#casually they have both been said at me with the same disdain as a swear word. you guys will accept making fun of autistic people

[emilnikos]

I need non autistic people to realise meltdowns are a real debilitating thing that has a serious effect on your mental and physical health NOWWWWW!!! The way its been trivialized and lessened pisses me the fuck off. It's not a tantrum and it doesn't come from "being too weak-willed" it's painful and it's embarrassing AND MOST OF ALL IT'S INVOLUNTARY!! Don't claim to be an ally to autistic or disabled people and then make fun of people who have meltdowns. Literally get the hell out of my sight

[cinnaki]

Prowldown Fic 2

1000 word count

Lockdown sees Prowl before the final battle in season three of TFA to help give him an edge in the upcoming battle.

Commissioned by @rules-and-protocol

a/n: Yes I'm still salty at cartoon network for crying about toy sales being in favor of the movies, why do you ask?

Citrus rating: Grapes

Content warnings: None

Silence fell in the deep wood. Springtime was known for its symphony in the night. Crickets, bats, and even the call of owls settled into an eerie quiet. Prowl watched, echoing the silence, at the hazy moon above. A storm would come. Soon.

Humans had multiple ways of foretelling the future. The silence of animals, the hazy moon, and clouds resembling fish scales are hints of rain to come. He found this history fascinating, but not enough to ease his apprehension.

Lockdown had requested to meet him. Alone. The message said it was urgent. But the wording felt off. The Bounty Hunter almost sounded scared. And with Ultra Magnus dead, the hammer stolen by Ratchet, and Megatron poised to attack, both mechs had plenty of reasons to be afraid.

And so the Cyber Ninja waited at quite the scenic spot. A cliff overlooking an ancient ravine. Or, what is a glacial scar? Prowl did not know the difference but appreciated it all the same. To witness the aftermath of an ancient war between forces of nature on this world, and how beautiful they became, gave him an odd sense of hope for Cybertron.

Prowl sighed quietly, rubbing at his tense neck cabling. He could feel his plating flutter at the relief. He had been holding himself stiff without realizing it.

"Still wearing Yoketrons helmet, I see." Lockdown's voice crawled up the Autobot's spinal strut. Swiftly turning, Prowl met Lockdown's glowing red optics in the dense wood behind him.

Prowl quickly became aware of how close he was to the cliff's edge. "What do you want, Lockdown?" he demanded, voice filled with disdain. "If you haven't noticed, we have our servos full already."

"And here you squeezed in time for little old me? I'm touched." He took a confident step forwards.

"Not another step!" Prowl snapped.

Lockdown froze in place, holding his arms out in a casual shrug. "Fair enough.""I won't repeat myself again. What do you want?" Lockdown's expression was unreadable. But, for a single moment, Prowl could swear he saw regret on the Bounty Hunter's faceplate. "Right down to business, I see," Lockdown grumbled. "We're buddies now, right?"

"No."

"C'mon, after all we've been through?" he leaned against a tree. "Anyway, you and I both know this conflict is coming to a head again." He paused. Lockdown swallowed hard, dismissing his rehearsed speech about how Prowl was too young to remember the years leading up to the last Autobot Decepticon war. Watching him tread the same ground he himself did all those years ago hurt more than he would let on. He wanted to help, wanted to save him, just this once. He wanted to ask, beg if he had to, for Prowl to abandon this fight and run away with him. It was easier than taking a side in a war no one would ever win. But all that melted away when he saw Prowl's expression, his determination to stick through this to the end. And he admired that. That kind of strength is rare to come by.

"You really believe in him that much, don't you?" Lockdown finally asked.

"Who?"

"Don't make me say it."

Prowl thought for a moment. "Optimus?"

Lockdown gave a slight nod. Glad he was far enough away to escape Prowls EM Field, and thus, able to hide his own field from him. "Kid really did temper his spinal struts on this mud ball. The first time we met, he could barely hold his own axe." he chuckled.

Prowl narrowed his optics, showing impatience.

"But being a good leader won't save you when it comes down to it."

"Did you come here just to talk about Optimus, or do you have a point?"

"I do--actually." Lockdown pulled out a bundle of weapons, and equipment. "Good intentions never win battles, especially battles where an Omega unit is involved." Lockdown tossed the bundle between them, allowing silence to once again claim the night air.

Prowls optics trailed from the bundle back to Lockdown. He wanted to yell, to tear him apart for making this about upgrades again. But that expression haunted him. Lockdown never acted without purpose. "Why are you helping us? Didn't Megatron pay you enough?"

"Let us just say you bots are a group I can get behind. Maybe he can change Cybertron for the better. Maybe he can't. But we won't know if all of you die before it's over. I know you're not used to being told this, but it's your choice this time, Prowl. Make it a good one."

Lockdown turned swiftly, disappearing in the dark. The fear of possibly losing Prowl had overcome him, and he could no longer keep his vocalizer in check.

Prowl reached out after the mech, but let him go. His attention fell to the upgrades Lockdown had left behind. Most of which he would not know what to do with. Odds and ends that maybe Ratchet could make sense of. But a small bag of inverters caught his attention. They were built for helping regulate energy flow, something that could be very useful in Processor over Matter manipulation.

The ninja sighed, grabbing this new gear and stowing it away. Nothing explosive, so he would be able to safely take it to someone who would know what these were, and how best to use them for the storm to come.

[todoscript]

SEQUEL TO  “don’t forget it”

SYNOPSIS: One week after accidentally blowing you off on your date, Bakugou Katsuki seeks your forgiveness.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

genre: fluff, very little angst

word count: 5.4k+

warnings: none really accept maybe a character sustaining an injury

author’s note: hellooooo this is a very very very late part 2 of my don’t forget it drabble that many people asked for! i hope this lived up to your expectations and was worth the wait!

Since the events that led you to leave Bakugou’s room in a fit of bitterness after attempting to penetrate that thick head of his, he hadn’t been able to speak to you for a week.

It goes without saying he did his best to chase you down the hallway from his room and toward the elevator the moment he realized his faults. But at the stink eye you shot him through the minimizing slit of the elevator doors sliding into place, he knew he had no right to reconcile with you after pulling a stunt like that. Nor did he think you’d want to spare him any more words to begin with. It was clear you were done arguing with him.

“C’mon man, it’s probably best to let her cool down before you try to make up with her,” was the advice Kirishima offered when Bakugou returned to his room, disgruntled as he heavily fell back into his seat next to the desk. He did the bare minimum to acknowledge his friend’s words with a grunt before resuming tutoring the redhead, his method of teaching suddenly harsher than how it began thanks to his soured mood. He lapsed the day away by pounding Kirishima with problems upon problems against that hard noggin of his, both literally and figuratively.

At the very least, Kirishima earned himself a passing grade on their exam as a result of his hard work and their rigorous tutoring sessions. But what followed Bakugou’s and your relationship was still undetermined.

Days later and you were relentless in giving him the cold shoulder.

Bakugou was met with nothing but empty glances and blatant disinterest whenever he crossed your path. It felt like the wall you slotted between him grew another layer at each encounter, your defenses so impenetrable, it could give Kirishima’s quirk a run for its money. He couldn’t so much as utter a word in your direction without you effectively dodging every possible interaction in favor of joining another conversation nearby.

At first, Bakugou shrugged it off, calling your “childish attitude” unwarranted for something he thought was incredibly trivial. In his eyes, it was just an ordinary date at some run-of-the-mill restaurant he just happened to suggest to you because he took a liking to their spicy food. Not like it was some fancy dinner reservation serving caviar on dry toast beside a pretty, city night skyline. To him, it was nothing special.

However, as the week continued to roll by, it became clear to him how much he hurt you due to his selfishness. In a hangout with the Bakusquad, he learned that you apparently told Mina, along with the rest of the girls, everything during one of your girls’ nights. Which included the events prior to your heated argument in Bakugou’s dorm. And Mina, being just as peeved as you were at how Bakugou stood you up that day, had to let the blond know of the damage he’d done.

.

.

“I swear, Bakugou Katsuki, I know you can be an asshole sometimes—”

“Make that all the time,” Sero quietly adds in the middle of Mina’s rant while he lounges backward on Kaminari’s bed. If it wasn’t for his current dilemma, Bakugou would have elbowed him in the back of the head.

“—but this is crossing the line!” she finishes. Her arms are thrown exaggeratedly over her chest. The amber surrounded by the black scleras of her eyes points a beady look at the ash-blond crisscrossed on the floor between Kirishima and Kaminari.

“Poor girl sat there for hours waiting for you, only to find out she got blown off because you couldn’t even properly check your reminders!” She paces back and forth in the room, feet excessively stepping across the floor as she’s engulfed by the emotions she feels for her friend. “What’s worse? She comes back and finds out you’ve been doing your own thing with Kirishima the whole time!”

“Hey! It’s not like we were playing around! We were actually having a very serious study grind, thank you very much,” the redhead immediately clarifies. Though his explanation doesn’t alleviate Bakugou’s case in the slightest, who pounds his palms against the surface of the table they’ve gathered around.

“Look. I fucking get it, Ashido. I screwed up, okay?! Now what the fuck do you want me to do about it?!” he exclaims, anger overpowering his voice, but it does little to deter Mina.

“Fix it, obviously!” she quips back with equal fierceness, leaning in eye level with Bakugou.

“And how do you propose I do that, Raccoon Eyes? Hah?” Repositioning his elbow to rest on the table, he leans his cheek against his hand. “Y/n won’t even let me within five fucking feet in front of her and you still expect me ‘fix this’?”

Despite the situation weighing heavily on his shoulders, no immediate answer is bestowed upon him. That is, except the obnoxiously loud crinkle of a chip bag popping open next to Bakugou that cleaves into the scene like a record scratch. As if unable to read the mood in his own room, Kaminari fishes a chip to throw in his mouth, stirring the awkward silence into tension.

“Wow, Bakugou. I know you’re bad with girls and all, but you really messed up this time,” he remarks. His voice is slightly muffled as he munches his chips, continuing to wrinkle the bag for more. It incites a vein to swell on Bakugou’s forehead. He amasses all the willpower within him not to blast the bag of chips to ash, and the boy alongside it.

“If you dunce faces are just gonna sit here and throw salt in my wound then I’m outta here.”

“No, wait!” Kirishima catches Bakugou’s wrist before he fully lifts himself off the floor. “Come on, Bakugou, I’m sure we can think of something! We just need to put our heads together! Right, guys?” he assures. Finding it hard to deny his friend’s hardened conviction, Bakugou gives Kirishima the benefit of the doubt, albeit with slumped shoulders and a tentative raise of his brow as he slowly sits back down.

“Right! Everyone, let’s get some brainstorming done!” Mina yells encouragingly.

The atmosphere of Kaminari’s room is consumed by moderately thoughtful silence for the next ensuing minutes. A few hums pass, followed by an exchange of contemplative looks as four of the five rack their heads together to uncover a solution. The one in need of help only hunches in his seat, waiting with mild disinterest.

“Oh hey, don’t we have hero training with All Might tomorrow?” Sero is the first to comment, scooting to the edge of the blond’s bed.

“Yeah. So?”

“He said we were going to work on group exercises this time around. You know, teamwork and stuff,” he explains further.

At that, Mina snaps her fingers, the work of a brilliant idea flickering in her head. “Sero, that’s it! Tomorrow, during training, we’ll just form a group together with Y/n! After all, she’ll have to talk to Bakugou if you two are on the same team!” She claps her hands in front of her, her enthusiasm rippling through her body and shown energetically with each raise of her voice. “Then, while the rest of us ‘split up’ to cover more ground, that will be your chance to make everything better with Y/n! It’s genius!”

“You missed one fucking crucial detail, Pinky,” Bakugou gruffs. “That will only work if Y/n doesn’t join another group. The moment she sees I’m on yours, she’s not even going to hesitate making a u-turn.”

“Worry not~ I’ll just text all the girls except Y/n about the plan later and ask them to help sort everyone out!” She solves the problem with relative ease—quick as a click of her phone lighting up and finger sliding open to her messages.

“Uh, another thing though.” Kirishima raises his hand to spare his concern. “All Might says we’ll be splitting into groups of five at most, but there’s already five of us here.”

There’s a brief moment of deadpanning until Mina speaks casually. “Oh, that’s right. Kaminari. Take one for the team and make sure to join another group, ‘kay?” She settles without batting a lash.

Kaminari almost chokes on a mouthful of chips. “H-Huh?! What?! Why me?!!” he sputters.

“Because you’ve been eating chips this entire time and haven’t contributed to anything.”

“Hey, I offered the room, didn’t I?!” He tries justifying but is inevitably rejected by Mina’s wagging finger.

“Ah-ah, no complaints! Besides, it’s only one day of training. If we want this dilemma between Bakugou and Y/n fixed then we all have to play our part, got it?” Mina finalizes with a firm point of her finger nearly grazing the tip of the blond’s nose as he leans back to avoid it, eyebrows scrunched in discontent at the role he’s been reduced to.

“Alllllright!” Kirishima springs from his seat with outstretched arms and tightened fists. “Operation: Get Y/n to Forgive Explosion Boy is underway!”

“Dude, that’s a terrible name!” Sero laughs but rises from the bed to join the redhead’s cheer alongside Mina, the group already in high spirits.

Despite rolling his eyes at their swell of confidence, Bakugou does not object to the state of things. As crazy as it sounds, one could almost decipher the cusp of a grin pulling the seams of his lips as a possible sign he’s actually all for this extravagant little plan. Quite a first for Bakugou, but then again, there’s not much else he can do in this situation except rely on his pack of chumps.

Meanwhile, Kaminari grumbles something beneath the salty grit between his teeth.

“Alright, can you all get out of my room now?”

.

.

The scowl etched on your face carries a strong air of disdain that dampens the mood around your teammates considerably. Well, no one should be surprised. With Bakugou standing across from you, staring into the void of your expression, it’s to be expected that you wouldn’t be happy with this outcome.

No, “unhappy” doesn’t quite do your circumstance justice. You are beyond livid.

You feel your eyebrow twitch as you try quivering your lips to form a tinge of a smile. Unfortunately, all that quickly falls apart when you suddenly recall the disaster of last week, triggered by an accidental glance at Bakugou’s mug.

Trying to simmer down, you release a mental sigh amidst the turmoil boiling inside you.

Okay, maybe you’re over-exaggerating. Maybe you’re still just a bit too bitter for your own good and letting your emotions get to you. But in a class of twenty or some students, how did you end up in a group with the one person you were actively trying to avoid?

The moment All Might gave everyone the go-ahead to form their teams for today’s training exercise, you swiftly made a beeline toward two particular star students. Midoriya and Todoroki.

It was simple really. Your experiences throughout the school year told you Bakugou planned on staying away from his rivals when it came to teamwork, regardless of whether you’re there or not. He’s a competitive ass whose goal is to beat anyone he deems a threat in his climb to be the number one hero. It’s only logical you partner with people he adamantly dislikes to evade him.

Yet it seems fate has other plans for you today. By the time you found yourself pacing over to the two students you had in mind, they’d already gone and picked their own group members, forming teams before you could even ask.

Your nose wrinkles like you’ve taken a whiff of something rancid. Or, to be more specific, something fishy. Hooking an arm around Mina’s elbow, you drag the pink-haired girl off to a corner somewhere while tilting your head back at the three other boys.

“Ex. Cuse. Us.” Your words sound as stiff as cardboard. It comes out in practically a hiss when your eyes cross Bakugou. Once you’re positive you’re out of earshot, you whip your head at Mina.

“Mina, what the hell? When you dragged me over here to form a group with you you didn’t tell me he’d be there,” you groan. Childish and petty as you may sound, you just couldn’t fathom the idea of confronting the boy so soon.

Mina holds her hands out, ready to rationalize the whole ordeal. “C’mon Y/n, this is actually an advantage for us! With us four plus you on our team, we’re sure to knock the rest of the other guys out during training today! I mean we showed pretty good teamwork together at the sports festival, didn’t we?”

Steadying your gaze, you hold a finger below your chin as you slowly buy into the explanation. The reasoning is there. It’s hard to argue against a case like that, fully aware that being on the same team as explosion boy will easily snag good results for you and your party. ‘Cause as much of an arrogant jerk as he is, you have to admit Bakugou Katsuki knows his way around hero action like the back of his grenade gauntlets.

“Besides it’s not like you could avoid him for the entire school year. I mean, you two are in the same class. It was only a matter of time before you had to—”

“I know, Mina,” you interject, not wanting the rest of her sentence about the inevitable fall to your ear. “I just… Agh, you know what I mean!” You ruffle your hands through your hair in confliction, unsure how to piece your thoughts together.

Tilting your head over Mina’s shoulder, you sneak a glimpse at Bakugou, watching him as he’s cast to the side with the others. He’s fending himself from Kirishima and Sero’s combined jokes, that usual look on his face sending glares at the two and yelling something you could almost pick up on if you honed your ears a bit more. Surprisingly, when his eyes meet yours for a split second, he stands there looking nonchalant again. Both of you immediately avert your gazes.

Mina pats your shoulder, bringing you back to the conversation at hand. “I know, I know, but after this, I’m sure you can go back to ignoring his ass. After all, it’s just one training exercise, right?” she says. As her words deliver some relief to your ill-timed situation, you give in with a sigh.

Unbeknownst to you, turning your back to Mina and striding toward the rest of your teammates again, you miss the small glint in her yellow eyes, along with the subtle gestures she aims at the three boys, waving her pointed thumbs over your head secretively.

“So I take it you’re on the team with us, Y/n?” Sero asks when the two of you return. You nod in reply and the boy flashes his pearly whites in a wide grin that Kirishima mirrors. He nudges Bakugou at his sides which you subtly catch in the far corner of your eye.

You raise a brow suspiciously at their fidgeting, wondering why having you on their team warrants such enthusiasm, but you’re thankful for their energy at least. Someone has to lift the atmosphere for this not to be a complete drag and Bakugou surely isn’t going to be the mood maker of the group.

The blond scoffs. “Yeah, well, if you dumbasses are going to form a team with me, you’ll follow under my leadership, got it?”

The three readily agree. Though you roll your eyes, you don’t challenge his position, considering no one else is that much up to the task as he is. You’ll simply have to deal with the fact that you’re forced to tread through the day under his leadership. So with no objections, the five of you walk back to the class, gathering around the entrance of today’s battlefield.

Jumping into the activity, All Might goes about explaining today’s lesson to the four sets of teams—consisting of a group exercise to heighten teamwork. The name of the game? Capture the flag.

In short, each team will be split off into different sections of the labyrinth where their assigned flag is stationed. The objective is to not only protect your flag from being stolen but also try and steal an opposing team’s flag from their base and escort it safely to your home field. Nice and simple.

Not long after All Might’s explanation, the gate to the training grounds opens and you all scatter off into your teams, navigating through the twists of the maze to locate your flags. Once your group situated themselves onto your home base, you assemble in a huddle to devise a strategy before the game starts.

“So what’s the plan?” Kirishima asks, eyes darting around his teammates until they rest on Bakugou—the team leader. The ash-blond crosses his arms, a confident sneer plastered on his face as he’s already thought of his plan of action the moment All Might announced the mission.

“Easy. I’m going straight to the front-lines to swipe one of those dumbasses’ flags. You lot are gonna stay here and guard ours until I come back.” He delivers the strategy in a matter-of-fact tone that you quickly don’t take a liking to. Your fist curls in irritation.

“What kind of a plan is that?” you question audaciously, your voice louder than you intended. “So you’re just going to do all the work while we sit around and wait for you?”

Bakugou grits his teeth, leaning further into the huddle to direct his senseless logic. “Look, it’s the fastest and most surefire way to snag our victory without sacrificing anyone,” he says. Playing over his words again, he finds it surprising he even chooses to offer his reasoning. Because if it were anyone other than you he was arguing with, he’s certain he’d leave it at that.

Knowing the current tension between you was a result of his misjudgment, it feels only right for Bakugou to make an effort in communication. He ignores the antsy expressions belonging to the others who signal from behind you to follow along with their original plan.

You don’t seem to catch the hint, nor do you buy into his ridiculous strategy. “Oh, so you’re that confident you won’t get taken out by the other team then?” you quip. As a result, Bakugou’s brows tighten at your noncompliance.

“I know how to take care of myself. You of all people should realize by now that no other nerd in this whole damn class can outmatch me.”

“And what about an ambush? How do you know they simply won’t anticipate your strategy and see you coming?” You fire another counterargument and the boy purses his lips, beginning to find this quarrel spiraling into a headache rather than a step in the direction of reconciliation.

While Sero and Kirishima stand there, shifting their heads back and forth throughout the fiery exchange, Mina speedily reacts. The gears of that cunning mind of hers click into place again.

“You know what, Y/n’s right. Why don’t you two go together then?” she proposes boldly. Her suggestion catches you by complete surprise. You veer in her direction with an incredulous look blown in your eyes.

Before you can open your mouth to protest, the two boys standing beside her immediately back her up.

“Hm, Mina has a point. The chances of you falling into a trap wouldn’t be much if you two work together,” Sero remarks.

Kirishima follows, “Yeah, you guys can watch each other’s backs while going to collect the flag! It’s safer to go in a pair than by yourselves I’d say.”

The three seem adamant about the idea, sharing equally content expressions, and with all that said, you find it hard to dig yourself out of this situation. In a way, you practically volunteered yourself after questioning Bakugou’s plan and doubting his abilities. The group only feels it’s right you come along as his support since you clearly must be worried about his well-being.

Pushing your objections down your throat, you reluctantly agree to tag along with the blond. What you find exceptionally shocking is how Bakugou doesn’t oppose these new conditions. Given his hard-headed temperament, you thought he would’ve scoffed and turned his back at being paired without notice, but no such things were happening here.

...Odd.

“Tch, whatever. Let’s get going then,” is all he gives, starting in the direction into the urban area of the training course.

You trail behind him. “Coming, Boom-Boy…” you mutter the last bit but don’t suppress the urge to let your words be known. Bakugou turns his head and gives you a look akin to an uptight six-year-old you just offended at your local playground. You shrug in response, a corner of your lip pinched upward. He doesn’t pick a fight over the nickname, but his eyebrows remain fiercely slanted, and coupled with his heavy steps and the excessive swinging of his gauntlet-clad arms, it tells you of his emotional constipation plain as day.

.

.

The journey toward the other teams’ flags is cloaked in strained silence and the physical gap between you two does not encourage any of you to speak up. At this point, both of your levels of annoyance for each other have mellowed out. Now it just feels... awkward—strange. You don’t see his expression, nor does he see yours. It feels like you’re being left in the dark, having only the back of Bakugou’s head to stare at the entirety of the way, and though you supposedly have his back, Bakugou feels precarious in this state as he trudges along at the front, not daring to turn his head to cross your eyes.

The ambiance is reminiscent of the ancient Greek legend of Orpheus and Eurydice. Where Bakugou walks through the depths of the underworld, seeking you out in hopes you’d join his side once again. If he turns around now and spills his thoughts to you too soon, he fears that your forgiveness would be whisked away, thoroughly beyond his reach, and replaced with your promises of retribution.

That was the eloquent version of the situation anyway. To put it bluntly, Bakugou was just impatient as hell to say something to you. The silence suffocates him to the point where the words are nearly about to be squeezed out of his throat, but he bites his lip to snuff out the urges.

The more he keeps them in, the more fidgety he becomes, hands itchy and mouth trembling with grit between his teeth. The idea of not letting his voice be heard was something Bakugou detested. Mainly because it was already such a challenge to even keep his mouth shut, given his fiery attitude and lack of patience.

Man, what the hell am I hesitating for? he asks himself, that outspoken side of him spurring him on.

Ah, screw the uncertainty, he thinks. If he doesn’t say anything now, then he won’t get to say anything ever.

Bakugou stops in his tracks, turning his head. Here goes nothing,

“Hey, Y/n, I–”

“Katsuki–”

Words collide into each other, jumbled and incoherent, which take you two by surprise as you meet each other’s furrowed gazes. It’s quiet as you both piece your way through this, eyes trained like you haven’t seen each other in months when the reality is that a week of bitterness has somehow made you act like strangers. The bewildered look crossing his features is foreign to you; you’ve never quite seen Bakugou as taken aback as he is now.

“You first,” you grant before Bakugou could mix up your words again. Even being given permission, the blond still isn’t sure what to say, his thoughts lost on him the moment his voice clashed with yours. He takes a deep breath, calming his senses and steadying his mind for what he wants to convey.

“Look, Y/n, I don’t know how to put this as nicely as I can,” he begins, tone consistent yet wary, assessing your expression, “but I know I fucked up and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you there all by yourself. I shouldn’t… have blown you off like that and forgotten about you.” He delivers this bluntly—honestly—as open as a boy of his nature can muster with arms spread out, willingly exposing him to his faults and your reprisals.

Looking at you, he finds your eyes are cast to the floor, assuming to be reflecting on his words carefully. After some deliberation, you come across the vermillion in his eyes.

“Frankly, I haven’t entirely forgiven you just yet. But I will say that despite how I’ve been acting, I’m not as mad at you as you think,” is what you give, and Bakugou would be lying to himself if he didn’t achieve relief at your statement. He mentally releases a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding throughout the exchange. However, you aren’t done yet.

“I just want you to understand what moments like those mean to me. It’s during that time where I can share my feelings and learn more about you—understand who you are,” you say. Bakugou latches onto every word. “And it goes both ways, you know. It’s hard to want to stay in a relationship with someone who doesn’t make an effort to make time for you.” It’s obvious you aim that comment at him as Bakugou’s eyes soften slightly hearing it. His calloused, glove-clad hands wrap into his palms. Man, he really was a jerk.

“Still… I know you’re making an effort to be sincere and that you’re genuinely sorry for what happened, especially considering how the others seem to have set this whole conversation up, right?” Bakugou winces over the Bakusquad’s ploy coming to light and makes a note not to follow along next time unless those dummies can scrape up a more elaborate plan.

Despite that, he presses on, “So, what does this mean?” A smile settles on the curve of your lips, sensing his impatience as his voice hastens you along.

“Well…” you begin, speech drawn out in anticipation as you step toward him to where Bakugou follows your movements. That is until he catches a few shadowy figures shifting around atop the small building behind you. Before you can open your mouth to continue, his instincts flare to life.

“Hey, look out!” he exclaims, already acting on his warnings by lunging forward to push you out of the way. Your breaths draw back into your lungs, your body thrust abruptly into the opposite direction. Landing on your butt, you wince at both the shock and the pain, but your whines desist when you witness Bakugou taking a force to the head as a result of coming to your aid.

“Katsuki!” you yell, immediately getting off the ground to rush to his side, but he can’t find it in himself to respond. Afflicted with a substantial blow to the crown of his head, his whole being throbs and his vision spins.

Fuck, is Y/n, okay? is the first thing on his mind, ignoring the liquid trickling down his forehead. His question is answered upon turning his head to meet your anxious expression—your eyes wide and lips quivering as they move to say words he can’t exactly make out beneath the pounding sensations consuming his mind. As he feels a set of arms wrap around him, he tries discerning his surroundings to form a reply, but can only capture bits and pieces.

“—tsuki! ...old… n!”

“...god—! I’m so dead!”

A sputter of words tangling together is the last he hears before his vision fades to black.

.

.

The next time Bakugou awakes, his eyes slowly sever open to come face-to-face with a blurry white ceiling. The lights assault his vision as his senses take time to adjust, unraveling the environment to realize he’s laying on a bed—a hospital bed to be precise.

He attempts lifting himself but is met with retaliation in the form of his pulsating head which he immediately flinches at. His hand goes to rub his scalp to soothe the ache and he finds bandages wrapped tightly around him. “What the hell happened?” The last he remembers is traversing the urban area with you for the capture the flag mission before finally confronting the subject that had been plaguing your minds for a week now. After that, he caught sight of some object descending toward you and before he had even realized it, his feet had moved on their own. Next thing he knows, he’s waking up in the nurse’s office with a headache from hell.

Wait, what about you? Were you okay? Surely, he had to have pushed you out of the way in time, right?

His head moves quicker than it should’ve, revealing the other hospital bed in the room to be unoccupied, vacant. He sighs and his relief is further bolstered by the door to the nurse’s room opening to unveil you unharmed with only your heavy look of concern troubling him.

“Katsuki, oh thank god, you’re okay!” you say, quickly pacing over to his side with a glass of water in hand. You leave it at his bedside, sitting before him. Gauging your appearance up and down, Bakugou tries making out even the smallest details.

“You aren’t hurt?”

You’re appalled he would ask this despite clearly being the one patched up in a hospital bed right now, and likely sporting some serious head trauma.

“Of course I am, you’re the one that lunged forward to protect me,” you tell him. Bakugou looks down at his lap, figuring that was what happened, but hearing it from you comforted him more than he thought. However, his comfort is wretched from him by the intense pressure persisting in his skull. Seeing him in pain, you urge him to lay down and rest.

“How the hell did I end up here anyway?”

You fidget with your fingers, hesitating on answering. At that, the blond lifts a brow, suspicious.

“Mineta… accidentally dropped a rock on your head.”

“...You gotta be joking, right?”

Bakugou leers hard, finding the reason he was out of commission to be a damn pebble hitting his head a detriment to his pride. And because of Mineta of all fucking people. Still, if he hadn’t acted as quickly as he did, you would’ve been the one to meet his fate instead, and he weighed this outcome to better than the former.

Then you explain how the teachers had temporarily intervened to bring his unconscious body to the nurse’s, where the old lady went about tending to his injury. Said she did her job and all he needed was to rest and let her quirk take fuller effect within that time.

“So did we win the game?” He switches the topic to today’s mission of capture the flag that was cut short on his end.

You shake your head, but at least grant him the benefit of knowing Mineta’s team ended up placing last. At that, his eyelids shut and he crosses his arms behind his bandaged head. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t my intention to win anyway.”

You give him a look. “...Liar.”

Bakugou cracks an eye open at you. “Hah? What do you mean I’m a fucking liar?”

“I know you, Katsuki. I dated you, after all. And the Katsuki that I dated is an arrogant, competitive jerk who thinks of being the best above all else.” Bakugou scrunches his nose, wondering what you’re implying through your... overly frank descriptions. “Still… he’s sweet and caring at times… and reliable when he needs to be,” you continue, tone softening that draws Bakugou in, “And the kind of guy I want to give a second chance to.”

Absorbing your words, Bakugou blinks. “S-Seriously?” He doesn’t mean to stutter, but the offer catches him off-guard. He replays what you just said. That’s what he heard, right? A second chance?

You giggle at how uncharacteristically astonished he sounds. “Yes, seriously.”

“Does that mean you forgive me for what happened last week?”

You hum between pursed lips in playful contemplation. “Well, maybe you can redeem yourself by going on another date with me then?”

Hearing your proposal, a wide grin arcs his lips, edging into a smirk.

“That’s it? Well, I can definitely fucking do that,” he states, confidence rejuvenating his body at the new, hopeful chance before him.

“Oh, just one more thing though,” you suddenly add.

“What?”

“We are not going to that Chinese Restaurant again.”

[andypantsx3]

Hii can I request a deleted scene for "if I could keep cool" that tells chapter 2 from Shouto's POV? I would absolutely love to c what was going through Shouto's head when he figured out that Y/N was just a cleaning lady and what was the moment that made him want to ask her out when he saw her at his house afterwards! Thank u!!

I accidentally got carried away, so this bad boy is 1.9k!! My apologies lol. I hope you like it!!

It wasn’t every day that someone told Shouto Todoroki to go fuck himself. 

Particularly not quirkless civilians, and never those he’d rescued. 

There was usually a lot more breathless gratitude, some bowing and scraping, and—mystifyingly—a lot of phone numbers, handkerchiefs, and very unsubtle attempts to get a hand or two around his biceps. Shouto didn’t really know what his biceps had to do with it, but he’d seen the same thing happen to Midoriya and Kirishima as well—and Bakugou once, before he’d nearly gnawed the woman’s hands off—so he assumed it was just another social cue he’d never understand.

As little as he cared for social cues, however, he was certain that there was usually a lot more thank you and a little less go fuck yourself involved in the whole rescuing process.

But then, he’d also never told off a civilian for having been kidnapped before. 

A civilian who, he’d come to realize almost immediately afterward, hadn’t deserved it.

When he’d asked his mother her advice over the phone, she’d told him the best thing to do was to be honest and try to start fresh. “White flowers mean forgiveness—tulips new beginnings,” she’d advised him.

So Shouto had ducked into the nearest florist and brought back an apology in hopes that you would accept it. 

He might have known, however, that you’d manage to turn even a simple apology completely on its head.

The clatter of cleaning supplies in his kitchen on Thursday afternoon told Shouto you’d let yourself in for your usual shift. He followed the sound, only for it to halt at his approach, the kitchen seemingly empty as he drew nearer.

He stopped short, fighting down a surprised swell of amusement when he realized you’d ducked down, hiding yourself behind his counters as if anyone, especially a pro hero, might be fooled by that.

“I know you’re there,” he said, keeping his tone even.

He heard a muttered swear word, and then you were rising slowly to your feet, wearing a sheepish expression, and clutching a bottle of windex like a weapon.

You looked just as you had the day of your rescue, though obviously a little less harrowed by a kidnapping. You were dressed casually in jeans and a simple shirt, no indicator that you were an employee of a cleaning service—Shouto felt at least a little justified in his mistake from last week.

You were clearly a college student, the backpack dumped at his kitchen island was evidence of that much, overflowing with textbooks and notes as it was, and you looked just slightly disheveled, like you might have come straight from class.

It was part of some nebulous, unassuming appeal to you, now that he had occasion to notice. He’d remembered your features twisted up in disdain, but they were open in surprise now, your eyes wide, fixed on him. His own eyes were drawn to the scrunch of your nose, a little curl of embarrassment that he suddenly found himself unable to tear his gaze away from.

“I, uh, thought you weren’t supposed to be here,” you admitted to him with a visible cringe.

Shouto almost laughed. He didn’t know much about you, but it was clear to him now that you weren’t anything like a crazy fan. You looked like you’d rather be anywhere but here at the moment. In fact, you looked rather like you might bolt any second.

A strange feeling shifted in his chest, and Shouto cut right to the chase.

“I owe you an apology,” he said simply.

You startled so violently that you dropped the windex. “W-what?”

Shouto sighed, admitting, “My manager schedules the cleaning days. I didn’t realize that you were—that is to say, I thought you were a fan who had broken in and managed to get kidnapped while you were at it.”

You gaped, another confused little expression that Shouto found himself fixating on with an intensity that surprised him. The weird feeling in his chest shifted, burning a little hotter. 

He wondered absently what other expressions he could get you to make.

“Oh, I, um...nope. Not a fan,” you said, and the feeling grew more insistent. 

He paused over the phrasing—not a fan. 

It had never bothered him before, when someone was a bigger fan of a classmate than they were of him, or weren’t really a hero fan at all. Shouto honestly did not quite understand why hero work was so tied up in fandom in the first place, and only attended fan events because his manager’s temper was not a thing to be trifled with. 

He wanted to be a hero who put people at ease, but ease was the last thing he felt with people clamoring all over him. Fighting villains was infinitely more preferable.

So why did your admission that you weren’t a fan of his niggle at his brain, like a particularly insistent parasite?

Who were you a fan of, if not him? 

“...Well, glad that’s cleared up now. I’ll just, uh, go then,” you said, grabbing an armful of the cleaning supplies and shoving it back under the sink hastily.

Shouto had moved before he knew what he was doing, getting himself in between you and the door out to the hallway. 

“Wait,” he said, feeling uncomfortable. “I want to make up for what I said to you. You...didn’t deserve that, especially not right after you’d been kidnapped by a villain.”

He watched you eye the space between his hip and the counter, like you were considering making a break for it. As he watched your face, he felt some strange hope that you might try it, a certainty he would catch you. 

...Why did he want to catch you?

You waved a hand. “It’s fine. You saved me, we can call it even.”

Shouto’s mouth turned down minutely. He’d behaved badly, but surely you’d credit him better manners than that. “It’s my fault you were taken in the first place. I’d like to apologize properly.”

Your face did something weird, then, another distracting little curl of the nose. “You don’t actually have to go fuck yourself,” you blurted.

Shouto stared at you, caught off guard.

“Uh, I mean. You saved my life,” you babbled suddenly. “And yeah what you said to me was super rude, but what I said to you was also super rude. So, um, I’m sorry too. And I really would just like to call it even and forget about it because it’s super embarrassing for both of us and I could literally die thinking about it.”

You stopped suddenly, looking self-conscious like you’d realized you’d been rambling. Shouto almost wished you hadn’t.

“I hadn’t really planned on it,” he said quickly.

“Hadn’t planned on what?”

“Fucking myself,” he clarified. You choked on a shocked laugh, and he let a small smile tug at his mouth—there.

Finally.

Finally you looked a little more comfortable with him. 

Shouto tried hard not to look too pleased with himself.

“Oh, well that’s good, then," you said. Then you puffed up a little, adding, "That’s probably a job for your actual secret lover.”

Good lord. “Not you, too.”

You threw him a smile, and Shouto’s heartbeat tripped over itself. “But I have evidence. I saw that homemade soup in your fridge once with the love note attached.”

It took him a moment to focus on what you were saying, but Shouto recalled the soup in question. It had been quite good, even if Bakugou had spent almost a half an hour ranting about what a weak ass little bitch he was for catching a cold. It had almost been worth it, the soup was that delicious. “Ah yes. That secret lover.”

“Cute pet name, too,” you said.

Shouto let out a low laugh, recalling the note. “You fucking fuck, was it?”

You laughed too, tension easing from your shoulders. Shouto’s eyes hungrily traced even that small movement.

A dawning sense of what was happening finally settled over him as he pronounced, “As it happens, however, I did already plan more of an apology.”

You looked up at him, your brow furrowing. “You planned...more of an apology?”

He gestured to a tall vase of white tulips on the kitchen counter. Your eyes went a little rounder as you observed them. You looked like you weren’t sure if they were for you, as if there were another previously kidnapped cleaning girl lurking about, who might be in need of an apology.

What a fascinating thing you were.

“I’ve been told that they mean forgiveness and new beginnings. I had hoped that we might...start over,” Shouto explained. He couldn’t help but feel self-conscious.

“I didn’t bring you any flowers,” you blurted.

He covered up a surprised laugh with a cough, the feeling in his stomach burning hotter. “I hadn’t expected them.”

He watched you turn back thoughtfully to the bouquet, certain now.

Over the phone, his mother had also said white flowers carried connotations of honor and purity. Two notions, Shouto realized with a growing sense of curiosity, that may be entirely inapplicable to his feelings about you.

He didn’t know much about you, but he knew for certain that he’d like to know more. And as he watched you reach out to pluck at a petal, wearing a shy little smile, he thought that yes, honor and purity had very little to do with his intentions at the moment.

You thanked him for the flowers, and Shouto made it clear to you that he hadn’t meant what he’d said about you being unwelcome here. He wanted—no, desired your return now. 

“That’s good to hear, thank you,” you said. Then your smile went a little mischievous. “As you can see, though, it didn’t really deter me.”

Shouto let himself smirk. “If I hadn’t seen the cleaning supplies already on the counter, I would be concerned that you’d come back for revenge.”

“There’s still time,” you joked. “Maybe I was going to play the long game and fill all the bottles with Sprite.”

The mulish statement surprised him into another laugh. “I hope the flowers are enough of a deterrent.”

You looked over the flowers again, then smiled up at him. His eyes caught on your mouth.

“The bribe has been accepted. Your countertops are safe from me.” You paused, then added, “For now.”

The hot feeling was everywhere now, simmering just underneath Shouto’s skin. He left himself lean towards you, relishing in the way your breath caught in a tiny hitch. “Be warned that I will do whatever it takes to ensure the safety of my countertops.”

You complained that he hardly used them, but complied nevertheless. Then you bullied him out of the kitchen, that tiny little scrunch back on your nose.

Shouto let you have your way, making his way over to the couch and settling on it with a book he had absolutely no intention of reading. Instead, as he watched you clean, he considered things.

He had always been straightforward about his goals. Once he’d chosen heroism as his dream, he’d let nothing stand in his way, working diligently all through UA, shooting nonstop through the ranks before breaking into the top five this year, one of the youngest to have ever done it. 

He was deliberate about what he wanted. He worked hard for what he wanted.

And as he wandered back towards the kitchen, questions ready in his mouth, he knew what else he wanted.

He wanted to know more about you.

He wanted to spend more time with you.

He wanted…

Well, he rather thought he wanted you.

I was going to edit this but every time I went to touch it, I made it worse. I hope you liked it anyway!

Garbage Fest masterlist & schedule.

[maria-scribbles]

shadow skating

y/n kicks off her holiday season in a way she never expected: teaching the king of hawkins high to skate in an endearing attempt to impress a girl. the good news? steve's a surprisingly good student, despite his infamous reputation and terrible balance. the bad news? y/n finds herself falling for him and his stupid hair, even when she knows he'll never be hers. after all, she couldn't possibly be the girl he wants, right?

fandom: stranger things

ship: steve harrington x ice skater!reader

word count: 3.6k+

featuring: swearing, holiday fluff, general cheesiness, steve being a clumsy himbo, gratuitous use of figure skating jargon

a/n: holiday challenge day 1: ice skating. this is my first time publishing anything i’ve written for this fandom so apologies in advance if it’s terrible. as always, unbetaed so all mistakes are my b.

come join my holiday challenge!  

December 1984

"You okay?" Y/N's voice echoed through the empty rink as she skated over to the boy sprawled flat on his back, spread-eagled like a snow angel, and it took everything in her not to laugh at the withering glare Steve sent her way when she came to a stop at his side, her toe pick dragging faintly through the ice.

"Just peachy."

"Hey, at least you didn't fall on your face this time," she fired back with a cheeky grin, finally giving into her laughter when he rolled his eyes, muttering "yeah, yeah" under his breath as he took her outstretched hands and let her help him to his wobbly feet. He managed to stand on his own for only a second or two before his arms started flailing and she quickly reached out to steady him once again, her hands wrapped securely around his wrists.

"This is harder than it looks," he said with his own fingers gripping tight to her forearms and Y/N shrugged off that weird feeling she got in her stomach when she felt the warmth of his palms through the thick wool of her sweater.

"Well," she replied, casually starting to skate backwards and pulling Steve along with her, "Those weak ass ankles of yours don't really help, you know."

His laugh rang loud throughout the vacant arena and Y/N's smile grew as she patiently guided him around the ice for a few laps, watching his strides become more and more confident with each left turn.

If someone would've told her she'd be teaching Steve Harrington how to skate, she'd have laughed right in their face. Her, the weird girl who spent way too much time alone at the rink working on her axel, willingly helping him, the king of Hawkins High who had a reputation of only thinking about himself? Fat chance of that.

But there she was, gliding alongside him now as he slowly skated on his own, one hand hovering near his elbow just in case those weak ankles of his decided to give out again and send him into another face plant. 

When she agreed to let her neighbor Dustin and his friends come in after closing for a private skate two weeks ago -the rink's owner always let Y/N do whatever she wanted, considering she was both her best employee and customer- she had no idea one of those friends was the infamous teenager himself. Seeing his car roll up that night, Dustin waving enthusiastically from the passenger seat and the others crammed in the back like sardines, instead of Mrs. Henderson's mini van had thrown her for a loop, one that took her an embarrassingly long time to recover from as she let them in through the back door and slipped behind the counter to pass out pairs of skates. 

It wasn't until he was standing in front of her asking for a size ten did she look up to acknowledge his presence, instantly noticing the small, almost shy grin he offered her that she awkwardly returned. The two weren't quite friends -never had been, really, despite having at least one class together since the fourth grade (not that she was keeping track or anything, no)- but as Y/N laced up her own skates and led the group out onto the ice, she wondered if maybe, just maybe that could ever change. This Steve was so, so different from the one she knew from school: laughing as he and Dustin both instantly fell to the ground in a heap, a real, genuine smile on his face instead of his usual cocky smirk and she found her eyes following him and his clumsy self throughout the evening, her mind racing as she tried to figure out exactly which version of him was the real thing.

The next afternoon had only confused Y/N further when he showed up unannounced at the rink after school and the sound of his sudden enthusiastic cheering when she successfully landed a double Lutz startled her so badly that she lost an edge and fell on her ass right in front of where he stood by the bleachers. 

"Holy shit, are you okay?" He was on the ice before she could protest, shuffling along the glass in his tennis shoes until he reached her and offered a hand. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you-"

"It's fine, I'm fine," Embarrassed beyond belief, she waved off both his apology and outstretched hand and hauled herself to her feet, first brushing snow from her leggings and then the blades of her skates, one at a time. "That happens a lot, don't worry."

"Oh," He said, letting his arm return to holding onto the boards in an effort to keep himself upright. "Still, I'm sorry-"

"Seriously, Harrington, it's fine. No worries," She smiled, ignoring the stinging pain in her butt and leaned against the glass next to him. "Why are you here, though?"

It was his turn to look embarrassed as that same semi-shy grin from the night before appeared on his face before he blurted out in a rush, "Can you teach me how to skate?"

Y/N blinked. Of all the things to come out of his mouth, that was definitely not what she expected; to be fair, though, anything he could've possibly said would've been pretty damn unexpected, considering the circumstances. "You want me...to teach you...no offense, Steve, but why?"

He shrugged at her question before glancing around the empty arena and leaning close like he was about to spill a secret. "Would you judge me if I said I was trying to impress a girl?"

That was more like the Steve she knew, she thought as she breathed a quick laugh with the shake of her head. "Only a little bit. This girl, she likes to skate?"

He grinned again, this time wide and pretty damn smitten, and nearly lost his balance when he tried to keep one of his feet from slipping out from underneath him. "She's the best skater I know. You should see her out there, gliding around like a freakin' angel or something."

That was...surprisingly sweet coming from the boy she once thought she had all figured out, sweet and sincere and downright adorable and Y/N found herself nodding without any idea why. "Okay."

"Okay what?"

"I'll teach you, alright? I don't mess around when it comes to skating though, so you better be ready to work your ass off."

The smile he sent her way was so bright it was almost blinding, like sunlight dancing off freshly fallen snow. "You're the best, Y/N. I owe you one."

"You got that right, Harrington." She said, wrapping her hand around his elbow and tugging him toward the door that led off the ice. "Let's go get you some skates, first lesson starts now."

Ten lessons in and despite a few nasty falls and a bad habit of tripping over his toe picks, he wasn't doing that badly; not only was he a surprisingly quick learner and good listener, he took her playful teasing like a champ -to be fair, she did tell him she dished out tough love when she taught so he knew that was part of the deal- and threw it right back without a second thought. Never before had she felt so...at ease around someone who wasn't her sister and it was both exhilarating and just a bit scary.

As they finished up their Friday night lesson and stepped out of the rink into the biting wind, Y/N found herself wishing for Monday because the idea of parting ways for the weekend rested heavy on her heart like the big, fat snowflakes that were falling from the dark sky. Becoming friends with Steve was something she never expected -making friends was never an easy thing for her to do- and yet slowly, surely it had happened, and she realized that she would stop the world from spinning if it meant she could spend just a little more time with him. When he lingered by his car, twirling his keys around his finger as white started to dot his stupid, wonderful hair, she hoped he was thinking the same thing.

"So..." She spoke first and broke the comfortable silence that had settled over the parking lot like the falling snow. "I was wondering if you could maybe give me a ride? My car's in the shop and I really don't feel like walking home in this."

"I do owe you," He grinned at the disdained wrinkle in her nose and unlocked the car, climbing inside without a word before reaching over to push open the passenger side door. "Get in, we're getting fries first."

She smiled widely, cheeks stinging from the cold and hope bursting in her chest like New Year's Eve fireworks. "You're buying."

That's how they ended up in a corner booth of the local diner, sharing a basket of fries and sipping on milkshakes despite the snow blowing outside the window.  

"Honestly, you're doing pretty well for someone with such weak ankles," Y/N laughed as Steve rolled his eyes and dunked a fry in his shake with more force than necessary. 

"You're never gonna let me forget that, are you?" 

"Nope." She popped the 'p' of her breezy answer before plucking the cherry from the towering mound of whipped cream on the top of her drink. "Just like you won't let me forget that time I fell on my ass after you scared me and then had the audacity to ask for lessons!"

"Hey, you," He pointed a fry in her direction and laughed when she instantly ripped half of it out of his hand and lobbed it at his chest, "had the audacity to agree to them!"

Y/N pressed her lips together in an effort to keep a straight face as she joked, "You know what? I take back what I said, you haven't improved at all. You're a fucking skating disaster, Harrington."

The gleam in his eyes reminded her of the Christmas lights strung up above their heads, sparkling and bright and full of something that filled her whole body with a lovely warmth she never wanted to lose. "Well, Y/N, hate to break it to you but me sucking just proves you're not that good of a teacher."

"How dare you," She gasped in mock offense and lightly kicked him in the shin, the last of her composure dissolving completely when he fell back against the cracked vinyl seat like he'd been shot. "Good luck impressing your mystery girl without me."

If all her focus wasn't already on the boy sitting across from her, she would've missed the way his grin faltered for just a moment as he turned away to look out the window. Her brow furrowed at that, as well as the sudden bitter taste in her mouth at the mention of the girl he was trying to impress, the girl whose identity was still unknown to her and at this point, she wasn't quite sure if she even wanted to find out.

"Steve?" Her hand moved on its own to lightly touch his wrist, the warmth of his skin bleeding into her cold fingers. "You okay?"

"Why did you do it?"

"Huh?"

"Why did you agree to teach me how to skate? And for nothing, even." He gazed at her over the tall malt glass in front of him, brown eyes searching hers until she looked away, down at her hand still resting on his beside their shared fries as her cheeks started to flood with heat.

She'd been asking herself that question for two weeks now, since this whole thing started at the beginning of December. Two weeks later, with only eight days left before Christmas, she was starting to think she might have an idea why; too bad she was too scared to even admit to to herself, let alone say it out loud. 

"I don't know." She answered after a too-long pause in which she pulled her hand back to her lap -with her eyes still cast down at her melting shake, she missed the disappointed look on his face at the loss of her touch- and shrugged her sweater-clad shoulders. "I love skating, okay? It's my favorite thing to do in the world but, honestly, it gets kind of lonely being out on the ice all by yourself. I...I guess I just couldn't pass up an opportunity to share it with someone else...and um, not be alone for once. You can't put a price on that."

When he didn't reply, she glanced up from watching a bead of condensation roll down the stem of her glass only to find him still looking at her, the corner of his mouth turned up in that same soft smile she'd fooled herself into thinking was just for her.

"Even if that someone is me, Y/N?"

She smiled back and bumped her boot against his sneaker under the table. "Even if that someone is you, Steve. You're not as bad as that reputation of yours makes you seem."

A comfortable silence fell over the two teens as they went back to their food, the diner around them becoming busier and busier the later the night went on. Someone switched the radio to a Christmas station and in between bites of fries Y/N softly sang along to Wham!'s Last Christmas, an ear worm of a song that'd been stuck in her head ever since it was released at the beginning of the month.

"This year, to save me from tears, I'll give it to someone special."

"Have you ever been afraid of not being good enough for someone?" Steve asked suddenly, causing the girl to look away from the snow still falling steadily outside the window.

"More times than I'd care to admit," She answered honestly, finishing her milkshake and pushing the empty glass to the side. "Why? Is this about your mystery girl?"

"I think I'm realizing that she's way, way out of my league. Like, she's a pro in the MLB and I'm...playing tee ball with five-year-olds." He said as he dragged a fry through the glob of ketchup on his plate, back and forth, over and over until Y/N once again reached across the table to put her hand on his.

"Listen to me and listen good 'cause I'm only gonna say this once," She said quietly, just loud enough for him to hear over the noise of the diner. "If this girl doesn't see how absolutely wonderful you are, she is -and I'm saying this from the very bottom of my heart so you know it's true- a total fucking dumbass. Got it?"

That whooshing feeling in her stomach came flooding back at the sight of the bright blush slowly spreading across his face at her words and as his pinky moved to link with hers, one crazy, impossible thought popped into her head: she'd do anything, absolutely anything to stay in that moment forever.  

But that's the sad thing about fleeting, promising moments: eventually, no matter how hard you try, they still come to an end. With their fries gone and milkshake glasses empty, they had no reason to stay and so they ventured back out into the cold night, walking closer than they ever had before to Steve's car. It wasn't until he pulled into her driveway did he speak, turning to face her in the passenger seat and breaking the warm, comforting silence that had wrapped around them like a blanket on the short drive from the diner.

"Thank you."

Y/N quirked an eyebrow. "For what?”

"Everything. Teaching me, what you said back there...being my friend." He said simply and she felt her heart skip a beat when that smile of his appeared on his face and lit up the whole car. 

"I should be thanking you," She replied, picking at a loose thread dangling from the sleeve of her coat. "I don't have many friends but I'm really, really happy you're one of them."

"Me, too."

She smiled softly and reluctantly reached down to grab her bag from the floor. "I'd better get inside before my grandpa sends out a search party. Thanks for tonight, I, um, I had a lot of fun."

"So did I, even after you ever so rudely threw that fry at me."

"You deserved it." She said in a sing-song voice as she opened the car door and placed one foot on the snowy ground outside. "I'll see you Mon-"

"Wait." It was his turn to touch her hand, his larger palm folding over hers and stopping her from leaving. "Would you want to do it again sometime? Maybe over Christmas break?"

She hoped all the effort she was putting into keeping her cool was paying off as the butterflies exploded in her stomach at his words. "I'd like that."

He squeezed her hand once before letting go and sending her off with a bright grin. "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Steve."

He waited until she disappeared into the house before driving off into the night and she watched him go through the living room window, falling back onto the couch with a giddy smile after his car turned the corner. 

The next morning found Y/N alone at the quiet rink, the only sound coming from her blades smoothly cutting through the ice as she skated through her practice routine; triple toe loop, Biellmann spin, double Salchow. It was methodical and soothing, her body running through the maneuvers it knew by heart while her mind thought ahead to the one move that she'd never been able to successfully land: the double Axel. Today was her day, she could feel it and no matter how many tries it took -she'd already bit it twice- she was going to land that jump.

Approaching the move head on, she picked up speed until she was flying across the ice, cold wind whipping through her hair and stinging her cheeks; she bent her left knee, lifted her right foot, and leaped from her left outside edge before spinning two and a half times and landing, albeit a bit shakily, on the outside edge of her right. 

"Yes! Holy shit!" The girl's shouts echoed throughout the arena as she spun to a stop, excitedly punching her fist in the air, and she was so caught up in celebrating that she didn't notice when the door opened and someone stepped out onto the ice with her. 

"I have no idea what that was but it looked impressive and scary as all hell." 

Y/N spun around to face the owner of the sudden, familiar voice and couldn't keep herself from smiling when she noticed no trace of unsteadiness in Steve's skating as he slowly came to a stop at her side. "It's called a double Axel. What are you doing here?"

"Well," He said, cheeks flushed not just from the cold, taking another step closer until his skates bumped against hers, "last night I realized I didn't do something I really wanted to, so I came to fix it."

"And what was it?" Her voice was breathless and full of unbridled hope as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "The thing you didn't do?"

"This."

And with that he cupped her face in both hands and leaned down to press his lips to hers. Y/N responded immediately, kissing him back with everything she had and then some, like she'd wanted to do ever since that first night. That first night when she started to see him for who he really was, not the reputation given to him by their classmates. Ever since that next day when he accidentally scared her and then asked for lessons so he could impress a girl -shit, mystery girl.

Her hands, having found their way to his chest, gently pushed him back at the thought that popped into her head and the loss of his warm touch made her shiver; opening her eyes, she found him looking stricken a foot away, an apology written on his face clear as day.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"No, no! It's not that," She said in a rush, skating forward and all but crashing into him in a desperate attempt to keep him near, to keep that euphoric, heavenly feeling being close to him brought her. "That...that was, shit, that was perfect, okay? But what about her?"

"Her?" His hands gripped her waist as hers settled on his chest once again, gloved fingers curling in the soft cotton of his green sweater. "Who's 'her'?"

"Your mystery girl, the skater!"

The look on Steve's face was the perfect mix of exasperation and affection and she felt her cheeks burn as he replied, "Y/N, it's you. It's always been you."

Oh. Oh. Holy hell, she must be the dumbest bitch on God's green earth. This whole time, it wasn't just wishful thinking: every lingering stare, every lasting touch, every time he smiled that soft smile, they were all real and she could finally say, with certainty, that they were just for her, like she'd always hoped they'd been. 

All she could think about now was kissing him again so she tugged him down to her level, fully intent on picking up where they left off and she'd almost reached his lips before he slipped and sent them both tumbling to the ice in a tangle of limbs. 

"Maybe I still need more lessons after all," He said, propping himself up on his elbow and smiling down at the laughing girl lying beneath him. 

"Hey, I finally thought of something you can do to pay me back!"

The ice was cold through her leggings but she didn't even notice as she slid her fingers into his hair and pulled him down so they were barely an inch apart.

"Yeah?" 

"Kiss me."

tagging some moots who might be interested ❤: @sinkbeneathwaves​ @cordeliascrown​ @alexa-playafricabytoto​ @perkeusjackson​ @chrlsgillespie​

[benedictsvestcollection]

Ever Ever After- A Whiskey x reader Modern Cinderella fic

Rating: T for some swearing mostly!

Warnings: Ummmm.... Mentions of death, fluff, sweetness and stepmom being a bitch. 

Word count: 2.3K

A/N: Tomorrow is @absurdthirst‘s birthday so this chapter is dedicated to you my darling! Happy early birthday!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

As soon as Jack and Ginger were in the back of the towncar and away from prying eyes, Jack heaved a heavy sigh. “I do not like that woman.” He growled as Ginger began typing away an email to Champ. 

He hadn’t stopped thinking about the way Miranda had spoken to you, her own step-daughter. The entire day, he had witnessed you being treated with such disdain and rudeness. 

“Your dentist is going to hate you when they find out you’ve been grinding your teeth so much today.” Ginger teased him, spying the way Jack clenched his jaw so much. Mad on your behalf. A woman, he barely knew but already felt innately protective of. 

“Who the hell talks to their family like that?” He asked her. “She was nothing but sweet and hardworking all day and they just… Spoke to her like that.” 

“Terrible people. They’re terrible people Jack.” Ginger told him simply, knowing he had asked a rhetorical question. But answering him nonetheless. 

Jack sighed, knowing she was right. “Do we have anything on the daughters?” He asked her, changing the subject. 

Ginger shook her head. “As far as I can tell, they’re just spoiled bitches.” She muttered. “But not aware of what their mom is up to.” 

“Like mother, like daughters.” Jack muttered out with a huff. 

“You like her.” Ginger stated matter of factly. “And not just in a ‘what a sweet girl’, or ‘she’s part of the mission’ kind of way.” She teased him. 

He merely grunted in response and shifted in his seat, readjusting his suit jacket. Glaring at Ginger while she smirked from her phone. She was right and he hated that she was. 

“I like her too. Just maybe not in the same way you do.” She continued on, smirk still on her face.

“You done Ging?” He muttered at her grumpily. “We have work to do.” 

~~~~~~~~~

You sighed in contentment inhaling your french toast, bacon, eggs and coffee at your favorite diner. You had cleverly booked your stepmother and sisters for a spa weekend. But in reality, it had been for you. A peaceful weekend to yourself with no work to do. So now, you were treating yourself to brunch at your favorite New York diner. 

“Well, well, well… Isn’t this a welcome sight for sore eyes.” Came a southern drawl over you. Warm like bourbon and comforting like a worn in fall sweater. 

You looked up to see warm brown eyes and a mustache smirk looking down at you in your booth. 

“Oh… Hello Mr. Daniels.” You stammered out at him, suddenly even more relieved that your stepmom and sisters weren’t around, let alone didn’t hang out in your area or they’d accuse you of ruining things by simply talking to him. 

“Oh please darlin’. Call me Jack. Mr. Daniels makes me feel old.” He grinned at you and slid into the booth across from you and ordered a coffee.

“I um… This doesn’t seem like the kind of place you would come to.” You told him nervously. 

“Why? Because I’m the CEO of a distillery?” He teased you. “Darlin’ I was born in Kentucky and went to school in Texas. I’m a cowboy through and through. A diner don’t scare me.” 

You blushed. Why was he here? If word got back to your stepmom and sisters… You didn’t want to think about what they’d do. 

“I need to go.” 

Jack’s hand flashed out and gently took yours. “You have to work on a weekend?” He asked you worried, almost. Like he somehow knew that you worked too much or something. 

“No actually, I just… I don’t get weekends usually so I have stuff I wanted to get done is all.” You shrugged. It wasn’t a total lie, you did have things you wanted to do. Laundry, cleaning your apartment and grocery shopping. But mostly, you were afraid you were going to get caught with Jack Daniels and you didn’t need that drama in your life. You had enough with your family. 

Jack nodded at you. “I understand, can I at least walk you home?” He asked you as he stood with you.

“I-” You were cut off by your phone vibrating in your jeans pocket. “Son of a bitch… Sorry.” You muttered at him as you scowled at the screen. Seeing your stepmother’s name demanding you answer. 

“Yes?” You sighed as you reluctantly answered the phone. Trying to ignore the way Jack was staring at and studying you intently. 

“I need you to go upstate and buy pumpkins.” She responded on the other end of the phone. 

“Pumpkins? Why?” You asked her with a huff.

“Because it’s fall and I want the offices decorated.” You could practically hear her rolling her eyes at what she thought was a stupid question.

“Okay…” You sighed at her once more. “How many do you want me to get?” You asked her. 

“Fifty. I want the office completely decorated for the season.” She told you. “Oh also, maybe get some hay bales too.” 

“Fifty?!” You asked her, jaw dropping in shock. Where in the hell were you supposed to put them? Being New York, you didn’t even have a car. 

“Stop repeating everything I say and just get there and do it.” She snapped and hung up on you.

“Yes ma’am.” You muttered at your phone sarcastically and then tossed it into your purse aggressively. “Well now I do have to work Mr. Daniels.” You grumbled. 

“Kind of difficult to not overhear that conversation.” He admitted softly, almost like he felt sorry for you. “You okay?” He asked you gently. 

“Yeah, I’m great. I have to give up my Saturday, somehow get upstate. Buy fifty pumpkins in various sizes and some bales of hay and get them all back to the office.” You muttered. “Guess I’m renting a car for the day.” 

“Well, she’ll pay for that won’t she?” He asked you, deep down already knowing the answer but wanting to hear you confirm it. 

You snorted. “Yeah right. I practically run the company and I’m living in a shitty studio apartment.” 

Jack frowned at that. “Well then darlin’. I wouldn’t be a southern gentleman if I didn’t offer to help you. I’ve got my Bronco out front and the day off.” He rumbled in your ear. “And don’t you worry, they won’t find out you were helped.” He promised you as he led you outside to his truck. 

“Mr. Daniels I can’t… Ask you to do that.” You insisted as you chewed your bottom lip anxiously. 

“You didn’t ask. I offered. And please… Call me Jack.” He reminded you as he opened the passenger door for you. “Please, I want to help.” 

Honestly, the idea of spending any kind of time with this handsome and charming man was appealing. Plus, you really didn’t feel like spending any of your hard earned money on a rental for a day when you had a truck being offered to you. 

“Okay. Thank you… Jack.” You finally relented with a small, shy smile at him as you climbed up into the passenger seat of his truck. 

He released his gentle hold on your elbow and smiled at you. “You’re welcome darlin’.” He smiled at you as he moved to the driver’s side and started it up.

An hour later, Jack parked his truck in the gravel parking lot. 

“Damn, pumpkin patches sure have changed since I was a kid.” You muttered, taking in the expanse of acreage. An actual pumpkin patch, gift shop, a moonbounce, pony rides and a hay ride. 

Jack let out a whistle and casually tossed his arm over your shoulder. “You said it darlin’.” He agreed and led you to the patch. 

“Haven’t done this since I was a kid with my dad.” You murmured wistfully. 

Jack paused for a split second when you said that. “I’m so sorry.” He rubbed your arm gently. 

You shrugged. “It’s okay.” 

“How uh… How did he die?” He asked gently. 

You wiped a tear from your eye. “Got sick suddenly. Doctor’s couldn’t really explain it. First they thought it was the flu because I got sick too. But he uh… Didn’t make it.” 

“You both got the flu at the same time?” He asked you, brows furrowed in thought. 

“Wasn’t the flu. The only explanation the doctors had was food poisoning.” You mumbled as you both began wandering the patch together. 

“But he… Didn’t make it.” He finished the thought you were internalizing. 

“And I did.” You mused bitterly. 

“Hey now… I won’t have you thinkin’ that way. It ain’t your fault that you both got sick and you didn’t die. I, for one am glad you’re here.” 

Tears were falling down your cheeks now. “He was my best friend and now he’s just… Gone.” 

Quickly, Jack pulled you over to a set of hay bales and faced you. “Loss is never easy to deal with darlin’. But you don’t have to grieve alone.” He reassured you, thumbs gently rubbing the inside of your wrists. 

“You’ve met my stepmom and sisters… Right?” You asked him with a garbled laugh. 

“Look at you, makin’ jokes.” He grinned at you before he instinctively leaned forward to kiss your temple. 

You froze at the sweet gesture, surrounded by his overwhelming scent before you gave in and sank into his arms. For the first time in over a year, you felt safe with someone. Actually cared for. “Thank you… Jack.” You mumbled into his chest.

“Anytime darlin’.” He promised you. “Now… I do believe that we have pumpkins and hay bales to blow on, your stepmother’s money.” He teased you. 

You laughed again and nodded at him. “Yeah… Okay.” 

“Now, you dry your eyes. I’ll go get a wagon for all these pumpkins we have to buy.” 

You nodded and started to browse the pumpkins as Jack went to get a wagon to tote around. 

“Ginger, I need you to look into the medical records or her and her father. Somethin’s off here.” Jack said over the phone. 

“It is awfully convenient that they both got sick and in the hospital. While the father died.” She admitted on the other end of the phone. 

“Not to mention that the stepmom took control of the empire after he died and she was deathly ill in the hospital.” He growled out. 

“Easy there cowboy. Now that we’re here we’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again.” Ginger soothed him. “Now go back to your pumpkin date. I’ll look into this.” 

“Sorry about that darlin’. Was just informin’ Ginger that I wouldn’t be available the rest of the day.” He told you with a smile. 

“It’s okay.” You told him with a shy smile and placed two pumpkins in the wagon. 

The rest of the day proceeded with Jack dutifully toting the wagon around for you. Emptying it into his truck as it got full and they were paid. You bought hay bales, a scarecrow for the reception area and a bushel of apples. 

“You sure do love fall darlin’.” He teased you as you hopped into his truck and sighed. 

“I just... Figured since I was here, the apples are for baking and a couple of pumpkins for my place.” You blushed and shrugged.

It was after nine by the time Jack finally pulled back in front of your building. They had dropped off most of the supplies at the office. 

“Let me help you get this upstairs.” He insisted. “Otherwise you’re going to have to make two trips with this basket of apples and both your pumpkins.” 

“Jack I-” You started, not wanting him to do more for you than he already had. 

“Please… There’s somethin’ I feel like I need to tell you.” He explained to you gently. “Preferably upstairs and not on a New York street.” 

“Tell me… What?” You asked him anxiously. 

“It’s alright. Let’s just get upstairs.” He soothed you.

Nervously, you led the way into your small apartment and set your pumpkins down on your kitchen counter. “What… Uh… What’s going on?” You asked him.

Jack set the basket of apples down next to your pumpkins and placed his hand on your back. “Let’s sit down.” He suggested. 

“Jack I… What’s wrong?” You asked him, hands twisting together anxiously. 

“I’m not exactly the CEO of the Statesman distillery.” He told you simply, staring at you. 

“You’re… What?” You asked him, face scrunched up in confusion.

“Statesman is an independent intelligence agency and I work for them.” He explained to you. “I’m a spy.” 

“You’re a what?” You repeated to him. 

“I know this is difficult to absorb.” He explained to you. “I’m investigatin’ your stepmom’s dealin’ with the company.” 

“Oh so… You were spending time with me for a… Mission?” You asked him. 

“It started off like that, but… You’re very sweet and I’m lookin’ out for you.” He explained. “I’m tryin’ to help you. But I need your help too, if you’re willin’ to help me.” 

“Help you how?” You asked softly.

Jack moved closer to you. “I need someone inside the company, and you’re perfect.” 

You knew he meant for helping him but, him calling you perfect made you blush. “Perfect how?”

“Look, I don’t wanna pressure you into doin’ somethin’ without you thinkin’ or sleepin’ on it.” He explained softly, as he rubbed your wrists softly. “Why don’t you sleep on it and you call me tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, that might be best. I uh… Don’t want my family to find out about this.” You explained nervously. 

“I completely understand darlin’. You think on it, and let me know. Alright? No pressure, I promise.” 

You practically melted as he ran his knuckles gently along your cheekbone. You nodded at him and smiled shyly at him. “Okay.”

“Good night darlin’.” He murmured in your ear. 

“Good night Jack.” You returned as he finally departed your apartment and you considered his news and offer to you.

Tag list:

@absurdthirst, @spacegayofficial, @lilangeldevil006, @manda-but-not-lorian, @emmymarierivia, @din-djarin-protection-squad, @nope-itsnopi, @gothgirl1362-blog, @deafspaceperson, @auty-ren, @luminescentlily, @ahopelessromanticwritersworld, @babe-dont, @dreamgirl-6781-blog, @katialvi, @zoe-rachel-crisp, @cryptkeepersoul, @jaa1682-27, @katheriner1999, @promiscuoussatan, @paintballkid711, @marvelranger, @owljumper, @girlwithanewplan, @iellarenuodolorian, @lost-girl-inc, @f0rever15elf, @mrschiltoncat, @hillarymurray4, @seejayyou 

Sorry some of my tags aren’t fully working! XOXO

[robininthelabyrinth]

Three Gates - on ao3 (for content warnings check Ao3) - on tumblr: pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6, pt 7, pt 8, pt 9, pt 10, pt 11

- Chapter 12 -

The Nightless City was grand and glorious, as luxurious as Koi Tower and as tasteful as the Cloud Recesses, and Meng Yao would burn it all down in a heartbeat for the chance to return to the familiar sparse stone and metal of the Unclean Realm.

Wen Ruohan had forgiven him for murdering Wu Bixian and blowing his cover once Meng Yao had explained the circumstances, although he’d been displeased; Meng Yao had had to work his way back into his inner circle the hard way, inventing monstrous machines for him to use in his Fire Palace, where he played at treating torture the way other people viewed sport.

Meng Yao had once dreamed of torturing his enemies – initially defined as anyone who insulted his mother, but later expanded to include anyone who made a serious effort to harm Nie Mingjue and recently he had been considering an additional expansion to loop in the same for Lan Xichen – but now he realized that torture was boring and burdensome and messy, and a quick execution was clearly much more effective.

There was a lot less upkeep, for one.

A lot fewer tormented doctors as well – that poor Wen Qing would probably have never picked up her needles if she’d known this was where she was going to end up using them, that was for sure – and anyway, neither of his lovers would have approved so it was all a moot point anyway.

Possibly former lovers.

Not that they’d ever actually made it to the stage of being lovers, what with Lan Xichen’s sect rules and parental trauma, Meng Yao’s nightmares of the brothel, and Nie Mingjue’s experiences with Wen Ruohan…

Probably for the best, actually, given what Meng Yao now knew about Nie Mingjue – something that he was almost certain that Nie Mingjue did not know about himself.

A few months at Wen Ruohan’s side had certainly been enlightening on that front. As Meng Yao might’ve suspected, he treated even the people in his clan about the same as wooden furniture, useful to varying degrees but all ultimately disposable, and someone like Meng Yao, a talented retainer he’d stolen from another sect and who had no way out, made for amusing company.

Wen Ruohan had in fact heard the rumor of someone in the Nie sect being born as a yang furnace, very likely from Wu Bixian himself in an attempt to get rid of what he perceived to be a stain on the sect’s reputation, and he’d investigated, ultimately figuring out that the person in question was Nie Mingjue. A yang furnace, Meng Yao learned, was considerably rarer than a yin furnace, requiring the right horoscope and lucky (or unlucky) parentage, and was considered far more precious – people with that constitution would have an incredible talent for cultivation themselves, but would also be able to magnify, many times over, the cultivation or even cultivation potential of those with whom they engaged in dual cultivation.

The furnace’s consent in the matter was not required.

After discovering the truth, Wen Ruohan had apparently gone back and forth for some time in deciding whether to snatch him up immediately, training him up as a concubine reserved for the use of the Wen clan, but one of his more esoteric specialists had told him that the sort of intense cultivation techniques he had in mind would likely kill a child and, more importantly, that the positive effect on his own cultivation would be magnified if Nie Mingjue’s cultivation were higher when he began.

“Sect Leader Wen’s patience is admirable,” Meng Yao said with the sort of smile he’d worn when talking to the brothel owner that used to beat his mother on a regular basis just so she’d ‘remember her place’. “If only I had known..! I am not so certain I could resist such a temptation for years on end.”

Wen Ruohan laughed. “Well, I must admit I gave it a half-hearted effort a few times. The doctors did say that a few times early on wouldn’t hurt.”

By hurt he meant damage to Nie Mingjue’s ability to cultivate, or to cultivate with others, not to the lifetime of nightmares and terror that Nie Mingjue suffered as a result of his unrelenting pursuit.

“Though on that subject,” Wen Ruohan continued, a faint smile on his face, “perhaps you’d like to take a look at the room I’ve prepared for him, and let me know if you have any suggestions – anything you think he’d enjoy for the times when he’s not – in service.”

“Of course, Sect Leader Wen.”

“Naturally, if you also have any proposals regarding any of your marvelous machines…”

“Naturally, Sect Leader Wen.”

“Good,” Wen Ruohan praised. “If you please me well enough, perhaps I’ll let you take a turn once I’m done with him.”

He had other requests, too, which were even less savory – mostly storytelling, Meng Yao casting his mind back to his days at the brothel and even in desperation some of the artwork Nie Huaisang insisted on collecting to describe all sorts of scenarios for Wen Ruohan’s evident enjoyment.

Meng Yao took a bath as often as he could plausibly manage it, and still felt unclean.

(Chiwen, hidden away as best as he could in the room he’d been assigned because a Nie saber did not voluntarily enter Wen hands, screamed in his head. He hated everything about what they were doing.)

It was amazing, Meng Yao thought, how far self-deception could go: he had thought, once, that he would be able to distract and dissuade Wen Ruohan without losing anything along the way, that he could sell himself without counting the cost, and at the last he realized that his mother had been right about warning him not to get used to making deals with bad men.

Wu Bixian, too. He had thought that Wen Ruohan’s goal was domination of the cultivation world, his pursuit of Nie Mingjue only a means to get there or at best a distraction, when in fact Wen Ruohan wanted to be a god, to break through the barrier of cultivation and rise up to the heavens, and he believed that Nie Mingjue could get him there.

And yet Wen Ruohan, too, was deceived – he thought that everything in the world was meaningless grist to that great ambition’s mill, thought that everything he did was for power and power only. And yet there was the great care and attention with which he had filled the prison room in the Nightless City with all the things Nie Mingjue liked, things that he’d figured out from casual mentions in discussion conferences, the fascination in his eyes when Meng Yao told him stories that were sometimes so very boring and mundane, the casual way he dismissed even his own heir’s death at Nie Mingjue’s hands…

Perhaps the interest had been merely practical once, but it certainly was no longer.

At least the war was going well.

Not much else was.

His letters with Wen Ruohan had been belatedly discovered and publicized, his betrayal becoming widely known – Wen Ruohan deliberately cutting off Meng Yao’s route of return, no doubt. The fact that it was a good move, and one Meng Yao would have done if he were in his place, did not make it any easier to swallow.

He had always assumed he would be there to explain the letters to Nie Mingjue.

He’d said so many cruel things in those letters over the years, hurtful things, things he didn’t believe but thought that Wen Ruohan would like to hear – things about Lao Nie, about Nie Mingjue, about Baxia, about Nie Huaisang…disdainful, wretched things, lies that had flowed so easily out of his brush when he’d thought it was all a game.

He didn’t want to think about Nie Mingjue hearing them – seeing them – reading them –

He didn’t want Nie Mingjue to think that was how he really felt.

Some days, in the middle of the night in the too-brightly-lit core of the Nightless City, Meng Yao put his head in his hands and felt the prickle of tears in his eyes. He should have known better, he thought. He shouldn’t have tried to take it all on his own shoulders; he shouldn’t have assumed he’d be able to explain, that he could swear on Chiwen that his motives were pure and that all would be easily forgiven; he should have told Nie Mingjue what he was doing early on so that it would not come to him as a surprise –

He should not have repeated his mother’s mistake from all those years ago.

(“They don’t trust us!” Lao Nie had shouted, his voice still audible behind those stone walls, and Nie Mingjue had gone silent, the words hitting their mark and leaving a wound, before he’d started arguing once again.)

Meng Yao had originally planned on having both Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen act as his contacts during the war, but instead for his sins he got stone-faced Lan Wangji and, eventually, red-eyed Wei Wuxian, who was clearly still deeply shaken by the near-destruction of the Lotus Pier and how close he had come to losing everyone he loved.

(Meng Yao killed time in between boring torture, nauseating dinners with Wen Ruohan, and interacting with his two contacts in trying to figure out how to get said contacts to confess their obvious attraction to each other without ever actually telling them to their face that they were being idiots.

How anyone had ever compared him to Wei Wuxian – citing their status as fatherless children being raised by sect leaders alongside their heirs – he honestly did not know; the boy had a genius for cultivating and the arrogance to go with it, but simply no common sense whatsoever. Meng Yao was his exact opposite.)

They had both briefly been guests of the Wen sect, brought in by the same invitation that had been forcefully extended to Nie Huaisang; once they were there, they were given to Wen Chao to lead and reshape. Obviously that went about as badly as anyone could imagine, Wen Chao being what he was.

Nie Huaisang had been there too, of course, and Meng Yao hadn’t dared go anywhere near him. It wasn’t that he doubted his own acting abilities, or Nie Huaisang’s for that matter, but rather his own perception. Nie Huaisang was a very good liar, and if Meng Yao got it into his head that his own blood brother didn’t believe him, he might very well fall apart.

So he didn’t go.

That turned out to be a mistake.

Apparently, not showing up was seen as some sort – admission of guilt, perhaps, because the second Nie Huaisang returned to the Unclean Realm, things started going very badly indeed. Many of his old contacts stopped talking to him or even disappeared, even the ones he would have sworn Nie Huaisang had no knowledge of, and he didn’t even want to think about how many of his plans ran into obstacles that had nothing to do with luck and had everything to do with Nie Huaisang’s Nie temper.

Meng Yao only hoped that the cause of the temper tantrum was his failure to apologize for not letting Nie Huaisang properly into his schemes, and not that Nie Huaisang thought –

Surely Nie Huaisang would have said something to Wei Wuxian or Lan Wangji if he didn’t believe Meng Yao to be trustworthy? They were peers, had been schoolmates, and a few months together was more than enough time for Nie Huaisang to get the measure of them – he had to know what they were doing on his behalf, surely, and he hadn’t stopped them, so…

Sometimes Meng Yao thought that his circular rationalizations would drive him mad, long before anything else about this horrible life of his did.

(He also thought, sometimes, about how his mother would feel – how she did feel – about what he was doing, and whether she approved or not. He usually tried to stop thinking about it as soon as possible.)

At any rate, the sect heirs had all escaped after some unfortunate encounter with a corrupted Xuanwu that made Meng Yao twitch in fear when he belatedly learned about it, and soon after that the war began in earnest.

The Nie sect took Heijian, as had always been the plan; the Wen sect’s cultivators threw themselves against their iron wall without any success and even some heavy losses, especially whenever Nie Mingjue himself there to lead battles. The Lan sect was scattered after the burning of the Cloud Recesses, but Lan Wangji’s early warning had preserved more of their lives than might have otherwise been accounted for – the attack on the Lotus Pier had been similarly blunted through timely advice, although Jiang Fengmian’s stubborn refusal to take immediate action had resulted in injuries, some rather serious.

Two major attacks, in under a year – the rest of the cultivation world was alarmed. A sizeable number chosen to give in at once, while others opted to join the opposing forces, and war was everywhere.

Meng Yao had hoped that his information would be enough to tip the balance, that he could play the same role he’d played against Wen Ruohan in the past – acting as an interruption, but never quite tipping his hand. Never pushing for the real reward, taking the big risk…

The war dragged on.

There were some close calls – some difficult battles. People were dying on both sides. Several times there were reports of terrible injury to key people; the death of someone he loved was only a matter of time.

It seemed that he didn’t have a choice but to take more dramatic action.

Evil, Chiwen screamed in his mind, just as he had every day since Meng Yao had arrived at this horrible place. Kill it!

Meng Yao wished it was so easy.

“Do you mind if I borrow your brother?” he asked Wen Qing, who glared at him but accepted the jar of wine he offered her. “Just for a while.”

“None of your machines,” she said at once. He couldn’t blame her.

“No machines,” he agreed. “I need a courier.”

She paused, then put the wine down. “Out of the Nightless City? Safely?”

He smiled.

Wen Ning was delighted to see Wei Wuxian, and the feeling was decidedly mutual – Meng Yao had picked Wen Ning in part because of the extraordinary initiative he had taken at the Lotus Pier, initiative that made the entire Jiang clan quite fond of him – and Wei Wuxian happily agreed to smuggle Wen Ning out of Qishan to deliver a private message.

“Make sure he gets to Lan Xichen,” Meng Yao instructed. “A message can be compromised or lost – a person, not so easily.”

“I’ll do my best,” Wei Wuxian said, and almost looked approving, like he thought that Meng Yao was doing this to save Wen Ning from the worst of the war.

He had no idea what Meng Yao was doing.

“Wei Wuxian,” Meng Yao said when they were about to leave. “What does Lan Xichen say about me?”

A blink, there and gone. “He fears for your safety, and hopes you are well.”

“And – Nie Mingjue?”

He didn’t bother asking about Nie Huaisang. If his brother didn’t want someone to know how he felt, no one would ever have the slightest clue.

Wei Wuxian hesitated, and Meng Yao waited, and in the end Wei Wuxian finally said, “I don’t think I’ve heard him say anything about you at all.”

Meng Yao nodded. It was no less than he’d expected, for all that it felt as if his heart were shattering. “Thank you. Please go.”

Wei Wuxian would take Wen Ning to Lan Xichen, and Lan Xichen would believe the words of a person more than he believed a letter – it was his nature to do so, especially when that person was as serious and earnest as Wen Ning, who seemed so trustworthy and who would never knowingly tell a lie.

But a person who would never knowingly tell a lie could still be made to carry one, and so Lan Xichen would listen to Wen Ning, and he would take what Wen Ning told him to Nie Mingjue, and Nie Mingjue – who might have questioned information brought by Wen Ning but who would never question Lan Xichen, the way he had previously never questioned Meng Yao – Nie Mingjue would listen, and believe, and act on that belief.

He would go to Yangquang –

And Wen Ruohan would be waiting for him.

Sometimes Meng Yao hated himself.

[lilmissmousey]

Hi there.

It’s been awhile.

Denial Chapter 7 is live 💖 love you all

Denial Chapter 7

Vegeta stared with disdain at the flight of stairs in front of him. Hip throbbing, head aching, temper boiling, he attempted to rise from the front passengers seat of Bulma’s black SUV only to be engulfed in a blinding fire of pain.

“What’re you doing?!” Bulma’s hand gripped Vegetas shoulder, “You goon! You can’t be walking right now! Your hip is broken!”

“Watch. Me.” He growled, brushing her fingers off.

Bulma massaged her temples, “For the love of God. Let me get the crutches out of the back at least!”

“I will NOT be caught dead with crutches! I will snap them in half! I can do it my-“

“Hi ya buddy!”

Oh. Oh no. Vegeta knew that obnoxious, chipper voice.

Beaming down at him with a huge smile from the open car door, arm up and casually leaning on the roof was Goku, “Ya missed our match this morning! Just wanted to see...hey, what happened to you?!”

“It...” Vegeta mumbled, “it was nothing. Just a little run in with a car.”

Goku’s dark eyes grew large, “A car?”

“Nothing?!” Bulma’s head popped into view from beside Vegeta, “You got HIT by a car!”

Goku blinked, “Who’re you?”

“It wasn’t that bad.” Vegeta could feel his cheeks starting to burn hot.

“Not that bad?!” Bulma shrieked, “you were unconscious for hours! You have a concussion! And a fractured hip!”

“A minor inconvenience.”

“You almost died!”

“Says who?”

The man outside the SUV watched with great confusion. Vegeta got hit by a car? There had been a blurb on the news the other night about it, but they hadn’t released a name. Only the vehicle description. Goku felt terrible he hadn’t known sooner. Vegeta was his buddy. He also could have sworn he recognized the blue haired woman in the drivers seat from somewhere...

“Aha!” Goku proclaimed, snapping his fingers loudly.

Both Vegeta and Bulma’s mouth snapped shut, their eyes both now focused on Goku.

“You’re the girl from Vegeta’s phone!” Goku grinned, “The girl on the wallpaper! It’s nice to meet ya! I’m Goku. Vegetas ju jitsu partner!” His large hand shoved itself past Vegetas nose to shake Bulma’s hand which she offered, “man, he sure talks about ya a whole lot! And with how much he doesn’t talk that’s sure saying something!”

“Kakarot...” Vegeta hissed, ignoring Bulma’s smug smile.

“Well, I think you and I are going to get a long just fine!” Bulma laughed, giving Gokus hand a last squeeze before Vegeta batted it away from in front of his face.

“Man, I’m sorry to hear about the accident!” Goku scratched his chin, “I tried callin’ ya yesterday to make sure of the plans, but ya never answered. Makes sense now.”

Vegeta inhaled sharply, “Ah shit.” His phone. He never even realized it was gone.

“Oh no,” Bulma sighed, “Vegeta, you lost your phone? I’m so sorry.”

“It’s just a phone,” he mumbled, “I’ll buy another.”

“Already done.” Bulma finished typing something on her phone screen and shoved it back in her purse, “I ordered you another, I’ll have someone drop it off this afternoon.”

Suddenly, as if a wave came over him, Vegeta felt to tired to argue. The world shifted on its axis, causing a rippling wave of nausea. He winced, adjusting his hip as the pain radiated, “Thanks.” He muttered.

“Hey, you okay buddy?” Goku crouched down, eyes full of worry, “What can I do?”

From inside Bulma’s heart, a warmth began to tug. This Goku guy was very kind, “We need to get him inside,” she said gently, blue eyes meeting Goku’s black, “But he’s not supposed to walk very much. He has crutches, but is refusing to use them.”

Goku’s brows furrowed, “Aw man. I just came from ‘Geets apartment. The elevators broken.”

Heaving a sigh, Vegeta cracked one eye open, willing the world to stop spinning as he met the worried gaze of his best friend. Hades be damned if he ever admitted it, but in his own heart he knew it to be true. He was well aware Goku felt that way about him as he expressed his feelings openly and without abandon, and never once forced Vegeta to say it in return. It was unwritten, but wholly understood between them, “Kakarot, I’m going to ask you the most embarrassing question of my life.” He winced.

That look of determination Goku got before every match suddenly spread across his face “What’s that?”

~~~

“Okay bud, only about ten steps left.” Goku carefully readjusted his arm beneath Vegetas left armpit, gripping the right hand a little tighter that was slung over his shoulder. Every step the took, Goku would lift Vegetas entire body off the ground, gently placing him right foot down on the next step. It had taken over a half hour and a lot of swear words from Vegeta, but they finally reached the apartment. Bulma unlocked the door, opening it wide enough for both men to fit through. As they finally crested the threshold Vegeta grunted, and quickly tightened his grip meaningfully on Gokus hand, being careful to not meet the larger mans eyes. He could feel the gentle stare though, see the sincere smile out of the corner of his eye. Goku squeezed back and said warmly, “Anytime.”

“Mph.” Vegeta looked away. Goku chuckled.

Bulma’s head popped out from Vegetas bedroom, “Let’s get him laying down in here.”

“Got it!” Goku grinned, then turned his head “Hey,” he whispered in Vegetas ear, “at least ya got a cute nurse outta the deal.”

“Shut. Up.” Vegeta hissed.

“Hey,” Goku shrugged, “it’s better than a picture, ain’t it?”

Vegeta clenched his jaw. A picture; his picture. It was gone. In all honesty, he was more upset about that than the phone. Hopefully it had been saved somehow.

After another round of swear words, Vegetas leg was propped up with pillows, at least relieving some of the pain. Bulma flitted around, gathering water and snacks as well as sorting out Vegetas pain pills in the kitchen as Goku sat on the edge of Vegetas bed and asked questions about the accident.

“I’m telling you, it was intentional.” Vegeta muttered, sipping at the glass of ice water Bulma had already placed on the side of the bed, “just a gut feeling.”

Face propped in his hand, dark brows pulled together, Goku drummed his fingers on his cheek, “Who though? And why her? She seems awful nice.”

Vegetas eyes darted to the door to make sure Bulma wasn’t eavesdropping, “Not sure. It could be anyone. She has a position of power in her company, and the smarts and money to go with it. There are a few nasty lawsuits floating around. I’ll have to take a look when I get the chance.”

“Hm.” Goku stood, stretching his back, “Well, I still have a few contacts out there. Old friends,” he shot an uncharacteristically dark smirk at Vegeta, “I’ll see what I can find.”

Vegetas eyes narrowed, “Don’t go digging to much Kakarot. You don’t need to get involved. We’ve both been out a long time. You’ve got a clean record. You’ve got the wife and kid to worry about.”

“Eh, Chichi won’t mind.” Goku shrugged, “She can’t mind if she doesn’t know anyways. I was never really a part of them in the first place. No one, and I mean no one, hurts my friends.” There was a sharp edge on the end of that sentence that made Vegetas fist clench into the blanket, a small and familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through him.

Goku’s normally chipper facade seemed to falter for a minute, a glint in his eyes, “Just like the old days. I got you. And you got me.” Just as quickly as the tense air in the room was there, it was immediately sucked out again, and Goku’s grin returned, “Anyways, fell better buddy! Call me when you get your new phone!” With a roll of his neck, and with his signature wave, Goku was out the door.

Vegeta let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He knew that look. He knew that Goku. That was the Goku most people had never met. He hadn’t see that look in a long, long time.

I got you. And you got me. The words repeated in Vegetas head, memories of them as young teens racing through back alleys, those same words being laughed as Goku and he managed to get away from whatever trouble they were involved in. “What have I done.” Vegeta muttered, eyes pinching closed as another wave of nausea ran through him.

“You alright?”

“Just...a headache still,” He grumbled, Bulma’s cool fingers dancing across his forehead.

“I’ll get you your medicine.” She whispered, “I’ll shut the blind too. The light may be hurting your eyes.”

Vegeta grunted, “I don’t need the pills. I just need some sleep.”

Bulma sighed, the sounds of the blind hitting the window sill echoing like a bomb in his ears, “Stop trying to be tough, it’s alright. You got hit by a car. You’re allowed some pain relief.” He could hear her shuffling around the room. Everything was so overwhelming. He wished this would stop.

Another wave of head pain, “I just need you.” The words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them, his eyes still sensitive from the concussion pain snapped open to see if she’d heard.

But she wasn’t there.

“Did you say something?” Bulma’s called from the kitchen, “sorry, I was grabbing you some more water and the pain pills. I really think you should take them.”

Vegeta sighed, half relieved, half disappointed, “Whatever.”

[cotncandyboifics]

1989 [High School AU]: Chapter 8

AO3 Link

Masterpost

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6 ~ Chapter 7 ~ Chapter 9 ~

Pairings: slight Logince, eventual Prinxiety & Logicality

Word count: 2,407

Story summary: Roman Prince is your stereotypical Jock, with everyone swooning after him. Every day a crowd of people follow him around, only to disperse at his personal whim. In reality, he's lucky to have such good acting skills that help him cover up the disdain he has for his life. He only wishes he could use his skills properly.

Patton Whitelock's always there to lend a helping hand, no matter who you are. If you need a favor or just need someone to talk to, go to him. In reality, he's been taught from a young age that kindness should be held above all else. No one suspects that he took it the wrong way.

Logan Montgomery is the smartest boy in the Senior class. He's stern, and most people are too intimidated to speak to him. In reality, he despises most all of his fellow students. He sticks to his studies and doesn't stray, for fear of being stuck in his father's shadow his whole life.

Virgil Black is the most emo kid in school, let alone 12th grade; everyone knows to leave him be. In reality, he's very fortunate. He has two parents who love him dearly. But everything beyond his life, everything within his mind, is utter chaos and turmoil.

what will happen when they're assigned a biology project together?

General CW: food, swearing, implied s-lf h-rm, non-graphic descriptions of s-lf h-rm scars, graphic and non-graphic descriptions of anxiety attacks and panic attacks, drug abuse, minor character intoxicated on heroin, non-graphic drug overdose description, sickness/description of sickness, blood, non-graphic descriptions of needles, (will be added to as I write more)

Chapter CW: food, (let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author notes: alternate title: Virgil's very subtle epiphany. also Patton has a gay panic moment lol

...

Slam.

Monday morning. Mr. Berry was slapping a small poster on each student's desk like a stamp, one-by-one and painfully slowly.

"This," he began, "Is the official welcome to the schoolyear; audition posters for the Fall Talent Show." His bloated belly hardly fit between the desk rows, and students made futile attempts to scoot away from him before they were bombarded by his tyrannical tummy. "As a retired thespian and a life long supporter of theatre and the arts," he continued, bringing his pile of posters to his chest in his passion, "I highly recommend you at least consider looking into auditions. Everyone has a passion, or at least a hobby, and the talent show is a perfect freelance opportunity to show off your skills."

Roman rolled his eyes too dramatically. This was upsetting him more than he thought it would, and his eyes shot daggers up at his large superior as he slammed the next poster onto Roman's desk.

"Auditions will be held next week, on the specified dates. The show itself will be two weeks later, I believe on Friday night. Be there, and I will award you some extra credit points. All you must do is present me with your ticket, which must have your name on it," he eyed a few mischievous students in the room, "With a stamp on it from the Talent Show admissions booth, on the following Monday." As soon as Mr. Berry had given a poster to Virgil and moved on, Virgil quietly crumpled it and shoved it into a random part of his backpack, proceeding to fold his arms on his desk and put his head down. This caught Roman's attention, and his subconscious latched onto formulating a teasing remark for after class as a distraction from his own feelings about the Talent Show.

After class, the usual place where Roman and Virgil were shortly alone and had a short interaction - most often consisting of some insufferable tease from Roman or occasionally a debate spurred by Virgil making a witty side comment - the two met once again. After their first class of the day was usually the only time they were both at their lockers at the same time, as it happened, and Virgil was always thankful that it was the only time. Since their assignment to the Biology project, however, Roman had taken to walking with Virgil from their English class to their lockers and beginning his bouts of banter prematurely.

"Not a fan of the infamous talent show, are we?" Roman paced quickly over to Virgil, who had just made it outside the classroom door as they'd been dismissed. Virgil huffed in defeat as his attempt to escape before Roman could catch him had been fruitless.

"It's ridiculous," Virgil didn't slow his pace for Roman, and began essentially speedwalking down the hall. Roman was slightly taller than him and was able to keep up, but still got a little out of breath doing it. "Hey everyone, come and show everyone in the school something you really enjoy so they can all collectively judge you and make you self conscious about your interests and - oh no! you don't wanna do it anymore because you feel horribly inadequate? shoooot. Sorry man, no one could have seen that coming. Oh well, better luck next year when you'll just ruin a different passion for yourself!" Virgil flailed his hands at the end of his mini-rant.

"How can you stay that sarcastic for that long consecutively? I'm honestly impressed," Roman said, huffing as they arrived at their lockers. Virgil's permanent frown seemed to somehow deepen. "Though, I guess I really can't argue, Count Woe-laf. I see your point. The pressures of an impromptu performance are... undeniable." Roman focused his attention on the padlock hanging from the latch of his locker, while Virgil looked to him with widened eyes.

"Really?" He didn't look away from Roman until he would look back.

"What?" Roman defended.

"It's just..." Virgil focused on his own padlock now, "You never agree with what I say. It always becomes a debate," he pulled his locker open lazily, pulling his backpack off his shoulders and putting it on backwards so that he could more easily exchange things. When Roman didn't reply, he continued, "like... I don't know. Why is it any different now?"

Roman was exchanging things as well, and didn't have an immediate answer. Well, he knew the answer (or in this case, answers), but it wasn't one he was even ready to admit to himself, let alone anyone else, and especially let alone Virgil. He just eventually shrugged.

This reaction only further alarmed Virgil. He opened his mouth to continue his flabbergasted interrogation, but the bell rang right at that moment. Roman slammed his locker shut suddenly.

"Well, that's our queue I suppose. See you tonight, Incredible Sulk." Roman elbowed Virgil in the shoulder a bit awkwardly and began skipping down the hall to his next class. That left a dumbfounded and nearly-panicking Virgil standing in front of his open locker in an almost completely empty hall.

He wished Roman would stop leaving him like that.

...

Roman had texted the Biology Project group chat that weekend, saying he had an important football practice on Monday that went until 5. they'd have to have their meet-up at Roman's a bit later in the evening. Logan simply waited it out by heading to the school library to get his other homework done, while Patton and Virgil shot the breeze, walking down random hallways of the school.

The two of them were grabbing a snack from a vending machine when Virgil checked his phone. It was 4:50. They got their respective snacks - Patton got a strawberry Pop tart and Virgil got a Sunny D - and made their way to the designated meeting place. It was a concrete bench at the front of the school. They expected to find Logan there, but he wasn't. The two of them simply sat on the cold bench and exchanged bits of each other's snacks, and continued talking until Virgil noticed someone approaching.

He figured it would be Logan, but this person was shorter and more filled out than Logan. He trained his eyes better and realized that it was Roman. Roman, who happened to have a towel around his neck and sopping-wet crimson curly hair unabashedly on display. A drip of water rolled down his cheek and along his jawline, and Virgil realized he was staring. Roman finally got within conversation distance.

"Like what you see, Charlie Frown?" He teased. Patton looked to Virgil, noticing his awe, and giggled.

"Hah, in your dreams, Meta Knight," Virgil deflected half-heartedly, still finding it hard to pull his eyes away from Roman's unfortunate perfection. It was only worse that Roman knew just how attractive he was.

"Why's your hair all wet, silly?" Patton asked, standing energetically to greet him.

"We rinse off after practice. I considered leaving my shirt off so i could just get a clean one when i got home, but i knew that might be a bit too much to handle for some of us," Roman elbow-nudged Patton, who just giggled again and pushed his glasses up. Virgil knew that was extremely forced, especially after their conversation on Friday.

"Well," Roman checked his wristwatch, "Where would my nerdy Wolverine happen to be? It's ten past, and if there's anything Logan certainly is, it's punctual."

"Quite right you are," a stern voice came from behind them, to reveal Logan's lengthy form approaching casually. "My apologies for my tardiness. I got quite engaged in a particular Physics problem." Roman turned to him smiling, and pecked him on the cheek. Virgil didn't need to look at Patton to feel his friend's heart sink through the floor.

"Shall we then?" Roman turned to lead the way on the five-block journey to his house.

...

"hmm, that reminds me," Roman said from his sprawled position on his bed, "what are all your sexualities?"

That sure caught everyone's attention. The clock beside Roman's bed read 6:28 PM. Logan was studying their plants and taking notes, Patton had been cooing quietly to Roman's pet turtle, and Virgil was sitting in Roman's spinning desk chair scrolling on his phone. They all looked at Roman at once, and then at each other.

"Heh," Roman sat up, "My apologies for blurting such an intrusive question, I was just looking up at my-" he gestured toward his ceiling- "glorious flag, and it made me wonder. No man must answer that which he does not desire to." Roman was blatantly referring to the Bisexual flag that was pinned to the ceiling above his bed. They all looked at it, and back at him. "I suppose it's obvious now, but yes, I am undeniably bisexual," He faux bowed.

The silence wasn't doing anyone good, so Patton broke it before it got too much more awkward. "I, I'm gay," he said sheepishly, continuing to observe the turtle. Virgil gave him a soft smile, and decided to offer himself up next.

"I'm pan," he seemed to recoil further into his hoodie, if that were even possible. Logan turned to the other three, adjusting his necktie.

"I'm not usually one to admit this to many people, but since you have all been so transparent and calm about such personal information," He started, "I am comfortable telling you that I am Asexual."

No one regarded this with much surprise, except for Roman. "Oh really?" He said, seemingly surprised and embarrassed. Virgil scoff-laughed at him.

"What, upset you can't make your sexual fantasies a reality?" Virgil teased. Roman gasped, bringing a hand to his chest in an offended gesture.

"Excuse me!" He exclaimed, a look of disgust contorting his face.

Before a classic Roman-Virgil debate could ensue, Patton decided to share his thoughts.

"Well, I, I mean, I'm not ace but I, I guess sex isn't really so important to me," he was fiddling with his ring yet again.

"W-well, it should never be the centerpiece of any relationship!" Roman declared. They all looked at him skeptically. "what? I mean, personally, I prefer grand gestures." As he spoke, he stood and walked to Logan. "In my opinion," he produced a pristine bouquet of deep red roses that none of the others had noticed anywhere in the room before, "they are the key to any person's heart."

Logan seemed tame, Patton thought. As if he were performing. If he were being his normal self, he would have been very confused by where Roman had hidden the bouquet, and how it looked so perfect after being concealed. Instead, he just took it with a very gentle sweet smile, and thanked him quietly. Instead of Logan, Patton was now the one confused.

Virgil's face was red, and his neck a blotchy pink; thankfully he was mostly hidden under his purple bangs and hood. He huffed and excused himself to use the restroom. Patton noticed this time, and grabbed his arm before he made it out of the room.

"You okay?" he whispered gently to Virgil. Virgil just looked at him, mustered a small smile and a nod. Patton knew exactly what that meant. Virgil was okay, he just needed a moment. He returned the smile, and released his gentle paternal grip on Virgil's arm, allowing him to leave.

There was the sound of someone calling Roman's name from another part of the house, and Roman excused himself, rushing off to find its source.

Logan slipped his phone into the pocket of his navy slacks. "Well, I must be going now," He began. Instead of reaching to gather his things, he trained his acute attention directly on Patton, who was startled by the sudden focus on him. "Patton, do you have a ride home today?"

"I, uh, well," He tried blurting out an excuse but none came to his mind. "No, not exactly..."

Logan was slowly approaching, and Patton tried to back up but hit the terrarium containing Roman's turtle after just one small step. "Would you like a ride? My parents would be more than happy to assist in your safe transport home."

"Well, well I really don't want to intrude, or-" He stopped dead when Logan placed a slender hand gently on his shoulder.

"I insist. It's no intrusion or burden to them. They appreciate being able to help others when they can, especially people whose company I enjoy." Logan didn't feel as though he was figuratively lying through his teeth, but he knew that his parents didn't exactly feel that way. The nature of the situation was more that they took kindly to those that Logan worked well with on academically related subjects, such as people from his study group or the like.

Patton caught himself before letting the thought "you enjoy my company?" escape his lips. He just smiled. He knew there was no way he could get himself to deny Logan's offer when his heart was taking the reins.

"I would.. really appreciate, a ride home, yeah," He said quietly. Logan was just looking into his eyes with a tenderness Patton hadn't seen before. He pushed away any thoughts that Logan may have looked at Roman the exact same way during their date. He hoped he hadn't, and cursed himself for hoping it.

"Wonderful," Logan pulled himself out of their shared momentary trance. "I will let them know. I'm sure they will find it a pleasure to become acquainted with you. They should be here in less than five minutes, so I suggest gathering your belongings." Logan's thumbs padded across is illuminated phone screen as he spoke, until he once again slid it into his pocket and began collecting his things along with Patton.

Virgil entered once again, hood off and face slightly red and wet. it was clear that he hadn't been crying due to the sporadic nature of the droplets of water across his face; it looked more like he'd just haphazardly washed his face in the sink and hadn't bothered to wipe the remnants away. Patton smiled at him brightly.

"Ah, Virgil," Logan addressed as he slung his bag over his shoulder, "It was pleasant to see you again. We are on our way out now. Are you ready, Patton?" He looked to Patton, who also slung his bag over his shoulder.

"Yep! Logan's giving me a ride," Patton blatantly could barely contain his excitement in his ever-growing grin, so Virgil only returned it with a small thumbs up.

"Alright, ill see you guys in class tomorrow," He hugged Patton tightly, and half-heartedly saluted to Logan without making eye contact. Logan simply nodded to him, and the two left shortly, leaving Virgil alone in Roman's room.

[outerbankslut]

Sorry... Pope Heyward

Summary • After a fight between the Kooks and the Pogues you go to your friends to apologise but Pope’s not having it.

Warnings • Swearing? Maybe but I can’t remember and I cba to go back through. Mentions of violence (in the fight). If there’s anything else let me know :) JJ smoking as usual.

Word Count • 1.7k (Imagine)

Masterlist

(GIF isn’t mine, let me know if it’s yours)

    THE NOISES OF the cars engine knocked you out of your daze as you drove down the paved, sweltering streets of outer banks. The houses you passed a second ago were filled with perfectly trimmed bushes, the building decked in marble and stone with backyards for miles and a pool to finish it off. Whereas the houses you passed now were smaller and wooden, looking fragile almost. Lots of the yards were messier and lazier but they didn't have personal gardeners or the time nor money to do it themselves generally. It made your heart clench as you thought about how just a mile back you were living luxuriously while people over here slaved away to earn everything they owned. They weren't handed it like you were.

You were on your way to the cut to see your friends. But not for a casual hangout. You needed to see if they were okay. After the events of the night before you couldn't be sure what happened after you left.

Rafe has been involved in a fight between all the Pogues including you. No surprise there. He’d been the instigator of it all. It had broken out just you were all planning to leave and then the Cameron boy and the rest of his country club friends came over and joined in somehow finding fun in hitting and punching people due to the entitlement blinding their eyes from the truth that they were the same. Well maybe not personality wise in any way at all. But you were all human beings and yet you were pitted against each other from the day you were born. Only some succumbed to the amounting pressure of their kook or pogue parents to stay away from the other side others realised how petty and stupid it was.

It was always like a scene from west side story when the two groups were mixed and it never ended well. It usually left you to pick up the pieces of their messes. Or any mess of your brothers really. It had always been you. You taking responsibility for anything he did. Whilst he would go disappear and sniff a few lines before making his triumphant return you would be mending what he broke or taking the blame. Being younger than him didn't help with him manipulating you as a child. Rafe broke a vase and suddenly you broke the vase. Rafe stole money from dad since he blew his allowance on coke and alcohol and instead you stole the money. It had always been that way and by now you were used to being left in the wake of your brothers tyranny.

You always felt responsible no matter what happened. The events of last night where stuck in your mind like super glue and the guilt was filling up your lungs. It wasn't your fault. But at the same time it was. You didn't stop your brother, you let your friends get hurt by him. And they must hate you. Probably wish you'd never been let into their group.

The tires of your car screeched to a halt beside the Twinkie which occupied the space outside of the chateau. It was eerily quiet until you stepped out onto the grassy and muddy ground and heard muffled laughter from inside the wooden walls of the small fish shack. You could smell the after effects of a joint wafting through the air. No doubt it was JJ.

Once you entered the chateau the small creak of the screen door was enough to gain the attention of all the Pogues who glanced up at your presence. Only then did you see what was leftover from the fight last night. Kie looked at you with a small smile but you could see the light grazing on her cheeks and her hands that held the wooden neck of a ukulele. But yet she still seemed happy to see you. And then JJ who sent you a lazy smile as he inhaled more of the joint between his bruised knuckled fingers and the smoke covered his purple and yellow and green painted face but only for a second. Then John B who held a beer in his hands but you could see the blood surrounding his split lip and small cut above his black eye.

None noticed your small frown or look of quilt swarming you except from Pope who stared intensely and lingered on the downturning of your lips as you turned and caught his gaze. You could see the small cut beneath his chin and no doubt just like the John B and JJ he accumulated bruises on his stomach or arms. But he was wearing his shirt buttoned up whereas JJ laid shirtless and John B stood with his shirt open.

It hurt you the most seeing Pope. The multiple bruises and cuts adorning his normally smooth and unharmed skin. They were because of you. When Pope moved in front of you stopping you from receiving the backhand Rafe sent your way as you berated him to stop. He was the reason you weren't hurt. And you were the reason he was hurt.

Pope looked at you oddly as you just stood there letting out a sigh.

"Y/N?" He asked, his eyebrows furrowing in question. When you didn't answer again he stood up and walked over to you where you stood with your hands threaded together and rubbing in anticipation. "What's wrong?"

"I-I wanted to apologise to you last night."

The rest of the Pogues had turned their attention to you, JJ even stopped smoking for a second to listen. Your eyes were down trained on the wooden flooring as you spoke. Popes furrowed brows deepened as he looked at you slightly bewildered that you thought you needed to apologise.

"I'm sorry he hurt you guys. It was all my fault and I should have stopped him but I didn't." You let out a dry chuckle. "All of you got hurt and yet I'm perfectly fine." You shook you head and sighed. "But I'm really sorry."

Despite the nice welcoming from your friends you still had the deep rooted fear they would hate you after last night but the looks on their faces held sadness or confusion rather than anger or disdain.

Pope had seen you do this before with the group. Whether it be a Pogue and Kook fight or just a small thing when he'd been around your house, like accepting responsibility when Rafe forgot to pick Wheezie up from her ballet class or the time when you'd apologised profusely for Rafes mistreatment of JJ at his job at the country club. But most of those times he'd believed it to be a small courtesy of just being related to the problem or saying it like when you say you're sorry for someone's loss but it wasn’t like that with you. At least not this time.

You were apprehensive to look up to meet his but when you did you saw the boy let out a small scoff and you were ready for him to yell at you to leave and never come back.

"God! Stop apologising for other people! You're not the shitty one!" The Heyward boy exclaimed blowing a fuse which surprised everyone when Pope was normally the calm and collected one. Not all the time. But most.

And he wasn’t angry towards you but toward Rafe and even the smallest notion that what he did laid on your shoulders. You simply blinked in his direction not sure what to say at his outburst.

"Pope—" You started saying before you were cut off by the boy throwing his hands in the air.

"No I can't take it any longer. I can't watch you blame yourself and apologise for the punches Rafe throws or the shitty things he does. He's a bad person and you are not him. I don't give a damn if he's your brother, okay? Y/N you've never done anything wrong in your life and yet you keep apologising for everything he does. It's not your fault. I'll tell you a million—scratch that a billion times if I have to."

And once again you blinked but this time blinking away the glossy liquid in your eyes hoping to clear your vision. It was a different feeling having someone tell you it wasn't your fault for once. Popes eyes stared passionately towards you as you held his stare. You felt comforted just the the deep ebony colours of his eyes that focused on you.

"I still left you guys though after. I didn't stay and help." You told them and Kiara stood quickly, abandoning the instrument on the couch and placing a hand on your arm. You felt yourself sniffling. Pope moved his hand as well but lightly placed it in your own moving his fingers over your palm in circles soothingly. Letting you know he was there. Pope and you had definitely always been the closest in the group. If you ever needed someone Pope was always there. Whether it was someone to cry on or rant to, he was always there. And he definitely cared a lot about you as you did him.

"Hey, Y/N. You still tried to help us. That’s what counts. And we get it was overwhelming. We don't have to deal with psycho brothers. No offence." Kie spoke softly and you chuckled lightly at her comment through small tears that you were quick to wipe away.

"Yeah, Rafe is his own person and technically an adult he can take responsibility for his own shit." JJ spoke as he stood from his space on the couch joined by John B behind him.

"I still don't understand how the two of you are even related."

You shrugged a small smile growing on your lips that Pope noticed. "Me and Sarah both wonder that. A lot."

They all let out small laughs before Pope pulled you in for a hug and you nestled your head into his shoulder at his warm and enticing hold. He smelt of musk with small hints of aftershave and salt water. But most of all he smelt of home. Somewhere that would always be inviting and your one true solace from the world.

Note • Got my writing mojo back, kinda. And I used a prompt for this which helped a lot as well maybe too much. But uh so funny story I said it could make a cute blurb and one thing leads to another and I’ve written 1.7k words oopsies. I rambled too much and it’s trash and it’s also 2am so forgive me. But I need help I write too much unnecessary details in my fics and it makes it so long and probably boring. Anyway it’s✨trash✨but I hope maybe you enjoyed.

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[soulwillower]

isn’t this easy?• bill denbrough

(bill denbrough x reader)      

warnings: swearing, some angst, fluff, poorly written, unedited!!!

... idk what this is

[losers + reader are aged up to high school in this.]

2.2k words

♡

bill’s eye rolls were getting increasingly more aggressive and painful to watch as you and the losers sit in the clubhouse, silently eyeing the boy as he leans against a pole with his phone to his ear. on the other line, an upset voice spits words like “insensitive,” “asshole,” “stupid,” and “embarrassing” but bill says nothing back, sighs emitting slowly from worried down lips with a pained and embarrassed look.

bill was broke, and not in an economic sense as much as in his relationship. he’d never admit it to you up front, but he told eddie and ben three days ago that his girlfriend was taking so much more than she was giving. and its killing him. 

its not like none of you noticed, it’s just that he’s still with her despite that that hurts you.

you cant help the twinge of anger that lights a fire deep within you; you open your mouth to question the berating insults that were just flying through his phone from the girls that was supposed to love him.  

richie asks before you have a chance. “whats got your girl’s panties in such a twist, big bill?” mike chuckles and okay, not exactly the words you would have chosen, but the grimace and shrug bill responds with suggests the job was done either way.

“e-earlier today i m-made a thats wh-what she said j-joke.”

you blink and share a look with eddie before looking back in shock to bill. “and thats all? you got all of that just from a joke? what, was it bad?”

he shakes his head, “i th-thought it was funny. she and her boring flathead f-friends didnt. i’m in the d-doghouse, now.”

it’s quiet then, because all seven of you - and possibly bill himself - were all thinking it, but not even you or richie were bold enough to just say it. plus, bill could never betray the treatment that he’s always known, and it's killing you to watch him wilt under this girl. he gets this treatment from his parents and now his girlfriend, too. it hurts you everywhere.

and in the silence of the group, the sarcastic 'cheers' gesture that bill makes with his can of soda is a sad reminder that he’s going to stay true to the golden core that once defined a now-dying infatuation.

but you’re fairly certain that golden core started rotting the moment they’d met. 

- 

sometimes, when bill gets flashbacks or around the certain times that he cant help but stare forlornly at the empty room across his hall, he would call her.

she didn't get it, of course she didn't. she tried to help him the first few times, like a decent girlfriend - really, the bare minimum - but it got hard for her. or she didn't want that part of bill. 

she only wanted the ‘good parts,’ you’d heard. but that doesn't make sense, because every part of bill is a good part. 

she doesn't get him, she doesn't understand the depths of trauma and hurt that swirls slowly below the depths of his 6’1 frame - behind his smiles, his leadership, his kindness, cheer, and unsullied bravery and intuition.

the losers get it, you get it. because you were there along with him the whole time and though still none of you want to outright address it for fear of getting violently sick as you recall memories. 

but you and bill can talk about it in a way that’s accessible for the two of you and it’s typically stuff that makes you laugh or makes you uncomfortable upon reflection, the fuzzy memories that get harder to recall the older you grow. 

and because of that, more often than not you’ll get a text and then sit in your car down the block until you see her leave his house before sneaking to his room to comfort him and brush tears off his cheeks that roll down from both the petrifying fear of repressed memories along with the stinging pains of rejection from his disdainful girlfriend.

it was heartbreaking.

during those nights he tells you that he doesn't deserve someone like you and you think that’s absurd. but he also tells you how nice it is that you make him laugh when he knows he’s about to cry, and how you know exactly how he feels when those intrusive feelings get in the way and its almost too much. he says he loves you, and when you say it back it’s with a stabbing pain through your heart. because he loves you, but not in the same way. 

and sure, you dream of the day where bill wakes up and realizes that holy shit, you’ve been in front of him the whole time. but even that isn’t as important as your longing for bill to wake up and see that he just deserves better than her. 

you could give that to him, but even so, he just needs to get out of her talons because they were ripping him apart.

- 

and when it had been a few days since you'd last gotten to see bill, you decided you needed to check in on him. out of childhood habit, you walked through the backyard and went to knock on the back door. but his figure is already there and before your fist can make a sound,  the door slides open. “oh, hi.” you say, eyes wide, fist hovering above the empty space that once was bill’s sliding door.

bills green eyes swim with happiness and he gives you a tired smile, stepping out with you and giving you another glimmer of hope. “h-hey y/n, wh-what’s up?” he asks you, following you without question. you shrug, “wanted to go to the park. need to get away.” you explain, leaving out the 'you' at the beginning of your last sentence. he gives a blinding smile as he’s helping to lift you over his back fence. “g-good, i’ve been missing my g-girl lately.”

you think about those words the whole way to the park and they still make you smile as your legs brush against each other on the park bench. you can't help but watch him as he talks. the way his lips form words as he tries to force them out of his mouth, the embarrassed blush totally absent from his cheeks now that his girlfriend isn't around. he told you once with a grimace that she doesn't always love when he stutters.

you do, of course. you always love everything about bill.

and minutes later, when you crack a lewd joke, he looks shocked and unsurprised all at once that you can't help your stare as his green eyes flick around, checking if any kids at the park heard before looking to you. he tips his head back with a bright laugh, the melodic sound coaxing a laugh of your own from your lips. his arm casually comes to rest against the back of the bench as laughs still bubble from his cherry lips, his red hair glinting in the sun.

he looks at you and for the first time in months, he looks completely relaxed. “y/n!” he says, halfway between amusement and chastising, his lips still smiling. you smile back at him, holding his soft gaze as he shakes his head softly.

isnt this so easy?

you wonder briefly why it isnt easy like this with him and her.

because you just don’t get it. bill’s the kind of boy that everybody loves - very few people dislike him and if you discredit the psychopaths or lunatics that this town is riddled with, the people left are far and few between.

his girlfriend dislikes him now, though, and he dislikes her. but hes too nice to see that, because he just wants everyone around him to be happy even if its at his own expense.

- 

and then two weeks after their phone call in the clubhouse, he showed up at your door with short breaths, stuttering words, and tears swimming in his eyes. it was one in the morning and he looked almost as bad as you’d seen him since that one summer back in middle school.

and when you were up in your room, he told you all about their breakup and how that itself didnt hurt, but what was killing him was how foolish he’d been to keep on dating a girl who didnt show him the kind of love he wanted.

he started to say something else, but stopped and you didn’t bring it up, as much as you wanted to.

bill was sleeping on rocks at home, spending sleepless nights thinking about where they’d stepped and the entire mess that had thankfully ended tonight. but he couldn’t sleep well and the evidence was right under his eyes.

so you’d let him stay with you, and he insisted on sleeping on the floor but you thought that was nonsense. he curled up with you on the bed and it was the best sleep the two of you ever had.

- 

then it happened again a couple weeks after their break up. bill had run up to your front door and pounded on it until you begrudgingly answered. he'd woken you up, because it was seven in the morning and you gape at him - he looks like he's been up all night. "bill-" you start but he starts stuttering, talking a mile a minute as if he has to say something now or else he never could again.

the feeling of an empty pit in your stomach that wishes for a splash of light starts to grow as he looks at you almost warily. "y-y/n, i have to- just listen, p-please, because i n-need to a-ask you..."

you wait patiently, terrified because he looks like he might be sick, but he starts anyways. “y/n. you u-understand me, you always h-have...” he looks very anxious, and bill is rarely anxious so you start to panic. his next words are shocking.

“y/n, are y-you... are you in l-love with me?” he asks, and the air leaves your lungs. he’s watching you, looking torn, and it breaks your heart. it looks like he’s in pain and he looks so lost. you nod slowly, shrugging. “yeah, bill. i just- i cant help it.” you say, feeling defeated and somehow elated by your admission.

his eyes well with tears and he shakes his head. “im so s-s-sorry.” he whispers, voice cracking. it kills you. “i’m s-sorry, f-fuck.” 

you’re scared and confused and deeply sorrowful as his words leave his lips. just because he doesn't love you back doesn't mean he has to be sorry about it at all. 

 it hurts you to think that a boy who gives so much love for everyone can be so lost and unsure with himself, feeling so undeserving of real love. “y-y/n, i'm s- i didnt kn-know. i d-didnt know, i'm so s-sorry.”

he's hysteric and your heart hurts as you realize he's sorry that you had to see him with his ex all the time and you shake your head. you’ve never seen bill like this before. 

“bill, it's okay, i just want you to be happy, that’s all. i don't need you to- we dont have to-“

“-i don’t want to f-f-fuck it up w-with you, too. i’m s-scared.” he says softly, eyes bright and teary like summer grass after a long rain. his hands are shaking as he lifts them to rub at his tired eyes, lip quivering.

the world spins for both of you as you tentatively walk forward, grabbing his cheeks softly. theyre warm under your touch and when he looks down at you, the spinning stops.

“why do you think you could ever fuck it up with me?” you ask softly, genuinely curious as your heartbeat thumps against your chest. his eyes are closed, in either fear or regret. 

“you couldn’t if you tried. i love ‘thats what she said’ jokes.” you say teasingly.

bill laughs wetly, his cheeks slightly squishing as his wide smile is obstructed by your soft hands. “i love y-you.” he says, eyes opening to stare at you seriously. you raise your eyes, surprised and elated at his words.

“you do?” you ask dumbly, hands falling from his face to his shoulders to steady yourself. “y-yeah, i do. i think i have for a r-really long t-time.” he says sheepishly with a smile.

you can’t help but let out a relieved laugh, your shoulders relaxing as he grins down at you with a look full of nothing but love. 

“can i k-kiss you?” he whispers, hands sneaking to your cheek and neck. “please.” you say just as quietly, unable to wipe the smile from your face.

when he closes the gap, he tastes like salt but he kisses you softly with more intent and feeling than you ever thought possible.

his hands are gentle and rough all the same, kissing with wild fire and with calm waters. you feel pinned to earth and up in the clouds, his lips on yours and tongue swiping gently in your mouth. he’s smiling into your mouth, laughing gently with love as he pulls you closer, arms wrapping tightly around your middle.

the darkness that ached for the splash of light within you is completely gone now, replaced with glowing love, admiration for the boy that you’ve loved since middle school.

 he belongs with you.

[yunhoway]

Star-Crossed Lovers

Pairing: San X Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Word count: 4.2k

Watching the Sun radiating its comforting rays brought peace in your soul. Even though you couldn't see his body due to the Earth situating in between you and the planet, you could feel his warmth. Most of the inhabitants on Earth enjoyed the fact that it was daytime, for they often engage in exciting activities during that time with their fellow companions. They were always out when the Sun was up. One thing for sure, the Sun was everyone's favourite.

Unlike you.

With the night sky accompanying you, you rarely saw the citizens out of their homes even though you illuminated the land just fine. The very few people who were out in such twilight hours were often the lonely and ostracised ones seeking for your company. These people didn't say much; just staring at the starless sky occasionally hoping that the forlorn feeling disappeared. It was depressingㅡyou had to admitㅡbut if your presence soothed their souls, you could at least provide that. It wasn't like the rest of their population appreciated your presence anyway.

It was understandableㅡyou believedㅡfor the people to not value the Moon the same way they did for the Sun. Who would have wanted to go outside when it was dark? Although you did provide some illumination for them (which by the way, wouldn't be possible without the Sun), it was still dark outside to do something productive. Furthermore, it was dangerous to play outside when the people often relied on the natural sources for light. 

"What'cha doing?" Disrupting your train of thoughts, the asteroid casually asked as he floated freely next to you.

"Nothing much, Wooyoung. What about you?"

"Barely escaped from Jongho's cold stare," he recalled his encounter with the Uranus. "That guy needs to chill, metaphorically of course. He looks like he was about to kill me or something when I was just joking!"

"And what joke did you exactly say?" You quirked your eyebrow.

"I just said 'Hey, Jongho, don't you think it's funny that the humans call you Uranus? Get it? Your anus?'. Damn, I was really laughing like a maniac earlier but he responded with a glare!" Wooyoung moved closer to you. "Don't you find it funny too?"

You shook your head in mock disappointment, "If Jongho decided to kill you, I'd said you deserved it."

"How could you?!" He gasped dramatically. "Aren't you supposed to be by my side?! You're San's lover, and as his best friend, I should have your support!" You chuckled, "Try telling him your encounter with Jongho, and see if he responses positively."

"Fine! Just you wait!" He firmly said. "And oh, Yeosang, I think you should hang out with Jongho more. Maybe that'll cool you down."

Before the Venus could even retort, the asteroid had already escaped once again. Yeosang huffed.

"I swear to god, he's been getting on my nerves even though I tried ignoring him!" He then faced you. "How can you even handle that annoying prick?!" You shrugged, deciding not to comment since you knew any opinions wouldn't be appreciated at the moment. He'll be fine eventually, you thought. Just then, you spotted two familiar entities approaching your way.

"Hey, Y/N!" Both Yunho and Mingi said in unison. "How's the people tonight?"

"Not many are awake."

Yunho and Mingi looked at each other for a moment, sharing a telepathic message before they nodded at the same time.

"That's fine," Yunho spoke with a cheery tone. "We'll just send one meteor to Earth and see if there are people lucky enough to make their wishes."

Mingi then pushed one into the Earth's atmosphere, letting the meteor free falling as it recorded the humans' wishes along the way.

~~~

When you finally had a glimpse of the Sun a few days later, your lips naturally curved upwards. It had been a while since you last saw him. San didn't noticed you peeking from the Earth, for he was concentrated with listening to his friend. Watching San's expression intently, you could faintly hear Wooyoung sharing his encounter with Jongho. San was nodding throughout, furrowing his eyebrows at one point before his face scrunched up with mirth. As if knowing that you had been watching them, Wooyoung suddenly turned to face you, giving you a smug face.

"Hah! You heard that?!" You heard Wooyoung shout, causing the Mars to stir from his sleep due to the noise. Seonghwa slightly opened one eye, and when he noticed Wooyoung, he shook his head in disdain before facing the other way. San flashed you a loving smile, in which you couldn't help returning too. Wooyoung seemed to realise that your eyes were not exactly at his, and when he turned back to San, his friend displayed a lovesick expression as San gazed at you fondly.

"Ugh, is this what humans call 'lovebirds'?" Wooyoung groaned in disgust. Nevertheless, neither you nor San were bothered by Wooyoung's remark when the two of you were head over heels for each other.

"Whatever, I'm leaving," Wooyoung announced, in which his friend gave him an amiable smile before San's attention was back on you.

"What are you doing?" You remarked telepathically when San sent you a flying kiss.

"Showing my love for you, of course." He winked.

As much as you want to hide the warmth in your cheeks, you know you couldn't when his rays were able to reach you and feel the sudden change in temperature. And of course, he took pride in making you blush with his affectionate displayㅡeven teasing you about it.

"Love, why are you so shy suddenly?" San cheekily inquired.

"I'm not, my dear~" You knew there was no point in denying it, yet you found it hard to admit that you were clearly affected by him.

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow. "Then why are you heating up right now?"

"Well..." you quickly dug up an excuse. "Your rays were too warm!"

"Oh, should I stop projecting my rays on you then?"

Your eyes widened as you quickly responded, "No!"

With his lips stretching further upwards while his eyes resembled your crescent moons, San was obviously having fun messing around with you. You faked a pout as San continued to laugh at your embarassment.

"My dear, why are you doing this to me?"

"Because I love you so much." The laughter ceased as he gazed earnestly at you. "I can't wait to hold you in my arms again, my love."

His confession had led the two of you to yearn for those small yet precious moments of San embracing you. The solar eclipse was the only event which allowed both of you to do so, hence San always found himself longing even more once the two of you parted yet again. It was probably this reason which caused San to treasure every moment of him enfolding you.

"It won't be long before the eclipse arrives, my dear." You gave him a faint a smile. "Just be patient for a little longer."

~~~

Every time the eclipse approached, you smiled yet cried. Smiled because you could finally return to his comforting warmth, yet cried because you knew very well that people hated to see you two together. They often prayed for the Sun and Moon to stay apart, for they believe seeing you together spelled trouble. Some even hurled rocks towards the sky in an attempt to chase you off. Although you couldn't exactly feel the physical pain from it, it hurt you nonetheless to see them hating you with a passion.

"What's wrong, my love?" San inquired when he noticed you downcasted.

"Nothing, my dear." You faked a smile. "Just feeling a little extra lonely lately."

"Be patient, love." He reassured. "When the eclipse comes, we'll be able to be together once again."

You wished you had his optimism, but a part of you thought that he had been able to be positive when the people always celebrated his presence. A part of you envied that he got to feel the people appreciating him. Your presence only brought the loneliness and sorrow out from the people. They rarely regarded your presence, treating you as if you were just another being floating aimlessly in the sky. Heck, even Wooyoung who sometimes flew past the Earth had been appreciated by them (although it was often that they mistook him for a shooting star).

"You're sad again." San noted, disrupting you from your negative thoughts. You laughed it off, "It's nothing, dear."

He knew you were lying, yet he didn't comment further about it. San knew you believed that he wasn't aware of the reason behind your sadness, when in fact, he noticed every little expression of you whenever you looked at the humans. It didn't help that the villagers were preparing with great efforts in what he assumed going to be the greatest event ever in history. He was afraid that with more people gathering to insult the eclipse, you were bound to get hurt even more.

San's words were soon a reality, for the citizens started denigrating your presence even when you and him barely converged a few days later. And it angered him more that he had to witness you shed your tear when you should be happy meeting him.

"Please don't cry, my love." It broke his heart to see you so despondent.

"I'm sorry..." You hid your crestfallen expression from him. "I'm sorry for inconveniencing everyone."

"Don't ever say that," he sternly warned. "You're never an inconvenience, especially to me."

Once you two were close enough, he didn't hesitate to hug your figure, covering your ears from the incessant insults thrown at you. Nevertheless, you heard them loud and clear, causing you to shed even more tears while hiding in his embrace.

"Shh..." San cooed. "You're special to me, and you will always be my everything."

He continued to whisper sweet nothings, hoping that it would silence the abuse which were penetrating your head. Eventually, you roughly wiped your tears once you pulled away from his embrace.

"You need to let me go now," you said.

"No."

"San, please!" You begged. "Or else they're going to hate me more."

He wasn't done with showering you with his love, yet he admitted that you were right. His hold on you eventually weakened, allowing you the freedom to orbit normally again. And when you completely escaped from his touch, San was already missing you greatly. You gave him a sad smile, knowing all too well of the feeling. At the same time, San was infuriated, especially when the inhabitants on Earth were holding large celebrations once the eclipse was over. His anger took over him, leading him to project his rays with greater might.

"San, don't," you urged. "You're going to harm the people on Earth."

"They deserve it!" He snarled. "They should learn not to treat you like that!" You couldn't return to him, because it would only upset the whole system by doing so. Unable to convince him any further, you slowly orbited as usual, hoping that he would cool down eventually.

It seemed your hope didn't come into fruition, for he had caused the lands to suffer droughts and the heat unbearable for the humans as the Earth continued to orbit. This time, San was determined to teach 'these imbecile beings' a lesson despite your numerous times to discourage him. Even Wooyoung, who always find the Earth annoying, felt that it was too harsh of a punishment. Nevertheless, no one was able to convince San when he was so headstrong in his quest for retribution.

Sadly, the humans perceived this as a curse due to the prolonged eclipse. They began to rebuke the Moon even more, hurling more hurtful phrases at you despite their parched throats. You hid your tears nonetheless, afraid that your lover would inflict a harsher punishment on them. Despite the humans' cruelty, you had a soft spot for the Earth, for you would be nothing if not for the planet. Only the asteroids and the stars were aware of your tears as they floated past.

"Please don't tell San about this," you implored them, although they found it hard to mask their worry for you. Nevertheless, they obliged. The least they could do for you was to respect your wish.

~~~

You barely talked to San ever since that incident. While he was engrossed in punishing the human beings, you were busy trying to conceal your pain. San failed to realise that as the moon of Earth, you were bound to feel the intense heat he was radiating as well. You often played around with the waves at night as a form of distraction from the pricking discomfort. Tonight was no different, except for the fact that you noticed a couple at the beach.

Weird, you thought. Who would come to the beach at this hour?

As you listened to their conversation, you soon realised that they were forbidden loversㅡmeeting at such an ungodly hour only because it was the most appropriate time for them. Your heart ached for them as you learnt how their parents hated each other to the core, restricting the lovers from expressing their affections openly. What surprised you though, was when the couple began to talk about you.

"Don't you think the Moon is lovely tonight?" The man observed. "The Moon is always there to witness our never-ending love, don't you think so?"

You almost teared up upon hearing his words. There was never once a human being spoke to you with such gentleness. Maybe you did end up tearing after all when you listened to the woman's response.

"I've always thought the Moon is beautiful. Do you think people will eventually realise its beauty eventually? I hope they do."

You couldn't resist from breaking down in tears. You wished you could grant their wish to love openly, but that was beyond your capabilities. Luckily for you though, Yunho happened to fly past you.

"Why are you crying, Y/N?" Yunho questioned.

Despite the tears running down, you beamed. You were glad that he came at the right time, even though you suppressed the urge to laugh at his confused expression.

"I know you fulfil wishes for humans who seek for you, but do you think you can fulfil a wish of mine?"

"Not sure, though," he replied nonchalantly. "But I can try."

You took a few deep breaths, calming yourself completely before you could articulate your wish clearly.

"I wish the people on Earth can appreciate the little things in life, love each other openly and rejoice at the fact that they're living."

Yunho had a sense that you were kind, but he never thought you would be so selfless. As such, he agreed to fulfil it immediately, flying around the Earth to spread the love you had for its people. When Yunho was done with his job, he returned to your side.

"Is it just me or is it hot in here? Like literally."

You hesitated to give him an answer. Knowing Yunho, he would confront San about itㅡand you didn't want that. You would rather let San do what he thought was necessary than confronting him and worsen the situation instead. However, Yunho was sharp enough to take note of your quick glance at your lover.

"It's San right, isn't it?" Yunho then noted the way you would squirm every now and then. "Y/N, what's wrong?"

"It's nothing."

"Stop lying," Yunho asserted. "Don't make me tell San about the times you cried on your own."

You sighed, "I'm not sure how much longer I can withstand the heat from his rays, Yunho."

"I'm going to confront himㅡ"

"Yunho, don't!" You quickly stopped him. "Just... don't."

"Why?!" He shouted. "Why Y/N?! Why are you making yourself suffer?!"

You flinched at his outburst, in which Yunho soon grew apologetic for his sudden release of emotion. Eventually, he heaved a deep sigh.

"Fine..." Yunho yielded. "I won't tell San for now."

"Thank you, Yunㅡ"

"But don't expect me to keep mum about it when your health is at stake," he warned, even though his eyes were showing sympathy.

The star took his leave a few seconds later, leaving you alone once again.

~~~

San's wrath seemed to have no limits, for his rays had never once weakened in its strength as the rays continued to penetrate the Earth's atmosphere. Frankly, he could intensify his rays further, but the Earth would then be annihilated and San thought that would be too easy of a punishment for the humans. San wanted to torture them, to let them suffer in his wrath. Almost all of the planets and asteroids and stars avoided San as much as possible, equally afraid that they would also become victims of his rage. Almost all except Mingi.

"Mingi!" Yunho shouted as he chased after his friend. "Do you know what you're about to do?!"

Mingi stopped on his tracks before turning behind, "Then do you expect me to do nothing after what you've told me?! Yunho, Y/N is in danger!"

Yunho was quiet for a moment. Although he knew his friend was doing the right thing, Yunho feared that a friendship was bound to be broken. Mingi didn't wait for his friend to speak, for he was already in a rush to confront San. And that seemed to break Yunho out from his trance as he quickly followed his friend.

"Hey, San!" Mingi screamed when he was near the Sun, ignoring the intense heat which the former was currently experiencing.

"Can't you see I'm busy?!" San growled, not bothering to glance at Mingi.

"Too busy to the point you didn't notice Y/N suffering?!" That seemed to catch San's attention, for his fury dulled for a moment before his eyes searched for you.

Oblivious to the commotion, you were preoccupied with your attempts to cool yourself down. Despite the pain, you didn't weep (even though the tears were precariously brimming in your eyes). You forced yourself not to cry because crying wouldn't solve the heat, and you didn't want to invite any more attention from your friends who witnessed your tears.

But San had seen it all. He had seen how hard you tried to keep the pain to yourself, how hard you tried to be less of a burden. Regret washed over him unceremoniously, for he finally realised his grave mistake. The radiations drastically diminished as he muttered, "What have I done..."

When you felt the sharp reduction of the heat, your eyes were automatically on San who was looking at you all this while. You recoiled when his rays slowly reached out for you. Although a part of you knew that San wasn't going to hurt you, another part of you was convinced that he was capable of hurting you unconsciouslyㅡespecially since you had witnessed him in his infuriating form. Eventually, you hid behind the Earth, not wishing to see San at the moment. San was left distraught when you refused to talk to him. Unbeknownst to him, both Mingi and Yunho had long excused themselves, so San was now left alone to figure out how to coax you.

Alas, San didn't have a concrete plan even when you had reluctantly revealed yourself. The humans still hated you as usual, and here he was, failing to protect you when you needed him most. You also refused to talk to him, facing the Earth as much as possible as you orbited around the planet.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N." San broke the suffocating silence between the two of you.

You never responded. San sighed. Nevertheless, that didn't deter him from attempting again for the next few days. He would speak animatedly to you, as if you two never fought in the first place. He would also try to get your attention by pointing at the glimmering stars around. Yet, you chose to stay quiet throughout, and San had no choice except to mutter an apology at the end of the day, every day.

San, however, had no clue that you were also apologetic towards him. You felt that he deserved better, and that it wasn't worth it for him to love you when he could have gone for something easier. Of course, San wasn't aware of these thoughts when you purposedly shut off your telepathic communication with him. Still, you shared these thoughts with Wooyoung, despite knowing his brotherly bond with San. It could be due to his amicable personality which allowed you to confide with him, and maybe a part of you hoped that Wooyoung would convey these thoughts to his best friend because you didn't feel confident to say them directly to San. Eventually, San was informed about it, and he didn't hesitate to approach you as soon as he heard about it.

"My love, why would you ever think of that?" His rays slowly reached out to you in an ever so gentle way.

"I don't know, San..." you sniffled. "I just don't feel like I'm worth fighting for..." Sorrow stabs through his soul when he heard your words, "Don't ever say that, my love. You're everything to me, and I'm willing to fight for you no matter what."

"Please stay strong for us, my love."

~~~

You were glad that you listened to his words, for things began to improve in your favour. The technological advancements discovered by humans had resulted them to see the Moon in a new light, and they also grew ambitious to study more about the solar system. This led you to know a new friend years later, thanks to Wooyoung who stumbled across Pluto.

"Hongjoong's a nice guy actually," Wooyoung remarked, "even though he seems reserved."

"Maybe it's because he has never communicated with anyone before," you added.

"Probably."

"Or maybe he just doesn't want to talk to you," Yeosang quipped as he nonchalantly looked at his fingernails. "You're annoying, after all."

"Hey!" Wooyoung yelled. "That's very mean of you!"

Yeosang only responded with a dismissive huff before turning away, putting a stop to that conversation.

"Meanie," Wooyoung mumbled once again before his attention was fully on you. "Are you excited for the eclipse?!"

You grew bashful at the thought, subconsciously catching a glimpse your lover who was in his own world at the moment. 

"Pfft, why are you so shy?!" Wooyoung mirthfully noted. "It's not like this is the first time you two canoodle!"

"Shh! Not too loud, Wooyoung!"

Although you didn't verbally express it, Wooyoung knew you greatly anticipated the eclipse. It was obvious that you were excited, especially since the humans had been more kind towards you and the eclipse. People barely scorned you nowadays as their praises for you emerged. You never thought you would still exist to witness this.

While the humans in the past would gather to insult you, now, the humans would watch the eclipse taking place as they marveled at the sight. "Look, Ma!" You heard a boy shouted from afar. "It's the eclipse!"

You faintly smiled. San was still holding you close as the two of you witnessed the people expressing their praises at the rare phenomenon together.

"Look at how the humans admire our love, my love," San said in a dreamy whisper.

Your back was pressed against his chest as both of you continued to stay close for a little longer. And when you two parted once again, you noticed some humans feeling disappointed when the eclipse ended. Of course, a part of you felt happy because you and the humans share similar sentiments. At the same time, you believed that the time had come for you to love openly, and there was no need for you to be envious of the attention received by San when the people also appreciated you for who you were.

"I miss you..." San confessed when he let go of you.

You chuckled upon noticing his pout, "But my dear, we barely parted."

"Still..."

From afar, Seonghwa watched the lovers interact with a contented smile. He had been supporting you and San quietly from the sidelines, and Seonghwa had always believed that your love would prevail eventually. Now that things were more or less resolved, Seonghwa was planning to sleep. But of course, someone had to ruin it.

"Hey, Seonghwa," Wooyoung pestered the Mars. "Aren't you tired of sleeping all day?"

"I'm much more tired of dealing with your energy," Seonghwa faced the other side, but that didn't stop the asteroid from continue questioning the former.

"Why~" Wooyoung whined. "I'm trying to be nice with you and this is how you treat me?! This is atrocious!"

The Mars then angled the planet in such a way where its volcano was aiming at Wooyoung. Seonghwa voice went an octave lower as he said, "Don't make me shoot lava towards you."

"Alright! Alright!" Wooyoung quickly backed away. "Geez... you're such a spoilsport..."

"What did you say?!"

Wooyoung had already took off before any lava could be spewed out from the volcano.

FIN

[lunasilvermorny]

Luna finds Jacob - The Portrait Vault

So... I wrote the scene where Luna finally found Jacob in the vault.

I never really posted anything serious that I wrote, so constructive criticism is always welcome, but try not to be too hard on me, I haven’t got any experience in these kind of things.

One last meme to take the edge off:

Luna: You promise not to run away again?

Jacob: Yep!

Luna: We’re a team and we’ll find the final vault together?

Jacob: Yep!

Luna: You SWEAR you won’t leave?

Jacob: Yep!

Luna: *frees him*

Jacob: *disappears immediately*

Luna:

Anyway, I hope you’ll like it and... yeah. Here it is:

Luna ran through the door into a room similar to the other vaults, only the walls were covered in portraits. She looked around, her heart still pounding while she’s catching her breath from the fight with Rakepick.

“Luno!” she heard a cry and raised her head immediately and turn to look at the huge portrait to her right.

It’s him.

“Jakube?” what came out of her mouth wasn’t more than a faint whisper, because she felt her throat closing up. He looked so different and yet she had no doubt in her heart that it’s him. Other than the obvious physical changes, there was something different about his expression too. He never looked at her like that.

“You made it!” his voice was the same, but she never heard him so happy before. His hands were pressed against the edge of the portrait, he was beaming. “The column! Open the column!” he urged her.

She was barely able to breathe. All doubts cleared from her mind, while only one thought remained – she has to get him out. Without a second guess, she raised her hand and touched the column, so focused on the mission at hand, she barely heard him say- “You can trust me!”

Something felt off when he said it, but she had no time to think about it, because at that very moment he floated out of the frame borders and landed right in front of her.

He gave her a sincere smile that she never saw on his face before, at least not aimed at her. She was barely aware of her legs moving in his direction as she threw her arms around him. He embraced her tightly in return. Have they ever hugged before? Probably, but they never really meant it, because it felt like the first time.

“What took you so long?” she heard him say over her shoulder with a familiar sarcastic tone, but it wasn’t as malicious as she remembered.

She let him loose, took a step back and crossed her arms while raising an eyebrow. “Really?” she said, imitating his tone.

“No, Pip!” he laughed and shook his head. “Not really. I know it wasn’t easy to find me.”

“Pip.” She repeated while narrowing her uninjured eye. Just hearing that nickname again made unpleasant memories surface, the kind that were buried deep in her subconscious for a reason. “All those years and that’s the best you can manage?”

“What can I say? I’m a sucker for the classics. Look at you, you haven’t changed a bit.” He paused for a second and then added- “Well, aside for some minor details.”

“So you like the blood?” she gestured her upper lip area, that she just noticed at that very moment was still bleeding. Jacob offered her a handkerchief, so she could press it against the open wound.

“It left quite a cut; it’s going to become a nasty scar if you don’t tend to it.” If he was trying to sound caring, he failed miserably.

“No shit.” She pressed the wound a bit too hard out of anger, but refused to show any sign of pain on her face. “Any other brilliant advice?”

“No, I won’t meddle with your edgy style. I do I like the shiner, though.” He pointed on her black eye “Gives you a tough look.”

“I have fought a dragon just now, you know.” She puffed her chest with pride.

“Well, even with a bruised face, you still look like good ol’ Pip.”

“Really? Because you’re a lot shorted than I remember.” She couldn’t help herself.

A flash of disdain appeared in his eyes, it was so quick she barely noticed it.

“I guess you’re right. You are freakishly tall just like father.” He smirked. “You really are taking after him, aren’t you?”

Luna’s jaw clenched. That sounded more like the Jacob she knew.

“Well, I’ve been trapped in this portrait for years.” He sighed. “If it weren’t for you, I might have never gotten out of this hell hole.” He sounded so tired. “You must have gone through a lot to get here.”

“Not more than you have, I’m sure.”

“Well, obviously.” His tone slowly reverted to the one he used when he was talking down at her. She clenched her jaw even tighter. These small stings started to taint the mood.

Was she glad to free him a moment ago? Because she’s starting to forget why.

“Thank you for not giving up on me.” His voice trembled a bit, when he gave her another unfamiliar yet soft smile.

Right. That’s why. Is she being too hard on him? He was stuck in a portrait for years and years, can she really fault him for being a bit rusty when it comes to human interactions?

“Well, you are my big brother.” She said. “Also, maminka kept nagging me about it.”

He lowered his gaze at the mention of their mother and after a few seconds, return to look at her, while a painful smile spread on his face.

“She must have been so worried.” He shook his head. “How is she?”

“Who knows?” Luna didn’t share his sentiment and couldn’t hide the resentment in her voice. “She shops a lot.”

“Well, that’s a start.” He said and a whiff of their old sibling rivalry was starting to surface. “I hope you weren’t causing her any trouble while I was gone.” Luna rolled her eyes and he said- “You know what I mean.”

“Not my fault she has the mental capacity of a child” Luna spewed without thinking and then added - “I forgot how much of a mama’s boy you really are.”

“I am what I am.” He shrugged. “I’m guessing she’s still with father.” He added before she was able to say anything.

“Why wouldn’t she? Their marriage is clearly perfect in every regard.” Luna roller her eyes again. To her surprise, Jacob laughed.

“Yes, they are the embodiment of true love.”

Luna laughed as well. “You missed so many great moments. I’ll give you some highlights – an awkward silence when we ate supper together and an awkward silence when we sat together in the living room, waiting for father to go to work already.”

“Ah, if only we had a time turner, we could have relived those precious times. Oh well.” Both their smiles were fake, but it’s better than getting upset over something that is out of their control.

“Is that my sweater?” He said all of a sudden and caught Luna off guard.

“Oh, yeah.” Luna said casually. “I forgot it was yours. Maminka attempted to do the laundry one day and shrank it. Lucky me.”

“But it’s all torn up and bloody.” He gestured her wounds.

“Well, as I mentioned earlier, I fought a dragon.” She said defensively.

“Why not in your own damn clothes?” he frowned.

“This sweater is way too small for you anyway.”

“Couldn’t you have tended this nasty cut instead of bleeding all over my valuable sweater?”

“You didn’t even-! Forget it.” She said impatiently. “By the way, speaking of nasty cuts, what’s with the shaved head?”

“Believe it or not, I was aiming for an undercut similar to yours, but Duncan and his shaky hands-“ for a brief moment he was completely immersed in nostalgia as he laughed to himself. “-he ruined it completely, so I had no choice but to shave it all off.”

“I’ve met him.” She said. “He told me some interesting stories, but somehow failed to mention this one.”

“Of course, the cocky bastard would never tell about his own mistakes.” but right after he said it, his expression changed and he stared at her, surprised- “Wait, what do you mean you’ve met him.”

“He’s a ghost hunting the Prefects’ bathroom. Kind of hard to miss.”

Jacob cleared his throat. “Yes, I-“ he stopped for a second. “I just didn’t think you’d meet him.”

“Yeah, and he’s not a fan.”

She definitely hit a nerve.

“I imagine you heard a lot of things about me.” He said with the slightest hint of blush appearing on his cheeks. She could tell that wasn’t what he originally intended to say. “Mostly bad-“

“Almost exclusively bad.” She said without thinking, but before she had the time to regret her tactless words, he started laughing.

“I’m glad my reputation stands.” He shook his head. “I had to stab a lot of people in the back to achieve this status of resentment, you know.”

“So I’ve heard.” She felt uncomfortable the longer he laughed, since it became clearer he was doing it to mask his true feelings. The pain was barely noticeable, but she was able to pick up on it easily, since it’s exactly how she’s dealing with these kind of situations. They really are more similar than she thought.

There was the sound of footsteps followed by Bill and Charlie entering the room. They both stared at Jacob with big smiles on their faces.

Jacob raised an eyebrow - “Who are those chaps?”

“My friends, they helped me find you.” she was mildly irritated by his tone of voice.

The brothers looked confused and Luna realized that she and Jacob were still speaking in Czech.

“Bill, Charlie, this is Jacu- I mean, Jacob.” She turned to her brother. “Jacob, these are Bill and Charlie Weasley. They are my secret family.”

Jacob put on a smile, but still said in Czech- “Couldn’t you have found one without gingers?” then said in English- “Pleasure.” and shook their hands.

Luna suppressed the urge to kick him.

“We heard a lot about you.” Said Charlie in a kind voice.

“Yes, my little sis and I were just talking about it.” His rude tone was too familiar. “All good, I hope.”

“Yes, Luna was very determined to find you.” Bill said with pride and Jacob gave him a lazy smile.

“Of course.” He patted her gently on the back and Luna noticed that he’s already bored of their conversation. “Who else would be talented enough to find this vault if not her?”

Bill hasn’t noticed the Jacob’s sarcasm.

“They helped rescue you, you prick.” Said Luna in Czech, but kept her smile so Bill and Charlie won’t suspect anything.

“Are you sure? They don’t look so bright from where I stand.”

But before she had the opportunity say anything about his snarky remark, Merula and Ben entered the room. Merula still limping and Ben shooting her worried glances ever few seconds.

“Merula, you should be resting.” Luna said, ignoring Jacob’s yawn.

“She insisted.” Ben said. He was clearly not on board with it.

“I’m fine.” Merula said stubbornly. “So this is the famous Jacob Silver.”

It was very subtle, but Luna saw a flicker of disgust in Jacob’s eyes when he looked at Merula.

“Blimy, Pip.” He put more effort in the fake smile and turned to her, then said the rest in Czech. “How many damn wizards does it take to get into a single vault?”

“The right amount to not get stuck in a portrait for years to come.” She said bitterly, and again to her surprise, he was amused by her disdain.

“And here I took all this time to pick you a nice spot on the wall next to mine. Such a waste.”

Luna felt confused again. His attitude was so unpredictable it was tiring.

“What the hell are they saying?” Merula looked at the other that shrugged in return.

“Any other unexpected guests?” He said, ignoring the confused looks her friends gave them.

“No, we had a last minute cancellation.” She said, but wasn’t able to carry the lighthearted banter when she thought of Rakepick’s betrayal.

Jacob picked on the change in her tone and ask- “What happened?”

“Rakepick brought us here-“

“Rakepick!” Everyone jumped when he shouted her name. There were no remains of the fake smile, his expression conveyed pure fury. “You know her? She’s here?!”

It took Luna a few seconds to recover.

“No, not anymore. She apparated-“

“When?”

“Just before I found you.”

“I have to go. I have to stop her from finding the final vault.” It was almost like he’s looking right through her, as if she doesn’t matter anymore. “R can’t get their hands on the treasure.”

“I know, so what’s our plan?” she asked seriously.

“Our?” he repeated, barely paying attention to her words. “There’s no ‘our’ anything, I’m going alone.”

“What?” she protested. “But I-!”

“There’s no time.” He cut her off. “Don’t tell maminka I’m back yet.”

“You don’t get to bloody decide! Do you have any idea-“

“Pip, there are more important things at stake here!” he gave her the same look he always gave her when she was in his way.

“We can stop Rakepick together.” She insisted, but he shook his head. He can’t go without her, he said they’re in this together!

“I know I got you into this, but it’s my fight, not yours.”

“Yes, you dragged me into it and now this is my fight too!” she refused to let him diminish her role in this. “I found three vault by now, I can help!”

“We’ll find each other again, Luno.” He put his hands on her shoulders.

“No, don’t say it like-! Dammit, Jakube! I want to find Rakepick too! You’re not the only one she betrayed-!”

“Be safe.” He lowered his arms and turned his back at her.

“Don’t you fucking dare-!”

But before she was able to finish the sentence, he apparated.

“Jakube?” She started trembling. That's the Jacob she remembered. The Jacob that treated her like she's a nuisance, the Jacob that always acted like he’s better than her, the Jacob that left his family behind for his selfish goals.

"Jakube!" She shouted, even though she knew it’s too late. She stared at the air where he stood a second ago, with a dropped jaw and eyes wide open. Her breaths got heavier, as the shock prevented her lungs from functioning properly.

Then she closed her mouth, grinding her teeth so hard it hurt. She clenched her fists, her blood was boiling.

She was furious.

He used her. All this time he guided her, made her feel like they are a team, but it was all a show so she could free him and then get left behind. Again. Like an old tool, like an annoying child. Now that he’s free, she’s worthless to him.

“What happened, where did he go?” Merula broke the silence, but Luna ignored her.

She wanted to scream, she wanted to shout every profanity possible at him.

Still shaking, she felt a soft touch on her shoulder. She jumped back just to see Bill’s worried face. He put his hand on her shoulder again and lower himself a bit so their eyes are at the same level.

“What happened?” he asked, his tone very serious, but still empathetic.

She glanced at the others. They all stared at her with the same look as Bill, even Merula.

That awakened a hidden part of her that was responsible for shielding her true emotions from the world. Her furious expression turned neutral in a matter of seconds, her body stiffened and her eyes turned blank. Then her expression return to normal – conveying annoyance rather than anger.

“He left to find Rakepick on his own.” She said in a stable and casual tone, but the sharp shift in her attitude made everyone feel unease. Bill lowered his hand, but remained unconvinced.

“Did he say-?”

“No.” she said immediately, before he was able to finish the sentence.

“That was rather rude of him.” Luna was surprise to hear those words coming out of Merula’s mouth, but she was too busy with keeping a façade, than to give an honest response.

“I’m sorry, Luna.” Bill said sincerely.

Luna let out a venomous chuckle and felt her blood boiling again, although it wasn’t shown on the outside.

“Why? It makes perfect sense.” She said as her tone grew colder. “He was always a selfish bastard, why would he behave any differently now?” Bill and Charlie looked genuinely surprised by that. “What, have I never mentioned that Jacob is a garbage person, forged in hell by Satan himself? My bad.” She let out a frustrated chuckle and clenched her fists so hard, her nails started to pierce through her skin. “I should have known he’s just using me, god knows what I bloody expected-“ but she stopped when she felt her emotions getting the better of her again.

Charlie and Bill exchanged looks.

“At least now you know he’s all right.” Charlie tried to comfort her, but it just made her feel worst.

“Until Rakepick will inevitably kill him, because the moron went after her all by himself.” Her words were still loaded with resentment, but she sounded calmer than expected.

“I’m sure she-“ but Bill never got to finish the sentence, because Merula collapsed again and Ben barely caught her before she hit her head on the floor. Merula struggled a bit, but managed to bring herself back to her feet.

“I’m fine, leave me be!” she pushed Ben away.

“We’ll handle him later, we should get her back to Hogwarts first.” Said Luna and hurried to support Merula’s body weight when she started dozing off again.

----

Luna afterward:

[ewankoseyo]

pet names || mark imagine

A/N: By popular demand and in celebration of our favorite #Marknae’s birthday, I present to you a continuation of Mark’s fake dating drabbles! Hope you enjoy!

Warning: Some swearing idk 

Please read you owe me and just for show before reading this.

Pretending to date Mark would be a lot easier if it wasn’t so hard to tell when he was acting and when he wasn’t.

——

Mark said a lot of stupid things, but this was probably the most stupid thing to come out of his mouth by far.

“Mark, you’re a grown ass man. Why would you need to pretend to date when you could just, I don’t know, go out and find someone you actually like?”

Mark sighed as he put his mug down and ran a hand through his hair. He had really hoped that you of all people would be the most understanding and not question his rationale. 

You and Mark had known each other for as long as you could remember. Legend has it that your moms purposely got pregnant at the same time so their kids would end up best friends like they were. Though you two never got along growing up—you begged your mom to never invite him over again after he told Jackson about your crush on him at your 13th birthday party—things began to shift when you both entered high school and realized you didn’t know anyone else besides each other. Out of the necessity to survive the unknown, you and Mark stuck together.  

Serendipitously, you and Mark never seemed to un-stick since then. 

Throughout the turbulence of your teenage years and your differing career paths that you were afraid would split you apart, you two remained close friends. Staying in the city after you both graduated from college, Mark vowed to stop by your new café-bakery whenever he had time off from his busy schedule in his second year of residency. 

He was really hoping that his dedication to seeing you would make you more open to the outlandish proposition. 

“That’s the thing, I don’t want to go out and find someone I like. I really don’t have the time for a relationship.” Mark sighed again, his gaze averting to the menu board behind you. He noticed the new addition to the board, written in your usual fancy hand lettering. It seems like you finally perfected the pie you’d been working on last week. You’d send him a picture of your latest attempt, asking him to stop by the shop to try it when he had the time since your taste buds could no longer tell the difference. 

“Oh, but you have the time to pretend to date me?” You cocked an eyebrow questioningly at the guy before you, pausing your cleaning motions. “What is this even for? I thought you already put her behind you a long time ago.”

You and Mark collectively shuddered at the thought of the wretched girl. Things hadn’t ended so well after two (wasted) years together. Everyone in their cohort believed them to be the perfect couple—two beautiful people at the top of their class with the brightest futures ahead of them. You always believed they would get married once their busy schedules settled down. 

That was, until Mark showed up at your apartment one night unexpectedly, his hands visibly shaking and his eyes not knowing where to look. You silently watched as he paced through your living room, explaining to you almost incoherently the cause of his distress.

“I gave her two fucking years and she really wasted half of it fucking our professor.”

Mark ended up staying over that night. As you stroked his hair softly while he wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled himself into your chest, his anger washed over with melancholic fatigue, you realized that you had never seen him look so broken before. Usually Mark was the one making you feel better after some failed date, but that night, he needed you to comfort him. 

That night also felt like ages ago, and Mark had realized he was better off without his ex, so why did he need you to help him with his facade?

“I have put her behind me,” Mark assured. “But ending things with her has...opened up other problems.”

“Like what?”

“Like some other girls from my cohort clearly trying to, um, get my attention.”

You scoffed. Leave it to Mark to think that having girls fawn over you is a problem big enough to resort to something as crazy as fake-dating. 

“Just tell them you’re not interested.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Mark resigned with a knowing look. You knew he always had a problem with confrontation. “Some of these girls are actually my friends from rotations and I don’t want to hurt their feelings.” Knowing you were ready to shoot back with another smart comment, Mark quickly continued. “But that isn’t even the whole problem! Ever since other girls have taken notice to me, she is suddenly interested in me all over again. I only recently blocked her number after she kept blowing up my phone with her sorry-ass apologies asking if we could get back together, and according to Jackson, she’s been trying to get closer to the guys in an attempt to get closer to me. Poor Yugyeom got really excited because he thought an older girl was finally interested in him until Jaebum set him straight.”

You were going to make a comment about how a restraining order and maybe a few other court-sanctioned forms would easily fix his problems when his last comment finally made his whole proposition click. 

Because if his ex-girlfriend really wanted to get closer to him, she wouldn’t just get close to the guys—she would try to get close to you. 

It was no secret that she was never really fond of you while they were dating. And with you still by his side long after their relationship had gone to shit, you imagined the feeling had festered. 

“So let me get this straight...” You got out your rag from your apron and began to clean the countertop in an attempt to clean out your mind and think of the situation logically. “You want me to pretend to date you so that your ex and all of your other little fangirls will back off?”

“Yes, yes, I know this sounds crazy, but if it weren’t for the witch making everything so complicated, I wouldn’t be in such a bind.” 

“God Mark, this is some high school shit,” you say with a shake of your head. “And why would I agree to doing such a thing? What’s in it for me?”

“Because you’re kind and wonderful and would do anything to help a homie out?” You rolled your eyes at his hopeful pleading expression. His eyes had grown to the size of saucers and he pouted his lip adorably. This may have worked on his admirers, but it wasn’t going to work so easily on you. “And it wouldn’t be so much work on you. We already spend all our free time together so it wouldn’t be much of a change from how we are now. I’ll do whatever you want, within reason of course. Whatever you want, just say the word.”

You brushed passed Mark as you bussed dirty dishes and his now empty mug off the counter, ignoring his expectant expression through your motions.

“If we do this, we should probably set some ground rules.”

Pleased with your (albeit unenthusiastic) response, Mark reached over the counter to ruffle your hair. “You’re the best! Thank you so much, babe!”

“Rule number one: I hate pet names.”

Mark only chuckled at your disdain as you retreated to the kitchen to put the dishes away. As you began to load the dishwasher, you found a similar grin inching its way on your lips. 

——

As per his ground rules, Mark insisted that you two keep up the act in front of both your friends and families. In order to deter his admirers, the people closest to you needed to believe the lie as well. You weren’t going to make this huge announcement to your loved ones like it was a wedding invite, but when the opportunity to put on a show presented itself, you both were expected to take it.

This included attending a dinner party at your fake boyfriend’s best friend’s house because couples always showed up to functions as a couple, of course. 

With one of Mark’s (many, you soon realized) admirers in attendance at Jackson’s small get-together, tonight had proved to be a good night to begin your masquerade. 

No one thought anything of it when you two arrived to the house together. Mark bringing you a glass of wine from the bar while you were catching up with Jinyoung was nothing out of the ordinary. No one batted an eyelash when he casually put an arm around you as you all listened to one of Jackson’s crazy stories. 

It was when you were coming out of the bathroom and realized everyone was gathering for a group photo in the living room that suddenly caught everyone’s attention. Bambam noticed you first. 

“Oh, Noona, hurry up! It’s on timer! Guys, make some room.”

Without skipping a beat, Mark patted the spot on his lap. “It’s okay. Babe, just sit here.” 

“Babe?!”

The camera clicked as the dinner party slowly registered Mark’s words. Seeing as everyone was caught up in shock from the revelation as you nonchalantly placed yourself in Mark’s lap and embrace, it was necessary that more pictures needed to be taken. 

Thoughts of the evening flowed through your head after Mark dropped you off home and you finally got to settled into bed. Everything had felt completely normal and no one questioned your relationship with Mark until it was time to take pictures. Even when he took you on his lap, wrapping his arms around your middle as a show of affection, his cheesy smile matching yours as he placed his chin on your shoulder—to you, it had simultaneously felt so normal yet the thought caused a stir in your stomach. 

It wasn’t that weird for you and Mark to be affectionate and touchy with one another, so why couldn’t you stop thinking about his gesture from earlier?

You felt your phone buzz next to you as you tried to shake off those thoughts. Adjusting your eyes to the dim lighting, you soon realized it was a notification from Jackson. He had tagged you and Mark in a comment on a photo. 

“And the cutest couple award goes to...”

You quickly opened up Instagram to see that Jaebum had already posted the pictures from earlier. You recognized the first picture as the moment of everyone’s discovery where you and Mark were the only ones posed for the picture while everyone else looked at the both of you with a mix of shock, confusion, and excitement. The second was the normal picture where everyone was finally smiling after having calmed down a bit from the revelation (though you noticed that Mark’s admirer in attendance wasn’t quite smiling with her eyes.) The final picture was the funny one. Your eyes scanned over everyone else’s silly expressions and gestures with one another before they landed on you and Mark. He was whispering in your ear about how Jackson’s fly was unzipped the whole night and how everyone was waiting for him to find out on his own. The comment had you cackling, nearly knocking you out of his lap before you wrapped an arm around his neck for balance. Mark’s arms had instinctively held you tighter to keep you from falling. 

You were pretty sure you stared at the photo for a good ten minutes. You couldn’t believe it—you two really looked like an actual couple together. 

Was this how everyone usually saw you two? You noticed the other comments on the photo were about the big reveal as well. 

bambam1a: @yu_gyeom pay up! I told you they would get together!

333cyj333: omg I really thought they were dating already

jinyoung_0922jy: wow all the signs were there but none of us picked up on it

Was this how you usually saw the two of you? 

You immediately shut off your phone as the idea invaded your thoughts and you turned on your side to get some sleep for real. Perhaps you were getting these crazy thoughts because you weren’t getting enough sleep. 

——

As Mark predicted, pretending to be a couple didn’t put much work on you. Besides having to get used to the small PDA—you remembered turning into a blushing mess when Mark pecked you on the cheek for the first time after introducing you to his hospital friends—nothing had really changed in the way you had to act in front of people. You would still be roasting each other in front of your friends. The only difference was that Mark would pull you into his arms and plant a kiss on your forehead, muttering “just kidding, babe” soon afterwards. 

You also appreciated having Mark at your beck and call, as per your ground rules. You tried not to have him go out of his way to owe you for the favor, seeing as he was already a pretty busy and stressed out guy, but you would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t enjoy the free dinners and him lending you his new car. 

And you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t kind of enjoy the newfound attention you were receiving. After a few public appearances as a couple and some not-so-subtle pictures showing the two of you together posted by mutual friends on social media, word quickly spread that you and Mark were a thing. People you hadn’t talk to since high school were messaging you to congratulate you on locking down the most handsome guy in your graduating class. You no longer felt like the odd single one out when hanging out with your other taken friends—and thankfully, you didn’t have to put up with them trying to set you up anymore. One time when you were waiting for Mark to finish up his shift at the hospital—he had promised you dinner and boba if you waited for him—one of his friends from his rotation had approached you. It didn’t take too long to realize she was one of his admirers. 

“You two look so cute together,” she had said, though it sounded like she was trying to convince herself rather than compliment you. “I’m surprised you and Mark only started dating recently, I always assumed you were together already.”

Your lip quirked in confusion. You had never met the girl before, so how could she make any assumptions about you and Mark? “What do you mean?”

She gave you a sad smile before looking down at her feet. “He just looks so happy when he talks about you, and he talks about you all the time. He keeps telling us to check out your shop and during our breaks, he shows us pictures of the desserts you make. He seemed so smitten with you.” 

Before you could ask her what Mark has said about you, the man in question was suddenly at your side. He beamed at you, interlacing your fingers before placing a kiss on the back of your hand.

“Hey princess, ready to go?”

So you and Mark were garnering a lot of attention. It was not long before you caught the attention of someone you really didn’t want to find out. 

“My mom wants us to come over this weekend for dinner.” 

You nearly choked on a boba pearl when Mark made the announcement. 

“What? Why?”

Mark gave you an apologetic look. “Apparently your mom told my mom, and you know how she is about us...she’s just really excited...”

You groaned as you took another sip of your drink. You had hoped that you would be able to put off this moment for a while longer. You were already getting an earful from your mom when she found out about you two, always nagging you to make sure that Mark was eating enough and even going as far as to sending you links to home remedies when you told her offhandedly he had caught a small cold. As much as you loved Mark’s mom, you didn’t know if you could handle acting all lovey-dovey with her son in front of her. 

Despite your apprehension, you tried to look on the bright side. “Dinner, huh? At least your mom is an amazing cook.”

Mark grinned at you across the table. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she doesn’t ask you when you’re giving her a grandchild. She already has like two of them.”

You chuckled. “Good.”

It was true. Mark’s mom didn’t bring up anything about your future kids, but she did bring up something else.

“There’s my good daughter-in-law!”

“Mom!” Too caught off-guard by the greeting to respond, you were glad Mark spoke up first. Mark moved in front of you to hug his mom, subtly shooing her away from you as he moved inside the house. “It hasn’t even been a full month yet, don’t you think you’re jumping the gun?”

“Nonsense!” Mark’s mom moved to pinch her son’s cheek, earning a fake groan from the tall boy. “Your aunty and I have been—”

“—Trying to set us up since high school?” You interrupted before approaching the woman with open arms and a teasing smile. “You and my mom think you’re both so slick, don’t you? Hi Aunty!”

“Well, we were right, weren’t we?” Mark’s mom giggled as she led you both to the dining room. “Come eat! I made all your favorites!”

Your worries over the impending evening slowly went away over dinner. You found it quite comforting actually. Catching up with the Tuans and eating Mark’s mom’s amazing cooking reminded you of the old days when his parents would come home from work and tell you to stay for dinner when you and Mark were hanging out at his place. It was as if nothing had changed since you were a teenager. 

As you glanced over at Mark, who was miserably failing to deny the extra food his mom was forcing onto his plate, you realized that Mark hadn’t changed much either. Despite growing out of his awkward phase, he still had the same funny nose that you liked to poke to annoy him. The same bright eyes that seemed to disappear when he was laughing hysterically from a dumb joke. The same contagious smile that you found yourself slowly falling for. 

Wait, what?

“So who asked who out?” Mark’s mom asked curiously as she filled up your glass with more water. “How did this happen?”

“What?” 

“I asked her first,” Mark replied almost easily. “I think I always knew I liked her but I just took too long to ask so eventually I did it. I stopped by her shop one day and asked her out...and here we are now...” He gave you a shy smile before averting his gaze back to his plate and suddenly you felt a strange sensation in the pit of your stomach.

Mark was awfully good at lying, even to his parents. 

As you prepared to leave after dinner, Mark’s mom approached the both of you with a shoebox.

“I meant to show this to you guys before, but I guess it makes more sense to give it to you now,” she explained as she opened the box. “I’m sure there are some pictures here that you’ve never seen before. Take a look through them! I’m going to pack you guys food to take home.”

Waves of nostalgia rushed over you as you rifled through the photos. Your college graduation. Your high school graduation. Mark and your family wearing matching shirts with your face on it for your volleyball senior night. You and your friends rushing the court to hug Mark for making the winning full-court shot at his basketball game. You and Mark on your first day of high school, in which you were standing a good five inches from each other and wore forced smiles to please your mothers. You with your cake on your 13th birthday—you wearing a forced smile because the picture was taken after Mark told Jackson about your crush (but you noted that Mark seemed to have a pleased smile in it.) A day when your parents took you both ice skating. A day when your parents took you on a picnic. 

“Aww, look at this one!” Mark chuckled as he held up a picture to you. “We’re probably like five here?”

It was a picture of the two of on your doorstep getting ready to trick-or-treat on Halloween. With big smiles and even bigger jackolantern buckets, you were wearing matching basketball jerseys and matching bunny ears.

You let out a laugh. “Oh my god, we were obsessed with Space Jam.”

“It was the trend back then!” Mark asserted, meeting your grin. “And look at you, you were so cute.” 

You sneered. “Yeah, I wonder what happened.”

“You became the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

Before you could even try to think of a reply, Mark’s mom had come back to the living room with bags of leftovers. You soon after said your goodbyes and Mark drove you home without incident, though his words echoed in your head the whole way through.

The weird feeling you felt in your stomach was still there as he gave you his kind smile and bid you good night.

What was it about that smile?

——

Mark was acting kind of weird tonight.

Your third party (but probably 50th sighting overall) as a couple, you no longer felt so awkward about keeping up the act. There were still a few admirers who clung onto the hope that Mark may return their feelings, so you learned to get used to the frequent back hugs and forehead kisses.

You hated to admit it to yourself, but it actually felt kind of nice to be held.

You liked to think that people saw you as the “casual” couple where you still acted like the close friends you were before but with some PDA, but for some reason, tonight Mark was being especially clingy.

It had started when Jaebum introduced you to one of his friends who was also passionate about baking. Mark was off getting drinks for the both of you and catching up with some friends he hadn’t seen in a while. Ecstatic to meet someone who shared the same passions as you, you and Jaebum’s friend quickly went back and forth about everything from different recipes to try out to food trends you’ve noticed recently to dessert Instagram accounts you should follow.

“I don’t know if Jaebum has told you this, but I’m also thinking about opening a business myself and wanted to learn more. Do you think we could exchange numbers and maybe meet up—”

“She’s already busy as it is. Here love, screwdriver just the way you like it.”

Mark handed you your drink with a cool expression you couldn’t quite place before wrapping an arm around your waist. Recovering from the interruption, Jaebum’s friend held out his hand to Mark.

“Hi, I don’t think we’ve met before, I’m—”

“Babe, they’re starting a new game of Cranium and want us to join. We better go before Jackson throws a fit.”

Before you could apologize and say goodbye to the guy left hanging in front of you, Mark was already pulling you in the direction of your friends, his grip on your hip growing slightly tighter. 

“Mark! He wanted to ask me about my shop!”

Mark gazed down at you and you couldn’t help but shiver slightly under his cold stare. You never thought his eyes could be so dark. 

“He can just ask Jaebum for your number. Let’s go play.”

Though Mark visibly relaxed as you joined your friends for games, you noticed he was a little touchier with you than usual. He would plant kisses to the back of your hand or your temple whenever you won a turn for your team. His hand was practically glued to your waist, absentmindedly stroking the fabric against it. The only time his hand did leave your waist was when you had to mold something with play-doh for a round and one of Jackson’s friends made a suggestive comment about your hands.

“Wow, Mark’s girl sure has a way with her hands.” 

As soon as your team had correctly guessed what you were creating and you took a seat back on the couch, you found Mark’s hand now resting on your thigh, slightly gripping the flesh. You turned to Mark but he only continued watching the game, paying no mind to your reaction to the sudden new form of contact. Despite the small smile placed on his lips as he watched Yugyeom and Bambam’s antics, you noticed his jaw subtly tighten. 

“Are you okay?” You asked him once the game was over, excusing yourself from the rest of the group to get another drink from the bar. “You’re acting kind of...strange.” You eyes drifted to his free hand now tucking away some hair behind your ears. 

“I’m just being the best fake boyfriend I can be and showing others you’re mine,” Mark shrugged, quickly brushing off your worry like his hand brushing through your hair, though his words caused a small stir in your stomach. “Are you going back to join the group?”

“Nah, that game got way too heated. I need to be away from people for a little bit.” 

“Mind if I join you?” Mark cleared his throat awkwardly before casually leaning against the bar. “You know—I’m just staying by your side at a big party like a good fake boyfriend would, of course.” 

“Mark, just say you’re tired of people too,” you joked, leaning next to him. He slung his arm around your shoulders as you took out your phone and began scrolling through social media. 

You said nothing about his actions, trying to ignore the whisper in the back of your head telling you how his arm felt like it was meant to be there. 

You also tried to ignore the tingles running down your spine as Mark leaned closer to your ear and spoke, busying yourself by engaging in idle conversation about some shoes you saw on Instagram. 

Ignorance became impossible as you suddenly felt Mark bringing you closer to him with the arm already around you, tilting your face towards his. 

And then without warning, he was kissing you.

It was probably from the bottomless screwdrivers you were consuming that night, but at that moment, you found Mark’s lips absolutely intoxicating. All sensible thoughts flew out of your head as he kissed you with a passion you’d never seen in him before, his lips tugging at yours softly yet with hunger. His free hand slid down to your waist to pull you closer, closing the gap left between your bodies. Feeling his tongue brush slightly against your bottom lip before dancing with yours, you knew your knees would have given out beneath you if he wasn’t holding you so tightly. With every peck against your lips, the same voice you had been ignoring in your head now whispered “please don’t stop.”

When he finally pulled away for air, his face still a mere few inches from yours, you let yourself believe for a second that Mark was gazing at you with all the adoration his eyes could muster, too real to fake. 

But then you remembered it was all fake and although prohibition of kisses on the lips weren’t explicitly stated in your rules, it was still something you both never considered doing. So you voiced your confusion to him, knowing very well that whatever prompted the kiss had to be serious. 

Mark smiled shyly, stumbling out a response while his eyes traveled elsewhere. You followed his gaze, instantly feeling your heart drop into your stomach when you realized it was serious.

There she was, glaring at you with the same disdain as when she used to pick Mark up from your place for dates. 

You glanced up at Mark and noticed him stare back blankly, seemingly frozen under her gaze just like you were. 

“Oh.”

Mark proceeded to apologize for the sudden attack but you just brushed it off. 

“That’s what fake girlfriends are for.” 

Really you were just trying to brush off the feeling of his kiss burned into your brain. 

It remained branded there when Mark drove you home that night. As he steered through the darkness, Mark chatted amiably with you about something funny that happened with one of his patients the other day, as if he hadn’t just given you one of the most mind-blowing kisses in the world an hour ago. If he noticed your lack of reciprocation in the conversation—your responses limited to “oh really?” or “damn, that’s crazy”—he didn’t say anything about it. 

As he pulled up in front of your building, he gave you the same bashful expression he held when he pulled away from your lips. 

“Sorry, again, for...you know—”

“It’s okay,” you shook your head, unknowingly holding a breath in an attempt at nonchalance. “I understand.”

It was just a kiss for show, nothing else.

Mark gave you a relieved smile. “Good night. Thank you again.” As you were about to open your door, Mark leaned towards you and pecked you on the cheek. 

Your hand froze on the handle. “W-what was that for?”

Mark looked at you in confusion before the absence of an audience dawned on him. “Sorry. Habit, I guess?” He gave an awkward chuckle.

You laughed nervously in response. “Well, good night Mark.” 

And by good night, you meant good bye.

——

It was a full week until you saw Mark again. 

You were getting ready to close up, bidding good night to your employees as you cleaned the espresso machine when the front door jingled open again.

“Sorry, we’re closi—”

“I did it!” Mark approached you at the counter with the biggest smile on his face. Whatever the cause, he may as well have won the lottery. “I finally confronted her!”

“Wait, what?” Quickly getting over the shock from seeing him, you paused your motions to give Mark your full attention. “What happened?”

He let out a contented laugh, not knowing where to start. “Well actually, she was the one who wanted to see me first. Jinyoung said that she was waiting for me to finish my shift, so I figured I’d settle this once and for all. So I go and see her when I’m done and she just has the sorriest look on her face, but we both know that anyone can see right through her, right? But I don’t say anything about it and I just let her say her piece, and she goes into this sob story about how when she saw us at the party—by the way, remind me to kill Bambam for inviting her, he really thought we were on ‘good terms,’ oh please—but yeah, when she saw us at the party, it totally ‘broke her’ and she admits that she made a mistake and if she could redo it all over again, she would have never cheated. And then she went on to saying how she hopes we could get back together again because she misses me and promises to be better to me and blah blah blah.” Mark finished with a mock gag. 

You blinked. “...And then what happened?”

He looked at you with a self-satisfied smirk. “In the end, I thanked her. I thanked her for ending things because I finally got to see her for who she really was—a lying witch who thought of no one else’s feelings but her own. Then I kindly told her to stay away from me and my friends unless she wanted things to turn ugly really fast.”

“Wow Mark...sounds like you really got over your fear of confrontation. Congrats...” You wanted to say more, but all you think about was how soft his lips looked today.

“Yeah, so I thought I’d come over today since I have some time and you’re closing up. What are you feeling for dinner? We’re celebrating.”

“What?” You realized he wasn’t asking if he could take you out but it was already assumed.

Mark nodded. “I owe you remember? I wouldn’t have been able to get her off my back if it weren’t for you. You also haven’t responded to any of my texts this week asking if you wanted to do dinner, so I for sure need to treat you tonight.”

“Right...”

“And we just need to catch up. I haven’t spoken to you in a week. What have I missed?”

You grimaced slightly to yourself. So he had noticed your silence.

“Mark,” you sighed, moving around the counter so you were standing next to him. Now was probably the right time to talk about this before the little courage you possessed completely slipped away from you. “You don’t need to treat me to dinner anymore.”

He looked at you with a perplexed expression. “What do you mean? But I owe—”

“You don’t owe me anything anymore,” you say with a sad smile. “You got what you wanted. You finally got her off your back and I’m pretty sure all of your admirers know not to even try anymore. It’s done.”

His lips quirked thoughtfully. “So you’re saying—”

“—that there’s no point in fake dating anymore.” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Unable to read his expression amid the newfound uncomfortable silence, you moved to go back behind the counter, ready to mumble an excuse about how you were tired and could do dinner another time when you felt him tug you back by the arm.

“Then I guess now I can start taking you on real proper dates.���

You stared at his hold on your arm before averting your gaze to his face, scanning his expression for any sign of insincerity. His eyes held a certain fondness towards you, falsity nowhere in sight. 

“Wait, are you saying—”

Mark let out an amused chuckle at your confusion matching his earlier. “I guess you haven’t noticed yet, but then again, you were never one to pick up on what’s right in front of you, much less subtle hints.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know—”

“I’ll have you know that I have completely fallen for you and there’s no way I’m getting back up.”

As your eyes grew wider at the confession, so did Mark’s grin at your expression.

So cute.

“Are you serious?”

He nodded.

“B-but it was just for show and we’ve always just been friends—I didn’t think-I just thought—but you were so good at acting—was that why at the party...you were being weird—”

“Some guys were trying to hit on you and I had to let them know who you belonged to,” Mark answered easily with a smirk, clearly enjoying watching your mind short-circuit before him.

“But then that kiss—”

“—only made me realize that I wished I kissed you sooner.” 

You stared at Mark for a moment, completely at a loss for words and ignoring the heat rushing to your cheeks. Mark might as well have been speaking to you in a foreign language—nothing coming out of his mouth was making sense.

“Mark, I swear if you’re joking around right now...if you’re joking, I’m gonna kill you.”

“I’m only joking if you don’t feel the same way about me,” Mark confessed, his smirk reverting back to the shy smile you knew all too well. “But I really hope you do because I’m crazy about you and being your fake boyfriend for over a month only confirmed how much I want to be it for real.”

Mark watched as you chewed on your lip, a habit of yours when you were really think hard about something.

“I’ll have to think about it.”

He gave a resigned nod, looking down at his feet. “I understa—”

“Over dinner. Tonight.” 

His head shot up immediately, smile growing wider by the second. “Really?”

You reached up to his face, playfully patting him on the cheek. “You owe me, remember?”

Mark nodded in excitement before shooting you a wink. 

“Whatever you say, babe.”

You inwardly groaned and rolled your eyes. “I told you I hated pet names, yet you still do it.”

Before you could walk away in mock disgust, Mark quickly pulled you back again, your face instantly landing on his chest as he wrapped his arms around your back.

“Because you let me.”

As you looked up and received a surprise kiss to your nose from Mark, you realized you would let him for the rest of your life.

——

[taekemeaway]

info: namgi, teen, roommate/college au genre: fluff, slice of life | word ct: 6k warnings: devils lettuce, stoned antics summary: to everyone else, namjoon was a brilliant philosophy student that would make socrates swoon with pride. to yoongi, namjoon was the annoying roommate that laid awake at night mumbling things like,

"do jellyfish get lonely because there are no peanut butter fish?"

and yoongi hated him.

but he liked him more than he hated him.

cross posted on ao3

There was a lot to be said about Kim Namjoon, and usually it was good. He was a hardworking student with a kind heart, helpful and wise, he fought for peace and practiced it too. In his spare time he could either be found tutoring or volunteering at various school functions around campus with an awarding winning smile on his face. Didn’t ask for praise or recognition (even though he received it often). He was, for all intents and purposes, a good person. The only people who held any amount of disdain towards him were usually jealous of his success or insecure of the lack of their own.

Yoongi, on the other hand, was his roommate.

And he had plenty of things to say about him.

One fact that no one would argue, Namjoon was brilliant. Whether you loved him or you hated him (or you were Yoongi and found yourself somewhere in the inbetween) you had to admit that you had never met anyone more intelligent than him. He chose to study philosophy and posed the sort of questions that would make Socrates roll over in his grave to hide the massive boner he just received.

“You have to ask yourself,” Namjoon would begin as underclassman swarmed him, each hanging on his every word like well-trained minions, “if a man kills an intruder for fear of his own life, was he just for doing so? Most people would say yes. Murder is inherently illegal but this man will not go to jail for breaking a law to protect himself.”

Yoongi wasn’t sure if he paused to catch his breath or to build tension. Either way, his goons seemed to only become more entranced by his silence.

“Then is that man so different from the woman who buys prescription drugs from someone on the street if she needs them to stay alive because her healthcare refuses to cover it? She isn’t causing anyone any harm but more likely than not this woman will see jail time and the man who ended someone else’s life will walk free. They both broke the law, shouldn’t the punishment be the same if their intent was just?”

Yoongi would roll his eyes in disgust. Not because of what Namjoon proposed, it was a well thought out argument, but because late at night that same progeny of Aristotle would lie awake and utter things like,

“Do you think jellyfish ever get lonely because there are no peanut butter fish?”

It was a marvel that this was the same man that students and faculty alike fawned over. Yoongi sometimes found himself staring just because he had no idea how someone so smart could’ve said something so utterly moronic. Kim Namjoon was a bundle of chaotic contradictions wrapped up neatly in a well worn cashmere sweater. Hate was a strong word, and Yoongi didn’t hate him. Sometimes he thought it would be easier if he did. He was just fed up with their whole semester long situation.

Yoongi couldn’t pinpoint one singular reason why Namjoon got under his skin. There wasn’t something that he just couldn’t forgive, something that he had done that warranted such malevolence, Yoongi couldn’t explain it. He hated attention, he hated the limelight, whether it was on him or not. Namjoon, alternatively, was constantly bathed in it. Every step he took seemed to be toeing a red carpet that had yet to exist. Each word out of his mouth almost preluding an acceptance speech that was sure to come.

Maybe irritated was a better word.

He was constantly irritated by Namjoon and everything that he did.

He didn’t like to show it though, that was in poor taste. Namjoon never did anything to slight him personally but sometimes Yoongi just didn’t like people. In fact he usually didn’t like people. Some part of him felt that if he wasn’t forced to live with the most intelligent student (and person) on campus he would’ve at least been able to tolerate him. Even if that were true, the semester was almost over and they were never going to see each other again.

The idea didn’t make him happy per se, but it didn’t make him unhappy either.

“I don’t get why you hate him so much.” Taehyung mused while he flipped through a magazine. “Sometimes I swear you’re spiteful for the sake of being spiteful.”

“You’re right, I am.” Yoongi returned absentmindedly. “And I don’t hate him, I just can’t stand him for lengthy intervals of time.”

Taehyung scoffed. “You say that about everyone.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true.” He mumbled in response. “If you’re going to lecture me, at least make yourself useful. Can you hand me that—thing.”

Rolling his eyes, Taehyung rolled off of Yoongi’s bed to grab that thing. “Yoongi, it’s your laptop. When are you going to stop referring to it as that thing.”

“When it decides to cough up that 15 page research paper it ate.” He explained.

Taehyung scoffed. “That was—that was two semesters ago!”

Yoongi didn’t look phased. “And?”

“Turn on autosave!”

“No.”

“And why the hell not?”

“I refuse to abide by its rules. That means it wins.”

Groaning in exasperation, Taehyung threw himself back onto Yoongi’s bed. “See? This is what I’m talking about. When faced with two options, one being a solution and the other being a problem, you willingly decide to let it be a problem! In what world does any sane person do that?”

“Dunno.” Yoongi clipped, opening up his hand expectantly. “Can you hand me that—other thing?”

Taehyung pressed his palms into his eyes. “Why do I—fine. What is the other thing?”

Glancing over his shoulder, Yoongi vehemently pointed to a rather expensive set of headphones that had been obviously tossed across the room in one of his fits.

Sighing, Taehyung grabbed it for him. “Alright, what did the headphones do?”

“You don’t want to know.”

Taehyung eyed the headset already sitting next to him. “Did you accidentally use Namjoon’s headset and realize that it’s so much better than your own?”

While Yoongi didn’t offer a response, his red ears said it all.

“Jesus, hyung.” Taehyung muttered, shaking his head. “Can’t you at least pretend to get along with him? It’s the end of the semester, it’s the holidays for Christ’s sake! He’s not the devil and your continued vendetta against him just makes you look like a royal prick!”

Taehyung statement hung in the air for some time, waiting for Yoongi to fill the void with something that resembled an explanation. He would be disappointed, as he often was.

“Did you say something?” Yoongi threw casually over his shoulder, pretending he hadn’t heard him.

“Nothing worth hearing, apparently.” Taehyung lamented. “Alright, my shuttle should be here any minute and I need to finish packing. I’ll see you next semester.”

“Later Taehyung.” He returned with half a wave. “Say hi to the folks for me.”

Taehyung almost smirked. “Don’t worry, I will. Try not to work yourself to death.”

“No promises.”

“I know, later Yoongi.”

With a click, Taehyung was gone and Yoongi was finally alone. Savoring the welcomed silence, he leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms overhead. The time in between semesters was his favorite time of year. He could stay at the dorms while everyone else dispersed to the countryside to see family they haven’t laid eyes on in months. It granted him both a reprieve from his disapproving parents and the other students that never ceased to get on his nerves.

And, most importantly, He mused happily, no more Kim Namjoon.

Of course he was still around. His side of the room was still dredged in chaos, his suitcase and other luggage remained mostly untouched from what Yoongi could tell. Not that he expected anything less, it was Namjoon’s routine. He would get so caught up in goodbyes and last minute philosophical debates that packing would be left until he was scrambling to get it all done. And Yoongi would have to endure it all and hope that he didn’t grind his molars to dust from pure annoyance.

In his defense, he didn’t start grinding his teeth until he met Namjoon. So he’ll gladly blame him for the dental bills that will certainly accumulate in the future.

One more day. He reminded himself. One more day and I’ll finally be free of him.

There was only one problem with his plan, by the time that Namjoon rolled in it was almost midnight. Well after all of the buses and shuttles had finished their routes for the night—for the whole semester, in fact. No one was coming or going from the school until service up to the campus resumed towards the end of January.

And Namjoon was there.

In their room.

Smiling.

Yoongi felt like he was going to be sick.

“You don’t look so good, hyung.” Namjoon pointed out, shouldering off his bookbag. “Don’t tell me you’re getting sick right before Christmas.”

Almost as if he was in a trance, Yoongi didn’t confirm or deny Namjoon’s assumption and instead found his jaw planted firmly on the ground. He was still in shock, frozen in time staring at his roommate and hoping that the horrible hallucination would vanish before his eyes. Minutes ticked by without incident, or any that was visible. Because Yoongi could swear that World War 3 was waging in his chest while his mind tried to wrap itself around the situation he was faced with.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you that I decided not to go home for the holidays.”

This—this is hell.

“So it looks like it’s just going to be you and me for the next month or so.”

This is the lowest circle of hell.

“Nothing but us guys and some fun philosophical conundrums to pass the time.”

Taehyung was wrong. Namjoon is most certainly the devil and he’s planning on subjecting me to his hellish torture!

Yoongi didn’t say anything as Namjoon got comfortable after a long day of—whatever he does. His mind was still careening off the tracks. The amount of time that they usually spent together in their dorm room was almost negligible, at least the time they spent awake anyways. He honestly didn’t know how they were going to survive for a whole month if Namjoon expected him to hold a conversation. Typically his responses varied somewhere between grunting and feigned oblivion. And that was perfectly fine for the twenty or so minutes before they drifted off to sleep.

He had a sinking feeling that it wouldn’t be enough anymore.

“So, what are your plans for break?”

To take a break from you. “Nothing really.”

“Same.” Namjoon sighed, pulling out War and Peace in the original Russian like that was completely normal. “I’ll probably just catch up on some light reading, you won’t even know I’m here.”

Light reading? Yoongi exasperated. I can’t tell if he’s showing off or if he genuinely feels that War and Peace is such a breeze to read.

He decided that it was a little bit of both.

“Whatever.” Yoongi finally mumbled before turning his attention back to his computer and the track he’d been mixing.

But as much as he wanted to get back to work, he couldn’t. There was something about Namjoon, whether it was his energy or his spirit or whatever—Yoongi couldn’t concentrate. Namjoon was just so loud. Which didn’t make any sense, glancing over his shoulder Yoongi could see that he wasn’t doing anything. He was just reading, just sitting, just existing and it was too much for Yoongi to handle.

This is going to be a long break.

A long.

Hellish.

Break.

As usual, Yoongi’s concerns and grievances were grossly exaggerated. One would even say dramatic if they wanted to piss Yoongi off. He hated that word. He hated it most when Taehyung had turned to Hoseok in the middle of a crowded coffee shop and asked, “can I get a definition for dramatic?” to which Hoseok dutifully replied with, “intending or intended to create an effect; theatrical.”

Which wasn’t inherently awful but they were using it to make a point when Yoongi wanted to perform a sit-in when the girl behind the counter said that they were out of almond croissants.

“You’re being dramatic, hyung.”

“You don’t even know what that word means, dongsaeng.”

“Oh don’t I? Hoseok, come over here.”

So, yeah. He hated that word.

In context, Namjoon wasn’t in their dorm room nearly as much as Yoongi had been dreading. He was barely there at all. What Yoongi neglected to take into consideration, Namjoon had a life and friends. Why would be coop himself up in a broom closet? Yoongi, on the other hand, had an affinity for silence and being bitter and neither were too condusive to having any semblance of a social life. He could count his friends on one hand and one of them was the underclassman, Jeongguk, that was forced to deal with him when they were both in the studio late at night.

Taehyung said that he didn’t count.

He was being paid to be there.

(Yoongi counted him anyway. Screw you Taehyung.)

And the few times that Namjoon’s schedule permitted him to come back to the dorm, he mostly let Yoongi be. It really wasn’t too different to their dynamic when school was in session. Turns out, there was nothing for him to be afraid of. At least—nothing he wasn’t already afraid of. Like human contact, escalators, the second floor bathroom, and cilantro. All of which were equally terrifying in his eyes.

At first, Yoongi felt like he was in paradise. He was alone, there was quiet, he wasn’t needed and he didn’t need. On paper everything was perfect. Two weeks into break and he was already almost finished with everything he wanted to work on. Day in and day out he was just this over exhausted bundle of productivity. Eventually though, he realized that he had been plagued by an ungodly affliction. One that would surely be fatal if left unchecked. And it wasn’t his innate desire to make playlists.

He was bored.

That was the contradiction of Min Yoongi. He only craved quiet when there was none, loved solitude when he couldn’t get away. Something he didn’t take into consideration, never thought of, how did he know that he didn’t like people if there was no one there to constantly pester him? The answer was simple, he didn’t. As much as he hated people, he needed them. He needed them so he could hate them. Which didn’t make any of sense when he tried to explain it to Taehyung. That didn’t matter, to Yoongi it made plenty of sense.

Unfortunately there was only one person on campus and in his direct circle of friends to have enough time to humor his social neglect. One person in the entirety of the universe that could cure his deadly affliction. The same person he had been so keen to escape over winter break. He grimaced just thinking about it. Making nice with Kim Namjoon.  

The Kim Namjoon.

But, in all honesty, he didn’t know how. He could barely make nice with Hoseok and Taehyung, he tolerated Seokjin, and Jeongguk didn’t say much (which was why Yoongi liked him best). How do people talk to other people? For two days he sat at his desk with his hands fisting his hair in frustration, trying to figure out how to strike up a conversation with someone he had never had a desire to converse with before.

What do I say, you smell nice?

Oh God no that’s awful.

Do I say nothing?

Can I just bark at him?

Because honestly that’s the least awkward thing I can think to do.

It was madness.

Ugh, I need to smoke a bowl before I lose it.

So that’s what he did, he cracked open a window, packed his Kumamon bowl, and let some herbal refreshments drown his worries and social anxiety. He inhaled deeply and leaned back in his chair, suddenly more concerned with the fact that male seahorses give birth and wondering if in some apocalyptic future he’d have to do the same.

“Is that what I think it is?”

Eyes wide in fear, Yoongi swivelled around to the sight of Namjoon standing in the doorway with a similar expression on his dimpled face. Busted. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to burst into flames or implode on the spot. Either would’ve been better than having his Holier than Thou roommate running off to campus security and getting his scholarship revoked and his ass thrown out into the snow. Swallowing nervously, he decided to take one more hit in case any of those scenarios came to fruition.

“Maybe?” He admitted while he held it, exhaling it only when he couldn’t take it anymore.

Namjoon suddenly smiled. “I had no idea you smoked! If I had known I wouldn’t have tried so hard to hide my stash so thoroughly.”

Wait—what?

Intrigued, Yoongi watched Namjoon kneel down beside his bed and pull out a ratty old cardboard box from beneath it. Inside was a myriad of books, some old some new, each as inconspicuous as the next. As he opened up a fairly worn copy of The Scarlet Letter Yoongi managed to peep a small baggy of “oregano” tucked away neatly in a cut out portion of the pages. He wasn’t sure what caught him off guard more, the fact that Kim Namjoon took part in illegal activities or that he disfigured such an iconic book. For a good cause, of course, it was still shocking to say the least.

“Wow.” Was all that Yoongi could manage as his slower mental processes took in what was happening. He reflexively offered his bowl to Namjoon as silence descended upon them, sharing is caring as he always said.

“Thanks.” Namjoon smiled, pulling out his lighter and taking a puff. “It was getting harder and harder to hide this stuff from you, you never leave the room after all.”

Yoongi shrugged. “Sorry, I don’t like going outside. Or talking to people. Or moving. Or—I don’t like a lot of things actually.”

“I’ve noticed that.” He laughed as he let a stream of smoke pass between his lips. “I think you’ve said less than ten words to me since we moved in in August.”

“Probably.” Yoongi snorted, taking the bowl back and contemplating packing another one. “You gonna stick around? I don’t want to grind another bowl just for myself.”

Pursing his lips and eyeing his watch, Namjoon looked unsure. “Well—I was going to go get some lunch with my friends…”

“Whatever, it’s fine.” Yoongi waved him off. “You can come smoke whenever you want, I don’t really care.”

Namjoon arched a brow at him. “Was that an invitation to hang out?”

Yoongi felt his ears getting red. “Not really. You live here.”

“So do you.”

“And?”

“We’re technically always hanging out.”

Yoongi shrugged. “Then I guess it was.”

Watching his lips tug into a smile, Yoongi felt his heart skip a beat.

“Sounds good to me. I’ll see you later hyung.”

Click.

Sitting in silence, Yoongi found himself wondering;

Has Namjoon always been that handsome?

The answer was yes, obviously, but it was still something he had never noticed before. Yoongi found himself rolling his eyes at his own expense.

What, do you have a crush on him already?

What if I do?

Then that’s pretty sad and you’re a thirsty hoe.

He paused.

I need to stop having discussions with myself and start talking to actual people.

But he wouldn’t.

Instead, he created a playlist.

That was one of Yoongi’s pastimes, creating playlists. He created them for a variety of reasons, for relaxation, inspiration, to remind him of someone, and for whatever reason his somewhat successful encounter with Namjoon warranted a playlist. There wasn’t much yet, he put I’m a Freak by Radiohead on there and took it off when he remembered he wasn’t making a playlist about himself. After some pretty thorough deliberation, he had a whole whopping two songs on there. Wishing Well by the Gunpoets and The Enemy by Andrew Belle. He would continue to add songs as they hung out more so he didn’t stress over it. Good things come with time.

Besides, Namjoon liked Pierce the Veil. He really liked them. And they were one of Yoongi’s favorite bands. They actually spent a whole Thursday afternoon quoting their favorite lyrics to each other and he knew right then and there—they were going to be good friends.

And they really were. It happened gradually, but everyday Namjoon and Yoongi would hang out for maybe just a couple of hours. They were a good couple of hours too. They would each take turns playing their music, oddly enough they had similar tastes, and packing the bowl. It was a good arrangement. Not only that, it definitely cured Yoongi’s boredom and made their break start to fly by. Which could’ve been a good thing or a bad thing, depended on which one you asked.

Then, the storm came.

The storm itself wasn’t anything special, nothing more than snow and wind, but it knocked out the power. No big deal, except there was no power and that meant that there was absolutely nothing to do. Late at night, no lights, no computer, no music, nothing. Namjoon and Yoongi sat there dumbfounded while their marijuana riddled minds tried to grasp what just happened.

“Well shit.” Namjoon muttered first, supressing a cough. “This sucks.”

Yoongi fell back and groaned loudly. “This really sucks.”

“I know right?” Namjoon continued, using his phone as a light to peer into their mostly used up bowl. “We’re almost out too, I’m not nearly high enough for this.”

“Me neither.” Yoongi agreed when he was, in fact, stoned out of his mind. “What’re we supposed to do now?”

Namjoon narrowed his eyes at his phone. “I don’t know, my phone’s almost dead. What about yours?”

Lifting up his head, Yoongi grimaced. “We don’t speak of that thing.”

Namjoon scoffed. “I take it you didn’t like the new update.”

“Hell no.” Yoongi concurred, groaning louder still. “Do you have anything left to pack the bowl?”

He shook his head. “No. Besides, smoking it a lot less fun when there’s no music.”

“True.” Yoongi sighed. “Well—what’re we supposed to do?”

“We could discuss Aristotle’s position on goats—”

“No.” Yoongi cut him off. “We’re not debating some philosophical point right now. Philosophy hurts my sober brain and my stoned brain wants nothing to do with it—wait, did you say goats?”

Namjoon nodded. “He believed he could tell the gender of a goat by which way the wind was blowing.”

Yoongi couldn’t help it, he laughed. “This is what you’re learning in your philosophy classes?” Nod. “That’s crazy, those Greek dudes might not be so bad after all.”

“Really?” Namjoon beamed. “Because we could—”

“No.”

“But—”

“I said no.”

“Please—”

“NO.”

“Okay fine.” Namjoon finally admitted, pouting as he crossed his arms. “Then what do you suppose we do?”

Yoongi shrugged. “No clue. No laptop means no speakers, no speakers means no tunes, no tunes means no more grass for us. I would play for us but I pawned my guitar last semester for a term paper that I didn’t feel like writing. So no music.”

“You play guitar?” Namjoon asked. “I didn’t know that.”

“I play a little bit of everything.” Yoongi elaborated unenthusiastically. “Piano’s my forte but I couldn’t exactly fit a good keyboard in the dorms so I brought my guitar with me.”

“And then you sold it.”

“Pawned.”

“For a term paper.”

“Yup.” Yoongi reaffirmed with pride. “I skated through my prereqs thanks to bought term papers. I’m not ashamed of it.”

Namjoon’s eyes started swimming with curiosity, Yoongi could see those wheels turning. And he knew he wouldn’t like what was about to happen.

“What an interesting point.” He mused quietly, chin held between his fingers. “These courses aren’t necessary for your future, but you’re required to take them—”

I’ve unleashed the monster.

“—you’ve found a way around the situation by having other people write your papers. Which is, of course, against school policy and therefore you should be punished. But by not wasting your time on classes that hold no importance for you or your career you were able to accomplish more for yourself. How do we determine what is more important? Rules and regulations, or the promise of a better tomorrow?”

Namjoon’s question was met with an impermeable silence, which was what usually happened when he got all philosophical when Yoongi was in the room.

“Is that it?” Yoongi asked incredulously. “C’mon, get it out of your system. You know you want to.”

“Then we’d be here all night.” Namjoon chuckled. “And you wouldn’t like that.”

Yoongi shrugged nonchalantly. “Not necessarily.”

“Is that you admitting you like hanging out with me?” Namjoon teased.

“No.”

“I think it is.”

“It’s not.”

“Alright, whatever you say hyung.” Namjoon relented with a laugh. “So, what’re we going to do about this no music thing?”

Yoongi looked uninterested for the most part. “Beats me, probably nothing. You can sing to me if you want.”

“Now that’s funny.” He returned, checking his phone for the time. “I actually have a better idea.”

Curious, Yoongi propped himself up on his elbows and eyed Namjoon suspiciously. “Oh? Do tell.”

“What’re the odds that the security cameras are down across campus?” He asked. “Think they have a backup generator?”

“I mean maybe?” Yoongi offered halfheartedly. “Why? What exactly do you have in mind?”

Namjoon’s only response was a devilish grin. “You’ll see.”

Before Yoongi could question him further, Namjoon stood up abruptly and started pulling on layers. When he motioned for Yoongi to do the same, he did so without hesitation. Which, in hindsight, shouldn’t have been his immediate reaction but he was starting to learn that Namjoon had some sort of mystical power over him. In that Yoongi could tolerate him for extended periods of time without feeling the need to claw out his own ears. And that he actually felt happy until he realized that and instantly made himself unhappy.

I should stop doing that.

Once they were sufficiently bundled up they headed out into the cold. Yoongi followed Namjoon diligently across campus, dodging security cameras they weren’t entirely sure were even functional to wherever Namjoon was leading them. They passed the quarter, the girls dorms, and several other points of interest to—the music building of all places. Standing outside the locked door, Namjoon nodded his head towards it.

“You can pick locks right?” He asked, motioning towards the handle. “Work your magic maestro.”

Well, yes but how did you know that. Yoongi found himself wondering until he remembered that one time he broke into Mr Bang’s office to trash it in spite. While no one could prove it was him, everyone had their suspicions so he had a reputation no matter how small. Apparently Namjoon caught wind of it.

“Can I ask why we’re breaking into the music building?” Yoongi mused as he pulled out his tools, (he was always prepared).

“Well we’re going to get you a guitar.” Namjoon finally explained. “I figured this was the best place to find one.”

Yoongi let his hands fall to his side. “We’re seriously breaking into a locked facility on campus so we don’t lose our buzz? Either you’re more high than you look or you’re dumber than everyone thinks.”

“It could honestly be both.” Namjoon shrugged. “Now hurry up, the power could come back on any minute.”

Yoongi eyed him suspiciously but didn’t question him. He had no moral issues with what they were doing, he just had to wonder how much people actually know about Namjoon because he never would’ve pegged him for a burglar. First impressions were wicked things.

“Alright, that should be—” Yoongi started, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Clunk. “—it. After you, your majesty.”

Namjoon bowed gratefully as he grabbed the handle. “Why thank you.”

Chuckling, the two ducked into the building and headed towards the practice rooms. Usually instruments were left over break in case anyone left wanted to practice. There were a few music students still on campus, but they were all the classical musician types so the supply of violins and cellos were in high demand. Ratty old acoustic guitars were far less desirable and therefore there were a couple for Yoongi to pick from.

“Wait—holy shit!” Yoongi gasped, picking up a cherry red guitar and holding it in his hands. “No way, this is my guitar! What the hell is it doing here?”

“Maybe the guy you sold it to left it here?” Namjoon offered. “Was he a music student?”

Yoongi shook his head. “No, Liberal Arts, stoner. He just wanted to show off to his friends. There’s no way it would’ve been left here recently.”

“So it’s been here for a while then. Do you not practice often?” Namjoon asked. “Wouldn’t you have seen it?”

Yoongi pursed his lips as he admired his reclaimed treasure. “Not really. I’m in music production, I’m usually in the studio mixing together tracks that I produced.”

“Oh wow, you’ve produced music already?” He continued. “How old are you again?”

“This is my last year.” Yoongi mused without paying much attention to the question. “But yeah, I’ve produced a couple of albums. You can find them on Spotify along with the 80,000 playlists I’ve created.”

“Well shit.” Namjoon whistled. “That’s—that’s really impressive, hyung. I had no idea.”

Yoongi shrugged. “Not a lot of people do, I mostly keep to myself.”

“I know.” He sighed quietly. “I’m hoping that I can change that.”

Thump.

Wait, what did he say?

Before Yoongi could offer an unintelligent response, the power came back on. Simultaneously saving his from himself and making his blood pressure skyrocket.

“Oh shit.” Namjoon muttered. “Run!”

Without missing a beat the two bolted from the building, hoping that there was no one sitting in front of the monitors when the power came back on. They were halfway back to the dorms with guitar in hand, their cheeks flush from the cold wind, when they finally began to slow down. Huffing and puffing, they exchanged a couple of surreal glances before they burst out laughing in the middle of a snowstorm. Neither particularly caring that frost nipped at their exposed fingers (because fingerless gloves are cool).

Yoongi had to admit, Namjoon was pretty cool. And nothing like he expected. He was a whirlwind of contradictions, a happy medium between snob and stoner, something Yoongi had no idea even existed before he gave his roommate a chance. He was happy he did, because he liked hanging out with Namjoon. Liked making him smile, liked looking into his calming brown eyes. There was a lot that Yoongi liked about him, and the things he used to hate were mostly forgotten.

He liked Namjoon.

He liked him a lot.

Even if he didn’t realize it quite yet.

He actually realized it at about the same time Namjoon did.

It was Christmas, actually. They had already spent most of Christmas Eve trying to make joints into trees and both failed hilariously. Which neither really cared about, weed was weed and they liked it however they could get it. When Namjoon fell asleep Yoongi got back to creating another playlist, since it was his turn to play tunes the next day. Both agreed that Christmas songs were off limits because someone had rigged the intercom on campus to play I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus on loop for the past three days. They were getting sick of the holiday cheer.

So, there they were, lying down on Namjoon’s bed looking at the ceiling, Yoongi’s new playlist “brilliance is in the mind of the beholder” (all lower case because Yoongi didn’t believe in capitalism) filling their empty dorm with soft notes of melancholy and nostalgia. They passed a joint back and forth periodically, not really caring whether or not they got high and instead found themselves simply enjoying the music. It was nice.

“You’ve got good tastes, hyung.” Namjoon exhaled, passing the joint back.

Yoongi chuckled underneath his breath. “In music or in weed?”

“Both.” He concurred. “It’s a great combo.”

“Thanks.” Yoongi returned, taking a drag and letting the joint fall to his side. “Sorry you’re stuck with me on Christmas.”

Namjoon scoffed. “I’m not stuck anywhere, trust me. I like hanging out with you.”

“Same.” He agreed with a smile. “Glad you caught me smoking.”

“Thank you for smoking.” Namjoon nodded. “We wouldn’t be here without you.”

“Anytime.”

For a while after, neither of them said anything. Yoongi would periodically steal glances at Namjoon while he drummed his fingers against his chest to the music. When Namjoon really enjoyed music, he closed his eyes. He almost tuned out the whole world just so he could ride the soundwaves like an old road. Occasionally his lips would twitch into a grin or he would mouth along to the lyrics, maybe he would hum. But he would never sing, he insisted his singing voice was awful.

Yoongi wanted to hear it regardless.

Then, Namjoon tilted his head towards Yoongi and opened his eyes. The simple action was so surreal, so ethereal, Yoongi was speechless. He didn’t want to admit how often he stared into Namjoon’s eyes, but he couldn’t help it. They were so warm, so welcoming, he got lost in them time and time again. He was in a trance, one that was hard to snap himself from.

“Interesting song choice, hyung.” He suddenly muttered. “You trying to tell me something?”

Furrowing his brow, Yoongi had no idea what he meant. Taking another hit he tried to focus on the music, it was—it was—

Oh, kiss me beneath the milky twilight

Lead me, out on the moonlit floor

Lift your open hand

Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance, silver moon’s sparkling

So kiss me

Oh no.

His eyes opened wide with shock, the song that was playing was Kiss Me by Sixpence None the Richer, a cheesy song from the 90’s that had been in almost every romcom to date. Scrambling to his feet he pulled open the web player on his laptop and eyed the playlist. He—he didn’t mean to put that song on there.

He remembered his internal debate quite vividly, he was looking at the songs Kill Me on his computer and wondering which one he would add. There was Kill Me by The Pretty Reckless, a heavy metal song, pretty standard, not fantastic, and then there was Kill Me by Make the Girl Dance (a song he feels defines his personality perfectly) but neither really fit the aesthetic of the playlist. He remembered deciding on Kill Me by Christian Leave, another standard indie song that flowed with the rest. That’s what he wanted to put on the playlist.

So how did Kiss Me get on there?

Why do you have it in the first place?

Because I’m a basic bitch that likes sappy songs. Sue me.

I will.

“Sorry about that.” Yoongi tried to apologize, hoping that Namjoon didn’t get the wrong message. “I totally didn’t mean to put that on there, that’s my bad.”

“I think you did.” Namjoon disagreed. “All of the songs you played today were very—sappy.”

Yoongi arched an incredulous brow at him. “Wait—did I? I—I didn’t notice.”

“Love Lost by Temper Trap?” He started, sitting up and offering Yoongi a coy smirk. “Transatlanticism by Death Cab for Cutie? I need you so much closer? That lyric in itself is pretty telling.”

Oh no.

“Not to mention It Looks Like Love by Josh Rouse.” Namjoon continued. “If you were trying to send a message I’m reading it loud and clear.”

“I—I really wasn’t.” Yoongi insisted unconvincingly. “Those were just—they were just the songs I felt—I felt would be best for—oh fuck…”

I’m doomed.

I just confessed to Namjoon without even realized that there was anything to confess.

Or that I was confessing for that matter!

F U C K.

While Yoongi had a mild meltdown, Namjoon clucked his tongue and came up behind him. “It’s okay, no need to panic. C’mon, remember to breath.”

I’m trying really hard to forget though.

“Maybe this will help.”

He barely registered what was happened as Namjoon slowly turned around and leaned in closer. He felt something warm brush across his lips and he had to attempt to calm down in order to process what just happened. His brain was either screaming at him to focus or trying to rip itself apart, he wasn’t sure which it was so he was left wondering—

Wait, what did he just do.

Blinking past his panic, he looked up at Namjoon who in turn was looking down at him expectantly. Yoongi, who was having issues forming coherent thought, raised his finger to his lips. They were—wet. Warm. Which only meant one thing.

“Did you just—” He started, hesitating when he felt his voice begin to crack. “Did you just kiss me?”

Namjoon stifled a laugh. “Yeah, I did. Did you miss that?”

“Maybe…” Yoongi mumbled, his cheeks blossoming into a deep crimson. “Could you—could you do it again?”

“Do what again?” Namjoon teased. “I’m lost, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Kiss me beneath the milky twilight

Lead me, out on the moonlit floor

Lift your open hand

Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance, silver moon’s sparkling

So kiss me

“Kiss me…” Yoongi said so quietly he barely heard it himself.

“What was that?” Namjoon continued to torment him. “I didn’t catch that.”

So kiss me

“I said kiss me!” Yoongi blurted out, his blush creeping all the way down his neck. “Don’t make me say it again or I’m going to explode.”

Namjoon laughed easily, smiling down at Yoongi with affection. “Alright, alright. I can do that.”

So kiss me

This time when Namjoon closed the distance between them, Yoongi was hyper aware. He thought he was warm before but Namjoon proved to be even warmer. His lips were soft and sweet, he tasted like the box of chocolates they had stolen from the security office earlier that day, and that somehow made it that much more intoxicating. The sensation was exhilarating, one that made Yoongi’s knees weak when all of the blood rushed to his head.

Namjoon smiled against Yoongi’s lips and pulled away slightly. “Better?”

“Mmm…” Yoongi hummed happily, nodding lazily. “Yeah… can you do it again?”

So kiss me

[7deadlycinderellas]

If the summer of lives could just come again, ch16

A03 link

Over the Wall

Several moons into that year, Rowan stills in the middle of a sentence, and quietly says,

“I think we have a visitor.”

The visitor, causing Jon’s heart to leap into his throat with joy, turns out to be Ghost. Ghost, dragging a dead doe at that. Ygritte attacks the dead animal with a knife and gusto, and they all eat terribly well for several days, Jon scratching Ghost under the muzzle and feeding him the best bits.

And Ghost is excellent for making the caves warmer at night. Sometimes, he even lets them use him as a pillow.

He even allows Ygritte to do it. She pets his head idly.

One night, when Jon is resting his head on the opposite side of him she is, Ygritte quietly asks him.

“I suppose it would never have worked out. We’re just too different.”

Jon doesn’t respond, but it doesn’t really feel like a question.

“I wanted to see over the wall. I’d wanted that since I was a little girl. We saw it together. But it wasn’t enough. You still left me for them.”

“I did swear a vow.”

Ygritte exhales loudly.

“How long were you a crow?”

Jon thinks back, remembering when he took his vow, and the start of the great ranging.

“A little over a year.”

“Do you think any of them are still looking for you?”

Jon feels his insides twist. Sam, Sam would never quit, but he could be overcome. Commander Mormont, he would never willingly leave a man behind. Pyp and Grenn…

“Maybe a few...but I suppose most of them must think I’m dead.”

Ygritte’s silent for a long time, and eventually it’s Jon who breaks it again.

“Once whatever this is is done, I can take you over the wall again. I can show you the south.”

Ygritte sounds half asleep when she responds with,

“That better be a promise.”

Gilly and the other women spend the days up and about, marking on bits of parchment.

“None of us learned to read,” Gilly tells him, “But Rowan wants us to help her map the caves down here, and I can draw well enough.”

Mapping the caves is just one of the things Rowan does. Her and the others occasionally disappear for half a day, gathering something or another.

In the early days, she led him to the heart of the cave, where the corpse of the old weirwood lay, and where Rowan had planted the bulb of a new seedling.

“This was what I was traveling further south for, to find this little babe of a tree,” she tells them, gently petting the turned earth where it will reach upward for the sun.

Jon reaches into his jumbled memories of his last night with the others.

“My brother...he said the three-eyed Raven taught him to see through the weirwoods.”

Rowan nods.

“We fed him from the seeds of the weirwoods, and that allowed him to see through their wood. It was a poor choice.”

Jon tries to imagine Bran, who seems so small, so young, in his memory.

“You said because he was a child.”

Rowan shakes her head softly.

“Not just that. He was a human, and humans cannot carry the weight of the power these centuries old trunks bear. Even the humans gifted with what you call greensight are often afflicted with illness by it.”

Jon watches Rowan stand, and touch the dead roots.

“My name is not truly Rowan. The common tongue has no word so specific for the sound a rowan tree makes when caught in a summer storm. But our language does. We call it the True Tongue. This is the tongue shared by the children of the forest, the plants and animals and the soil of the earth.”

She looks at Jon, gently, like a grandmother might.

“The only human who is said to have ever understood the True Tongue was your ancestor Bran the Builder. He knew how to listen. This is what makes you special Jon Snow, you can speak, and you cal listen. I’m not going to teach you to see through the weirwoods, I’m going to teach you to talk to them.”

 King’s Landing

It’s just a normal, clear, sunny-but-cold day when Sansa touches Lady on the neck and slips into her skin.

She creeps through the Red Keep, quiet as a septa, neat as a maid, not even drawing the attention of a mouse.

Not even when she winds up outside the Small Council chambers. She doesn’t linger, doesn’t want to jinx this whole thing. Stannis and Renly have both lingered, seemingly lacking will to leave their brother’s side, even as their feuds rear their heads every other day.

It really does incense Sansa sometimes. Was this was raising her and Arya had been like, she wondered. Did Father and Mother fear that they would still be quarreling well into womanhood?

“It makes me sad,” Shireen had told her one day, out in the garden, The flowers had been dusted with snow, their petals beginning to wilt.

“Do you like living with your uncle?” Sansa had asked.

Shireen nods,

“He doesn’t pay a ton of attention to me, but he’s always light-hearted and up for a laugh. Father always went on and on about how irresponsible he was, but he’s always made sure I ate and went to my lessons…”

The younger girl trails off. Sansa had seen her speak kindly with Renly, and seemed happy spending time under Brienne’s guard, but she also saw the whisper of homesickness in her.

She recognizes it with ease, having gone through plenty.

It is Shireen she thinks of while Lady watches Renly attempt to defend his current lack of heirs.

It isn’t fair, not really, Sansa thinks to herself. She remembers the first day at court, when she’d caught a glimpse of Renly holding Loras Tyrell’s elbow that the truth had struck her like a lightning bolt.

Even Shireen had seen it, it seemed.

“I don’t think he likes ladies, well not like other men do,” Shireen had told her in confidence, “He was always quite kind to Lady Brienne, and many men can’t even muster that.”

But still, it was his house duty, she thought. And Stannis, on the other hand, could always be counted on to do his duty. Which must be why he’s here tending to his brother, even as he’s shouted and raged at on the regular.

She’s seen no sign of the red woman, to her relief.

She pulls herself out of Lady, when she hears someone call her name.

The voice turns out to be that of Lady Margaery, flanked behind by many of her own ladies. She is in the garden again, and Margaery is extending her hand to her.

“My apologies, my lady,” Sansa tells her, moving to lift her skirts and stand, “I’m afraid I was somewhere else for a bit there.”

“No offense taken, Lady Sansa,” Margaery replies, her smile seeming natural, though somehow still somehow painted on. “I was merely hoping to invite you to have tea with my grandmother and I.”

Sansa smiles, and allows herself to be lead.

She would be lying if she said she hadn’t been looking forward to see the old Queen of Thorns again. As the years had gone by, her appreciation of the acid tongue matriarch had only increased, along with her confusion as to her motives.

“Lady Tyrell,” she says, “It’s an honor.”

“Oh, dispense with the arse-kissing if you would, I feel I’ve had more than my share being back in this city.”

Yes, that was the Olenna Tyrell that Sansa remembered. She offers her wine and cheese, and she takes lightly of both.

“So,” Sansa starts, finishing a bit of soft goat cheese, licking her thumb, “is this just for pleasure, or did the two of you want something from me?”

The older woman nodded to herself, though it was her granddaughter who spoke up first.

“Well, you have lived here in the Red Keep for far longer than we have been at court. I imagine you’ve noticed my courtship of Prince Joffrey-”

As if anyone could miss it. Margaery was not subtle when she wanted people to notice her. As she called it ‘her courtship’, which she couldn’t imagine most proper ladies doing.

“-and I was hoping you might tell me about him. He has seemed gracious and gallant to me, but I imagine you know as I do, that men have the same carefully constructed masks we women do.”

“And we would like some insight,” Olenna interrupts, “Into why you, a lovely young maid yourself, seem to have no interest in him yourself.”

Sansa snorts softly, then meters her voice very carefully.

“Because he’s a jackarse that’s why. Met him years ago back home in Winterfell, first thing he did was insult my little sister.”

Her voice is casual, light.

“He likes to slap around his younger brother and sister too. I’ve seen him leave nasty bruises on both. “

Only a small fib. Myrcella had once confessed to Sansa that Joffrey hadn’t hit her since she had learned to stop reacting.

“Both of his uncles give him hell about it. I saw Lord Tyrion slap him once for a comment he made about my crippled younger brother. I’m rather fond of all of them, so I take their words over his. You have siblings, my lady, you must understand.”

At some point, Lady has quietly padded her way into the gardens, and sits by Sansa’s side. She pets the wolf on her head.

“And I am very thankful that Lady here hasn’t even caught his eye, if what poor Tommen said happened to his cat wasn’t just a tantrum.”

If he had ever tried it, Sansa thought, she’s not sure she would have stopped Lady from tearing his throat out this time.

Olenna snorts in response to her words though.

“If you’re assessment of the prince is accurate, than I wonder why wouldn’t tried to dissuade us.”

Sansa shrugs carefully, before meeting Margaery’s eye.

“If you think you can handle it, then who am I to tell you what to do? But you should be aware of what you’re getting into. Not just the prince, the Queen is a whole hornet’s nest herself.”

Sansa feels vaguely trapped inside. This whole game, the politics and the alliances. She had grown good at it, she knows, but she’s become so disdainful of it.

After she finishes her cup of sweet wine, she spies Tyrion walking into the garden and sitting at one of the tables they often played cyvasse on.

“If you’ll excuse my early exit, “ she tells Lady Olenna, standing and brushing off her dress, “Lord Tyrion beat me at cyvasse three days ago, and I believe I am owed a rematch.”

When she approaches the table, she notes Tyrion watching her out of the corner of his eye.

“Tired already of more quality company than me?”

Sansa shakes her head.

“Tired of being used as an unwitting informant.”

Tyrion raises an eyebrow. He has the cyvasse pieces out, and is playing with them idly, though not setting them up properly.  

“Seeking advice for the courtship of my dear nephew?”

Sansa smiles wryly. She glances back over at where Margaery sits, with her immaculate hair and gown. Tyrion interrupts her gaze.

“Seemed there was a time you would have wanted the exact place she is in now.”

Sansa laughs bitterly.

“I did. And that wish got me nothing but heartache, abuse and suffering. I was stupid. A stupid little girl with stupid dreams who learned too slowly to even protect herself from her own mistakes.“

Thinking of her younger self, how blind and easily led she had been, nearly makes her want to retch. She shakes the memory off, as she moves to set the cyvasse pieces up. They play nearly in silence until the sun is no longer high in the sky.

“Is it so awful though?” Sansa asks, breaking the silence, in an unusually small voice, “To want to be loved, to want it so much that you let yourself be blinded?”

“No,” Tyrion replies, fiercely, “I don’t think it’s awful at all. Everyone wants to be loved, even if no one admits it. And in my experience, it’s made a great many men and women commit very foolish acts.”

She won’t say to him, won’t admit even to herself, that she’s even sure she would know love anymore. That if it weren’t for her sister, she wouldn’t even be sure if she believed in it anymore.

There’s a flush over their conversation, and Sansa feels a strange warmth bloom in her chest. One she might recognize, if she reached far enough back in her memory.

It’s interrupted, when her father approaches, telling her it’s time for supper.

It’s a simple potato and leek soup tonight, rich with cream and brightened bacon. Over it, Sansa hopes her father won’t bring up the subject she’s been avoiding since they arrived here nearly three years ago.

“You seem quite fond of Lord Tyrion,” he begins, “Any particular reason why?”

Sansa nods softly. She no longer thinks there’s a point in hiding this.

“He was my first husband.”

Ned stares, seeming not to know which word to latch onto. Sansa chuckles. It’s really ridiculous in hindsight.

“It was Tywin Lannister’s handiwork, meant to keep control of the North. We both objected loudly, but didn’t have a leg to stand on to refuse, but we tried to be kind to each other at least.”

She swallows, bitterly.

“I was fourteen, and in retrospect, our complete farce of a marriage was the closest thing to a reprieve I had while I was stuck here, and then…” she trails off, still unsure how to explain the next part, “I didn’t see him for nearly four years, but when we saw each other again, it was the strangest thing...it was almost like we were friends.”

Ned finally cuts her off, with a question.

“You said he was your first-”

Sansa ducks her head, so he will not see her face.

“My second was Ramsey Bolton. He was...not kind.

Ned’s expression of horror is all she needs. She shakes her head roughly again, changing the subject as fast as she can before more questions come.

“Anything new with the council today?”

“Stannis got a raven from the Wall,”

That gets Sansa’s complete attention.

“Who’s in charge now?”

“Alliser Thorne,”

She groans internally. Jon’s words on the man had not been kind. Not that Jon was even there now.

“He’s asking for more men, because wildlings have been attacking the outposts regularly. They sent them to all the Lords.”

Sansa rubs her forehead.

“And of course, Stannis is the only one to take the request seriously.”

Sansa wishes Shireen’s death wasn’t such a black mark on Stannis’s life. That his willingness to follow Melisandre so fanatically hadn’t besmirched him so. He was one of the only men in Westeros who truly seemed to consider the needs of the Realm.

Even before that, she muses, he also killed his own brother, so maybe she was being too generous.

Stannis’s actions end up being overshadowed anyhow.

It’s the middle of the year when Balon Greyjoy dies.

Sansa groans deeply when she learns. This is going to be a mess. She doubts Yara will be able to gather any sort of support without Theon to back her up, so somehow she thinks Euron will end up in charge again. She sends a raven, one of Bran’s that she’s been letting rest on a perch in her chambers and rest, back to Winterfell to try and see if Theon had said anything on the matter at all.

Theon had kept Balon in line, but she doubts Euron has any sort of similar loyalty.

It distracts her though, and she blames that distraction for why she lets someone sneak up on her early the next morning, when she’s down at the training yard.

Thankfully, it’s just Brienne.

“Didn’t take you for an archer, my lady.”

Sansa shrugs her off,

“It’s just for fun. Daughter of one of my father’s friends was a great archer. I thought she looked so elegant doing it. So I asked her to teach me.”

Elegant is pushing it. Sansa might describe Meera in her element as having a sort of wild grace, but she’s not sure she would ever call it elegance. But she is a young woman, with thoughts only of gowns and games, and so she admires elegance.

“For fun? Pulling a longbow takes nearly a hundred pounds of force.”

Sansa laughs, trying to sound blithe. She looses her arrow, and hits the target she has set up. It hits close to the edge, but it’s set further away than she’s set them before.

“You’re assigned to guard Lady Shireen, right? Is she about already?”

Brienne shakes her head.

“The girl is a bit of a late sleeper, and I felt the need for some early morning air before resuming my duties.”

Sansa sets down her bow and sits on one of the brick columns that line the ends of the walkway.

“How is she? I remember when I came here for the first time, I felt so alone.”

“She is..coping. Like she always has. She didn’t have many other young people for friends in Storm’s End, or from her stories, before either.”

Brienne frowns as she continues speaking.

“I fear she may always feel out of place just because of how she looks. I feel coming here, with all the power and attention may only make it worse.”

“This city isn’t a very good place for anyone,” Sansa ruminates, playing with the feather on the end of her bow.

What about you? She thinks, but doesn’t say. Here, Brienne looks the role of a knight, even if she will still insist she is not. She spends her days guarding a defenseless girl for no personal gain, and she will still deny it.

And she has no idea who she would have become.

Joffrey and Margaery announce their engagement halfway through the year. Ned spends the back half of the year with his head between his hands trying to get a grasp on the plans.

“Robert’s not going to make it to the end of the year,” he admits one day during supper.

Sansa purses her lips as she sips her soup.

“I didn’t think so. He looks awful.” Robert’s whole body has become swollen, and despite his famous appetite, he rarely eats anymore.

“I can’t help but feel that planning a lavish wedding while his father dies is in poor taste.”

“He will be king,” Sansa considers, “maybe he wants his reign to start with a celebration. Or maybe Robert wants to see his eldest wed before he passes.”

Ned shakes his head.

“I still can’t wrap my head around Joffrey being king. He doesn’t pay a lick of attention in small council meetings, and on the occasion he does, he lashes out and suggests violence for nearly every issue.”

“He will be an awful king,” Sansa agrees, “But I don’t expect he will be king long.

He probably won’t be murdered at his wedding this time, she thinks, or at least if he is, Sansa doesn’t think she will be the tool of poison. She hasn’t received any unexpected gifts anyway. The Iron Islands are in flux, something tells her Stannis still has his doubts about Joffrey’s parentage, and Littlefinger is still manipulating things (his own wedding to Lysa has just been announced).

And, barring all of that, Varys spoke quietly to her once about the songs of his birds from overseas. The thought of Joffrey being eaten by a dragon does give her a certain sense of satisfaction.

‘You don’t imagine Joffrey will want to keep you as his Hand though do you?” she asks out of the blue.

Ned’s words are rough,

“I can’t imagine. The boy dislikes me, his mother dislikes me more, and they’ve both been vocal about it.”

“Perhaps, once his graces passes, then we’ll be able to go home.”

It’s the only hope they have to hold on to, as the wedding draws near.

Sansa’s not in a good mood the day before. Aside from her general distaste for weddings, she has also just got the raven telling her that she was going to miss Arya’s...again.

Ned is at least as upset about that as she is.

“At least there are still four more of you.”

Sansa is quiet for a long time, then suddenly interjects,

“Robb was married. No one was there but Mother. I don’t even remember his wife’s name. She was from Volantis, I think. None of us got to meet her. The three of them all died the same day.”

Ned reaches out and touches the back of her neck. The gown she’s dressed in for the wedding is a light gray, with long sleeves and a full skirt. She’s tall enough at seventeen that she can now look him straight in the eye.

She stands beside him during the ceremony, and he watches her eyes drift over most of the room.

Joffrey and Margaery say their words, and Ned and Sansa try their best not to roll their eyes.

There are performers after, but scanning the crowd, Sansa lets out a sigh of relief, seeing only one dwarf. The pigeon pie doesn’t choke anyone.

Sansa quietly sips at her wine, and watches.

At one point in the evening, she sees Ned take a sip from Robert’s goblet, and wince. Pycelle is accompanying the King, who is barely holding himself upright. He has not eaten or drank anything at all during the festivities.

“I’ve never tasted anything that strong, I’m almost frightened where he found it,” Ned comments, off hand. Sansa wonders at his words.

Time comes for the bedding. Sansa notices Shireen looking a bit apprehensive, and so grabs her hands and the two of them linger at the back of the mob of women.

“Trust me, you don’t want a hand or eyeful of any of that,” she assures the girl.

The dancers and celebrators still linger in the hall. Sansa notices Cersei still at the high table, seemingly quite drunk. That’s a mess she wants no part of either.  

Her and Shireen sit alone, sipping lightly from one cup of wine.

"Do you like it here at all?" Sansa finally asks her.

Shireen shrugs.

"I like meeting other people. I like seeing things happen even if I can't be involved. Renly told me when he was helping me get my gown and everything for the ball last year that it was a shame a girl like me had been kept from the world for so long."

"Aren't people sometimes mean to you though?"

"Of course they are, but they don't matter. Maybe in this life I'll be alone, but that's why I like my books and stories. That's I think what I'd like to do with my life. I want to write stories, whether they're real or not."

Sansa sees in her eyes a touch of resentment, she figures for her parents having kept her trapped for so long.

And slowly, and very quietly, she asks her.

"If I told you a story, a very complicated one, could you keep it to yourself, whether you believed it or not?"

Shireen looks at her oddly.

"I wouldn't tell a soul."

And just like that, Sansa has another confidant.

It feels like things should change all at once, but it still somehow happens slowly.

It’s a few days after the wedding, while guests are beginning to leave. Sansa is wandering the halls, again in Lady, when she comes upon Cersei leaving the royal apartments, with an empty bottle.

Sansa-in-Lady takes a moment to heel behind a statue in the hall, when Littlefinger comes in her direction.

He barely even stops upon encountering Cersei, he merely nods in her direction.

“Such a shame it is,” he says, eyes on the bottle, “For a man to be leveled by something he loved so much.”

And Sansa finds herself slipping out of Lady’s head, a heavy sensation causing her stomach to sink.

Of course it wouldn’t be hard, the way Robert drank, to spike his cups even more heavily. Even if someone were drinking first from his cups, they wouldn’t likely notice.

A death he may have brought on himself, hastened by someone who desperately wanted him gone.

A death that comes barely a moon after his eldest son’s wedding.

“I have to make funeral arrangements,” Ned tells her that evening, when the are sitting and talking, “And arrange for Joffrey’s coronation.”

“And after that?”

Ned sighs. It seems to be his primary vocalization now.

“After...we’ll find out.”

Sansa stares out the window in her chambers that night. It’s a deep, dark, clear night, and the raven for winter flies through.