical influence, I choose to work through it alone. 

I said ALL THAT BACKGROUND BULLSHIT JUST TO SAY THIS!!!!!

This is the part that marks my new journey. It is the Journey to Strength and Well Being. The Journey to Feeling Good. The Journey the Choosing my happiness over anything else. And the Journey to choosing the health of my body over my insecurities.

I wrote this because a couple of days ago I had a very graphic and vivid dream about my boyfriend falling in love with the woman I wanted to be. In other words, I seen him with a woman who literally presented all of my insecurities to me. Small, lithe and dainty, gentle and calming, and everything I wasn’t. She was beautiful. And he seen this, and did things for her that he never did for me. I woke up almost in tears, because my emotions were raw, but I had no idea that my insecurities were still very deeply rooted. 

I pondered over the last few days of this dream. What it could mean, what I should do, how I should feel and I have finally come to a conclusion.

This dream is a depiction of my fears. My brain was saying, “You need to address this shit right now.” and did it in the most face slap kind of way I could think. 

I still, even after learning to love myself genuinely, have image issues that need to be nurtured and tended to before I can move forward in my life.

So, I’m making 1-3 goals every month that are attainable and reachable. This will be a brick road to my obtaining that cottage/cabin in the Tennessee Mountains. 

This months Goals start today! 

GOAL 1 -  Learn to do a split, find a healthy yoga sequence, be able to do 15 pushups, & 30 Squats by the end of December. 

GOAL 2 - Make a conscious effort to what you eat/making a new dish once a week to try.

GOAL 3 - Save $100.

This is a process, and I am only human. I don’t want to fall back into the habits of toxic mentality. I don’t want to neglect myself or how I feel and I don’t want to lose myself in to the world in the process of searching for freedom from myself. 

I expect myself to exude self control, self love, and empowerment. I expect to expect better from and for myself, and I expect to accomplish my goals.

I manifest it here, I can do a split. I have a healthy maintainable yoga sequence that I have committed to growing expanding and changing. I can do 15 push ups and 30 squats. I have 100 dollars saved up already and make concious decisions that better my health rather than hurt it. This is part of my lifstyle now! 

And it is for the better!

Thank you to anyone who read this through. These entries are more for my benefit and thought process, but appreciate anyone who recognizes it or even relates and wants to talk about it. It’s personal to me and means a lot. I intend on being on here more often to update my challenges and express how I use my witchcraft in the process of this Journey.

I love you all! Stay safe, warm and full to the brim! Later Witches! xx

[autistic-girl-academic]

Cookie Run OCs

gdi apparently one of the cookies in cr kingdom is named licorice cookie so screw it i’m biting the bullet and posting my half-baked (ha) oc ideas now even if some of them have already been taken anyway. sorry there’s no art bc i’m terrible with digital stuff and can’t access a scanner to upload my drawings. there are almost certainly going to be more to come later because this game refuses to leave my brain.

Black Licorice Cookie: The powerfully astringent flavor of black licorice certainly isn’t to everyone’s taste - and that’s just the way Black Licorice Cookie likes it! This daredevil of a Cookie loves nothing more than testing her limits, so she’s always on the lookout for something to get her adrenaline pumping. That doesn’t mean she isn’t without her sweet side, however, which comes out most strongly when protecting her precious little sister. Get between them at your own risk!

Red Licorice Cookie (Sibling): Don’t mess with my little sis if you know what’s good for you!

Mustard Cookie (Trust): Nobody else gets me like Mustard Cookie does!

Kiwi Cookie (Friendly): Hey, I’ve got an idea for some cool bike tricks!

Roll Cake Cookie (Friendly): Going for a ride in that road roller and smashing things is such a rush! WHOO!

Initially I had the mental image of her as a Cookie with a web design and a spider pet, but then Truffle Cookie came out, so now I pretty much picture her skill being that she runs a Ninja-Warrior-style obstacle course or something. Maybe her pet could be a black cat instead?

Red Licorice Cookie: Between the fruity fragrance of her signature red hair and her sweet, outgoing personality, it’s no surprise that this Cookie is so popular! Red Licorice Cookie is a champion at gymnastics with plenty of fans, and performing with the ribbon is where she shines the most. She and her older twin sister might be as different as night and day, but their bond is as strong as a thousand strands of licorice twisted together!

Black Licorice Cookie (Sibling): I’ve got the coolest big sis in the world!

Cheerleader Cookie (Trust): Cheerleader Cooke is my BFF!

Yoga Cookie (Friendly): She’s helped me train to be much more flexible for my routines.

Skating Queen Cookie (Admiration): I can’t believe I actually got her autograph!

At first I imagined her as being a sort of epic version of Cheerleader Cookie, performing double dutch with a few friends much like the cheer team. Her pet would be a charm bracelet.

Oatmeal Cookie: Every day at the crack of dawn, this dutiful cowgirl is already hard at work, keeping a watchful eye over her herd with the help of her trusty steed, Raisin. If even a single cow goes missing, Oatmeal Cookie won’t rest until she’s got them home safe and sound. The tricks she can perform with a lasso will certainly knock your socks off! And when the sun starts to set, you can hear the sound of her yodeling from far across the plains.

Peanut Butter Cookie (Family): I’m the luckiest Cookie alive to have such a beautiful gal as you...

Knight Cookie (Friendly): You sure know how to burn the breeze!

Adventurer Cookie (Friendly): Nice hat ya got there, pardner!

Space Doughnut (Tension): Hey, stop spookin’ my herd!

Her skill would probably involve dodging obstacles on her horse while catching some runaway cows, and her pet would be a cowbell.

Peanut Butter Cookie: There’s nothing better for a boost of energy than some delicious, nutritious peanut butter! And forest ranger Peanut Butter Cookie definitely needs that energy, as she spends every day traversing the woods to keep them safe. Whether she’s helping Cookies who have gotten lost find their way home or rescuing woodland critters from danger, you can always depend on Peanut Butter Cookie. She’s especially fond of younger Cookies and enjoys teaching them wilderness survival skills.

Oatmeal Cookie (Family): She and I pack each others’ lunches every day.

Pancake Cookie (Friendly): Be careful climbing trees for those Acorn Jellies, dear!

Cream Puff Cookie (Friendly): I’m sure you’ll get that spell right next time, hun.

Fig Cookie (Trust): They’re always eager for me to tell them stories.

Fire Spirit Cookie (Tension): You keep those flames away from the forest, you hear?

You can probably tell by now that I’ve put like 0 thought into any of my Cookie OC’s skills. Anyway, her pet would be a bear that she helped when it was a cub, who shows up to help her by smashing obstacles.

Coconut Cookie: The Tropical Soda Archipelago has a long history of telling stories through traditional dance. Coconut Cookie comes from a long line of those dancers, and Cookies will flock from every island to watch her perform. Crowned with a garland of bright yellow coconut blossoms, she moves with the utmost rhythm and grace. It’s said that she practices every day so that she can bring peace and good fortune to the islands.

Mango Cookie (Trust): My best friend since we were little - I remember his very first boat!

Ananas Dragon Cookie (Admiration): The Dragon honored my ancestors by praising their dances.

Soda Cookie (Friendly): Going for a ride on the waves is the best, isn’t it?

Squid Ink Cookie (Friendly): Poor little thing, there’s no need to be shy.

My first thought was for her to make a sort of bubble shield out of coconut oil, like Lemonade Cookie but without the magnetic effect (maybe slower energy drain instead?) - I’m still undecided about it though. Her pet would be a bunch of coconuts who make coconut milk potions. Also, I picture her being related to Artichoke Cookie, but he’s not in Ovenbreak...YET? (pls devsis)

Honeycomb Cookie: Out in a charming little cottage atop a hill lives Honeycomb Cookie - and her many hives of Jelly Bees. Years upon years of working with the bees has allowed her to understand them so well, it’s almost as if she talks to them! If you happen to arrive on her doorstep, you can be sure that she’ll treat you to some delicious tea sweetened with honey and send you on your way with a basket of homemade treats.

Herb Cookie (Family): My cute little grandson certainly inherited the family green thumb.

Spinach Cookie (Trust): Oh, how sweet of you to bring me a basket of vegetables, dearie!

Fairy Cookie (Friendly): Ah, you’re so small I mistook you for another bee.

Matcha Cookie (Friendly): A bit of a strange one, but it’s nice to have some laughter over tea.

Not sure what her skill would be, but I think her pet would be a queen Jelly Bee that grows from a baby to an adult as you collect more jellies.

Souffle Cookie: A chef famous for turning simple Jellies into extravagant and delicious meals. Though he can come off as strict and a bit intimidating, he truly does care about creating good food for every Cookie who comes to his restaurant. Souffle Cookie is quite the perfectionist, so if a recipe doesn’t come out as planned, he tends to sulk so badly that even his fluffy chef’s hat deflates! But it never lasts long before he throws himself back into his work with renewed passion.

Sparkling Cookie (Trust): My cooking and your juice is the ultimate combination!

Sandwich Cookie (Admiration): To create such simple but delicious meals...C’est magnifique!

Mala Sauce Cookie (Friendly): Just watch, I’ll create a meal more than spicy enough to satisfy you!

Dr. Wasabi Cookie (Tension): I am NEVER using your syrup as a ‘secret ingredient’ EVER again!

Again, not sure what his skill would be, but maybe his pet could be a spoon. Sous-chef Spoon?

Rainbow Sugar Cookie: Sugar Cookie was always painfully shy and never considered herself all that important. However, everything changed when she met Rainbow Puff, a creature who begged for her help in protecting the happiness of Cookies everywhere from the wicked Dark Puffs. Bestowed with a magical wand, she becomes Rainbow Sugar Cookie, chasing away darkness with prisms of joyous light! RAINBOW...BEAM!

Pink Choco Cookie (Trust): The two of us would make a perfect team!

Wind Archer Cookie (Admiration): Wow...what an amazing warrior...

Sandwich Cookie (Friendly): She makes the best toast as a snack on the way to school!

Dark Enchantress Cookie (Rival): I won’t let a villain like you make other Cookies suffer!

Pomegranate Cookie (Tension): Why are you helping the Darkness?

Originally her name was Glitter Cookie, but then Shining Glitter Cookie got announced. In any case, she’d pretty much be an epic version of Wind Archer Cookie, fighting a big ‘boss’ monster once enough little ones were defeated with her magic.

Jack-o-Lantern Cookie: Trick or treat! Wait, is it Halloween already? The answer doesn’t really matter to this young Cookie, who loves trick-or-treating so much that they never take their costume off! If you don’t have Jellies to give, then get ready for a mischievous trick! But if there’s one thing they love more than getting treats, it’s sharing them with friends, so don’t be shy and join in the fun!

Candy Corn Cookie (Trust): My bestest trick-or-treating buddy!

Devil Cookie (Admiration): WOW! What a great costume!

Apple Cookie (Friendly): Here, candy apples!

Onion Cookie (Friendly): Trick o- um, please don’t cry...

Vampire Cookie (Tension): Hey, don’t fall asleep when I’m trying to trick you!

I thought I was in the clear with this OC when we got Truffle Cookie for Halloween...but then Pumpkin Cookie was an NPC later, lol. At least the name was an easy change. Their skill would basically be like a slower version of Chestnut’s, where you go up to houses and trick-or-treat.

Candy Corn Cookie: This Cookie used to be a scarecrow who stood in the middle of a big field of candy corn. However, they wanted to travel the world, so one night they wished upon a star...and miraculously, their wish was granted! Bursting with curiosity, Candy Corn Cookie is full of questions about everything they see. They still have a habit of chasing birds wherever they go, though.

Jack-o-Lantern Cookie (Trust): This ‘trick-or-treat’ thing is really fun!

Alchemist Cookie (Admiration): Wow, this Cookie knows lots of things!

Blueberry Pie Cookie (Friendly): Ooh, what’s in all these ‘book’ things?

Mocha Ray Cookie (Friendly): Cookies can really live under the sea? WOW!

Carrot Cookie (Tension): Aw, I don’t wanna go back to the farm yet!

Candy corn apparently used to be called ‘chicken feed’, so their pet would probably be a chicken. Again, not sure about the skill.

[5saucefanfic]

Waste the Night - C.H.

Alright, I know it took forever, but here’s part 2 of Royal!5sos with Calum himself. (And look at that. Two posts in a week. I haven’t done that in like a year)

“Another round, Prince Hood?” the bartender asked the sulking prince, head rested against the cool wood of the bar where he was perched, the inevitable headache creeping up on him quickly. He had been worried, making himself sick to his stomach over his missing best friend. It’d been three days since the Irwins had made their way to his family’s castle, and only a day since he’d heard that the castle burned to the ground with absolutely no trace of Ashton or Sarah, his stomach dropping at the thought that he could’ve been in the fire. He knew that he was probably overreacting, it was Ashton after all. He was the strongest and smartest in their group of friends, but he just had an awful feeling about all of this and he didn’t know what else to do besides drink, never having been the kind of person to share his feelings verbally.

“No...I think I’ve maxed out my quota today, Roy. Thank you, though,” he sighed softly pulling out his bag of coins and paying for the rounds he’d had, leaving a generous tip as well as he got up to leave stumbling slightly, head swirling as he tried to catch his footing before falling over. The last thing his family needed was his name slipping passed peoples lips as they gossiped about the drunken prince falling on his ass in the local tavern. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He shouldn’t be in town, much less without a guard of some sort to make sure he was alright, especially intoxicated, but he wasn’t thinking straight when he had left the castle hours ago, let alone in the state he was in at the moment. In fact, he wasn’t thinking at all, especially when he decided to think with his stomach and not his head wandering off towards the smell of freshly baked pastries instead of back to the castle where there was a warm bed waiting for him, and a bucket for the sickness he could feel creeping up through his body.

He didn’t mind being alone, preferred it actually much to his mother’s dismay. He’d always been that way: quiet, reserved, more so introverted than anything. It worried her that when he was to become king, he’d have a hard time adjusting, being constantly surrounded by those he didn’t know and feel comfortable around. His sister always said he just needed that someone to push him through his bubble.

“O-oh my,” he heard a small voice say, eyes shooting up from the floor to realize he was now standing inside of a bakery, not really sure when he walked in, but here he was staring back at a women in front of him that made his knees buckle and took the breath out of his lungs. She was stunning, even with flour in her hair and along her cheeks, her bright eyes wide as she stared in disbelief that the prince was standing in her family’s bakery at such an odd hour, silently regretting not locking the doors like her parents had warned. “How can I help you at such an odd hour, your majesty?” she nearly whispered, her voice as quiet as a mouse as she tried to stay respectful, not wanting to say the wrong thing with the wrong connotation.

“I-I’m sorry. Just smelled really good...couldn’t help myself and follow the scent from outside,” he said timidly himself, mostly trying to avoid the embarrassment of the fact that he was indeed drunk and wandering through the streets later than he should be. Alone. During a war that, most likely, just killed his best friend on his own territory.

The woman blushed as she set the tray of pastries onto the counter, steam still flowing up from the fluffy pastry on the tray, his mouth watering as he absentmindedly licked his lips, eyes flicking back over to the girl as she started to speak up. “Can I get you anything? Water? Tea? A pastry?” she asked putting one of the freshly baked tarts onto a plate as he watched her every move, feet involuntarily making their way over to her driven more by his stomach than his foggy brain at the moment.

“Do you mind? They smell really fuckin good,” he said slurring slightly as he wobbles slightly, the girl  laughing softly softly smiling as she shook her head, helping him to sit at the small table by the counter placing the pastry in front of him.

“Let me grab you a cup of tea. Tastes better with it” she said smiling walking back into the kitchen and coming out with a full set: the pot, cup of cream, cup of sugar, and two cups. She set the tray down on the table he was sitting at, his eyes still watching her every move as she poured him a cup leaving the sugar and milk out for his usage.

“Lovely set,” he said softly as she poured herself a cup. “Do you own the bakery?”

“My dad does. It’s been in the family for three generations now,” she said as she grabbed a pastry for herself sitting across from the dark haired man. She watched as he nodded taking a bite of the fluffy piece, a soft moan escaping him as he closed his eyes. She sucked her lips into her mouth trying to hold back her own moan at the sound he had just made.

“Okay, what is this because I need more of these,” he grumbled with his mouth full, something his father surely would have his head for if he could see him in that moment.

“Pecan danish pastry,” she said trying to stifle a laugh. “ I’m assuming you like it?”

“I fucking love it,” he said, second swear word of the day slipping through his mouth without a care in the world. “Did you make these? They’re fucking amazing.” Three.

“I did..stocking up for the morning rush,” she said blushing smiling softly. “Mum and dad run the bakery in the morning and afternoon and I come in later on to restock and start products for the next day. So I’ll be here until dawn.”

“Oh wow,” he said softly nodding. The two went back and forth as he sobered up, talking well through the night until most of that batch was eaten and the tea had run cold. “It’s getting late...my mother’s probably wondering where I am...and I’m sure you need to get back to baking,” he said sighing as he stood up from the table. “Thank you for the food and drinks. What do I owe you?”

“Don’t be silly,” she said shaking her head as she stood up smiling softly at him making his stomach churn with nerves. “I appreciate the company, your majesty,” she said softly with a small bow.

“Call me Calum, love,” he said softly, pet name slipping easily off his lips as she blushed looking back up at him.

“Y/n.”

It became a routine the next two nights, Calum sneaking out of the castle unaccompanied by anyone else, frequenting the bar the first night before making his way over to his new friend with some liquid courage, completely bypassing the bar the next night to be able to spend more time in the cozy bakery with the girl that fed him some of the best pastries that he’s ever had, always making a mental note to suggest getting a new baker for the castle, maybe even take in y/n’s family if his parents will let him.

He was sitting in the bakery with her earlier than usual, the sun just having set. He’d had a long day, a lot of conversation coming up about what was going to have to happen if Ashton didn’t make it. There had been strict orders in his letters to carry on with the war if he didn’t make it in a week and how to prepare Lauren as the next heir to the throne, the poor thing barely sixteen. It was taking a toll on him and he wasn’t handling it well.

“He’s my best friend, y’know?” He asked before chugging his glass of milk after finishing the warm chocolate chip cookies that had just come out of the oven. “Known him since we were kids. Been there through everything with me…he’s one of the few people I can really open up to about my life.”

“I’m sure he’s going to be just fine, Cal,” she said before taking a sip of her tea having opted out of the bakery items today considering the dress she was currently wearing was suddenly very tight for her, especially around her waist. “If he’s anything you say he’s like, he’s gonna be just fine.”

“I know, I know...I just...no one knows why this guy’s after the four kingdoms, or why he attacked Ashton first,” he sighed. “This whole thing’s just crazy. And then my mom wants to have a ball this weekend just out of nowhere that I really don’t want to go to, but not really given a choice, and then supposedly Luke’s supposed to get married next weekend even though I’m pretty sure he said he doesn’t even know the girl he’s marrying, so that’s cool too. And Michael’s just on hiatus and I’m worried that I’m not going to ever see him again. I’m scared. I don’t handle shit like this well, y/n,” he said swearing again for the first time since the day she had met him.

“Slow down there,” she said grabbing his hand softly, his face burning up slightly feeling her skin on his and suddenly, he wasn’t as worried. Just the touch of her skin against his calmed him down. “You’re going to go to that damn ball and you’re going to enjoy it. It’ll help you clear your mind.”

“You’ve never met my mom,” he said as she laughed softly.

“You’re right, and if you thought I was nervous when the prince walked into the bakery, well damn. I’d probably implode if the king and queen walked in,” she said making him laugh softly. “I’ve always wanted to go to a ball. I heard they’re lovely with all the decorations, and the outfits...and don’t get me started on the music and food. Straight out of a fairytale it seems...”

“You should come with me,” he said biting his lip softly knowing he crossed a very specific line that he was told to never cross. A rule that had been in place centuries before his time...but isn’t that why rules are made? To be broken? Especially ones that were stopping him from getting what he wanted, and that was the girl seated right in front of him. She knew who he was and, yet, still treated him as he’s sure she would any other commoner.

“Oh..Calum, I don’t know…,” she said softly biting her lip, now wishing she had a cookie to eat to occupy her hands and mouth. It wasn’t that she absolutely didn’t want to go, but her status wasn’t high enough to even be thought of as a guest, let alone a guest of the Prince himself...his date.

“C’mon...it’ll be fun. You’ll keep me sane, you can meet my friends, and go to a ball..it’s a win win situation,” he said giving her a small but genuine smile, eyes crinkling at the sides as he did making her heart jump.

She couldn’t believe it the first time he had stepped into her shop, not really sure how to react to the man since she had never met him before. He looked awful and quite frankly like he needed a hug, but she was sure she was stepping well over the line by offering him a hug, so she did the next best thing.

Pastries.

It was what she was good at, having being born into a family of bakers and taught at a young age, she could make a batch of cookies with her eyes closed.

But what had startled her more than the first time that he came in, was that he came back the next day...and the day after that, and here they were only four days later, but seeming as though they’d known each other for years at this point with the way he had so easily opened up to her, and her the same as him.

But now Calum was comfortable and ready to break any of the rules keeping her away from him.

“Calum...I do not even remotely have the means to get a dress for such a thing...and my parents will have to close the bakery early so I can go which means they’ll lose money...and I’m not...you’re a prince Calum and I am the furthest from being from royal blood. I don’t know if this is a good idea..”

“Oh, rubbish,” he said rolling his eyes even though he knew she was right. He knew she was right, but that wasn’t going to stop him. “I will help you get a dress, and they should close all day and make some pastries for the party. I’ll put a word in with my mum. Make sure they’re paid plenty...and quite frankly, y/n, I don’t care if you’re royalty or wealthy or not. I want to bring you with me, if you’ll let me…” he rambled on as she blushed looking at her lap.

“What about your parents?” she asked softly as he shrugged. “Can you just talk to them first and then let me know...give me time to think about it?”

“Fine...but I’ll be back tomorrow,” he said squeezing her hand before kissing it softly. “Tomorrow, y/n.”

“Yeah, yeah...get outta here before you get in trouble. And take some cookies for the road,” she said getting up to pack some away for him, a huge smile on his face as she did.

~

“Absolutely not,” Joy said as Calum groaned rolling his eyes at her. “She’s a baker, Calum. She has no place here, and I dare you to roll your eyes at me again, boy. You may be the prince, but I am still the queen and you are still my son.”

“She has no place here because of the dumb rules in place that were set ages ago, mum. Years have passed, times have changed. The kingdom isn’t poor! Shouldn’t I be able to choose who I want to run my kingdom with? We aren’t in need of financial stability. We aren’t trying to stop a war by eloping...why can’t I choose who I bring to a damn ball?”

“She doesn’t know how to act and I am sure she doesn’t own anything that’ll be suitable to wear. I will not have her make a fool of this family at our own ball,” she said glaring at him as he glared back. “I’m sure you can take Nia. You haven’t seen her in quite a bit of time.”

“I don’t want to fucking take Nia, mum,” he said snapping. “I’m so sick and tired of you and dad dictating how I’m going to live my life. I’m twenty-three years old. I think I know a suitable date when I see one. And, quite frankly mom, I have no problem getting her fitted for a dress and paying for it myself. We have plenty to do just that. The kingdom isn’t poor, which means we sure as hell aren’t poor as well” She glared back at her son but didn’t say anything not wanting to piss him off more knowing how he could get.

“Fine...but if I see one hair out of place Calum Hood, she’s banned from ever stepping foot in this place again, and you will be forbidden to see her. Do you understand me?” he looked at her shocked but nodded quickly not wanting to ruin what he had already accomplished.

“Y-yes ma’am,” he mumbled softly as she nodded slightly.

“You have a fitting in two hours, I suggest you go get her so she has a dress.” And with that, Joy walked up the stairs in the direction of the library as Calum bolted for the door leaving everyone confused as to where the prince was going in such a hurry without his men to make sure he kept out of trouble.

It was odd for the village to see the royal family out frequently and without guards as Calum was trying to make his way passed those that wanted to stop him and show him respect. It was great, he loved his people and the village more than anything, but all he wanted was to get to the damn bakery.

He politely pushed by everyone trying his best to make it to the bakery, sighing softly seeing that it was pretty full. So, he waited in line like everyone else, much to their dismay as they tried to push the prince up front and let him have his turn, which he politely declined. They had time to waste anyways, knowing that Mali was going to take her sweet time with the tailor as they fixed up her gown.

“Next!”

Calum made his way up to the counter, the man behind it blinking shocked when he saw exactly who was standing in front of him. “Uh..y-your majesty. How can I help you?”

“Is y/n here?” he asked as the man blinked at him before nodding to his wife to go find their only daughter.

“Is there something wrong? Did she do something?” he asked worried that this encounter wasn’t going to go well not knowing that Calum had already met the girl a number of times at the bakery itself.

“Oh, no. I just wanted to ask her something...actually, can I also buy like..ten of those pecan pastries you have? They’re amazing,” he said pulling out the pouch he had that carried his money, pulling out enough money to pay for all the food he had consumed of theirs the past few nights knowing they definitely had lost some revenue due to his huge appetite.

He didn’t pay attention as the man in front of her tried to give him change, too focused on the stairs watching as she came down a bit disheveled clearly having just been woken up from a nap.

“This better be good, Hood,” she grumbled, her mother gasping hitting her arm lightly as Calum chuckled not even the slightest bit offended. He enjoyed her banter quite a bit honestly, never really having anyone that dared to speak to him that way.

“Well considering you have a fitting very soon, it is good,” he snickered, the girl’s face going red as her parents looked between the two obviously very confused. “So, I guess you should go fix yourself up.”

“Do...you two know each other?” her father asked as Calum shook off the change just reaching for the large bag of pastries that were now coming his way, a stupid grin on his face as he just pictured himself in front of the fire in the library consuming every last one of these.

“We met a few days ago. I uh...would like to take your daughter to the upcoming ball at the castle, sir,” he said, smile wide on his face as the girl’s blush deepend.

“Calum I told you, ask permission first please,” she sighed softly as he smiled even wider than before.

“I did..that’s why you have a fitting like now,” he said as she sighed shaking her head.

“I hate you,” she grumbled as she fixed her hair trying to look just slightly presentable compared to him.

“No you don’t.”

~

“Your mother didn’t want to chop your head off?” Ashton asked as he  stood by the stairs with Luke and Calum, party in full swing. He had gotten back with Sarah the day before, quickly freshening up in order to be ready for the day ahead of them. The three of them, Ashton Calum and Luke, had spent the day in meetings with Calum and Michael’s fathers, as well as generals from all four kingdoms Michael unable to attend due to his hiatus with the war.

“Nope...and she even agreed to pay for the dress,” Calum said smirking as he took a sip of the alcohol being nursed in his flute. He was nervous, and the bubbles of the champagne weren’t helping his stomach. He wasn’t allowed to see her during the fitting, and Mali made damn sure he couldn’t see her as she was getting ready, and all he could do was thank the lord that his sister was cool.

“Wish my mum was that cool,” Luke grumbled softly already having voiced his opinions about his own situation currently, eyes nearly bugging out of his head as he watched the girl walking down the stairs currently making both Ashton and Calum to see what was holding up their friend.

“Is that the fiancee?” Ashton mumbled softly as Luke shook his head biting his lip watching the girl walk by them.

“No...that’s the sister of said fiancee...if you’ll excuse me,” he mumbled before quickly following after her, Ashton snorting softly as Calum tried to stifle a laugh.

“Whipped,” Ashton mumbled, eyes watching Sarah as she came down the stairs in her dress, the pink tinting his cheeks slightly.

“Look who’s talking,” Calum chuckled as Ashton rolled his eyes looking at him.

“Oh fuck off. I wanna see your face when this baker girl finally makes an appearance,” he whispered to him before meeting Sarah at the bottom of the stairs kissing her hand softly.

“It’ll probably look like yours,” he teased before greeting Sarah smiling softly.

“She looks beautiful, y’know,” she said to him teasing him as he laughed softly.

“I’m nervous if you couldn’t tell,” he said sticking his hands in his pockets laughing.

“Oh, I’m sure everyone in the ballroom could tell that the prince was nervous. You don’t hide it well,” she said as they looked at the top of the stairs just as she appeared with Mali by her side. His heart beating rapidly out of his chest as he made eye-contact with her, her cheeks tinting as she looked down at her feet.

“Whipped,” Ashton teased as he rolled his eyes glaring at him.

“Fuck you mate,” he whispered as Sarah laughed smiling at them.

“C'mon, Ash, let's give the lover boy some privacy,” she giggled, Calum rolling his eyes again as they walked away before returning his attention to the girl that was now in front of him.

“Don’t say it,” she whispered as he chuckled taking her hand kissing it softly before thanking his sister.

“Say what? That you’re fucking stunning?” he whispered to her as he led her away from the stairs and out to the ballroom. “That dress looks perfect on you.”

“You’re still talking,” she teased looking up at him seeing his eyes crinkle with his smile, heart lurching.

“And you’re gonna want me to in a moment. Mom’s coming,” he said nodding his head forward as she looked up seeing Joy herself making her way towards them, David by her side. “Mum, dad.”

“You must be y/n,” Joy said politely giving her a small smile as the girl smiled back bowing slightly.

“I am, your majesty,” she said softly, the intimidation factor taking over not prepared to be up close and personal with the king and queen. “It’s  lovely to meet you.”

“You as well. I hope you enjoy yourself tonight. It’s not often that an outsider gets to experience this,” she said sliding in her dig making both Calum and David frown.

“I will...thank you…,” she whispered, Calum squeezing her hand reassuringly as the two of them walked away. “So your mother hates me. Can I leave yet?” she asked.

“No,” he mumbled frowning looking at her. “You’re gonna enjoy this, and then we’re gonna sneak upstairs and eat the rest of the box of pastries that I bought.”

“I still can’t believe you bought ten,” she sighed softly teasing him as he rolled his eyes with a small smirk on his face.

“What can I say? Best pastries I’ve had,” he said laughing leading her out to the dance floor. “I hope you can waltz.”

“That, I can do,” she said winking at him as he laughed leading her over to the dance floor

~

The two of them giggled failing at their attempt to sneak away from the party quietly, somehow still making it out without being noticed. He pulled her into the library, locking the doors with the skeleton key usually kept on the inside, shoving it in his pocket.

“Okay, okay..help me get these god awful things off,” she giggled lifting her dress showing her heels, Calum laughing bending down to help her take them off. “Such a gentleman”

“I try to be” he said tossing them aside before standing up leading her over to the large couch over by the fire; a teapot with matching cups and saucers, as well as the pastries perched on the table just in front as he sat with her. “Pastry?”

“Yes please,” she hummed watching him as he grabbed one of the little plates getting her the pastry while getting a cup of tea ready for her to consume. “You prepared for this huh? Knew we were gonna escape?” she teased watching him.

“There was no way in hell we were surviving that entire ball,” he said in response focusing on the task at hand. She watched the way his body moved just imagining the muscles she knew were present under his shirt, the way her heart skipped a beat, the muscle speeding up as she was left alone to her thoughts of the man that was now facing her, a smirk on his face as he caught her staring

“See something you like love?” he asked smirking, a blush creeping up on her face as she took the pastry from him, a laugh escaping his lips as she munched on the pastry. “I see something I like”

“You’re drunk,” she gasped with her mouth full, a laugh escaping his lips as he stood up shedding the jacket draped over his shoulders tossing it to the side getting more comfortable.

“I may be, but what I’m saying are sober thoughts,” he hummed sitting back on the couch winking at her as she swallowed the piece she had in her mouth. “You wanna hear them?”

“Sure..,” she said softly biting her lip not sure if she even should. As much as she enjoyed hanging out with Calum, rightfully loved his presence and felt comfortable with him, he was still the price of the kingdom she lived in. He owned her and her family’s business...she had no right being with him, let alone even just thinking about being with him.

“I adore you,” he said softly, face softening with the words that left his mouth, hand coming out to hold hers in her lap. “You brighten my day and I never feel as at home as I do with you. You make me laugh, and I feel I can tell you my darkest secrets. You’re quite easily the most beautiful woman I’ve met, inside and out, and even though I’ve only known you for a proper week, it feels like I’ve known you for years,” he said taking her hand kissing it softly before pulling her close to him. “I...if you have me, i’ll have you,” he whispered.

“Calum…” she whispered softly holding his hand with both of hers. “I...there’s laws against it...we can’t,” she said softly shaking her head looking at him, but the way she was squeezing her hand completely contradicted everything that came out of her mouth, and he knew it.

“That’s not what I asked, love. Forget the laws...forget all the rules. Will you have me?” he asked squeezing her hand lightly as she bit her lip looking over his face for any sign of hesitation from him, any sign saying that he didn’t mean anything he said, and she couldn’t find a single bit of it.

“Yes,” she whispered softly, a smirk spreading across his lips as he leaned in kissing her softly, a small peck starting out first as they slowly but surely started to become more heated, his hands sliding to her hips pulling her close as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She shifted slightly, pulling back a bit uncomfortable as a frown forms on her face.

“What’s wrong love?” he asked softly looking at her distressed face as she stood up.

“This damn corset. Can’t effing breathe...dunno how you all do it but I’m suffocating,” she huffed. “Help please.”

“Take it off?” he asked surprised as he stood, untying her dress from the back helping her as it slid off her body leaving her in her undergarments, a blush creeping onto his face seeing her nearly bare in front of him. His hands shakily reached forward, untying the strings of her corset before loosening them up, a soft sigh leaving her lips as air filled her lungs more so than they had in the dress, the piece falling to the floor leaving her torso bare.

“So much better,” she sighed happily, ready to turn around until she felt his hands on her waist tugging her back into him, lips finding her neck as he kissed and nipped softly, her own hands grabbing at his arms as she let out a soft moan. “Calum..”

“Want all of you...now...can I please?’ he mumbled nearly begging. “Mine...all mine.”

“Just...careful, yeah? I’ve never…,” she whispered trailing off as he placed a soft kiss to her shoulder.

“Neither have I..” he mumbled rubbing her hips. She turned her head to look at him a bit surprised at how the prince, as lovely as he was, was also just as pure, in every single way. She pressed her lips to his again as she turned to face him, arms wrapped around her waist as she moved her lips slowly against his. He moaned softly sitting back on the couch as they kissed, the girl straddling his lap kissing him slowly as her fingers ran through his hair. His hands ran along her sides slowly, making their way to her hips tugging down her bloomers slowly giving her an opportunity to push him off and tell him no. Instead, she got up quickly tugging them off leaving her bare in front of him, a deep blush across her face as she watched him look her over.

“You’re still dressed,” she said softly watching him stand unbuttoning his shirt slowly, his eyes watching her, slowly trailing down her as they landed on her boobs, tongue coming out licking over his lips slowly. “Quicker you get undressed, quicker you can touch my boobs” she whispered smirking catching him, pulling back once she was finally finished unbuttoning the fabric, it slowly slipping down his shoulders before he pulled it off tossing it to the side. He stood up in front of her, eyes not leaving hers as he unbuttoned his pants, tugging them off quickly, but not too rushed. Her eyes trailed down his body slowly, eyes widening slightly as her eyes landed on his cock. “Oh..wow…” she whispered softly as he sat back down tugging her close once again, onto his lap.

“Think you can handle it baby?” he whispered softly, his hand snaking down between her legs running slow circles against her clit, her hands gripping onto his shoulders as she threw her head back, a soft moan leaving her lips as her eyes closed. Her body twitched slightly as he leaned forward kissing her neck softly, his fingers moving faster along her clit before slipping down to her hole, his middle finger sliding in slowly as she gripped him tighter, nails breaking his skin slightly as he moaned himself, pumping his finger in and out of her slowly, adding another finger.

“Just like that” she gasped, hips rolling against his hand fucking herself on his fingers, his free hand gripping her hip tightly as she did. “I wanna feel you now.”

“Baby are you opened up enough? Don’t wanna hurt you” he groaned softly as she pressed her head against his, the shallow breaths they took being the only noise made in the room aside from the sound of the crackling fire.

“I don’t care..need to feel you,” she whimpered, lifting her body slightly so his finger slipped out of her, her own hand reaching down stroking at him slowly. “Please?” she whispered.

“Okay, okay,” he mumbled moving her hand quickly, his own hand replacing where hers was. She lined herself up with him, steadying herself using his shoulders, before sinking down on him slowly, gripping his shoulders tight as he gripped her hips just as tight, the two of them getting used to the feeling of the other as she tried to adjust to his size. He bucked his hips up slightly on accident, a groan leaving her lips as she winced slightly tucking her face in his neck. “Fuck, I’m sorry..I’m sorry.” “It’s okay, I’m okay,” she whimpered sinking down the rest of the way, a tight grip still held onto the other’s body. He held her close when he was fit snugly inside her completely, her own arms wrapped around him holding him close.

“Move when you’re ready love,” he whispered softly as she nodded, her hips rising and falling on him as she started bouncing on him slowly, hips moving in shallow circles against his fucking herself on him as he tried his hardest not to blow then and there. This felt ten times better than he thought it ever could, and was so much better because he was doing this for his first time with her. He was with someone he trusted, and someone he was sure he was in love with. She was everything to him. Just the mere thought of seeing her was what helped him get up in the morning. The way she listened and responded was what made him more vocal, and that much more ready to stand up for what he believed in. She was what he believed in.

“I-I’m getting close” she whimpered softly, his hands sliding down her body to her ass gripping it tightly as he helped her move, his own hips thrusting up into hers meeting her hips. Her moans got louder and louder as he did, her body shaking as she came around him, the broken moans and gasps for air filling the room with sound as he rode her through her high over and over, position after position, hour after hour as the two of them go to know each other’s body without a care in the world, neither of them returning to the ball that night.

They laid quietly with the large throw engulfing their bodies as the fire crackled in front of them keeping the room hot. She was laying on his chest, fingers tracing over the tattoos on his chest leaving little shapes as he watched her, his own fingers rubbing at her back slowly doing the same exact thing that she was going.

“What are we gonna do?” she asked softly. “I...how are we gonna make this work? It was like pulling teeth trying to get your mother to agree to have me come for the ball.”

“Don’t worry about that love...I’ll take care of it...gonna be making a lot of changes in the next few weeks…and it’ll be a hell of a lot easier to change the laws when Luke’s going through kind of the same shit,” He said softly, the girl nodding her head smiling softly at him.

[authorscottmckay]

The Novel Writing Process (Indie Publishing Route)

1.) Research the Market

Before you begin, figure out what genre you would like to write in. Horror? Fantasy? Mystery? Romance? Comedy? There are tons of genres, sub-genres, and mixed genres to choose from.

When you have a genre chosen, start reading. Reading is crucial to becoming a good writer. Read what’s hot in your genre right now, study the tropes people like and dislike, and what traits make characters interesting.

By no means am I saying be a copycat. Don’t just write a book about evil spirits rising from an old Native American burial ground because of Pet Semetary’s success and expect fans of horror to enjoy your series. Be original, but take away from your research the “feel” of the books you read. It’s not specifically about what happened in the book, but ask yourself why those events left you craving more and turning the page.

2.) Pre-writing

Depending on who you ask, pre-writing has a specific set of steps and clear paradigms for what is and is not part of this stage. And, as with many steps in the writing process, it is all up to interpretation. To me, pre-writing begins before you jot down a single word. It begins with a spark of inspiration, and is comprised of all the brainstorming, character creation, plot notes, and every other idea you have for your book before you really get down to starting on chapter 1 (or wherever you do begin writing your book; personally, I prefer the ending or somewhere in the middle).

3.) Outlining

There are two main schools of thought when it comes to writing: those who fly by the seat of their pants — aptly nicknamed “Pantsers” — and those who sit down and plot out the entire book in shorthand before they begin — the “Plotters”. I myself am an avid fan of plotting, because I find it greatly decreases the instances of writer’s block, but feel free to skip this step if you’d rather just wing it.

When plotting, simply take the ideas you came up with in the pre-writing stage and organize them from A-Z in your story. This could be a series of bullet points, a death-by-PowerPoint storyboard, or you can shorthand your entire story, then flesh out the details when you go back over it. There are also specific flows to the plot to consider. Find an organizational method that works for you, and ask yourself these questions: Who is the protagonist? Who, or what, is the antagonist? Why does the protagonist want to stop them? What allies do they meet, and what challenges do they face along the way?

For an awesome reference guide, research a concept known as “The Hero’s Journey”.

4.) The First Draft

Now the fun part. Write. Just write. Don’t stop to edit, even if you have a mess of misspellings, punctuation errors, and sentences that come across like a drunk toddler hijacked your keyboard/pen. Just get the words onto the page. Pour your bleeding heart and soul out, have a blast doing it, and understand one simple thing:

The first draft sucks.

The first draft is a heaping pile of manure that should never see the light of day. The first draft would crack mirrors if they had eyes to see it. If you dare to try to publish a first draft, as I have seen impatient indie authors online do, you will invoke my wrath, and I will find you, and I will beat you with a frozen swordfish.

Once you have finished pumping a wordgasm into your Google Docs, Word, Scrivener, or whatever writing program file, sit back, relax, finish your coffee/tea/booze, and cry.

Because now comes the part every writer just loves… So. @&$%ing. Much.

5.) The Self-Edit

“Psh, wait, what? I don’t need to edit my novel. The publishing house will do that for me, or I’ll just hire someone to do it.”

You hear that?

That’s the sound of my swordfish, fresh out of the big ass freezer I purchased just to contain it. And it’s ready for a beat down.

If you were to send a first draft to a publisher, you would be laughed at and rejected immediately. If you’re going the indie route, and an editor you hire needs to spend an enormous amount of time rifling through endless errors, you’ll be digging yourself a massive hole of debt trying to pay them for all that extra work.

Trust me: edit the book to the best of your abilities, and your wallet or publisher will thank you for it later. I would also recommend getting the help of friends and family, if available. These people, reading over your book in the first draft stage (and you better buy them a coffee or something), are what are known as “alpha readers”. We’ll go into depth on the types of readers who help in the editing phase in another post.

There are multiple types of edits to do:

Developmental edit

Read over your story and take note of what makes sense or not, what weak areas could be strengthened, and weed out any continuity errors you find. Just focus on the plot and big scenes. Best to get help with this one in the form of beta readers (see next step).

Copy edit

Go word-by-word checking for typos and spelling errors along with correcting grammar, language, and syntax errors. Also, at this point, deal with any punctuation issues you see. 

Line edit

Focus on the finer aspects of language. Read over each sentence to asses their flow and whether or not they get the idea across. Try to tighten them up and avoid run-on sentences.

Sensitivity edit

A sensitivity edit it highly recommended when writing about other cultures, minorities, LGBTQ+ characters, and social issues you may not be familiar with. You don’t want readers getting pissed and blasting you for being homophobic, misogynistic, racist, and/or ignorant. This may be difficult to do on your own, so I recommend a fresh set of eyes from a friend or family member to help you, particularly if they happen to be a part of the group you are writing about.

 Proofread

This is the final edit. Read through your manuscript one last time to check for any spelling mistakes, grammatical issues, continuity errors, or other glaring problems.

6.) Get Beta Readers

A beta reader is someone who reads your manuscript and gives feedback before it is ready to be published. What defines a beta reader vs. an alpha reader is actually kind of blurry. Personally, I believe beta readers should come after you have done some thorough self-edits. When you get feedback from your betas, apply it to your book, and continue with another round of self-edits.

Whatever you do, get the beta reader feedback BEFORE the professional edit. Obviously, you don’t want to add the feedback into your book after the edits, then have to pay someone to re-edit those parts of the book.

7.) Get a Critique Partner

Got any writer friends? Good. Ask them if they would help you in the self-edit process by reading through your book and giving feedback as a fellow writer, not as a reader. Think of a critique partner as a beta reader who is reading from the author’s perspective. They can have a world of information and writing tips you hadn’t even considered during the first draft.

8.) The Professional Edit

“B-but I already did my own edits!”

Yes! Good job! Here’s a cookie. Chew on it while you send your book off to people who are vastly more experienced than you.

There’s no skipping this step, even if you’re on a tight budget. Your book needs a professional edit in the form of all the edits you just did. Without it, readers will be able to tell it’s an unfinished book, and you’ll come across as an amateur.

I’m not going to lie, if you’re going the indie publishing route, it’s expensive. Get good at saving money from your day job. Some editors charge per hour, some per page, and some per word. A common fee is $0.01 - 0.03 per word. Doesn’t sound intimidating at first glance, but if you’ve just finished 50k words for NaNoWriMo, or you’ve got the next great 120k word urban fantasy that’ll blow the Mortal Instruments out of the water…well, you do the math.

Just, please, for the love of all that is holy, don’t hire some shady “super experienced” all-purpose editor off of Fiverr because you want to save a buck, then wind up getting half-assed work back and need to find a real editor to fix it. Cough… Not that I’d know anyone who did that. <_<

9.) The Book Cover

“Don’t judge a book by it’s cover” is a phrase only to be applied as a metaphor to say “don’t judge people based on their appearance.”

In the book world, we DEFINITELY judge books by their covers.

If you do absolutely no other form of advertising, make sure you have a damn good book cover. The cover is going to count for about 80% of your advertising. You might have a book that’s going to change peoples’ lives and make you a household name along with a buttload of money. But if the cover sucks, no one is going to buy it except for a few family members and friends.

Make sure you research what book cover styles are popular in your genre so it stands out to readers as something they might enjoy. For example: most urban fantasy YA novels feature a model of the main character in the middle, and they might be holding some sort of weapon; the background is neat, perhaps a city scape or a mystical forest; the font of the title and name are custom-made and might have a swirling, curved, or twisted shape to them.

10.) Formatting

This is often a package deal with book cover designers. Get your book formatted for readability on whatever platform you’ll be publishing it to.

11.) Get an ISBN

Submit your book for an ISBN. Easy peasy. Now, if you’re just going to publish on Amazon, they do have their own free ISBN, but if you want to publish to other sources like Kobo and iBooks, you’ll need to get your own.

12.) Publication

This is it. The moment you’ve been waiting for. Once you’ve got your book all together in an awesome package, find which platform you want to publish your book to — Amazon, iBooks, Kobo, Blurb, Lulu, Smashwords, etc... — and follow their guidelines for setting up an account, giving them your tax info, and uploading your files.

Congratulations! You’ve just published a book. Is it your first one? Then revel in the fact that you are now officially an author. Go out and celebrate with a steak night and a beer (or whatever is appealing according to your diet), then get back to work.

13.) Extras

Not mentioned in this process are things like building your author platform, marketing, advertising, getting deals with bookstores and libraries, and setting up book tours. These don’t have a set place in the writing process. When it comes to marketing and building your author platform, those are things you need to do even before you begin writing your book, all throughout the process, and long after it’s all finished. Things like planning when to officially launch your book, and whether or not pre-orders will be available, are important considerations as well.

Every writer has their own process. This has been my personal experience with the indie writing and publishing process. Comment down below if there is anything you would add to help aspiring, brand new, and veteran authors achieve their writing goals. Thanks for reading!

[starspangledbanner27]

**CHAPTER UPDATE – Chapter 5 posted**

Fandom: Saving Mr. Banks (AU)

Description: AU take on the movie, exploring what might have happened if the author of the Mary Poppins books had been someone very different from P. L. Travers.  For Carrie Schultz, the chance to collaborate with Walt Disney Studios to bring Mary Poppins from the page to the screen is a dream come true.  However, matters grow complicated when animated penguins prove to be a point of contention, a friendly working relationship turns into more than she bargained for, and Carrie struggles to prevent Walt’s team from discovering her own hidden afflictions.

Characters: Carolina “Carrie” Schultz (OC), Don DaGradi, Walt Disney, Richard M. Sherman, Robert B. Sherman, Ralph

Rating: T

Genre: Drama/Romance

Language: English

Read on Fanfiction.net, AO3, Wattpad, Quotev, or below.

From the beginning on Fanfiction.net, AO3, Wattpad, or Quotev.

A special thank-you to my mom, who, after reading chapters 3 and 4, suggested a few minor additions and changes in wording.  And, as always, thank you to my readers!  I hope you enjoy this chapter.  

~~~~~~

Chapter 5

As I emerged from Walt’s office, Tommie looked up and smiled.  “Well, hello again!  Did you have a nice chat?  I hope Walt didn’t talk your ears off.”

I smiled back.  “It went very well, thank you.”

“Good.  Oh, and I apologize for the state of Walt’s office.  I keep telling him to clean it out, but he’s come up with this elaborate excuse for why he has to have all that clutter on display.”  She shook her head.  “Honestly, that man.”  

I laughed.  “He certainly is a force of nature.”

She raised her eyebrows.  “I’ll say.”  I laughed again, and she smiled.  “Anyway, I believe Don’s out there waiting for you.”

“Thanks; I’ll go meet him.”

“All right then.  You have a nice day, Carrie.”

“You too.”

Sure enough, I returned to the reception room to find Don sitting on the couch, waiting for me as promised.  When he saw me coming, he immediately sprang to his feet. “Hey!  How’d it go?”

“It went well,” I replied.  “You were right; Walt’s not nearly as intimidating once you meet him.”

He grinned.  “Good.  Well, in that case, let’s get to work!”

As we passed the reception desk, Dolly looked up from the pile of papers she was sifting through.  “Are you guys headed off now?”

“Yeah, we’re going over to the rehearsal room,” Don said.

“All right.  I’ll be there in a few minutes with refreshments.”  She turned to me.  “It was nice to meet you, Carrie!  I hope you enjoy your time here.”

“Thank you; I’m sure I will,” I replied with a smile. Then Don opened the door for me once again, and I exited the reception room with him close behind.

We headed down the hall together—me with my purse clutched tightly in my hands, Don with my jacket over one arm and the other swinging at his side.  I found myself watching him out of the corner of my eye, noticing the relaxed, easy grace with which he carried himself.  His stride was brisk and fluid, with just a hint of swagger—not so much as to seem arrogant, but enough to lend him an air of appealing self-assurance.  He whistled a little as we walked, and I smiled to myself when I recognized the tune as “Heigh-Ho” from Snow White and the Seven Dwarves.  At last, after several seconds, he spoke.

“Now, most days, Dick and Bob and I will probably be here working by the time you arrive, so you’ll have to find your own way to the rehearsal room.  It’s not that hard, though—just come in the front door and up the stairs like we did earlier, and then down this hall and make a left.  And of course, if you have any trouble, just ask one of the other employees; they’ll be happy to help.”

“Thank you,” I replied.

“No problem.”  He tucked his free hand casually into his pocket.  “So, you ever been to Los Angeles before?”

“No; actually, this is the first time I’ve been in California at all.”

“Ah.  And how do you like it?”

“It’s lovely . . . although quite a bit warmer than I’m used to.”

He laughed.  “Well, don’t worry—what we lack in cool weather, we make up for in air conditioning.”

I smiled.  “That’s a relief.”

We strode along in silence for another few moments before Don resumed the conversation.  “So, your first time in L.A.; think you’ll do any sightseeing while you’re here?”

I shrugged.  “We’ll see.  I mean, first things first—we have a movie to make.”

“Well, we’re off work on the weekends.  Maybe then you’ll get to check out the city some.”

“Maybe.”

By that time, we had reached a place where the main hallway branched off to the left.  “This is where you turn,” Don said, pointing.  We rounded the corner and headed down a smaller corridor, at the end of which was a pair of glass doors with REHEARSAL ROOM printed on them.  On the handle of one door hung a sign that read, “Please be quiet. Rehearsal in progress”—with, of course, a picture of Mickey Mouse, smiling and waving, right in the middle. When we arrived at the end of the hall, Don reached out to grab the handle of one of the doors.  “And this,” he said, grinning, “is where the magic happens.”  He swung open the door and gestured for me to walk through.

Together we entered a large, airy room with a long table in the center, where the Sherman brothers were seated.  They must have been waiting for us to arrive, because when we entered, they looked up and promptly rose from their chairs.  “She’s back!” Bob exclaimed with a smile.

“Nice to know I’ve been missed,” Don remarked, but there was laughter in his voice.

“So, how’d the meeting with Walt go?” Dick inquired.

“Very well; thank you for asking,” I replied, unsure whether I ought to remain standing or take a seat at the table.  Just as I was about to ask, Don spoke again.

“You guys got everything set up?”

“Yeah, just about,” Bob replied, “except we couldn’t find the pencils.  Did you move them?”

Don’s brow furrowed slightly.  “No, they should be on the desk.”

While they continued their discussion, I lingered a few steps away, taking in my surroundings.  Sunlight streamed through the windows, which, thanks to the mild morning weather, had been thrown open to welcome the fresh breeze that was now gently fluttering the blinds.  In one corner of the room stood a console piano; in another corner, a snare drum; and on the wall between them, a three-seat couch with a wooden coffee table.  The other three walls were lined with music-related paraphernalia, as well as a desk, two small corner tables, and several large rolling cork boards with various pencil sketches—some in black and white, others in color—thumbtacked onto them.  

“Carrie?”

I returned my attention to the three men.  “Yes?”

Don gestured to himself and the Sherman brothers.  “We were thinking we’d start by reading through the script together.  It’s not quite finished yet, but it should give you some idea of where we’re at right now and what we still have to work on.”

I nodded.  “All right, that sounds good.”

He gave a nod of satisfaction.  “Great.  In that case . . .” he pulled out a chair and thumped the back of it lightly, “. . . would you care to have a seat?”

“Yes, that’d be wonderful.”  I came over, sat down, and allowed him to slide me towards the table. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” he replied with a smile.  This trio, it seemed, were always smiling—wide, merry, heartfelt grins that I found irresistibly contagious.  

As the men seated themselves around the table, the door opened and Dolly entered the room, pushing a cart laden with sweet treats. “Here comes the food!” she announced as she parked the cart beside the table.  

“Wow!” I exclaimed.  “What is all this?”

Don grinned.  “That, my dear Carrie, is what keeps us alive—especially on days like this, when we have a whole script to get through.”

“Mmm!”  Dick licked his lips hungrily.  “What’s on the menu today, Dolly?”

She grinned.  “Well, for starters, I have donuts . . .”

“Ooh!” the three men chorused.

“. . . and chocolate chip cookies . . .”

“Yum!”

“. . . and, last but not least, the grand finale—ta-da!” Dolly proudly held up a large round platter with different-colored Jell-O squares arranged in piles around the rim—and in the center, a single block of red Jell-O shaped like Mickey Mouse’s head, with candy decorations for a face.   

“Oh, how charming!” I exclaimed with delight.  “He looks almost too good to eat!  Almost.”

“You’ve really outdone yourself this time, Dolly,” Dick remarked with a grin.

Dolly placed the Jell-O platter on the table ceremoniously, then clasped her hands and looked around at the four of us.  “Well, then, is there anything else I can get you?”

Don shook his head.  “I think we’re all set.  Thank you, Dolly!”

“Yes, thank you!” Dick, Bob, and I echoed.

“You’re quite welcome!”  She gave a gratified nod.  “See you all later, then!  Have fun!” And with that, she exited the room, pushing the cart along in front of her.

After she left, Don clapped his hands together eagerly. “All right, now does everyone have a pencil and a copy of the script?”

Dick glanced around the table.  “Looks like it.”

“Great, then let’s get started.”  We all opened our scripts to the first page.  Don reached into the breast pocket of his suit jacket, pulled out a pair of black-rimmed glasses, and slid them onto his face. “Ready?” he asked.  The rest of us nodded and looked down at our scripts. Don cleared his throat slightly and glanced in my direction, which I took to mean that I should begin reading.

“‘Scene one, ext.’” ‘Ext.’? What on earth does that mean? I wondered.  Extreme?  Extra? Neither made sense.  Extended, perhaps?  

Just then, I noticed that Don was reading the rest of the scene heading. My face reddened as I realized my mistake—he hadn’t meant for me to read the script; he’d cleared his throat because he was preparing to read it.  Despite my embarrassment, I raised a hand to stop him. “Excuse me—I’m sorry, what is ‘ext.’?”

“Oh, exterior,” he explained.  “It means the scene takes place outside.”

“Oh, I see.  Thank you.” 

I returned my gaze to the script and waited for him to resume.  But instead he said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t ask—did you want to do the reading?”

“Oh, no!” I exclaimed.  “I mean, of course, if you want me to, I wouldn’t mind; but I didn’t mean to read over you, if that’s what you’re saying.” 

Bob smiled reassuringly.  “Carrie, relax; there’s no harm done.”

“Of course not,” Don agreed.  “Here, why don’t you read the scene heading, and then we’ll all take turns from there?”

“All right.”  I cleared my throat.  “‘Scene one, exterior, 17 Cherry Tree Lane, London, day.  Bert, a one-man band, plays to a small gathering outside the gates to the park.  Bert says . . .’”  I looked around the table.  “Um, who’s reading for Bert?”

“I can be Bert,” Don offered.  He turned to the other two men.  “Guys, shall we give it a whirl?”  Without further explanation, they all jumped up from their seats and headed to the other side of the room. 

“Wait—what’s happening?” I asked, completely bewildered. As if in answer to my question, the Sherman brothers positioned themselves at the piano, and Dick began pounding out a tune. 

“‘All right, ladies ’n’ gents!’” Don announced, reading from the script in a Cockney accent.  “‘Comical poems suitable for the occasion, extemporized and thought up before your very eyes.  All right . . . here we go!’”  On his cue, Dick and Bob began to sing:

“Room here for everyone,

Gather around!

The constable’s responstable—

Now how does that sound?” 

Meanwhile, Don continued his Bert act; and I couldn't help giggling at the way he threw himself into it with large gestures, exaggerated facial expressions, and a droll, comical air.  He walked up to an imaginary lady and pretended to tip his hat as the brothers sang:

“’Ello, Miss Lark; 

I've got one for you!”

Dick stopped playing for a moment so that the rhyme could be spoken without music.  “Miss Lark . . . likes to walk . . . in the park . . . with Andrew!”

A quick glance at the script informed me that Andrew was Miss Lark's Yorkie, which fact was confirmed when Don bent down to pet an invisible dog.  “Hello, Andrew!” he greeted it, then stood back up for the next verse:

“Ah, Mrs. Cory, 

A story for you:

Your daughters was shorter than you,

But they grew!”

I smiled involuntarily as all three men widened their eyes in amazement at the prodigious growth of Mrs. Cory’s daughters. 

Then Dick began to play again; but this time the music changed from jaunty and playful to quiet and mysterious.  Don looked down at the script and read, “‘A light wind arises, and Bert’s attention is suddenly drawn away.  The onlookers glance at each other in confusion as he gazes up at the sky, as if he knows a secret.’”  With that, Dick and Bob sang:

“Dear Miss Persimmon . . .

Wind’s in the east, 

Mist comin’ in, 

Like somethin’ is brewin’,

About to begin. 

Can't put me finger

On what lies in store, 

But I feel what's to ’appen

All ’appened before.”

With a final flourish from Dick, the song ended, and the trio looked over at me expectantly.  Laughing, I gave them a round of ecstatic applause.  

“I love it!” I exclaimed.  “Are they all like this?”

“Well, we do have a few slower ones in mind; but basically, yeah, that’s the idea,” Bob replied.

“Well, I can’t wait to hear the rest of them. Keep up the good work.”  I gave a nod of admiration.  Beaming, the three men returned to their seats at the table.

“All right,” Don said, “shall we continue?”

~~~~~

We did, indeed, read through the entire script that day. We also went through the whole plate of donuts, half the cookies, and all but a few squares of Jell-O; so when it came time for lunch, we were too full to even think about eating anything more. However, Bob was starting to shift uncomfortably in his seat; and Dick, noticing this, suggested we take a break. Everyone readily agreed.  

The four of us stood up to stretch our legs, and I noticed Bob wincing slightly as he rose from his chair.  He caught his breath in a soft, pained gasp, then quickly regained his composure, exhaling slowly.  Dick saw this as well and cleared his throat.  “Say, Bob, why don’t we head over to our office for a bit?  I have an idea for one of the songs that I want to run by you, but, ah, I don’t want to spoil the surprise for Carrie here.”  

Bob stared at his brother for a few seconds.  Dick stared back, and I sensed an unspoken conversation pass between them.  At last, Bob nodded.  “All right. As long as that’s okay with you guys?” He glanced questioningly at Don and me.

“No problem; take as much time as you need,” Don said. “We’re more than halfway through the script already, so we’ll just finish reading it when you guys get back.”

With a grateful nod, Bob took his cane and limped to the door with Dick following close behind.  Don and I watched them go; and as soon as the door closed behind them, I turned to him.  “Don, may I ask a question?”

He nodded.  “Yeah, of course.  What is it?”

We sat back down in our chairs, and I took a deep breath before speaking again.  “I don’t mean to be rude, but I was just wondering . . . what’s wrong with Bob’s leg?”

“He got shot,” Don replied solemnly.  

“Oh . . . I’m sorry,” I said quietly.  “How did it happen?”

“Combat wound.  He was a soldier in World War II.”

“World War II?” I asked incredulously.  “That’s surprising; he doesn’t seem old enough to have been in the army back then.”

“He was very young when he joined—seventeen, if I remember correctly,” Don explained.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”  Noticing the concern on my face, he continued.  “We don’t talk about it much around here.  Bob doesn’t like to be pitied.”

I smiled wryly.  “I can relate to that.”

Don sighed.  “Most of us here agree that Bob’s a little too tough for his own good. Fortunately, Dick knows his brother’s limits, and he knows how to persuade Bob to take a break when he needs it . . . like you saw just now.”

“It was very artfully done,” I agreed.  “Reminds me of my sister.”

Don chuckled, but then a look of discomfort crossed his face, and he tugged at his collar slightly.  “Hey, Carrie, does it seem hot in here to you?”

I thought for a moment.  “Well, I hadn’t noticed; but now that you mention it, yes, it is a little warm.”

Don glanced at the windows, which were still open. “Must be heating up outside.  I’d better shut the windows.”  After doing so, he returned to the table, fanning himself with one hand.  He pulled out his chair to sit down, but hesitated, looking up at me with a question in his eyes.  “Would you be offended if I . . .” he gestured to his suit jacket.

“Oh—no, of course not!” I exclaimed.  “Please, I wouldn’t want you to overheat.”

“Thank you.”  With deft fingers, he unbuttoned his jacket, slipped it off, and hung it on the back of his chair.  He then proceeded to roll up his sleeves and loosen his necktie slightly, and suddenly I felt rather overheated myself.

At last Don sat down again.  This time, he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head, a friendly smile curving his lips.  “So . . . tell me about yourself.”

“Uh . . .” I faltered, “well, what do you want to know?”

He shrugged.  “I dunno; anything.  What do you do when you’re not writing?”

I thought for a moment.  “Well, I mostly spend time with my sister—help her around the house and stuff.  And I play piano,” I added, casting a longing glance at the one in the corner. 

Don raised his eyebrows.  “Really?  Are you good at it?”

“People say I am,” I replied modestly. 

“Well then, you ought to try that one out sometime.” He nodded towards the very instrument I’d been gazing at a second ago. 

“Really?” I asked incredulously.  “You don't think the Shermans would mind?”

He grinned.  “I guarantee they wouldn’t.  In fact, I’m sure they’d love to hear you play.”  He brought one hand out from behind his head to scratch the side of his nose.  “So, you have a sister.  Any other family?”

“Uh, no . . . not anymore. Our parents died several years ago.”

“Oh, gosh, I’m sorry,” he said quietly. 

“Yeah.”  I stared down at the table.  “Our mom passed away from pneumonia, and Dad . . . well, six months later, we lost him too. The doctor said it was the grief that did it.”

Don was silent for a few seconds; then he spoke. “Wow, that . . . that must have been hard.”

“Yeah, it was.”  I shook my head and looked back up at him, trying to regain my casual, upbeat tone.  “So now it’s just me and my sister, Samantha . . . and her husband, James.  The two of them rented a place for a while after they got married, and I stayed at home with our parents . . . but then once Dad died, Sam and I talked it over and decided there wasn’t much point in my having that big house all to myself.  So in the end, Sam and James moved in, and we’ve all been living together ever since.”

“And how does that work out for you?” he inquired.

“Pretty well, for the most part,” I replied. “The house itself is basically divided in two.  They live in the main portion, which has the living room, the dining room, and the kitchen, plus two bedrooms and two bathrooms upstairs.  And then right inside the front entrance, there’s this door; and when you open it, you’ll find a separate flight of stairs that leads to a bedroom, a bathroom, and an office, all partitioned off from the rest of the house. That’s where I work and sleep.”

Don nodded, then looked off to the side, biting his lower lip thoughtfully.  After a few seconds, he looked back at me.  “So, you’re not married?”

I blushed.  “No.  I mean—that’s correct; I’m not married.”

An expression I couldn’t quite name flickered across his face for the briefest of moments before he looked downward and began fiddling with a pen.  “Interesting,” he murmured.  “Just never found the right one?”

I sighed.  “More like I never really got around to looking for the right one. Just . . . too much going on, I suppose.”

He nodded.  “I know what you mean.”

“What about you?” I asked.  “Are you married?  Or . . . anything?”  Why our conversation had steered in this direction, I wasn’t sure; but since it had, I figured I might as well ask.  Friendly curiosity and the like.

“Uh, no . . . no, I’m not.”

“Hmm,” I said as my stomach did a little flip-flop. I swallowed.  “And the Sherman brothers?”

He nodded, grinning.  “They’re both married, with kids.  You should meet their families sometime; they’re really great.”

I smiled.  “I’ll bet.”

Another pause ensued; then he spoke again.  “So, are you enjoying your first day here so far?”

“Yes, very much,” I replied, nodding eagerly.

He smiled.  “Good. I know it’s probably a little overwhelming to read through the entire script first thing, but I promise what comes next will be a lot more fun.”

“Oh, I’m already having fun!” I exclaimed.  “Just being here is a dream come true for me!” Don’s eyes sparkled with mirth, which led me to clear my throat and lower my gaze self-consciously.  “I know that sounds corny.  It’s probably what you guys hear from every starry-eyed newcomer, right?”

He shook his head.  “It’s not corny at all.  Being here is a dream come true—for all of us. And it doesn’t go away.”  

I gave him a grateful smile.  “So . . . tell me more about Mr. Disney.”

“Ah-ah!  ‘Walt,’ remember?” he corrected me gently.

“Right—sorry.  I’m still getting used to that.”

He chuckled again.  “That’s okay.  What do you want to know about him?”

“Well . . . what is he really like?  I mean, as a boss?  What’s it like to work for him?”

Don smiled.  “Wonderful, for the most part.  Walt’s kind of like an uncle to us all.  He wants us to enjoy what we do here.  He encourages creativity, he values our ideas, and he also cares about what goes on in our personal lives.”

“So, essentially, he’s the perfect boss,” I said.

Don raised an eyebrow wryly.  “Well . . . nobody’s perfect.”

“Oh?”

He sighed.  “Walt is a . . . tough critic.  Which is good, in a way, because that’s the type of person it takes to run a moviemaking business.  But it’s always hard when we pour ourselves into something only to have him take one look at it and say it’s not good enough.  And then it’s back to the drawing board to work our, uh . . .”

“Rear ends off?” I supplied.

He laughed.  “Yeah, pretty much.  Don’t get me wrong; he really is a great guy . . . but there are some days when he’ll come and talk to you about whatever project you’re working on, and then he’ll leave the room and you’ll wonder if you just had a conversation with Attila the Hun.”

“Oh . . . I see.”

We both fell silent for a few seconds; then I spoke. “You know, I should probably warn you—I tend to be somewhat of a tough critic myself.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise.  “You?  Really?”

I laughed.  “You don’t believe me?”

“Well, it’s just . . . you don’t really seem like the type.”

“Oh, I can be a lot feistier than anyone would think.” I grinned mischievously, eliciting yet another laugh from him.  “But,” I continued, “in all seriousness, I know you guys have been working hard on this, so I’ll try to keep my criticisms to a minimum.”

“What?  No, don’t do that.”

I stared at him, surprised.  “Why not?”  

“Well, the whole reason you’re here is to give us your feedback on this project—so if you don’t let us know what you’re thinking, that pretty much defeats the purpose, doesn’t it?”

I raised an eyebrow.  “You really want to know everything I’m thinking?”

“Well . . . yeah.  I mean, that is why we’re doing this.”

I held his gaze for a few seconds, then shrugged my shoulders with mock nonchalance.  “All right. Let’s see . . . first of all, the Banks’s address should be referred to as ‘Number 17 Cherry Tree Lane,’ not just ‘17.’  The tape measure Mary Poppins uses to measure the children should be a roll tape, not a ruler.  The comment Ellen makes about the family needing a zookeeper—I think ‘ruddy zookeeper’ would be better.  ‘Bloomin’ zookeeper’ sounds awkward with the two oo’s.  And, frankly, I think the whole exchange between the market sellers and the nannies should be cut; it takes up several minutes’ worth of screen time without really adding anything to the story.”  I smirked a little when I saw that Don’s eyes had widened and his mouth had dropped open slightly.  “I told you I’m a tough critic.”

He blinked.  “Wow . . . yeah.  You weren’t kidding.”

“Are you having second thoughts?”

He looked off to the side, thinking.  Then, after several moments, he met my gaze again. “No,” he said.  “I still think you should give us whatever suggestions you have. But you should also understand that we might not be able to carry out every single one.”

I nodded.  “I understand that.”

“All right, then we have a deal.”

After that, we fell into silence again.  I gazed absentmindedly through the glass doors and down the hallway until I felt Don’s eyes on me.  I turned my head and, sure enough, caught him watching me, sizing me up. “What are you thinking?”  I asked.

He stared at me for another second before answering. “I don’t know, it’s just . . . somehow I get the feeling you’re a little more than what we bargained for.”

“Is that bad?”

His lips curved upwards slightly, just enough for his dimples to show.  “No,” he replied.  “No, I think it’s exactly what we need.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

But just as he was about to answer, the door opened, and we looked up to see Dick and Bob enter the room.  “We’re back!” Dick announced.

“Great!”  Don sat up a little straighter, ready to get back to business; and, reluctantly, I followed suit, wishing we’d had a few more minutes so I could have heard what he was going to say.

“I see you guys closed the windows,” Dick remarked. “Good call.  Dolly said the temperature outside is getting up into the eighties.”

As he passed by Don’s chair, Bob leaned over and murmured, “Sorry about that.”

Don shook his head.  “Not a problem.”

Once the brothers took their seats, Don cleared his throat.  “Well, shall we continue?”  The other three of us nodded.  “Who’s reading?” he asked.

“I think it was my turn,” Dick replied.  He glanced at each of us.  “Everyone ready?”

“Mm-hmm,” we assented.

“All right then, let’s see . . . ah, here we are. ‘Scene 9—The Streets of London . . .’”

As Dick read, I found my thoughts drifting back to the conversation I’d had with Don while the Shermans were out of the room. Eventually, without really knowing why I did so, I glanced up from my script to look at him.  Though his eyes were on the script, it seemed that his mind was elsewhere; then, suddenly, he looked up at me.  Our eyes met for but a moment before we returned them to our scripts—yet in that one moment, something passed between us, leaving the air crackling and my heart racing as I began to suspect that I, too, had gotten more than what I’d bargained for.

~~~~~

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@iwillalwaysreturm | @writings-of-a-narwhal | @24hourshipping

[jahaanofmenaphos]

Art by the awesome @tommieglenn!

Of Gods and Men Summary:

When the gods returned to Gielinor, their minds were only on one thing: the Stone of Jas, a powerful elder artefact in the hands of Sliske, a devious Mahjarrat who stole it for his own ends and entertainment. He claims to want to incite another god wars, but are his ulterior motives more sinister than that? And can the World Guardian, Jahaan, escape from under Sliske’s shadow?

Read the full work here:

ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN

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TUMBLR CHAPTER INDEX

QUEST 03: LET SLEEPING GODS LIE

QUEST SUMMARY:

Jahaan stumbles upon a newly excavated chamber, one that a charismatic young stranger claims to be where Guthix resides under the earth. However, once this knowledge becomes commonplace, many different factions come to a head, either to protect the sleeping god, wake him, or destroy him...

CHAPTER 1: TEMPLE DESECRATED

Like Ozan, Jahaan took a ship to Catherby in order to avoid traversing the dangerous mountains that separated the two kingdoms - Asgarnia, housing Falador, and Kandarin, where Catherby and the Legends’ Guild were located. Catherby was the largest fishing village in Gielinor, home to some of the greatest fishermen in the land. The crisp, clear blue waters of the beach were home to vast amounts of different fish, all plentiful, all delicious to eat or, for those so inclined, profitable to sell. Glorious gold-plated ships were docked in the ports, side by side to the numerous fishing trawlers that strayed further from the shores to catch their supplies of fish. On his way to Burthorpe, Jahaan had spent close to a month on its soft, golden beach, loving the feeling of the slightly damp sand from the retreating tide between his toes. As it was summer when he visited last, the warm evenings allowed him to sleep under a blanket of stars and spend his days among the company of other fisherman, enjoying the past-time together. He made a fair bit of money that summer, selling what he didn’t eat to the local fishmongers. A part of him was tempted to stay there longer, almost indefinitely, to save up enough to rent out a small room in an inn, or maybe even buy a residence of his own. For a while he felt he could quite happily live out his life with lazy days of fishing, but he soon realised he was only kidding himself, and the serenity began to grate on him. With little more than his memories to keep him company, Jahaan became increasingly restless, the remnants of guilt from his first encounter with Lucien eating away at the edges of his sanity. Therefore, decisions were made, and he left Catherby for the Imperial Guard. Being back, however, brought with it some blissful memories, especially when that salty sea air slipped through his nose and hit his lungs. With a sad smile, he traced his fingers lightly over the armour at his wrist. His eyes gazed into the far off horizon, a watercolour of blue and pink, blending the sky together in a picturesque portrait only his eyes could capture.

Taking a seat on the sands, Jahaan removed his chestplate and started to work out the kinks in his back.

I think I’ll catch some fish, build a fire, and settle down here for the night…

It ended up being just under a week when Jahaan finally continued his journey, leaving Catherby behind him as he set out for the Legends’ Guild. The Guild wasn’t too far from Catherby, but it was still a two-day journey. Following the coastline took Jahaan a little longer than going direct would, but it allowed him easy access to fresh food and clean water. A night’s camp by the shore was never a bad thing in his eyes, and the day after, with a brisk pace, he made it to the Legends’ Guild by the afternoon.

The grasslands around it were dotted with pleasant little flowers, and trees of many different varieties lined the way. From oaks, to yews, and even an elder - firewood is never an issue on this path. Or, for the most ambitious, elder logs fetched a high price in the right market.

He saw about a dozen woodcutters making the most of the opportunity.

One thing that did puzzle Jahaan though - there was a large crater dug not too far from the entrance of the Legends’ Guild.

Weird… that wasn’t here last time I came through this way. Are they digging a new quarry or something?

Shrugging, Jahaan let it slide as he squared up his shoulders and strode up to the entrance to the Legends’ Guild.

As soon as he got close, the burly guard at the gate locked suspicious eyes on him; he tugged on the leash that pulled his dog into view, who maddly started barking at Jahaan and launching himself at the gate, as if he was starved and Jahaan was the only meat he’d seen in a week.

Cautiously, Jahaan slowed his approach. “Um, h-hello…”

“What’s your business here, stranger?” the guard demanded.

Wondering what he did to offend the gentlemen, Jahaan hurried to pull the letter from his backpack and held at out at arms length to the guard, slowly edging closer to the gate with his eyes fixated on the angry canine.. “Um, I have a letter from Sir Tiffy?”

It wasn’t a question, but that was the most pacifistic way he could voice the phrase. He’d already been almost eaten alive by one dog in recent memory - he didn’t want to make it two.

Snatching the letter from his hand, the guard examined the seal closely. Gruffly, he told Jahaan to wait there while he left go inside the Guild. The dog remained, teeth baring, eyes deadly.

Managing a weak smile, Jahaan whispered, “W-Who’s a good boy…?”

It did not have the desired effect.

Five terrifying minutes later, the guard returned to his post. Grabbing onto the dogs leash, he pulled him out of the way as he heaved the metal gates open, saying nothing as he let Jahaan pass.

Sending a smug look at the canine over his shoulder, he marched past the beautifully trimmed hedges and into the Guild.

As soon as he entered, an older gentleman with a long white beard and a full set of rune armour met him inside the doorway.

“Welcome,” the man warmly greeted. “My name is Radimus Erkle. I’m the grand vizier to this fine establishment. I apologise on behalf of Steven - he’s new here. I keep telling him to loosen up, but will he listen?”

Radimus laughed, and Jahaan followed by chuckling nervously.

Luckily, Radimus continued the conversation before the silence became awkward. “I read your note from Sir Tiffy. It’s a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Jahaan Alsiyad-Abut. Am I saying that right?”

Confirming he was, Jahaan held out his hand to shake. “An honour to meet you too, Sir Erkle.”

“Oh, I’m no knight - just an old man who loves an adventure. Now, Sir Tiffy sent you here for a reason. Come this way…”

Through a large oak door and two grand hallways, the pair came to a marble staircase, surrounded on all sides by portraits of adventurers of old, famous ones that Jahaan had only ever heard about in campfire tales.

Motioning downwards, Erkle handed Jahaan back the note and said, “Give this to Fionella and she’ll take care of you. It’s only one floor down. Whatever you do, DON’T go down to the second floor.”

“O-Okay,” Jahaan, still quite frankly baffled by it all, carefully made his way down the stairs. The darkness started to increase the further he descended, but fortunately candlesticks were dotted around to guide the way. He made it to the right floor, a quiet hallway with a handful of quaint little doors on either side, and one at the end that was helpfully labelled ‘Fionella’s’.

Jahaan started to edge out of the stairwell, but then hesitated. Looking over his shoulder, then quickly all around him, he slinked back into the stairwell and, as quietly as he could, tiptoed down to the basement floor. A gloved hand made for the door handle...

A roar, so furious and ungodly it chilled Jahaan to the core. The sounds of sword meeting flesh, clashing with armour. A fall, a dive - who knows!

A hand tentatively hovered over the handle of his sword as he toyed with the idea of investigating further, against all sense and reason. That idea was stopped dead in his tracks by a hand on his shoulder, causing Jahaan to swing around in shock.

An unimpressed Radimus motioned to the staircase. “This floor is off limits. It’s only for the most worthy of legends.”

Guiltily, Jahaan hung his head and trudged back up the staircase, feeling like a child with their hand caught in the cookie jar.

Radimus pointed to the far end of the hallway, watching with a hawk-like glare to make sure Jahaan didn’t deviate from his course again.

After knocking on the door twice, a call came from the other side. “Come on in.”

The dismal looking room was nothing too spectacular. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this… no, this looked like your average storage room. A few chairs were lazily placed at the back of the room, while a dusty wooden desk separated Fionella from her guests. Behind the brunette were a large amount of tattered crates and cardboard boxes, victims to time and age. Blowing a strand of hair from her eyes, she asked, “Can I help you?”

Uncrumpling the note, Jahaan handed it to her. “Uh, yeah… I was told by Sir Tiffy to come to you with this.”

Adjusting her glasses, Fionella squinted at the handwriting. Occasionally, she glanced up at Jahaan before returning to the note. Sometimes she looked confused, sometimes impressed, and once she even laughed. Utterly confused, Jahaan resisted the urge to ask her to elaborate any further.

Shrugging, she screwed the note up and tossed it behind her. Jahaan held out a hand, opening his mouth to protest, but Fionella cut him off, saying, “Wait here.”

Leaving his mouth hung agape, he did as he was told. At this point, he was just resigned to whatever came next.

A couple of minutes and a large clattering later, Fionella emerged from behind a load of crates and boxes with a two long, thin crates of her own. Heaving it up on the table, she wiped the sweat from her brow and muttered, “I really need to build up my strength…”

She peered around the obstruction and drearily announced to Jahaan, “These are yours, courtesy of Sir Tiffy and the Legends’ Guild. Enjoy.”

Jahaan looked at the box, then regarded Fionella, hesitantly.

“What are you waiting for, Saradomin’s return?” she chided, ushering him to take the boxes from her. Sliding them into his arms, he thanked the young woman and staggered out into the hallway to unbox these ‘gifts’.

When he pried them open, he couldn’t quite believe his eyes.

The first crate held two rune swords, unscathed and unparalleled in their craftsmanship, with a double-sheathed belt. They put his second-hand scimitar to shame. Carefully, he put the belt on and tucked them into their sheaths, feeling like the most powerful man in Gielinor. Weaponry really shouldn’t give anyone such a rush, but man, Jahaan felt like he was ten feet tall. In truth, he was never a fan of scimitars - they were an odd shape, and Jahaan awkwardly found himself slicing too far from his target as he misjudged the curvature of the blade. He noted that Sir Tiffy hadn’t provided him a shield, and wondered if that was intentional or not. After all, during the battle, his shield spent half the time on the ground. Kiteshields were so damn cumbersome when fighting human-like enemies. Trolls were one thing, and yes, when he managed to utilise it in time, it helped to protect him against the ice giants. However, Jahaan had always favoured speed and agility - why take the brunt of an attack when you have the ability to dodge out of the way entirely?

In the other crate was a yew shieldbow with about two dozen rune-tipped arrows and a leather quiver. Now, he wasn’t a bad archer, but he was no Ozan. At least now I have a reason to practice, he thought to himself as he repositioned the bow over his shoulders and adjusted the quiver

It was when he made it about twenty feet from the gates, the angry dog and grumpy guard in his wake, that he didn’t know what to do next. On his way out, he’d asked Radimus if Ozan had passed through, to which he replied that he left with Ariane two days ago, the pair making towards East Ardougne. Deciding that was a good a place as any to start, Jahaan thought he’d try and catch them before they moved on again.

“Hey mate, hol’ up!” a voice called out. When Jahaan turned around, he saw a sprightly young man chasing after him. Once he made it close enough, Jahaan noted the man sported a black feathered hat and an unshaven face. His clothing was just as unkempt as his facial hair, and from the bags around his eyes, it was easy to deduce that the man didn’t quite understand the concept of a proper night’s sleep.

“Can I help you?” Jahaan inquired, smiling amusedly at the poor man that was now doubled over, trying to catch his breath. The young man signalled for him to be given a minute’s respite.

“Whoa nelly,” he exhaled, deeply. “I really need to get in shape, yes I do. I can dig and dig and dig, but nope, runnin’ takes it right out of me, yes it does.”

Jahaan motioned over to the large pit the man had emerged from. “Don’t tell me you dug that all by yourself.”

“Why, yes sir, yes I did! Lost me some five good shovels. But it’ll be worth it when the museum sees what I bring ‘em, yes it will!”

“You work for the museum in Varrock?”

The man nodded eagerly. “Jus’ an apprentice for now, but oh boy, when they see what I’ve got! Oh boy! They’s always laughing at me, you see, for chasin’ this ‘dream’, they call it. They say I’m not ‘museum material’, but they just don’t get it! I here think I’ve just stumbled on one o’ the biggest historical discoveries of all time, yes I have!”

This peaked Jahaan’s interest. “What do you reckon you’ve found?”

“Something game-changin’!” The man cheered, clapping his hands together. “I reckon this is got something to do with Guthix himself! I’ve been studyin’ the area for so long, and I got me some help from those druids in Taverley, and they can vouch for this here energy that be coming from that hole. I uncovered a door an’ everything! Come look!”

Unable to resist the curiosity, Jahaan tagged along as the man bounded over to the substantial hole he’d dug for himself. True to his word, an ancient stone door had been uncovered, with leaf-like patterns carved into the frame.

He couldn’t help but be impressed. “Very nice. So, what’s inside?”

This is where the man’s enthusiasm skipped a beat, and a large frown overwhelmed his features. “That’s the thing, I haven’t gone through yet. I’ve been trying to open the door for ages, yes I have, but it ain’t no use. Maybe I just haven’t got the muscles, y’know?”

“So, you want me to help you open the door?”

“That, and more, if you’re up for it. Ya see, I ain’t no adventurer like yourself. You gotta take into account all the usual dangers of openin’ up ancient tunnels… traps, boulders, cave spiders, undead monsters… I thought it might be best if I’d get someone from the Legends’ Guild to lend a hand, y’know? And I see YOU walking out, Mr Jahaan Alsiyad-Abut!”

Jahaan crinkled his brow. “You know me?”

“Why, of course!” the man beamed. “Word travels around these parts, yes sir! You're one of Sir Tiffy's men! He only bothers around with the best, you know.”

Jahaan smiled, feeling his ego get a little cuddle. If this man planned on charming him into helping, he was doing a good job. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Oh!” the man held out his hand, then quickly withdrew it to wipe some soil off his palm, before offering it again. “Name’s Orlando. Orlando Smith. So, you in?”

Grinning, Jahaan seized the man’s hand. “Sure!”

“FANTASTIC!” Orlando looked like he was going to explode with glee. He practically leapt down into the hole with Jahaan in tow. When he placed his hand on the crevice acting as the door’s handle, Jahaan noted how warm it felt to the touch, almost hot, and it vibrated ever so slightly upon contact. Much to the surprise of Jahaan, and the awe of Orlando, the former managed to heave the stone door open without throwing his back out in the process. Orlando lit a couple of torches, handing one to Jahaan, before they both stepped inside, Jahaan apprehensively, but it seemed if Orlando had abandoned all previous reservations as he skipped into the cave.

“This is it! By golly, this is it! Oh boy, the museum’s gonna be so chuffed with me! We gotta take something back with us. Ooo but we can’t disturb anything… aww shucks… Still, this is incredible, yes it is!”

Inside, the stone walls were covered in carvings, floor to ceiling. Much of it was a strange language Jahaan did not understand, but Orlando said it looked familiar to him. The rest were drawings, figures etched in time into the stone. Many of the figures had been engulfed by the plant growth, but among the visible carvings, Jahaan recognized the snake, Juna, Guardian of the Tears of Guthix, alongside a giant insect. It seemed Guthix held them in high regard.

In the corner of the room was what appeared to be an inactive soul obelisk, yet when leaning in closer, Jahaan noted a faint hum could still be heard coming from it. Scattered on the floor next to it were broken remnants of vials, perhaps from the early days of herblore. The odd scrap of withered herb could be seen in amongst the shattered glass.

“Hey Jahaan, take a look at this,” Orlando urged, ushering Jahaan towards a cracked plinth. Atop it laid the remains of a blade, still emitting sparks. Pieces were undoubtedly missing, rendering it irreparable, even if it was safe to touch.

With a furrowed brow, Orlando muttered, “How strange. What we know of Guthix indicates he was a pacifist; completely against violence, yes he was. The sword looks like it has been recovered, and for it to be placed in such a prominent position... there are so many things we could learn! Still, my mother warned me against touchin’ glowin’ weapons of the gods, yes she did, so let’s leave that one be for a while…”

The two continued to examine the ruin, Orlando marvelling at every little thing he saw. After a while, he called Jahaan over again, remarking, “This here wall don’t match the other walls, no sir. I think there might be somethin’ beyond here.”

Pulling off some of the plant life that had been residing on the obscure looking wall, Jahaan marvelled at the intricate patterns carved into the stone, far more detailed than anything else inside the temple. Somewhat awe-struck, he couldn’t help but trace his finger across them. Alas, he was broken from his relaxing activity when the door creaking open by itself. The next room opened out in front of them, the walls similar to the last, but this time grass covered the floor, somehow alive despite the darkness. Six statues holding torches were dotted across the room, automatically lighting themselves once they sensed the presence of intruders. Orlando didn’t even get to marvel at his surroundings before a loud groan emanated from the far wall, startling him, and a shrill alarm pierced through the air.

Suddenly, three rock-like beasts prised themselves from the walls, each looking like fractured pieces of stone held together by tree bark. In place of an eye, they had the symbol of Guthix, and each was glowing a different colour. One red, one green, and one blue.

Hesitantly, Jahaan drew one of his swords from his belt. “Orlando, stay behind me.”

“WARNING: Mahjarrat lifeform detected. Mahjarrat will not be allowed passage. Retreat before further action,” the creatures ordered in unison. Their voices were bellowing and husky, fitting for their imposing stature.

“But we’re not Mahjarrat!” Jahaan cried, desperately, retreating back a few steps as the beasts advanced on him.

This proved futile as the creatures repeated, “WARNING: Mahjarrat lifeform detected. Mahjarrat will not be allowed passage. Retreat before further action.”

Jahaan steadied his grip on his sword, glaring at Orlando out of the corner of his eye as the man cowered behind him. “Orlando, is there something you’re not telling me?”

“No! We're humans, we are!” Orlando maintained, a whimper in his cracking voice. “Please, we mean you no harm! They must be malfunctioning or somethin’ I tell ya!”

“ESCALATED WARNING: Mahjarrat lifeform remains. The threat will be eliminated. Retreat before further action.”

“Orlando, get back into the other room,” Jahaan warned, his eyes narrowing on the automatons that continued to creep up on him.

Desperately, Orlando pleaded, “Please, listen to us! We’re peaceful, I tell ya!”

“WARNING INEFFECTIVE. ACTION: Mahjarrat lifeform remains. Prepare for elimination.”

Jahaan’s eyes grew wide as one of the eyes of the beasts started glowing. “They aren’t peaceful. Get down!”

DISCLAIMER:

As Of Gods and Men is a reimagining, retelling and reworking of the Sixth Age, a LOT of dialogue/characters/plotlines/etc. are pulled right from the game itself, and this belongs to Jagex.

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[dandrubert]

“Funny” Stuff

Here’s some random stuff that makes me laugh…

People who type defiantly when they mean definitely - “I will defiantly be at your birthday party!”

Occasionally when I’m out and about with my mom, we’ll drive through the cemetery to say hi and check on the flowers and stuff on a few different graves. As soon as we pull in, she always turns the radio down. I know it’s a respect thing. But also, like…well, you know…I don’t think you’re gonna disturb anybody.

Dad jokes. I know they’re cheesy and dumb! They’re supposed to be! Don’t you get it? THAT’S WHAT MAKES THEM FUNNY! Don’t act like you’re too good for a well-crafted dad joke! Puns, too.

Customers at the liquor store would always ask me if we had something by chance. “Hey, do you guys happen to have any Bud Lt by chance?” Yeah, we weren’t planning on carrying Bud Lt, but the truck delivered some on accident, so now we happen to have some by chance! Could you just ask a question like an adult, by chance?

I like when people have notification sounds or ringtones that sound like someone just answered correctly on a game show. When that happens right after I say something sarcastic…the best! “See? Told ya!”

You know how sometimes people make a comment on a Facebook post and for some reason it posts the same exact thing twice? Even though I know it’s just some kind of glitch, I like to imagine they were really passionate about that comment. So, I reply that same exact thing. If I’m lucky, other people will come in and say the same thing, too. I know…what a little stinker!

I almost always walk around the house as I get dressed. Like, when I’m putting on my belt or my shirt or whatever. Occasionally I’ll pull my shirt over my head as I’m walking through a doorway and end up walking face first into a wall. This has happened more than a few times.

I like pictures where one person clearly thought they were in danger of being out of frame, so they lean in real hard toward the middle. Almost 100% of the time, they were already well within the shot and now just look like they have some sort of spinal deformity.

On the subject of pictures, taking a video of someone who thinks you’re taking a still photo can be very entertaining. I remember doing this at least 10 years ago to Brent on a late-night train ride back to our hotel in Chicago. And I also remember thinking why don’t more people do this? It was several years until I found a bunch of videos on YouTube and realized that people do do this!

Any time people say do do.

One of the last times Alec Baldwin hosted SNL, he was in a skit where he was supposed to say “chili cook out.” Instead, he accidentally said “cookie chill out.” Now I can’t hear the phrase chili cook out, or just the word cookie, without thinking about how awesome a cookie chill out would be.

The first, and still only, time I ever ate at a Popeye’s Chicken was in Michigan City. Brent and I were on our way to the outlet mall. I think we were still in high school. There was only one other group there – a family sitting a couple tables away from us in the front of the restaurant. At one point, the little girl who had been pounding pink lemonade suddenly got up and headed to the bathroom in the back of the restaurant. She made it as far as the exit before she stopped and out of nowhere projectile vomited undigested pink lemonade all over the rug inside the door. That wasn’t particularly funny. But when I turned and looked back at Brent, he was frozen in mid-bite of mashed potatoes with a hilarious look of shock and disgust on his face. If you know Brent, you might know what look I’m talking about.

The word ashtray always makes me think of trash in pig latin.

I get a kick out of the old guys that have a clever response for every little bit of small talk you can throw at ‘em. You just know they’ve been working on their routine for probably longer than I’ve been alive.

Ice cream companies put out “warm” flavors in the winter, like hot chocolate and…..I can’t think of any more right now, but I know I’ve seen others. Whatever, you know what I mean!

A few summers ago, Sam and I went golfing at Sprig-O-Mint one Sunday afternoon. We pulled up to the first tee box and there was a guy waiting to tee off by himself. He asked if we wanted to play with him. My initial thought was “A stranger? Hell no!” Naturally, Sam said “Yeah, sure.” Ok whatever, I guess we’ll play with Alan today. Not like I could overrule him at that point. At the time, Sam had this driver that sounded so loud and cheap when he would hit the ball. It wasn’t actually that cheap, but it definitely wasn’t top of the line either. It had the words “raw distance” written on it. Pretty cheesy. So, we were joking about it like we usually did, and Alan chimed in with “Well, you get what you pay for.” Burn!!! And that made my slight discomfort worth it to see Sam get owned by a chain smoking, pre-diabetic divorcee stranger that traveled down from Granger just to play at a mediocre course in Bremen for some reason. Alan, wherever you are, I’ll never forget your mysterious, slightly creepy ass.

Back in high school, Jon Slein and I would do this thing where I would be driving and when another car was coming toward us, he would take the wheel and I would reach out the window and adjust the side mirror with both hands. I’ve still never seen anyone else do that. Probably for good reason, because I don’t know if that ever freaked anyone out even a little bit, but it was pretty funny to us.

The first time I ever had Chick-fil-A was during my one semester at IU in Bloomington. They had one in the basement of the library. I would go there for lunch, pick up a #1 or some nuggets then go to Kral’s dorm and watch old SNL episodes on Comedy Central. That was the only reason I was ever in that library, which might explain why I went from National Honor Society in high school to a 0.56 GPA! Yeah, 0.56! But it’s cool. I got it up to 3-point-something by the time I was done, 15 years later.

Well, there’s that! Let’s do it again sometime, shall we?

[danyka-fendyr]

Scar Tissue Chapter 2: Dynamic Du-OH- A Sudden Realization

A/N: I’m posting this without editing because I hate myself. I will eventually come back and fix my many sins. Tagging @writingtheworks the works again. Do I think that Bruce Wayne invites his butler to family dinners? Yes, yes I do, and Gotham’s snooty societal standards can’t stop me or him. Take that you elitists. Rorie was exhausted. You really couldn’t blame her. She’d been listening to Jason monologue Romeo and Juliet repeatedly for about an hour now. She loved her best friend, but she was ready to stab Shakespeare. She understood this was his masterpiece, but did he have to do this to her?

“Jay, I promise you, you will get the part. The first 5 times, heck, the first 10 times, this was the most beautiful performance I had ever seen in my life,” I told him.

Jason broke character, collapsing out of a dramatic pose, arm extended, head held up, looking to an imaginary balcony.

“You cried the first time,” he said, grinning.

Rorie had never seen someone so pleased over her tears. ...Well, okay, that wasn’t necessarily completely true, but she’d fought the Joker, alright? He was pretty sick, and not in the good way.

“Yes, because it was amazing. We’ve been over this. You are amazing,” she said.

Jason blushed under the praise, his neck, cheeks and ears tinting pink. When Jason blushed, he blushed with his whole head. It was sort of cute. Or at least, Rorie assumed it would be cute if you were like, into that kind of stuff. Rorie, of course, was not.

“Anyway, you should try to get some sleep. We have patrol tonight. Plus, you wouldn’t want to look burned out for your audition. It’s no good having a Romeo who looks sleep deprived,” Rorie tried to reason with him.

“What if he’s sleep deprived because he’s been up all night thinking about his Juliet, and how she refuses to audition, despite Alfred’s best efforts,” Jason teased.

“And you. Don’t forget you,” Rorie sighed. 

Alfred and Jason hadn’t gotten off her back about this since they first started holding auditions for Romeo and Juliet. Rorie refused on the principle that the characters made a long series of stupid decisions ending in a tragedy that could have been completely avoidable. Jason had countered with the fact that he had caught her reading it out loud, rather passionately, mind you, when they had been assigned the story for English class. It wasn’t Rorie’s fault that the story was still emotionally compelling, despite entirely lacking logic. Juliet admittedly had some pretty lines.

“This is too cliché. Why couldn’t the school play be something prettier, like Wuthering Heights?” Rorie objected.

“Your obsession with Wuthering Heights will never end, will it?” Jason asked.

“The writing is beautiful Jason!” Rorie cried, more passionate even then when she was playing the part of Juliet.

“Maybe if you get the lead role this year they’ll choose it next year. You could get friendly with the Mrs. Dowly, convince her it would be a good idea.” Jason carefully dangled the carrot in front of his prey’s face.

There was a pregnant pause while Rorie considered.

“You really think so?” she questioned, shooting him an uncertain, slightly untrusting look.

Jason nodded, his enthusiasm making the gesture comical so that he resembled a bobble-head. “Absolutely! Mrs. Dowly always considers how her leads feel.” 

Jason would know. He was the theater teacher’s pet, and had been the lead many, many times. All the other theater nerds were jealous of him, if they didn’t absolutely hero worship him (something Rorie found ironically humorous, considering their nightlife).

Rorie sighed, the sound deeply resigned. In contrast, Jason whooped.

“I will only be auditioning,” she warned him.

“Absolutely,” Jason said.

“You will in no way try to convince Mrs. Dowly to show me any kind of special favor.”

“Of course not.” More bobble-headedness, this time a vigorous shake, like he was a wet dog.

“If I do, by some miracle, get the part, you will not gloat, tell me you knew it, or anything of the sort.”

At this, Jason pouted. Rorie glared.

“Can’t I be proud?” He gave her the puppy dog eyes.

He gave her the puppy dog eyes. Jason knew she couldn’t resist the puppy dog eyes.

“Fine. A little pride. But none while we’re in school!” Rorie caved.

“Yay!” Jason chirped, wrapping his arms around her, trapping hers by her side.

Rorie pouted, and Jason celebrated. It was at this moment that Bruce walked in, Alfred following closely behind with a curious expression on his face.

“What’s going on here?” There was a tone of deep, rich amusement to Bruce’s voice, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards in what was usually about as close as he came to a smile (unless he was playing the role of ‘Brucie Wayne’).

“Rorie’s going to audition for the school play!” Jason cheered.

“With conditions!” Rorie added, seeing the look of excited shock on Alfred’s face and the knowing approval on Bruce’s.

“Well, miss, I suppose we’ll have to get you in shape!” Alfred declared.

“Oh no.”

“O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name. Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I’ll no longer be a Capulet.”

“Wonderful, miss! The way you sigh it out is beautiful. Very wistful. Now if you could just make it a little bit less breathy,” Alfred instructed.

Rorie puffed a sigh, and Jason tried not to laugh at her. She looked frustrated. Not as frustrated as she could be, since she wasn’t doing math, but her hair was messy and her posture slumped, face red from trying to hold back an oncoming temper tantrum. Alfred had this tendency to sometimes work out the details a little too much when it came to Shakespeare, or really any kind of play or production. He was a man of the theater indeed. 

Jason decided Rorie might need a rescue.

“Maybe I could work with her for a bit Alfred. You could take a break, maybe make some snacks?” he suggested, knowing Alfred would never leave drama without a specific task and purpose.

“Cookies?” Rorie asked, a forlorn hope swimming in her eyes.

“Ah! Of course! You lot do look as though you could use something to munch on. It will raise the spirits!” Alfred clapped his hands, looking as invigorated as he always did when he was allowed within range of fine art. “I’ll prepare some fruit, and perhaps some cookies if I feel it is warranted.”

By that Jason was pretty sure Alfred meant that Rorie ate too many cookies and that she was going to get cavities. He was trying to be nice right now though, since it was obvious that Rorie was seriously considering dropping out of the school play.When she got the part, the entire household had been elated. Well, Jason and Alfred had been elated, and Bruce had been smugly pleased. Emphasis on smug. That was his adopted daughter, after all.Jason was pretty sure that if ‘Brucie Wayne’ wasn’t supposed to be keeping up his eligible bachelor status, Bruce would have posted his pride all over ever social media platform he knew how to work. Jason’s phone pinged, and he checked his notifications.

Scratch that. Bruce wasn’t able to keep it in anymore now that he had not one, but two children in theater. He had just made the dorkiest post Jason had ever seen in his life on Twitter. 

“So proud of @jtodd and @roreo for scoring roles in the school play! I look forward to seeing them play Romeo and Juliet, respectively. If you have the time, come down to @gothamacademy and watch. #Illbesittingfrontrow”

Jason hoped none of the other kids at school saw that. Jason knew every one of the other kids at school had seen that, even the ones who weren’t theater geeks. Jason was pretty sure any kind of a reputation he had was gone now.

“Oh no,” Rorie groaned.

“Oh no what, Miss?” Alfred said, poking his head into the room at the first sound of oncoming disaster.

Rorie extended her phone to him, letting him see the tweet Jason himself had just been looking at.

“All the kids at school will see this, Alfred! We’re done for.” Rorie exchanged a look of horror with Jason.

Alfred looked thoughtful.“We shall see, miss.”

And see they did. 

Arriving at school the next day, Rorie did her utmost to go incognito. Sunglasses and a dark hoodie obscured her figure, and she kept her head bowed as she walked through the halls. Jason didn’t bother with this. His strategy was to not show any kind of weakness.

He strutted down the halls, trying to appear more confident than ever before, his hair slicked back with gel he had stolen from Bruce a while back and his favorite leather jacket on. He would have been wearing sunglasses, but Rorie stole his coolest pair.

As it turned out, Jason’s strategy worked better, unfortunately for Rorie. Some of the boys tried to pick on him, it was true, but he just ignored them. If you looked closely enough, you might be able to see that he was riled up, but only if you knew him well. He kept his anger close and in check. He could always exact revenge later if he still thought they were worth it.

Rorie was taunted mercilessly though, since she reacted a little volatiley to the whole thing. The second someone had insinuated that her rich daddy bought her spot, she was spitting words that were dangerously close to obscenities, a seething pot ready to boil over. Jason had swept in several times that day to save her when it looked like she might not be able to control herself. In thanks, she gave him his sunglasses back.

Now, Rorie was sitting in the library, the only place where people would leave her alone, it seemed. She was reading through Jane Eyre again, trying to distract herself from the snake’s nest of anxiety, self-doubt, and bitter, petty rage boiling in her head. It wasn’t working that well.

It worked less well when Amanda Bixby sat next to her. Rorie didn’t dislike Amanda particularly, but she also didn’t particularly like her. Amanda was...Well, Amanda was a bit of an airhead. She didn’t mean to be, but she just happened to be that one girl that never thought about anything but makeup and boys. There was nothing particularly wrong with this mindset, but it simply didn’t mesh with Rorie’s more practical attitude. 

“So, Jason’s like, your brother, right?” Amanda said, her tone friendly yet suspiciously slimy sounding to Rorie.

“Yeah, I guess. More of a best friend, really.” Rorie shrugged.

“But you’re super close, yeah?” Amanda confirmed.

“Well yeah. We live in the same house.” Rorie didn’t feel it necessary to mention that they had shared a bathroom until last year when she had demanded Bruce let her have her own. 

Rorie was prepared for a plethora of things. Amanda was into theater, so it was entirely possible that she was hoping Rorie would be able to share some of Jason’s acting secrets with her. Or, it could be that she needed help with her English homework, something Jason also excelled in. As it turned out, Rorie was woefully unprepared for what actually happened.

“So what kind of girl does he usually go for?” Amanda asked.

Rorie choked a little bit. “What?”

“Like, does he have a type?” She twirled a strand of long brown hair around her finger.

“Umm….I don’t really know. He doesn’t talk to me about girls,” Rorie said, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable.

“Yeah, but I mean, you’ve got to know something about his girlfriends. Are they tall? Short? Blondes, brunettes? C’mon, gimme something here,” Amanda said.

In truth, Rorie was unsure that Jason had ever even had a girlfriend. He was only 15 after all. 15 was a bit young for a girlfriend, wasn’t it? Rorie felt like 15 was young.

“Why do you ask? I mean, it’s not like Jason’s particularly attractive or anything.” Rorie laughed nervously.

“Are you kidding me? He’s a total dreamboat. All the girls know it. Plus, have you ever seen his arms when he takes off that leather jacket?” Amanda bit her lip in a way that Rorie definitely did not like. “I bet he’s ripped. Not to mention that he’s tall. And he’s only going to get taller you know.”

Amanda was clearly not in the building anymore. Her eyes had glazed over dreamily, and Rorie took that as her cue to be anywhere but where she presently was. Sneakily, she made her escape, mumbling under her breath about some urgent play preparation she had to do.

Rorie raced out of the library so fast it was almost superhuman, forgetting to put her sunglasses back on as she went. They were perched on top of her head when she crashed into someone, causing them to clatter to the floor, and her to nearly follow. Fortunately for her, someone had good reflexes and caught her, a warm, firm hand holding her back and pressing her against a lean, muscular torso.

“I am so sorry, you have no idea how mortified I am, rea-” Rorie stopped short when she realized that the person who was holding her was rather familiar.

She pulled back, peering into their face to find none other than Jason Todd himself. Rorie wanted to say “speak of the devil,” but she was a bit distracted at the moment, because at it turned out, it would seem that Amanda Bixby was right. Jason Todd was a dreamboat.Rorie was unsure how she hadn’t noticed it before. It wasn’t like anything had significantly changed between now and an hour again, when Rorie had last seen Jason. However, now that it had been mentioned to her, he had very nice, well-defined cheekbones, a strong jaw, incredibly long black lashes, and the prettiest pair of blue eyes Rorie had ever seen in her life. She swallowed heavily as she realized that, prior to knowing who was holding her up, she had been appreciating their toned body structure as well.

“Careful there, Rorie. You’ll get hurt.” Jason smiled at her, revealing a blinding white set of perfectly straight teeth that seemed intent on sinking themselves into Rorie’s heart.

Oh no. Oh no.

Opening night had finally come, and Jason was bouncing around with excitement. He had no reason to worry. He had done this dozens of times before, and he had every confidence in his leading lady.

He was watching her right now, mumbling her lines under her breath and coughing as hairspray was applied rigorously to her carefully created Shakespearean hair. 

“Oh, Romeo, oh Romeo,” Rorie said, rocking back and forth slightly, to the deep consternation of the girl working on her hair.

“Actually,” Jason said, watching himself appear in the mirror behind her, already in full costume, hair done, “it’s ‘Oh Romeo, Romeo’.”

“I’m gonna fail. I’m gonna fail in front of everyone, and they’ll all laugh, and this will be the end of my acting career, and I’ll have to switch schools.” Her eyes, previously closed, snapped open. “I’ll have to switch schools Jason. I’ll have to go to a boarding school in Scandinavia where nobody knows my name.”

“You’ll be fine,” Jason reassured her, placing both his hands on her shoulders and shooing the irate amateur hairdresser off.

“But what if I’m not?” Rorie asked desperately.

“Then I’ll fail even more epically. I’ll say lines from Napoleon Dynamite instead, and then I’ll trip and fall on my face, and then I’ll roll over and start making snow angels, except there will be no snow, at which point I will have made my first mistake as it is obvious that one cannot make snow angels without no snow.”

“That is the stupidest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Rorie dead-panned.

“See! It works!” Jason grinned broadly, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Rorie, on her part, tried to look slightly less miserable.

“You’re on in 5,” someone informed him as they passed by.

Rorie gave him an unsure look, seeking a few last moments of reassurance.

Jason walked around until he was facing her, crouching so he could look her right in the eye. “You’re gonna be great, don’t worry.”

He smoothed down a few stray pieces of her hair, giving her one last strong, certain smile before heading to the wings. It was showtime.

Acts 1-4 went flawlessly. Despite her nerves, Rorie was a natural on stage. She sounded like Shakespeare had written her himself, and Jason was matching her ever move. They were a perfect pair, naturally, and they had the kind of trust most lead actors could probably only wish for. This came as a package deal with the many shared near-death experiences.

It was Act 5 where things began to get sticky. Specifically, the death scene. Everything had been going fun. They had rehearsed this scene in bits and pieces plenty of times before, and everything was timed perfectly. The grief they portrayed was stunningly believable, the laboured breaths and the hasty tears working together to paint a picture of gut-wrenching agony. Jason had caught a glimpse of Dick crying in the audience.

Specifically, it was Act 5, scene 3, line 125 that was giving Jason a good deal of trouble. He had said all the lines leading up to it, and now he found himself agonizingly close to a “dead” Rorie with the task of kissing her.

He had known, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he would have to kiss her for this performance. Maybe some tiny part of him had even looked forward to it, entirely without his knowledge or consent. They hadn’t practiced this particular scene, however, and Jason had conveniently forgotten about it until now. Or rather, he had been making a conscious effort not to think about it at all.

He hovered over her, his mouth inches away from hers. She was so warm underneath him, hair splayed out and hands neatly folded over her stomach, eyes lightly shut. Jason tried to steady his heart rate, failing miserably, and after running through a plethora of alternative scenarios in his mind, each more wild than the last, he determined that he would just have to do it. If she hated him afterwards, there was nothing he could do about it.

Gently, he connected their lips. It was like a revival. Her lips were soft and warm against his, and she tasted like oranges and cinnamon. Her body, almost unconsciously, craned into him, kissing back so softly and subtly that the audience couldn’t have noticed, but Jason most definitely did. Without thinking, one hand reached into her hair, cradling her head as he kissed her like Romeo would kiss Juliet, like a man would kiss his lover with his last dying breath, slightly clumsy, but intimate and gentle, with a fervor Mrs. Dowly had probably not foreseen.

He broke away, rushing through his poison scene and dying as quickly as possible. It felt fitting, since he was pretty sure he was already dead. Then, it was Rorie’s turn. What she did next was not entirely expected.

She worked her way through her lines with an untold urgency, weeping at the sight of her Romeo lying dead below her. Her performance was like nothing Gotham Academy had ever seen before, as emotionally charged as it was. And then, he broke from script. She kissed Jason.

It was similar to the first time, but less clumsy, and Jason nearly broke character out of sheer shock. He didn’t have the time though, with the brevity of the kiss. It was hard and fast, and then she stabbing herself with a fake knife as ripples of surprise waved through the audience.

The last few scenes were played out, and everyone took their final bows. Jason could see Dick sobbing at this point, overcome by emotion. Jason felt similarly overcome, unsure of what exactly had just happened. He rushed his way backstage, finding Rorie in the mess that was the closing of opening night. He grabbed her arm, whirling her around.

“Rorie,” he breathed out her name, still stunned even now.

She turned pink, staring at her feet as she answered. “Yes.”

“You kissed me,” he stated.

“You kissed me first.”

“On script,” he said.

“Are you mad?” Now she looked up at him, twinges of hurt flecking her eyes and accenting an ocean of bright green worry and fear.

“Am I mad? No, I’m definitely no mad.” Now, Jason grinned. He grinned like a fool. “Just wondering if you’ll do it again.”

Rorie smiled shyly, starting to look as giddy as Jason now felt.“At least buy me dinner first,” she said, mischief in her eyes and tugging at her mouth as she shrugged in feigned nonchalance.

“I’m pretty sure dinner is on Bruce tonight, but if you think I’m not going to buy you dinner at the next available opportunity then you are very, very wrong,” Jason said.

Rorie laughed, reaching up to hug him in his favorite way, the only way he ever wanted to be hugged by her ever again.

“Deal, boy wonder,” she whispered in his ear.

Dinner was awkward. Dinner way very, very awkward.

It wasn’t that Bruce disapproved, after the two stumbled through an explanation of their budding relationship. It wasn’t that Alfred disapproved, or Dick, even. No. Horrifyingly, they were all delighted.

“What do you mean you knew?” Jason and Rorie shrieked in unison.

Bruce tried to bring the table back to some form of decorum, since Dick’s exclamation of, “I knew it!” and small victory dance coupled with Rorie and Jason’s indignant screams was slightly out of place in one of Gotham’s nicest restaurants.

 “I mean, it was obvious. You two are always all blushy and cutesy around each other whenever I come over,” Dick explained, cutting into his steak.

“We are not!” Rorie protested, burying her face into her bouquet of brilliant red roses, of which it had turned the same hue.

Jason in turn felt like burying his face into the orchids he was currently holding for her, a gift from Dick. The roses were from Bruce, of course. Alfred had simply baked cookies back at home.

“I’m afraid you are, miss. It’s rather endearing, if it’s any comfort to you,” Alfred reassured.

“This is so embarrassing. You all knew?” Rorie said.

“And now the whole school knows, after that display.” Dick grinned. “You two got so lucky Mrs. Dowly didn’t tear you to pieces.”

As it happened, Mrs. Dowly had rather liked the show. She said that Rorie’s improv had been so impassioned Shakespeare should have written it into the original. Rorie had wilted into the very bottoms of her shoes, looking as though she were trying her best to melt into the floor.

A waiter came by to check on them as they were finishing up, Dick shoveling the last bites of his steak into his mouth. 

“Any dessert?” he asked politely, no doubt with good intentions.

“No!” Jason and Rorie shouted.

The last thing they wanted was more awkward dinner conversation.

“It would seem not,” Bruce said, smiling his, “people are watching,” smile. “We’ll just have the bill.”

“Yes, sir.” The waiter ran off to retrieve the bill, leaving Jason and Rorie to suffer once more.

“So how long had you been thinking about that kiss scene, huh Jay?” Dick asked, waggling his eyebrows.

Jason groaned, his face turning red in that full-flush way that he had about him. Rorie, on the other hand, decided to change tactics. If you can’t beat’em, join’em.

“You know, it’s kind of cute when you do that,” she said.

“What?” Jason asked, confused and slightly alarmed.

“Blush. You do it with your whole head. Neck, face, ears. It’s cute.” Rorie shrugged, trying to hide her own blush.

“Ewww, this is officially too sweet for me now,” Dick said, feigning a gag.

“Please Dick, try to behave like an adult,” Bruce said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

The waiter came by and Bruce quickly paid in cash, clearly having come prepared for an outing with his children. Rorie could only guess how enormous the tip was.

“Alfred?” Bruce said, raising his eyebrows as he looked at the man.

“I have already informed the valet that the car is to be brought around, sir,” Alfred said.

“Thank goodness, because I could use a good night’s sleep,” Bruce said.

Rorie and Jason grinned at each other. Bruce Wayne might get 8 hours, but his alter ego never did. It was time for the Bat to roam the streets of Gotham, Robin and Batgirl at his side. It was time to be a hero. 

[jackofftao]

Chenle High School AU!

Okay I know I haven't POSTED anyTHing In FOreveR and I meant to write a mx thing because ya know,,,,, concert

But idk Chenle is an actual CUTIE PIE AND HE IS MY BIAS HOW IS HE OLDER THAN ME BY LIKE A COUPLE OF MONTHS I’M YELLING PLEASE SEND HELP 

*clears throat*

so uh yeah,,, stan china line

I will have a mx scenario out soon,,,,,,,,,maybe 

LETS START:

So high school sucks but all of your friends are there so,, it’s cool for now,,,until midterms and finals

then everyone is sUFFeriNG

but like the weird stuff you see keeps you going ya know?

Like the one time that kid in 2nd period took out a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, and a jar of jelly then made a sandwich with it??

Or the Ap World teacher who once stopped you and your friends in the hallway to tell you how to take over a country in 5 easy steps

Your friends are also wild

Jisung is in your Lit class and your teacher assigns these writings

and everyone figured out that she only checks for completion and doesn't actually read them?

 Jisung wrote the entire lyrics of fergalicious for his assignment once and still got a 100 on it

He’s a little shit sometimes but he’s funny so you keep him around

and today he is back at his shenanigans again

he decided to write your number on a piece of paper with “Text me” written at the top and he said he was going to drop it in the hallway if you didn't give him the answers for the Bio homework

and your like “I spent 2 hours on just the front of the bio homework last night there is no way I'm giving them to you”

he just sat there “:) be like that then”

so when the bell rang he dropped the paper in the hallway

it was the bell signaling Lunch too so there were people everywhere and the paper was nowhere to be seen

you tried looking for it after the hallways cleared but ? it wasn't there ?

Jisung was at his lunch table and you ran up to it and sat down

“Jisung I've known you for a while and you won't let me live but jesus I tried looking for the paper and I can't find it, what have you gotten me into”

he just sat there eating his salad 

“So you gonna give me the Bio answers or what?”

7th period came around

math

the teacher was really chill tho

like she would talk about the notes for 15 minutes then that was it for the day and the rest of the class was basically free time

she never checked the homework either

so you were playing on your phone and then you got a text from a random number

and you just shut down 

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error message

curiosity got the best of you so you looked at it

from: Unknown number

“Hey uh this is a bit weird but I was walking to lunch and I found this paper on the floor that had a number and “Text me” written on it so I decided to text whoever you are while I'm bored in Bio”

Que your heart stopping

Might as well text back? what’s the worst that could happen?

To: Unknown Number

“Yeah sorry, my friend dropped my number in the hall because I wouldn't give him the Bio answers. I’m bored too, math am I right?”

From: Unknown Number

“Idk math is kinda cool, I like the numbers. Bio however? Gross. A jellyfish’s mouth is also its anus? I could have lived with out that information”

You decided to save their number because they seem cool,,, makes life interesting ya know

Bad news, their text made you giggle and Jisung is asking what your laughing at

“nOthIng”

“you wouldn't be laughing at nothing SPILL thE bEaNs”

so you told him

more bad news, now he won't let you live x2

but you keep on talking to this mystery person

neither of you really say who you are and its been a month

“You should really ask who they are, they seem cute. Plus it seems like you have a crush on them awwww”

“Shut up jisung”

after removing his hands from squishing your cheeks your phone got a notification

ding!

“AWWWW CUTEEEEE<<33 YOU’RE BLUSHING!!!”

“shUt uP JIsaNg :p”

“I told you not to call me jisang :(”

ding!

“..... ;) maybe you should come up with a cute nickname for this mystery person”

From: Mystery

“Helpppppp I didn't know we had bio homework last night and I didn't do it,, send answers please !!!! I’ll buy you a cookie!!”

From: Mystery

“HUrrY I have bio nExt PeRiOd PleasE”

Usually you don't give your answers to a n y o n e

but this mystery person seems nice and as silly as it seemed you started to possibly form a crush on the unknown person 

putting off doing math homework to text them

texting them constantly 

finding out a lot about them,,,,,and them finding out a lot about you

late nights talking with them

all this led to a tiny tiny huge crush and you had a soft spot for them

so you gave them the answers 

“hEy!! You never give me the bio answers!”

thats cuz you're a little shit

“:) idk what you're talking about jisang :))))))”

ding!

From: Mystery

“Thank You so so so so so so so so much <3!!!! Where should we meet so I can give you that cookie?”

“Dude that cookie is mine I helped set you two up”

“thats not how this works jisung”

so you and mystery person decide to meet up that Friday after school at the sign

que being nervous for two days

and que being REALLY REALLY nervous Friday

they said they would be wearing a green jacket 

so the last bell rung and you could care less about the cookie all you cared about was meeting this mystery person in a green jacket 

Over the past two days you wondered who they were

did you know them?

what did they look like?

How old are they!!!

you just hoped they were around your age

,,,,,,,,and cute

so you made it to the sign and there wasn't anybody there let alone someone in a green jacket

you looked around the immediate area and still no person wearing a green jacket

great, maybe it was a prank

you picked up your book bag and started to leave, you didn't want to look like more of a fool than you already did

but then there was this,,,, scream?

it sounded like a dolphin ?

but there was no zoo nearby ?

and it was getting closer ???????????

it sounded like the scream he did with the kite

So you turned around and there is an extremely loud boy in a green jacket running at full speed while screaming

everyone is looking at him

wait a minute--- green jacket ??

he is getting closer but isn't slowing down and tbh you are starting to worry because he's about to run straight into the-

mphHH

that was the sound of air being knocked out of you

this boy didn't run into the sign he ran into you

in a hug

a really warm hug

he’s also cute

and maybe part dolphin

so he pulls away and he just a little bit taller than you so you don't have to look up that much

and he’s smiling 

your heart just skipped a beat

this- this cute boy is the one I was texting ?????!??!?!!?!??

“Hey you are the mystery person who's friend left their number in the hall right?”

“And you are the mystery person who said they be at the sign in a green jacket?”

“Yeah,,, sorry about that. My bio teacher wanted to talk to me,, I fell asleep in class today BUT I got your cookie!!”

“Oh,, yeah it’s no problem! Thank you for the cookie, you really didn't have to”

“but I wanted to”

and he hands you the cooke

and you both kind of stand there??

“Go on try it! I made it myself!”

so you ate a piece and it was ,,, really good

so you ate the rest of it

“Dude that was a really good cookie oh my god you should be on a cooking show”

he just laughs 

and it sounds like a dolphin 

but he's cute and his dolphin laugh/scream is endearing 

its also hurts peoples ears because its so loud

“I brought a whole batch of them,,, we could eat them as I walk you home”

what a gentleman

“Oh I’m Chenle by the way”

“I’m Y/n”

he was loud the whole time he walked you home but it was cute

you might need a hearing aid but oh well it'd be worth it 

he was in the same grade as you even tho he was older

his birthday was a late one so

and when the both of you arrived at your door step his ears were red

“Here you can have the rest of the cookies, we can meet at the sign Monday so you can give the container back.”

“Thank you so much,,,,,,,, for everything” and you gave him a small smile despite the situation being awkward 

“It’s really nothing.”

and then he walked a little closer and kissed your cheek

“HAveAgreatWEEKenD!”

and he was off

running away screaming his dolphin laugh

you hoped his face was as red as yours

Monday comes around and there he is, running up to you screaming 

when is he not screaming

you swear he is the loudest boy you have ever met

he engulfs you in a hug again

“Here is your container”

“Oh thanks! here I’ll walk you home”

and when you reach your doorstep he kisses your cheek again and runs away screaming before you can do anything

so the next day the school bell rings and ding!

From: Dolphin boy <3

“We are meeting by the sign right?”

To: Dolphin boy <3

“Yeah”

Today you had a plan

when you reached your doorstep and you kissed his cheek first

Chenle.jpg

error message

Chenle is not responding at this moment sorry come back later

so you poke his other cheek and he just breaks out into a HUGE grin and hugs you

he laughs when he hugs you so now you can't hear anything lol

“so does this mean we are dating now?”

“If you don't mind?”

“I wouldn't mind at all”

You two do the same pattern everyday 

you eat lunch together with Jisung and he walks you home

Jisung now wants a cookie from Chenle as payment for helping get you two together 

but Chenle only ever gives cookies to you 

awwww

He claims it’s a special couple thing 

the end for now~

Gif not mine

I usually don't do end notes but

STAN MY BOY HERE 

STAN CHINA LINE

SHOW THEM LOVE

ty