#but wow it’s nice to have a show that’s even remotely positive

[smalltown-babygirl]

Officially entered my heartstopper era

[art-of-secret-dark-heart]

Imagine a yandere with a yandere writing blog

What if…. a yandere has a yandere writing blog?

note: more rambling for fun. Please don’t do toxic behaviors. Yes to showing supporting and being nice to writers/creators though! DNI if you’re a minor.

Content warnings: stalking, cyber bullying (not towards the love interest), and aggression.

—————————

Imagine a yandere writer who wants to be understood by others. Wants validation for their actions (maybe dubious/creepy actions, all done for wanting some sort of love from anyone, but never getting any). If having a bad day, they would also want to write it all out on their blog. It’s their own little space to let it all out. But they make it sound like it’s all fiction.

Soon they get all these likes, reblogs, comments, etc, it all makes them feel so good. (Well positive comments, in their mind…. excluding anything that even remotely hints that the yandere in the stories are creepy/gross etc).

Then in comes a reader who reaches out to them, who says something like, “oh wow, I wouldn’t mind if they kidnap me.❤️” (Doesn’t matter if it’s a joke or not). Fervently gushing over how cool/hot the yandere (from the stories) is etc. The yandere writer would pay extra attention to them. Search all that reader’s posts. Every single one. Maybe print them out (but definitely the comments) and hang them on their walls. It’ll be like a huge motivation wall. Definitely would print out any photos they could find of their budding interest.

Will be hit with a rush of motivation every time this particular reader comments on their stories, and so as to not disappoint, they will update whenever the reader wants. Even figuring out what times of the day this reader would be checking in to read their stories. Would leave their account signed on, so that every morning and throughout the day, they can right away check if their lovely reader is online.

If their beloved is a writer too, then they will read and write comments for every single posts. Huge wall of texts. Doesn’t matter if the post is a weird meme or a drunk one sentence/word post. Always got something good to say about all the posts.

If anyone says anything remotely related to a criticism (even good, well worded and intended ones), they will make that person’s time online be hellish. Such as going to extreme lengths to create several accounts to spread nasty rumors about that person. Finding out ways to shut down this “terrible” person’s accounts etc.

They would start having dedications made for their lovely reader (maybe now muse?). Going to start to make the main character look and act like the reader in their stories as well. Will somehow find out how their day was, so it can be incorporated into the stories. If someone was bothering their lovely reader, the yandere would have that person killed off in the stories. Painfully. Preferably by them, thus “saving” or “helping” the main character who is a stand in for their lovely reader. Soon their purpose for writing stories, becomes more “meaningful” to them. That they are selflessly doing this for their lovely amazing reader.

One day, maybe their lovely reader confides with the yandere writer about whatever difficulties they have been having. And maybe that’s why their yandere stories help them escape from those difficulties, giving them a moment of fun and… happiness. Maybe those problems are the same as the ones in the stories. This makes the yandere writer very happy. Happier than even passionately writing their stories. They can feel the trust (“Wow, you’re letting me know, that means I’m special”)… and… and there is someone who actually understands them! Finally! Someone who would definitely love them and not think they’re creepy at all….

Well, time to stop living vicariously through their writings, and turn them into reality. Maybe an author meet and greet is in order….

(Or maybe the reader has gone offline for awhile. Then in that case, it’s time to step back into the meatspace and personally find out face to face as to why this is happening. Like “How dare you leave me! After all that time and effort I put into writing those stories… just so you can be happy! Do you know how hard I search for you… Forcing me… out there… to search for you! I don’t even have the desire to write anymore… No… because now, all of my desire has gone to you…”)

[blysse-and-blunder]

In lieu of a week in the woods

sunday, august 27, 2023 ~ 11:30pm

just got back from 6+ days off the grid, swimming, drinking tea, porch sittin’, and generally revisiting old stomping grounds. somehow it still wasn’t long enough.

(you can add a read more on mobile now??!!)

Reading picked out some specific weird old trade paperbacks to read at the cottage, and successfully finished one: margaret atwood’s lady oracle. one of those books where I will be thinking about it forever, but not necessarily because I enjoyed it? good prose moments, good turns of phrase or moments of clear perception, but i found the main character sort of perplexing—the bits of old Toronto, vintage mid century canadian childhood and adolescence, were probably what will stick with me. That and the way that I think it was trying to get psychonanalytic but, in classic 80s feminist fiction style, it didn’t make a ton of sense. also the fatphobia? like, experimenting with the pov of someone with intense body dysmorphia / weight shaming / internalized fatphobia felt unempathetic? like i was supposed to be impressed or titillated or surprised by this choice, that the book would even consider having a main character who was fat. period typical, sure, part of the mid century setting, sure, but also like. gratuitous.

also finished italo calvino’s the baron in the trees, and a.k. larkwood’s the unspoken name, and started the audiobook for the long way to a small angry planet. Also began my harrow the ninth reread, and wow this book is good. and even more so when you can follow what’s happening.

listening only the fact that I did spend so long literally in the woods has prevented me from having in-depth thoughts and feelings about hozier’s unreal earth. more to come as I sit with it longer, but so far—strong positive feelings. some new ground, some old ground, and some things that bridge the two nicely. worth listening to with headphones or however you can pick up all the layers in the mix. I really like ‘Icarian carrion’ on this listen.

watching watched a couple of episodes of Star Trek: Strange New Worlds this evening, since being back— ‘lost in translation,’ and the lower decks cross-over. loved seeing boimler and mariner in the flesh, and the different gags they fit into that one, despite the fact that one of the things I’ve liked most about this season has been the show gradually giving time to some of the more philosophical questions trek can explore—but lower decks does that too, sometimes better, and these two episodes back to back fit pretty well.

playing it was a very boardgame forward week at the cottage— clue, PARKS, and a new one for me, shadows over Camelot. not an uncomplicated setup, but some of the tie-ins to actual arthurian themes (the grail quest keeps pulling players in but it will grind them up and spit them out! the next generation are the ones who survive!) caught and held my enjoyment when the different mechanics threatened to lose it. I also tuned in to d&d remotely for a bit, though my connection was bad, and my rig was rated ‘haunted’ by the other players. they could hear crickets over the voice chat 😌🌲

making sewed a new patch onto my jacket and moved another two—picture to follow. didn’t do any of the mending I brought, but have had thoughts about what makes sense and what I might buy to supplement the projects. new fabric store on my commute deserves a visit, methinks.

working on truly the answer here is ‘not overthinking or delaying out of perfectionism’. which I have already done. finished all but the last eng 385 essay feedback, finished proofing for joe and responding to the department’s newsletter person for the piece she’s writing; still have to finish this letter of recommendation and these two (2!?) chapter drafts. the point is to be able to write a final sentence and just. let them go. learn how to not stop shy of finishing something. learn how to bring something (anything) to a state of some kind of completion. sure, right. sure.

if you need me, I’ll be back in the woods.

[haltandcatchfiretothemax]

FEMSLASH FEBRUARY 2023 #7: In which Cameron and Donna think about big changes

Cameron was congratulating herself on going up to bed at 12:20 am, and not her usual 1 or 1:30 or even later, when she went into the bedroom, and saw that Donna wasn’t there. The sheets were rumpled, as if Donna had gone to bed, and then gotten back up again. Cameron pursed her lips, and then decided to get ready for bed. After she brushed her teeth, flossed, and changed into an old t-shirt and even older pair of pajama pants, gifted to her many years prior by Donna, she went to the media room.

She found Donna there, sitting on the couch, remote in hand clicking slowly through television stations, curled up and huddled into the corner, next to the arm, legs hugged tightly to her chest. Licorice the cat was with her, loafing on the back of the couch.

“Hey,” Cameron said, from the doorway. “It’s late. Well, not that late for me, but, do you wanna go to bed, maybe?”

Donna frowned over at her. The corner of her mouth turned up reflexively at the sight of Cameron, but she sighed, “No, not really.”

Cameron glanced over at the television, and saw that Donna had landed on a rerun of Taxi, a show that Cameron hadn’t paid much attention to when it first aired, but that was surprisingly hilarious to her now. Looking back at Donna, she said, “What’s on your mind, Boss? Thinkin’ about work?”

“What if I’m too old to take risks?” Donna asked. “What if quitting Symphonic to start Phoenix is a terrible idea? Am I a terrible wife and business partner for thinking that? What if, what if, what if? I’m freaking out!” Donna cried.

“Okay, yeah, I can see that,” Cameron said, moving slowly toward the couch. She carefully reached for the remote and as she took it from Donna’s hand she said, “We’re gonna find you some nice, soothing Bob Ross to watch, okay?”  

“I checked, he’s not on!” Donna wailed, slumping, deflated, onto her side. 

Cameron sat down next to her, “Well, let’s just check again.” She clicked through the channels, to the guide station. As she scrolled though the tv listings, she said, “Wow…kinda feels like we’re already back in that fast-paced, high-stakes, breakdown every day start-up life, huh?”

Timidly, Donna said, “You think I’m being overly dramatic?”

Cameron grinned at the tv. “I would know if you were, wouldn’t I? It’s nice to be the calm one now and again.”

Donna smiled glumly. “Not gonna argue with any of that.”

“I don’t think you’re being overly dramatic,” Cameron said, still looking at the tv. 

“Really?” Donna said. Sitting up, she turned to Cameron and said, “It’s not that I don’t believe in Phoenix, I do, and I’ve been looking forward to working together on a site again, so much, but, the idea of leaving Symphonic….”

Cameron finally gave up. “You’re right, no Bob Ross.” She went back to Taxi, and then she leaned back against the couch, and looked over at Donna. “It would be a big change. If it were me, I’d probably be freaking out too.” 

“I was thinking,” Donna said, crossing her legs sukhasana style, “what if I compromise? I could stay at Symphonic, and you could run Phoenix, or maybe I could work there part time and keep my very highly paid position at Symphonic? Or maybe I could hold off, and you could get Phoenix off the ground, and I could join you there eventually? Is that a cop out, though? Am I just being a total coward?”

Cameron narrowed her eyes skeptically. “You’re a lot of things Donna, but a coward isn’t one of them.” 

“It feels cowardly to try and come up with some kind of halfway solution,” Donna pouted. “You wouldn’t be sitting here trying to figure out how to half ass two different things because you’re too scared to move on.”

“Are you kidding?” Cameron scoffed. She sat up, and leaned in dramatically toward Donna. “Have you met me?! Or, okay,” she shrugged, “maybe I wouldn’t be clinging to a job at a venture capital firm. That’s the thing though.”

“What?” Donna asked, perplexed.

“I’m not you, and I’ve never had a job like yours to leave. I’ve started companies, but not like Symphonic, not the way you did,” Cameron said, folding a leg underneath her. “You remember when I called you a parasite? I apologized, because it was mean, and also because I was wrong. You built something real. After a lot of losses. Something that helps other people build real things, real, important things. You built your place in this industry, and you mostly did it alone. Gordon didn’t help, and I didn’t help either.”

Donna’s shoulders relaxed. She looked at Cameron, warmly, and said, “That’s not really true. You helped. Even if you didn’t exactly mean to.”

“I’ve also never been where you are. You’re not just a CEO,” Cameron said. “You’re a provider. You’re the breadwinner. Which is hot, honestly. Even if it maybe shouldn’t be.” 

That made Donna smile.

“Of course,” Cameron said, “whatever you wind up deciding, it kind of doesn’t matter. Because no matter what, you are part of Phoenix’s story. And also, because, no matter what, I’m with you.”

Eyes filling with tears, Donna said, “I know. It’s still nice to be reminded, though.” She leaned forward, awkwardly, and gave Cameron a grateful if watery kiss on the cheek.

Cameron grinned at Donna, cheeks slightly pink. Then, she said, “I was gonna ask if you’re ready to go to bed, but, honestly? I don’t want to. I’d stay up all night every night playing games if I could, probably.” Waving the remote toward the tv, she asked, “Do you wanna be my little spoon and watch this syndicated classic sitcom with me?”

Donna kissed her again, and said, “I would love to, thank you for asking!”

She moved so that Cameron could lie down along the length of the couch, which wasn’t quite long enough for her, and then she lay down in front of Cameron, who folded one arm underneath her, and wrapped the other around Donna’s waist. After a little while of lying there, calmly, listening to the tv, and also Cameron’s breathing, and the cat’s light snoring, Donna didn’t feel worried anymore. 

[desmondkane-of-ao3-fame]

I don’t know if you’ve answered something like this before, but what causes willow and skara to develop feelings for each other respectively?

I actually don’t know if I’ve answered this one before. At least not directly. I’ve done an ask or two about Skara and Willow growing close before confessing, and one about a soulmates au, but nothing like, ‘What made Willow and Skara fall for each other’.

Well me and my friend Q are still working on our long-form skarlow fic (we are I promise) that will answer this, but it’s basically become non-cannon compliant by this point, so maybe there’s a version that works closer to cannon then…

Skara falls for Willow first. How could she not? Willow was so sweet and strong and fun to be around and bright and just… an entire dictionaries worth of positive adjectives that Skara could go through! Of COURSE Skara would fall for her!

Which she did, at the end of one of their Flyer Derby games. Skara assisted Willow with getting the winning score, snatching victory from the jaws of defeat! As the announcers called the game, the two girls, giddy with excitement, hi-fived: a simple act that changed Skara forever.

The truth is, Skara always had some feelings for Willow, at least as far back as Grudgby. She’d always have this momentary feeling of light orbs tickling her heart whenever she saw Willow, this small, silly sensation that made Skara want to hang around the glasses-wearing girl more. When she was still friends with Boscha, though, she lied to herself about it to stay on the triclopses good side. And when she left, she thought it was simply a weird combination of… she didn’t know. Friendship and guilt?

But when her hands touched Willow’s, and she saw the Plant Witches beaming and glowing smile, that feeling of light orbs blew up inside of her, scattering it’s warmth across her whole body. In that moment, she just wanted to interlock their fingers and never let go.

Sadly, she had to point two seconds later, but it was right then, floating several feet off the ground, hand still held up like an idiot, that Skara realized that her feelings weren’t just platonic friendship niceness: she liked Willow. A lot. Like… a LOT a lot.

And that’s how Skara fell.

Willow would come later, a few weeks after Skara. In which time Skara was barely able to hide her feelings. Hiding her face in the halls, barely paying attention at practice, almost falling over the railing once as she walked past Willow in the hall. At that point, everyone was seeing it: Viney, Gus, even HUNTER noticed stuff was up! The only one ironically who didn’t was Willow herself.

Though, for good reason; Willow wasn’t the overly romantic type. She didn’t really have a lot of crushes growing up, and what few she had… well, didn’t work out. So Willow didn’t think too much about romance. She was always open to the idea, and maybe she liked the story of how her dads grew close through Flyer Derby, but Willow never wanted to force anything: if she found someone she liked and they liked her, it would happen. If not, she could live with it.

Thankfully she did, in the form of Skara, sitting on the Derby field before practice, strumming on a guitar while trying to blow a tuba and using magic on drum sticks. When Willow asked just what was Skara doing, she told her, flustered, that it was a school assignment to write a love song. In reality, she was trying to come up with a good way to confess to Willow, but no song she could come up with felt right. Every rhythm felt too choppy, every lyric too played out. She wanted something to wow Willow, show her just how much she meant, and she couldn’t even imagine anything remotely worthy of her.

It wasn’t an immediate ‘love at first sound’ moment. But gradually, as Skara continued her song, strumming along with whatever her heart thought of, Willow began to feel her emotions… shift. She noticed how Skara got into the zone, how her furrowed brows relaxed, and how her doubtful frown shifted into a cool, confident smile. How her hair shone silver in the sun. And how the Star makeup she’d applied early today really did seem to suit her face…

But that wasn’t enough. Willow always knew Skara was cute, she’d have admitted it even when she was a bully. It was obvious. But it wasn’t just Skara’s cuteness that Willow thought about in that moment. She also thought about how cool Skara was, how funny she was. How fun it was to play alongside her, how nice it felt to listen to her babble on about strategies. Or, in this case, play music.

Willow realized how much she liked Skara’s love song.

And how much she wished Skara would play it for her.

At THAT revelation, Willow could have been mistaken for a Bard. Or, her face could be, anyway.

When Skara finished her song, her serene expression turned to panic as she noticed Willow’s face, also now panicking. Both girls were eternally grateful that the others showed up a moment later, ready for practice.

A practice Viney would famously describe as, quote, ‘the single most awkward and hormone-driven practice in the history of the entire sport of Flyer Derby,’ end quote.

Which made sense, given how Skara smacked herself against the scoring post staring at Willow and Willow’s first instinct was to shove Viney aside as she rushed over to cradle her like she was dying. Among other stupid hijinks.

Thankfully Skara and Willow both would recover from their injuries. And one week later, Skara would confess to Willow with a cleaned up version of the song Willow helped her make. And Willow, smiling, would yell out for the entirety of the Boiling Isles to hear, ‘yes!’

[sergiovinazzi]

Stolen - Lando Norris x Reader (Chapter Two)

2.9k words, rated E for everyone :)

Lando’s voice, amplified by the TV speakers, echoes around the humming Red Bull garage. “I’m fine but I’ve been better. I can say that I’m not in perfect condition, I’m not gonna lie. Some work to do mentally of course. I talk about that a lot, and mental health and mental strength is very important. I’ve not been sleeping that great and so on… not ideal and I’m feeling a bit sore, but I’m not the guy in the worst position after Wembley. I’ll work on it, I’ll make sure I’m in the best shape possible, and I feel like I can still go out and focus on what I need to do, and that’s the main thing.”

Your mind races as you listen to the boy plastered across the many screens revisit his experience at Wembley. He sounds awful; something about his cadence making it even more obvious that he is really, truly shaken up. The wavering pitch, awkward pausing, fumbling for words; everything about the way he presents himself is serving as a brutal reminder that being physically unscathed is no indicator that harm was not dealt. Even as the interview moves past the topic of last week’s Euro Final, you notice the shift in demeanor and your heart aches. You worry that bringing the watch to him is a bad idea, that it could prompt unbidden memories and disquieting feelings. You understand how big of an event Silverstone is from your dad’s tangents alone, especially for an English team with an English driver, so you reevaluate whether your decision to come was selfish, one made solely to alleviate your own sentiments of guilt rather than to verily right your believed wrongdoings.

On the journey to Silverstone, your dad had made multiple attempts at lessening your stress, even opting for variations of the if he steps out of line I will put him right back in his place father speech. Unfortunately fruitless, your father’s attempts mean you remain just as anxious as when you had first discovered that you managed to obtain a stolen wristwatch.

You’re not sure whether it’s the crisp morning air or your nerves that sends chills across your flesh, but your attempt to ground yourself subtly doesn’t go unnoticed by your dad as he passes you in the garage.

“Time is ticking,” he informs you, a smirk playing on his lips. “No pun intended.”

You roll your eyes in an attempt to downplay your apprehension, but your voice gives away any and all signs of the false confidence you hope to portray. “Can you do it for me?” you plead.

“I can’t just stroll on over to the McLaren garage without an invitation or proper reason, especially not a couple hours before free practice starts. It doesn’t look good.”

“It’s not like me walking in there instead would look any better,” you retort, gesturing to the Red Bull logo plastered across the chest of your black polo. “Your branding isn’t what I would call subtle.”

“Look, the McLaren team are a good sort. They’ll help you out if you just explain the issue and show them the watch. I’m sure Lando will understand too, he seems like a pretty nice bloke,” your dad reassures you.

Sighing, your eyes meet the floor, fingers intertwined with each other as you fidget incessantly. Before you can speak up in further defiance, however, an additional set of footsteps grow nearer and you freeze at the voice which speaks up.

“Christian, how much longer until our media slot?”

You lose your breath momentarily, locking your gaze onto your shoes as you wait for the person to pass by.

“About five minutes, Max,” your dad replies. “We were just about to head over.”

When you hear the footsteps grow fainter, you risk looking up, thankfully being met with only the observance of your father. You don’t even realize that you’ve tensed your body until your dad points it out.

“Relax,” he says. “He’s not going to say anything here, especially not on a race weekend.”

Nodding, you feel your shoulders ease up but you remain quiet.

“Anyways, like I said, our media briefing and interviews start soon and we’re after McLaren this weekend so they should already be back in their garage,” he says, realizing that you still appear troubled by the task ahead of you. “I promise you, everything will be fine. Just go over there and I’ll meet you back here when we’re done. The quicker you head over, the quicker you’re done with it and we can all move on." With that, your dad walks away and you reluctantly leave the Red Bull garage, adjusting your shirt as you straighten up.

You take a brief glance at your phone, turning it off after you try one last time to keep the picture of the boy imprinted in your mind. Eyes darting rapidly, you attempt to scan the paddock for anyone looking remotely like him while you make your way towards the bright orange and blue indicators of the McLaren garage.

The frequency of orange-clad individuals grows the further you stray from the safety of Red Bull’s garage, and you feel your heartbeat begin to increase. Worried that someone would stop you before you could approach the one person you had traveled all the way to Silverstone for in the first place, you quicken your pace.

You’re mere meters away when you spot him. Pushing past a few people while trying to keep your eyes trained on him, you watch as he turns around to talk briefly with the woman next to him.

Huffing, you muster up the little confidence you have and tap him on the shoulder.

His confusion is evident and the blonde woman next to him does not look pleased to have been interrupted. The silence is palpable as they stare at you, expecting an explanation for the abrupt ending of their conversation.

“Hi,” is all you can deliver. You’re at a loss for words while the woman next to him seems to lose what little patience she has with you. Everything you had rehearsed beforehand, gone. Your mind is foggy and your mouth feels dry as you try to compose yourself. “Um, can I talk to you for a second? It won’t be long, I promise.” Your voice breaks at the end and you wish you had never agreed to get on that stupid red-eye to Silverstone in the first place.

Lando offers a look of sympathy and then turns to the woman next to him. “Charlotte, could you just give us a second?”

Pursing her lips and turning on her heel, the woman walks away, heading towards the mouth of the McLaren garage. She’s far enough away that you’re out of earshot, but close enough that you feel her gaze linger as Lando turns back to face you.

“Hey, don’t worry,” he tells you with a smile. “We can take a picture if you want or I can sign some stuff for you.”

“What? No.” You shake your head, mentally slapping your palm against your forehead and forcing yourself to get a grip. Idiot. “Fuck, sorry, that sounded so rude! It’s just-” you rush to explain.

“Oh no, it’s okay!” he stammers. “I should’ve guessed from the Red Bull shirt anway.”

You both share an awkward laugh before you compose yourself and reach a shaky hand into your bag.

“This is going to sound so weird, but I was online shopping for a new watch the other day because I lost mine, and I’m pretty sure I bought the one that was stolen from you. I didn’t know anything about it, I swear. I just...well, here,” you say, offering the watch and its temporary box to Lando.

He looks at you, taking the box only to go wide-eyed at the contents inside.

“I have all the information that I was able to get, but the ad was taken off of eBay and I really wanted to do the right thing and give it back to you. Please don’t be mad.”

“What the hell?!” he exclaims, earning a few looks from people passing by and catching Charlotte’s attention once more. “Sorry, sorry. How did you get this?”

Amused, you laugh quietly while he studies the watch intently. “That was my dad’s reaction too. Basically there was a listing for it on eBay and it was sort of an impulse buy,” you explain. “I didn’t see the news coverage of what happened until afterwards and I felt awful. I’m really sorry you had to go through that, I genuinely had no idea.”

Shrugging, he plays it off. “Nothing I can’t handle.” It’s hard to miss his sudden change in attitude from the interview you watched moments ago and you can’t help but wonder whether he has your or the watch’s presence to thank.

There is a brief moment of silence between you both before he continues. “How much did you pay for it?”

“It was so cheap, honestly,” you say. “Nothing compared to the original price, I’m sure.”

Charlotte, alerted by Lando’s attention-grabbing reaction to being reunited by his watch, returns to where the two of you are standing. “Oh wow, did you find a replacement watch for him?” she asks you, clearly impressed by the apparent likeness.

“No, Charlotte”, he corrects her. “It’s my one. Look.” He hands the watch to his PR manager, who receives it so gently you think she’s afraid it might shatter in her hands. Flipping the watch between her fingers, she studies the small engraving on the underside of the face.

“Oh my god,” she whispers.

Lando nods. “It’s the exact date it was given to me, there’s no way anyone else could know that and make a copy of it.”

You feel the need to justify yourself to her. “It was listed online and I bought it before I knew anything about the situation. I didn’t even really know who Lando was until I saw what happened on the news, I swear.” You anticipate her anger or disapproval, preparing yourself to withstand the lecture you’re about to receive and mentally promising that, as soon as it’s over, you can run back to your dad and tell him you just want to go home.

But it doesn’t come.

“I can’t believe it!” she exclaims. “We all thought we’d never see it again and you found it on accident.” The smile she gives you sets your mind at ease. “Technically, this is a police matter now, so I’ll have to hand it over to the right people, but this helps us tremendously. Did you get any information about the seller?”

You explain the situation to her, about how the listing was taken offline but you have a printout of the messages and address the seller gave you, which you hand her from your bag. She lets you know that someone may get in touch soon to ask questions but not to worry, that it’s only a formality. Eventually, she asks if you’d like to watch free practice from a spot in the mobile hospitality unit, but you politely decline, explaining that you needed to get back to your dad in the Red Bull garage instead.

Charlotte smiles fondly at Lando and presses the brim of his cap down over his eyes. “Come on, you, we have to go and get ready now anyway.”

He takes off his hat, cheeks flushing as he makes an effort to quickly brush the curls lining his forehead, placing it back on and dismissing Charlotte with a wave of his hand. “Okay, just give me a minute.”

Once the two of you are alone, he pulls out his phone. “Do you have Venmo? I’ll pay you back, it’s not fair that you had to waste your money.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it.”

Lando seems unconvinced. “It’s really not a problem.”

“Seriously, it’s all good.”

“Well,” he continues awkwardly. “I have to go, but are you here for the whole weekend or...?”

You shake your head. “Just today. I’m not into Formula 1, I find it a little bit boring.”

“Seriously?! The fastest cars in the world and you’re calling it boring? Why even come to something like Silverstone if it’s so boring?” he feigns offense, doing air quotes as he imitates your apparent disdain for the sport.

Laughing quietly, you shrug. “I have family at Red Bull, so it was basically just luck and convenience that you were in the U.K. this weekend,” you clarify. “I don’t really understand Formula 1, that’s all.”

“Fair enough, it’s not for everyone I suppose,” Lando replies. “So who in your family works at Red–” The end of his question is drowned out by the sound of his name called by an evidently disgruntled, impatient engineer.

He sighs. “I’m sorry, I’ve really gotta go, but, um,” he exhales with a nervous laugh. “I still feel like I need to repay you in some way. Do you want to go get a drink after the race on Sunday? I’m busy for the next few days but Sunday night I’ll be free. Only if you want to, of course, I don’t want to, like, pressure you or anything.”

You laugh, appreciative that the nervousness was shared. “That– Yeah, that sounds fine. I’ll give you my number.”

He types your details into his phone before apologizing once more, thanking you again, and rushing off into the garage.

——

On Sunday, you let your dad believe he’s the one who convinced you to stay for the entire race weekend, but it’s the promise of Lando’s company later that night and the endearing text messages on your phone that prompts the desire to see this weekend through. You had spent the previous nights on your phone, going through driver and team Instagram accounts, as well as the F1 website, to get an idea of what to expect. Typically, it would pain you to look through motorsport news pages, especially with so many of the reports centering around Max and his vie for the championship as of late, but you manage.

You notice almost immediately while settling into your spot at the back of the garage that the energy does not match your own. You are enthusiastic and eager, while the rest of the team is stressed and rushes around you. Presumably, it’s because race day impacts their livelihoods and paycheks whereas it only dictates your family’s dinner topics, but, nevertheless, your excitement refuses to simmer.

Unfortunately, if it was weird for you to be seen at the McLaren garage before the first free practice, it would be infinitely more suspicious for you to be lingering around on race day, so you were not able to catch Lando at all since your initial meeting on Friday. However, you made sure to message him good luck beforehand, to which he thanked you and expressed excitement for your upcoming night.

“If you need anything, just ask. I’ll be on the pitwall,” your dad says, snapping you out of your whirring mind. He notices your obscure behavior, quick to comment on it. “Is it weird? Being here after so long?”

You nod, shrugging. “Unusual, for sure. So much has changed since the last time I came and watched, but I’m excited, though.”

“Well, it’s always good to have you here.”

Reciprocating your dad’s grin, you silently send him on his way. He exits quickly and leaves you to your own devices. Though, your own devices look to consist of impatiently waiting for the race to start and scrolling absentmindedly through your phone. Ironically, your boredom with pre-race antics appears to create quite the dichotomy against the chaos exuding from the garage you find yourself encompassed in.

Regardless, your attention is regained when frequent cuts are made to the drivers in their cars, and you recognise that the race will be starting soon. You are temporarily startled when the cars begin moving without hearing an official announcement, but quickly realisee that it is merely a formation lap and no one else around you seems to be paying all too much mind to it.

When the cars return to their positions on the grid, you watch eagerly as the lights flash and the announcers begin yelling. You keep your eyes trained on the orange car towards the front of the grid, watching Lando so intently that you almost miss what happens to the cars in front of him.

Your eyes go wide as you watch the events unfold: the Red Bull car out front collides with what you identify as a Mercedes, spinning and slamming into the barrier. Gasps chorus across the garage as the screens replay slowed clips of the crash as an announcement states that the safety car has been deployed. They replay it from every conceivable angle, your astonishment at the severity is present upon your first viewing, but it’s only after the sixth clip that it clicks in your head that the person in the car is Max.

“For the second time this season, Hamilton and Verstappen clash and tangle on the opening lap, but, this time, it is ending in dramatic consequences for the championship leader.”

If you had perceived the pre-race behavior in the garage as chaotic, this was a whole new level of absurdity.

People rush around you while orders are shouted and frustrations are verbalised.

Your dad is angry.

The last time you recall him behaving like this was when your younger sister had broken the wine glasses he had bought for your mother on their honeymoon. You, however, ignore his yelling and remain encapsulated by the TV, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding as the events unfolding finally, finally register in your brain.

Car number 33 is in the wall and out of the race, and your ex-boyfriend is inside, silent and unmoving.

____________

tag list @lovebynorth @its-astrotea-love

[utopianvoices]

past, present, future → b.chan

synopsis: Your best friend drags you to his high school reunion against your will, and never have you encountered such chaos. Alternatively, you go on the journey of making more friends, and a potential lover.

genre: high school acquaintances to lovers au; fluff, one second of angst

pairing: bang chan x reader

word count: 14.4k

warnings: explicit language, alcohol consumption, kinda dialogue heavy (oops)

note: i am BACK with this mess of a fic. it took me too long to finish this, and i apologise for any shitty writing :3 thanks to my little babie @curanonemu​ for making sure i finished this and supporting me as usual muAH. new formatting on posts too weeeee (new year, new me fsdhfgs jk no)!! also, synopsis kinda sucks i’m sorry :P hope y’all enjoy! x

i.

You did not want to go for your high school reunion dinner. 

High school is a time for many that is either the best, or worst time of their lives. Forever friends are found there and painstakingly embarrassing memories are made in run down buildings with people you care about. Except, you didn’t have any such attachments. 

Those three years were nothing but a filler for you as you studied, helped out in the library, and hung out with one person you called your best friend. 

And on top of it all, it wasn’t even a high school reunion dinner meant for you.

The night the bomb is dropped on you, Changbin walks into the living room of the apartment you both share just outside the grounds of your university, and goes straight to the kitchen to fix himself a bowl of cereal because cooking and Changbin did not get along well. The apartment was way cheaper than the dorms your school provided, and it definitely did not have any nosy RAs who were just out there to torture students for their own viewing pleasure.

On top of all that, you could live with your best friend and not some random stranger who might very much as well be a psychotic killer. Perhaps, Changbin could have some questionable habits, like talking to himself in a baby voice while looking in the mirror, but nothing that threatened your life. 

You hear Changbin’s phone ringing from the kitchen as you aimlessly flip through the shows available on Netflix, deciding which new show you should watch and commit to, when your best friend’s boisterous laughter fills your ears. Used to the noise, you roll your eyes before increasing the volume of the TV, finally deciding to rewatch Sherlock.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re about to solve the known mystery together with Benedict Cumberbatch when Changbin walks in front of the TV, automatically eliciting a whine from you as you crane your neck left and right to catch a glimpse of the screen. 

“What the fuck, Bin?” You finally yell, frowning at the boy in front of you. Realising that he probably wanted something, considering the fact that he wasn’t moving till you asked him, you switch the TV off and settle back into the sofa, throwing him a death glare. “What do you want from me, pest?”

Something’s definitely amiss when you see Changbin shuffling his feet and looking at the ground, a guilty smile ever-present on his face. 

“Whatever it is, my answer is no,” you say distantly, leaning back into the sofa with crossed arms. “So give it up.”

“Oh c’mon Y/n! At least hear me out?” Changbin cries out loudly, dropping onto his knees with clasped hands. 

Heaving out a sigh, you slowly unfold your arms and lean forward, eyebrows raised as you nod at the poor boy in front of you. “I’ll hear you out. But don’t expect me to say yes.”

“Um...” Changbin starts, eyes darting around the room as he tries to find the right words. “So my high school friends are having a reunion dinner next week and I told them I’d go, but I also said I’d bring you along and they were too happy and so now I think you’ll have to come with me but-”

“Woah woah woah, a high school reunion party? Absolutely not.” 

It’s not like you had anything against his friends. You did have brief interactions with a few of them in high school and you knew they were pretty decent lads, but there was no way you were following Changbin to what was meant to be a friends’ gathering. 

“But why not!” Changbin whines, waddling over to you on his knees. “It’ll be really fun!”

“Yeah, fun for you,” you deadpan, staring at your pitiful best friend who has now resorted to throwing you puppy eyes. “They’re your friends after all, not mine.”

“That’s right. But they could be. Don’t you think it’s time you start finding more friends who are not me?” 

Changbin’s once pitiful eyes held something other than desperation at that moment; they held concern. 

It was true that you had no other friend other than Changbin. You knew lots of people, sure, but you wouldn’t call them your friends. With no friends to your name other than that one, it also wasn’t hard to guess that you never dated too. But all that mattered is that you were fine with it, right?

“You know that I don’t need any other friends. You’re more than enough for me. Truthfully, I don’t think I could deal with another Changbin in my life.” 

Your words incite chuckles from Changbin, but that doesn’t stray him from his original goal. 

“How about this,” he starts, opting to sit cross-legged on the floor because his knees were starting to hurt way too much. “You come to the reunion with me, and the moment you feel uncomfortable, we both can leave no questions asked. Deal?”

As tempting as that sounded, you knew it was not fair to cut Changbin’s precious time with his friends just because you did not want to hang out with new people. “That’s not fair to you.” 

Shaking his head, Changbin stares at you, the fire in his eyes clearly visible, and you know that he had made up his mind. “I don’t care. It’s either you follow me and we can leave whenever, or I don’t go at all.”

There was no turning back now. You knew that in the end, what Changbin wants, he gets. 

You sigh numbly before nodding your head in defeat, dreading the day that was to come where you had to leave the comfort of your apartment. 

With no warning, you’re engulfed in a tight hug by a nuisance chanting “thank you” a million times. You ease into the hug, wrapping your arms around him and giving him a light squeeze, before pulling back to see that he had a smile similar to the one on your face. 

“I guess you’re right about me needing more friends. I can’t be annoying you for the rest of my life, right?”

ii.

You’re once again reminded why you don’t go for social gatherings as you take in the various clothes strewn all over your room. 

“Hey- Woah, what happened here?” Changbin asks, bewildered at the sight in front of him. “It looks like a hurricane hit your room or something.”

“Yes, it’s called Hurricane Y/n Is Screwed,” you reply sarcastically, before sinking down into your bed in defeat. Looking up at your best friend, you decide to give it a shot and put on your most pitiful face. “Do I really have to go?” 

“Yes, you really have to go,” Changbin replies without sparing you another glance, as he sifts through the heap of clothes on your bed. “And get that ugly look off your face, please. It makes me want to barf.” 

Flipping your best friend off, you manoeuvre yourself such that you’re facing Changbin, and look upon him in curiosity. 

After what felt like forever, pieces of clothing are thrown at you, along with a reminder that you had three hours before you had to leave. 

“Three?!” You screech, causing Changbin to wince and cover his ears. “You should’ve told me earlier so that I have more time!” 

“What are you so loud for, you damn pterodactyl? And three hours is more than enough. We’re just going to a cheap restaurant a few blocks away because we’re all broke college students.” 

Huffing at your insolent best friend, you grab the clothes he threw at you and make your way to the bathroom, not bothering to contemplate his decision because you knew he had pretty good taste in fashion. In fact, half the clothes you had in your wardrobe were bought with him as your advisor, so you’re really in no position to criticise his choices.

You stare at your reflection and let out a nervous breath; you weren’t used to meeting new people, and there was no way you were going to be able to handle a hoard of newly turned adults. The last thing you wanted was to cut Changbin’s time short with his friends, and as you stare at yourself in the mirror, you make a promise to yourself that you’ll get through the night by whatever means. Even if it meant hours of torture.

Changbin, with absolutely no urgency, is sitting on the couch watching the fourth Harry Potter movie, when you walk into the living room, makeup half done and still dressed in your stay-at-home clothes. Boys, you think.

“I think I need to know who and how many people will be there,” you finalise, watching Changbin pick up the remote and pausing the movie at exactly when Cedric dies; poor chap. “ So that I can, you know, mentally prepare myself.”

“You really don’t, but okay. There’ll be nine of us, including you. Minho, Hyunjin, and Felix from the dance team, Jeongin and Seungmin from the baseball team, Chan from the swimming team, soccer team, and honours board, and Jisung who was pretty much useless like me.” 

“Wow.” 

“In my defense, you’ve seen all of these dudes at least once,” Changbin says, shrugging his shoulders. “Anyway, they’re all really nice and fun so you have nothing to worry about.” 

“Says you,” you mutter under your breath, before returning to your room to prepare for your doom.

iii.

The sign of the restaurant flickers periodically as you stand in the middle of the street with Changbin by your side. People brush past you as they hurry to meet their friends and families in the various restaurants lining the street, excitement evident in their steps.

Taking a deep breath, you push open the door. Immediately, a gush of warm air welcomes you, causing you to let out a content sigh.

“Hey Changbin!” A loud voice calls out from behind you, and the both of you turn in your place. The sight in front of you gives you equal amounts of anxiety and fear, as you wonder how you were going to handle the table of one, two, three… seven boys, including the embarrassment standing beside you, who was now busy doing some sort of weird wave in favour of a greeting. 

“Changbin, please,” you plead, burying your face in your hands as you willed for someone to transport you back to your apartment so that you didn’t have to face reality and stand next to your shameless friend. 

Chuckling sheepishly, your best friend finally stops, patting your back before walking towards the table at the back of the restaurant. “Oops sorry. Let’s go meet the rest!” 

Here goes nothing.

Reaching the almost-filled table, your eyes dart from face to face, trying to see if you could remember anyone currently seated in front of you. 

“Guys! This is Y/n, my best friend,”—at this, a few complaints erupt from around the table—”Gosh, fine. My other best friend.” 

Immediately, at least three people shout their greetings your way. 

“Hi Y/n! Nice to meet you!”

“Yo~ Changbin’s told us lots about you.”

“Y/n, sit beside me!” 

Exasperated, your eyes flit around the table, trying your best to smile at all of them (which honestly turns out to look more like a pained grimace). Luckily, there was one seemingly sane person present. 

“Shut up, everyone.” A boy with blue hair and sharp eyes shushes everyone. “Hi Y/n, it’s nice to have you here. I’m Jeongin.” 

At this, the once quiet table is back to chaos as complaints are directed towards Jeongin for sneakily introducing himself first. Taking advantage of the mess, Changbin guides you towards the empty seats and finally settles the both of you down. Now all the seats were filled, except for one empty seat left beside you. 

You’re about to ask Chanbgin about the empty chair, but before you can, he claps his hands, attracting everyone’s attention. “Okay, everyone will take turns introducing themselves. Seungmin, you start.”

The sandy haired boy seated on the right of Changbin waves both his hands while bouncing in his seat, reminding you of a puppy. “I’m Seungmin!”

Next is Jeongin, who just gives you a small smile. 

Beside him, you see a blonde haired boy, what is up with the hair colours, who just smiles brightly, eyes shining brightly and freckles visible. “Hello, I’m Felix. It’s great to meet you!” 

Taken aback by the deep voice, which was a total contrast to his cute appearance, you’re unable to hide the shock from your face. This triggers a bout of chuckles from the table; it was probably common for people to display similar reactions when meeting Felix. 

Before pretty boy (that’s what you decided to remember him as) could introduce himself, the black haired boy resembling a squirrel interrupts him. “I’m Jisung!” 

You recognise him as the one who shouted when you and Changbin entered the restaurant, and you’re about to acknowledge him when you’re cut off. 

“Oi Han, it was my turn to introduce myself! Who allowed you to skip the line?” 

“I do what I want,” was Jisung’s response, and pretty boy looked like he was one push away from murder. 

Just as you’re sure that you were about to witness a murder, Changbin chides the two boys and breaks up the petty argument. “Just introduce yourselves without any nonsense, please.” 

“I’m Hyunjin,” pretty boy mutters sulkily, giving Jisung a death stare. “And I can dance better than Jisung.”

“You motherf-”

“And I’m Minho,” the last person introduces himself, successfully cutting off Jisung’s profanity mid-word. “Sorry, don’t mind those two. They’re like Tom and Jerry.” 

Smiling weakly, you muster up the courage to introduce yourself to the four pairs of eyes staring at you. Hyunjin and Jisung were busy having a staredown, while Changbin was eyeing the meat sizzling on the grill. “Hi, I’m Y/n, Changbin’s friend. It’s nice to meet all of you. Thanks for having me here.” 

And just like that, everyone is back to their own conversations, with Changbin piling the perfectly done meat onto his plate. You take in a deep breath and look around the table at the happy faces. 

This isn’t so bad, you thought, a little chaotic, but otherwise entertaining. 

“They’re overwhelming huh?”

Any effort to mask your bewilderment vanishes as you catch the knowing look on Minho’s face. A guilty smile blooms on your face and you nod your head. “Just a little.”

“I get that,” he starts, but soon enough, there’s a content smile on his face that shows his love for his friends. “But at the end of the day, I know that these monkeys will be there for me no matter what, so I guess it makes it all worth it.”

Smiling softly at his words, you almost coo at the light blush dusting Minho’s face as reality catches up to him. 

“Ahem anyway. How’s living with Changbin?” He clears his throat before changing the topic, instinctively putting some meat on your plate before helping himself, earning a grateful smile from you. 

“It’s not too bad,” you start, feeling Changbin’s gaze on you after having overheard Minho’s question. “Except sometimes, he talks to himself in the mirror and it’s pretty scarring.”

“Y/n!” Changbin whines as Minho guffaws beside you, nodding his head to your answer, clearly having witnessed that side of Changbin before. “Wait till Chan comes. At least he’ll support me.” 

At the unfamiliar name, you furrow your brows and the name in the form of a question tumbles out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. “Chan?”

“He’s not here yet,” Minho addresses your confusion, having heard your little slip up. “He had to oversee the training for the upcoming soccer match, being the captain and all, and apparently he had a tutoring session after. He should be here soon though.”

That explains the empty chair beside you. 

“Oh, he needs to get tutored after training?” You ask, feeling bad for the unknown boy. Having to absorb information after physical activities is torture. You couldn’t even focus after 40 minutes of gym. “That’s rough.”

At your assumption, a cat-like smirk spreads across Minho’s face. “Oh no, darling. He tutors after his training.”

There’s no way you’re to be blamed for the first thought that pops into your head after discovering that said Chan was responsible and smart. You’ve seen people struggling with just one extracurricular, and begging teachers for extra credits because of poor time management. 

So, it’s really not your fault that the first words that enter your head is, that’s hot.

Just then, the bell situated above the door rings, indicating that someone was entering the restaurant. You’re not bothered by it, until Felix’s deep voice fills your ear.

“Chan!”

It’s almost comical how slowly you turn towards the sound, blush threatening to fill your cheeks at your first impression of Chan, without even meeting him. And as Giovanni Torriano has once said:

Talk of the Devil, and he's presently at your elbow.

Your eyes follow the figure of the devilishly breathtaking boy walking towards your table. He’s still dressed in what you assume was his soccer jersey, black hair tousled from the wind and practice. Shaking your head, you rid yourself of that inappropriate thought and opt to stare at the bowl of radish that looked the most interesting to you.

“Hey guys!” Chan smiles widely at the group of friends, as a few of them immediately get up from their seats to greet him with their usual bro hug. He sets his things down beside Minho, and is taking his seat when he spots you. Confusion clear in his eyes, he looks around the table, silently asking for an explanation as to what a stranger was doing at their usual table. 

You realise his staring and try to introduce yourself, but you find yourself unable to form sentences as the reality of who Chan was hits you. 

The star swimmer of your high school’s swimming team, and the top student of every single year. He was the epitome of popular. Everyone knew his name, and apparently he had never missed one day of lessons or training. On top of that, he used to regularly tutor in the library.

“Oh, this is my friend Y/n!” Changbin pipes up, slinging an arm around you. “Same high school as us, and my roommate now.”

At this, the confusion clouding Chan’s hazel eyes clears up, and he turns to face you, extending a hand. “The one who used to carry thick books everywhere and helped out in the library right? I’m Chan!” 

Being the complete opposite of your best friend, you’re sure no one has ever noticed you in the library. You blend in perfectly with the shadows and shelves, and you didn’t usually help the students out, opting to arrange the books in the storeroom—the one small thing you could do to help out the aged librarian who brought you mouth-watering brownies every Thursday. 

The thick books, in your defense, was your attempt at trying to finish the Harry Potter series whenever you had the spare time. You never had to explain yourself because you never expected anyone to notice. Especially not the most popular guy in school who had a million other friends.

But there he was, in all his glory, eyes crinkled into crescents as he waits for you to shake his hand, seemingly remembering you when nobody else did.

A small nudge to your side from Changbin breaks you out of your reverie and you grab his hand, silently noting how soft they were. “Nice to meet you.”

Smiling at you, he gently shakes your hand before turning to the other boys, immediately making jokes and laughing along. 

“What was that about?” Changbin whispers harshly, eyeing you and Chan suspiciously.

“What was what?” 

“Chan remembering you! You’ve never even met before.”

Looking at your best friend, you shrug before reaching out for another piece of meat. “Beats me.”

Changbin opens his mouth to interrogate you more, when he’s successfully cut off by Seungmin. 

“Y/n! Tell us more about yourself! I’m bored of hearing about these idiots.” 

Jeers sound from around the table as you let out a nervous chuckle, aware of how everyone’s attention was on you. “Me?” You ask, pointing to yourself for extra confirmation. 

Yea!” Seungmin replies, nodding vigorously. “What are you doing now, and how was high school for you, and just everything!” 

Noting your hesitation, Changbin is about to step in to save you, but your hand on his thigh stops him. Looking at you curiously, he realises from your expression that you’re finally about to do what he had been nagging at you to do since day one of becoming your friend. 

iv.

‘Is it possible for a stomach to burst from too much laughing?’ is what runs through your head as tears stream down your face from laughing uncontrollably at another joke Jisung was saying. 

“Wait, I remember Changbin telling me that people used to refer to you as Baby Photos when you all played at the school shows,” you ask after you had recovered from your laughing fit, curiosity piquing. “What’s that all about?” 

At the mention of the familiar name, the boys let out groans and Hyunjin starts hitting Jisung. “It’s all Jisung’s fault!” 

“Basically, he somehow got ahold of all our baby photos and submitted it to the administration on behalf of us,” Changbin explains, rolling his eyes at the memory. “So if you see our yearbook, all eight of us have our baby photos instead of the actual photo we were supposed to submit.” 

How is that even possible?!

“We still don’t know how he managed to do that.” Chan answers your unasked question, shaking his head fondly at the ridiculous memory. 

At this, Jisung pipes up. “Everything is possible when you’re charming and handsome. You lot won’t be able to relate!” 

And you finally agree that the beating Jisung gets after was well deserved. 

“Restaurant’s closing in ten!” 

The owner of the restaurant, a nice old lady who had a soft spot for the boys, calls out from the back. She had already let all of you stay past her usually closing time, and even gave you some free side dishes, together with a loving chide about how the boys don’t come and visit her anymore. 

The screech of the chairs fill the place as everyone gets up, stomach and heart full from the meal and company. You smile to yourself, glad that you let yourself be convinced to follow Changbin because you had one of the best days in your life. 

“Did you have fun today?” Your best friend asks with a smug smile, already knowing the answer.

“Shut up,” is all you can say—a clear sign that you were admitting defeat. “It was okay.”

“That wounds me,” someone speaks up from behind you, having heard your conversation with Changbin. You whip around to see Chan clutching his heart and wearing an exaggerated hurt face. “I thought we had a connection.” 

“I-you, no, that’s not-what” you splutter, horrified at the thought of Changbin’s, and now apparently your, friends thinking that you didn’t have a good time with them. There was no way you could let them think as such when they had made you feel so comfortable, and have so much fun. 

Your stuttering and horrified expression does it, and Chan bursts into laughter. “I’m so sorry, it was a joke. But your face!” 

The guilt and regret is replaced with relief and irritation, and you smack his arm out of habit, something you always did to Changbin when he was being a pain in the ass. But as soon as you do it, you’re once again filled with regret because Oh my God it’s only been two hours, you’re not supposed to just smack people.

“Stop overthinking it, idiot,” Chan cuts you off, adding in a low tier insult to make you feel a bit better about your reflexes. “We’re friends now; all of us.” 

Friend to friends. Now that’s an upgrade.

You’re about to say something, when you’re cut off by Changbin screeching unceremoniously as he glances at the time displayed on his lockscreen (it’s a picture of the two of you making ugly faces—he refused to change it).

“Shit, we’re going to miss the last bus that leaves from here!” He almost shouts, grabbing his and your things. “Adios bitchachos!”

A snicker or two echoes through the empty restaurant at Changbin’s farewell, together with requests of bringing you the next time they meet.

“Make sure Y/n comes for the next dinner! Doesn’t matter if you’re here or not!”

Jisung earns himself a string of vulgarities from Changbin for that, as he guffaws and hi-fives Hyunjin. 

You’re barely able to say your farewell to the boys with Changbin dragging you out of the restaurant, but you manage to shout out a few words while waving. “Thank you for today! See you soon!” 

The bus arrives just as you reach the bus stop, and Changbin all but collapses on one of the empty seats from the running you both did. 

“I think I’m going to throw up.”

“You’re foul.” You’re staring at your best friend in disgust when he starts questioning you about the dinner, nausea forgotten. 

“So…” he starts, pivoting in his seat to face you, cheek leaning against his hand which rested on the seat in front of him. “For someone who was dead set on not coming, you sure looked like you had lots of fun.” 

Rolling your eyes at his words, you turn to face Changbin. “Isn’t that what you wanted? Me making more friends?”

“Of course, of course~” he drawls, smirk ever-present on his face. “And who do we have to thank for that?” 

“And you ask me why I don’t listen to you or ask you for favours.” Turning your attention back to your phone, you open up Temple Run in hopes of keeping yourself occupied for the bus ride back; but Changbin had other plans. 

Whining, he snatches your phone from your hands and slips it into his pocket. “Y/n! Tell me everything!”

“What do you want to know?!” you ask, exasperated. “You were there literally the whole time.” 

“Yes I know, but I want to know what you think of all my friends!” Changbin claps his hands in excitement, leaning forward in anticipation. “Well, our friends now.” 

You can’t help but sigh as you prepare for the long bus ride ahead—but somehow, you don’t miss the sudden warmth enveloping you as you recalled the past few hours. 

“First of all, Jisung and Hyunjin are hilarious, it’s like…”

v.

Two weeks later, and you’re knee deep in shit. Not literally, of course, but you might as well be. 

It’s the infamous hell month in your university, where every student (regardless of major) has a shit ton of assignments and tests to complete, and the library is open 24 hours for poor souls like yourself. 

It’s two in the morning when you’re working on your second essay of the day. There are crumpled balls of paper all over your desk and surrounding your bin, courtesy of your pathetic aim. 

“You’re cleaning everything up later,” Changbin speaks up from across the dining table you both were sharing to get work done, tapping away on his equipment as he works on some new beat. “I don’t expect every ball to go in, but to miss everything? That’s some serious talent.”

“Shut your mouth, Seo.” Flipping your best friend off, you finally push yourself away from the table, stretching a bit before making your way to the kitchen to fix yourself a bowl of ramen in hopes of satiating the beast growling in your stomach.

As you open each shelf, you slowly come to the realisation that you were completely out of snacks and food. Even the single frozen bag of peas and empty ice cream tub stares back at you in pity as you scan the fridge. 

Taking a breath to calm yourself, you slowly turn around to face your unsuspecting, so-called, best friend. Walking towards him, you knock the table a few times to get his attention.

He notices your presence, and removes his headphones to look at you quizzically, his full attention on your blank face.

“When were you going to tell me that you had consumed every single food item we have?”

It’s almost comical how quickly the blood drains from his face, as his eyes dart all around the room, skillfully avoiding you. If it were any other situation, you would’ve definitely laughed while falling onto the floor. But this wasn’t any other situation.

This was war.

And honestly, it would have been a war that you would’ve definitely won—if not for the loud sound your stomach just produced.

Narrowing your eyes at the accused seated a few feet away from you, you walk over to the countertop with your wallet, eyes not leaving Changbin for a second.

“I will deal with you when I am back from the convenience store.”

And with the sight of Changbin gulping imprinted in your mind, you slam your apartment door behind you and make your way grumpily to the 24-hour convenience store located seven minutes away.

vi.

The electronic chime sounds throughout the store as the part-timer throws you a friendly greeting from the counter. “Welcome!” 

Reciprocating with a smile of your own, you take slow steps towards the shelf with the various assorted packets of ramen, and your hand automatically reaches for your favourite one. Just as it comes into contact with the plastic, you can feel yourself salivating and your stomach growls in appreciation. It’s a myth, you think. There’s no way food like carrots and asparagus is what gets students through school. The only saving grace you have during this period is packets of ramen and chocolate milk. Countless numbers of assignments and tests are already torturous enough; healthy, tasteless food on top of that? No, thanks. 

Clutching the ramen packet in your hands like it was the treasure of your life, you walk towards the milk section to complete your meal with your favourite carton of chocolate milk. There was something about the combination of milk that combats the spice from the ramen, and you’re about to drop onto your knees right there and then to worship the people who invented ramen and chocolate milk, when you see the last carton being taken away right in front of your eyes. 

Without any second thoughts, you rush towards the person and grab their arm, already getting ready to pull out the sob story of how you absolutely need the chocolate milk to survive. Surprised by the sudden contact, the man holding the carton whips his head towards you, eyes wide. 

There’s a fleeting sense of familiarity that passes through you when you see the hazel peeking out from above the mask that covered the rest of his face, but you’re too preoccupied to dwell on the thought. Just as you’re about to open your mouth to beg, you’re cut off by an all too familiar voice. 

“Y/n?”

Huh?

You stare at each other for a few seconds before the realisation of who you were holding, no, clinging onto dawns on you. 

“C-Chan?”

In a lively city that thrived at night, there were a thousand other 24-hour convenience stores scattered all around in every corner. It also wasn’t everyday that you decided to go to the convenience store for food, opting to go to the grocery stores instead. So, if you calculated correctly, the chance of you bumping into Chan at 2:30 a.m. at that very particular store should be close to never.

Yet, there he was standing right in front of you, chocolate milk clutched in one hand. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Oh I came here to water my plants.” 

Plants? 

You’re more than confused, till you hear the soft snicker that escapes his mouth. Narrowing your eyes at his antics, you decide to bite back with a “Ha ha, very funny.”

“So… Are you planning to hold onto me forever?” Chan teases you, eyes gesturing to your hand that was still clutching onto him, before looking back at you with a twinkle in his brown eyes. “Because I wouldn’t be opposed to that.” 

With the whole bumping-into-Chan thing that happened, it had completely slipped your mind that you were still holding onto him. You snatch your hand away in horror, eyes widening as you feel the heat creep up your neck. “S-sorry.” And before you could stop yourself, you also continue to spill why you had grabbed his arm in the first place. “I was just craving for chocolate milk, and the one you took was the last carton left.” 

Looking back and forth at you and the carton, you start to feel like an absolute idiot, until he reaches out and pushes the carton into your hands. “You can have it then,” he says, and walks away. “Stay right there, let me grab some ramen and we can have supper together!” 

You stare at the carton for a few seconds, the droplets of water that formed on the outside cool against your fingers. On a normal day, you would have refused the milk vehemently, telling the other person not to worry and to have the last carton. But today wasn’t any other day.

And Chan wasn’t any other person. 

We’re friends, after all, is what echoes in your mind as you look up at the boy walking towards you, two packets of ramen in his hand and a carton of strawberry milk. Smiling at him, you finally express your gratitude for his kind sacrifice. 

“Thanks for this,” you say, waving the carton in front of him. “I don’t think I would have made it through the night without it.” 

Nodding with a smile, he tears his two packets of ramen open and pours in the hot water that was situated at the back of the store, grabbing yours from you in the process. “What brings you here at this hour? I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be craving ramen and chocolate milk in the middle of the night on any other day.”

“You’re right about that,” you reply dejectedly, recalling the big pile of assignments waiting for you back at the apartment. “It’s hell month in school, and I’m drowning in work. On top of that, Changbin exhausted every single food source we have at home!”

Chan does his very best to hold back his laughter at your expression; he knew you were angry, but you looked as threatening as a kitten. And thankfully he succeeds, because he really did not want to be on the receiving end of your wrath. Although, he thinks, you really are not going to be able to do much damage.

“How dare he,” Chan agrees, finally taking a seat beside you, the steam from the ramen warming his face up. “Hey but, if he hadn’t done that we wouldn’t have bumped into each other here.” 

You nod your head in agreement, thinking about how to start a casual conversation, when you are suddenly hit with the realisation that you knew essentially nothing about Chan. You didn’t know what university he went to, what he majored in, and what he was doing in the convenience store that late at night too. 

One question at a time, you decide. 

“What are you doing out this late anyway?” you ask, slurping the noodles and breathing out in relief at the taste of the ramen against your tongue. 

“I come here often,” is what he replies, before taking a sip of his milk. “My uni’s about fifteen minutes from here, and I usually work the best at this time. Being a music production major, there aren’t very strict deadlines, but I’ve still got to get my shit done.” 

Oh. That’s all your questions answered. 

You know the trouble of trying to get questions out, especially for you, who has never really made the effort in going the extra mile in interacting with people. It’s annoying and nerve-wrecking, and probably the biggest reason why you refused making new friends. The whole process was just painful. So, when Chan answers your unasked questions, you feel the hypothetical weight lifting off your shoulder, and you open your mouth to express your gratitude. At least, that’s what you had planned to do. 

“Are you a mind reader?” you blurt out, before immediately clamping your mouth shut and facepalming. “Ugh, sorry. I have a really bad habit of blurting out whatever comes to my mind.” You groan at your inconvenient habit, and Chan pats the top of your hand in hopes of comforting you.

“I just meant to say that I was thinking of asking you those questions and you answered them even before I asked.” Chan looks at you with a smile, intrigued by your personality. You clearly didn’t have any other friends other than Changbin—but you never looked as if you were upset about it. It was also clear that you were content with not interacting with people, but when you did, you were never rude about it and you really did try your best. Never in a million years would he have thought that the student scurrying around the library with tons of books would turn out to be someone like you. 

“At least that means you’re an honest person!” Chan says, beaming at you. “C’mon, learn to look at the brighter side of things.” 

Shrugging your shoulders with a tired smile on your face, you turn back to your ramen, which has now gone soggy due to your little chit-chat with the boy beside you. 

There’s a comfortable silence that hangs between the two of you, until Chan speaks up again. “What’s your major? I realised I never asked.” 

At the mention of school, you pull an automatic stank face before replying. “English Lit with a minor in Philosophy. The worst decision of my life.” 

“And why’s that?”

“I never knew there’d be this much essay writing!” you cry out, throwing your head against the table. The rest of your words come out muffled, but somehow Chan manages to catch it. “I mean, I knew there was going to be lots of essays. But not this much.” 

“In the major’s defense, that’s kind of a dumb move on your part, Y/n.”

“Yes, I know. Please don’t remind me of my idiocy.” You finally sit up, before sadly chewing on your noodles. “At least I have ramen and chocolate milk to keep me going.” 

And as the night went on, both of you continued the conversation back and forth, you learning more about him and him about you. You talk about your assignments, how annoying some of your professors were, and how living with Changbin was. All the times you had to chase him to clean up after himself, or all the times he stayed up with you until ungodly hours just because you had procrastinated too much and was rushing an assignment in the last hour. You also learnt more about Chan; how he was studying music production because that was his dream since he was young, and how he actually roomed with Jisung, who was equally as messy as Changbin. The only difference was that Chan couldn’t be bothered about the mess. 

“Changbin, Jisung, and I actually used to make tracks and post them on Soundcloud,” Chan says, smiling as he recalls the three high schoolers cooped up in his room with the bare minimum equipment that wiped out half their savings. “We even had rapper names.” 

“Ooooo~” you tease, nudging his shoulder as his ears start to turn a bright red. “What was yours?” 

“What’s in the past should stay in the past, Y/n. Let bygones be bygones. No point talking about it now.”

“Awww, c’mon!” You plead, fidgeting in your seat. “Was it something embarrassing like Cheminem, or something?” 

“I can’t help but feel more relaxed when your standards are that low,” Chan says, with some form of relief in his voice. “Uh, mine was CB97.” 

“Don’t tell me…” you mutter, eyes wide as the laughter threatens to escape your lips. “Did you really just use your initials and your birth year? Talk about bare minimum!” 

“Hey! It’s better than Meminen, or Cheminem, or whatever you said earlier.”

Sticking your tongue out at him, you decide to probe further. “What were Jisung’s and Changbin’s?” 

Chan stares at you with wide eyes, your mischievous eyes giving away your evil plans. “No. Changbin will kill me.”

“Don’t be a party pooper! I’ll treat you to ramen next time if you tell me.” You try tempting Chan with food, with no hopes that it would work. But somehow, you see his resolve crumbling, and realise that you just needed one final push. 

“I’ll get you chocolate milk and two packets of ramen.” 

At that point, Chan regrets telling you his habit of eating two packets of ramen with chocolate milk almost every night when he stays up. “You shouldn’t have given me the milk then!” is what you said while chiding him, and he just claimed that “you looked like you needed it more than me” while saying that he really wasn’t picky about the flavour of milk. 

So when you tempt him with his cravings, he has no choice but to give in.

Twenty minutes later, you walk into your shared apartment, a mysterious smile playing on your lips as you drop the keys into the little holder by the door. It was made by yours truly during a random pottery workshop you signed up for. The shape was slightly off, and the colour wasn’t bright or vibrant—but it worked and that’s what mattered. 

At the sound of the keys clinking in the holder, Changbin’s head shoots up to gauge your mood from your expression. Surely you would be at least a little less angry after your little run to the convenience store, he thought. 

But instead of seeing a blank expression, or even an angry one, he sees the smile on your face and his heart drops. Why were you smiling? The fact that you were smiling made him feel a hundred times worse, and he had already started saying his prayers.

“So, Changbin…” you start, leaning against one of the chairs at the dining table. You weren’t even angry about the empty shelves anymore, but you just could not pass on the opportunity of teasing your best friend. “Or should I say, SpearB?”

And you’re more than content with the way his face morphs into that of horror, as he grips the edges of the table. “How did you know?” he asks, his voice strained and barely above a whisper; one would think that the whole world had found out about his darkest secret from the way he was reacting. 

Shrugging playfully, you go back to your seat and sort out the papers scattered around the table, grabbing your laptop to start working on your assignment again with a full and happy stomach. “Who knows~”

“Y/n, tell me,” he starts to whine, making his way to you on his roller chair. “No one knows other than the boys-”

And the realisation of who the culprit was hits him.

“It was Chan, right?” he asks, already reaching for his phone to scold the older boy. “You must have met him when you went to the store—he’s always getting ramen there.” Typing furiously on his phone, he pauses to look up and whine again. “I can’t believe you two gossiped about me! And it was me who made you both become friends. The disrespect!” 

Finally the laughter you had been holding in breaks out and floods the living room, the sound bouncing off the walls. “I can’t believe,” you start, trying to catch your breath as you continue laughing. “SpearB! What do you do? Impale people with your sharp flow and rhyme?”

“Just shut up, please,” Changbin pleads, plugging his ears with his fingers. “La la la, I can’t hear anything you’re saying.” He rolls back to his side of the table and grabs the headphones, shoving it over his head to drown out your laughter. 

Your laugh fest is cut off by your phone vibrating, signalling that you had a new text message. Grabbing it, you tap your phone a few times to open up the messages page. 

chan: can’t believe you outed me to changbin chan: traitor y/n: drama queen y/n: i said nth, he figured it out on his own chan: ఠ_ಠ

Giggling at the emoticon Chan used, you unconsciously lean back in your seat as you search your gallery for an emoticon to reply with, assignments forgotten. 

“Who’re you texting?” Changbin asks, having heard you giggle at your phone. He’s eyeing you suspiciously, and you knew it was better to answer him, because a curious Changbin is a dangerous Changbin, and he’ll probably stomp over and snatch your phone to see who you were texting anyway. “It’s Chan.”

“When did you two exchange numbers?!”

“Earlier, when we met at the convenience store.” 

It was right before the both of you parted ways; when Chan had proposed something that was pretty much impossible to turn down. 

“I had fun today,” he said, one hand stuffed in his pocket while the other swung the plastic bag containing some chocolates to add to his secret sweet stash. “You said you’re having hell month, right? Hit me up whenever you need an emergency ramen run.” And with that, he pushed his phone into your hands, signalling for you to do the same. 

Smiling to yourself, you keyed in your number into the phone clutched in your hand, saving yourself as “Y/n”, and before you could regret your decision, you quickly added a smiley after your name and tossed the phone back to Chan. “Here you go.” 

The cool metal is being pressed into your hands, and before you know it, you’ve said your farewell to Chan and were on your way back home. 

“Look at you socialising out of your own will,” Changbin states proudly, wiping an imaginary tear as he gives you a fatherly (or what he thinks is fatherly) smile. “Albeit, at the expense of my shame, but if it means my little Y/n making more friends then why not!” 

“Please stop, you’re an embarrassment to me, yourself, and literally everyone around us,” you deadpan, clearing your side of the table up. It was time to call it a night, because God knows you’re not going to be able to do anymore work. “Besides, it’s really not that big of a deal. I doubt we’ll continue talking after tonight. It’s probably a one-off thing.”

“Hmmm I wouldn’t be too sure,” Changbin muses. “I feel like there’s something that’ll come out of this.”

vii. 

Seo Changbin isn’t a lot of things. 

He isn’t tidy, opting to throw his clothes all around his room instead of folding it; he isn’t patient, always screaming at you to “Hurry your ass!” when he had been waiting barely three minutes; and last but not least, he definitely isn’t punctual. “Changbin is my name, and being late is my game” is something you’ve heard way too often from him that it was a wonder you hadn’t murdered him yet.

Changbin isn’t a lot of things—but what he somehow is, is intuitive when it comes to you.

So when you find yourself back at the convenience store at 12:30 a.m., ramen and chocolate milk in front of you as you laugh over some stupid story Chan was saying, you can’t help but curse at how right your best friend was. 

You were reaching the end of your hell month, which also indicated it being four weeks since you and Chan had developed the routine of pigging out at the convenience store at terrible hours. 

“... and he just fell off the tree!” Chan concludes his story of how Hyunjin fell off a tree in high school, words coming out breathless due to how much the both of you were laughing. “Ah, that brings back memories.”

“I can’t believe I never talked to you guys more then,” you say, shaking your head slightly. “It would’ve been hilarious.”

“Someone was too busy with Voldemort,” Chan teases, pushing his nose down flat in what you could only describe as a Voldemort impression. Laughing, you swat his hand away while rolling your eyes at the boy you’ve grown so fond of in a span of four weeks. “Why’d you never talk to us?” 

Thinking back to high school, you ask yourself. Why didn’t you ever bother talking to them?

“I guess it’s just cause I already had Changbin,” you start, pausing to think back to the past few years. “As much as I complain about him, he’s really one of the greatest best friends anyone could ask for.”

It was true; Changbin was there for you during high school like no one else had been, and for that you were eternally grateful for him.

“So you were scared to take any other chances since you already got the best?” 

People always asked you why you didn’t make more friends in high school. Hell, even your mother kept asking, when other parents struggled to keep their children at home just because they were spending too much time out with friends. But the answer to that question was something you never thought about, and you can’t stop the feeling of shock spreading through your body at what the boy in front of you had just so casually uttered. 

You were scared.

“I-I…” you stutter, eyes wide as you stare at the boy in front of you. Chan can’t help the worry that seeps into his face at his words, and he’s starting to wonder if he said anything wrong. “I’ve never ever thought about it. But, oh my God, that makes so much sense.” 

After years of waving everyone who asked you why you never made any other friends away just because you yourself didn’t have the answer to the question, you’re hit with a huge realisation of just why you didn’t want to find more friends. And it wasn’t even you who figured it out. 

This boy sitting leisurely in front of you, skin pale and soft, with messy black hair framing his face that he never bothered brushing away. This boy, who was as kind as he was hardworking, always willing to help out anyone, even with his own responsibilities. This boy who had been readily there for you at the devil hours for almost every day in the past four weeks, always checking up on you to make sure that you were surviving.

Never in a million years would you have expected someone to figure out something that was locked away so deep inside of your heart, and for it to be Chan, out of everyone. The thought makes your heart race a little, but you decide to blame it on the conversation the both of you were having. It was definitely not because of the boy seated beside you.

“Shocking, huh,” Chan starts, laughing slightly as the worry he had felt earlier replaced with something he could only describe as fondness. “It’s a pity though.” 

You look at him questioningly, and what he says next makes you realise a few things that maybe you were better off not realising. 

“We would’ve been much happier in high school with you there. I would’ve been much happier.” 

As much as you regretted not befriending the other seven boys in high school, you were starting to regret bumping into Chan that very first night even more. If you hadn’t bumped into him, you would’ve never spent so much time with him, never realised how great of a person he was, and lastly, you would’ve never started falling for Bang Chan.

viii.

It’s like déjà vu.

With your exams and assignments completed, you find yourself watching the latest season of Haikyuu when Changbin enters the room, waltzing towards your reclined figure. 

“Y/n~” Changbin starts, poking your shoulder to get your attention. “Whatever your annoying ass needs now, it’s a no,” you say without even turning to look at the boy beside you.

“Oh? Even if it was an invitation to dinner with the boys later tonight?” 

And when your head whips to the side to look at your best friend, you’re so tempted to just wipe that smirk clean off his face, because the bitch knew you would have said yes.

“I fucking hate you,” is what you can mutter, before switching the television and throwing the remote to the side, choosing to ignore Changbin as you walk towards your room to pick an outfit. But you’re forced to stop in your tracks when Changbin casually utters the next few words.

“Chan’s especially excited to see you.”

You’re not sure what Changbin means by that, but there’s no denying the increase in your heart rate at the mention of the dimpled boy. 

“What?” You try your best to sound as nonchalant as you could, hoping that your best friend wouldn’t pick up the slight quiver in your voice. But, of course, he wasn’t your best friend for nothing. 

“I said, your little boyfriend’s excited to see you.” Changbin smirks at your expression, stretching his legs out to rest it on the coffee table in front of your sofa. “And it looks like you’re just as excited.” 

Red travels up your neck and spreads across your face, as you sputter at your best friend’s preposterous words. “W-what are you- I- Huh-”

Realising that your little breakdown wasn’t helping your case at all, you take a deep breath to calm yourself, before speaking to the insolent brat in front of you. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“But you like him, don’t you?”

You freeze like a deer caught in headlights, and the first instinct you have is to play dumb. “O-of course I like him. He’s my friend.”

“I will pretend like I did not hear that pathetic attempt of you trying to act dumb,” Changbin states robotically, rolling his eyes. “C’mon, Y/n. It’s obvious. So stop pretending and just fess up. It’ll be easier for the both of us.” 

You had two choices now: Either fess up and prepare yourself for at least a thousand years of teasing, or just completely deny it till your deathbed. 

Clearly, the second option was much more appealing. 

“No, Changbin,” you snap with as much conviction as you could. “I do not have a crush on Chan. He’s just a really good friend.”

The knowing look on his face wavers, and you know that you’re seconds away from success. It’s not that you did not trust your best friend with the information of you having a crush on one of his friends. You just did not want to say it out loud—saying it out loud would mean that you were confirming it, and there will be no going back. And that scared you. 

You were scared of liking someone who was way too perfect, and who probably would never like you back. 

So the best solution was to keep your little crush hidden away in the depths of your heart, and slowly get over it as soon as you could. It was as easy as it could get.

ix.

Apparently, you realise, it wasn’t at all easy to get over a simple crush. 

The smell of meat fills your nostrils as the eight boys chatter loudly over the sound of the sizzling of the food. You’re back at the same restaurant, with the same boys, except it wasn’t exactly the same as the last time. 

This time, you had a raging crush on the boy who insisted on sitting beside you, leg brushing against yours every few seconds as he piles the food on your plate instead of his. 

It definitely didn’t help that every time your hands brushed while reaching out for the side dishes around the table, you pulled your hand back as if you had just been burned, ears immediately heating up. 

“Did you know Chan told Y/n about 3RACHA?” Changbin whines to Jisung, making him stop his actions mid-way, meat hanging from the chopsticks just a few inches away from his mouth. “All I heard the past few weeks was ‘SpearB, help me’, ‘SpearB, go there’. It was torture.”

The table goes silent at the new information Changbin had revealed, and all you can do is smile sheepishly as your friends stare at the both of you. 

“These two have been meeting almost everyday the past few weeks to get ramen at weird timings, and I’m pretty sure Y/n has lots of quality dirt on us now,” Changbin says pointedly, completely ignoring the way your eyes widened because why would he just say that?

It already wasn’t easy keeping Changbin in check with his little fantasies every time you went out to meet Chan, and now it was going to be worse because you just knew that the six other boys were going to question you from their expressions. 

You turn to look at Chan, expecting to see the same ‘busted’ expression on his face, but all you see is a guilty smile, before he opens his mouth to speak. “In my defense, I was bribed.” 

“Yes but, you never told us your 3RACHA names even after we kept begging you for weeks,” Hyunjin speaks up, eyes wide in disbelief. “We had to bribe you with a new game for your console, but you just told Y/n after two packets of ramen and chocolate milk?” 

Your heart rate picks up speed just a fraction after hearing Hyunjin’s words, and you can’t help but feel a little special that Chan was comfortable enough to tell you things he refused to tell others. There’s a small smile playing at your lips as you look at the boy beside you, who was now rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly as he tried his best to defend himself from the accusations that were now pouring out from all his friends. 

Unbeknownst to you, your own best friend was watching the both of you since the night started, a glint in his eye as he catches the way you threw small glances at his friend, blushing every time your hands brushed or when Chan purposely picked out the meat that was grilled best to put on your plate. 

He also didn’t miss the soft smile playing at Chan’s lips every time you laughed at another stupid joke Jisung cracked, head thrown back slightly as you clutched your stomach, or the way his eyes widened every time you leaned a little too close to him to reach for a side dish. 

Fools, is what he thinks when he eyes his two best friends. Fools in love.

The night goes on, and it’s Changbin who proposes a game of who can finish a bottle of soju the fastest to make things more exciting. You already know how it was going to end when you see the soju bottles crowding the table, all screaming the obvious outcome of the night.

“Rule’s simple. We’ll have two people against each other, and the one that loses has to pay their opponent’s share for tonight’s dinner.” 

You notice Changbin avoiding your eyes as he speaks and distributes the bottle, which could be attributed to the very scary death glare you were throwing right at him. 

Here’s the thing—your alcohol tolerance was shit. And Changbin knew that, making you wonder what he had planned up his sleeve.

“Right, here’s the lineup,” he announces, making it seem as if the lot of you were in some world championship of sorts. “Hyunjin and Jisung”—there’s a loud ‘Die, bitch!’ that resounds from Jisung as they both get ready to win against each other—“Seungmin and Felix, Minho and Jeongin, and Chan and Y/n!” 

You were going to kill that idiot. 

Changbin starts off the game with a recap of the rules, and makes sure that everyone has their own bottle of alcohol. Disaster is the only word flashing in your mind, and you’re on the verge of ditching your friends to return to the comfort of your room. 

“Jisung and Hyunjin first!” Changbin instructs, to which the two boys grab their bottles and have a stare-down with each other. 

“I’m gonna win so hard, your ancestors are gonna feel it.”

“Let’s see you try, pretty boy.” 

On Changbin’s cue, the two boys start gulping down the alcohol, and you visibly cringe at the ghost feeling of the taste on your tongue. 

“Are you okay?” Chan whispers from beside you, eyebrows furrowed. “It’s a stupid game. You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.” 

There’s a grateful smile on your face as you shake your head, letting the boy know you were okay. “I’m fine. Just worried because my alcohol tolerance isn’t that good, and I don’t want to inconvenience all of you.”

“I promise I’ll take care of you,” Chan mutters softly, staring right into your eyes. The smile slowly drops from your face as your heartbeat echoes in your ears at his words and the way he was looking at you. You so badly wanted to look away, not being used to such eye contact, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at you that makes it almost impossible for you to tear your gaze away from his twinkling eyes. 

The sound of a bottle being slammed onto the table snaps you out of your little moment with Chan, and you immediately turn away to look at what was happening at the table, taking deep, cleansing breaths to calm yourself. 

On the other side of the table, you realise that Hyunjin was the one who finished his bottle first, now having the time of his life teasing Jisung, who had about one quarter of the bottle left. 

All the boys, except Chan and Felix, were laughing their asses off—Felix was the only one comforting Jisung, while Chan was staring at the table, an unreadable expression on his face.

“There, there. It’s okay, Sung,” Felix coos, patting Jisung’s hair, as the latter sulks at his loss. 

The next two rounds proceed quickly, with Seungmin and Jeongin emerging as the winners. Everyone stares shell shocked, as Jeongin gulps down the liquid with vigour and speed, and slams his bottle down onto the table with a grin.

“There’s no way! I can’t believe Minho lost to a baby!”

“Just because he’s the youngest doesn’t mean he’s a baby, Changbin.” Seungmin deadpans, swiftly moving the empty bottles to the side of the table. “And how come you’re not participating?”

“Someone needs to bring Y/n back,” Changbin shrugs, passing the bottles to Chan and you with a guilty smile in return to your scowl. “And I’d rather stay sober when taking care of drunk children.”

You turn to pass the bottle to Chan, quickly avoiding his gaze when he looks at you. You’re not confident in your abilities to keep the blush down if he was going to look at you the way he did before. 

“Okay,” Changbin cues, making sure both of you were ready with the bottle caps off. “Ready, set… Go!”

You didn’t mind paying for Chan’s share for dinner, you really didn’t. But if there was something about you that was both your downfall and pride, it was your competitiveness. You were competitive to the point where you tended to disregard the consequences of your actions. 

So, your brain doesn’t register the painful consequences of your actions as you gulp down the bottle of alcohol like your life depended on it. You weren’t the best drinker out there, but you were going to try your very damn best because it was a competition. 

With no expectation of winning, you swallow the last drop of soju and slam the bottle back onto the table, when you realise that everyone was staring at the two of you with their mouths open—specifically at Chan.

Following their gaze, your eyes widen in surprise as you see the boy holding an almost half-full bottle of soju, clearly indicating that you were the winner of your little game. 

It’s like a dam breaks, and suddenly everyone’s shouting at the unexpected outcome. Hyunjin and  Jisung scream while looking back and forth the bottle and Chan, while Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin sit with wide eyes and open mouths, unable to process that Chan just lost to you.

On the other hand, Changbin watches Chan with a smirk, which slowly drops when he realises that Minho, who was sitting beside him, was staring at him with raised eyebrows, clearly asking the question ‘What the fuck just happened?’.

Just as he’s about to pull Changbin to the side to question him, you shoot up from your seat, stumbling around almost immediately because of the sudden bout of dizziness that hit you. You fall back onto your seat as fast you had gotten up, and Chan wraps an arm around you almost instinctively, making sure you didn’t fall off your seat. 

The table is back to having their own conversations a few minutes later, as if they weren't just screaming over your victory, with Hyunjin and Jisung having a rock-paper-scissors tournament between themselves, proposed by Jisung who was still sore about losing to Hyunjin.

Alcohol clouds your mind as your head lols back and forth, with soft giggles spilling from your lips. In your drunken state, you register the arm wrapped around you, and you turn your head to look for the owner of said arm. 

Chan looks at you with the fondest smile as he tries to hold back his own chuckles at how cute your giggles were, at the same time being extremely conscious of the way you fit perfectly around his arms. He thanks his lucky stars that you were drunk as he held you, assuring him that there was no way you were going to hear how fast his heart was beating. 

“Oh?” you drawl, squinting at the boy beside you. “Who might you be?” 

And at that very moment, Chan hopes with all his heart that there is no one else who will get to witness what he was seeing right in front of him. 

There are strands of hair covering your face, cheeks red from the alcohol (and from the close proximity to him, but he doesn’t need to know that) and eyes drooping from the oncoming sleepiness. Yet, to him, you were still the most beautiful in that moment. 

“I’m Chan,” he replies sweetly, hesitating for a moment before adding more to the sentence. “Your friend.”

An exaggerated gasp escapes you as your eyes widen comically. Words tumble from your mouth, with hiccups disrupting your sentences every now and then. “Chan? Bang Chan? From high school? The really, um-" hiccup "-cute boy who tutored in the library? The super popular dude? You’re my-" hiccup "friend?”

There’s a light pink flush dusting his cheeks at your words, but he laughs nonetheless while nodding, finger reaching out to tap your nose. “Yes, I am.” 

Scrunching your nose at the contact, you continue giggling when the sound of someone clearing their throat interrupts the little exchange you and Chan were having. Chan turns to face his friends, and immediately starts coughing when he realises that they had been watching the whole scene with amused expressions. He awkwardly retracts his arm from around your waist, only for you to get up and stumble over to where Changbin was sitting, arms reaching out towards him while making grabby hands. “Changbinnnn~”

You plop yourself onto his lap, arms encircling his neck as you pull his ear closer to your mouth. Used to your drunk antics, he concedes, knowing that he’ll end up with more damage if he didn’t listen to you when you were drunk. 

When he is close enough, you cup your hands around your mouth and whisper into his ears. At least, you thought you were whispering. 

“You have really cute friends, Changbin.”

The whole table erupts into cheers at your words, and you immediately cover your mouth with a horrified expression. “Did everyone hear that?”

“You weren’t very quiet, darling,” Changbin snorts, pulling you up with him as he stands. “How are all of you getting back?” 

“We’re all crashing at Felix’s place,” Seungmin speaks up, tapping away on his phone. “The uber’s about to arrive… right now.” 

Grabbing their things, everyone except Minho, Chan, Changbin, and you, make their way out of the restaurant, shouting out hurried farewells and promises of ‘I’ll wire the money to you when I get back!’ to Changbin. 

“Okay, Minho and I will go settle the bill,” Changbin says, readjusting his grip on you. “Chan, can you look after Y/n for a bit?”

“Sure,” Chan replies, looping your arm around his neck as his snakes around your waist. “We’ll be out at the front.”

The moment Chan leaves their sight with you by his side, Minho turns to bombard Changbin with all the questions that had been bothering him the whole night.

“What was that?” Minho asks in bewilderment, pointing to the door that Chan and you had exited from. “How on earth did Chan lose that game when he’s the best drinker amongst all of us?!” 

“It’s called being in love,” Changbin scoffs, shaking his head at his two friends. “Disgusting.” 

The distressed look on Minho’s face dissolves, and is replaced by what one could describe as enlightenment. “No fucking way. I was wondering why he kept smiling at them like an idiot. That explains so much! Have they confessed?”

“You think?” Changbin rolls his eyes, knowing that there was no way either of you had the courage to confess first. “The only way either of them will confess is if they are drunk.” 

“But Y/n is dru-” Minho starts in confusion, when he stops mid-sentence, realising what Changbin had just done. “You evil genius.”

“What can I say,” Changbin states proudly, brushing imaginary dirt off his shoulder. “I wonder what’s going on outside,” he mutters under his breath, staring at the door. 

On the other side of the door, Chan finally succeeds in getting you to sit down with him on a curb, his jacket folded neatly under your bottom to make sure that you were not sitting on the hard cement. “I’m tired,” you whine, head dropping onto the warm shoulder beside you. 

Chan tenses up at the sudden contact, staring at the top of your head, when you nuzzle your cheek against his shoulder. At the feeling of your cheek against his shoulder, he relaxes, and positions himself such that you didn’t have to strain your neck. 

There’s a comfortable silence between the both of you, until you decide to break it by asking Chan a very obvious question.

“We’re close friends right?” 

You lift your head from Chan’s shoulder, almost whining out loud at the loss of comfort, but you decide that asking him that question was more important. Clearly, drunk you had very different priorities. 

Chan just nods and replies with a soft “Of course”, wondering why you were suddenly asking that question. “Why?”

“Since we’re close friends, can I tell you a secret?” The last few words are spoken in a hushed whisper, as you reach out and grasp Chan’s soft and warm hands. His larger hands clasps yours, as he chuckles at your question. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Y/n. You’re drunk, and you might regret telling me when you sober up.”

“No!” You almost shout, alarming Chan who looks around to make sure no one heard your exclamation. You continue in a softer tone, to Chan’s relief. “You’re my close friend! So I won’t regret it.” 

And the wide smile you show Chan almost makes him want to kiss you right there and then. Almost. 

“Alright then,” Chan agrees, rubbing circles into the skin on your hand. “Go ahead, tell me your secret.”

Giggling, you use your free hand to beckon him closer, your face moving closer to his at the same time. Just as his ear is close enough to you, you whisper out the words that make his heart stop. 

“I think I like you.” 

He freezes in place, eyes staring at the black tar road ahead of him as his heart hammers against his ribcage because of your nonchalant words. He gulps before slowly turning to face you, the person he had grown to like more than he could ever imagine coming into his view. He takes quick, shallow breaths as he continues to stare at you, unsure of what to say. 

Luckily (or unluckily, for Chan), you decide to continue talking, baring your heart and soul to him. 

“It’s like...” you start, trailing off after your first two words, before finding the right words to continue. “It’s like I was always happy in life, but you made me realise that it was possible for me to be happier when you are there with me.”

And the smile you give Chan, accompanied with the words you had just uttered, makes him want to protect you from the rest of the world. He’s not sure if he loves you, but what he’s sure about is that all he wants to do is hug you and never let go, to be there for you every minute, every second. And he thinks that’s enough. 

That’s enough reason to hold onto you and never let go.

Opening his mouth, Chan is about to reply to your drunk confession, when the sound of soft snores fill his ears. 

Leaning against the light pole that was situated very conveniently behind you, you had fallen asleep in the split second Chan had taken to make his move. Your chest rises and falls with every breath you take, and Chan can’t help but breath out a laugh at your timing. 

There’s always tomorrow, he thinks.

x.

There’s white noise playing in your ear as you stare up at your ceiling.

Changbin is seated at the edge of your bed saying something important, you assume. You aren’t listening; your brain cells have decided to go on a strike and replay the scene from yesterday on loop. 

I think I like you.

You want to scream. You want to scream and murder the boy sitting beside you so bad. After all, it was his fault that you ingested that goddamn devil liquid that made you spill more than your guts. 

It was a wonder that you were able to find a friend as precious as Chan, and there you lay in despair, all thoughts of facing Chan again slowly slipping away from your fingertips. There was absolutely no way you were going to be able to see him after the stunt you pulled yesterday. 

“Y/n, are you listening?!”

“No.” 

A hand wraps around your arm and you feel yourself being pulled up, coming face-to-face with your distressed best friend. “Stop being stubborn. Calm down and listen to what I have to say.”

And that’s when you snap.

“Stubborn!?” you shriek, clutching the ends of your hair. “I just confessed to your friend, Seo Changbin. I was drunk, and I confessed my very large and real crush to the person I am crushing on. I have ruined any chance at friendship with him, so don’t tell me to stop being stubborn and to calm down!”

Taking a deep breath, Changbin pulls you towards him, both his hands resting against your cheeks. “Listen here. Stop being a wuss. Yes, you confessed when you were drunk. Yes, it’s embarrassing as fuck. But get over it. You know Chan. Is he the kind of asshole who drops friendship over small things like rejection?” 

There’s a pout playing at your lips as you shake your head, partly due to the way Changbin was squishing your cheeks, and the other half because you knew he was right. 

“But I still don’t want to face him yet,” you whine, pushing his hands away from your face and diving back into your covers. “I just want to wallow in self pity, and hopefully waste away on this bed so that I’ll never have to face anyone ever again.”

Changbin knows that there was no convincing you otherwise, so he settles for sighing and getting up from your bed. 

“Don’t stay in bed for too long. I’ll order us food for later.”

Muttering something under your breath, you roll over and bury your face into your pillow, sighing as you think about the boy whose smile gave you more warmth than the sun could ever provide.

You’re in the midst of imagining how different today would’ve been if you hadn’t opened your dumb mouth when your phone rings and cuts off your thoughts. Reaching out for it, your mouth runs dry when you see the name displayed on your screen.

“Chan :)”

Your finger presses the decline button and your phone clatters against your bedside table as you decide that you are not ready to talk to Chan yet. And you’re not sure if you’ll ever be ready to talk to him, let alone face him. 

A minute after declining the call, there’s a series of knocks on your door, and you shout out a “Go away!”, not wanting to hear anything related to Chan and how you need to stop being a coward. But as the knocking continues, getting louder as time passes, you start getting annoying and realise you have no choice but to open the door.

“What the fuck do you want, Chang-”

You cut yourself off as you take in the person standing in front of you with wide eyes, looking as handsome as ever even with the furious look painted on his face. 

The silence is thick with tension, and you can’t help but avert your eyes, choosing to look at anything but the boy in front of you. 

“Why are you ignoring me?” Chan asks, voice quiet and flat. “I’ve been calling and texting you all morning.” 

“Um, I-” you start, not knowing how to answer his question. You imagined your day going various ways, but this definitely wasn’t in your plans. “Did Changbin call you?”

“I asked,” he starts, walking towards you. You take a few steps a back, and continue walking backwards until your hands come into contact with your dresser. You were trapped. “Why are you ignoring me, Y/n?”

You blink rapidly, not used to this closed-off version of Chan. The usual warmth and softness in his eyes were missing, and instead all you saw was disappointment and anger. You open your mouth to speak, but it wasn’t easy to get the words out. 

“Was it funny messing with me?” Chan continues, not breaking eye contact with you once. “To just get my hopes up and disappear like it all meant nothing?” 

“W-what?” 

“How was it so easy for you to just start ignoring me?” 

“No I-”

“Is that all I mean to you?” And instead of the disappointment and anger, you see pure, unfiltered hurt, and that was enough for your walls to come crashing down. Tears well up in your eyes as you look at the boy in front of you, and it’s like a dam breaks. 

“I’m sorry.” Sobs wreck your body as you wipe the tears that don’t seem to stop. “I-I’m so fucking sorry, Chan. I was scared.”

“Scared because you just said that in the spur of moment and you don’t actually mean it?”

“No, I was scared because I like you too fucking much!”

There’s a pregnant silence between the two of you, and you continue staring at the floor, vision blur with stubborn tears that refuse to fall. And that’s when you hear it.

A chuckle. 

It’s soft, and you would’ve missed it if not for the pin drop silence in the room. 

You slowly lift your head up to confirm if you actually heard what you heard, or if you were hallucinating, when you see it. 

Chan was smiling. 

“Can’t believe it worked.” 

What on earth did that mean?

“W-what do you mean?” you ask, sniffing softly. 

“This was Changbin’s idea. For the record, I was against it.” Chan’s hands come up to rest on your cheeks, his thumb wiping away the tears on your cheeks as he smiles softly at you. “I mean, of course I was hurt and worried. But I just wanted to come over and talk it over like a normal person.”

His smile widens as one hand continues cupping your face, while the other reaches to tuck the one stray strand of hair behind your ear. “He said you’ll never admit things unless I, uh, scared you a little.

You stare at Chan as the gears work in your head, putting the pieces of information. The moment the last piece clicks in place, you stare in shock at the boy standing in front of you with a sheepish smile.

“What the fuck?!” you yell, equal parts of relief and anger taking over your mind. “I fucking hate you!”

And with that you storm off towards your door, Chan chasing after you with apologies spilling from his mouth. But the both of you knew that you weren’t actually upset, which can be seen by the giggles accompanying every apology.

Just as you’re about to leave your room, you’re pulled back into warm arms, and you fight every urge to melt right into his embrace. His arms wrap around your frame tightly, but gently. You feel his strong heartbeat against your back, and it’s enough to make you shiver, goosebumps erupting all over your skin. 

“Do you hate me?” Chan asks, chin resting on your shoulder as you feel his breath tickle your neck. 

“Yes.”

“Really?” Chan asks in amusement, lips against your ears and voice just above a whisper. “That’s a pity then. Because I like you too fucking much too.” 

He whispers the last part of the sentence, making your knees go weak and your heartbeat pick up its pace as it usually does whenever the boy who stole your heart was involved. 

You turn around in his arms to face him, sighing contentedly at how things ended up turning out.  “I’m really sorry about the ghosting.”

“It’s okay, love,” Chan assures you, the pet name inducing butterflies in your stomach. “I would’ve been embarrassed too, if I had confessed to you when I was drunk.”

“I would’ve loved to see that.” You whine at the unfortunate circumstance of you confessing instead of Chan. “I probably looked like an idiot while confessing.”

“Since I’m your boyfriend, can I tell you a secret?” Chan teases, repeating what you said the night before with a little twist. Smacking his arm lightly for the jab, you nod with a laugh, ignoring the way your face heats up when he refers to himself as your boyfriend.  

“I really wanted to kiss you when you were confessing.” There’s mirth in Chan’s eyes as he gazes at you the same way he did back at the restaurant. The only difference was that you knew he liked you back. And you had never been happier. 

“Go for it.”

And that’s all the confirmation that Chan needs to lean down and press his lips against yours in a feather-light kiss, as your hands rest on his chest, appreciating the strong beat his heart was playing. 

You part a few seconds later, eyes still closed as a smile plays on both your lips, before you’re pulled for another kiss, this one more forceful than the one before. His lips press against yours harder, and his arms pull you closer—as close as you could be. You respond with equal fervor, pouring every emotion you have into the kiss, when you’re interrupted by a loud cough. 

“I would appreciate it if I didn’t have to bleach my eyes every time I see the two of you.”

Oh. 

It completely slipped your mind that Changbin was just a few steps away from your room, and you want to crawl under your bed and befriend the monster there when you see the haughty smile on your best friend’s face. 

“I think a thanks is in order.”

Removing yourself from Chan’s arms, you walk over to Changbin, who smiles wider when he realises you are walking towards him. Opening his arms to welcome you in for a hug, he can’t help but shriek when you start punching him everywhere possible.

“Dude, what is wrong with you?!”

“That’s what you get for coming up with stupid ideas to get me to talk!” you snap at your best friend with words that carry no real bite. “Were you that desperate?”

“Clearly!” Changbin replies, exasperated. “It was getting depressing. He wouldn’t stop calling me because he was worried, and you were being a stubborn bitch!” 

At his words, there’s a tinge of guilt that pinches at you when you realise the trouble you had put your best friend through. 

“Okay, I’m sorry,” you say with a pout, burying your face into Changbin’s shoulder. “And thank you.”

“Yes yes, you’re welcome,” Changbin says with a soft smile. He wouldn’t admit it just yet, but seeing his best friend who meant the world to him end up with someone who just as much deserved nothing but the best made him eternally grateful. “Now go smooch your boyfriend. We don’t want him becoming too jealous of the attention you’re giving me.”

“Oh, shut up,” is what Changbin gets in return, as Chan intertwines his hand with yours. Just as Changbin walks out of sight back to his room, Chan turns to you with the biggest smile.

“Now then, shall we go on a date to celebrate our first day?”

“Absolutely.”

And as you and Chan sit on the beach that evening, surrounded by sand and accompanied by the sound of the waves and the soft breeze with a orange hue enveloping you, you think:

Life had never been sweeter.

[mercy-burning]

Something Different

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader and Spencer go on their first date. PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4 / EPILOGUE Category: Fluff, Smut 18+ (oral sex- female receiving, penetrative sex, unprotected sex- creampie) Warnings: Sex, language (As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in warnings! I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 5.9k

NOTE: This was my favorite part to write so far! I hope you all love it as much as I do! I have a little epilogue planned next, and I’m not sure when it’ll be up, but I’ve really loved seeing how much you enjoyed this series! Thank you for reading! 🥰

***

Y/N had never felt as much like a teenage girl as she did that Friday night. She stood in front of her floor-length mirror, smoothing out her dress and contemplating whether or not she should change. For the seventh time. And she'd been on dates before, but this time was different. Usually she barely knew the guys she'd gone on first dates with, but she'd already slept with this guy. On more than one occasion. And every time she did, she felt herself fall deeper and deeper under his spell. She wasn't sure if he knew the full effect of what he was doing to her, always taking up space in every crack and crevice of her thoughts until she felt like she couldn't breathe.

And that was what made this date different from all the rest. She knew Spencer. She liked Spencer. And she was almost positive that after this date she would be, at the very least, a little bit in love with Spencer.

At that thought, Y/N felt her heart swell in her chest, suddenly invested in the act of making him feel the same way, if he wasn't already.

So she reverted back to her original outfit choice, something she at first thought was too sexy for a first date, but ultimately was the boldest and best option. It was satin and deep violet in color, the fabric clinging to her body in every best way possible. It landed mid-thigh and the neckline was low enough to show just the right amount of cleavage without it being too overwhelming. Her father would have told her it looked more like a dish towel than a dress, and that fact alone was enough to convince Y/N that it was just perfect. It did have thin straps though, and it was freezing as hell at night, so she added a black cardigan that added just the right amount of elegance and warmth to the look.

She paired the whole look together with black pumps and threw her hair up in a loose clip, made for easy taking-down if the night ended as well as she hoped.

Just as she was applying the last of her makeup—simple black eyeliner and mascara, complimented with tinted cherry lip balm rather than lipstick—there was a knock on the door.

"Just a second!" she called out, rushing to spritz on some vanilla perfume and give herself a final onceover in the mirror. With a final deep breath, she switched off the lights and made her way to the door, silently praying that she wouldn't fall on her face.

"Hey, pretty gi— oh..."

The second she saw Spencer in the doorway, Y/N felt her insides swarm with butterflies. The way he took her in, completely captured by her presence as his eyes couldn't decide where to linger longest utterly wrecked her.

And he looked... God, if he wasn't the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. And of course she'd seen him in some rather beautiful positions prior to right then, but his hungry eyes, practically claiming her as his own as they raked her figure accompanied by the outfit he wore and the way his hair perfectly framed his face in soft waves... It felt like she was bathing in sunlight.

He wore a white undershirt and navy suit jacket, the tie the same color only accented with red stripes, and black dress pants. If she had to describe it, she would have said he looked like he came right of the page of a magazine, and even that wasn't generous enough. She knew she should say something to break the silence that had fallen between them, but she couldn't even remember her own name.

Thankfully Spencer seemed to get a hold of himself before she did, saying, "You look... amazing. A-and that's not even the right word, I... Wow."

Y/N felt her cheeks grow hot, playing with the hem of her cardigan. "Thanks, you... You look great, too. Um, let me go grab my purse, I'll be right back."

"Wait, before you do..."

She hadn't even noticed his hand was behind his back until he brought it out, bringing with it a small gathering of flowers. Lavenders. "You brought me lavenders?" she inquired, taking them with a smile. "They're beautiful. Thank you."

Spencer seemed to rock on his feet nervously. "They're generally known for their relaxation properties, and, you know, I figured since we always seem to end up talking about de-stressing, they seemed fitting."

Y/N laughed, her face growing warmer. "That's perfect, I love them. I'm gonna go find a vase for these real quick."

As she rummaged through her cabinets for something even remotely resembling a vase, she settled on a tall mason jar she had in the back, filling it with water and placing the flowers inside, letting it perch on the kitchen counter. When she turned around she found that Spencer had made his way inside, the door closed behind him. "Unfortunately they won't last very long without soil, water, and sunlight, but if they dry up you could always use them for decorations. I noticed you have lots of dried plants in your apartment."

With a smile, she grabbed her purse off the coat rack in the living room. "Oh. Yeah, I guess I do. I've always loved pressing flowers and stuff. My mom and I used to do it all the time when I was younger, and I guess it stuck."

"That's really nice. It's definitely better than the clutter of my apartment," he says with a laugh as they both make their way to the door.

"Oh, I don't know. I like your clutter, it's rather charming."

He laughed as he opened the door and stepped aside so she could walk through. "You've only been to my apartment once, and we were a bit... occupied for you to notice, so how would you know?"

They paused in the hallway as she closed the door and looked up at him, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. She grabbed the end of his tie and tugged it a little, turning it over in her fingers as she stared at him. "Trust me, Spencer, it's hard to believe that anything about you isn't charming."

It was his turn to blush, his smirk transforming into a shy smile. She let go of his tie and grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together before leading him down the hallway.

***

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were surprised," Y/N said once the waiter left to grab their drinks.

"Oh, I-I guess I just... I don't know why, it's just that I didn't... expect you to be a white wine person, that's all."

"You can tell what kind of wine I like?" she laughed.

Spencer returned it, brushing some of the hair from his face. "Well, I guess not, since I pegged you wrong..."

She shrugged. "You don't have to be embarrassed about that, I wouldn't expect you to have known."

"Oh, I'm not embarrassed, it's just that usually I'm better at reading people, that's all."

"Is that right?" Y/N mused, leaning forward a little. She smiled at him. "How come?"

Spencer swallowed before answering. "Well, my job... I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, so my team and I study human behavior to catch killers."

Holy shit, that's so hot, she thought, silently hoping she didn't say that out loud. "Wow, so... you're a total badass, then. I gotta say, G-man, that's impressive."

He blushed under the dim light of the restaurant lights. He'd picked out this nice Italian place not too far from their apartment. Y/N had always wanted to go because she loved Italian food, but it was always too expensive and she never really had the time. When Spencer had suggested it, she practically begged him not to, insisting that she didn't want to make him spend so much money on her. In turn he told her, "I don't mind, you're worth spending a little money on," and that was that. Still she felt a little guilty, but he didn't seem to mind one bit. Not to mention the place was absolutely beautiful, easily one of the nicest places she'd ever been to. So if he was willing to do all this just to spend some time with her, then Y/N figured it was a good sign.

"What about you, what exactly is it that you do?"

Y/N shrugged a little. "Oh, well it's no fancy badass government job, but I work at a music store downtown. I just got promoted, so I'm an associate manager."

"Oh, that's great! What kind of music do you like?"

The way he genuinely looked so interested in what she had to say made her heart swell. She cleared her throat before answering. "My parents raised me on Classic Rock, so my brain is pretty much just made up of Queen lyrics, but... I listen to a little of everything. There isn't much I don't like, really, save for maybe hardcore metal. Though, some of it I've heard is okay."

Spencer laughed a little. "That's nice. I don't really listen to a variety of things, mostly classical, but... I don't know, maybe you could... introduce me to some of your favorites? Broaden my horizons?"

He almost sounded shy asking, but that only made the sentiment more endearing. Y/N smiled so hard her cheeks hurt. "Anytime, G-man."

The waiter came back with the wine then, and they got to ordering. Y/N ordered a lemon chicken piccata while Spencer settled on pasta alla norma. Of course they had a side of breadsticks and they each got a small tomato soup to sip on while they waited.

They continued to chat about their favorite things, anywhere from as general as their favorite books and movies to as random as their favorite flowers and candle scents. It was nice getting to know these tiny details. And normally this type of small talk was awkwardly necessary and devastatingly tedious, but with Spencer it felt effortless. She liked telling him about her favorite things, no matter how small they were, and just the same she liked listening to him. The way he spoke, his eyes lighting up as he talked about what made him happy made Y/N warm, feeling once again that night like she was bathing in sunlight.

That's what he was. The human embodiment of pure sunlight.

As they ate they talked a little bit about their childhoods. Spencer mentioned how it was mostly just him and his mother, and he almost seemed a little sad when he talked about it. She wanted to let him keep going, but at some point she realized that he was getting a little emotional and uncomfortable, so she made a point to respectfully change the subject, in turn telling some embarrassing childhood stories of her own. For one thing, she loved telling anyone about how she angrily chucked a remote at her brother when they were kids and gave him a permanent scar on his forehead, but ultimately she loved seeing Spencer smile, and she knew that the story would do the trick. It always did.

"Why did you do it?" he laughed after swallowing a bite of his food.

Y/N shrugged with a smile. "He was bugging me about wanting to watch something else, and it just annoyed me so badly that I decided I had enough. I should have been sorry, too, especially after being yelled at, but I really thought he deserved it. And now when people ask why he has this big-ass scar on his forehead, he has to tell them that his big sister chucked a remote at his head. It embarrasses him and it amuses me, so..."

Spencer laughed a little harder, setting his fork down and folding his hands together. "Sounds... like an interesting childhood."

"Yeah, that's putting it mildly. My brother and I did a lot of roughhousing, which would make more sense if he was the older one, but what are you gonna do?"

"So... What, you put him in headlocks and pinned him to the ground like a wrestler all the time?" he asked with an amused laugh.

"Yeah, something like that," she laughed right back.

"Well, I hope he hasn't sustained too much injury permanently over the years... Maybe one day I can ask him about it."

The thought of Spencer meeting her family gave her more butterflies, and it became evident that he was feeling the same way, because he blushed almost immediately after he said it.

"You two would probably get along really well, actually. He loves true crime and stuff, so I'm sure he'd love to talk to you about your job if that's not too forward. Plus, he reads more than I do, so I'm sure you'd find something else in common there."

"Yeah, that sounds great. I like him already."

She smiled, her heart still beating exponentially fast. A small part of her wondered if maybe talk of meeting family members was going too far for a first date, and on any other first date it would've been. But Spencer seemed to be genuinely entertaining the idea of meeting and discussing some of his life with her brother, and that was what flipped the switch. She was starting to feel it. She was starting to fall in love with him.

***

When the two of them got in the car, Spencer turned on the radio before they started their journey home— a Classic Rock station. Y/N smiled, immediately recognizing the melody to, coincidentally enough, her favorite Queen song, Who Wants To Live Forever. She told him as much.

He turned the volume up and started driving, listening to her sing along softly. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed him turning his head every once in a while, obviously sneaking a glance at her enjoying her favorite music. The thought sent a bloom of warmth through her chest as the song faded out and started playing Photograph by Def Leppard. Spencer turned the radio down just a little and nodded, turning down the street.

"I like it. I can see why it would be your favorite."

"This is another one of my favorites, too," she replied with a gentle nod towards the radio, giving him a smile. "A lot of these songs probably will be, though, I've practically been spoon-fed Classic Rock radio since I was a baby."

Then she noticed where they were. A street she didn't recognize. "Where are we going?" she asked, looking around.

"Oh. I-I know I only really promised to take you out for dinner, but there's somewhere else I wanted to show you... If that's alright?"

"It's more than alright," she reassured, placing a hand on his arm and wondering where he planned to take her.

He took her hand in his and continued down the road, the radio shuffling through more songs that Y/N recognized and sang along to. At one point she made a point of dramatically serenading Spencer with Love Song by Tesla, air guitar-ing and everything.

Soon enough they were out where she couldn't see any buildings and only a few streetlights. Y/N hummed softly along to the radio, holding Spencer's hand once again as he pulled the car over down a random road and under this large tree. In front of them she could clearly see the sun setting over the skyline, illuminating everything around them in a soft orange glow.

"It's beautiful out here," she mused as Spencer turned off the car, the radio with it.

"Yeah, I, uh... I was in a particularly stressful point in my life a few years ago, and one day I just drove aimlessly. I don't normally drive at all, but I needed something new, something different to do that I could focus on, and I just ended up here. It's one of my favorite places."

She looked over at him and smiled, running her thumb over his hand. "I find that some of the best things in life happen when you try something different."

His eyes softened as she spoke, squeezing her hand and leaning his head against the seat. "You're right. That's... actually how I got you, know know."

She raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Mhm... Yeah, I didn't even want to confront you about hearing what happened that night because I thought it would be too awkward, but... I don't know, I guess there was just something that felt right about the whole thing, like... like it was an opportunity to get to know someone new. And I couldn't stop thinking about knocking on your door and getting to know everything about this woman who likes to invade other people's privacy." He laughed as he said that last part, obviously teasing her about the whole thing, and she laughed with him.

"Well, then I guess that means I don't have to be embarrassed about that anymore," Y/N noted. "I felt absolutely awful about it, you know."

"Oh, I know. You were practically the color of a tomato when I gave you that Advil."

They laughed together as the sun sunk lower in the sky, and as the air between them grew silent, they just stared at each other, smiling. Even as the sun was leaving, Y/N could still feel its warmth radiating in the form of Spencer's presence.

***

They walked up to her door hand in hand, laughing about a joke she'd told him when Y/N realized the night was potentially over. The thought silenced her laughter, and suddenly she was nervous, like she hadn't already considered that the night would eventually have to end somewhere.

"I... I had a really great time tonight, Spencer, thank you. "

He smiled shyly in that way of his that made her just as shy. It was sickeningly cliché, she thought, feeling this way about a man she'd only just started to get to know, but she welcomed those feelings nonetheless. He was so obviously infatuated with her in a way she hadn't felt before, and it made her nervous because she didn't know how to react. All she could do was welcome and embrace his adoring glares and little touches and compliments, and hope that he knew in turn just how much she appreciated and adored him all the same.

His free hand reached out and cupped her cheek, to which she happily leaned into. "I did, too," he said softly, barely above a whisper. "We should do it again some time."

She smiled against his hand, and she didn't realize it then, but they were closer than they had been all night, toe to toe. "We should."

The world stopped for all of two seconds before he leaned down to kiss her. But something embarrassingly stopped her from letting it happen, pulling her face away just a little. "Wait. My breath probably smells like breadsticks."

Hardly the most romantic thing to say, and she regretted it the second it left her mouth.

Spencer only shrugged, smiling amusedly. "Who doesn't like breadsticks?"

That made her laugh. Hard. And she was still laughing as she pulled him closer and kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

When he kissed her back, it was head-dizzyingly sweet, his hands softly brushing over her cheeks as she melted into him. Every time his lips parted, he came back stronger, pressing his lips and tongue to hers with slow, methodical precision.

She could have died right there.

But eventually they pulled apart, and she looked up at him with as much gratefulness as she could provide. "Look, I... I know it's not typically customary to sleep over on the first date, but... What about trying something different?"

Spencer grinned at her, rubbing his thumb over her bottom lip. "Lead the way, pretty girl."

She couldn't hide her blush as she reached over and opened the door, pulling him into the apartment with her.

The door closed behind him, and Spencer kissed her again, this time using one of his hands to press her to him, resting promptly on her lower back. Their kisses were just as slow and sweet as they had been in the hall, though there was a slightest shift in the atmosphere, bringing forth a newfound passion behind each of their movements.

His tongue traced over her bottom lip before he took it between his teeth and tilted his head to the other side, pulling her even closer to him than she thought could be possible. They both stumbled around the living room as they kicked off their shoes. Y/N got significantly shorter after removing her heels, so Spencer bent down and lifted her off the ground, setting her on the back of the couch. Her dress had ridden up to the tops of her thighs so she could wrap her legs around his waist. She slid her cardigan off at the same time he slid off his jacket, their lips still adjoined. Once they were removed, Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck again, and he brought his arms under her ass as he lifted her off the couch

She expected the journey to her bedroom to be rocky, stumbling into furniture and walls and tripping, but was glad to be proven wrong when suddenly she was swiftly seated on her bed, Spencer standing between her legs.

He pulled away from her for all of two seconds before kneeling and pressing kisses to the insides of her right leg, starting at her ankle and trailing all the way up past her knee and eventually to her thigh. His hands reached up to grip the bed as he looked up at her and pressed kisses to her other thigh. Hoping to give him more access, she used her hands to pull her dress up even higher, scooting out from under her butt and bunching up at her hips as she spread her legs a little wider.

He smiled against her inner thigh, running one of his hands over the other. "Patience, pretty girl. I want to take my time with you tonight."

The way he said it made her shiver, and her head leaned back as she leaned back on her hands, feeling Spencer continue his exploration. His mouth travelled from thigh to thigh, doing just about everything he could think of—kissing, licking, biting... One of her hands found themselves in his hair as she sighed out, "Please, Spencer..."

For a moment she thought he wouldn't give it to her, if only because she wasn't specific enough and that had become part of their sexual routine, but this time he granted her what she wanted, one of his hands reaching up and ghosting along her clit through the fabric of her panties.

She instinctually rutted her hips forward at the contact, which made him laugh softly, and before too long, he hooked his finger in the waistband of her underwear, sliding up her dress just a little so he could reach. She lifted herself off the bed so he could bring them out from under her, and he slowly, very slowly, slid them down her legs. His lips travelled up her leg again, taking the same care and curiosity as he had before, each second burning impatiently through Y/N's body as she took it all in.

Right as his nose brushed over her clit, he pulled away, leaving her cold and desperate. She opened her eyes and looked down at him, running a hand through his hair and silently pleading to do something.

He smiled and stood up, pressing a kiss to her neck before whispering in her ear, "Will you ride my face for me, baby?"

"Oh, God, yes," she breathed before she could think, and he laughed, his breath sending goosebumps down the right side of her body.

Spencer got up on the bed and leaned back, his head resting on the pillows as Y/N straddled him, hiking her dress up over her hips and stroking the hair from his face before hovering over it. Before she could do anything, his hands wrapped up over her thighs and pulled her down to him, not wasting any time getting to work.

The initial contact jolted her awake, and she cried out, reaching forward and grabbing the top of the headboard as she ground down on him. His tongue plunged deep into her while his nose pressed against her clit, and the more she moved, the more his tongue drew patterns, wanting to taste every inch of her until she was shaking around him. And that's exactly what happened. His tongue came up to flick and swirl over her clit, and right when he wrapped his lips around it and started softly sucking, she cried out. "I'm gonna— ohh..."

He hummed into her, encouraging her to finish, and she did, clenching her thighs around his head as he shook it back and forth, lapping up every last drop of her arousal until her thighs lost their grip. She lifted up off of him, but he brought her back down to run his tongue through her pussy a few more long, meaningful times. He finally let go of her legs, and she kneeled beside him, catching her breath.

Looking down at him she noticed how wonderstruck he was, running his tongue along his lips to still taste her, his eyes searching hers hungrily before she leaned down and kissed him. The taste of herself on his mouth made her groan, and he reached up to pull the clip from her hair. It tumbled down in a curtain around them before he tossed the clip aside and ran his hands through it, gathering it all to one side and pulling her closer to him.

As he kissed her, she brought her hand to his chest, working at his tie and struggling to get it off. He laughed against her mouth and sat up to do it for her, breaking their kiss apart. Has he undid the tie and the first few buttons of his shirt, Y/N reached back to grab the zipper of her dress, but Spencer stopped her.

"Wait. Can I?"

She nodded, turning around.

"Stand up for me," he told her.

Y/N got off the bed and felt Spencer behind her, his hands brushing her hair out of the way and slowly zipping her dress down, pressing kisses down each inch of skin that exposed in its wake, all the way to her lower back. His hands slid up her back and pushed the straps off her shoulders, then tugged the dress down to watch it fall on the floor, leaving her completely bare.

He kissed her neck and ran his hands up and down her body, eventually reaching around to cup her breasts. She sighed at his touch, leaning back against him as he rolled her nipples in between his fingers. Her hands reached back to wrap around his back and pull him flush against her, the unmistakable feeling of his hardening dick through his pants pressing against her bare ass.

"I love how soft your skin is, pretty girl," he murmured into her neck, sliding his lips down to her shoulder and biting down. She sucked in a breath, her hands removing themselves from his back and placing themselves over his own, feeling the veins strain as they kneaded her breasts. His tongue traced over where he bit down before he kissed the same spot, then he worked his mouth back up her neck and reached her jawline. She turned her head, meeting his lips and pressing herself further into him, whining at every single sensation coursing through her veins.

Eventually she'd had enough and turned fully around, breaking apart from him just to come back. She faced him and wrapped her arms around his neck once more. He leaned in to kiss her again, but she stopped him, pulling her head back and using one of her hands to grip the hair at the nape of his neck. "Tonight's your lucky night, you know..."

At her teasing tone, Spencer laughed, his eyes searching hers before giving in. "Why's that?"

She used the hand that wasn't in his hair to slide over his shoulder and down his chest, drawing patterns across the bare skin he'd left exposed after undoing the first few buttons of his shirt. Then she smiled, bringing herself closer and gripping the collar. "Because I'm on birth control now..." She leaned forward and lightly brushed her lips against his, feeling them just barely as she whispered, recalling what he'd told her a few weeks ago. "You still wanna fill up this slutty little pussy? Make me yours?"

He didn't give a second thought. Before she was aware of what was happening, Spencer had his lips crashed against hers and his arms wrapped around her back, pulling her forward so that the tent in his pants pressed right up into her bare crotch. She gasped against his mouth and reached down to take the rest of his shirt all the way off, and he let her.

Her hands fumbled with the buttons, severely close to just giving up and ripping the shirt apart but she got there in the end, sliding the fabric off his shoulders and tossing it God-knows-where as his tongue slipped into her mouth. She trailed her hands softly down his chest and stomach, making him shiver, and she relished in the feeling of his lean figure tensing under her touch. She scratched her nails along the lower part of his stomach before touching his belt, and then he stopped her, grabbing her wrists.

"Sit on the edge of the bed," he commanded softly against her lips.

Y/N pulled away reluctantly, immediately missing his bodily warmth before doing as she was told and perching herself patiently at the edge of the bed.

Spencer got off his knees, climbed out of bed, and stood on the floor, coming over to her and placing himself between her legs once more. Only this time, he towered over her rather than kneeled. His hands unbuckled his belt while his eyes bore into hers, the anticipation of what was to come as high strung as it had ever been.

He pulled his pants and underwear down in one swift motion, and right a he kicked them to the side, Y/N reached out, grabbing his hips and pulling him closer. One of his hands gripped his hard cock while the other found purchase in her hair, brushing it behind her shoulders and resting at the base of her neck as he leaned down and pushed her back onto the bed. She scooted back just far enough for Spencer to kneel on the edge of the bed, her legs instinctually wrapping around his waist once more as he kissed her.

Her hands brushed the hair from his face and stayed weaved there, whimpering with anticipation as he ran the tip of his cock along her pussy, just as slowly as he'd done everything else so far. He broke their kiss apart and pushed the tip in, not going any farther than that. "I told you, pretty girl, I'm taking my time with you tonight. I want this to last."

As his forehead rested against hers, she barely caught a glimpse of his eyes before he pushed all the way in and squeezed his eyes shut. Y/N sighed and massaged his scalp, completely aware of every inch of him as he held himself inside her. He pressed just about the sweetest kiss to her lips before setting a slow pace that gradually became faster with every passing minute. She was still a little sensitive from when he'd eaten her out, but that only added to the feeling.

"Fuck, you're perfect," Spencer breathed, pulling his head just far enough away from her so he could look her in the eyes. "You're so goddamn perfect, Y/N..."

She slid her hands down his back as he picked up his pace inside her, gasping when he hit her g-spot. "Speak for yourself," she breathed.

When she started to feel herself getting closer, Spencer seemed to notice, because he slowed his pace again and ran sloppy, passionate kisses along her jaw and neck, and she reveled in the feeling. He was all around her, consuming every fiber of her being, and she could bask in it forever if he'd let her.

"Spencer," she breathed, her hands reaching down to grip his ass as he hit inside her deeper. "Fuck... You're so good to me..."

In turn he cradled her face and kissed her deeply, moving his tongue against hers in tandem with his hips' ministrations. Her fingernails bore deeper into his skin, and it wasn't long before she started to feel an orgasm surfacing. He rested his forehead against hers again, biting her bottom lip softly as he pulled away to speak. "Almost there, pretty girl. "

Y/N removed her hands from him and brought them up to bring her face to hers again, sighing into his mouth when they reconnected. And then he grabbed her wrists softly, pinning them above her head and sliding his hands up her forearms until his fingers laced together with hers, squeezing and pushing them both closer to the edge.

"Cum for me, baby," he mumbled against her lips, and within a matter of seconds, she did. Her legs tightened around him and her ankles hooked round his waist, just above the top of his ass to keep him tightly inside her while he found his own release. "Fuck," he sighed, giving three more hard thrusts forward. He held himself inside her while he came, the warmth spreading through her being just about the best thing she'd ever felt. It was the cherry on top, the last puzzle piece falling into place, and she kissed him once more while he finished, feeling him groan in her mouth.

The two of them stayed like that, their hands still laced together and legs still tangled, and even when their lips pulled apart, their foreheads rested together while their breathing slowed.

"Have I already told you how perfect you are?" Spencer breathed, nuzzling his nose against hers.

Y/N laughed a little, nuzzling him right back. "You may have mentioned it."

"Well, it's true. Everything about you is just so..."

"Perfect?" she offered.

He laughed, kissing her once more on the lips before slowly pulling out of her and unlacing their fingers. "Yes. Perfect... But as much as I love laying here with you, UTIs are not perfect, so I'm gonna get you cleaned up. Come on."

She sat up with a grunt, not wanting to get up so soon but she knew he was right. So she let him lead her to the bathroom as quickly as they can, his cum slowly sliding down her thighs when they got there. Spencer turned on the light and closed the bathroom door, a small smile on his face as he got on his knees to help.

"I can grab some toilet pa— holy shit..." Y/N was cut off when he dragged his tongue up the inside of her leg, scooping up his mess and making his way to her pussy where he cleaned out the rest of it. She was still sensitive, so he went as gently as he could, making soft, gentle swipes of his tongue until it was mostly gone, at least not dripping down her legs anymore.

When he stood up to meet her face, she felt stunned, absolutely enraptured by everything about the man in front of her. "So, does that mean I'm officially yours now?" she asked with small laugh.

He gave her that bashful smile again, and it made her feel even better, basking in the familiarity of his boldness of sexual acts followed by instant shy demeanor. "Only if you'll have me."

Y/N grabbed his face and kissed him before looking him dead in the eye and saying, "I hope I'll always have you, G-man."

[the-widow-sisters]

My Reason

Summary: When Natasha and Yelena are practicing knife-throwing, something goes wrong with Yelena. Natasha soon finds out that her sister is exceedingly touch-starved. What happens when Yelena finds out that Natasha craves affection just as much as Yelena?

Word Count: 2520

  “Alright, poser, move out of the way and let the master show you how it’s done,” Yelena told her older sister, raising an eyebrow as she took some knives from Natasha. Natasha stepped back, giving her younger sister some room as she proudly watched Yelena.

  The two of them had some time to themselves that day, and the two had decided to do a little bit of practice together to see if they could learn from one another. They were currently throwing knives, and Natasha had managed to land every one of them in the middle of the targets.

  Now that it was Yelena’s turn, Natasha was excited to see how her younger sister would do.

  “Aren’t you going to take the knives out of the targets?”

  “That would be too easy. Don’t you want a real challenge?” Yelena questioned, her eyes full of mirth and playfulness as she eyed Natasha. Natasha smiled a little in reply, wondering how Yelena was going to land any shots in the middle of the targets when Natasha’s knives were already lodged in the centers of them.

  Yelena stopped where Natasha had been standing. She eyed the target carefully before stepping to the side a bit and chucking her knife. She landed it perfectly in the middle, the blade squeezed in a tight fit directly next to Natasha’s knife.

  She repeated this multiple times before finally emptying her supply of knives. She smirked proudly before heading forward and collecting the knives from the targets. Natasha had an enormous grin on her face just from watching her sister’s skills in action, and as Yelena returned, the blonde faked a few bows.

  “That is how it’s done,” Yelena informed her before dumping all of the knives on the table except for one that she kept in her hand and was flipping around in a slight show. Natasha could see the way Yelena was looking at her. She had hope in her eyes, and she was looking at her with such pride, but there was also some anxiousness as she gazed at Natasha expectantly, presumably waiting on some sort of praise from the older woman.

  “Wow… Awesome job,” Natasha complimented finally, a loving smile on her face as she reached out and squeezed the joint between Yelena’s shoulder and neck with her hand fondly before running it up her neck slightly to cup just under Yelena’s jaw.

  Yelena automatically melted into the touch the moment that Natasha made contact. Natasha furrowed her brow, tilting her head slightly as she looked at the girl. Yelena immediately snapped to attention, realizing what she had done as she guiltily glanced in Natasha’s direction. She pulled away from the older woman, her walls surrounding her heart pulled back to their usual slightly more guarded position as she crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Yeah,” Yelena cleared her throat, seemingly recollecting herself. Natasha just watched her carefully, her thoughts flitting about in an attempt to try to understand what exactly was wrong with the younger girl.

  “Going to have to step up your game if you’re going to top that,” Yelena confidently spoke and pointed at the target in front of her, her eyebrow raised as some semblance of that signature irritatingly confident smirk came back to tug at her lips. However, Natasha could easily see the nervousness in her gaze since she could not quite meet the redhead’s eyes.

  Natasha squinted just a tiny bit, trying to decipher the nervousness, and Yelena quickly caught onto the body language before stretching in a somewhat over-exaggerated manner.

  “Well… It was fun kicking your rear and all, but I’m going to go get a shower so I don’t stink as bad as you,” Yelena insulted lightly, and Natasha smiled slightly since it was such a Yelena thing to say. Yelena reached over, offering the knife left over in her hand to Natasha. The older woman took it from her, her hand brushing Yelena’s, and the blonde quickly pulled her hand away before making her way out of the practice area. Natasha watched her leave and hesitantly let her gaze drop to the knife in her hand.

  She sighed deeply, throwing the knife in the direction of the target without looking and landing it close to the middle of the target.

  Later in the evening, Natasha and Yelena were reclined in the living room on the couch, the television running. However, Natasha was not really watching it, and her mind kept wandering to the girl that was sitting on the opposite side of the couch, curled away from Natasha a bit.

  Natasha truly was not sure what was going on with the other girl. Ever since Natasha touched her earlier that day, Yelena had been keeping her distance and trying not to get too close. Natasha was really worried that she had overstepped some boundary or upset the girl by the affection.

  However, she could not understand it. Yelena always seemed to be okay with shoulder bumps and casual things like that. And when they hugged toward the end of their adventure a while back, Yelena seemed perfectly fine with that and actually seemed as if she enjoyed it. Natasha herself had been terribly uncomfortable with touch at first, but once she realized how wonderful it was and how nice it felt, she began to treasure it. But since Yelena handled it so well so fast, Natasha had decided to try to make more contact with her, knowing that everyone reacted differently.

  So why was the shoulder squeeze such an issue?

  Natasha kept thinking it over, flashing glances in Yelena’s direction, and she finally found herself extremely worried about upsetting the girl and bringing back flashbacks or some sort of trauma that Natasha did not know about.

  After a long moment, she finally reached over and grabbed the television remote, muting it quickly.

  “Natalia! What are you doing?! How am I supposed to know who gets chopped now?!” Yelena whined, looking at Natasha desperately as she waved a hand in the direction of the television, and Natasha just returned her gaze with calm concern. Yelena suddenly seemed to catch onto what was going on, and she stiffened a bit, looking much more uncomfortable.

  “I, um…. About earlier,” Natasha started, not sure how to begin the conversation. She was not too good at discussing feelings and things, and she was almost as uncomfortable as Yelena was at the moment. Yelena shook her head, shrugging her shoulders, and Natasha let her words die off as Yelena seemed to be taking initiative on speaking about it.

  “It is nothing. You don’t need to worry about it,” Yelena spoke, and Natasha could see that there was more to it than that.

  “You’ve been avoiding me, little one… Did I upset you? I didn’t mean to bring back memories or anything—”

  “No, no, no, it is not that at all,” Yelena negated, and Natasha could see the sincerity in her dark green eyes. The redhead tilted her head, confused. She now had absolutely no idea what had caused the girl to be so uncomfortable.

  “I just… In the Red Room, we had no contact. When we received it, it was a reward. The trainers and people there knew that a small touch went a long way. Many of us… We,” Yelena paused, looking away stubbornly as she settled her gaze on the television. Natasha could tell she was not really watching it and she was more just resting her eyes on a place as she thought through her words.

  “A lot of us needed that, and it was punishable to hug or touch each other… But they used it as a sort of reward as long as it was coming from them,” Yelena spoke, and Natasha quietly listened and nodded softly. She knew that was the case. She personally had to face such hardships, but it saddened her to see that they kept such a system of training alive even during Yelena’s time in the Red Room.

  “When you touched me today… It,” Yelena trailed off, obviously terribly awkward with this and quite uncomfortable as a whole. Natasha was honestly not completely at ease either, but she was trying to at least portray some semblance of it in order to coax the words from Yelena.

  “Well, it was just really nice and I accidentally…

  “I’m sorry, it’s just… This is hard to talk about,” Yelena swallowed, and Natasha just calmly eyed her.

  “When you touch me, it’s so different. It’s long and it lasts and it’s not a reward for killing someone,” Yelena admitted, and Natasha felt pain stab at her heart at her sister’s struggle.

  “And you don’t have any problem giving it so freely. It’s so different and so nice, and it was embarrassing,” Yelena spoke, and Natasha looked at her strangely, finding herself confused even after this lengthy explanation that Yelena was trying to get through and offer her.

  Yelena sighed deeply, and Natasha heard a light curse roll off of her tongue quietly before she spoke.

  “I enjoyed it too much and I was afraid that if you saw that, you wouldn’t want to,” Yelena let herself trail off, clamming up as she tried desperately to avoid looking at Natasha. The redhead just thought about this statement for a long moment, not sure what to say in response. Conversations with this many feelings involved were always hard for her.

  However, after a long moment, she moved on the couch so that she was facing her sister a bit more and she opened her arms. In response to the movement, Yelena finally brought her gaze back to look at Natasha, and she eyed her as if she had lost her mind.

  “Come here,” Natasha spoke, and Yelena looked between her open arms and her light green eyes staring the blonde down. Yelena furrowed her brow, at a loss as to precisely what the redhead meant.

  “What?”

  “Come here,” Natasha told her, moving one of her hands to wave Yelena in her direction. The blonde finally seemed to realize what she meant, and she slowly scooted forward, crawling nearer to her big sister. Natasha just nodded slightly in encouragement.

  Yelena moved a bit closer so that she was in Natasha’s space a bit more, and Natasha snagged the opportunity, taking the younger woman in her arms. She pulled her close and hugged her to her chest.

  To Natasha’s happiness, Yelena immediately let her weight settle heavily against the older woman and she wrapped her arms around her sister tightly, her cheek squished against Natasha’s shoulder and her legs stretched across the couch on top of Natasha’s. Natasha rubbed her back carefully, and she quickly noticed the happy sigh and groan combo that Yelena released as she just fully relaxed in it and even pushed herself a bit closer to the redhead.

  “I enjoy it, too. Contact is not so new for me, but having it with you is, and it just… I really would just hug you all the time if I could.”

  “Why can’t you?” Yelena questioned, her words muffled and her voice akin to a mumble from its place stuffed against Natasha. Natasha ran her hands up and down the girl’s back comfortingly, a chuckle resounding in her throat a little as she looked down at the blonde.

  “Well… I was afraid that you wouldn’t be comfortable with it.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Yelena immediately responded without any hesitation whatsoever, her voice suddenly quite clear despite her position. Natasha could hear the intense disapproval in the words.

  “Would you be embarrassed?” Natasha asked somewhat worriedly.

  “Would you?” Yelena challenged, her voice now filled with way too much affection and fondness to be too serious. Natasha quickly noted that Yelena had somehow managed to worm her way further up Natasha and was now laying there with her head shoved underneath Natasha’s chin.

  “No… I haven’t really thought about it before,” Natasha admitted, and Yelena huffed a little in response. A tiny smile tugged at Natasha’s lips, the sudden puff of air feeling strange but not unpleasant against her neck.

  “I’d like to try… Y’know… To touch more,” Natasha admitted somewhat awkwardly, and Yelena froze a little, but Natasha could feel the grin breaking out across the blonde’s face as she just snuggled closer to the older woman. Natasha’s smile grew on her face, and she reveled in the contact of the person that she loved the most in the world.

  “We should be careful. We’re starting to sound like those girls on that movie Chilly.”

  “What?” Natasha asked in complete confusion, trying to understand what her sister was trying to communicate. She could tell that Yelena was trying to tease, but she could not exactly get what was so funny because she did not completely understand what Yelena was talking about.

  “You know… Chilly. That movie.”

  “Umm… No, I don’t actually.”

  “Chilly! The animated movie. The one where the sister had powers and was blonde and awesome and shot stuff out of her hands,” Yelena tried to explain, and it suddenly occurred to Natasha precisely what the younger girl was talking about.

  “Frozen?” Natasha questioned, barely holding back laughter.

  “Yes!” Yelena exclaimed, and Natasha chuckled heartily.

  “Hey! Don’t laugh! I was serious!” Yelena whined, and Natasha moved her head over to the side to press a gentle kiss to the Yelena’s forehead. Yelena stilled for a moment but sighed out of her nose in something that sounded like contentment.

  “I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing with you.”

  “I was not laughing,” Yelena told her, completely and deadly serious, and Natasha started to laugh once again, the sound heartier and fuller this time. Yelena actually started chuckling with her at this point.

  “I made you laugh,” Yelena proudly pointed out, her voice relaxed and calm as could be. Once Natasha finally got ahold of her mirth in response to her sister, Natasha smiled wider than she had in weeks as she ran her hand up to touch the back of Yelena’s hair. Yelena sighed happily, a slight shiver running through her as Natasha ran her fingers through the blonde tresses.

  “You make it sound like I never laugh,” Natasha chuckled just a bit, and Yelena shrugged sluggishly.

  “You don’t laugh much.”

  “Maybe I never had a reason to,” Natasha countered, and Yelena huffed.

  “So you’re saying I’m your reason? That’s pretty sappy,” Yelena somewhat sleepily told her, her voice slurring just a bit as she shut her eyes tightly in pure enjoyment of her sister’s attentions.

  “I learned it all from you,” Natasha teased, and Yelena just hummed, unimpressed but too comfortable to grace the statement with an articulated response.

  Yelena was slowly nestling herself even closer to Natasha, her breathing growing deeper and more spaced out as she got comfortable, and Natasha smiled lovingly, a warmth radiating through her.

  “Ya tebya lyublyu,” Natasha muttered under her breath, kissing Yelena’s head as she closed her eyes, enjoying her sister’s proximity. Yelena stirred just a little, barely coherent words on her lips as she replied.

  “Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu…”

[charlies-gillespie]

reminence | charlie gillespie

paring: fem!reader x charlie gillespie

summary: reader stays the night in a hotel but there are no rooms. her ex, Charlie, overheard her talking and offers reader to spend the night in his room

length: mediumish

rating: PG

warnings: none

!! NOT MY GIF !!

MASTERLIST

You get out of the Uber you took to get here from LAX. You thank the driver and get your suitcase out of the trunk of his car. You drag your suitcase and dufflebag into the hotel that you plan in staying at tonight. It’s about five and the lobby is kind of packed. The parking lot was pretty full. You get in line at the desk behind a couple and their child.

The desk receptionist hands the couple a key and they walk off. You approach the desk with a smile and say, “Hi, my name is Y/N L/N and I booked a room here for one night.” The desk receptionist nods and types on the computer.

She makes a face and says, “I’m sorry, Miss L/N but that was our last room available.”

Confused, you say, “I called three days ago and made a reservation for a room.”

“I am all out of rooms tonight, I apologize,” she says. “If you’d like to stay and wait in case someone checks out then you can. I thought we had more than one room available for tonight.”

With a sigh, you open your mouth to say something until you hear someone go “Y/N?” behind you. You turn your head to see Charlie Gillespie standing behind you. You blink at him. You haven’t seen him since he broke up with you almost two years ago after a three year relationship. His hair has gotten longer and he’s gotten ... cuter.

You say, “Charlie, wow. It’s been a long time.”

Charlie approaches you and asks, “Are you staying here tonight?”

“I was going to but they just gave away the last room when I called three days ago reserving a room,” you say. “Why are you staying here?”

He says, “I flew in from Canada yesterday and have been staying here until my friend gets back from Canada so I can stay at his place. Wait, did you say that they don’t have anymore rooms?” You nod. “You can stay with me tonight. I have a second bed in my room that you can use.”

With a smile forming on your lips, you say, “Thank you, Charlie.” The desk receptionist hands you a key to Charlie’s room and the two of you take the elevator up to the fourth floor.

When you’re on the elevator, you take a second to look at the man next to you. His hair was much shorter than it is now. He’s wearing a blue and white button-up shirt that’s a little big on him and the top three or four buttons are undone, revealing his chest. He wears khaki shorts and converse sneakers.

The elevator dings and you get off with Charlie, who leads you down the hallway to his hotel room. He uses his key to let you both in and he lets you walk in first. You look around the room. The bed he probably slept in last night is a mess and isn’t made. There’s a shirt thrown over a chair at the little circular table. A coffee mug sits on the table between the beds.

“It’s a little messy but I wasn’t expecting company,” Charlie says, closing the door behind you. “Sorry.”

You smile and say, “It’s okay. It’s not like you need to impress me or anything.”

Charlie chuckles a bit and says, “I can run and grab us some food while you unpack. I know you probably had a long flight and probably need real food.”

“Yes, please,” you say. “Are there any McDonald’s around here? Or Taco Bell?”

He grabs his wallet and asks, “Your usual from either?” You nod in response. “I’ll be back in about fifteen minutes then.” Charlie leaves the room and you sit on the neatly made bed.

Sometimes you don’t remember why your relationship with Charlie ended. He’s a sweetheart, even after not seeing you for two years.

Your mind wanders while you unpack some of your clothes, putting them in an unused drawer. You check the minifridge to see what Charlie has. He just has a few cans of soda and a few water bottles. You sigh and sit back down on your bed.

Charlie walks in moments later with a Taco Bell bag and two drinks. He sets everything down on the little table and says, “Three soft shell tacos, Nacho Fries, and a Baja Blast. After all this time, I still know your regular at Taco Bell.”

With a laugh, you get up and say, “It’s not that hard to remember three soft shell tacos, Nacho Fries, and a Baja Blast. But thank you, Charlie.”

He smiles as you take your food, your drink, and a few napkins before sitting with your legs cross on your bed.

“What do the channels look like here? Any good ones?” you ask, opening one of your tacos.

Charlie shrugs and says, “There’s HBO we can watch. I know know what movie is on right now. Let’s check though.” He plops down on his bed with his Crunchwrap Supreme and his own Baja Blast. He grabs the remote and scrolls to HBO. He puts the channel on and you recognize the movie as Five Feet Apart. You look at Charlie and he switches to a static filled channel. “Not that one.”

Five Feet Apart was the movie you and Charlie watched the day before your relationship with him ended. You saw it in the movie theater a few weeks after it came out. You haven’t been able to watch it since.

Quickly, Charlie scrolls through the guide and puts on Friends. “This is a good compromise,” you tell him. “We both love Friends.”

“It’s one of the greatest shows ever,” Charlie says enthusiastically.

You laugh and say, “You made me watch this show so many times when we were together. The theme song always got stuck in my head after we watched it.”

Charlie swallows the bite of his Crunchwrap that he took before he asks, “Do you know how much Grey’s Anatomy you made me watch?” You laugh. “We’re even, Y/N.”

After swallowing a bite of your taco, you say, “You made me watch un ungodly amount of Friends, Charlie. It was everyday. I only made you watch Grey’s on Thursdays when it aired.”

He chuckles and says, “Okay, you got me there. You made me watch a lot of TikToks though, Miss L/N. You spent hours showing me videos.”

“You were laughing so I didn’t stop!” you say, jumping to your defense. “Remember that one time we tried making a TikTok by dancing to Obsessed by Mariah Carrey. It took us hours because you couldn’t learn the moves.”

Your ex laughs and says, “I did learn the moves eventually though. I still remember them.”

You finish your taco and says, “I wanna see this. Show me.”

Charlie smiles and gets off the bed. He stands in front of you and starts to do the Obsessed dance from TikTok. You laugh as you watch how badly he does the dance.

“For a musician, you have no rhythm,” you tease.

He sits back down on his bed with a sigh as he says, “For a small person, you eat a lot. I don’t know where it goes.”

With a laugh, you say, “I have no idea where it all goes either.”

It feels nice to laugh and talk with Charlie. Neither of you have spoken to each other since you broke up in late 2019. Just seeing him again has made you really happy. You didn’t think you’d see him again. He’s still his crazy self that he was years ago.

Both of you finish and you sit back against the headboard of your bed with a pillow behind you. You’re watching and laughing with Friends even though you’ve seen this episode a thousand times.

Charlie sudden asks, “Do you remember why we broke up?”

You look over at Charlie, who’s laying in the same position that you are, and say, “We just grew apart after high school. You moved down here part time after you graduated and I still had a few months left.” Charlie graduated early, you still had six months left. You were 17 when you and Charlie started dating at the beginning of your senior year of high school. He had just turned 17 right before the school year started. You were 20 when the relationship ended and Charlie was just about to turn 21. It wasn’t quite three years when you broke up but it was close.

He says, “I tried to make it work with us, Y/N. You know that right? Between living down here and acting, I did try.”

“I know you did,” you tell him, sitting up and looking at him. “It just got tough for both of us. We ended things on good terms.”

Charlie nods and says, “We did.”

You blink and ask, “What have you been doing since we broke up? Focusing on music, I hope.”

With a little laugh, he says, “I was on Netflix.”

Almost surprised, you say, “I didn’t know you were on Netflix, Charlie! That’s incredible. Was it a show or movie?”

“A show,” he says. “It’s called Julie and the Phantoms. We’re still waiting to be picked up for a second season but we trending in the top ten for a little bit on there after the show dropped in September last year.” Charlie tells you all about his time on set. He tells you about the show too, and you’re happy to hear that he was able to do two of the things he loves to do while being on the show.

You smile and ask, “Can I hear a song from the show? I know you have a guitar somewhere in this room. You never go anywhere without one.”

Charlie laughs and says, “You’re right.” He gets up and opens the closet door, pulling out a guitar he has stashed away in there. You laugh and shake your head. You know him too well sometimes.

He sits at the end of your bed and you cross your legs, looking at him. He pulls the guitar out of it’s case and he grabs a pick. He tunes the guitar before he looks at you.

“The song I’m about to play is song I wrote with my co-star, Madi,” he says. “It’s called Perfect Harmony. I may or may not have been kind of thinking of you when coming up with the lyrics.”

You smile and say, “Awe, I didn’t know you were such a romantic, Charlie.”

A laugh leaves Charlie’s lips as he begins to play the chords.

Step into my world Bittersweet love story about a girl Shook me to the core Voice like an angel, I've never heard before

As he plays, you sway to the music. You smile, having always enjoyed hearing his voice and watching him play guitar. He’d spend hours practicing or writing songs and you’d sit outside whatever room he was in or sit beside him while he sang and played.

Charlie looks at you occasionally as he plays, almost like he’s singing to you.

You set me free You and me together is more than chemistry Love me as I am I'll hold your music here inside my hands

You watch him intently, the smile never leaving your face as he plays. Hearing his voice again makes you so happy.

I feel your rhythm in my heart, yeah-yeah You are my brightest, burning star, woah-woah I never knew a love so real (So real) We're heaven on earth, melody and words

As he finishes up the song, you stop swaying and you look at him. Charlie finishes and he looks at you. He laughs a bit and says, “And that’s Perfect Harmony.”

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him. “And I’m not just saying that because you kind of wrote the song while thinking about me. I think it’s really good, Charlie. You’re so talented.”

Charlie’s face gets a little flustered and he says, “I’m just decent at guitar and decent at singing.”

You say, “You wouldn’t have landed a huge Netflix role if you weren’t crazy talented, Charlie. You know that right?”

He packs up his guitar and says, “You don’t have to lie to me like we’re still dating, Y/N.” Charlie gets up and puts his guitar back in the closet he took it about from. You get up and walk over to him.

When he turns around, he jumps a bit, startled that you were right there. You stare up at him and say, “I’m telling you right now that you are insanely talented. I’m face to face with you now so you can’t tell me that I’m lying.”

After a moment of staring up into Charlie’s eyes, he takes a step toward you. Your heart begins to race in your chest and you take a deep breath. You feel his fingers touch your hand and butterflies erupt in your belly. His callused fingers intertwine with yours and you gasp.

“Can I kiss you?” Charlie suddenly asks.

You nod slowly, tilting your head up. It’s been so long since Charlie’s kissed you, and you always loved his kisses. Whenever you were upset, he’d kiss your forehead or your cheek or your neck and you’d feel better almost immediately.

Charlie’s free hand comes up to your face, cupping your cheek. He leans down and ghosts his lips over yours hesitantly. You lean your head up as Charlie becomes more sure and crashes his lips to yours. You gasp softly before kissing him back. The kiss is slow and soft as you both take in the moment.

In the two years apart, you’ve never lost feelings for Charlie. You tried to date but it never worked out because you never were able to get over the only man you ever really loved. Being able to hold his hand and kiss him again feels heavenly.

Both of you stand like this for a few moments before you pull back, looking up at Charlie. He looks down at you and asks, “How long will you be in Los Angeles?”

You say, “I’m moving into my new apartment tomorrow. I just flew in a day early.”

He smiles and asks, “So you’re here permanently?”

“I’m here permanently,” you say, smiling. “So if you’re willing to try the relationship thing again then-”

Charlie cuts you off with another kiss, this one rougher than the last. You laugh as Charlie pulls back, saying, “Are you kidding? I’d love to try the relationship thing again. The only reason I’m staying with my friend is because I’m looking for a new apartment too.”

With a huge smile on both your faces, you wrap your arms around Charlie’s neck. You hug him tight and say, “Looks like we ended up finding our way back to each other.”

“Thank God,” Charlie says against your ear. You laugh.

You spend the night wrapped around Charlie in some way until you begin to fall asleep.

As you doze off to sleep, you hear Charlie begin to sing softly.

The truth is finally breaking through Two worlds collide when I'm with you Our voices rise and soar so high We come to life when we're In perfect harmony

A smile forms on your face as you snuggle against Charlie’s side, falling asleep in his arms.

[harryhandstan]

This is my contribution to @meetmeinfleetwood​‘s “to lovers” fic challenge! I chose the trope roommates to lovers and the prompt “I think I’m in love with you and I don’t know what to do.” This was fun to write thank you for allowing me to participate!

Thank you to my beta readers @tbslenthusiast​, @witch-harry​, and @sunflowers-styles​! Y’all are the best!!

no warnings that I can think of other than alcohol tw // bc of the wine they share!

word count: 2.3k

writing tag | masterlist

It’s 5:45 p.m. when you finally leave work for the day. You should’ve just said to hell with it and went home at 5:30 like you were supposed to, but you were nice enough not to. Too nice you’d been told in the past, but it’s a flaw you’re willing to accept if it gets you a promotion to the position you ultimately dreamed of working when you started there 3 years ago.

After a quick stop to grab a bottle of wine (or two), your car can’t get you home fast enough. It’s Friday and you’re looking forward to spending time doing absolutely nothing for the next two days but curling up in a blanket and watching Christmas movies in the apartment you will essentially be alone in. Your roommate Harry shared the space with you, but kept to himself for the most part. Aside from dinners and movie nights on rare occasions when your schedule lined up, allowing you to spend the evening together.

As if your thoughts summoned him, your phone dinged, indicating a new message. Your eyes dart down to where it sits in the passenger seat, careful to keep your eyes on the car in front of you, waiting patiently for the light to turn red so you can grab your phone to respond.

It’s one simple word, “Home?” so you know he’s either still working or on his own drive home. 

Your reply is just as direct, “Not yet. On my way! Movie night?” 

The light’s green again so you tuck your phone back into your purse, ignoring the next ding until you arrive home. You’re through the door of your apartment and down the hall before you read his message, “Sure. Chinese or pizza?” 

“Chinese! I’ll pick the movie and you pay for dinner?”

“That doesn’t sound fair :(”

“Alright fine, you get home before I’m out of the shower and in my pajamas you can pick the movie..deal?”

“Deal!”

The race is on then, both of you competitive and determined to win. You have a movie in mind that you’ve been dying to watch all day and you don’t want to have to rock-paper-scissors to break the tie like you usually do when the two of you don’t agree on who wins  these little games. 

You’d already shed most of your layers of clothing easily as you moved through the apartment; your boots kicked off by the door, jacket gone and thrown over the back of one of the kitchen chairs, cardigan pulled from your body and tossed on the bed by the time you made it to your bedroom. It doesn’t take long to strip the rest away and to gather a set of pajamas from your well organized drawer before darting across the hall to the shared bathroom.

You know you have at minimum 45 minutes to be done, an hour if he goes to the better Chinese place a little further across town, which he most likely would. You’d been dreaming of ending your week with a bubble bath, but you don’t take the chance now, just hop under the hot spray of the shower, hoping it will have the same relaxing effect. Your eyes are closed as you tilt your head back to wet your hair while one hand fumbles over the bottles to find your shampoo. 

Eyes still closed, you tip the bottle to add a bit to your hand, but you freeze when you open your eyes temporarily to close the bottle and put it back on the shelf. It’s Harry’s shampoo you’ve grabbed instead and for a moment you don’t know what to do. You don’t know how many times you’ve teased him about how expensive his products are. But he would never let you hear the end of it if he came home and you smelled like him. Ultimately you would’ve felt too guilty to waste it, so you work it through and hope he never finds out. Pray that the act washes away just like the suds do when you rinse them from your hair. 

By your hopeful calculations, you still have about 10 minutes left before he arrives by the time you're done in the shower. You decide to give him a fair advantage, venturing into the kitchen to decide which bottle of wine would pair best with dinner. When you make your selection, you pour yourself a glass, settling into a comfy spot on the couch. The black remote taunts you from the small wooden coffee, and you grab it. No harm in getting the movie ready while you wait, right?

You’re 2 glasses deep and 20 minutes into the movie when he arrives, a smirk on his face at the sight of you. Your eyes go wide when you see him. You’re not sure why, there had been many nights he’d found you in the same position, but tonight feels different. You gulp down the sip of wine, too tipsy and unaware that you’re staring. Had his dimples always been that prominent when he smiled? Even without your glasses you could spot that grin that stretched a mile wide across his face.

“Haroldddd..you’re home!”

He hated that nickname, had always despised when other people called him that, but falling from your lips it sounds like a prayer and he would gladly change his name to that if he thought it would make you the least bit happy.

“S’pose I lost, huh? Got the food pretty quickly but stopped to get this,” He holds up a bottle of wine, ironically the very same kind that you’re drinking now, “Shoulda known y’would already have some!”

“Oh good, you got some for yourself..this one’s almost empty..”

“M’not that late, am I?” He chuckles as he makes his way to the counter, looking between you and the bottle.

“Hey..it’s a small bottle! This is only my third glass and I’ve barely even touched it.”

“Rough day?” He’s pulling plates down now and retrieving a glass for himself from the cabinet.

“Rough week. Rough few weeks, really.” You take a few more sips as you watch him prepare a plate of food. You figure he’s just making his own, and you wait patiently for him to finish so you won’t be in the way. But when he makes his way around the counter, he’s holding two plates in his hand and wow you want to jump from your spot and kiss him. You restrain yourself, as hard as it may be, and try to focus on the question he’s asking you.

He holds the plates towards the table and then towards where you sit on the couch, silently wanting to know where you’d prefer to enjoy your meal. You pat the spot next to you, inviting him to move closer, knowing how much effort it would take to lift yourself from your warm, comfy spot to go eat at the table.

“Emily still on vacation?” 

“Yes! And she expects us to do double the work while she’s gone! It’s her 3rd vacation this year. I know she’s the boss but..”

“Doesn’t mean she has to be a bitch to you.” He finishes your sentence for you, brow furrowed, upset at even the idea of someone mistreating you in the slightest. 

“Right! Thank you!” 

You hold your hand out to accept the plate he’s made for you, “Got our usual, hope that’s alright.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I was just joking earlier about you paying for all of it. I’ll pay you back for my half.”

He’s already shaking his head no, stuffing a bite of food in his mouth, “It was my turn anyway, r‘member? You paid for those tacos we had last week.”

“Right, I did. Forgot about that.”

You watch him devour a few more bites, your eyes darting from your plate to his, “Yours looks better.”

“Huh?”

Maybe it’s the wine making you more bold, you’d normally never complain, “Your plate it just..looks better than mine. Switch with me.”

“It’s literally the same thing..and I’ve already eaten half the noodles off mine.” He looks mildly annoyed at even the suggestion.

“Don’t care..it looks better. Switch.” You realized just how bratty you sound, so you add a quick, “Please?”

He huffs dramatically, switching the plates and giving you a sarcastic smile, “Happy?”

You return his smile, blissfully unaware of his annoyance in your tipsy state, “Very, thank you.”

You both turn your attention to the tv you realize now you had forgotten to pause, so the movie had progressed further, about 30 minutes in now.

His irritation has already faded when he asks, “What are y’making me watch?”

You start to explain the plot but stop mid-bite of your food, “Wait..have you never seen this movie?”

He shrugs, “Doesn’t look familiar.”

“Oh we’re definitely starting it over then!” 

“No, ya don’t hafta..”

It’s too late, you’ve already discarded your now mostly empty plate of food, nearly knocking your glass of wine over in your excitement of making him watch one of your favorite movies.

Almost an hour in, you don’t notice that Harry’s eyes have drifted to you. In fact, they’d mostly stayed on you since you’d restarted the movie. Your facial expressions were better to him than any movie; the way your eyes softened at the more heartwarming parts, or when your mouth formed a soft ‘o’ and gasped at parts he was certain you had probably seen at least a dozen times before.

You clasp your hand over your heart dramatically and he doesn’t even flinch, just listens intently when you say, “I love this part..this is the moment.”

His eyes temporarily flash back to the tv then, “The moment?”

“Yeah, you know, the moment. Where the guy looks at the girl and realizes he’s in love.” You sigh deeply, “I always wanted someone to look at me like that.”

Oh, you mean like what’s happening now between us? God he hopes for just a glance from you, a chance to show you that you’re living your own moment now if you’d just look at him. 

It’s tumbling out of his mouth quicker than he can stop it, his mouth working faster than his brain, but it’s a low enough whisper he thinks maybe you won’t hear.

“I think I’m in love with you and I don’t know what to do.”

You do hear him, though you don’t believe it at first. Your hand is still resting over your heart, searching his face for any sign of teasing or dishonesty.

“H..did you just..?”

He’s looking down at his hands, fingers fiddling with one of the rings adorning his fingers, nodding before replying, “I did.” 

“How long?”

“Um..since the first week we’ve lived together? That first night we made dinner together and it was a disaster. Thought you were gonna catch the place on fire.” A giggle escapes him at the memory of you, rushing around the kitchen that night, face flushed red and hair a mess.

“That’s my moment? Almost burning our apartment down?”

“That and now, yeah. Just been strugglin’ with the best way to tell you. S’pose the wine’s making me a lil’ more fearless,'' He takes a deep breath, still not able to look at you in case he finds even a hint of rejection on your face, “But I understand if you don’t feel the same..”

“I do.”

His head snaps to look at you then, eyes widening for a second before he composes himself, “Really?”

You can’t stop the smile that blooms across your face at the sight of the thrill in his eyes. There’s a new buzz of elation in the air, but neither of you make a move at first. A pleasant tension fills the space between the two of you.

You break the silence, “So..what do we do now?”

“S’all up to you how fast and how far we take this. M’all in though, ready when you are, love. A cuddle might be nice while we finish the movie, if you’re up f’that.”

“I think I could handle that. I want something else first though.”

He’s trying to read your mind, thinks he knows exactly what it is, but he wants to hear you say it. Wants to hear the words he’s been waiting to hear for what feels like a lifetime now.

“Kiss me, Harry.”

You’ve already turned your body towards him; the movie, the food and the wine all long forgotten. He clears the space between the two of you easily, a hand on the side of your neck to add just enough pressure to pull you towards him.

Your lips crash against his, noses bumping at first but it doesn’t stop you, it only makes you crave him deeper and closer. You press your knees into his thighs, pushing yourself up so that you hover over him, your hair falling around his face. It’s still slightly damp from the shower, and his hand comes to rest on the back of your head now. 

There’s a smug look on his face when he pulls away, a hand still placed on your hip to hold you steady. He’s still breathless when he asks, “Did you use my shampoo?”

When you wake up in his bed the next morning, you question if last night was a mistake. You don’t regret it, not for a second, just wonder if maybe things will be different in the morning light. 

So when you barely touch the plate of eggs and toast he’s made for you for breakfast, he worries you’re having second thoughts about him, that he’s ruined any friendship you’ve already built by rushing into a relationship. 

So when you say, “Did you really mean what you said last night..about loving me?” He visibly relaxes, dropping his shoulders and beaming at you from across his own breakfast plate.

“Oh, darlin’,” He plucks a piece of uneaten toast from your plate, winking at you as he does, “You don’t know the half of it.” 

[aitarose]

SUNSHINE | MAKO

PAIRING: Mako x Kya’s Daughter!Reader [fem]

PLOT: Mako’s always had a little crush on Y/N. After all, who wouldn’t? But admitting it to himself? Yeah, no. Just the thought of admitting it to her? Even bigger no. He’d never consider confessing..right? based on these requests by anons

WARNINGS: fluff, mutual pining, friends to lovers

WORD COUNT: 2.3k

A/N: i love mako sm like you guys don’t even know. this man OWNS me fdjafdlsjk. also i got a little carried away with these requests and i took them to the next level so please enjoy :)

MY MASTERLIST

Mako was living his absolute worst nightmare. 

Stuck aboard an airship with his two exes, his brother, his boss, and his boss’ ex with no opening window to jump out of?

The day was definitely not in his favor.

Every hour seemed to be the same.

Radio a call..hear about a new airbender..find the map..use the map..go to the town..get kicked out of the town..return to the beginning.

While Mako did love having a routine—he was bored of this one.

The only thing that made his day even slightly interesting was Y/N.

It wasn’t long ago when he had met the water tribe girl. They’d first spoken during the Glacier Spirits Festival in the Southern Water Tribe.

He had been introduced to her mother, Kya, through Bolin. His younger brother was so starstruck by Avatar Aang’s only daughter, that he couldn’t help but drag along her own daughter with him for the entirety of the festival.

Bolin spent the rest of the night proudly walking alongside the teenage girl, who had to have been at least two to three years older than him.

He went around and showed her off to all of their friends from Republic City, even if they already knew her.

“Don’t make a show of it, but I know the Avatar’s granddaughter. You don’t need to be wowed or anything, it’s no big deal.”

“Bolin, I’m literally her uncle.”

Mako was one of the very last people to meet the infamous Y/N.

It was right after his argument with Korra about the situation between her father and Unalaq. His emotions were all over the place, confusion and annoyance dominated his mood.

But all of his anger dissolved with one look at her smile.

It was at that moment when Mako decided that Y/N had a gift.

She could lift someone’s spirit with a single glance. Her eyes always glowed with positivity and her soul was the purest one he had ever come across.

Y/N could be compared to the rising sun. Just by existing, she radiated more light and goodness than the greatest man on Earth could ever achieve.

It had been a very brief introduction. 

“Mako, my man!” Bolin slapped his palm over the firebender’s shoulder, a cheesy side smile pointed at the teenage girl standing next to him. 

“This is my good friend, Y/N. Y/N meet my big bro!”

Y/N beamed, her teeth sparkling under the moonlight. She held out her hand in a friendly manner and looked straight into Mako’s eyes, unafraid of making eye contact. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mako.” She spoke whilst shaking his hand. “I’ve only known Bolin for an hour and I feel like I already know everything about you.”

Mako groaned in embarrassment. He was always flattered by how much Bolin looked up to him, but sometimes his little brother went a little too far.

“You had an hour? Let me guess..” Mako pointedly looked at Bolin, shaking his head in amusement. “He must’ve told you our entire life story by now.”

When she laughed at his blunt attempt at a joke, Mako’s heart soared right then and there. 

It was like the fire inside of him had been ignited with gasoline. but instead of her water smothering his flames..they made the grow. Made them stronger.

Though Mako hadn’t realized these lurching feelings at the time. He did have a girlfriend after all, and he liked to think he would never intentionally cheat on her.

That didn’t stop him from admiring her from afar.

Platonically of course.

There weren’t many moments after the festival where Mako found himself alone with Y/N. 

He had chosen to follow Korra to open the spirit portals and Y/N went off to tour the air temples with her extended family—and if he was being honest, he hadn’t had much time to think about her between fighting off evil spirits and breaking up with his girlfriend.

It wasn’t until after Team Avatar defeated Unalaq and Vaatu, that Mako’s mind returned to his unresolved and unrealized feelings.

With the spirit portals open, the world was new again.

Thousands of people were traveling, discovering places they never knew existed, and migrating to different nations.

Luckily for Mako, Y/N had been one of those people.

It had taken her about a week to move into her apartment in Republic City.

Her flat was quaint but cosy. It had views overlooking the busy downtown and bustling people, and she had easy access to stores and shops in the neighborhood.

There was nothing wrong with her new home, but it wasn’t like the South. In fact, it was nothing like the South.

Y/N missed her friends and colleagues. She missed the chilly wind that would slice through the air and freeze her cheekbones. She missed the animals and the overall energy that the South had.

But she was open to new beginnings and new friends—and her open mindset was exactly what led her to join her family and Team Avatar on the search for new airbenders.

Which is right where Mako had left off. 

The airship was dreadful, dreary, and just plain boring. 

His main source of entertainment was watching a cloud disappear from his view, and then preceding to find another one for his eyes to chase.

Luckily for him, Y/N was also bored out of her mind. She had no one to talk to on the ship.

Korra? Tempting, but intimidating.

Asami? Sure if Y/N was less hippy and more business mogul.

Bolin? Yeah, she didn’t want to go down that path again. 

Lin? No way.

Her actual family members? Good option—but Tenzin was boring and all Jinora did was read old scrolls.

Y/N was at a loss, and the only person that seemed remotely interesting was the brooding firebender staring out of the window.

When she approached him, Mako was at a loss for words.

He had been thinking about this moment for awhile now, and had a pun filled pick-up line ready to go, but when it came down to crunch time, he stalled. 

“Hey,” Y/N smiled, gesturing to the seat next to Mako on the iron bench. “Mind if I sit?”

Mako’s mouth opened to respond, but no words came out of his mouth. He sat there like a fish out of water, nodding his head silently.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders and happily sat next to the nineteen year old. 

With her being so close in proximity, Mako’s brain flashed exe.error messages through his thoughts.

They sat in a comfortable, yet also awkward silence for a long time. 

Every time Mako tried to get a word out, he stumbled. His nerves overcame his speech, preventing him from sounding the least bit cool.

Scratch that. They prevented him from sounding like an actual person and not a toddler that just learned how to speak.

After what felt like generations, Mako was saved by none other than his ex-girlfriends.

“We just landed,” Korra said, waving to the former probender and his companion. A confused look flashed across her face at the sight of them so close yet so uncomfortable.

Asami then poked her head around the corner, coming into view. “Are you guys going to come out or what?”

Y/N was the first to jump up, nodding her head enthusiastically.

She nearly sprinted to the exit—not because she wanted to get away from her encounter with Mako, she was just really excited to meet new people.

Mako heaved a deep sigh when she was completely out the door and out of earshot. It felt like he could finally breathe again without the stress of being in her presence.

“You like her?” Korra crossed her arms over one another, leaning against the wall as Asami stood by her side.

“What?” Mako stuttered, his face flooding with hues of red and pink.

“Why would you say that?”

“No Way!”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about!”

Korra and Asami loudly laughed at Mako’s rambling, while they had both been hurt by his actions in the past, they had come to forgive him—and they wanted nothing more than for him to find his special someone.

“Okay, then.” Korra shrugged, pulling Asami out of the room with her, “Whatever you say, Mako.”

Mako dropped his face into his hands, pulling at his hair as he mentally beat himself up.

“But if it matters,” he looked up to see Korra still standing at the door. A genuine smile shown on her face. 

“I think you two would be perfect together.”

As Korra finally left him to himself, Mako couldn’t help but think about how lucky he was to have a friend like her. 

She was everything he didn’t need in a relationship, but everything he could’ve ever wanted in a friendship. 

Eventually, Mako did manage to force himself off of the airship. He helped with the little show the airbenders put on to influence others to join the nomads and even fought a few bad guys while he was at it. 

He was finally having a good day, until the little punk tried to steal his wallet.

“Wait,” he ordered, pulling Kai back by the neck of his shirt. Mako held out his hand expectantly and gave the younger boy a hard look. 

“I think you might have something of mine.”

Kai smiled sheepishly before pulling out the firebender’s stolen goods. 

“It must’ve fallen into my pocket, my bad.”

Mako glared at the new airbender. The stare he was giving Kai was so cold, it could intimidate a pack of polar bear dogs.

“Now listen here,” he bent down to Kai’s level. His tangerine eyes meeting Kai’s green ones. “I know your game. I used to be the master at it, actually—and let me tell you that it gets you absolutely nowhere.”

Mako sighed, he already saw so much of himself in the kid that he didn’t want him to go down the same hard path that he did.

“All I want is the best for you, kid.” He patted Kai on the shoulder before sending him off to join Jinora on the ship. “Don’t mess up this opportunity.”

There were times where Mako enjoyed being the big bad cop or the authoritarian figure, but this was not one of those times. 

He just wanted Kai to have the best life he possibly could.

The life he had always wanted for himself.

Unbeknownst to Mako, his secret crush had witnessed the whole ordeal.

His pure-hearted intentions touched Y/N. Acts of kindness and wellbeing always found their way into her heart, and his act of good caught her attention in a very positive way. 

It caught her attention enough, that she found herself standing right behind him.

“That was really sweet what you said back there.” She told Mako, who jumped in surprise at her soft voice.

“Yeah, I tried. I’ve been where he is before. I know how it ends.”

Mako felt much more comfortable now that Y/N had started the conversation. He wasn’t afraid to give his thoughts knowing that she was the one who wanted to talk to him.

Y/N let out a low breath. Her hair willowed in the breeze, her eyes shining under the sunlight. She looked like a lost spirit.

A beautiful lost spirit, Mako thought. 

“I try, too.” She whispered to him. Mako could barely hear her voice, it was so faint.

“Sometimes being there for everyone else has its downfall.” Y/N’s sparkling eyes turned dim, sadness drowned her usually uplifting features.

“I spend all my energy making sure that everyone I love is happy, but then there’s never anyone looking out for me, you know?”

Mako did know.

He knew exactly how she was feeling. He’d raised Bolin since they were children. 

If anyone knew the pressures of holding onto another person’s burdens, it was Mako.

“I’ve noticed that,” Mako said, stepping closer to the girl. He could see that her eyes were welling with tears, all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around her and make all the negative energy go away. 

So that’s exactly what he did.

Y/N melted into Mako’s embrace. She felt his body radiate heat, he warmed not only her body, but her heart in an instant.

“I see you, with Tenzin’s kids.” Mako ran his hand down her back, comforting Y/N as best he could. “They look up to you more than they do anyone else. You’re really amazing, Y/N. I’m surprised you don’t hear it more often.”

Right then and there, Y/N realized exactly what she needed in her life—and it was Mako.

If she was being honest with herself, he hadn’t exactly caught her eye before.

She thought he was somewhat bland at the Glacier Spirits Festival and the whole double girlfriend situation definitely didn’t spark her interest in the firebender, but now here she was..

Crying in his arms, confessing her insecurities, and feeling heard.

She had never felt heard before.

“I think you’re really amazing.” Mako blurted out. 

He cringed at his confession, hoping that she didn’t take it the wrong way. If there even was a wrong way to take it.

Mako felt Y/N grow still in his arms. His heart pounded in anticipation for what her next words would be.

To his surprise she pulled away..

Before pressing a deep kiss to his lips.

Mako immediately responded. His mouth moved languidly with hers, connecting in the most perfect way, as if they were meant to be.

His entire body nearly combusted. Her bright spirit combining with his fiery one.

Mako felt like sunshine was running through his veins.

She pulled away, giving him one last chaste kiss.

“I think you’re amazing, too.” 

i love feedback pls give me some

[mrsgiovanna]

A lesson in Recollection (Don Giorno x Wife! Reader)

An awesome request from a nonnie mouse, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks so much for requesting my sweet 💕💜😘💭🐞

TW: brief descriptions of injuries, anxiety and hospitals

Word count: 1.7k

The beeps and hisses of the medical equipment were the only sounds that could be heard in your hospital room. Next to your bed sat your husband, jaw squared off, mouth clenched shut trying to contain his rage. His usually immaculate appearance was disheveled as he clutched your delicate hand against his lips.

He blamed himself for the position you were in by default, a husband was supposed to love and protect, the convention is built into the vows themselves. In reality though, the attack had happened so fast and so suddenly that nobody would have been able to preempt it. None of that mattered now… even though the offenders were severely dealt with, your condition was still the same. It had been a week, and you were still asleep. Your superficial injuries were taken care of by Giorno, but still you wouldn’t wake up. Numerous scans and brain activity tests revealed some swelling in your brain which was slowly subsiding, he simply had to be patient and wait for you to open your eyes again… and fortunately for him, it happened… unfortunately, you stared at him blankly, unable to put a name to his handsome, crestfallen face.

“Tesoro, it’s me… Giorno… your husband,”

“Tesoro? What’s that? I’m… married? I… I don’t feel so good,” you whispered, unable to find your voice after being unconscious for so long.

“Okay, okay amore, I’m getting your doctor, please hang on for me,”

You looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings, at the towering blond man scrambling around with all the white coats, you tried to push yourself up to join the conversation happening just above your head, but your physical strength was virtually nonexistent.

You were given a few days to physically recuperate, being subjected to test upon test to make sure that there was no other underlying cause for your loss of memory. The man who called himself your husband came to see you every day, bringing your favorite flowers, drinks, foods and scents with him in an attempt to help your memory recover. Even though you couldn’t remember him, you felt a sense of peace when you were around him, as if his soul was trying to connect on a subconscious level with your own. He was the only one who was able to talk you down from your bouts of anxiety, or the nightmares that sometimes plagued you. You figured he must have loved you immensely with all the effort he put into trying to get you to remember him.

“Your wife has retrograde amnesia, Mr. Giovanna. Fortunately, the swelling has subsided and her intracranial pressure has managed to consistently remain within normal levels, which is why I’m clearing her to go home. If there is any change in her condition or level of consciousness though, bring her back immediately. The road is a long one, Mr. Giovanna, there are no guarantees that her memories will return, but I have confidence that with the right care, she will be able to recover steadily.” Your doctor spoke honestly, not wanting to create unrealistic expectations, what he didn’t know was that Giorno was the type of person who always achieved whatever he had put his mind to- and right now, he was only concerned with making sure you would come out of this as unscathed as possible. Knowing that you would need all of his attention in the near future, he enlisted the help of his underboss and consigliere to help him run the organization remotely without having anyone privy to what he was actually doing. Both Mista and Fugo willingly obliged, wanting nothing than for you to make a full recovery.

“Thank you doctor, I’ll keep a close eye on her,” Giorno was relieved you were well enough to return home, the villa was painfully quiet and empty without you and he was certain that being in your sanctuary would help you remember your life with him. Looking at you sitting with your legs swinging off the side of your hospital bed and a faraway look in your eyes, you appeared so fragile and innocent.

“Good morning beautiful, how are you feeling today?” you turned to face him with a soft smile.

“Good morning Giorno, I’m okay thanks, and you?” the tender way in which you addressed him, being concerned for his well-being warmed his heart, whether you remembered him or not, you were still you… he was still yours as much as you were his.

“I’m much better now that I’m taking you home, shall we leave my love?”

“I’m ready, let’s go,”

Your doting husband helped you off the bed and took your things, you didn’t want to be wheeled out on the wheelchair, so you both walked out to the luxury car waiting for you. You didn’t expect there to be a driver, or a guard escorting you both… what does he do as job to be able to afford all this you mused. Come to think of it, you didn’t really know what your job was either… you decided to leave those questions for later. The entire drive home, you looked out of the window, the route home was unfamiliar, the imposing villa you were driven up to didn’t even feel real.

“Welcome home my love. Come, let’s get you settled in,”

“We live here? What exactly do we do?” your voice was imbued with curiosity.

“Well, I run a large, multidivisional organization, you are in charge of handing our philanthropic ventures, I’ll explain more later on… are you okay to walk up the stairs? In fact, never mind,” he said as he lifted you off the ground and carried you up the stairs despite your reassurances that you were fine. You looked at the beautifully decorated home, pictures of you both tastefully dotted throughout the hall way. Looking at his gorgeous angled face, you wondered how you both met and fell in love.

“This is our room bella, would you like to take a nap?”

“Gio, I’m fine… sorry, it just slipped out, do you mind if I call you Gio? It just sounds… right,”

“Of course bella, I’d prefer that. Ah! You must be hungry, all those days just eating hospital food… what would you like eat? Our chef will make anything you want, everyone has missed you here, so they’re all pretty excited you’re back home,”

“Really? I’d like to meet everyone later… if they’re not busy,”

“Okay my love,” said Giorno as he went into his closet to fetch something more casual to wear, choosing a simple V-neck t-shirt and jeans, shaking out his hair from its usual style, and leaving it unbound about his shoulders. He walked out to find you sitting at your vanity, looking at the products and the baubles, lifting up your favorite hairbrush and examining its engravings. He walked towards you, and took his place behind you, lifting your hair off your shoulders and bringing it to the back, he took the ornate brush from your grasp and began to gently brush your hair. Your injuries were well healed by now, but Giorno was still extremely careful.

“How does this feel? I’m not hurting you am I?

“No, it feels really nice actually… Gio… would you tell me how we met? Like, what’s our story? I see all the pictures around and we look so happy,”

“We were happy, bella, we still are, we’ll get back what was lost and create even better memories on the way… we met 10 years ago, we were just stupid ambitious kids back then, both 15 years old with heads full of dreams. I won’t go into detail, but we had very… unique occupations and abilities. We’ve been through a lot together, and rebuilt this organization from the ground up. We’ve been together as a couple for seven years and married for the past two,”

“Sounds like quite a journey for a pair as young as us… and now there’s this… I’m sorry, I’m sure you didn’t imagine something like this would happen,” the apologetic quality of your voice saddened Giorno, the last thing he wanted was for you to feel like this was your fault.

“We have fought against worse my love, and just like that we’ll handle this together… come, no sad faces now,” said Giorno as he braided some flowers into your hair.

“Wow, you’re good at this… where did you get the flowers from, you didn’t move an inch?” you asked, admiring his handiwork.

With a smile he replied that he’ll show you a bit later on, which you accepted. The rest of day was spent by talking about some of the interesting things that had happened to you both in the past. Being wary of overwhelming you, Giorno didn’t go into great detail about the more tragic experiences. When it came time for you to sleep, he suggested he sleep in one of the guest rooms if you felt uncomfortable, but you asked him to stay with you, feeling guilty that you were the reason he felt like he had to behave like a guest in his own home.

As you got more comfortable, and built up your strength with your recovery, Giorno slowly started reintegrating you back into your old routine, as difficult as it was, you had made great strides in re-learning key bits of information. Your mental fortitude had constantly reminded your husband exactly why he had fallen in love with you, the least he could do with your trying so hard, was to match your effort, working tirelessly with you on the exercises that your therapist suggested, recreating pivotal events so you could experience some semblance of what you would have when it initially occurred, and most importantly, being the support you needed when things became overwhelming.

Slowly you were reintroduced to Mista, Fugo and Trish, reestablishing the friendships almost immediately. You were grateful for the wonderful people who surrounded you, from the staff at the villa to Giorno’s closest associates who constantly sought to aid in your recovery. Most of all though, you were grateful for Giorno, you were aware of how much he had done and continues to do to aid you. While you were cognizant of everything you had been through together, having regained most of your memory through your combined efforts, what had remained altered though, was how you felt about Giorno, this whole experience solidifying your bond even more than you thought possible, it had just reaffirmed that you both would be able to overcome even the most dire of situations if you handled it together.

[blackberry-bloody]

so I haven't done much original whump in quite a while, but I really felt the need to fill my own prompt (even though technically this turned into waaaaaaay more than I intended, and the tail whump is kind of an after though in this it seems.), and I really wanted to introduce my boi Dayzel officially. So Here's two birds with one stone.

@darkwarfy, @icyheart-and-friends, @seagullsausage

Contains: creepy whumper, retrained whumpee, non human/demon whumpee, angel/non-human whumper, implied prior whump, torture, choking, broken bones, loss of limbs (not graphic/ not described), humiliation (if you squint, so just in case), stress position, snarky whumpee that doesn't know how to shut up, whumpee reaching their breaking point

Dayzel's breathing came wheezy and strained from where he was unhappily seated. The ropes pinning his wrists to each if the chair's arms were starting to cut bloody red lines from his tugging, and his vision was just a little hazy from the repeated blunt force injuries to his head. Still… He looked up at the man glowering over him, a smug grin plastered quite firmly from ear to ear. He was Dayzel Infernos, and he was not about to be bested by some punk angel trying to get all high and mighty on his ass. "Look, chicken wing-" a resounding slap echoed in the room as his head snapped to the side. He clenched his jaw and slowly turned his head back to glare at the very narrowed purple eyes that had gotten much closer. "Oh wow, don't like nicknames huh? I'll keep it noted." His voice was practically dripping with a toxic mixture of venom and sarcasm as he chuckled in the man's face and spit a globule of blood at him.

The look of disgust on his face made his smirk that much more smug as he leaned forward as much as he could with his wings tied to the back of the chair. Just needing enough to close the gap. He was not impressed. "Hey bird brain, I don't know what you, or your buddies that dragged me here are thinking you're doing, but whatever it is… It's pretty fucking pathetic." His tail twitched from it's position around his leg, swaying from side to side like a snake judging the creature before it. "You're not the first person to try and "teach the evil demon a lesson", hell you're not even the first angel. I've had humans do worse than you. All you've done is smack me around a bit and glare at me." A slightly manic giggle escaped, but soon turned into a coughing fit as he had to pull back to catch his breath and relieve tension on his wings. Once he opened his eyes again, he noticed the angel's expression had changed from one of anger and disgust, to something more unreadable…

Dayzel paid the change no mind however, and continued with his taunting."I've been here many times before and not a single person… Human, angel, or otherwise has yet to make me break. None of you have any creativity. You're all so dull."

"Is that so?" The man before him finally spoke. His voice was deep and commanding, but also incredibly soft. But in the otherwise quiet room… It was practically booming.

Dayzel's eyes snapped up once more and processed the moment, his grin faltering for only a split second, and only due to the surprise. "Ah, so he can speak. Wonderful. I was starting to get tired of my own voice. Oh wait, no, that's impossible." He laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls and making them echo. However, he was abruptly cut off as a hand shot out and grabbed one of his horns. It didn't hurt, but it was just jarring enough to make him wince. He let out a low growl and tried to tug it out of the angel's grip. Only for the man to laugh in return, and guide Dayzel's head into an uncomfortable position looking straight up at the ceiling. "For the record. Yes. It is so. And of all the times I've been caught, this doesn't even make the top ten." He bit out. He tried to jerk his head again to make eye contact… But his head was held firmly in place.

"I see. Then perhaps it's time I showed you some of my… Creativity… Hm?" Delicate and utterly cold fingers found their way to Dayzel's fully exposed neck, and ever so gently wrapped around the skin… Before the grip became crushing hard, cutting off his airflow entirely.

Dayzel gasped and, although he tried his best to hide it… He did start to panic… As he tugged on the ropes trying to reach up and claw his hands off him. Or even shift his head so he could bite him. But neither were really options, so he was just left to slowly choke on nothingness until his vision went black.

~~~ Eventually, and ever so slowly, Dayzel could feel himself being pulled from the black void of unconsciousness. The first thing he noticed was that he was no longer seated in an uncomfortable chair, but instead was laying face down on an uncomfortable floor. The second thing he discovered was that he was indeed still restrained, despite the new position… His arms twitched behind him to try and push himself up, but was only met with stiff and sticky resistance of boring duct tape around his wrists. He had yet to open his eyes, but he still rolled them behind his eyelids. “I thought you were going to show me creative, not cliche, pigeon,” he growled out, despite the somewhat still smug tone in his voice. “Oh, don’t worry your fake red haired head, I’m getting to it. Try not to pass out before I can, ok?” The same voice as before spoke somewhere directly above him. Monotone, flat, and utterly condescending.

Dayzel’s eyes finally snapped open and he tilted his head to try and see where the angel was, “What the fuck is that-?!” He was abruptly cut off as a boot was placed securely at the base of where his wings met and weight was steadily applied. “Oh” was the only thing he could wheeze out as he struggled to take in air with his rib cage being crushed. He attempted to seem nonchalant as he felt the angel shift his weight behind him… But that was quickly thrown out the wind as he felt soft hands carefully take hold of his tail, lifting it up to get a better look. Immediately Dayzel started thrashing under him, letting out curses and threats that could put a trucker to shame.

"Oh hush, no need to get so worked up yet." Was the only reply given. Well, the only verbal reply… The twist and added pressure on the tender muscle between his wings were his other reply all it's own. The motion itself was enough to stun Dayzel beneath him, reeling from the pain. The angel, of course, took advantage of this moment and swiftly tied a cord around the man's tail before releasing him. "See? Now, up you come."

Delicate hands corded through Dayzel's blood matted hair and yanked, startling Dayzel from his daze, guiding him to be standing upright.

Dayzel gasped and heaved for breath as he stood up, wobbling ever so slightly as he did so. Although, he'd deny it with the same vigor and venom as he would anything else that might bruise his ego. His eyes were ablaze with fury. "What the actual fuck is wrong with you?! As soon as I can, I promise I'm going to pluck you like a chicken!"

The angel's expression remained neutral as his hand made its way up to wipe the spit off his face. "Yes… I'm quite certain you'd like to. But do please remember you brought this upon yourself sweetheart." There was no warmth, nor malice for that matter as he reached up and patted Dayzel's cheek. "Don't worry, though, I'm almost ready to leave you alone."

"Don't you dare touch me like that!" Was all he could manage to growl as he snapped his face to the side and bit down hard on the man's hand. However, instead of pulling away, or even acknowledging the red lifeblood dripping down his hand… The angel simply tsked and gave Dayzel a look of… What he could only describe as disappointment… Which was enough to startle Dayzel enough to let go.

The angel's uninjured hand shot out so fast he actually flinched as his horn was once again grabbed and his head tilted back. The angel carefully and slowly maneuvered behind him once again, and as he was still held in place, Dayzel had no idea what he was doing. "Such a shame. Your wings are actually quite beautiful you know? I was hoping to merely pin them for this… But seeing as how you want to resort to such. Brutality. I shall return the favor in kind. They should make a nice mantle piece."

Dayzel felt his stomach drop. All tough guy act and threats thrown away as fear took over his face. Actual, genuine, raw fear… "Wait, please don't-!" But he didn't even get the finish as the angel gripped tightly at the base of his wing and twisted and wrenched until the limb fell to the floor. And before he could so much as gather his thoughts… He immediately started on Dayzel's other wing, doing the exact same. That too fell with a soft thud to the floor. Dayzel never cried… And that much held up… No, through his screams, instead he was sobbing. And once his horn was released from it's crushing grip, he too fell to the floor in a heap of himself.

"See? Now we're getting somewhere. Lesson one. Fighting only ends in pain." The shifting of the voice told Dayzel that the man was once again in front of him. He didn't respond. "If you don't acknowledge me, I'll cut off your horns next."

"Fuck you." Dayzel lifted his head ever so slightly to get a look at him… Splattered with his blood across his white uniform…

The man crouched down to be closer in view. "Ah, out of threats I see. That's good. That's progress. There may be hope for you yet." He reached down and delicately pet the tufts of Dayzel's hair and the fuzz of the back of his neck. And Dayzel hated himself for being grateful for the gentle touch as opposed to pain. He merely clenched his jaw. "Unfortunately for you, lesson number two is that hope is meaningless." His hand withdraws and he stands back up to his full height, before fishing around in his pocket for something. Once found, he pulls out a tiny two button remote, one up arrow and one down arrow. He presses the up arrow.

Confused, Dayzel looked up as he heard some sort of mechanical noise, like a motor. And that's when he noticed the cord going up, that was attached to his tail… Which was seemingly being lifted by said motor.

Again, panic rushed through him as he scrambled to stand up and tried to reach the cord just below the tip of his tail… But he was still far too dazed and in pain to grab hold and undo the knot, let alone with his hands tied. He watched as the angel started walking towards the door out of the room, meanwhile his feet finally couldn't touch the ground and he lurched forward with a hiss of pain. The motor stopped, leaving the wingless demon dangling from the cord and the tip of his tail. When he looked back… The angel was gone, leaving him to his own misery. "FUCK YOU!!!" He screamed again, this time raw and full of hate, so loud that it left him once again panting for air.

~~~

It started as a sharp pain, every muscle and joint screaming at him to get down. To ease the pressure. To stop what was happening. And it lasted like that for the first little while as he struggled against the tape and spun in the air. He even tried being upside down and climbing backwards up his own tail to reach the cord. It didn't work of course, but he was desperate enough to try.

Eventually, he figured he'd try staying as still as possible to reduce the sudden jerks on his tail. But then he got lightheaded, or his legs fell asleep and he inevitably had to shift again, sparking the pain once more…

However, after a while… The pain became duller, and more muted. Still very much there and ever persistent. But his tail was slowly losing its ability to hold him up.

Finally he lost the ability to move his tail at all. It had gone a tingling sort of numb and lifeless…

He slumped, folded in half, and without the strength to hold himself facing parallel to the ground. He didn't know how long it had been, nor did he know how much longer it would be… But for the first time, he felt completely helpless.

[quinntamsin]

*Twists in the air as she uses her scope and lets loose a mini-missle from her gauntlet, her hoverpack stablizing the shot.*

SPOILERS INCOMING!

Episode Six, “From The Desert Comes A Stranger” - Opens with our friendly spice synidcate, the Pykes, trying to do a deal of spice out in the Mos Pelgo territory. Cobb our local marshall pops up and we get a good old fashioned blaster fight. Nice solid open. 

Above a hilly jungle planet Din and his N-1 zip out and we get a R2 cameo. YES! Not a bad cute start to see ultimate cuteness, Grogu, and it’s nice to see R2 out of animated cameos. He’s oppped up quite a bit. A cavalcade of six legged constructor droids making a dry stone temple or house of sorts meets Din. The droids are what appear to be particle and CGI to an extent, which is a an interesting mix.

Upset and annoyed Din is always fucking great, especially since he sounds nothing like a certain Red Viper. A quiet scene of meditate between Luke and Grogu is just more massive fan service.Plus, Grogu using his force powers to try to eat a frog is...just great. The CGI on Luke looks better than the last episode of Mando, so good that they seemingly cleaned up the way to do it.

Happy Grogu with his little ears are...the fucking best things outside of my own niece. Oh gods, he’s force hopping in a walk with Luke (who does the hopping) so fucking adorabs!

We get images suddenly of the Jedi Purge, of Grogu hiding as the Jedi knights try to guard him. Watching them fall as the Clone Troopers come in, it’s horribly traumatic. The b=poor baby lived through so much pain and you can see the fear in his eyes as he remembers. Te animation and emotion of Grogu is evident in how much work they put into him.

Seeing Ahsoka as well makes me smile so much. She’s my favorite Star Wars character and I ship her hard with Barris Offee. Again, we see the more disconnective part of Jedi training. I usually found these decisions to be useful in some ways, but in a lot of ways its what led to the Late Republic Jedi’s downfall. Perhaps, this is one reason Luke lost so much later on. He did seem to really cut himself off from his family even during training.I’ll probably piss off some other diehards, but yeah, no the whol cut off family to me only works for some Jedi.

Seeing the Luke actor zipping around with Grogu was a great bit of RotJ nostalgia. Suddenly, we find ourselves in a training montage. With...a training remote as part of it. Wow, they are putting so much work into that little physical muppet. 

We return to Mos Espa and get a quick overview of the invading Pyke positions. Krrsantant is as intimidating as ever (he looks like a big upset murder puppy dog) and Mando heads out to get some soldiers. Ah, a good old saloon bar convincing.I wonder if this is when Cad Bane will pop up.

YUP that Duros motherfucker came striding out of the flats, and likely he’s the death of good old Vanth if people don’t do something. He shoots Cobb, and Bane mercilessly guns him down and Sanctuary is bombed. The violence is ratcheting up as the Pykes begin to eliminate any and all help Boba can draw on.

And Grogu is given the chance to either walka away from the Mandalorian or return to him.

Hottakes:

Damn Luke, why you have to disrespect Beskar like that!

Mando referring to Grogu as a Mandlorian Foundling makes me happy to see the Mando’ade still practice cultural adoption.

Seems some of our favorite Twi’lek are dead now.

Is Cobb dead, I mean Bane doesn’t really miss so I’m a little worried.

Damn, the Pykes are setting the stage for a serioiusly epic standoff.

The bombing of Sanctuary was kind of an obvious move, and it shows that no one is safe, pretty blunt mafiaoso move.

Let’s Talk Gay Canon

Ahsoka as always has big gay energy in this story, and while I wish her montrals were taller, I can understand why they shortened them for the makeup. As I said, my favorite ship for her and in Star Wars is Barrisohka. It reminds me of a few ideas I have for a polycule fic involving a Twi’lek, a Chiss, and a fucking Zygerian. Definitely gonna pin that down for later.

[bread-writes]

Hello. May I request a oneshot about Jake Kim celebrate valentine's day with his girlfriend please? Thankyou!

i’m late for valentines rip-- oh well lmao 

Anyways, I hope you enjoy this, anon!

Spoilers for Jake if you squint near the end.

Writing under the cut!

Jake Spending Valentine’s with His Girlfriend

Jake is--and probably always will be--a busy man. Whenever he completed a stack of paperwork, three more would suddenly appear before them. But, despite his misgivings and less than favorable life, he had you; the light in his usually dark life.

With Valentine's just around the corner, more and more work was passed on to him so the others could spend time with their lovers. As much as he wanted to just pass all of his work onto Jerry (he knew that the boy would do it if he so much as asked) he felt bad for leaving a kid with so much paperwork.

The door creaked open, revealing Jerry. Jake sent the younger boy a nod of acknowledgment, ushering him closer with a flick of his wrist before turning back to the paperwork with a sigh.

"Was there something you needed, Jerry?" Jake squinted at the small text of the report in his hand, running his free hand through his hair as a means to calm himself down. A soft sniffle came from the seventeen-year-old, causing Jake to raise a brow as he looked up from the document in his hand.

"Jerry, seriously, are you alright--"

"I deeply apologize, Jake." Jerry wiped the lone tear from his cheek, "Please forgive me."

"Wait, what--?"

Two familiar sets of arms wrapped underneath his arms, lifting him off the chair with ease. Jake could only blink as Jason and Brad continued to drag him down the winding path that led to his apartment complex They finally stopped at his doorstep, dropping him unceremoniously onto the ground before knocking on the door.

You emerged from the apartment, tiredly rubbing your eyes as you glanced between the four men. When your gaze landed on your lover, you rose a brow before slapping your forehead with a groan in realization.

"When I told you it would be nice to spend Valentines with Jake, I did not mean abduct him--what if he was busy?"

"I actually was busy. Thanks for asking, by the way," Jake cut in, rolling his now stiff shoulders. Jerry visibly deflated as he fiddled with his fingers while mumbling an apology. You accepted Jerry's apology with a pat on his shoulder before offering Jake your hand. He gratefully took your outstretched hand, pulling himself onto his feet.

"This was a pleasure," he began, "but I really should be getting back." He turned around, only to be stopped by Jason and Brad blocking the exit. Jake rose a brow, glancing between the two, "...What are the two of you doing?"

"We're putting you on temporary leave. Don't worry about the paperwork, we'll handle it." Jason brushed off his unspoken concerns motioning to you with his wrist.

Jake could only sigh, letting out a chuckle as he pushed his hair back, "I suppose a few days off wouldn't hurt." He glanced at you, a minuscule smile making its way onto his lips. You grinned back up at him, leaning in to place a peck on his cheek. The two of you bid goodbye to the three other Big Deal members before making your way into your shared apartment.

"So... Valentine's Day is tomorrow, right?"

"Wow, I'm surprised you actually remembered; being swamped up in your work and all."

"Oh, shut it." He snapped back, letting out a grunt as he flopped onto the worn couch. You snorted, taking your seat by his side as he continued to scroll through the seemingly endless amount of shows the streaming service had to offer. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders to pull you into his chest. You sighed contentedly at the familiar feel of his body heat, tracing the carefully inked lines of his tattoos.

At the sight of your favorite show, you tugged on his shirt, eyes sparkling as you excitedly pointed at the screen. Following the point of your finger, Jake grimaced, "Seriously, that one again? Haven't we watched that eight times already?" You shrugged, grounding one hand on his chest while the other reached out for the remote. He smirked down at you, outstretching his arm just barely out of your reach.

Curse him and long limbs.

Jake let out a garbled cry as you shoved his face away, lunging and successfully retrieving the remote.

"Ow, what happened to treating your boyfriend with love for Valentine's, huh?"

"What happened to letting your girlfriend watch her favorite show for Valentine's, huh?" You dangled the remote tauntingly in front of his face before resuming your place by his side.

He rolled his eyes, glaring at the show from the corner of his eye, "Fair, but can we at least pick another show?"

"Watcha gonna do if I say no, Mr. Big Boss?"

What you weren't expecting were his nimble fingers to dance along your sides--a dirty tactic that would only work on you, seeing that Jake was, unfortunately, not ticklish in the slightest. You screeched, dropping the remote before succumbing to a fit of laughter. Jake's eyes softened at the sight of you laughing, tears streaming down your face as you begged for mercy.

How he wished these sorts of days would last forever.

As his fingers ceased their movements, you greedily gulped in air, wiping at your tear-stained cheeks. Just as you were about to berate him for using such an underhanded tactic, he slanted his lips against yours in a soft kiss. The kiss was similar to the ones the two of you shared in the mornings before he left, yet far different at the same time. Gentle, yet passionate. Soft and somewhat greedy.

Just like him.

He parted slightly from you, "I love you."

"I love you too, Jake," you mumbled before once more placing your lips against his.

The remote and show remain forgotten as the two of you cuddle on the couch.

---

You were the first to awaken. Your limbs ached from staying in such a position for so long. As you tried to get up, Jake's arms anchored you in place. With a groan, you wiggled your way out of his arms, already missing his warmth as you entered the kitchen. Haphazardly scooping some rice onto a plate, you warmed the rice in the microwave whilst preparing some leftovers in a few separate bowls.

Lost in your thoughts, you missed the drowsy drag of Jake's feet until he once more wrapped his arms around your waist before placing a soft peck to the crown of your head, "Happy Valentine's Day."

"Right back at you, Mr. Big Boss."

The two of you took a seat at the dining table, sharing a few laughs and stories from your respective jobs.

"What're we going to do first?"

Jake hummed, "We can go shopping, I guess."

"You guess?" The teasing lilt in your voice evoked an eye roll from your boyfriend as he scoffed.

"Do you have anything in mind, shortie?"

"Sho--?! You agreed not to call me that!"

"Well, you agreed not to call me Mr. Big Boss, you hypocrite."

You glared at him, "Touche... Shopping does sound good, though. I heard a new bakery opened up nearby if you want to check that out."

"Sounds good to me." He nodded, gathering all of the plates and bowls on his way back to the kitchen, placing them in the sink with the rest of the dishes before making his way to your shared bedroom.

The two of you made your way through the crowded streets that were filled with couples out on dates and friends just goofing off. In one of your hands, ingredients to make chocolate swished around in a plastic bag, while the other was interlaced loosely with Jake's. 

So far, the day has gone off without a hitch. Though, you suppose it would be difficult to approach the man (teen) at a terrifying height of 6'5"(195 cm) and the woman (also a teen) smiling so freely with said teen man. The bakery the two of you planned to go to had some of the most delicious chocolate you've had in a while, hence why you bought the ingredients to make your own.

You clapped your hands lightly after laying out all the ingredients, your phone propped up a little ways away, displaying the recipe for some simple chocolate. Jake stood next to you, tying the apron behind his back before sparing you a wary glance from the corner of his eye.

"[Name], are you sure about this? We've never made chocolate and this recipe isn't... exactly "simple"."

You only smiled at him, rolling up your sleeves as you briefly scrolled through the recipe, "We'll be fine, Jake. You trust me, don't you?"

He fought the urge to shake his head, forcing himself to let out a hum of agreement.

By the end of about three trials, the kitchen--along with both you and Jake--was splattered with chocolate. Half-eaten and burnt pieces littered the counters and filled the trash bin. 

"I told you it wasn't easy."

"Shush, it looked easy." You puffed your cheeks, grabbing a rag to wipe down the counters, scrunching your nose at the smell of burnt chocolate. Jake chuckled, gently taking the rag from your and leaning down to place a kiss on your cheek.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say. Happy Valentine's Day, [Name]."

"Happy Valentine's, Jake."

Jake Kim was a busy man--too busy, some would say. At only nineteen years old he was able to lead one of the Big Four Crews to find his taken friend. But, he'll always find time for you; even if he has to be kidnapped to do so.

I hope you enjoyed this! this was actually so fun to write, but sorry I couldn’t get it out on Valentine’s oof. My fingers hurt ( ಥ_ಥ) oh the price to pay for satisfaction--