#getting my phone taken is da worst

[caprinetalisman]

My grandma is taking my phone for idk how long for missing the bus :/ all my sideblogs will probably not post for a while!!!! So yeah </3 probably a week or a few days I hope

[brain-deadx0]

Virgil's Origin

Summary: How Patton ended up with Virgil in New Big Brother

Warnings: child abandonment, hypothermia, hospitals, let me know

Note: Would've finished this a while ago but unfortunately the original got wiped from existence somehow and I didn't have the energy to rewrite it after that. But now I do! So ta-da! Child endangerment!

Ao3

-

Patton smiled as he drank the last bit of hot chocolate from the bottom of the cup.

As the snowflakes falling around him grew bigger and the wind blew colder he was, admittedly, beginning to regret walking all the way to the café for a cup, but they had the best hot cocoa.

He snuggled deeper into his coat as he began to look for a garbage on the walk back to his apartment. He thought about calling Janus when he got home, he had only moved back out of his older brother's house recently and Janus was… struggling. Not that he wanted anyone to know.

Another biting gust of wind and snow coated glasses caused Patton to stop for a brief moment.

He quickly cleared the snow away and happened to catch sight of a dumpster in the alley next to him. Patton smiled at the small bit of luck before walking over.

Patton lifted the lid to toss his empty cup in, but as he went to close it something caught his eye.

Amongst the black bags was what looked to be a balled up old towel. He wouldn't have thought much of it had he not seen the small fingers poking out of the folds.

Patton felt a new surge of cold as the blood seemed to freeze in his veins. He braced himself for the worst as he moved some of the towel to reveal the baby's face. He cried as he carefully pulled the bundle out of the dumpster. What was one supposed to do in this situation? He- he should call the police right?

Just as he was about to reach for his phone the bundle shifted ever so slightly.

A spark of hope and fear rushed through him as he quickly pulled off his glove and placed a finger by the baby's nose. By some miracle he felt a small whisper of breath against it.

Without thinking Patton pulled the baby closer and ran into the street.

He nearly cried harder when a car pulled over almost immediately at his frantic waving.

"Everything alright?" The person asked after partially rolling down their window.

"Please I need to get to the hospital!" Patton blurted, "I found a baby in the dumpster and I think they're dying."

The person quickly unlocked the doors and told Patton to get in.

As they sped to the hospital, Patton unzipped his thick coat and carefully placed the bundle inside and held it close.

The minutes it took to get to the hospital felt like hours as Patton's heart pounded in his ears. He barely waited for the car to stop in front of the hospital before jumping out and rushing inside.

Within seconds of telling the nurse what was going on the baby was taken away and rushed deeper into the hospital leaving Patton standing alone in the middle of the lobby.

It wasn't long however before the receptionist came over and asked him if he'd be willing to fill out some paperwork before the police came.

A few minutes later the person who had driven him walked in and asked about what happened. They apologized for not being able to stay with him but asked to exchange numbers so they could find out what happened.

When he sat down to wait for news he decided he should probably call his brother.

"Hello?"

"Janus?"

"Patton, what's wrong?" Janus asked at the clear distress in his voice.

"I'm at the hospital."

"Are you alright, what happened?" Janus asked quickly as he moved around on the other end of the phone.

"I'm alright I'm not hurt I promise." Patton told him, "I really wanted some hot chocolate but I didn't want to make it so I went to that nice café down the road but-but on the way back," Patton sniffled as he remembered the baby's freezing skin when he held it.

"I'm on my way," Janus said from the other end, "I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Ok," Patton told him before looking up at the door, "I gotta go now though the police are here."

He vaguely registered Janus’s concerned voice as he hung up the phone.

…

Janus did his best to stay calm as he carefully made his way to the hospital. Patton was ok. He said so himself. Janus was the only one in the car right now and the boys were safe at the neighbors house. Today would be fine.

Everything would be fine.

…

"Patton!" A very relieved voice called.

Patton looked over to see Janus rushing through the door, "Janus?" He glanced at the clock and confirmed it hadn't been long since he'd called, "Did you drive here?! Are you ok?"

"Yes well I didn't have much choice considering my little brother called saying he was at the hospital and the police were coming." Janus snapped.

"Sorry, it's just…"

Janus took a deep breath, "I know, I'm sorry, it's… I'm just still on edge from the drive. Now will you please tell me what's going on?"

"Mr. Sanders." A nurse called.

"Yes?" Patton asked quickly.

"The baby's stable now. Would you like to see him?"

"Yes," he said with a relieved sigh, "Please."

As they followed the nurse through the halls Patton explained what happened.

"- I went to throw my cup away and he was just there." He told Janus, "I thought for sure it was too late, but then he moved a bit and…"

Janus put a comforting hand on his shoulder and Patton leaned into it.

"He's in the incubator right now to be safe but you're welcome to reach in if you like." The nurse told them.

Patton felt tears spring to his eyes again as he looked at the small body laying in the box. He was so tiny.

Patton barely breathed as he carefully opened the small window and stuck his hand inside. For the first time since finishing his cocoa a warm feeling spread in his chest when the baby's tiny fingers wrapped tightly around his own.

"Hi, baby." He whispered.

As if in response he felt the small hand squeeze his finger slightly.

-

Janus watched his brother stare at the bundle as if breathing too hard would cause them to shatter, he could guess what would happen next.

"Janus." Patton practically breathed.

Janus looked between Patton and the infant before sighing, "I'm not a family lawyer, Pat."

"I know-"

"But," Janus held up a finger, "I will see what I can do."

Patton smiled and probably the only thing keeping him from tackling him right then and there was the little hand attached to his.

Janus smiled and put a hand on Patton's shoulder. He was still a bit angry about the uninformative phone call, but that could wait.

Later he would make some calls and see if one of his friends in social services could help. But for now he just wanted to sit with his brother.

He supposed he was an uncle now.

[ambitionsource]

hi!! I can't believe it's taken me this long to send an ask but I finally figured out how sksfjkhjk so as it's the festive season what are the main cast's best and worst Christmas (or in farkle's case Hanukkah) presents they've ever had?

So clearly it's no longer festive season (lol) but I am trying to be better about being active on here as we continue S4 so!! Apologies!!

I don't know that I could say one definitive answer for either (the spectrum of good and bad gifts is so long and so filled with variety, not to mention our feelings about a gift can change over time i.e. Farkle's initial prickly reaction to the nameplate from his dad that he now regards affectionately), but a sampling for each perhaps...

RILEY

Best: I would bet money this honor goes to Dylan, who probably got her something super sweet and thoughtful and so her for Christmas senior year after they'd been actual friends for a while and it was one of the first gifts in years where Riley actually felt Seen by the person and like they actually understood her as a person and that forever made it a lifelong winner. Even if it was just something like, a homemade / decorated frame with a photo from the RL DA summer road trip and then a friendship bracelet with her favorite colors. It's the thought, not the object, that makes a difference. Worst: Positive this dishonor goes to Topanga, who probably got her like, a book or set of inspiration cards specifically geared towards building her confidence which is a nice sentiment in theory but considering Topie is always openly being like lol Riley my sweet dumb doormat daughter, more passive-aggressive and critical than a ha ha sort of reception.

FARKLE

Best: This isn't a holiday gift, but I do think Farkle was really moved when Isa gave him that photo of the two of them from elementary school that they found in Val's things. He probably keeps that thing tucked in the pages of P&P with his unsent love letter. On the other hand, I do think Isa's actual secret snowflake gift from 406 is also a strong contender -- otherwise, it was probably like a set of Broadway show tickets to a show he really wanted to see in middle school from his dad which was one of the few times early on there where he felt like Stuart was really actually listening to him rather than trying to mold him into someone else. Worst: No doubt in my mind this goes to Uri, because he's a little punk. He probably got Farkle like... a set of mechanical pencils for Hanukkah one year or just something where it's clear he forgot and just stepped into CVS on the way home from school to grab something. And he had no shame about it either. Honestly you have to hand it to him.

MAYA

Best: Maya is really easy to please, honestly, since she's a rather material girl and sentimentality doesn't Necessarily do much for her. So Farkle probably holds this honor for getting her something expensive and pretty LOL. But I do think she would appreciate every single gift her mom has given her, especially since she knows how little Katy had to work with but that she still tried so hard. Worst: Her absent af dad probably sent her like a super generic ass gift one year when she was little that showed just how little he knew about her as a person and from that point on, Maya understood that she'd rather not get anything at all than receive something that was clearly phoned in and not picked specially for her.

ISA

Best: Again, this honor probably goes to Dylan due to him being a good gift-giver and attentive best friend -- probably something small and silly junior year that meant a lot to Isa due to how hard everything was at that time and that he still took the time to give it to them in spite of that. Another potential winner would be Eric, who I'm sure probably gives great gifts and would be sure to do his best to give Isa something they'll actually use and appreciate. Worst: One year Val probably sent them a box set of like, their greatest hits CD signed and Isa was like. Fuck this and threw it into the gutter outside their foster home LMAO. Oh Val...

ZAY

Best: I think Zay has a lot of friends who get him and would get him good stuff, and that's great, but I do think all things considered he's a man of action rather than material. So I do think in 205, when he tells Charlie that him showing up at his door to meet his parents having driven all the way there despite his driving anxiety was the best gift he could've given him was true. Zay can accumulate objects all his life with varied amounts of meaning -- seeing a demonstration of how much someone loves him through action, even if they can't articulate it verbally yet, even when it's hard, when it becomes so clear that they are Trying... that's priceless. Worst: Before he told them he's dyslexic, in freshman year Nigel gave Zay something Shakespeare related based on the fact that they had a really good conversation about Romeo & Juliet in English as project partners. In fact that probably helped prompt Zay to be like okay if they're my besties I should actually tell them about this lol... Nigel probably just got that regifted back to him from Zay the next year HAHAHA. He tried.

CHARLIE

Best: Outing myself as a continued ZC fanatic in that I really do think the sweatshirt Zay gave him in 205 is the best gift he's ever received. Both because of the immense sentiment (and romance) behind it, but also because have you seen how much use he's gotten out of it??? It's got romantic form AND function. Not to mention it's like a damn security blanket now for him... like how are you supposed to beat that? Runner-up though goes to the gift Lucas gave him for secret snowflake with the mentions on Chubbies receipts... that was some next level thoughtfulness (also outing myself as a Larlie truther). Worst: I can't even begin to fathom what this would be but I'm certain, positive, without a doubt in my mind that Ambrose and Eleanor had to have given him something so extremely heteronormative and heterosexual at some point in the last five years highlighting their high expectations for him to find the perfect wife and have the perfect Catholic nuclear family and I am sure that made him want to die, particularly if it happened early in high school when he was still denying his sexuality to himself but also Knew in his heart. I also would like to die.

LUCAS

Best: This will sound pathetically tragic but I honestly think any gift that his friends have given him in the last couple years could count, because he traditionally doesn't celebrate these holidays due to his upbringing. However, I think Dylan and Asher pulling together the techie party and bringing it to his home for him and Grace to enjoy in 205, despite his shitty behavior and attitude, probably has to be the winner. Like... that's love. That's unconditional love. :') Worst: Remember how I mentioned Maya learned that getting nothing is usually better than getting something you don't want? Well, let me just say I'm sure Kenneth has given Lucas something on Christmas at least one year in his childhood that he absolutely did not want and leave it at that.

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

GH2024 by waterparks is a ford song, lyrics below cut (this song. is a ride and a half. from what ae can tell, it's a mix of new lyrics and segments taken from some of their other songs)

'last night, i had the strangest dream of all. last night, i had the strangest dream of all. last night, i had the strangest dream of all. last night, i had the strangest dream of all. last night, i had the strangest dream of all...'

'oh, my demons drive a limo straight up to my window. i hide under my pillow. welcome to the intro. step into the moonlight, climb into my bad night, everything is alright, oh. step into the moonlight, me, myself, and i play a little game called hide and sleep all night because-'

'i...see shadows on my walls, they see me from the halls (soul, star). and i don't know just what they want, but i'ma knock 'em down, down, down, like 'what's up'. everything gets fuzzy when you come around (what, what, what's up), everything gets fuzzy when you come around'

'you freak me out, so i stay in. do you see me now? do you have my pin? no, i don't know how you'll show up or when, but it freaks me out. i say, 'boy, i'm not a stalker, but i watch you when you're walking', there's eyes up in my closet, hands deep in my pockets, 'i love you in such weird ways, follow you back to your place'. yeah, you'd be paranoid, too, if someone followed you the way that you do, you do'

'now you're looking through the peephole on the door of my apartment, my panic's at the ceiling, but i'm flat down on the carpet. you say, 'boy, i know you're in there, and the way you tease is unfair, and this ain't misery, but i'd break your knees to keep you here with me. but i'd break your knees to keep you here with me. break your knees to keep you here with me, yeah''

'maybe the world was made in six days, but i could ruin mine by monday. i'll write it on the wall, 'if you read this, it's your fault'. yeah, you've been reading all about me, and you're loving what you found. i'm like american graffiti, if you need me, i'm here now...ahem [and repeat]'

'when i fall asleep at night, i wish my brain could sneak away, increase my pace and hop the gate, and travel to another plane. first i'd find my evil twin, then i would make best friends with it, we'd both hate the same things and waste some hours talking shit, then we could write some songs- benji's so impressed! we'd complete each other's lines because our stupid brains connect. but because of that, our serotonin would crash at approximately the same time and we would both need a nap, god damn-'

'sunbathe, looking like a sunday, wishing for a someday, i could run away like that. now, i think i need a life or maybe nine, 'cause i'm feelin' like i'm runnin' out of time, oh-oh. some day, maybe on a sunday, i can sit and sunbathe, i could run away like that. now, i think i need a life or maybe nine, 'cause i'm feelin' like i'm runnin' out of time, oh-oh'

'it doesn't happen at all, it doesn't happen at all (wait, what song was next?)- i wish i was dead sometimes so i wouldn't have to check my phone. i wish i was dead sometimes, so i could spend a day alone. and not feel like everybody hates me, making plans on another planet daily, lately, i wish i was dead sometimes, ahaaaaaaaaahahah, i'm just kidding! (fuck!)'

'i packaged up my pain today, i wrapped the box in cellophane. it's clear so i can see inside, to watch the worst of me escape. but i like your apartment, i like how your hair smells, it buries all my problems, until i forget the details. that's all i can talk about without hurting your feelings. so check out all the love i get, it's fake and doesn't happen at all...and doesn't happen at all...i'll see you in the future, yeah, you can find me in the rumors, yeah, that's all, that's all'

'i just cried into a shirt i could never afford last year, yeah. my drake problems sound thoughtless, but it's all brand new and i promise i'm being really honest, when i'm getting up the guts to say that i haven't had a day off since my blue hair and i combat how the pressure feels, i should call my parents more just to say that i'm gonna be okay, so they don't worry every day- i like cool shirts, i like cold rings, i want a big house, but i'm hiding, i want a brain that doesn't hate me, i wanna see my stupid fucking friends daily-! if you need me, now, i'll be there somehow. i'll pick you up, we can ride. i'll fly away like i bought my own airline, i'll take you with me, we can ride'

''cause i'm highkey and lowkey as hell. your diva, just wanna see you, i'm highkey and lowkey as hell. your sweetheart, don't wanna be apart. so, practice your passion on me, give me your hundred degrees, i'll die off whenever you need. 'cause i'm highkey and lowkey as hell. your diva, just you wanna see you, i'm highkey and lowkey as hell. your sweetheart, don't wanna be apart...'

[davidpwilson2564]

Bloglet (11-12)

Saturday, May 11, 2024

Pleasant weather. Walking and errands.

An email re ABT (I am still on their list). The annual gala will be held at a restaurant instead of the Met Opera House. They will use taped music. Much unhappiness in the orchestra about this. Orchestra members urged to show up and hand out leaflets.

Trump's day off from court. Goes to huge hate rally in Wildwood, NJ. Tells his loving fans that Biden is a moron, the worst president ever, to blame for all the legal troubles, etc. Calls Alvin Bragg (N Y DA) "Fat Albert" much to the delight of his fans. Leads them in an obscene chant. Same old routine. But could have been much worse because that gag order is in place and he cannot say nasty things about the people he'll face in court. Donny hasn't picked a running mate yet. Says: wait for it. The showman at work. The best show in town. These are his people: the Jersey Shore crowd.

Sunday, May 12, 2024

Mothers Day.

Note: A further note re that ABT gala with taped music. Part of our contract (which I helped draw up) stated that our orchestra be used for any performances within a hundred mile radius. I remember this was enforced, once. There was a New Years gig in Newark. (I couldn't make it. I was with the Long Island Phil that night.) Funny to think of handing out leaflets...hmm. This would be bad, people are lining up in all their finery to get their photograph taken. They don't want to be snapped holding a leaflet. (One envisions those leaflets falling on the red carpet.) Too weird.

I go to Queens. See Kenichi and his family. Nice to see the grandkids. Kenichi helps me with my new phone (the learning curve). He later drops me off at the train. A police presence near the stadium at Forest Hills. Must be a rock concert. The locals don't like this. The bands really crank it up, causing their windows to rattle.

Home. A drink. I have gotten through another week.

to be continued

[danaxbe]

the unseen scene

a last minute lime entertainment audition tape. jk dance studio. dance ref: greedy by ariana grande - dana surprises herself by auditioning the prestigious entertainment company, lime entertainment.

She knows she really shouldn’t(whether that’s the insecurity or the bitterness talking is anyone’s guess). She knows her reasoning, at first hadn’t been the most genuine, and really that’s enough to make her hesitate for the longest time before being convinced by new-found friends she even had a shot in the first place. And even then, it had taken a week of sitting in, her legs going numb from sitting on the hardwood floor her classmates were practicing until their muscles ached to even really get the idea somewhat planted in her head. It wasn’t that different from performing anyway, except– it was entirely different. The idol life isn't simply a dance recital, or a gym meet. It wasn’t performing at a football game, or stepping on stage for some dramatic theatrical number. No, being an idol was something else entirely. So many of her friends had been practicing for years just to get one but hopefully both feet through the door. Of course, it hadn’t been too entirely successful, considering they were trying despite all the rejections, they were here auditioning for lime entertainment. She knew they were a big company, and actually, she liked a lot of their stuff. 

Really, it’s her older sibling that slips up over the dinner they manage to make time for with their parents. This time, the younger one is present too, for once he didn’t have lessons to attend. And as usual, it’s a normal dinner, one that is filled with talks about the future and how classes and/or work is going. 

And then she says it. 

It seems like the rejection is just another day really, as if her older sister isn’t used to everyone fawning over her skills. While she manages to put up one hell of a front, one that has the rest of her family fooled, there’s a way Dana’s stomach tightens at the fact that for once, it was her sister being looked over, and not her. She can tell that she isn’t too happy about it by the way she pushes the peas more onto the plate rather than onto her fork. 

For once. For once, there’s something that her older sister can’t do, and it makes her heart thump in her chest. 

That had been her initial reasoning for hopping up one late evening, seeing them go through a basic combination instead of sitting and half- playing on her phone. The moves aren’t entirely too difficult, but the style is different, and even after everyone is gone, she finds herself having ‘one’ more go at it… which quickly turns into several. 

Now she sits in front of the camera, shaking her hands out in an attempt to maybe shake some of the nervousness she had felt. She had been practicing like crazy for the last week, and she’s not quite sure why. It wasn’t like anyone really knew she was auditioning anyway; her own little personal secret. That way, if she failed… it wouldn’t be like anything changed; she wouldn’t see her sister roll her eyes or hear her mother’s disappointed but not surprised sigh. Life would be just like it is now. 

It was likely they’d probably see a million different dancers, but she knew that would be without a doubt the best skill to showcase. She may not be the most powerful dancer out there, but she was fluid, with flexibility, and a love for rhythm that had been rediscovered in this need to prove herself. 

What’s the worst thing they can say? No? 

Yes. 

“Hi there, I’m Dana Kang, I’m currently 19 years old, and I’ll be turning 20 on the first of October. I’m from San Diego, California, but my family has recently relocated to Seoul, and I’m currently studying at Yonsei University, where I’m studying engineering.” Dana takes a deep breath, putting on a soft smile. “As a trainee of Lime Entertainment, I think I could bring a few things to the industry, but I definitely think one of things would be… freshness. I’ve been told my dance style is rather unique, and a nearly blank slate, I think I’m extremely adaptable. I’ve done a little bit of everything, from sports to choir and cheer, and I’ve always been a hard-worker. I would love to see what freshness and brightness I can bring to your company. I’ll be dancing to an original piece now, and thank you so much for watching.” 

There’s a hair flip, then, backing up several steps before she’s at the stereo, and pressing play. Instantly, there’s a game face on. The song is fun, not too serious, and while she knows there’s not a million acrobatics or turns to play here– she’s hoping that it was a good showcase of not only where she was starting, but all the possibilities. She’s got long limbs, flexibility, and she’s hoping for at least decent stage presence on her side. She only goes twice, making sure not to look tired at the end, and finishing off with a ninety degree bow before the camera shuts off. 

[kpopfanfictrash]

Raise the Barre (Epilogue)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Creative Contributor: @baebae-goodnight​ for the last Raise the Barre moodboard TT she nailed it

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU

Warnings: sexual content. Dry humping, fingering, hand job, oral (female), breast play, multiple orgasms, Jimin gets turned on by making someone else come, dirty talk. Jimin’s pants are tight.

Word Count: 13,409

Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.

Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.  

“And… more pointe shoes,” you said, opening the box in your lap. “Wow. Thanks, mom and dad.”

Your dad laughed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “You’re welcome, kiddo,” he said, nodding from the couch. “I know Russet gives you some already, but you can never have too many.”

“Out of curiosity.” You glanced at the tree. “Are there any boxes from you which aren’t related to dance?”

“Not related to dance…” Your mom pretended to think. “I don’t understand.”

“Mom!”

She laughed. “I’m kidding! Yes, there are other presents. You just happened to pick all the pointe shoe boxes first.”

Shaking your head, you placed the box aside. You smiled though, warmth in your chest at being home for the holidays. Classes at Russet had ended a week prior and it had been nice for a few days to simply relax. Already though, you found yourself itching to return to the city. It was strange to wake every morning and not head to ballet. It was even stranger to take classes at your old studio, trying to stay in shape before second semester began.

Playing with the string of your sweatpants, you couldn’t help glancing at your phone on the couch. It had been several days since you’d last seen Jimin in person. Oddly enough, the separation had been harder than you’d thought it would be.

Immediately after ending things with Finn, you and Jimin had tried to keep your distance. The pain of your separation had been too fresh to even consider dating someone else but, as time had gone on, you and Jimin had started becoming friends again.

It was hard not to be, with Jimin continuing as your dance partner and classmate. At the end of the semester, you’d had the opportunity to switch partners, but you and Jimin had chosen the status quo. It just made sense this way; you couldn’t think of anyone else you’d trust as much as him.

At first, things between you were strictly professional. You saw him only within the confines of the dance studio but eventually, his presence bled into your normal life. At first, the outings were small. Jimin went to a pregame you also attended. He saw you once at the coffee shop and, instead of running away, he stopped to chat. One time, he walked you back to your dorm.

When the month became December, you found your outlook improving. Most of November had been spent wallowing in your dorm, but the holiday season brought with it endless activities. The very first weekend of the month, a bunch of your Russet friends decided to go ice skating and you’d ended up tagging along.

The biggest problem had been you’d never ice skated before. Noelle had been patient, skating backwards in front of you and dragging you around the rink. Jimin had done the same thing for Hoseok, who was in a similar predicament to yours, and at some point, they swapped partners and left you skating with Jimin.

When he’d taken over for Noelle, your stomach had swooped. Hands touching, he’d led you gently around the edge and the world had seemed to still. It had been the first time you’d felt anything stir outside of your break-up. Whatever hurt and distance had sprung between you, it seemed something had survived between you and Jimin.

Nose red, Jimin had smiled as he skated backwards. “It’s easy,” he’d told you. “You just swivel, Y/N. In and out, in and out. Got it?”

“Um, no!” you’d yelped, nearly crashing to the ice when Jimin let go of your hands.

He’d laughed, catching you easily and skating like that for a while. Eventually, Jimin had helped you off the rink and gotten hot chocolate, which you insisted on buying. Payback, you said, for the impromptu skating lessons.

That day had been a turning point for you both. Throughout the month prior, you’d texted sporadically but after, you seemed to talk every day.

Jimin even offered to drive you home from Russet, given the fact that your hometowns were so close together. After much hemming and hawing, you’d eventually taken him up on the offer. The savings it gave your bleeding bank account were well-worth the potential discomfort.

This had led to both the best and worst twenty-four hours of your life.

Best, because Jimin was an excellent road trip companion. He let you choose the music, laughed at all your dumb jokes, and agreed to play the road trip games you suggested. You’d already made a firm rule not to compare Jimin to any past boyfriends but couldn’t help but note this as an improvement over anyone prior.

The sole reason the twenty-four hours were also painful was because you stopped at a hotel halfway through. It was either this or drive until 3:00 AM, so you chose the smarter option and rested for the night. You and Jimin bought separate bedrooms, but they’d ended up next to one another, so you’d been forced to spend a sleepless night imagining Jimin separated from you only by a thin sheet of plywood.

You had told yourself this was silly. At Russet, Jimin hadn’t been much further away, but something about the closeness in the hotel made you nervous. It was infinitely easier to forget about boundaries when you were separated by only a car console for hours at a time. Infinitely easier to forget the rules when you were outside of Russet, cocooned by his car and the snow.

You couldn’t help but think about the one kiss you’d shared.

That had only been a taste, barely a teaser, but the memory kept you awake for more nights than it probably should have. You couldn’t help but wonder what it’d be like to kiss Jimin again, under different circumstances.

Groaning, you’d covered your face with a pillow that night and tried your best to sleep. It hadn’t really worked, and you’d shown up at the car the next morning with dark shadows beneath your eyes.

Forcing yourself back to the present, you glanced away from your phone and focused on the tree – only to see its screen light up in your peripheral. Grabbing your phone, you realized Jimin had texted. Stifling a smile, you scrolled through the conversation until you found his last message.

Jimin: MERRY CHRISTMAS! [10:23 AM]

Jimin: 

Y/N: oh my god everything’s so... coordinated lol how long did that tree take to set up?  [10:24 AM]

Y/N: and merry Christmas 😊  [10:24 AM]

Jimin: not long at all. I just googled ‘christmas trees’ and that was the first one I found  [10:24 AM]

Y/N: ha ha hilarious  [10:25 AM]

Y/N: so, what are the Park family plans for the day?  [10:25 AM]

Jimin: the usual. Opening presents, going to my grandparents later for dinner. What about you?  [10:25 AM]

Y/N: same, minus the grandparents. We usually have a pretty low-key day  [10:26 AM]

Jimin: sounds nice  [10:26 AM]

Jimin: what’s your favorite present so far  [10:27 AM]

Y/N: 

Jimin: LOL  [10:30 AM]

Jimin: how many of them did you get? I’ve gotten two new dance bags and seven pairs of black leggings. It’s like our parents have forgotten we do anything else  [10:31 AM]

Y/N: no new dance belts? 😈  [10:32 AM]

Jimin: Y/N, I’m shocked  [10:35 AM]

Jimin: mind out of the gutter. Stop thinking about my junk  [10:35 AM]

Y/N: as your dance partner, I have a vested interest in your junk. What if it breaks free in the middle of practice?  [10:38 AM]

Jimin: the more delicate ladies would faint, I imagine  [10:41 AM]

Jimin: and probably Paulo  [10:41 AM]

Y/N: lmao  [10:43 AM]

Y/N: but seriously, I hope you get presents other than dance gear  [10:43 AM]

Jimin: back at you haha  [10:47 AM]

Y/N: I can’t help but notice you didn’t get me, your dance partner, a Christmas gift though  [10:50 AM]

Jimin: was the drive home not enough?  [10:50 AM]

Y/N: oh, shoot. You’re right! You did get me a Christmas gift  [10:51 AM]

Y/N: I’m the one who’s been remiss  [10:51 AM]

Jimin: don’t forget about my housewarming gift, too  [10:52 AM]

You smiled, sitting back on the sofa. Jimin was lucky enough to be moving off campus second semester. He, Hoseok and Alex Wong were moving into an apartment not far from Paulo’s. You and Noelle had decided to stay in Grace Hall, but you’d talked about moving someplace else next year.

Jimin was heading back early to move into his new place, so you’d need a different ride on your return trip to Russet. Still, you were looking forward to Jimin’s apartment hosting parties in the new year.

Y/N: don’t get greedy on me now, Park  [10:54 AM]

“Who’re you texting?”

Jerking your head up from the screen, you nearly dropped your phone. From the couch opposite, your mom gave you a knowing look.

“No one,” you said hastily, setting your phone aside.

“Oh, really?” She glanced with your dad. “No one wouldn’t happen to have dark hair, his own car and excellent table manners, would he?”

Immediately, you felt your face heat.

When Jimin drove you home before Christmas, your parents had insisted on feeding him before he continued to Harleigh Heights. This had led to the weirdest double date of your life – which was, in fact, not a date – including you, Jimin and your parents for dinner. Luckily, your parents had been great and Jimin hadn’t cared, but you’d been endlessly mortified for your first date with Jimin to have included your parents.

Not that you’d called it a date. When Jimin had left that night, you’d brushed it aside and he’d simply gone along with it. After Jimin had left, you’d gone to your room and wondered what the hell you were doing. It was clear you still liked Jimin and wanted to be more than just friends. Still, something continued to hold you back.

You weren’t sure when it was considered appropriate to move on. The line seemed fuzzy, so you hadn’t dared cross it and Jimin hadn’t asked. You got the feeling you needed to be the one to make the first move – which made sense. You’d been the one who asked for more time. You’d told Jimin you’d say when you were ready.

Any next steps would have to come from you.

It had been weird to go home and not see Finn. His house was only fifteen minutes away from yours – you’d driven past it on your way to the grocery store last week. Still, seeing his home hadn’t caused the pain you’d expected. It was strange not to see him, but more like you’d forgotten something you needed to do, as opposed to missing his actual presence.

If you were being honest, Finn had crossed your mind less and less lately. Possibly because you’d been falling out of love with him long before you’d broken up in November.

Still, it would be unfair to jump into something before you were ready. You’d already hurt Jimin once this past fall and were determined not to do so again. No matter how good things had been lately between you, you didn’t want to make the mistake of dating Jimin too soon.

Despite this, things had become flirtier between you as of late. Exhibit A: casual text conversations about Park Jimin’s junk.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said lightly.

Your dad laughed as he stood from the couch. “Alright, then,” he said, grabbing another gift. “How about you open this one next?”

Accepting the thin package he handed over, you frowned. The box wasn’t large and, shaking it slowly, you heard no sliding inside.

“I swear,” you said as you began to undo the bow. “If you wrapped your passport photo again, dad...”

Laughing, he settled back on the couch by your mom. “It’s not that, I promise.”

Grumbling, you opened the box and immediately froze. Staring at the paper inside, you slowly looked up. “Is this… is this what I think it is?”

“It’s a plane flight,” your mom said with a smile. “I know we’re supposed to drive you back on the third, but we thought you might want to celebrate New Year’s with your friends.”

“But…” Speechless, you returned to the box. “We always hang out together on New Year’s Eve.”

“I know,” said your dad. “But maybe it’s time to start some new traditions, kiddo.”

With that, he stood and took his mug to the kitchen. Sensing he wasn’t needed for this conversation any longer, he began washing dishes and to prepare breakfast. Once he was gone, your mom moved to your couch and settled beside you.

“I… this is too much,” you said, immediately backpedaling.

“It’s not.”

“Well…” Hesitant, you considered the possibilities. “I guess Ari will be in the city for New Year’s Eve. Maybe Noelle, too. She mentioned she might go back early.”

Gently, your mom smiled. “That’s great if you want to hang out with them, but… didn’t Jimin mention going back before New Year’s?”

Startled, you glanced up. You were surprised she’d remembered. Jimin had mentioned it briefly at dinner last week – he’d said he was moving off campus, which was why he’d needed to return home to pack.

“I – he might have,” you said cautiously.

“I see.” She paused. “I just… I don’t want you feeling like you need to hold yourself back, honey.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Your mom glanced meaningfully at your phone. “I’m glad you’re taking time to yourself,” she said slowly. “It’s important to know who you are and what you want. But also – don’t feel like you need to follow someone else’s timeline when it comes to moving on.”

“I know, but…” You trailed off. “We only broke up in November.”

She shrugged. “Only you know when you’re ready, honey. I just don’t want you to keep punishing yourself for something that’s over. You’re allowed to be happy, even if you’ve messed up in the past.”

Swallowing, you glanced again at the gift. The plane ticket was for the day before New Year’s Eve. Plucking it from the box, you sat back on the couch.

“But…” you said lowly. “Mom, it’s only been two months.”

“And are you still in love with Finn?”

“No.”

“And did you learn anything from what happened this fall?”

“I… Yes. A lot.”

“Good.” Reaching out, she squeezed your hand. “Learn the lessons you need to learn, and then move on. Self-flagellation isn’t productive, Y/N.”

You nodded, still uncertain about what she was saying. Her words made sense, but everything she was saying uncovered a dormant fear. You were scared. Scared of hurting someone else, scared of being hurt by someone else in return. Your last relationship had ended so badly, it was hard to convince yourself it might be worth it to try again.

Finally, you turned to face her on the couch. “Does it ever get any easier?” you asked. “This fear of being hurt… does it ever go away?”

Something sad passed over her face. “Yes and no,” she said, pulling back her hand. “You’ll never be as innocent as you were in your first love. There’s something special about loving someone and never having been hurt before. Once you’ve gone through that kind of pain, you aren’t the same after. But… it does get easier. And better. You’ll know more about how to support this time, instead of tearing down. How to make a love stronger, instead of hanging on.”

Something about this speech gave you comfort, and you slowly nodded. Again, what she said made sense but if there was one thing you’d learned from the fall, it was no matter how great the advice was, it was impossible to take if you weren’t ready to hear it.

You continued wondering if the risk would be worth it. No matter how much you felt for Jimin, you couldn’t help but remember how you’d felt breaking up with Finn. You hadn’t been in love with him at that point and it had still been so painful. It was terrifying to imagine loving someone again and having things end the same way.

Your mom was right, though. You couldn’t keep punishing yourself for something you couldn’t change. There were several ways you could move on from here. The main question to ask yourself was whether you wanted Jimin in the picture.

“Alright,” you said softly. “Thanks, mom.”

“Anytime.” Smiling, she stood and dusted off her pants. “I’m going to see if your dad needs help making breakfast. Don’t be too long, now!”

You nodded, watching her go, and then glanced at the ticket. Your mom’s words continued to run through your mind and after a moment, you picked up your phone.

Jimin had texted back.

Jimin: I would never!  [10:57 AM]

Y/N: hey, so  [11:01 AM]

Y/N: I did get one non-dance gift this year. A plane flight the day before New Year’s Eve  [11:02 AM]

Jimin: oh, wow! That was really nice of your parents  [11:03 AM]

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes. When you opened them, you found yourself newly determined.

Y/N: when do you get back again?  [11:03 AM]

His ellipses started, then stopped, then started again.

Jimin: December 28th  [11:04 AM] 

Y/N: what are your New Year’s Eve plans?  [11:04 AM]

For a moment, he didn’t respond, and you felt your heart catch. Maybe you’d misread things. Maybe Jimin had moved on and didn’t care about you anymore. Maybe he didn’t want you to tell him you were ready.

Jimin: I’m free 😊  [11:05 AM]

Jimin: want to be my New Year’s Eve date?  [11:05 AM]

Smiling ear to ear, you responded.

Y/N: yes. Please  [11:06 AM]

On the actual day of New Year’s Eve, you found yourself stressed beyond belief. Standing in front of the mirror of your dorm room, you adjusted your dress and worried over the hemline. Jimin had arranged to meet you around 7:00 PM and it was dangerously close to 6:55.

“Is the dress too short?” you asked, turning a little to face Noelle. “It is New Year’s Eve in the city. Should I wear pants, or something? Will I be cold?”

Noelle considered, then shrugged. “Just drink more. Problem solved!”

Snorting, you turned back to the mirror. Nervously, you smoothed down the front of your dress. You’d bought it at an after-Christmas sale and had fallen instantly in love. It had seemed perfect at the time, but now you were having second thoughts about the thin straps and tight bodice.

“Alright, so Y/N.” Noelle changed the subject. “Here’s the plan. Are you listening?”

Hiding a smile, you adjusted an earring. “Listening.”

“Good. Okay, so Ari and I will be at a party uptown. If the date goes badly, just say the word and we’ll call you a cab. You can be ringing in the new year with us within the hour.”

“Perfect,” you said. “It’s good to have a back-up.”

“It is.” Noelle paused. “Not that I think you’ll need this, of course.”

“Well, you never know.”

“Please.” She snorted. “What’s Jimin going to do? Be too charming? Too respectful of boundaries? Wear pants that show off his ass a little too much?”

“Noelle!”

She laughed, coming to a stop alongside you. Noelle wore a sparkly dress which made her skin glow, although this may have been the glitter dusted over her shoulders. Looking at herself in the mirror, she fluffed her hair.

“Seriously,” she said, meeting your gaze. “You’re going to be fine.”

“I know, I know.” Shaking out your arms, you forced yourself to exhale. “I’m just nervous, that’s all. It’s been a long time since I went on a first date.”

Noelle considered. “That’s true. Allow me to give you some dating tips, then.”

Laughing, you turned around and sat on the futon. “By all means.”

“Alright – number one.” Noelle removed lipstick from her purse. “Don’t order anything with garlic. I know, that sucks because garlic is everything, but no one wants to make out while they have garlic breath. Rule number two!”

“Whoa, whoa,” you said. “Who said anything about making out?”

Noelle gave you a pointed look. “Just in case it should happen…”

Shaking your head, you sunk back on the futon, but you knew she was right. Tonight was New Year’s Eve, after all. Ideally, you’d like to do more than kiss Jimin, but this seemed like too much of a jinx to say out loud.

Mentally, you agreed to the ‘no garlic’ rule.

“What else?” you prompted.

“Let’s see.” Noelle began to reapply her lipstick. “Relax.”

“What?”

Glancing at you in the mirror, she raised both brows. “I can see your shoulders tensing from here, babe. Just relax, okay? Tonight will be fine. You’re just hanging out with Jimin. You’ve done that before.”

“I know,” you groaned, lowering your face to your hands. “For some reason though, I’m very aware of the ‘date’ aspect of tonight. I don’t know why.”

When you looked up, Noelle gave you a sympathetic look, but before she could say more there came a knock at the door. Half-standing, you moved to open it, but Noelle shooed you back.

“Rule number three,” she said as she crossed the room. “Never answer the door for your own date.”

“What?” you laughed, although you sat back down on the futon.

Grabbing the handle, Noelle pulled open the door. Blocking you from view, she leaned her shoulder against the frame.

“Password?”

“What?” came Jimin’s voice, sounding confused.

“That’s correct!” Noelle stepped aside.

As you stood, you saw Jimin for the first time. He wore a pea coat over his outfit, his dark hair pushed back from his face in a devastating manner. When he saw you, Jimin froze, and you saw his eyes widen.

Silently, you congratulated yourself on having picked the right outfit. His gaze slowly trailed your body, lingering in places which made your cheeks heat. When he returned to your face, he slowly exhaled.

“Hey,” he said. “You… you look beautiful.”

Smiling back, you found yourself at a loss for words. “So do you.”

Jimin grinned and you stood there, smiling at each other like idiots until Noelle cleared her throat.

“Well,” she said, side-stepping Jimin to grab her coat. “I’m going to head over to Ari’s. You kids be safe, okay?”

“We will,” you laughed.

Noelle left in a flurry of kisses and glitter, waving goodbye as she stepped out the door. Jimin turned to face you once she was gone, offering a smile.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked. “I brought you these.”

From behind his back, he pulled out pink peonies, which made you gasp. They were your favorites, a little limp from the cold, but still beautiful. Taking them gently from him, you turned them over in your hands.

“They’re wonderful,” you said happily. “Thank you.”

Jimin smiled. “I’m glad you like them.”

Glancing around, you found a clean glass near the sink and filled this with water. Arranging the peonies on your desk, you took a step back and cocked your head. You’d always thought the idea of flowers on dates was kind of cheesy, but now that you’d experienced it in person, it seemed unimaginably sweet.

“There,” you said, turning back. “All set.”

Jimin smiled at this, then glanced at your bare arms. “You’re going to be cold without a coat,” he said. “That’d be a bad way to start off the new year.”

“Oh – duh,” you said, hurrying towards your wardrobe.

Pulling a coat out, you slipped this over your dress and buttoned the front. As you left the room, you turned off the lights and shut the door behind you. Jimin walked with you down the hall, continually glancing your way from the corner of his eyes.

You felt oddly shy, despite this being Jimin beside you. Jimin, who you’d known since you were teenagers. Jimin, who’d been both the utter bane of your existence, along with the single person you trusted most in the world. He’d tossed you up in the air and caught you no question and somehow, this felt like the most daring thing you’d ever done.

It was strange to walk beside him, out on a date whose future held a large question mark. Excitement and uncertainty warred in your stomach, which only seemed to exacerbate the situation. You felt as though you stood on the edge of a precipice, staring into a ravine with no discernable bottom.

As you left the building, snowflakes swirled in the sky up above and you looked up in surprise.

“Oh,” you exhaled, breath frosting before you. “I didn’t realize it was snowing!”

“Yeah.” Jimin grinned, tilting back his head. “Snow is my favorite weather, actually.”

“The wet and the cold does it that much for you, huh, Park?”

“That, and the romance of it all.”

Your smile softened a little as you fell into step alongside him. The snow continued to drift as you walked, melting as soon as it touched the pavement.

“So, where are we going?” you wondered, glancing at him. “You said you’d tell me once you picked me up and I’ve got news for you, Jimin. I’m here. I’ve been picked up.”

“Right, sure.” He shoved both hands in his pockets. “I made a reservation at this restaurant around the corner. The food’s really good so I hope you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will.”

“Huh.” Jimin paused. “That was easy.”

You shrugged. “I’m just excited for tonight. That’s all.”

His gaze softened a little when he glanced at you. “Me, too.”

Smiling, you continued to walk alongside him. New Year’s Eve in the city was a grand affair. The sidewalks were still lit with holiday lights, people hurrying past in brightly colored coats. Privately, you were glad Jimin had made a reservation at a restaurant instead of trying to brave a club or a bar. You’d heard horror stories from people who paid extravagantly to get into a club, only to spend the entire night waiting in line at the bar.

Turning the corner, you saw the restaurant Jimin had chosen and brightened. It was one you’d walked past several times and always wanted to try but had never found time.

Jimin held open the door as you entered. The inside still had their holiday decorations up, garland strung across every surface with tiny, white fairy lights hung up above. Everyone who was dining wore formal attire, laughing and chatting in the glow of the fireplace. The food smelled amazing and immediately, your mouth watered.

Joining the line at the hostess stand, you waited for the couple before you to leave and then Jimin stepped up.

“Park,” he told her. “Party of two.”

The hostess smiled, nodding as she flipped through her notebook. “One moment, please.” The longer she looked though, the more her face fell. After a moment, she glanced up. “Park, you said?”

“Yes.” Jimin nodded. “P-a-r-k.”

The woman nodded, flipping through her notebook again as though the name might magically appear.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, glancing up again. “There seems to be some kind of mistake. I don’t have you listed as a reservation.”

Jimin’s expression faltered. “Can you look again?” he asked, leaning forward.

The hostess nodded, running her finger down the numbered rows. “I can’t find you anywhere. Do you remember who you spoke with on the phone?”

“Rebecca.”

“Oh.” Her face immediately fell. “Rebecca left the restaurant last week. It seems a few reservations slipped through in the transition. Is there… well, before I do that – let me see what I can do,” she blurted out, turning around to rush into the restaurant.

Jimin watched her disappear and you saw his expression tighten.

Silence fell between you as you adjusted your coat. Jimin looked stressed and you weren’t sure what you should do about it. Frantically, you tried to remember times he’d been stressed during class, but before you could do or say anything, the hostess returned.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, looking harried. “The restaurant is completely booked up. I was trying to see if we could squeeze you in, but there’s just no room. I’m so sorry. Normally, only one person does the reservations, but we’ve been so busy lately...”

“It’s fine,” you said, jumping in. The poor woman looked like she was about to burst into tears. “Please, don’t worry about it. We’ll figure something out.”

Jimin glanced at you, surprised, and then nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed, returning to the hostess. “Thank you so much for your help – I appreciate you trying. We actually have a back-up reservation somewhere else, so don’t worry. We’ll come back another time!”

“Oh, really?” Her entire face brightened. “That’s so good to hear. New Year’s Eve, and all. Thank you for being understanding!”

“Yes, busy night,” Jimin said with a smile. “Take care of yourself!”

The woman nodded, seeming grateful when you stepped out of line. Jimin followed your footsteps, heading towards the door and then came to a stop. Slowly, he exhaled.

“So,” you said, turning to face him. “Where are these back-up reservations?”

Jimin winced and met your gaze. “I have none,” he admitted. “She just looked so sad. I wanted to put her out of her misery.”

“Wait.” Piecing this together, you paused. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” he said miserably. “I only made reservations here and that was super lucky, considering most places in the city have been booked for weeks. I don’t have any back-up plans.”

For a moment, you could only stare. “So, you said all that just so that poor hostess wouldn’t worry about a mistake her restaurant made?”

“I – well, yeah.”

You stared another moment, then started to laugh. It started out small but grew until eventually, you were wiping tears of mirth from your eyes.

Jimin watched you laugh, seeming thoroughly confused. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s just…” Shaking your head, you paused to catch your breath. “You’re unreal. Most people would be super stressed about New Year’s Eve plans falling through, but here you are lying to make a hostess’ night better.”

He blinked, still uncertain. “I’m… sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologize!” you insisted as you straightened. “It’s… wonderful,” you said to him shyly. “I like that about you.”

Slowly, his expression changed. “I really don’t have other plans, though,” he admitted. “I wasn’t lying about that. And I am stressed about my reservation falling through. I wanted this night to be perfect.”

The sweetness of this made your heart start to melt and newly determined, you nodded.

“We can fix this,” you said. “We’ll just go somewhere else.”

“Like where?”

“Like...” You paused. “We could hang out at my dorm. Or at your apartment! One of our kitchens has to be free, right? We could make dinner and hang out, watch the ball drop.”

“We could go to my place,” said Jimin slowly. “Hoseok and Alex are at a New Year’s Eve party uptown. We’d have the kitchen to ourselves.”

“Perfect,” you said. “Let’s go there.”

“I should warn you, though – I can only really cook one thing.”

“Spaghetti-o’s?”

“Okay, two things.”

You laughed. “So, what’s the first thing?”

“A pasta dish they taught us in Senior Foods class. But it’s nothing fancy.”

“Perfect.” You shrugged. “That will go nicely with my contribution of store-bought bread and olive oil.”

Jimin started to grin. “Alright, then, it’s settled. Let’s go to my place.”

You smiled when he opened the door, following him onto the sidewalk. Jimin’s new apartment was a few blocks away, but time passed quickly with him beside you. Oddly enough, the mishap at the restaurant seemed to have cleared some of the lingering awkwardness.

Noelle had been right, you realized – you had nothing to worry about while you were with Jimin.

He talked while you walked, detailing the ongoing fight at his apartment about some posters Hoseok wanted to hang. This segued into the general ridiculousness of New Year’s Eve – a topic you wholeheartedly agreed with.

“It’s stressful,” Jimin complained as you walked. “Everyone’s always asking about your resolution, you need to find someone to kiss at midnight, and there’s that super awkward moment with the countdown and your date…”

You laughed, grabbing a basket as you entered the grocery store. Jimin had suggested you stop by, since he didn’t have much food at his place.

“Doesn’t the countdown make it easier?” you joked. “It really dumbs the whole process down. Fool-proof.”

“Well, sure,” Jimin said. “But then you end up staring awkwardly at someone for ten seconds while you slowly lean forward and wonder when you should blink.”

Laughing, you reached on tiptoe for a loaf of bread. “Alright, you got me there,” you admitted. “I’ve never had a proper New Year’s Eve, anyways. I’ve always been dating someone and then, it’s just kind of assumed you’ll kiss. None of the magic you see in the movies.”

Jimin nodded. “Most of that’s just movie magic, though. You aren’t missing much – trust me.”

“I don’t know,” you said as you turned the next corner. “The anticipation sounds kind of nice. Wondering if someone will kiss you back, if they’re thinking about you the same way you are…”

Jimin made a humming noise, low in his throat.

Coming to a stop, he reached overhead to grab some pasta. Putting this in your basket, Jimin casually brushed your arm as you met his faze. Fighting back a shiver, you tried to remember what you’d been saying.

Giving a smile, Jimin continued forward and kept shopping. You stared after him a moment before your gaze dropped to his ass. Inhaling quickly, you remembered Noelle’s comment about Jimin’s tight pants. She hadn’t been wrong about that. Hurrying along, you quickly caught up.

Grabbing another jar, Jimin placed this in the basket. When he caught your eye again, he grinned, his hair falling forward. The sight made your heart flip-flop in your chest.

As you entered the check-out line, Jimin came to a stop alongside you. His gaze traveled the store, eyes widening when he glanced over your shoulder.

“What’s that?” Jimin gasped.

Startled, you turned. “What’s – hey!” you blurted when he took your basket.

Grinning widely, Jimin placed the food before the cashier. “Too slow.”

“Jimin, come on,” you said, slightly flustered. “I can pay. I –”

“You can pay next time, if you want.”

This shut you up and you stared at him a moment before you stepped forward.

“There’s… going to be a next time?” you said.

Jimin glanced in your direction. “If you want there to be.”

“I do,” you said softly, and he smiled.

Taking another step forward, he pulled out his wallet to pay and you let him – this time, anyways. Outside, it seemed to have grown colder since your arrival and you shivered as you exited the shop. Noticing this, Jimin immediately undid his scarf from around his neck.

“Here,” he said, handing it over. “I don’t need this.”

“But then you’ll be cold,” you pointed out, accepting it anyways.

“I’ll jog in place to keep warm.”

“… With me walking beside you?”

“Yep.”

You laughed, even more so when Jimin began to demonstrate. He jogged for a few steps, then slowed to a walk.

“Changed my mind,” he said with a wince. “I’d rather be cold.”

You laughed, cheeks starting to hurt from both this and the wind. Jimin’s apartment wasn’t far, although it did turn out to be a third-floor walk-up. This left you slightly winded when you arrived at his place, to which Jimin shrugged and said the rent had been cheap.

Opening his front door, he led the way into – boxes. Tons of them, although most of the furniture had been set up around them. Jimin fumbled for a light, flicking this on and setting down the groceries.

“Most of the boxes are Alex’s,” he sighed, looking around. “Hoseok and I have a secret deal we’re going to unpack him ourselves if he doesn’t do it by Monday.”

“That doesn’t sound like much of a detriment to Alex.”

“I never said what we planned on doing with his things once we unpacked.”

You laughed, undoing your coat to set aside. Glancing around, you saw Jimin was right. Most of the boxes were scrawled in the same handwriting. Beyond them, you saw the living room had been mostly set up with a couch and TV.

To your right lay the kitchen, in which Jimin was already unloading the groceries. Beyond him was a hallway, through which you assumed were their bedrooms and bathrooms. Wandering back to Jimin, you realized he was staring.

“What?” you said, coming to a stop. “Did I spill something on my dress in the store?”

“No,” Jimin murmured, shaking his head. “I just… I know I said this before, but you really do look incredible.”

“Oh.”

Looking at him, you felt your face growing hot. Jimin smiled and ducked his head, resumed pulling things out of the bag. Stepping from your shoes to place in the hall, you returned to the kitchen and pulled out a stool.

Sitting down, you propped your chin in your hand. “Aren’t you going to take off your coat?”

Glancing down, Jimin blinked. “Oh,” he laughed, undoing the buttons. “I forgot I was wearing it.”

You smiled, but this quickly disappeared when you saw what he was wearing. Jimin had worn a dark blazer and trousers, paired with a paisley shirt and black boots. He looked ridiculously good and again, Noelle’s comment about his ass came to mind.

She’d been correct – his pants were well-shaped and well-formed.

After removing both coat and shoes, Jimin returned to the kitchen and pushed a hand through his hair. You watched him get to work, leaning forward a bit when he began to dice vegetables. Immediately, your brows raised. It seemed Jimin had undersold his skills in the kitchen.

When you said as much, he laughed.

“Maybe a little,” Jimin said. As he pushed veggies from the cutting board, the pan began to sizzle. “It’s all part of my master plan. Set expectations low, then over-deliver.”

“It’s working,” you said with a laugh. “You seem pretty damn impressive to me.”

Jimin’s cheeks reddened. “You’re just saying that.”

“Why would I lie?”

“I seem to remember some shocking texts about my junk and dancer’s belts. You could just be after my body, Y/N.”

“I – that’s not!”

He looked up and grinned. “Kidding.”

Flustered, you blurted, “That wasn’t nice!”

Jimin laughed. “I’m sorry.”

You huffed, waiting a minute before you continued. “You do look really good right now, though,” you said softly.

He looked up, eyes wide. As much as Jimin said he enjoyed being liked, it seemed to throw him for a loop whenever you said you liked him. It made you pause, mulling over this for a minute.

“You seem surprised,” you said quietly. “Whenever I say things like that, you always look surprised.”

“Well…” Jimin hesitated. “I just think… there’s been a lot of times where I never thought this would happen. It feels kind of unreal have you here. In my kitchen. On a date.”

“Times after November?”

Jimin paused.

Your brow furrowed. “Before then?”

Opening the pasta, Jimin added this to the pot. He stared into the steam, slowly exhaling before he looked up.

“Let’s just say I’ve wanted this for a while,” he admitted.

“What? But you hated me before Russet.”

“I…” Jimin trailed off. “Kind of. It’s complicated.”

When he failed to elaborate and returned to his cooking, your eyebrows shot up.

“Uh, no,” you laughed. “You can’t just say that and not explain what you mean. What are you talking about?”

Jimin winced as he set down his spoon. “Okay,” he said, gripping the counter. “I guess what I’m saying is I never really hated you. Not truly.”

“You didn’t.”

“No.” He spoke flatly.

“But…” Confused, you searched his face. “You’ve hated me ever since we met, Jimin. That first weekend at NUVO dance competition. We were both called out to demonstrate and you tripped me!”

“Well, maybe that’s not exactly what happened.”

“What are you talking about?”

Jimin released a low breath. “Okay, so here’s the thing. That weekend happened a little differently from my perspective.”

“How so?”

“We were both called out to demonstrate,” he said, repeating your words. “But I hadn’t seen you before then. When we both reached center and I turned and saw you – I froze. I couldn’t remember how to act. Every thought I’d ever had just… flew out of my head.”

You stared at him, speechless.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Jimin continued softly. “I’d never felt like that before. When you started to dance, it only got worse. I’d never seen someone dance like you did. That’s why I entered the combination late. That’s why I was in the wrong spot at the wrong time and that’s why I accidentally tripped you. I was… well, I was distracted.”

“By me,” you whispered. “You were distracted by… me?”

“Yeah.”

“So,” you said, breath catching. “This entire time, you haven’t really hated me?”

“Ah, I don’t know about that.” Jimin rubbed the back of his neck. “You could be really infuriating,” he said with a laugh. “There were times when you genuinely pissed me off. I meant it when I said I wanted to win against you. But also… I don’t know. I never really forgot the first time I saw you.”

“Oh,” you whispered, unsure what you were feeling.

It made your head spin to hear this different version of events. Jimin hadn’t hated you – at least, not in the same way you had. He hadn’t been the one to make the first move after all. You had when you’d decided not to listen to his apology.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands.

“Hey – what’s wrong?”

Dropping his spoon to the counter, Jimin came around and stood beside you. Keeping your head down, you refused to look up until Jimin touched your arm.

“I just,” you exhaled, turning to face him. “It was my fault. This entire time, I thought you hated me and that’s why I hated you. But instead, I just decided to hate you – and for what?”

Jimin’s upper lip twitched. “I wasn’t entirely blameless, you know. I was such a little shit at that age. I wouldn’t have believed me, either.”

“You tried to apologize, though!”

“Hey.” Gently, he gripped your elbows. “If it makes you feel any better, I did trip people just to get to the front. I was an ass. It’s why that Jungkook guy hates me. I started dancing later in life, so I was really hung up on proving myself.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t true,” you told him. “You didn’t trip me on purpose, and if I’d only been less stubborn –”

“Whoa, hey.” Jimin smiled. “You weren’t the only stubborn one. Maybe it started off as a misunderstanding, but I didn’t really fight it. You were my competition as much as I was yours.”

“I guess,” you said quietly. “I just… I feel like I wasted so much time hating you. Maybe we could’ve even been friends.”

His gaze sparked. “Just friends?” he asked with a quirk of his brow.

“Jimin,” you groaned, but started to smile.

“Listen.” Expression softening, Jimin moved closer. “Even if I had decided to explain all this in high school, would you have believed me?”

“Probably not.”

“Exactly. I was a dick back then.” He nodded. “Remember that one time I lied and told you the awards ceremony had been pushed back an hour?”

Sitting up straighter, you glared. “Oh, I remember. I showed up after they’d already taken the photo for Top Junior solos.”

Jimin grinned. “Or the time I put an out of order sign on the women's restroom after your solo at BRAVO, so you had to run all the way across the auditorium?”

“That was you!” you blurted out, wide-eyed. “No one would believe me when I said it was! Every girl was so pissed off at you that weekend.”

“Which is exactly why I could never admit it was me!”

In disbelief, you shook your head. “You did all of that just to get back at me?”

Jimin’s smile disappeared. “Hey, you weren’t innocent either,” he argued. “Remember the time you spilled an entire water bottle next to my bag so that when I sat down, my ass got all wet?”

Devious, you smiled. “Honestly, there was kind of an ulterior motive there. As much as I hated you, your ass looks great in damp sweats.”

Jimin’s jaw dropped a little.

Managing to shut this, he took a casual step forward. “Is that what you thought?” he murmured, barely able to conceal the thickness in his voice.

“I… may have noticed a few things about you.”

When he placed a hand next to you on the counter, your breath hitched in response. Jimin repeated this with his other hand, bringing his body a step closer to yours.

Hesitant, his gaze roamed your face. “What else did you notice?”

“I…” you exhaled and glanced at his lips.

The air between you could have been cut with a knife, heated for a different reason than the stove beside you. Which – eyes widening, you glanced over.

“Shit!” you blurted. “Jimin, the pasta!”

Startled, he looked in the same direction as you and realized the water was boiling. Rushing away, Jimin entered the kitchen and turned down the burner. Now that you were separated by a solid counter, you felt somewhat dazed when you glanced up and saw him.

Meeting your gaze, Jimin came to a stop. “Anyways,” he said softly. “Now, you know. I didn’t trip you on purpose. I never really hated you. And I’m incredibly glad you’re here tonight.”

Watching him speak, something warm bloomed in your chest.

“Me, too,” you whispered.

Smiling, Jimin returned to the pasta and you settled back on the stool. Delicious scents soon filled the kitchen and you realized how truly hungry you were. You hadn’t eaten much at lunch in preparation and by now, you were famished.

It wasn’t long before Jimin placed pasta onto plates, adding the bread you’d cut up on the side. He brought these to his table, disappearing briefly to return with two candles.

“Oo,” you said as you took a seat. “Fancy.”

Jimin lit the one closest to you with a flourish. “We aim to please, here at Park Jimin’s Fine Eating and Dining.”

“Is that the name of your restaurant?”

“It is.”

“And you’re set on that decision?”

“I decided on a whim, but I have no regrets,” Jimin said, taking a seat across from you. “Now, eat before you piss off the chef and he takes back your food.”

Laughing, you dug into the pasta before you. It was delicious and, after the very first bite, you sighed in appreciation. Apparently, Jimin had truly set the bar low. Conversation began to flow, any lingering tension disappeared after talk of your past.

It was the oddest thing. You’d heard stories from friends about other first dates. They worried about how to behave, what to wear, or what to say to their date – but none of these worries seemed to exist for you in the moment. You’d been so concerned before the night began, but now that you were here, all these worries seemed to fly out the window.

You’d thought you’d spend the entire night comparing. Comparing Jimin to your last relationship, comparing Jimin as a date to Jimin as a friend, but instead, it felt like natural progression. It wasn’t a matter of comparing Jimin to anyone else, but rather simply enjoying where the night led.

After dinner, you insisted on helping clean because Jimin had cooked and bought the food. Donning rubber gloves over your dress, you stood at the sink and began to wash dishes. Jimin laughed as he joined, pulling on gloves to dry the dishes beside you. Once this was done, he suggested watching a movie before the ball dropped.

Collapsing onto the sofa, you adjusted your dress and scanned the room. The posters Jimin had bemoaned were now hung over the TV – you wondered if Hoseok had managed to somehow sneak them past his roommates. Small touches here and there made you think of Jimin.

A game he’d mentioned was out on the coffee table and a blanket which smelled like him was draped over a chair. Pulling this towards you, you wrapped it around yourself as Jimin left the kitchen.

Holding two glasses of wine, he paused when he saw you.

“What?” you said, glancing down.

“Nothing.” Jimin cleared his throat. “Are you cold?”

“A little,” you admitted, tugged his blanket closer.

“Shoot.” Jimin frowned. “The heat’s been weird since we moved in. I’m not sure how to fix – oh!” Setting the glasses down, he rushed towards the hall. “Do you want a sweatshirt?” he called.

“Yes, please!”

Jimin reappeared moments later, a navy sweatshirt in hand. Handing this over, he settled beside you on the sofa. He’d ditched his blazer and now, Jimin was dressed in only the paisley shirt and slacks.

Pulling his sweatshirt overhead, you somehow managed to get stuck right away. It was hard not to, with your hair and the dress, trying not to flash him while you kept your legs crossed.

After a moment of watching your undignified struggling, Jimin cleared his throat.

“Need help?”

“Yes, please,” you said weakly.

Jimin laughed, helping you free and once the hoodie was settled, you sighed and leaned back. Glancing sideways at Jimin, you found him already looking at you.

“What do you want to watch?” you asked.

Jimin blinked, then glanced at the TV. “Hm,” he mused, grabbing the remote. “We could watch the ball drop and enjoy the fact that we’re sitting inside, not standing in the freezing cold without any bathrooms.”

“I know!” you said with a shudder. “Out of all the stupid traditions, that’s one I’ll never understand.”

“How do so many people have it on their bucket list?”

“Right? That, and the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Zero out of ten. It’s cold, there’s wind and again, there’s the question of bathrooms.”

Jimin laughed as he scrolled through the channels. “Alright, so no to the ball drop. Want to watch a movie?”

“Sure.”

“What movie?”

“Why’re you making me pick?” you whined, sinking deeper into his cushions. “That’s such a large amount of pressure.”

“Exactly, which is why I don’t want to do it.”

You laughed and after some back and forth, decided to watch About Time. This was a movie about obstacles and falling in love, which seemed more than fitting because of the new year. At first, you and Jimin were watching diligently but eventually, he asked a question and conversation slowly drifted from the movie.

At some point, Jimin lowered the volume to focus solely on you. You curled deeper into the couch beside him, your thighs somehow touching and shoulders inches apart. Jimin’s head leaned against the cushion and he continued to smile in a way which made your heart flip.

“Here’s a question,” you murmured, no longer pretending to watch the movie.

His eyes gleamed in the darkness. “What?”

“Why’d you tell Sabrina you only wanted to be friends?”

Briefly, his eyes widened. “How did… you know about that?”

“She told me.”

“Hm.” Jimin gave you a dubious look but moved past it. Sabrina had begun hanging out with your friends as of late. “But alright, I’ll answer. If I do though, you need to answer one of my questions. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“So, I was single when I came to Russet.” Jimin paused. “It was the first time in a long time, and I may have hooked up with a couple of people.”

“Hm,” you said tightly.

His eyes danced with amusement. “Jealous?”

“Answer the question.”

He laughed. “Anyways, I only hooked up with Sabrina the one time. Afterwards…” Jimin sighed. “I felt kind of weird about her asking me to switch partners. Then I overheard what she said about Ari at weigh-ins and just didn’t feel like anything more... Plus, there was the other reason.”

“And what was the other reason?”

“I was starting to like you,” he said, a bit softer. “The day you said you wanted to be friends was a giant weight from my chest. And the more relaxed you were around me, the more… I don’t know. The more I liked you, I guess. My mom has always called me her hopeless romantic,” Jimin said with a smile. “I don’t know about that, but I can be single-minded when I like someone. That was part of the reason I told Sabrina we shouldn’t hook up anymore.”

“Oh,” you whispered.

His smile turned lopsided. “Does that answer your question?”

“Yeah. I guess it does.”

“My turn, then.” Smile disappearing, his gaze darkened. “Why did you really call me that night at the club?”

“Oh. That. Well, I –”

“And don’t say it was because I had a car,” Jimin interrupted. “There were a lot of people you could’ve called to help. You didn’t, though. You called me. Why?”

You hesitated before you realized there was only one answer. “I wanted to see you,” you said honestly. “I was scared, I was alone and… you were the person I wanted to see.”

Jimin’s gaze had become nearly black, the air between you thick with something unsaid. You were suddenly conscious of all each part of your body pressed to his. When Jimin shifted on the couch, you moved somehow closer.

He hesitated, then glanced at your mouth. “I don’t…” Jimin licked his lips, sounding hoarse. “I don’t want to do anything you’re not ready for.”

“You won’t,” you told him.

Something uncertain passed over his face. “Maybe we should take things slow.”

“Or,” you said slowly. “I could tell you things I like about you, instead.”

“And what would be the point of that?”

Your gaze shifted to his. “You’ve told me a lot tonight about how much you like me,” you said softly. “About how long you’ve liked me. I think it’s time I returned the favor.”

Something in his gaze cracked and he nodded. The TV in the background was quiet, only the noise from the street and the whoosh of the heater breaking the silence.

“First,” you said, glancing down at his lap. “You have really nice hands.”

Jimin’s lips twitched. “My hands? I’ve always thought they were small.”

“Wrong. They’re the perfect size. Never have they dropped me.”

“Mm, that’s a good point.”

“And your smile,” you said.

“What about it?”

“I like your smile,” you told him. “It makes me smile.”

His eyes crinkled in demonstration. “Oh, yeah?”

“And your ears.”

Jimin laughed. “My ears?”

Reaching out, you delicately traced over an edge. “I’ve spent a long time looking at your profile, Park. I know what I’m talking about here.”

As your fingers moved lower, feather-light down his jaw, Jimin’s smile disappeared.

“I like your jaw, too,” you told him.

In the darkness, his gaze glinted, and you felt his jaw tense.

“And your lips,” you added, gaze lowering. “I like those a lot.”

“Y/N…” Jimin’s eyes fluttered shut.

“Yeah?”

He slowly exhaled. “I just don’t want you to regret this.”

“Jimin.”

He opened his eyes.

Your expression was serious. “I told you I wouldn’t jump into something before I was ready,” you said, lifting your other hand. “But I’m not in love with Finn anymore. It doesn’t hurt when I think about what happened last semester. I like you, Jimin. I want you. I don’t want to keep pushing you away. I get if you’re unsure about this, though. If you’re unsure about me.”

Jimin’s gaze roamed your face. “Unsure?”

“I know I hurt you before. I shouldn’t have kissed you and ran away. But I promise this isn’t like that. I’m not running away. I’m the furthest thing from running and I –”

Cutting you off, Jimin pressed his lips to yours.

You shuddered a little, leaning into his kiss before he pulled back. Jimin exhaled, barely a breath before he kissed you again.

Noses brushing, lips lingering, the kiss slowly deepened. Your hands curled into his hair, pulling him forward to bask in his warmth. It was dizzying, how different this felt than last time. Last time you’d been heartbroken, desperately yearning each time your lips had touched.

Now, Jimin felt like air, like sunshine as you drowned in his presence. Hand grasping your waist, Jimin moved you closer so your chest nestled to his. Lifting his fingers, his touch skimmed your jaw, your hairline before he circled the nape of your neck.

Drawing away, he bit down on your lip. With a low sort of moan, Jimin sought your lips again. When his mouth opened yours, his tongue swept forward and you nearly combusted.

This was only to tease, though. Only to taste before he pulled away, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. Thumb skimming your jawline, Jimin tilted your head back to brush a kiss to your throat. Moving higher, he worshiped a slow path up the column of your neck. At your ear, he nipped gently before he returned.

Now, his kisses began to deepen. Mouths opening, your tongues brushed only briefly before he chose to withdraw. You were glad you were kissing on the couch, because suddenly your own legs felt weak underneath you.

Hand re-gripping his waist, Jimin pulled you against him. Eager, your hands found his neck and the blanket dropped to the floor. It wasn’t enough, though – you needed more, wanted to feel him fully beneath you. Rising on your knees, you swung a leg over his lap and settled on top.

Jimin hissed, his head hitting the back of his couch. Your dress had ridden up in the process, exposing your thighs – his thumbs skimmed the surface before he looked up.

“Shit,” Jimin croaked.

Smiling, you bent to kiss him again. Jimin arched upwards, each part of your body electric where you touched. He shifted his hips, granting friction and heat which made you short-circuit. Pressing yourself closer, your thighs sild backwards until they nestled around his waist.

Jimin’s hand found your spine, pulling you closer as his hips pushed upwards. You groaned when you felt him shift underneath you. The kisses grew steadily hotter, this ache in your core increasing with every touch.

“Can I…” Pulling away, Jimin glanced lower. “Can I take off the sweatshirt?”

“Yeah,” you said, a bit dazed.

Jimin didn’t waste time, helping you pull this swiftly overhead. It was tossed on the ground and when your dress was revealed, he inhaled.

Slipping his hands up your bodice, Jimin met your gaze. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he confessed, his voice hoarse.

“Do what?”

Your breath hitched when his hands skimmed your breasts, lingering in all your softest places.

“Touch you,” Jimin said. “It was torture to see you, to look at you and not be able to do this. Not how I wanted, anyways. I’d tell myself not to think about it, but…”

“Jimin.”

He paused and looked up. “Yes?”

“Touch me. Please.”

Without hesitation, Jimin slid his hands lower. Cupping your ass, he pulled you against him and allowed his other hand to drift up your spine. You shivered, closing your eyes as your head tilted back.

His hands slid up your front, over your breasts and under the straps of your dress. Jimin’s thumbs drifted lower, brushing your nipples through the fabric of your bodice. Opening your eyes, you looked down at him and saw his gaze darken.

Reaching higher, Jimin cupped the back of your neck and returned your lips to his.

He kissed you slowly, purposefully as you melted forward. Shifting against him, the kiss began to intensify. Mouths opening, your tongue swept forward in bold strokes against his. Suppressing a whimper, you ground your hips on his lap.

“Is,” you murmured, breaking free. “Is your bedroom unpacked?”

Jimin went still. “I – mostly, yeah.”

“Can I see it?”

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, releasing your thighs as he stood from the couch.

You laughed, sliding down his front as your feet hit the ground. Tugging your dress down, you followed Jimin when he grabbed your hand. He pulled you down the hall, coming to a stop at the last room on the row. Pushing open the door, he flicked on the light and came to a stop.

Stepping forward, you glanced around Jimin’s room. You recognized some of the items from the two times you’d visited Jimin in the dorms. Photos of his family were carefully hung on the wall and he had the same pillows laid over his queen-sized bed.

Turning around, you took a step backwards and sat on his bed. “It’s nice,” you said, patting the comforter. “I like it here.”

Jimin watched you, his gaze half-lidded from the hall. “I like you here.”

Cheeks heating, you watched him enter and gently shut the door. Leaning back on your elbows, you arched a brow.

“Where’d we leave off?”

Jimin exhaled as he crossed the room. “I think you were on my lap,” he said hoarsely, kneeling beside you.

You nodded, moving to straddle him as he leaned to the wall. Catching your waist with both hands, Jimin pulled you against him, kissing you roughly even before you sat down. Suddenly ravenous, his hands slid to your ass as he rolled you against him. Inhaling sharply, you sucked his lower lip between teeth as he groaned.

Reaching up, Jimin tugged on your hair as you inhaled, throat exposed for him to kiss slowly down your front. When he returned to your lips, you ground your hips impatiently over the bulge in his pants.

Shifting his weight, Jimin’s spine hit the wall. He stared at you, slightly dazed with his kiss-reddened lips. Without looking away, Jimin lifted his fingers and began undoing his shirt. You stilled, watching each inch of skin be revealed. When he reached the last button, you gave in and helped push this aside. Smiling, Jimin sat up as his shirt fell to the floor.

You weren’t sure where to look first. Hands faltering, you slid them up his abs, over his shoulders and down his biceps. He was so perfect, it almost hurt to look at. Jimin’s breath quickened as you touched him and slowly, he lowered you down to the bed.

“Enough,” he said roughly, returning your lips to his.

As you kissed it turned lazy, nothing but grinding and touching. Jimin’s hair was messy beneath the pull of your fingers. He didn’t seem to mind, his own hands digging into the curve of your thigh. Playing with the hem of your dress, he deftly slid upwards.

“Jimin,” you said, breaking free. “Unzip me.”

His gaze darkened. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Jimin nodded, following suit when you sat up beside him. Turning around, you exposed your back and Jimin began to lower the zipper. He moved slowly, taking his time as his fingers brushed skin. Holding the dress up with your hands, you waited until it was fully unzipped before releasing it to the floor.

Turning around, you found Jimin’s jaw slack.

“You…” He roughly inhaled while he scanned your body. “Lace, Y/N? Really?”

“Do you like it?” you asked.

You may have gone overboard preparing for tonight. Although you hadn’t been sure what would happen, you also hadn’t wanted to be caught off your guard. Tonight, your constant need to plan had come in handy. Beneath your dress you’d worn a crimson lace bra and panties – a matching set which Jimin seemed to like, based on his expression.

“You’re going to kill me,” he muttered, lowering his lips to your neck.

Kissing slowly down your chest, he came to a stop where the two halves joined together. Skimming the length of your torso, his hands trembled a little when he brushed the lace.

Jimin looked up. “I’m sorry I keep touching you,” he murmured. “I just – you’re driving me crazy. You’ve been driving me crazy.”

“You said that before,” you whispered.

“I meant it.”

Kissing again up your body, he lingered in places your skin was exposed. Inhaling, your eyes fluttered shut as you grasped his shoulders.

Jimin’s hand slid between your thighs. “Part them,” he murmured, and you obeyed.

Heart racing, you opened your eyes and watched Jimin drag a finger slowly up the center of your panties. Even you could feel how damp the fabric was, how wet and ready you were for him.

Lifting his finger to his lips, Jimin sucked. “You’re soaking,” he breathed, sounding eager. “So good to me.”

Lowering his head, his tongue flicked your breast. Teasing the nipple through fabric, he urged and he sucked until it was fully erect. Moving onto the next one, Jimin grazed with his teeth until it pressed wantonly into the lace cup of your bra. Moaning his name, you arched against him.

Finding your wrists, Jimin pinned you backwards as he continued. Thighs caging your waist, he kept you hostage with his exquisite torture. The lace of your bra was now drenched, Jimin sucking debauchedly through fabric.

“Jimin,” you groaned, twisting on the sheets. “Please.”

His hips rolled lazily against your center. “Not yet,” he insisted before pulling back. “Not until you make a mess of my sheets. Want to ruin these panties.”

Sliding a hand between your thighs, he lightly circled your entrance. Feeling how wet you were, Jimin softly groaned. Sitting back on his heels, he finally relented and pulled your panties down. Tossing these to the floor, he returned to your thighs and spread your legs.

Lightly, Jimin dragged the pads of his thumbs up and down your panty line. “God, you’re so perfect,” he murmured. “Got my sheets fucking soaked.”

Separating two of his fingers, he slowly dragged his digits up and down your folds. You inhaled, feeling needy while you watched him touch you. Each brush of his fingers had you dripping – teasing over your entrance, he refused to give you exactly what you wanted. Feather-light, Jimin circled your swollen clit with his finger.

Hands gripping the sheets, you could only stare while Jimin brought you closer and closer to the edge. He was barely touching you, but it was the most turned on you’d ever been in your life. Jimin’s thumb swiped over your clit, rubbing you gently as you keened in frustration, arching against him.

He continued like this until you were gasping, begging for more and then – only then – did he slide a finger inside you. Legs trembling, you arched on his mattress and stared at him, glassy-eyed. When Jimin began to move in and out, you lost all control.

Lowering his head, he closed his lips over your clit.

“Oh my god,” you whimpered as you broke apart.

Barely did he suck before you were coming undone, pulsing around his fingers. Shuddering with pleasure, you collapsed on the bed as you rode out your high. Gently, Jimin pulled out his finger and returned to your lips.

Reaching behind you, he undid the clasp of your bra and tossed this on the floor. Once you were fully naked, he pulled you against him. You felt limp, thoroughly sated, but familiar excitement began to stir at his front pressed to yours. Tilting your head, he gently kissed you while your fingers wound in his hair.

Jimin moved slow, letting you take the lead. Your core continued to throb with oversensitivity, although this seemed to lessen the longer you kissed him. Before long, your nipples were hardening as you rubbed against him. Fingers digging into your thigh, Jimin pulled this over his hip to watch you lazily grind.

Realizing he still wore pants, you lowered a hand, determined to fix this. Jimin helped, dragging the zipper down to throw both these and his boxers down on the floor.

He bent to kiss you again, but you placed a hand on his chest. “Wait,” you murmured. “I want to see you.”

Jimin exhaled, leaning back so you could take in his body. If you’d thought his chest was unreal, it was nothing compared to his trim hips, sculpted thighs and cock nestled between.

“Oh,” you said, dragging a hand down his front.

Jimin shuddered a little. He was already hard, his cock thick and pretty with a reddened tip. It made your mouth water to look at, wanting to lick up the shaft. Reaching between you, you closed your fist around him and slowly jerked him off.

You watched in fascination as Jimin responded. His jaw tightened, abs tense while you teased over his frenulum. His cock responded instinctively, hardening further the longer you touched him.

After a few minutes of this, Jimin shook his head. “No more,” he said huskily, taking your hand in his. “I’ll come if you keep doing that.”

“Oh?” you murmured, gaze darting lower.

He chuckled, a rough sound in his throat. “I like watching you come,” Jimin confessed, his cock hard between you. “It turns me on. I’m… still trying to recover from your last orgasm.”

“Oh,” you said, in a completely different way.

Jimin exhaled, hair falling forward. “I hope that doesn’t weird you out.”

“Does it… weird me out that you like giving orgasms?”

“Well, when you put it like that.”

“How else would I put it?”

His grin became devious. “You could ask for another.”

Breathless, you nodded and Jimin’s gaze darkened.

He descended your body, not wasting any time as he positioned himself between your legs. Licking slow up your center, you gasped and instinctively drew your legs higher. Jimin didn’t bother easing you into it. No, now he ate you out like he wanted to.

Kissing your folds, he returned to your clit and sucked this into his mouth. Rolling the sensitive bud with his tongue, he teased and released before you knew what was happening. He continued to do this, spreading you underneath him and bringing you close to coming, only to pull back and leave you maddeningly empty.

Spreading your folds, he began licking sweetly over your clit. This was followed by loose, lazy sucking and more tender flicks. You stared dazedly at him between your legs, the sight more erotic than anything you could’ve imagined.

Grinding his cock into the sheets, Jimin thrust his hips while he pleasured you. You could tell he enjoyed this; each grunt from his lips was more affirmation. Moving lower, he circled your cunt with his tongue just to lap up your juices. You gasped at the sensation, having never felt it before. Flicking your clit with his thumb, Jimin fucked your cunt with his tongue before he slowly withdrew.

Spreading you wide, he returned to your clit and you clasped a hand over your lips before a moan could escape. Each curl of his tongue left you gasping, writhing beneath the pleasurable onslaught of his mouth. Pulling away, Jimin pressed a gentle kiss to your thigh before he rose up your body.

At your mouth, he kissed your fingers. “You don’t have to be quiet,” he told you. “I want to hear the noises you make, Y/N. It makes me feel good.”

Removing your hand, you slowly nodded.

Jimin just grinned, dropping between your legs to begin eating you out again. This time, you didn’t hold back. Jimin seemed to appreciate this as you slipped further from control. He was so good with his mouth, making you see stars as your legs started to shudder. When he slid his finger inside you and fingered you again, your hands fisted in the sheets.

“Ji-jimin,” you gasped, writhing beneath him. “Jimin, I – oh.”

He began to move faster, adding a second finger as your insides clenched around him. Everything tightened, hovering at a breaking point while Jimin continued, relentless. His mouth on your clit, his fingers inside you – everything broke apart when you came, gasping his name.

Jimin didn’t move, kissing your sex as you slowly came down. He lapped at your sex, licking up your arousal before withdrawing his fingers. Once your breathing had steadied, Jimin returned to the sheets beside you.

“Good?” he breathed, draping an arm over your waist.

“Oh my god, yes,” you exhaled, burying your face in his chest.

He laughed, pulling you closer. Jimin started to pull away, which made you look up and frown.

“What are you doing?” you said.

He paused. “I’m looking for a tissue.”

“Why?”

“I… I’m kind of at a loss here.”

“No, I mean why now,” you said, baffled. “I can come again, Jimin. I want to come with you inside me.”

Jimin stared at you a moment.

“Unless…” Uncertain, you hesitated. “You don’t want to…?”

“Fuck,” Jimin muttered, sounding hoarse. “No – I want to. I really want to. Are you sure, though?” he said, reaching to open the side drawer of his bed.

You grinned when he pulled out a condom, ripping this open.

“I’m sure,” you murmured, moving closer.

Jimin rolled the condom onto himself, pausing before he went any further. Shifting his weight so he hovered over you, Jimin searched your gaze. Reaching lower, you casually stroked his cock and guided him to your center.

He didn’t enter yet, content to take his time. Instead, Jimin bent and kissed you, dragging a hand down your side. His fingers paused at your breast, tweaking your nipple until it stood fully erect. Moving to your waist, he curved under your ass and lifted your hips to his.

Arching upwards, you felt his cock brush your center. The touch made you pant, wanting him inside you and wanting it now. Rolling over his length, you marveled at the feel of him between your legs. Having him so close and not having him inside you was maddening.

“Jimin,” you whimpered.

“Yeah?” he murmured, continuing to thrust between your thighs.

“Please,” you begged him.

“Alright, baby,” he said and rolled you onto your back.

It was the first time he’d used the endearment, sending a wave of warmth through you as your legs parted. Reaching lower, Jimin positioned himself at your entrance. It took him a moment to work his way in; you were so wet, he needed a second try. With only his tip inside, you immediately clenched and buried your head in his shoulder.

Lightly, Jimin brushed a kiss to your hair. “Relax, baby,” he murmured, making you glance up. “I’ll make you feel good. I promise.”

Slowly, you nodded. “Okay.”

Laying slowly back down, you tried to relax while he worked his way deeper. With slow, shallow thrusts, Jimin finally bottomed out and you stared at him in amazement. His cock was thicker than you were used to and stuffed to the brim like this, you felt so full. Glancing down, you saw his hips nestled snugly to yours.

When you looked up, Jimin met your gaze. “I’m sorry,” he exhaled, hanging his head. “I just – I need a minute.”

“What’s wrong?” you blurted, immediately worried.

A smile passed over his lips. “Nothing’s wrong.” He looked up. “You’re just… fuck. I feel like a damn virgin. You’re so tight and wet, I’m losing my mind.”

Hearing him say this sent a shiver through you. Shifting your hips, you reveled in the sensation of him moving inside you.

Jimin groaned. “No,” he protested. “You can’t do that right now.”

“Do what?”

“Try and make me move,” he murmured. “I know you can’t see yourself, so you can’t see how hot you look. Tits out, pussy spread and dripping all over my cock.”

“Oh,” you breathed.

“Sounding like that.”

“Jimin. If you don’t –”

He suddenly thrust deeper, grinding his pelvis against your core and making you groan. Speechless, you stared as he slowly pulled out. Jimin teased you with his tip, moving a few inches back in before he thrust again.

���Oh,” you groaned, jolted upwards on the bed.

His gaze dropped to your chest. “Fuck,” Jimin said quietly, dropping down to an elbow.

He moved again in earnest, thrusting slowly in and pulling back out. It made your breath catch, needing more but loving the torture. It was torture to feel every inch of him and have Jimin continue to hold back. You knew he could go faster, deeper, but wanted to stay in control.

Dropping his head, Jimin slowly kissed your neck. His cock continued to move, fucking you slowly as your legs opened wider.

“Jimin,” you whimpered.

Your hips chased after his, hoping to coerce him deeper.

He smirked. “Yes, baby?”

“Please,” you said, arching against him. “I want more.”

“You want it harder?”

As he said this, Jimin increased his strength. Keeping the tempo the same, each thrust of his cock had your lips parting with pleasure.

“Yes,” you whimpered, barely hanging on.

“And faster? You want that, too?”

You nodded, slack-jawed as Jimin sped up the pace. His cock began to pound into you, hand fisting in sheets as he gave it to you hard. Arching underneath him, your hands dragged down his back as Jimin fully let go. With each thrust of his hips, his pelvis brushed your clit and yet, it still wasn’t enough.

“More?” he teased, continuing to fuck you.

“More,” you whimpered, sliding your hands up your breasts. Tweaking the nipples, you watched his gaze harden. “I want more, Jimin.”

He immediately moved, as though he’d been waiting for this. Grasping your ankles in one hand, he lifted them high overhead and pulled his cock out. You gasped when he did so, your hands falling to the side while you were put on display. The position pushed your pussy lips together, giving an incredible view of your dripping cunt.

Jimin plunged his cock back inside, nearly making you scream. It felt so deep this way – so deep and hard and deliciously wanton. Jimin fucked you from above, hips slamming into you and making your breasts bounce.

Jimin groaned, his hips never faltering. “Touch them,” he said, lowering your ankles to one shoulder. “Touch your tits for me, baby.”

You obeyed, hands sliding over your breasts to tease your nipples. This sent a shock of pleasure straight to your core and Jimin hammered your g-spot, making you see stars. Jaw slack, you could only lie there and take it while he made you come.

It was too much, the wave of pleasure threatening to overwhelm, but then Jimin leaned forward and you finally snapped. You felt him release into the condom as you fell apart, rope after rope of hot cum inside you.

Eventually, Jimin softened and fell onto his elbow. As he opened his eyes, he sought your gaze and you smiled. His cheeks were flushed, his hair dark and sweaty and you couldn’t help the deep surge of affection within you.

“I don’t know about you,” he murmured. “But that was pretty fucking incredible.”

“Same here,” you whispered. “I’d like to do it again sometime.”

“Three orgasms weren’t enough?”

“Were they enough for you?”

“No.” Jimin laughed. “I could watch you come all night. But we should probably get you cleaned up and all that.”

“Probably,” you agreed, although you made no effort to move.

Eventually Jimin sighed and gently pulled out. Tossing his condom in the trash, he showed you to the bathroom and let you do what you needed to do. When you returned, Jimin was on top of his bed. He’d put back on his boxers and held out his sweatshirt.

“I thought you might want this,” he said, uncertain.

Smiling, you took it and lowered it over your head. Climbing beside him on the bed, you rested your head on his shoulder and cuddled beside him. Listening to his breathing, you concentrated until yours started to match.

Outside, cheers erupted from the street. Scrambling upwards, you fought to look out Jimin’s side window. As you hurried to see what the commotion was about, Jimin groaned when you flashed him your bare ass, but followed suit.

Glancing outside, you realized it must have turned midnight. Fireworks went off over the skyline, people cheered below, and someone had lit a sparkler on the street. Voices drifted higher, wishing each other a happy new year as slowly, you turned around to face Jimin.

He smiled at you, his happiness clear when he pulled you to him. A dizzying rush of what-if’s and excitement went through you and somehow, you knew this would be only the beginning.

“Happy new year,” he murmured.

“Happy new year,” you whispered, tilting your face up to his.

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading this series 😊 It’s been a whirlwind, so thank you for sticking with our main characters throughout the journey! I hope you enjoyed and are having a wonderful holiday season :) happy (almost) new year!

RAISE THE BARRE MASTERLIST 

© kpopfanfictrash, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[purelyfiction]

Light in The Dark (3)

Modern Obi-Wan Kenobi x (F) Reader | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 |

Word Count: 3,303 words

Summary: After falling out of touch with Obi-Wan, you’re worried you’ve messed things up with him. Instead, you’re greeted with countless hours of 1-1 time with him. At a very pricey cost.

Triggers: depictions of hospitals, medical terms, implied surgical procedure, hospital setting

Authors note: If you haven’t noticed this has taken a very long time for me to write. I am so so sorry. I also am sorry it’s shorter than the others, I wanted to get something out to you guys sooner or later. So ta-da here it is! If you liked it consider buying me a coffee! It’s not necessary but as a broke college grad I appreciate anything. :) Enjoy this chapter!!

Maybe you had gotten your hopes up. You’d gone back to your apartment after your run in with Ben’s roommate...er… roommates? You weren’t sure what the situation was now that Anakin was engaged…. And expecting. Either way, you settled in for the night and grabbed your phone to match with Ben on the app you could’ve sworn he had shown you. You’d swiped left for so long that the pad of your thumb was starting to go numb, and the options were repeating - with no sign of the ER Doctor who lived in your building. Maybe he had deleted his profile after you saw him swipe?

You tried to forget about it as the days went on, but it was difficult not to. Especially when the check ins became simple texts.

Dr. Obi-Wan Kenobi (Ben): Doing well?

You: As much as I can be. Running low on sustenance. Placing a grocery order here in the next two hours.

Dr. Obi-Wan Kenobi (Ben): I can swing by from the hospital if you need me to? I know delivery tends to beat up the old wallet.

You: I think you’ve done enough for me, Ben. Really, I still can’t pay you back for sending out my laundry…

That had been the last time you’d seen him: him showing up at your door with a laundry bag asking for all your dirty clothes, requesting that you don’t ask him what it was about. Two business days later, your clothes returned to your doorstep from a ‘Luxe Laundry Services’ company, the bill already paid for.

So when you couldn’t find him on the app, you were pretty certain he’d hidden himself, and was just being neighborly. He’d text every now and then, but as the days turned into weeks, it slowly turned into a weekly check in, and you think he had missed a few of them. Despite that, you’d scheduled the doctor’s appointment he’d asked you to, and were headed into the appointment. Sat in the chair in the examination room, you smile at the older man as he steps into the room. He recites your name before introducing himself. “Dr. Jinn. Pleasure to meet you. Dr. Kenobi forwarded me the initial notes from your ER visit. So, we’re going to do another round of x-rays, and see where we go from here.” He grins before sending someone in to take you to the x-ray room.

With imaging under your belt, you wait for Dr. Jinn to call you into his office. Soon, a nurse is grabbing you and opening a door letting you see the man looking over the prints, glasses on the bridge of his nose with his long hair sitting behind a solid wood desk. He greets you again, however not as upbeat as the first time. You consider that a bad sign as you sit in the chair facing him. With the door shut, he takes his glasses off with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. Where have you seen that expression before?

Your thoughts are taken away as Dr. Jinn continues to go over what your original injury entailed, and begins to show you your new x-rays. “I am afraid there’s been no progress in your injury. We typically see the ligament beginning to heal at this point in recovery. In your case, there is no evidence of that.” He frowns, making your jaw slack slightly.

“It’s.. it’s been six weeks. A month and… nothing?” You sigh, shaking your head slightly. “I- That doesn’t mean what I think it does… does it?” You wince in expectation of the worst, and it comes.

“Unfortunately, it does. It’s a surgery I’ve done a thousand times, and I can guarantee that the rehabilitation is not going to be much different from the rest and rehab method we were going to use originally.” Your stomach drops. You don’t want surgery. You don’t want the bills. You just want this living nightmare to end. Dr. Jinn asks you to be patient as he checks to see what his schedule is like. Your eyes wander, trying to get the tight feeling in your chest to go away. As they do, they find the walnut stained bookcase on the far end of the room. Medical books line the shelves, in between framed photos. In one of them sits Dr. Jinn with a young boy playing a game of some sort. The next is Jinn with the same boy, just a little bit older posing at what looks to be a science fair. The following two frames hold multiple photos. Each holds a photo of the duo, with the younger of the two in graduation attire. It takes a minute, but it sinks in when you finally make out the details of his face. Dr. Jinn notices your distant gaze and follows it before smiling. “Yes, that would indeed be Dr. Kenobi.” He looks at you when you meet his face and laughs a little as an eyebrow raises. “I was Obi-Wan’s adoptive father. He came into my life when he was eight years old.” He explains as he prints out something at the printer at his desk.

“Small world.” You mumble, a slow nod showing your surprise. “Has he told you that we live in the same building?” The question comes as small talk, still moving to try to halt the process of scheduling the most expensive procedure of your life.

“I don’t think he has. Even smaller world in that case.” He chuckles before tilting the monitor screen in your direction to look over the calendar he has. The two of you discuss in great detail what the timeline of the surgery would look like, how the procedure is done, and of course when you would be able to get it done. As you’re looking at a month out, Dr. Jinn’s phone rings, startling the both of you. He answers, turning toward the wall - as if that would make you suddenly unaware of what he was saying. He’s soon hanging up the call and turning back to face you. “Well, it seems as though I have an opening sooner than I thought.” He speaks, moving to the calendar and you watch the mouse flutter across the screen. It lands on the following Monday.

“Th-that’s four days from now.” He looks at you and gives a reassuring gaze. “Well, the sooner we get the procedure done, the sooner you can begin to heal.” The doctor looks at you, waiting for a response. You swallow the lump in your throat before nodding. “Alright, I guess we can do that…”

Those four days seem to pass in the blink of an eye. You’d told Ben that you’d needed surgery, and he’d reassured you over a million times. It’s in and out. Super simple and quick, you’ll be awake before you know it.

That didn’t ease the anxiety that filled you as you’re rolled back to a curtained off room, given a gown and left to change. Once you’re dressed and resting on the cot, you’re staring at the injury in front of you. Dr. Jinn had removed the cast at your appointment, giving you a wrapping until they put a new boot on it. You jump as the curtain is pulled back but immediately calm at the face in front of you. “What are you doing here?” Your tone suggests you’re yelling at him, but Ben’s shrugging. “I was in the area. Thought I’d stop by.”

“Right, because you just happen to be in the surgery prep area of the hospital.” You comment as he’s grabbing one of the nearby spinning stools, bringing you back to the night you met. “What? I’m telling the truth.” He mocks confusion, moving to take your hand. “I knew you were nervous about this so I wanted to be the one to check in on you, give you your IV.” He offers, moving to the supplies to do just that.

“I don’t think that’s gonna make me feel any better.” You tease, looking at him, and he gives a very calm look. “You will.” He reassures, “I spoke with my father and he’s going to page me at every checkpoint. There will be not a single thing about your surgery that I don’t know about.” He’s got your gaze, looking at you with a grin, which you return, happy before an expletive leaves you, looking to your hand to find an IV already inserted.

“You tricked me.” You whine, and he chuckles, taping it to your hand. “It worked, didn’t it?” Ben stands up again, looking at you with sincerity. “You’re going to be fine, darling.”

Your stomach flips. And it’s not from the impending doom of surgery. He looks at you when you speak again. “I have one condition.” You offer, looking at him.

“Shoot.” Ben chuckles and you look at him. “We will go on a date if I come out of this alive.” He looks at you with a grin. “You will come out of this. There’s no debating that.” As a nurse comes in with anesthesiology, you return the grin.

“That’s what I’m counting on Dr. Kenobi.” He nods, moving out of the way and disappearing with ease to head back to work. Soon enough, you’re being rolled to the OR, the kind eyes of Dr. Jinn greeting you behind his mask as a nurse slips a haircap over your head. He goes on to reassure you that the team in the room would work for the next two hours. During that time, you’re helped onto the table, and you continue to discuss with the Doctor above you. Before you even realize it, you’re asleep.

When you wake, not only do you feel groggy, but you feel incredibly light headed. Jinn had told you that you’d stay in recovery til you woke up, and then you’d be on your way home. However, this is not the recovery wing, you discover looking around the room. You spot pain killers, liquids and is that blood? You confirm that there is indeed an active blood transfusion on your IV pole. Eyes moving around the room, the door opens and blue eyes greet yours, which calms you, immensely. “Well look who made it out of the OR.” He teases, pulling up a chair, looking at you. His eyes seem to droop with exhaustion.

“Ben, how long have you been up?” As you speak you find your throat incredibly sore and irritated. However, it’s ironic that the first question in the conversation is directed to the individual not in the hospital bed. Despite that, he answers.

“I do believe it was fif...teen hours?” He’s thinking as he’s speaking, evident by the pause in his words as he rolls his wrist over to look at the silver watch there. “Oh, look at that. I was wrong, seventeen hours, my dear.” He corrects himself, leaning up against the wall in front of your bed. You look at him with concern and he’s immediately retorting back to you. “Now, if we need to be worried about anyone, it’s you, young one. Your blood pressure dropped drastically, and surprisingly you lost a decent amount of blood. They want to ensure you’ll be alright after that mishap. They’re going to keep you overnight for observation. If nothing else happens and your vitals improve, you’ll be fit to go home. If not, you’ll be sticking around a bit longer.”

As he speaks, all you see are the dollar signs leaving his tongue. Kriff, how would you pay for all of this? It’s almost like he reads your mind - maybe you had a look of disgust on your features - but he reassuringly steps forward. “I know it’s not ideal, but I’d hate to come to your apartment when I pick you up for our date and find you laid out on the floor.” Ben’s words are clearly teasing, but it reminds you of your agreement.

“You’re really going to go out with a patient? Isn’t there something against that in the hospital policy or something?” You tease, watching him relax into the wall again. It’s then that you notice how unkempt his hair is. As though he’s been messing with it for hours. How dark the circles under his eyes are. You wonder if Jinn had been true to his word - had told him that you’d dropped during surgery. Did he worry? Was that what this was? Not tiredness solely, but a bit of relief over hours of concern? Unanswered questions flitting about that brain of his?

Obi-Wan has moved to the small couch in the corner of the room, lounging back on it. He’s clearly off the clock, as there is a lack of white coat, and while the button up and slacks are still present, he looks absolutely gutted from work. “Well, I believe the exact wording is ‘any patients within your care’. Last I checked, you no longer fall under my watch, Dr. Quigon does.” He snickers, causing you to shake your head slowly. You’re rather exhausted, maybe an effect from the anesthetic, or the pain meds, you’re sure it’s one of the two of them. Your gaze seems to linger, because Ben speaks again, looking at you. “Are you feeling quite alright?” He’s leaning forward, hair falling in his face, a large hand pushing it out of the way quickly, blue eyes glossing over the multiple screens surrounding you.

A shrug falls over you. Honestly? Not one of your better days. There’s a bit of a churn in your stomach, your eyes are sore and the room tends to spin every now and then - despite how still you are. But, none of that is said. “I’ve been better.” You don’t want him to work, not when he’s clearly off the clock. “Go home, Ben. You clearly need to sleep.”

The ashy blonde shakes his head. “Ah ah ah. You’re not getting rid of me that quickly. You need to sleep too. How about another condition?” A smirk paints itself onto his lips, making you smile.

“Let’s hear it, Kenobi.” A taunt comes so easily to you, and he chuckles, getting up and squatting down near the bed, arms resting on the fall guards on the bed. He’s close to you. Closer than he has been in a while - maybe ever.

“Both of us will sleep. I’ll make a bed out of this pull out couch in here, and you get acquainted with the back of your eyelids. Deal?” The way he says it makes you giggle, a hand moving to rub at eyes, the soreness radiating through it as you move. He’s right, as he usually is. You need to sleep. You’re worried about missing time with him that you wouldn’t have gotten otherwise. After barely seeing him the past few weeks, and now having his undivided attention, you feel a little spoiled.

“Fine, Doctor. But you have to wake me up if they bring me food. I haven’t eaten at all today, they wouldn’t let me before they took me into the OR.” You frown and Ben’s hand taps yours fondly.

“Sounds like a plan. Now sleep, sweetheart, you need the rest.” With such comforting words, you find it easy to let your eyes settle closed.

Waking up again greets you with a setting sun, and a hand on your shoulder. Ben’s waking you up - as promised - with a full tray of food in front of you. “Now, I am going to warn you… the food isn’t the best.” He advises, pulling the plastic cloche from the dishes in front of you. It’s far more appetizing than he’s cautioned, so with ease, you’re lifting a fork, digging it. Your first bite you hum with a pleasant surprise, moving to the next item. You then take inventory of everything, slowly making dents in the piles of food. Ben simply watches, granola bar in hand. Probably from one of the many vending machines that lined the hallways. When you’re finally finished, he looks at you with amusement. “Well Chef? What’s the verdict?” A wide grin shows as he speaks, showing that he remembered your well spent hours of Bake Off and Hell’s Kitchen.

“Well, the chicken was far too dry. The very reason why a good portion of it remains on the plate.” Using the fork, you point to the uneaten breast. “The green beans, a little bland. Could’ve done without the swimming pool factor, this isn’t the Olympic trials.” A laugh leaves him as your fork splashes in the remaining water in the dish. “The cornbread was actually very good. Moist. Had great corn kernel to cornmeal ratio.” Ben’s eyebrows are raised at how seriously you’re taking this. “The pudding - excellent. Snakpak knows how to make a pudding.” You joke before picking up the remaining carton of apple juice. “I can’t complain about the apple juice, it’s apple juice.” You shrug. Ben gives a nod.

“Thank you Chef. I will let the kitchen know.” He laughs, moving the tray out of the way, moving the rolling table closer to the door before finally settling in again. “I didn’t realize you were such a good critic.” The blonde looks at you with a glint of amusement in his features.

“I’m a writer, remember? It’s kind of just describing what’s in front of me… if that makes… sense?” You trail off, only because you’re unsure if there’s any logic in your explanation. If there had been, Ben’s not pointing out any flaws, simply nodding.

“No, no it does. I’m following.” A hearty laugh leaves him as his wrist rolls toward him again - and you know he’s looking at the time. You seem to look at him with a pout because he’s shaking his head. “I’m not leaving you anytime soon, darling. Simply looking to the time. Visiting hours are over soon and I need to pull on my white coat once they are.” Your brows furrowed at this.

“Ben, are you seriously using your coat as a ploy to fool the nurses?” You question, and he nods.

“What are they going to do, kick me out of the building? I work here, I have to come back at some point.” He reassures, a skeptical look coming to your features as you visually disagree with him.

“Don’t be stupid. They’re gonna know.” You smirk at his unsound reasoning before he shrugs.

“Whatever I have to do to keep you company.”

Ben ends up getting kicked out of your room come 7:30. White coat and all, he’s promising to come visit on his rounds in the morning (under the condition that he goes home, gets something to eat, shower and sleep some before he returns). And he does. You know he does because when you wake up, he’s looking over your chart with haste, frowning at everything he sees. “Your fever rose substantially last night and the medications they gave you to reduce them aren’t exactly working their best.” He offers with concern highlighting his voice.

This wasn’t news to you. You’d woken up at 2AM shivering like no tomorrow, begging for more blankets and some water. You can’t remember the last time you were sick, but it certainly wasn’t something you’d been expecting as a result of the surgery. “Okay… so what are you going to do?” He’s scribbling down things and offering up solutions: not that any of them make any sense to you. “Ben.” You stop him mid ramble and blue eyes look at you with concern. “If I were you, what treatment would you give yourself.” You pose the question and he’s quick as a whip with his response. “Do that. Can I sleep now?”

Tagging: (if you would like added to this list, message me please!) 

@itsdameron @smileygirl08 @gamsbeans @bella-law (non-requested but have expressed interest in the series) @grapemartini @lellokitty @thatgirlfromthatplace

[dancingamongstdust]

Creepypasta Scenarios - First Meeting (Part 3)

I’ve opened requests now, if anybody is interested. Here’s the post:

Requests

Lost Silver

As stupid as it sounds, the game didn’t scare you.

It had started as a joke, something passed around your friend group after it had been discovered. The cartridge was just a janky version of a Pokémon game that was apparently spooky and so, everybody had taken turns messing around with it. They all said creepy things started happening but nothing too bad.

When it was your turn, you had been fully expecting something out of a horror movie. Instead, you had gotten a game that just had audio cut offs and weird notes warning you to stay out. It wasn’t all together scary.

You mentioned this to the next person you gave the game to in your friend group and they had laughed, saying it would probably ring true for them also.

But for some reason, your ally didn’t manifest.

Less than two days later, they practically threw the game at the rest of you and ran away sprouting things about curses. After that, the appeal of playing it kind of went away.

Nobody wanted to buy it and apparently throwing it out wasn’t a suggestion. So you ended up getting it.

Curiosity soon got the better of you and you booted up the game again, really sure that it would do something absolutely crazy but it never did. It ran like it always had with only that one file being completed.

So you deleted the file.

And nothing happened.

The next day, when you booted up the game, the file had simply returned as though you hadn’t deleted it in the first place. A similar thing occurred the next time. And the next.

Eventually you gave up and just started your own game. There, everything ran like it was meant to and you were beginning to think that your friends had all been imagining stuff. Maybe their paranoid got to them or something like that?

But eventually, the nightmares started. And they were bad.

You couldn’t remember exactly what happened during them. They were a swirling mess of games and glitches, horrible things spelled out in letters and blood covering everything. You would always wake up right when they seemed to be coming to a pivotal point. You’d find yourself dragged into a graveyard and then you’d wake up screaming

It was awful. You hardly got any sleep during them and they seemed to haunt you every night, keeping you up until the early hours of the morning.

But the worst only came when you didn’t wake up.

When you were dragged to the grave and looked down to see the ellipsis where the name should be. A punch to the gut that reminded you of what the game file was called. A confirmation of what was causing this dream.

You stared at it for ages before your eyes drifted up and you met his gaze. He was covered in blood, it leaked from every orifice and limb. It stained his dirty clothing even worse.

While you were staring, the world seemed to distort even though he didn’t. The game world melted away and your bedroom slowly reappeared.

It wasn’t until you saw car headlights move past your window – casting awful shadows across the room – that you realised you were no longer dreaming. He wasn’t a figment of your imagination.

The temperature in the room plummeted and you began to slowly reach for a weapon of some kind. He turned to look at what you were watching. His head tilted to the side and a glitch raced across his body before he vanished into thin air. Flicking on the lights didn’t show him hiding or cowering.

Perhaps your friends weren’t crazy after all.

Masky

“You know, if we had been a little more patient, none of this would have happened,” your sibling lectured. “We could be relaxing inside the car without having to worry about a bloody flash flood coming down from the sky.”

You shoved their back, forcing them to stumble a little as they went through the door. “Chances are the river’s going to burst its banks anyway. We would have been stuck in traffic for hours because the bridge is blocked off.”

“At least we would have been dry,” they muttered, running their fingers through their hair. “And not trapped inside an abandoned building.”

You rolled your eyes and made your way over the rubble to settle down on a camping chair. “Don’t even start. This place has been a hangout for my friends and I for ages. There’s never been a single problem bigger than a few spiders.”

“Till a landlord shows up,” they scoffed.

“Then we’ll move to the forest,” you joked. “I’m sure there’s a good bear cave we can use.”

“I’m going to be an only child,” they said, rolling their eyes. Still, they made their way over and sat. “How long do you think we have until the storm dies down?”

You relaxed back into the chair and smiled up at the asbestos-filled ceiling. “From the sound of it, a while.”

It wouldn’t have been the first time you had taken a nap in the building. You were scared of giant cockroaches coming to eat you once. You had gotten used to it since then but this time when you woke up, you were uneasy.

Glancing around, nothing was out of the ordinary. Your sibling was snoring in the chair next to you and outside the rain was pounding the roof.

You sat upright. Sometimes was definitely wrong.

Pulling your phone from your pocket, you got up from the chair and began walking as quietly as you could through the house. It had always been tiny and practically void of furniture, but the few rooms provided ample hiding spots.

Nothing but rubble was in most of the rooms but, in what you presumed had once been a bathroom, you found a person.

He had his back to you but when you pushed the door open to peer in, he spun around, his hand flying to his side. He was wearing a white mask, dark features etched onto it, and an orange jacket. A dark stain ran up the right side of it, emanating from under his hand. The oddness of his clothing made you immediately back away from the door, finger twitching on your cell phone in case you needed to call for help.

The two of you stared at each other in silence.

You were lost about what to say or do. The stain on his jacket was spreading and the more you stared at it, the more you became convinced it was blood. “Are you okay?” you finally managed to ask.

It took him a while to respond but then he nodded. The mask was unnerving you. You didn’t like not being able to see a person’s facial expressions.

“I don’t mean to pry or anything, but it really looks like you’re bleeding,” you said. “And quite badly. I can call for an ambulance or something although…” you turned your attention to the window behind his head. “I’m not sure they’ll be able to get anywhere with this weather.”

He stepped backward. “I’m fine,” he said, so soft you barely caught it. “I thought this place was abandoned.”

“It normally is,” you answered. “But we had to avoid the storm. I’m guessing that’s why you’re here also?”

“Yes,” he responded.

You waited or him to say something more, but all you got was silence. He had moved further away and now he had his back against the window. Part of you wanted to turn around and go back to your sibling but you were unsure about turning your back on the strange man.

The mask made you scared he could stab you or something.

Somebody calling your name made you turn your head on instinct. Your sibling must have woken up and realised you were missing.

Quickly, you turned back to the man, but he had disappeared. Rain spat through the now open window.

Nurse Ann

Everybody always warned you about exploring old buildings. They would yell about how many things could injure or kill you. Stray animals, drug addicts, old equipment, and all that. You had heard just about every warning imaginable. Ghosts were pretty commonly mentioned also.

But killer nurse was a new one.

“Come on, just give me a little more information,” you nagged. “I’m going there whether you’re with me or not so you may as well just tell me what you’ve heard.”

Your friend (and partner in crime for most ventures) groaned. “It’s not much. They just say that she guards the place and if you get too close, she’ll run you off with a chainsaw. Some people have died from injuries they got while there. Let’s just give this one a miss, alright?”

But you were not in agreement at all.

“Maybe she’s cute though,” you teased.

They didn’t find that funny and you didn’t push them to come with you. So later that evening, you snuck in by yourself.

The hospital was old with crumbling walls and smashed windows. It was hidden from the public by means of a tall barbed-wire fence and a substantial distance of open garden. Nothing too extreme for you and definitely worth the potential items you’d find inside. When hospitals went under, they often left tons of awesome stuff just scattered around.

You’d never sold anything you found in your abandoned building dives. They were more collectables than anything else but they meant quite a bit to you.

There weren’t any signs of crazy nurses as you approached the place. Nobody came running at you with a chainsaw at least. You didn’t even find evidence of squatters who could sometimes pose some danger.

After deciding it was safe enough, you lifted yourself through one of the windows and began to explore.

Honestly, it was creepy. Everything was way too old to be worth collecting and there were too many unidentifiable stains for your liking. The water damage was bad. It looked like the ceiling was there for aesthetics only and several rooms creaked too much for you to comfortably cross them.

And that was even without the awkward feeling of being watched.

You told yourself that it was just superstition but you couldn’t shake it. Every few seconds saw you looking over your shoulder in anticipation. It distracted you from keeping your eye on the path in front of you and the loud crack reached your ears too late.

The floor gave out and you fell through. Your shoulder hit some kind of metal object as you landed in the room below. Painful shocks ripped through your body and your head knocked against the floor with a heavy thud.

Stars danced in front of your vision and you raised your hand to the top of your head. Blood coated your hand when you lowered it to look.

Shit.

Shakily, you tried to pull yourself up but quickly found that your arm was too sore. Instead, you pulled your phone from your pocket and sent off the emergency text to your friend.

The world faded to black not long after that.

When you woke up next, you were in your room with a bandage wrapped around your head. You had felt like absolute crap but still gotten up to thank them for the save. They had nodded and warned you to be more careful, happy that you had been outside the hospital so they didn’t have to look for too long.

Before you could even think about how you had crawled there, they asked how you had managed to do your own stitches so nicely.

Puppeteer

Your camera was on 10% battery.

Grumbling, you shoved it into your bag and cursed your past self for forgetting to put it on charge. In order to get the best sunrise photos, you had found yourself waking up earlier and earlier. It was tiring but it was worth it… most of the time.

You just hoped that at least one of your pictures was usable but you could only check on them once you got home.

The streetlight above your head flickered as you walked past. It wasn’t unusual but when you were the only person awake for miles around, it was awfully creepy.

Putting your hands into your jacket pockets, you continued strolling back home. The neighborhood had never been dangerous and despite living in the area for your entire life, no incidents made you want to stop walking around at night.

Deciding that you wanted to take a precautionary shot, you headed for your neighbour’s house first. They had an arch covered in jasmine flowers that made for some perfectly safe photos and they never minded your presence.

After making your way there and getting a few photos, you were treated to the fright of your life when their began howling and barking. It wasn’t aimed at you but you didn’t like the noise regardless.

As you rounded the corner of the house, planning on racing back to your own home, you encountered the dog’s target.

A man – cloaked in the darkness and barely illuminated by the streetlight – opening one of the windows with ease. Irritated by the dog, he didn’t notice you until your finger twitched around the shutter of your camera. There was a flash.

His head snapped up and you screamed.

The man’s complexation was literally grey. He wasn’t just ill, he was the colour of storm clouds. Golden eyes with no pupils glared at you and froze you in place. Whatever he was, this man was the furthest thing from human.

Your scream woke your neighbors. The sound of movement began coming from inside the house.

He abandoned the window, stalking towards you. The air tingled like it was expecting a lightning storm. Golden tendrils grew from his fingertips and shot towards you. They had you pinned in an instant.

You struggled against them and opened your mouth to scream again but they wrapped around your head, forcing your jaw shut.

This was how you died… tears spilled down your cheeks at the realization. You were going to be an unsolved murder. All you hoped was you got a good picture of him.

Your neighbor’s front door opened and great dane let out an ear-splitting bark as he raced toward you.

The man, or creature, or monster, or whatever he was, released you to face the dog. He let it approach before vanishing into a cloud of smoke as its jaws reached him.

“What was that?” the timid voice brought you back into reality.

“It was trying to get into your house,” you said. “I screamed when I saw it and then it grabbed me.” Your voice changed to a whimper as reality hit you. You nearly died.

The small child of the house came over to hug your leg. “I’m sure Puppet didn’t mean to scare you,” she said. “He always comes to visit but he doesn’t like it when people make noise. You shouldn’t scream when you see him again.”

You made eye-contact with the parents and they wore expressions of horror at their daughter’s words.

“Puppet?” you asked in a small voice.

She nodded rapidly. “He says he stops by because he likes watching people. I think that he’s watching us all right now! But he can hide in the shadows too well.”

“I’m going to go and call the police,” somebody said.

You weren’t all too focused. The feeling of being watched grew heavier and you clutched tightly at the camera in your hands.

Slenderman

You couldn’t tell if they were being serious. You hoped that they were joking. They weren’t genuinely going to…

“No,” you stated.

The two younger children both turned to look at you simultaneously. Guilt flashed across their faces as though they weren’t aware you were listening. It was as though you were asked to babysit them because you didn’t pay attention. These two should have realised that by now.

“Do you think all the stories are true?” the boy asked. “I think that they are. One of my friends said she saw a huge dog in the forest and then it ran away after eating a whole cow!”

“No way!” his twin sister shouted. “Dogs don’t eat cows, so it can’t be true!”

You put on your best intimidating expression and crossed your arms. “I don’t care if they’re true or not. There is absolutely no chance that either of you are going to go running off into the woods with bears, wolves and all kinds of other creatures.”

The two children glanced at each other and bolted for the tree line before you could grab their shirts.

Thankfully your legs were longer even if they had a head start and you managed to catch up pretty quickly. Once you caught the boy and picked him up with ease, the girl dashed behind a tree.

“Can we please just leave?” you asked nicely. “If we forget about the forest adventure thing, I promise I won’t tell your parents and I’ll get you ice cream.”

The boy was trying his hardest to get out of your hold. You were starting to think babysitting didn’t pay enough.

“I don’t want ice cream,” the girl said. “I want to go and find a unicorn.”

She darted off into the forest and you let out a deep groan. Shifting the boy’s weight over your one hip, you started walking after her. If you wanted to give chase via running, you would have to put the kid down and trust him to follow or stay.

It was obvious that wasn’t happening.

It didn’t take you too long to find the girl. Mostly because she had stopped in the middle of a weird grove in the trees. She was just staring off into the dark shadows beyond it.

As you approached her, static popped in your ears. You shook your head in an effort to displace it but the closer you got, the louder it became.

The child in your arms whimpered, clutching his head.

You softly called her name and then it appeared. It was a man-like monster, standing just in the shadows of the trees. Easily over 7ft tall and insanely thin with no facial features. Your heart jumped into your throat and your stomach tied itself into a knot.

Without taking your eyes off it, you reached out a hand and fumbled around until you grabbed the girl’s shirt.

The static was getting louder and louder. You tried to shut it out as you started moving backwards, tugging the child along after you. She wasn’t willing to move her legs. She was entranced but whether by fear or magic, you couldn’t tell.

And then it was much closer.

You stumbled in fright, letting go of the girl’s shirt and landing on your ass. The boy fell on top of you but scrambled away and hide in the bushes within the blink of an eye. You sent a silent prayer to him to run back home to the other adults.

Once again, the creature was stationary but now the static was growing to such a volume that you could imagine your ears were starting to bleed.

You reached out for the girl again slowly, but something wrapped around your leg and yanked you into the air.

It took almost a full second for you to realise that the screaming ringing in your ears was you. Whatever was holding you tightened and whipped your body through the air. It was like your leg was being ripped away.

Then you were falling.

It was some feat of luck that you managed to twist your body, so you didn’t land on your head. You lay there for a while before something poking your back made you unbury your face.

The twins were staring at you with wide eyes and the monster was nowhere in sight.

“What was –“ you couldn’t finish.

“Slenderman,” they said in perfect sync.

Splendorman

Another stop…

You couldn’t help yourself. Every time you walked past one of the posters fluttering lightly in the wind you had to stop and stare at it.

A few days ago, your dog, your beautiful and sweet puppy, had disappeared from your house without a trace. The missing posters were depressing reminders that he wasn’t home. It hadn’t taken long for your mind to spiral into the negative thoughts about how close the road was.

Damn your coworkers. One of the had suggested the road in the first place and while they hadn’t intended anything malicious, it was definitely not helping your fears.

The dog had been with you through thick and through thin… if it was dead, you may as well have lost a close family member.

Hanging your head, you dragged your eyes away from the poster and kept walking.

People bumped into you, but it was your fault. You refused to look up in case another poster distracted you. Getting home before the sun set was your only focus now.

You had tried going out and searching in all the places where your dog once spent time to no avail. Always willing to try again, you chose to drop off your bags and head out later that evening when you ran out of distractions.

As you walked through the gates in front of your house, a gust of air gently messed up your hair. A gust of wind suspiciously similar to a laugh.

Your logical mind told you it came from the street, but something made you stop in your tracks.

The walls around your property towered. There’s no possibility that somebody could be in your garden. To try and scale one of the walls, they would have been in full view of your neighbours who would have undoubtedly called the cops.

“You’re sad,” the wind whispered before you could brush off your suspicion.

Spinning wildly, you searched around for the source. You backed up until your entrance gate was behind you. You could run down to the main street with ease if you could just get your fumbling fingers to unlock things.

“Don’t run,” the wind said, this time blowing from a separate direction. “I promise I’m not going to hurt you. I just wanted to know why you’re upset.”

Is this what going insane was? Nobody around and the wind was talking to you. You had always feared losing your mind and now it was happening.

“I’m real,” the wind said. “I’m hiding because I’ll scare you if you see me.”

“I’m going mad,” you muttered, shaking your head. “If this is somebody pulling a prank on me I swear….”

The wind quietened for a bit and then it picked up again, ruffling your hair as it spoke. “If I show myself, it’ll prove that you’re not going crazy, but I don’t want to make it worse by frightening you… you’re so sad already.”

“I lost my best friend and people have been telling me he’s most likely dead,” you hissed. “Obviously I’m not in the best mood. Now I’m losing my fucking mind and talking to air.”

The atmosphere around you dropped, like it does moments before lightning strikes. You glanced at the sky in confusion. As expected, no clouds in sight.

You lowered your gaze and a 7ft tall creature covered in bright polka dots stood in front of your house.

Once you screamed, it disappeared.

“I’m sorry,” the wind said. “I knew I would scare you, but I had hoped it would show you that I’m not imaginary. I’m just trying to help.”

The gate finally opened behind you and you stumbled backwards through it, your heart sitting in your throat. A monster was in your house and it was probably going to kill you. Spinning on your heel, you took off full speed back towards the main street.

You were fully expecting it to give chase now that you hadn’t fallen for its claims of harmlessness but it didn’t.

Instead you reached the main road and only got a few strange looks because of how much you were shaking. Nothing followed you.

The wind picked up once more. “I’ll try and help,” it promised.

People walking around you should have heard it as well but none of them so much as blinked.

Ticci Toby

While you had been told that a noise limit for the forest existed, your laughter refused to cooperate. It rang through the trees and probably chased off all the animals nearby. A picnic out in a national forest was a fantastic way to reconcile with nature and to scare it all away.

With eleven people in your picnic party, chances of any creatures coming into view were already slim though so you didn’t worry too much.

“We didn’t bring nearly enough fruit,” you muttered as you dug in the basket.

“Excuse you, I brought a whole watermelon but you ate it,” somebody answered your grumble. “If you want fruit, it is spring. Go and forage for some berries.”

You snorted. “Yeah, right. I’m going to go out by myself in the middle of the one season where bears are irritable as fuck. I know I sometimes act a little impulsively, but I don’t exactly have a wish to die at the claws of a grumpy teddy.”

Your friend leaned towards you. “Is that so? What if we split into teams and made a bet? Loser has to take a dip in the river.”

“A bet?” you asked. “I’m interested.”

She grinned and snapped her fingers. “Okay, there are eleven people so I’m feeling groups of two with one impartial party as a judge. We should be fine if we make enough noise and stick within close vicinity to each other. See how many berries we can gather?”

Tipping out the picnic basket’s contents, you smirked and pushed it into her chest. “Oh, I hope you brought a swimming costume.”

Everybody teamed up with ease and grabbed one of the many containers lying on the blanket. You headed out with your partner and gave a wink to the other teams. All you needed was to find one good bush first and you had it won.

“We should split up,” your partner said. “Cover more ground.”

You nodded. “We meet up back here once we’ve found a good bush,” you agreed. “And we shout if we find any animals.”

Obviously, your plans hadn’t involved losing your footing almost directly after the two of you split.

Tumbling down the small hill, you tried your hardest to protect yourself from the bushes as you went through them. At some point, you lost your basket and by the time you had finally rolled to a stop, you had no idea where it was.

Grumbling, you stood up and started searching until something dark caught your eye. Thinking it was your basket, you made your way over.

The clearing you walked into housed a scene you could never have imagined.

A dead bear lay slumped against a tree, its fur being what had caught your eye earlier. A hatchet buried in its neck was spilling blood onto the floor around it. All that hardly compared to the man leaning against a tree.

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed. “Are you alright?”

His head immediately snapped up, allowing you to see that he was wearing a mouth guard and a pair of goggles. Blood seeped from between his fingers where they clutched against his chest, but he hardly noticed. A hatchet was hanging from his belt.

Suddenly, you were wishing you had kept your mouth shut.

He stared at you blankly for a while, an occasional twitch minorly affecting his body. Reaching up, he took off his mouthguard. “I can’t feel any pain,” he said. “So, I’m fine. Why are y-you out here? The hiking trail is far.” He struggled with one of the words, seeming to hiccup a little on it.

“I was searching for berries and I slipped down a hill,” you answered. “Are you sure you’re okay? It looks like you got into a fight with a bear. Your shirt is all bloody.”

“I did fight a bear,” he laughed, gesturing to it. “I won.”

Your eyes grew wider. “I think you should get to a hospital. What’s your name? I can call somebody for you and we’ll get you medical attention.”

“Toby,” he said. “That’s my name. What’s yours?”

You gave him your full name and pulled out your phone. “My friends are close by,” you said. “Don’t worry, they’ll be here to help soon.”

When you raised your attention from your phone, he had disappeared and so had the hatchet from the bear’s neck.

Trenderman

Work was hard. It made your feet ache, it made your back click and crack, and it felt like the problems would never end.

Would you give up working in the fashion industry? Not a chance.

Your boss walked past where you were calming down an irate customer over the phone and dropped the keys to the front of the building in front of you. “Close up for me,” she mouthed as she left.

Nodding, you moved them to the side of the desk where they couldn’t be lost.

Once you had finished calming the customer, you glanced around to check how many people were left in the room. Three still working and one in the process of leaving. You were technically going into overtime at this point, but you didn’t mind.

There was a reason you were promoted so quickly.

“We need to set up cameras!” one of the floor managers snapped, storming into the office. She marched straight over to your desk and glowered at you. “I put this request in a week ago.”

Scrolling through the documents, you quickly opened the file. “I see but it looks like it’s been bumped due to a shipment malfunction, I’ll flag it. What’s the problem?”

“Customers or members of staff are moving items around and throwing things out without warning. We need to catch the culprits!” she snapped.

“What has been thrown out?” you asked. “I’ll add it into the information.”

The woman started listing quicker than you could type. “I’ve found crocs, toeless thigh-high boots, bellbottomed jeans, coloured faux fur jackets, luminous lipstick, w-necks, and jeggings all in vast numbers in the trash can. Every time I put them out on shelves, they disappear again.”

It took everything in you not to snort. “I’ll mark this vital.”

She stalked off and you went back to inputting the shipping requirements. You were meant to be organising what was coming in for the latest line and subtly omitting anything that wouldn’t sell well enough.

Slowly but surely, your co-workers trickled out of the office after finishing off their daily tasks. You kept going, trying to make sure you could have a longer break the next day.

Finally, when the sun had already set, you relented and started getting ready to go home.

You sung as you finished packing up for the day. Being the last one in the building (thus having to lock up) made you a little more confident as you danced around getting everything together. You slung your bag over your shoulder and happily trotted over to the door.

It made you so happy that your boss entrusted you to be the last one around. She was so hyper-protective of company secrets that you were proud of yourself for winning her over.

Your talent with people was something you attributed to dealing with painful customers.

As you passed through the store-part of the business you stopped to rearrange a mannequin. Every morning when you came in, you always noticed something had been changed with this specific one. You figured you could move something small and see if it would be a good place to set up a hidden camera.

Though you weren’t expecting it to suddenly grab your arm.

“You may be one of the few workers here with good taste, but I advise you don’t try and change my outfit,” it said. It didn’t have a mouth, but the words rang in your head, nevertheless.

You screamed and pulled away, tearing your arm from its grip. Shelves were knocked over and clothing was sent flying as you tried to escape.

The mannequin just watched you as you fumbled madly for the door.

The glass rattled in the frame from how hard you slammed it shut behind you. You sped off down the street, moving faster than you ever had before. You collapsed on your lawn by the time you reached the house, taking deep breaths.

Nothing had followed you. Everything was okay.

With shaking fingers, you dialed your boss’ number and told her you would be taking a sick day. There wasn’t a chance in hell you were going anywhere near there again.

Not to mention the mess you made… you were definitely getting fired.

[duckymcdoorknob]

Daily Speedwrite Pairings: Day 19

“Get It yourself!” -HinaNoya

This is probably the cutest one I’ve written so far.

It’s really wordy?? Like I went hella far with imagery, sorry.

It was close to coach Ukai’s birthday, so the team was having a surprise potluck for him. Shoyo and Yuu teamed up on making a dish, given they are both terrible cooks. Luckily, Asahi decided to oversee their messattempt. The Karasuno members were spending their Sunday night in the Hinata family kitchen.

“Noya-San, can you grab me the cookbook?” Hinata requested as he fiddled with his hair. His voice was a little distorted from his teeth being locked together, attempting to hold the hair tie Asahi had let him borrow.

“Sure thing! Where at?” Noya shot him a beaming smile.

“Third cabinet... to the left... of the sink!” Ta-da! He did it! Shoyo put his hair into a very tiny, yet very messy, ponytail. He never puts his hair up, but Daichi gave him a lecture about, ‘hair in the food’. So, to not invoke the wrath of his captain, he kept his tousled orange hair up, “Oh! You’ll need a stool though.”

Nishinoya found this to be the perfect opportunity to stir up(HAHA PUNS) some trouble. Yes, Yuu Nishinoya had a reputation for being a troublemaker, but he did not need Asahi to babysit him. So, to show rebellion, he was going to give his caretaker an extremely difficult time.

“Is that so? Because I’m short, right?”

“Wh-No! I-I mean!” Crap. That was the exact reason, “I- well- I need a stool to reach and-“

“Do not finish that sentence, Shoyo.” Noya barked as he inched toward the first year, “You can get it yourself!”

“W-Wait! Noya-San!” Hinata whined as he slowly backed up, hands up in defense, “I didn’t-“

The second year rolled his eyes and shot Shoyo a playful wink. This signified that he wasn’t actually pissed, but he was still going to play around.

“You did! And now? You’re gonna have to pay!” The libero rose his voice a little, attempting to gain Asahi’s attention.

“Nishinoya! Behave!” Asahi hissed from his position on the living room couch, attention shifting from his phone to the duo.

“Relax, Ace. I’m just making things... a little interesting.” The second year responded menacingly, shortly before tackling Hinata to the couch.

“GYAH! Noya-San!” Shoyo yelped, taken aback by the sudden smack to the couch, “Wh- Hey!”

The underclassmen duo wrestled with each other, causing both to giggle furiously.

“Take it back!” Nishinoya cried as a grin plastered his face.

“Never! You- you’re-“ Hinata squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation, “You’re short! Just like me!”

“That’s it!” The libero took advantage of the pinned boy beneath him and snaked his hands under the tangerine boy’s shirt, gently skittering his fingers on the middle blocker’s stomach.

“WAAAH!! Nohohohoya-Sahahahan! Nohohoho!”

“Noya-San! Yes!” The second year replied in a mocking tone, pinching around the trapped boy’s belly button.

“HEHEHEY! NOHOHOHO!” Shoyo whined as he tried to push his upperclassman’s hands away. Instead, distracted from laughing, he could only grip the hand that was destroying an unknown sweet spot.

“Aww! You must want me to stay here!” Nishinoya cooed as he dipped his finger into the small hollow.

Poor Hinata was not expecting it to tickle that badly, “NAHAHAHA! WAHAHAHAHIHIHIT!”

“Sorry! Us short people wait for no one!”

“Geez, Noya. You sure are a tease.” Asahi stated calmly, focusing on the scene unfolding as he recorded it.

“Oh? A crowd? Well gee, I guess we should put on a show, eh Shoyo?”

The first year was too busy losing himself in uncontrollable laughter. Noya-San was so mean!

Speaking of mean...

“Hey, Shoyo, I think I know what we can make!” The libero beamed, “Raspberry torte!” And with that, he blew multiple raspberries into Hinata’s side, all while continuing to move the antagonizing finger in his belly button.

“NOHOHONONONO! NOHOHOHOT RAHAHAHSPBEHEHEHERRIHIHIHIES!”

“Oh yes, Rasberries!”

Raspberry after raspberry, wiggle after wiggle of Noya’s finger, poor Shoyo thought he would die. The icing on the cake? Nishinoya sneaking a hand up to prod at Hinata’s lower ribcage.

“NOHOHOHO MOHOHOHORE!” Hinata screamed as his worst spot was being targeted, “AHAHASAHAHAIHIHIHI! MAHAHAHAKE- STAHAHAHAP! QUHIHIHIHIT IHIHIHIT!”

“Okay. Okay. You’ve had your fun.” Asahi hoisted Nishinoya off of poor Shoyo, leaving the ginger to gasp for air.

“Awwww. But-“

“No buts. He said to stop, we have to respect that.” Asahi’s tone was firm, almost paternal.

“No- Ace you don’t understand! He’s g- NOHOHOHOHO!”

Hinata has regained his stamina almost instantly, and latched onto Nishinoya’s torso, massaging his thumbs into the back of his ribs.

“Not so fun! Is it?” Hinata pondered with an evil grin.

“SHOHOHOHOHYOHOHOHO! THEHEHE TIHIHIHIHIME!”

The first year cocked his head like a lost puppy. What did he mean by time? Oh! The time! It was only a few hours from the potluck! He instantly unlatched and scrambled to the kitchen.

“One word about me getting taken down like that to the team? You’re next, Asahi.” There was pure venom in Nishinoya’s tone. Though, it was all in good fun.

“Noya-San! Let’s make this!” Hinata had stars in his eyes as he turned the cookbook around, revealing the recipe he chose.

“Yeah! Cool!” the libero chimed in response, bounding up to the kitchen himself, “Says we’ll need... strawberries, almonds, aaaand açaí?”

“Yeah?” Asahi shortly after appeared in the kitchen.

The two underclassmen chuckled furiously at the Ace’s sudden reply.

“Noooo! Not Asahi, Açaí!” Hinata said as he pointed to the word in the cookbook.

“You’re funny, Ace.” Noya cooed, “Since you’re up here though, want to help cut some stuff up?”

The third year sighed and picked up a large knife, a cutting board and a bowlful of strawberries. “The things I do for you morons.”

I remembered my taglist this time: @littlebbyleesfw @cupcake-spice13

——————✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞——————

[its-me-im-coraline]

Regrets // Victoria De Angelis

words // 1557

warnings // angst, mentions of abusive relationships (not details)

pairing // Victoria De Angelis x GN!Reader, Ethan Torchio x Platonic!Reader

author's note // taglist here. please only let me know if you want to be tagged on that google form so i know what to tag you on, thank you

I KNOW I MADE HER LOOK LIKE AN ASSHOLE BUT MY ANGSTY ASS NEEDED SOMETHING LIKE THIS TO BE ABLE TO WRITE THIS FIC SOOO... I LOVE VICTORIA, I DON'T THINK SHE'S AN ASSHOLE AND THE WHOLE I BULLY YOU MEANS I HAVE A CRUSH ON YOU TROPE IS STUPID IN EVERY OTHER OCCASION BUT IN FANFICTION ITS FINE

also i changed the original tittle because i didnt like it that much

request // yes

summary // Reader is Ethan's best friend and because of that they are around the band a lot. Maybe a hint of jealously, a toxic partner and a visit at the hospital will be enough to change their relationship with Victoria from hate to love. Or maybe the love was there all along.

The first time the two met each other was right after the band finally united. Y/N’s had been Ethan’s best friend for years now, making the fateful meeting inevitable - as well as the obscure amount of time they would have to spend around each other. If anything, the drummer was attached to the hip with his best friend, tagging them along to every show, many rehearsals (there was even a suggestion to come with him on Måneskin’s European tour - it would be a nightmare if they did).

Victoria did not take long to adopt a defensive mode against them, one that not even she could decipher. Maybe it was the way they were just always there, like leech attached to her bandmate, or maybe it was that annoying way they dressed, all out there and attracting her attention, or maybe it was that stupid girlfriend of theirs that just had to make it known they were a couple. She really did get on Victoria’s nerves a awful lot. She was nice, not going to lie, just maybe a little too nice - ickly nice, she’d say. She wasn’t sure why but that girl simply made Victoria’s gut drop every time.

For years, as that relationship lasted, Victoria and Y/N would butt heads, always at each other’s throat with something to say and complain about. What are they doing here again, the bassist would ask over and over again. Just here to piss you off, Y/N would say, walking to Ethan. Other times it’d be the opposite. It just always was… a mess.

Everyone could see the situation the two found themselves into but no one could do anything. No, not until they opened their own damn eyes.

The dislike between the two only grew stronger and stronger as time passed by, with their insults getting worse. Truth be told, no one expected it to get that bad, and now they just hoped to stop.

For a while, Y/N was facing some drama in the relationship, some that could end up pretty bad. Not few were the nights Ethan would get a phone call in the middle of rehearsal, sobbing heard even beyond his phone. Please, please come get me Ethan. I don’t think …. The rest was inaudible for Victoria, not that I care, she would remind herself, moving on with her work.

On occasion she’d joke about it to Y/N. What? Trouble in paradise, cucciolo? Oh well. Deep down she knew she should not say that but she could not control herself. Y/N was pretty put together some of those times, others they’d just snap with no regard to anything. Just shut your fucking mouth, they said once adding a few profanities to explain their anger.

After the fourth time it happened the blonde had gotten genuinely angry. “Ok, enough. Close your phone, Ethan,” she spat out, almost snatching it off his hand. “They can wait.”

“But-”

“No! They have cut short three out of our four rehearsals this week! This is the fifth rehearsal, Ethan, their fourth time! They’re a big kid now, they should not need you all the time.”

In time she would regret those words but in that moment they seemed appropriate. She had grown exasperated at their constant interruptions. Well, most of the time they were not really disturbing - they’d call on a break or just cuddle with Ethan on a break, at a time they had for the solemn reason of relaxing - but Victoria would not admit that. Not to herself and not to anyone.

“Ok.” Ethan whispered the words, silencing his phone with a heavy heart. He had a bad feeling, that he knew for sure, but he did not feel like fighting with the blond bassist.

The hours they worked passed by quickly, feeling more like quick moving water, their session was simply flowing. It was now quiet, maybe around three in the morning. 2.58 AM read the clock on the table. Ethan was sure his best friend was sleeping by now. He’d shoot them a text and then go to sleep as well - lord knows he needed it. Well, not everything always goes as planned.

Victoria was by him when it happened.

His phone started to ring while he was about to walk to his room. Y/N. If he was not concerned earlier that night there was no way he was not now. It was not common for them to call at hours like this, if anything they were usually asleep by eleven, maybe even twelve.

“Pronto. Che? A- cazzo, sì, sì. Sto venendo ora.” showing off my italian lol

“Ethan? What happened?” She was not sure of her feelings in that instant. Why was she even asking him? She did not care about them, right? But no, no, it was not worry. It was fear of guilt. And worry, but that she was not aware of.

“Y/N is at the hospital,” he breathed out, “they- uhm… Their ex hurt them - thank god their neighbor was there and heard what happened. Oh my- if-if-if he was not there Y/N-”

Victoria could not stand seeing her friend like that. She believes that she’s never once seen Ethan this emotional - not negatively emotional, that is. He always keeps his composure so well but this time it just was not possible. The blonde just stood there now, holding Ethan in her arms, whispering comforting things to him, hoping that he’d calm down a bit.

“I-I should’ve answered the phone Vic… It- I could have prevented this. Oh god, it’s my-”

“Ethan no! If it’s anyone’s fault here, it’s mine. I should not have snapped like I did.”

“I- yeah. Yeah, you know what, yeah, it is your fault.” He was sad, he was anxious, he was angry… A whirlwind of emotions really, and Victoria’s statement made him target it to her. “It is your fault Vic, with that-that stupid, stupid, conflict you two have. I’m leaving.”

“Where are yo-”

“To the hospital! Where the fuck else?” Ethan’s voice was rising by the second, as his blood started boiling in his veins. He knew he could not drive there, but he was not about to say it.

“I’ll drive you-”

“No. I can do it on my own.”

“Please. It’s the least I can do.” Victoria’s eyes were cast to the floor, unsure of what else to do. She knew that things were taken too far this time, the least she could do was drive her friend to the hospital.

The drive there was quiet. Neither knew what to say. Victoria was feeling guilty, afraid, and even worried about Y/N’s well-being, regardless of whether she could she tried to focus on the road. More injured people would not be helpful. Ethan on the other hand was fuming. He was angry out of his head; at his blonde friend, at himself and most of all that bitch, Y/N’s ex. She was the one to cause all of this, all of it, even problems he was not aware she was the cause of.

As they arrived there there was even more trouble on their way. He’s not family, he’s not a spouse, neither is Victoria. It was always like that. They would not let them pass if they were not either of those things but, god bless that man, the nurse that called him showed up, recognizing the voice and assuring the nurse, on the front, that he was indeed the only person on their emergency contacts, they had to pass. With a lot of complaining they were finally let to pass.

When they walked in the room Y/N was laying on the bed asleep and at first both their minds went to the worst case scenario. “I have given them some painkillers for now. They’ll be ok but some injuries cause severe pain -” he was walking outside along with Ethan.

Victoria was now left alone in the room with Y/N, although it felt as if she was looking at a photo of them rather than the real life Y/N. “I’m sorry,” was all she could say, the only thing that felt right to do at that moment. “It’s my fault -oh my it is! Ethan, he-he wanted to respond to the call by I-I got so angry!” She cried out, now grasping Y/N’s hand. “I can only hope he can forgive me. Hell, I hope you forgive me. It’s my fault you’re-”

“It’s not, Victoria.”

“You are awake?”

“It’s not your fault. I was already here when I called the first time. Neither of you could have changed a thing.” They were so calm - maybe it was the painkillers, she thought. “Thank you. For the apology I mean.”

“Yeah. I, uh, I’m sorry for everything Y/N. I-”

“Hey, stop! It’s ok. What’s by is by,” they laughed, never missing the opportunity to joke. (you know, bi - by… terrible pun)

“I, uh,” she paused, thinking of what to say next. She remembered a small chocolate bar in her pocket. She was about to eat it when the call happened. “I don’t know if you’re supposed to eat chocolate but I know you like it.”

“Oh my, it’s my favorite,” they gushed, prompting Vic to come closer.

“Come, sit, sit! We can share it.”

“Yeah, I guess we can.”

tag list: @bieberhoodforever @tabi-toast @ginny-lily @moriro-da-regina @the-killer-queenie @makapaka11 @teenyweenynightghost @superchrystaldrug

[jetaime-jespere]

I Was Enchanted To Meet You

This is a long time in the works, and a gift to my dear friend @cmhotchniss-blog, who sent me her idea of how Aaron and Emily met. Most of the ideas are hers, and I am forever grateful she let me connect some of the dots. 💓

"I’d like to think this is how we were supposed to meet. For a brief moment in time, that’s all. To steer one another in the right direction, if you will.”

One night for Aaron and Emily has a lasting impact on them both, twenty-four years later.

A mess of metal is what’s left behind on a dusky stretch of Route 66. Shattered glass sparkles like diamonds along the wet asphalt in the darkening sky as night meets the last moments of the day. Smoke curls and hisses around the mangled frame of the SUV, the stillness of the air a juxtaposition to the chaos that wraps around them - a slew of first responders, a few ominous rumbles of thunder, the mounting traffic on the other side of the highway. It’s a cacophony of sounds and sirens, shrill and relentless, that bring them all back to the reality that it can’t get much worse than this.

Read the rest below or on ao3!

There’s shouting - so much shouting - the frantic and panicked voices from the normally imperturbable team as one of their own is pulled from the passenger seat, limp and unresponsive. It only took seconds for things to go horribly wrong. Accidents were never supposed to happen, and yet here they were, helplessly surrounding a team of paramedics who were just a little too quiet in their intense focus, their faces stretched a little too thin, a little too grey, as they bent over Emily.

Her speech is slurred; her eyes flutter and blink weakly as they fight to keep her conscious and alert, rattling off blood pressure numbers with thinly veiled concern. They abruptly push JJ to the side, curtly demanding the need for more space to work, bark directions to the hospital, and start preparing to move her into the ambulance.

On the other side, a hand with a set of bitten down nails grapples for purchase at Dave’s shirt, fingers wrapping around the folds of expensive fabric to pull him closer in one last moment of semi lucidity. With a fading grasp Emily drags him down close enough to whisper something inaudible in his ear, words meant for only him to hear. The older man frowns, eyebrows furrowing with confusion as she falls unconscious, the last lick of light disappearing behind the trees.

____

“Dad, are you sleeping?”

Aaron’s eyes snap open a little too quickly, the bowl of popcorn nearly spilling into his lap when he jumps to attention. The voice, a familiar one, is insistent, as if it’s not the first time he’s said his name in the last few minutes. “No,” he says quickly and he’s not entirely sure who he’s reassuring. “No. I was just -”

“Let me guess,” Jack scoffs, taking a large handful from his own, much larger bowl of popcorn in his lap. “Just nodded off.”

“I’m paying attention,” Aaron attempts weakly as Jack laughs under his breath and shakes his head.

“I’ve heard that before.” His son reaches for the remote to rewind the last ten minutes of the scene he’d missed, still laughing. “This is what … the third week in a row?”  While he’s right, Jack doesn’t seem bothered. The years away have made him wise beyond his years, with a patience not often possessed by hormonal teenage boys who spend most of their time with a screen in their face. Aaron often thinks his son inherited the best of Haley - her patience, for starters. He resembles her too, and every now and then, looking at Jack is like looking into a window of the past. A past that could have been a fantasy, for now it seems like so far gone.

“Something like that,” Aaron mumbles. It’s true. In the four months they’ve lived in the quaint Philadelphia suburbs of Chester County, an idyllic place without the Main Line housing prices, adjustment has taken on a new meaning once again. Gone are the fake identities, the constant checking and double checking of doors and windows, the frequent looks over their shoulders, the unsettling notion that it might not end - that this might, unfairly, be their reality. He knows they’d go to the end of the earth to find Scratch - they’d done it before to find Foyet, then Doyle. They fought monsters before, but somehow, this was different.

There had been a finality in his decision to take Jack and go into Witsec. His final act to name Emily as Unit Chief was an easy one, and while it didn’t lessen the blow of the circumstances in which he and Jack left, in a flurry of panic, reminiscent of one his son experienced once before, it gave him a semblance of peace he wasn’t expecting. A little bit of reprieve, the ability to sever ties that may never be rebuilt, to no fault of their own. The cruel and unusual situation was one that they always risked with the nature of their work, one that was always a distant possibility.

In the quiet moments, he thinks of her. The what ifs and the whys. Everything between them that was said, and what never was. What he’s never told anyone is just how long he’s thought of her in one way or another, the one night they shared together, years ago, tucked neatly away in his mind to save for nights when he wondered just how things got to be this way.

“Come on, Dad,” Jack laughs. “At least try to make it through this movie. You said you wanted to see this one.”

With a hint of guilt as his obvious disinterest, Aaron sits up a bit straighter on the couch, grips the popcorn bowl in his hands, locking his eyes on the television. The plot of the movie is already lost on him, despite it being a topic of conversation for the last several days. “Just play the movie, Jack.” He stifles a yawn into his fist and valiantly attempts to focus his attention on the screen.

Aaron is dozing when he’s interrupted again; this time by his phone vibrating on the table. He doesn’t miss Jack’s eyes flickering over to the phone. “It’s just like old times,” he sighs. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

The name on the screen is the very last he expects to see at such an hour in the middle of the week. Aaron frowns, the phone cradled in his hands as the phone vibrates insistently. It’s the familiar push and pull of guilt he feels when his eyes shift between his son and the phone again, an unexpected window into a life he long left behind. The phone keeps ringing, immediately following the first unanswered call. Not a good sign, he thinks.

“Dad?”

“I need to take this, Jack,” Aaron says quickly. It’s late enough that this is anything but a casual phone call. The blanket is tossed aside and the popcorn already forgotten. He barely hears Jack’s half-hearted protest as the phone crackles static and then connects. The voice on the other end speaks first, his tone clouded with thinly veiled fear.

“Aaron.”

“Dave.” His tone is equally clipped, even and steady even as the phone is held tightly in his hand, waiting for whatever news is about to come.

“Aaron, you need to get to Prince William Medical Center as soon as you can.” It’s the urgency in Dave’s voice that unnerves him; it sets off every warning bell in his head. His normally unflappable, at times annoyingly rational friend sounds harried and exhausted, as if it’s already been the longest of nights, as if making this very phone call was a last resort. “It’s Emily.”

Emily .

The words reverberate through his head, the implications tear through his chest like a series of spears. He knew it wasn’t good, but he didn’t expect this. “What happened?” But years of experience and unbridled heartache have steeled his nerves, tested his resolve time and time again. He should be used to this by now - bad news that haunts those he loves. But the fear is like a vice, a cold stab that wraps itself around his mind and back again.

“There was an accident.” Dave begins. It’s been a few years since he’s seen him, but through the phone Aaron can see the lines on his forehead that have certainly deepened by now, perhaps a few have been added over time as the years add up.

“Accident? What kind of accident?”

He barely listens as Dave recounts the last few hours in excruciating detail. They were on a case - local - Reston - on their way back to Quantico. A poorly timed summer storm made visibility terrible, rendering driving nearly impossible. They were sideswept by another SUV, the impact sending them careening into the median on 66 just outside of Woodbridge. It sounds like anyone’s worst nightmare - airbags deployed, the windshield shattered upon impact, the entire hood a mangled mess of metal as the car careened to a stop, the threatening hiss of the engine.

But the totaled car was the very least of their problems.

“She’s in critical condition, Aaron,” Dave says carefully, as if it’s only part of the truth, as if somehow it’s even graver than this. “She’s unconscious.” It doesn’t sound good - her head hit the window on impact, the rest of Dave’s news confirms his worst fears - a likely head injury, the extent of which they don’t know.

It doesn’t make sense. It seems like some kind of sick, ill joke - a nightmare he’ll wake up from, only to find Jack having devoured both bowls of popcorn and the credits of the movie he never actually watched rolling. “What aren’t you telling me Dave?”

“I think you’d want to be here, Aaron. It … it could go either way at this point.” Dave’s voice is so heavy, something Aaron isn’t used to. His friend was typically the voice of reason, the one he went to for assurance when things seemed to be spiraling out of control - something he did many times over. And now the tables were turned to their side, a cruel twist of fate. It takes no convincing; he’s already reaching for his jacket on the hook by the door, grappling for an umbrella shoved unceremoniously in a closet somewhere closeby.

“I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

…

“Mendoza is on his way.,” JJ says quietly as she rounds the corner with two cups of coffee in her hands. “ He just called me.”

“That might complicate things.” Dave wrings his hands and paces the tiny hallway. “Who told him?” He asks curiously. It hadn’t been long since Emily had shown up in his office one night, shoulders heavy as she relayed the news of their breakup. Dave is no stranger to the failures of love - having been thrice divorced himself. Sometimes timing was to blame, other times it was priorities. In their case it was commitment, or lack thereof, things fizzling out and hasty goodbyes, half-hearted assurances of keeping in touch, that one will call the other. Yet Dave isn’t exactly surprised to hear the news. Despite their challenges, Mendoza had been all but enamored with Emily, in awe of her at times. He wasn’t a stupid man; he wasn’t surprised when she didn’t follow him to Colorado. There was always something else that stood in her way. He just never knew exactly what.

“Word travels fast.”

“Aaron is on his way.” After a long pause, Dave scrapes a hand across his face, exhaustion bleeding through the cracks of age. “I just called him.”

JJ only nods and stares into Emily’s room with a pensive expression. “What do we tell them?”

“We tell them what we know. Hope for the best. That's all we can do.”

...

The storm takes the humidity with it, a soft chilly breeze spreading through the darkness. Aaron hurries through the hospital doors, charging past the triage nurse towards the elevators. He’s only vaguely aware of the other man that wedges himself past the doors just in the nick of time. He looks just as distracted as Aaron feels, eyes distant -worlds away - and lost in his own thoughts as he offers a quick smile, fists shoved in jacket pockets.

“What floor?” Aaron offers with a tight smile.

“The ICU.”

He nods and pushes just one button, indicating that they’re in fact going to the same place.

“I’m sorry.” The other man nods his head in solidarity, noticing the single illuminated circle on the panel, shuffles his feet, checks his watch and hangs his head. The phone in his pocket buzzes; he checks it with a resigned sigh. Aaron feels a touch of sympathy for him, wonders just what brings him there.

Except he doesn’t have to wonder much longer, because not only is Dave waiting when the doors open, but he clearly knows whoever Aaron just shared the elevator with. And judging by the way Dave’s eyebrows lift just enough at the sight of them both, practically side by side, something tells him there’s more to the story than just a simple coincidence.

“I see you’ve met?” Dave cocks his head to the side, scrubs his chin with his hand thoughtfully. “I wish it wasn’t under these circumstances.”

“What the hell happened?” The man beside Aaron demands, a little more forcefully this time.

“So you haven’t met.”

“What the hell is going on, Dave?” Aaron snaps first, his patience starting to wane. The last three hours of travel have already started to catch up with him. It’s been years since he’s had to channel his feelings into something more stoic and taciturn. It doesn’t return as easily this time. He tells himself it’s because of age and time, yet the nagging voice in his head says it’s something else entirely.

“Andrew Mendoza, meet Aaron Hotchner. The former chief of the BAU. Hotch, this is Andrew Mendoza. Mendoza was the Special Agent in Charge of DC’s Field Office. He consulted with the BAU on a few local cases about a year ago.”

“Was?” Aaron questions, quickly putting together what Dave doesn’t tell him about Andrew Mendoza. There’s only one reason why he’d be there - a reason he didn’t anticipate. He has to swallow the bitter pang of regret that rises in his throat. It shouldn’t exist at all, but a familiar feeling that has lingered just within his reach whenever he thought of Emily. The chances they never took, the timing that seemed to elude them for one reason or another. Time. It had never been on their side.

“The Denver Field Office offered me a promotion last month. My daughter and I are moving out to Colorado in a few weeks.”

“Congratulations,” Aaron says stiffly as he offers his hand. It’s obvious why he’s here - the same reason Aaron is. “I’ve heard good things about Denver.” There’s something about the news that satisfies him.

“I’m sorry to meet you under these circumstances.” Mendoza glances at Aaron, then Dave, then back at Aaron again. “But what the hell happened tonight?”

“JJ didn’t tell you?”

“Just that there was an accident.”

Dave presses his mouth into a thin line, relaying the story with such tact that Aaron knows it’s an abridged version, a slightly less terrible rendition of what happened back on the highway. “We were right outside of Woodbridge. On our way back from a case in Reston. Visibility was awful. It happened so fast. Emily must have hit her head on impact. She lost consciousness shortly after the ambulance arrived. They’re considering surgery to relieve the pressure in her brain.”

Dave pauses, letting the news sink in, taking a deep breath of his own to compose his frayed nerves. “There’s a chance of brain damage but they won’t know more until after she regains consciousness.” His gaze shifts between them both, gauging their reactions.

“When will that be?”

“There’s no easy way to tell. Could be hours after the surgery. Or days. She’s not breathing on her own. It’s going to be a while before we know anything.” He repeats the doctors’ words as calmly as he can. Dave’s typically unflappable demeanor is strained; the weariness laces through his voice.

“How did this happen?” It’s Mendoza who speaks up this time, clearly distraught and searching for words of his own. He almost looks embarrassed by his uncharacteristic show of emotion.

“It was an accident,” Dave repeats as calmly as he can, as if he’s practiced this speech in his head before giving it. “No one is to blame.”

The air seems to thicken around them, the reality setting in that while it’s already been a long night, it’s only just beginning.

“We’re here because of Emily. It’s a waiting game now, as long as it might be. May as well make yourselves comfortable. There’s a waiting room just down the hallway and a cafeteria on the sixth floor, if you want some coffee. It might eat a hole in your stomach, but it’s something.”

The room around him starts to spin. Aaron can’t remember the last conversation they had - something hasty by phone, he suspects, in the days of time differences and small talk. Never awkward, but something always lingering beneath the surface. Their conversations were all about what wasn’t said - subtext, layers of awareness only they possessed.

“One other thing,” Dave adds, as if on afterthought, a fleeting thought he nearly forgot, nothing more than a passing thought. “Before she lost consciousness, she was rambling incessantly about apple pie.” Dave adds, as if on afterthought, eyes narrowing in confusion. “The best apple pie in DC. Any idea what that could be about?”

Aaron stiffens, his jaw flexing at Dave’s seemingly innocuous mention in the midst of everything else. It’s been years since he’s last seen her and another fifteen since that night, one he’s never actually spoken of out loud. It could have been a lifetime ago, a distant memory. It feels so foreign at this point he could have dreamed it. Surely he misheard - there’s no way she’d be thinking of that. He pinches the bridge of his nose, stifles a yawn into his fist. It’s about to be a very long night. “Where is she? Is she in surgery yet?”

“Not yet. She’s just down the hall.” In the distance a monitor beeps then an alarm starts to go off, punctuated by the efficient scramble of nurses. It reminds him just how much he hates hospitals, and Aaron breathes a heavy sigh of relief when they don’t go into Emily’s room.

“You can see her, you know.” Dave offers gently, sensing the growing tension. “One visitor at a time.”

It’s somehow decided, without officially being decided out loud, that Aaron will go in first. Mendoza quietly mentions something about needing to call his daughter. Not for the first time this evening, Aaron is actually grateful Jack can hold his own at home for a little while, that they’re long past those years of constant check-ins. A simple text will do in a few hours’ time. And he steels his nerves with a few deep breaths before slipping into the room, the silence punctuated by the staccato beeping of monitors and a ventilator.

She’s like a ghost, translucent almost - amidst the machines and wires. He remembers a time, years ago, when the roles were reversed. Aaron wonders if she felt the same clench of fear in her gut, the awful feeling of helplessness that came along with being at someone’s bedside in a hospital. He wonders if she felt the same desperation clinging to every nerve in her body that things would be okay.

“Hey,” he says, sinking into the hard plastic chair at the side of the bed. “It’s been awhile.” Deep down he knows she won’t - can’t - respond. But there was a moment of hope - a tiny one - flimsy and built on nothing - that maybe she would move or something to indicate she heard him. There isn’t one.

Aaron swallows the rising lump in this throat, thick and pressing right down into his lungs. “I really need you to wake up, Emily.”

...

“When’s the big move?” Dave presses Mendoza gently, asking all the questions Emily never gave answers to. He folds his arms across his chest, unable to tear his gaze from the scene before him. From his place behind the window, he watches Aaron lower himself onto a chair on shaky legs, taking a few steadying breaths as he settles beside her. He rests a weary head on his fist.

“Two weeks. Keely wanted to finish her soccer season.” Mendoza crosses his arms over his chest as his eyes follow Dave’s.

Dave nods without really comprehending the words. “You’ll have to let us know when you’re both settled out there.”

“Yeah.”

Dave breaks an awkward silence. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out between you two.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t.” By now, Mendoza’s full attention is on the scene before them both, face solemn and stiff. “What’s the story between them?” His eyes narrow ever so slightly, shades of suspicion cloud his features and his shoulders tense. Years of profiling make Dave keenly aware of these subtle changes in his behavior. He’s questioning it .

Dave shrugs. “Friends? Colleagues?” By now, Aaron is brushing Emily’s arm with his thumb, and if he isn’t mistaken, swears he sees his lips moving too. “Anything else and your guess is as good as mine.”

It seems to smooth things over for a few moments, even as something else is planted in his mind. Something he never considered at all.

…

“Have you been to Boathouse Row yet?”

It’s an attempt to make small talk as they sit down; it doesn’t get past Aaron, who stays silent, completely ignoring the question.

“So what is it you’re not telling me?” Dave passes a flimsy styrofoam cup over the small table.

“Now might not be the best time, Dave,” Aaron retorts, rolling a tiny cup of creamer in his fingers.

“We’ve got nothing but time, Aaron. Surgeon says things could take hours. She might even be conscious immediately after. And you’re not driving back to Philly anytime soon.”

He has a point . “She was talking about when we first met.” He sighs heavily as he spins the cup around in his hands. “It was a long time ago.”

“At the BAU?” Dave knits his eyebrows in confusion.

Aaron rubs his eyes tiredly. By now any movement feels like effort, the space behind his eyes starting to throb with an oncoming headache and exhaustion. “Before that.”

“You mean you knew - “ Dave stops, his coffee ignored and interest piqued. “You two knew each other before?”

“We met years ago. Would be at least twenty now.” He’s too tired to do the math of exactly how long it’s been. “We met when I was working for her mother one summer in DC.”

“I certainly had no idea.”

“No one did. It never really came up.”

“By choice or on purpose?” Dave quips, his eyes just a touch brighter than they were moments before. He chuckles when Aaron just stares right back, the hint of a smile hidden in his eyes. “So what’s the story?”

His expression is wistful, as if he were dusting off a long held memory. “It was kind of an accident.”

__

Twenty-Four Years Ago

DC

Not for the first time that evening, Aaron checks his watch discreetly and sighs into his fist. It’s only eight-thirty; who knows how long this thing will last. It wasn’t that he agreed to this. It’s practically a rite of passage when working for an Ambassador, or so he’s been told -working one of the many extravagant parties and benefit dinners that were practically part of her job description. The ballroom is full of DC’s political elite - congressmen and senators, the Secretary of State and the Attorney General. Rumor had it the Vice President would be making an appearance. For that reason alone, security was heightened, every egress monitored, yet he’s never felt more invisible in a room full of people.

Aaron spots her accidentally, but something tells him she’s not trying to blend in. The tall figure on the opposite side of the room is entirely too young to be one of them , yet she mingles easily with a champagne flute between her fingers. She’s wearing an elegant black dress with a high neck and open back. It shows off delicate shoulder blades that jut out like wings when she moves. He isn’t the only one staring.

She’s the Ambassador’s daughter - Emily . Aaron has only heard of her from the others, her name being uttered in exasperation when one of the agents finds her breaking protocol yet again - sneaking out and in at all hours of the night, slipping an endless parade of friends past the entrance logs without proper verification. He’s never spoken a word to her; he knows almost nothing about her except that she’s a student at Yale, supposedly speaks multiple languages, and has a knack for causing trouble.

They haven’t spoken a word to each other, but her eyes meet his across the square in the middle of the room that is supposedly a dance floor. His mouth goes dry and he immediately looks away when Emily excuses herself from whatever conversation she’s immersed in, only to look back seconds later to find her sauntering directly towards him , effortlessly maneuvering through the crowd.

Aaron nods a polite hello, attempting to keep his expression neutral when she’s finally closed the gap between them both.

“You know,” Emily says with amusement, eyes flicking over him. “You could at least try not to look so miserable.”

“Who said anything about being miserable?”

“It’s practically part of the job requirements if you work for my mother. Besides, you’ve been wearing the same expression since this thing started.” When she catches his look of sheer bewilderment and mild annoyance, she laughs softly. “Trust me. I’ve been to enough of these things to know what I’m looking for.”

“Are you spying on me?” He glances around, wondering just where the Ambassador even is amidst a sea of black suits. He should be keeping a close eye, after all. He strains his neck a little, scanning the crowd purposefully until he sees the woman that strongly resembles the miniature version of her in front of him.

“No. I’m just observant.” Without missing a beat, Emily waves to someone - a Congressman Aaron immediately recognizes from the news - something about a scandal involving a rather young intern under a desk - but he hadn’t been paying too much attention to remember all the details. “He’s such a scumbag,” she adds quietly without any elaboration.

He senses her reticence immediately; he wonders just how she knows all of this, if he should push, if at all “Isn’t that part of their job description to a degree?”

“Some of them,” Emily mutters. “But he’s one of the worst.”

“So I’ve heard,” Aaron murmurs, tearing his eyes away from the crowd to get a better look at her. Up close she’s even more stunning, with sharp cheekbones and a perfectly symmetrical face, her smile wide and eyes like dark orbs. “I’m sorry, have we met before?”

“I’ve seen you around. You’re the new guy.”

“New-ish. I started in March.” It comes out a bit more dejectedly than it should, but it’s hard to hide the disdain he feels for it all. Things have been far from easy over the last few months. It’s a mindless shuffle of one foot in front of the other, days that blend together similar to the ones before, with the slightest hope that a few more weeks of patience might wield a change.

“New to me.” She’s only been home for the summer a few weeks at most, so he can count on one hand the number of times he’s actually seen her. “So what’s your story?”

“My story?”

“You stick out like a sore thumb.” She cracks a grin at her own remark. “You’re too tense.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Agent …”

“Hotchner,” he fills in quickly.

“Agent Hotchner, you certainly wouldn’t be the first security detail to use this as a stepping stone to a different career. You’re all just biding time until something better comes along.” She’s so matter of fact, so assured, it’s as if she’s had this very conversation with every other agent in the room at one point or another. “It’s usually the quiet ones. They have less to prove.”

“Are we that transparent?”

“Some of you. And I can’t say I blame you. This place surely isn’t a means to an end.”

“What does your mother think of your beliefs?”

“My mother knows exactly what I think of her career and everything that goes along with it. It’s what’s gotten us to this point, actually.”

“And what point might that be?” He’s only heard of some of the epic arguments between the two of them, the harshness of their voices reverberating around the Ambassador’s office or some ornately decorated living room. The bitter clashes of two strong wills, hidden behind the fact that just maybe they were more similar than different.

“A story for a different time,” Emily says smoothly. “Can’t exactly talk about it here.”

“You’re full of stories, aren’t you?” Aaron deduces but she isn’t even paying attention anymore as she scans the crowd. He can see the wheels start to turn in her head, the flicker of an idea materializing somewhere. She turns back, this time a grin stuck to her lips. “What?” He asks reluctantly.

“Let’s get out of here.” Emily bats her thickly lashed, heavily lined eyes. “This thing is going nowhere fast. Besides, you look like you could use a break. “How long have you been on?”

“And go where?”

“Anywhere,” she says casually with a wink as she plucks a champagne flute from a nearby tray, downing it quickly. “I probably shouldn’t drive, but you can.” It’s accompanied with a flippant toss of hair over her shoulder, an expectant purse of her lips.

It’s certainly not the smartest idea or the most prudent, but something tells him Emily could care less about prudence and image. “I could be suspended for unauthorized use of a government-issued vehicle.” Not to mention, having his boss’s daughter in said government vehicle with him, or completely leaving his assignment altogether. He remembers skimming over the terms of employment months ago, specifically the section about fraternization with members of the Ambassador’s Family.

“Who said anything about one of theirs?” She looks almost bored now, tapping her fingers against the empty flute. “That’s no fun anyway. They have trackers on them. For security purposes.” She forms air quotes with her fingers. “We wouldn’t get far.”

He’s about to ask her how she even possesses that knowledge when he feels her hand on his waist, dipping into the creases of his jacket like a lover would. It doesn’t phase her, and while normally his reflexes would spring into quick action, he’s glued into place.

“You have a car don’t you?” Emily unabashedly pats his pocket, feeling for keys.

He opens his mouth to object, but she’s too fast. She grins with satisfied smirk, a triumphant click of her tongue as he stiffens awkwardly when they jingle against her hand. “You aren’t a great liar, Agent Hotchner.”

“Aaron,” he says somewhat stiffly, resignedly. He’s doing his damn best to keep his eyes centered on the ballroom but it’s getting harder and harder to concentrate on the task at hand. The scent of perfume - something undoubtedly expensive - lingers and it makes him dizzy even if he hasn’t had a sip to drink. “And I didn’t lie.”

“Aaron.” His name rolls off her tongue thoughtfully. “Aaron,” she repeats, as if it’s the first time she’s ever heard it. “I never understood why there were two A’s. What do you do with the second one?”

His head spins to keep up with her, how her mind somehow bounces from one thought to the next with seemingly little direction. “Never gave it much thought myself, actually.” From the corner of his eye he catches one of the other agents giving him a quizzical, perhaps slightly jealous, eye roll. It’s a bad idea to entertain, but one he can’t ignore. Emily is staring at him, eyes sparkling, with the slightest touch of longing. Longing for what he isn’t sure, but whatever it is, it wouldn’t be found in the middle of the opulent ballroom.“What do you have in mind?”

“I’ve been told of a place not too far from here,” she begins slowly, a smile on her face at his gradual acquiesce. “A diner that supposedly has the best apple pie in DC.”

“Apple pie?” Just how much has she had to drink?

“I’m starving ,” she offers with a hand pressed to her flat stomach. Aaron’s eyes follow, lingering up and down on her narrow frame.

“They’re about to serve dinner,” He says lamely, shaking his head to ensure he heard her correctly. Waiters have started to circle the room with large serving trays balanced precariously above their heads, passing around the plates that he guesses must cost a few hundred dollars a head, maybe more. The crowds have thinned as more guests take their seats.

Emily shrugs with disinterest. “Once you’ve been to one of these things you’ve been to them all. Besides, this is when things start to get really insufferable.”

“Is that so?”

“Someone will start talking,” Emily drawls sardonically, surveying the crowd starting to take their seats at previously assigned tables - tables he could probably rattle off by name if asked. “Make some big speech promoting their campaign trying to get reelected or whatever. Then they all will. They love hearing themselves talk.”

“Part of the job, I guess.” He stares, unsure of what to say next. Her attitude towards politics is the complete opposite of that of her mother. His interactions with his boss have been somewhat limited; he doubts if she even remembers his first name. Yet he’s seen the way Elizabeth Prentiss revels in a world seemingly dominated by men, a woman in a league of her own. He wonders just how much the Ambassador has sacrificed; wonders if her daughter might be amongst that list. It would certainly explain their tenuous relationship.

“So what do you say? Surely you don’t want to sit around listening to a bunch of old guys spout a bunch of half truths to line their pockets?” She seems unbothered yet again, almost amused by the sight in front of her - as if her premonition of how the night would go is coming true.

There’s nothing he wants less. “How do you suppose I get out of this? I’m still on the clock, you know.”

“I’ll leave that up to you.” Emily sets the champagne flute on a nearby serving tray and spins on her heel, sauntering back towards the center of the ballroom. “I’ll be outside of the South Gate when you figure it out.”

…

In the end, he makes up an excuse to leave. It’s not exactly convincing and the agent in charge doesn’t exactly believe him when he feigns an emergency - food poisoning. But Aaron has always had an exceptionally good poker face, grimacing just enough to make it look questionable, and the other agent curtly nods, grunting something about having enough security for the evening, and making up the hours later in the week. It falls on deaf ears - he’s already out the doors of the security office, a small grin playing at the corners of his lips as he strides across the asphalt driveways with his back toward the house.

Sure enough, Emily is waiting for him, finishing the rest of a cigarette when he pulls around to the South Gate. He keeps his taillights off; the less attention he draws to himself the better.

His car has seen better days, the leather seats worn smooth and the stereo outdated, the steering wheel permanently indented from the grip of his own two hands, scuff marks and faded carpets. But it’s well maintained, and Emily smiles appreciatively when he holds the passenger side door open, then explains how to adjust the seat, just in case . She doesn’t seem to notice at all, just unceremoniously tugs her long skirt out of the way of the door and kicks off her heels.

“Fucking things,” she grumbles. The heels are sharp as knives, ridiculously impractical yet Aaron can’t help but picture her wearing them in a dress much shorter than the one she currently has on. He shakes his head, reminding himself not to go there, because the reality is, she’s still his boss’s daughter, and if anyone were to see them, he’d most definitely be written up, maybe worse, for taking her off property without following protocol. But she’s close enough to touch, her arm a gentle weight against his own on the center console.

“So,” Aaron asks, his voice barely audible. He shifts the car into reverse, breath hitching when his knuckles brush against her hand. “Just where is this diner you speak so highly of?”

“Silver Spring.”

“I thought you said DC.”

“It’s close enough.” Emily tucks a long piece of hair behind her ear with a roll of her eyes. “Just trust me.”

It’s the way she says it that makes him wonder if she would do the same for him. Aaron grips the wheel in silence as the cool night air seeps through the open windows. He catches her shiver and is about to offer his jacket when she breaks the silence.

“Make a right up at the light, and then it’s a quick left.” Emily shifts in the passenger seat. Her fingers twitch as if she were still holding a cigarette between them; she tucks her hand against her cheek daintily. She’s very much aware the passenger side is nearly spotless - nothing to indicate someone sits there frequently. No wayward sunglasses or a forgotten piece of jewelry belonging to a significant other. She straightens the wrinkled fabric of her dress and lowers her eyes.She’d had him pegged wrong - certainly he’d had it all figured out, the well intended nature that comes along with a mostly idyllic existence. She imagined a naive wife or girlfriend completely enamored with him, both parties working to make ends meet for bigger and better things - not happiness, for one. That they had in spades. But maybe a white picket fence, a dog and a baby or two one day.

Instead, he seems lonely and guarded, a choice he was forced to make. Circumstances, maybe, she thinks as the traffic light ahead blinks from a glowing green to yellow, to red. It shines a little brighter than usual, a universal warning everyone should understand . It makes her shiver again.

“Here. Take my jacket” The red light gives him the chance to shrug out of the confines of his suit jacket, which he hands over. He palms the wheel a little tighter when she wraps herself into it, the fabric draping over her like a shield.

“This is the place?” Aaron studies the gaudy exterior of the diner, hard to miss and yet, the type of place you wouldn’t give a second thought. The fluorescent lighting nearly blinds him, and he’s somewhat surprised to see through the windows that multiple tables are full despite the late hour. He can hardly conceal his disbelief. “How’d you learn about this place?”

“Word gets around,” Emily says lightly as she slips her shoes back on, wincing slightly when she stands upright, nearly enveloped by his jacket. “I’ve learned not to judge a book by its cover. Maybe you should do the same.”

They find a booth in the back, tucked away from the clamor of the bustling kitchen and constant jingle of the doors. Again they’re left with nothing but silence, a few wayward glances, and two plastic coated menus between them. The haggard waitress only nods abruptly at their order - two black coffees, one with splenda and one without, one slice of apple pie, and two forks.

“You think she thinks we’re a couple?”

“I’m sure she has a lot more on her mind than us.” Aaron twists the paper straw wrapper between his fingers and studies her across the table. What he’s not expecting is to realize she’s doing the same thing - analyzing his body language with a degree of precision that matches his own, an expression that hides what she’s thinking. He wonders if she’s practiced it over time. She wears his jacket like a coat of armor yet she’s curious, the mundane quietness of the diner a stark contrast to their initial surroundings a short time ago.

“How does someone like you end up working for my mother?” Emily asks out of nowhere, direct and forward without an ounce of hesitation. It could be mistaken for an interrogation, he muses.

“Someone like me?”

“Decent. With manners. Not some macho guy with a little man complex or some baggage like that who gets off swinging his gun around.” She blows the straw wrapper across the table; it hits him square in the shoulder and stays here until he flicks it off. She doesn’t seem to notice as the waitress sets down their much anticipated order amidst a promise to come back with some cream for the coffee.

It’s his turn to laugh; he knows exactly what type she’s referring to. He could name more of them than he has fingers. “Trust me, it wasn’t supposed to turn out this way.”

Emily carves out a large bite of apple pie with her fork, eyes closing with delight as it disappears between her lips, along with a delicate moan. “This is so good.” She pushes the pie plate towards him. “So then what was it?”

“Bad timing, for starters.” Aaron stabs his fork into the jagged slice of pie, cuts off a bite for himself. His stomach growls; it’s been hours since the early dinner he’d scarfed down behind the wheel on his way back to work the shift he just abandoned. “You’re right,” he says around a mouthful of apple and pastry crust. “That’s really good.”

“Told you.” She proudly lifts her shoulders, momentarily triumphant before she digs in for another bite. But she also looks expectant, ready for an answer, even with another forkful of pie. He supposes he owes her one.

“I wanted to join the FBI,” Aaron begins slowly. It comes to him that she’s only the second person he’s ever told any of this to. He supposed talking about it would make it real, take it from a pipe dream to something that could irrevocably fail right in front of his own eyes.

“The big leagues, huh?” She waves her fork in a circle, and it takes a moment for him to realize she isn’t totally shocked. “I could see that, actually, now that you mention it. You have the poker face for it, at least.” Emily gives a little grin, one that meets her eyes. “But that didn’t happen?”

“Had the application filled out and everything. Was going to send it in.”

“So what happened?”

“My girlfriend … She didn’t like the idea. The recruitment process takes months and basic training even longer. Close to a year sometimes. Haley wanted me to do something a little more traditional. Wanted me home at 6 for dinner and around on the weekends.” He takes another bite of pie, partially to gather his thoughts, and to let Emily give her own.

“Girlfriend, huh?”

“Well.” The fork in his hand feels heavy all of a sudden; he sets it down with a clatter. “We’re taking a break right now.”

She takes in his words, chuckles a little bit. “I’m a little disappointed in myself. I definitely had you all wrong.”

“You keep saying that.” It’s more of a question than a statement, a curiosity he can’t contain.

“I took you as settled. Happy. With Haley. ” His girlfriend’s name rolls off her tongue; hearing it sounds strange, like she’s saying something she shouldn’t.

“I’m ... figuring things out. We’re figuring things out.”

“Do you love her? Does she love you?” Emily asks directly without hesitation. “If you do, there shouldn’t be much to figure out.”

He stiffens. “I don’t … not love her. But we want different things. At some point, you have to be honest with each other, right? When you can’t make it work, what do you do?”

“I’m definitely not the person to ask.” She laughs but there isn’t any humor in it, more of a resigned sadness if he looks close enough through the rough edges hidden by carefully curated appearance. “Relationships aren’t something I’ve had a ton of luck with.”

“Maybe you’re dating the wrong people.”

“Maybe.” She looks around the diner, rests her chin in her hands. “I’m pretty directionless myself at the moment, if it makes you feel better.”

“It doesn’t, but thank you.” He takes a sip of coffee, more for something to do with his hands than a need for it. He wants to know more, wants to ask just what could possibly make her directionless. Someone who seemingly had it all.

“Sounds like we’re both lost.” There’s a dreamlike tone to her voice, as if they’re sharing a secret.

“We don’t have to be.”

“If I keep going at this rate, I’ll be a bored socialite by 30 throwing cocktail parties every night and getting drunk by the pool by day.”

“Who says?”

“No one has to say it. It’s … expected of me, I think?”

“Is that so?”

“I’m certainly not following in my mother’s footsteps into politics.” She scoffs. There’s contempt in her voice, for what he deduces is years of being put second, something she never asked for but received over and over again. “What else is there for me to do? Someone has to carry on the family tradition somehow.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” Emily says, dragging her fork through some of the remaining bits of pie on the plate. She flicks a crumb into the air.  “I’ve never really had a home , you know. Most of my life has been spent overseas. Just staying in one place for a while would be nice.”

“I always wanted to get away.” Aaron laments. “From Manassas at least.”

“Well, that’s understandable. You aren’t missing much there, or so I’ve heard.” She stirs a spoon into her coffee to work in the mess of splenda packets she’s dumped in.

He watches the liquid swirl, her mezmirzation at it. Something comes to him - something he’s always wanted to know. “Is it true you speak four languages?”

Emily looks up from her coffee, temporarily distracted by his question. “Six, actually. French, Italian, Spanish, Arabic, Greek, and some Russian.” She ticks them off on her fingers nonchalantly as if she were counting inanimate objects.

He does a double take. “Six? I can barely handle English.”

“It’s always been easy for me. I just wish I knew what to do with it, you know?”

“When I applied, I remember seeing that the FBI needs linguists. People with language experience to work overseas.” He takes his own fork to the last remaining bits of the pie, watching her face carefully for a reaction. She’s almost unreadable; he can’t discern just what she’s thinking.

She laughs - not the reaction he expected. “You know, applying for the FBI would absolutely piss my mother off entirely. She would hate it if I did that. Kind of makes me want to do it.”

“She and Haley should meet. I’m sure they’d have lots to talk about.”

“You want to hear what I think?” Emily says after a few long moments, the coffee and the pie that once sat between them are now gone. “I think you should go for it. The FBI. Do it and don’t look back. And call your girlfriend. Let her talk, but tell her how you feel.”

“And?”

“If she comes back, then you know it’s meant to be.”

...

“Never even knew this place existed,” Aaron says, lingering at Emily’s elbow as they pick their way across the pebbled driveway of the diner. She’s a little unsteady on the heels now, not unsurprising given the late hour and the time they spent sitting down.

“Who knew a diner in the middle of Silver Spring Maryland would have such great pie?” Dangling from her wrist is a to-go bag with an extra slice of pie for the morning - the waitress had kindly given her one on the house - the leftovers from the day before.

“I thought New Jersey was the diner capital of the world,” Aaron muses. “New Jersey is all about their diners and traffic circles.”

“And Bruce Springsteen,” Emily adds pointedly. “He’s from New Jersey.”

“Him too.” Aaron laughs quietly. The tension in his shoulders mounts; he doesn’t want this to end. He wants to talk to her, wants to keep her there. But the moment feels final. Emily catches the wrist of the hand that reaches out to cup her cheek, wraps her fingers around it. “If things were different -” he starts quietly, looking almost embarrassed.

“I don’t think that’s how it’s supposed to go, is it?” Emily leans into the weight of his calloused palm, into the touch of a man that isn’t her own. It feels foreign, like she’s taking something that isn’t hers. “I don’t think that’s in our cards, Aaron. Maybe in a different life.”

The ride back to DC is again silent, save for the crinkling of the paper bag in her lap. Aaron skips the main entrance and the long paved driveway, taking a shortcut around the massive property to the South Gate entrance. Emily side eyes him, looking slightly impressed. “Trying to remain inconspicuous?”

“I think that’s for the best.”

“I’d like to think this is how we were supposed to meet,” she offers as he pulls up to the outside of the South Gate. “For a brief moment in time, that’s all. To steer one another in the right direction, if you will.”

“Maybe.” He tells himself to pull away, curling it back around the steering wheel protectively. “Remember what I told you, Emily.” He watches her reach for her shoes, their moments together dwindling down to seconds. “Don’t live your life on the terms of someone else. Especially your mother. If our paths cross again and you’re a bored socialite throwing cocktail parties, we’ll have to talk.”

She loops some hair behind her ear, gives him a small smile. “If our paths cross again in ten years and you aren’t leading some FBI unit somewhere, I’ll have some words for you as well.” She draws a breath, carefully slips on her shoes. “Thank you for the pie, Aaron.” The creak of the passenger side door is the only thing he hears as she slips away like a ship in the night, not to turn back around.

Aaron watches her disappear across the grass, blending into the deep blue of the early morning, the sky not quite awake but out of the depths of night. She’s a shadowy dark figure amidst the promise of a new day. The clock on the dashboard nears 6:00 AM. The little red numbers glow are a reminder of the inevitable crash that will most definitely come later on. He isn’t 20 anymore, after all. But when he drives away, there’s a sense of renewal, one he can’t explain, but deep down understands.

He hands in his resignation before he can work another shift, and he never does make up the time he promised. Three days after that, he mails a thick packet of papers in a standard manila envelope to the FBI Headquarters in Quantico.

A week after that, he takes out his phone and dials Haley’s number. About thirteen years later, his son comes into the world, wailing and screaming with healthy lungs and a head of dark hair. Haley is tired and beaming, his pride is obvious as the tiny bundle is placed in his arms.

They name the baby Jack.

In some ways, the stars aligned.

He’ll sometimes wonder if Emily’s did too.

…

Present Day

“Why didn’t things ever work out between the two of you?”

Dave’s voice brings him back to reality, out of the daydream he’s held so close to his heart for so many years. It’s jarring at first, a confusing limbo of then and now, past and present blending together for a few long moments. He glances around, the harsh overhead lights glaring bright, the low hum of hospital sounds reverberating through his ears. Along with it comes the reality of why he’s there, and the bitter rush of fear that floods his consciousness.

“Timing.” Aaron spins his now empty coffee cup in his hands. “Even after Haley and I got divorced, it was never the right time.”

“You’re going to blame timing ? That’s the oldest trick in the book.”

“I never wanted to take the risk.” It’s the closest thing he can think of as truth. They built a tentative friendship after a rocky start, something built on mutual respect. His divorce brought new challenges - co parenting amidst a ridiculously stressful career, supporting and leading his team. Emily had always been one to hold her own, a silent backbone of their team, a friend to all of them. He’d relied on her, never wanted to lose what they had in hopes of something else . Ian Doyle had taken her from them all; her return was tense and it didn’t take a profiler to understand that Quantico just wasn’t home to her anymore. He let her walk away, encompassed by a fragile shell of his own tentative happiness, and in the years after she went to London, there was a permanent hole in his heart that never quite mended itself again. “Maybe I should have.”

“Love is a choice, Aaron. It doesn’t just happen. You have to choose to make things work.” Dave leans back in his seat, checks his watch, an eyebrow arching just a bit. “I thought you would have known that by now.”

“You and Krystall made a choice?”

“We still do. Every day we have to choose to love each other. Some days it’s easy. Others, not so much. But you know the best part?”

“I think you’re going to tell me anyway, Dave.”

“It’s never not been worth it, Aaron.” There’s a subtle gleam in his eye that wasn’t there before. “Something tells me you might just feel the same, if you gave it a chance.” Dave fumbles for his phone, patting the pockets of his jeans and then that of his blazer before finally pulling the phone from his breast pocket. He flips it open, his eyes widening at whatever message lights up the tiny screen.

“What is it?” Aaron asks with baited breath.

Dave looks up from his phone. For the first time since all of this began, he looks full of hope. “Emily’s out of surgery.”

…

The surgeon is pleased with the outcome of Emily’s procedure, and the air around them seemingly lightens with each minute he explains the procedure, and its success. The three of them hang on every word he says, asking questions and seeking assurances.

“She should be awake within a few hours. We’ll know more then, but her brain activity is good, and her vitals are strong. Agent Prentiss got very lucky. I have patients who often have a very different outcome.”

The relief is palpable, as if the tension was cut with a knife as they all exchange optimistic smiles and tentative handshakes, while profusely thanking Emily’s surgeon. Aaron excuses himself to call Jack - something he should have done hours ago. “I’m not going far,” he reminds Dave, his words a warning of what to do if anything changes in the next few minutes.

“We’ll be right here.”

Mendoza is shrugging into his jacket and digging for his keys with a look of resignation on his face. He catches Dave’s sideways glance. “I think it’s time I head out, Dave. Please give Emily my best wishes on a quick recovery when she’s discharged.” There’s a change in his voice, one that wasn’t there earlier.

“You’re leaving?” Dave asks curiously. “You aren’t going to stay and see Emily? It shouldn’t be much longer before we can go in.”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

Mendoza shakes his head, runs a hand over his scalp. “I learned something tonight. You know when it’s just not meant to be, but you can’t find the reason why?”

Dave nods, a glimmer of understanding appearing in his eyes. “I do. I know it very well, actually.”

“I think I found the why.” His eyes roam around before they finally land on Aaron and Dave’s do too. The phone is still pressed to his ear but he’s still staring right into Emily’s room, never once looking away, even as his mouth moves in conversation to Jack on the other end. “I tried to deny it, so did Emily. But I don’t think her heart ever belonged to me. I think it belonged to him.”

—

Emily finally wakes up a few hours later. Aaron and Dave wait outside the room as she’s tended to by a horde of surgeons and nurses, testing brain function and vital signs, spattering off medical terms with ease. It’s a language only they understand, one Aaron never wants to learn. But their voices are hopeful, they have smiles on their faces as they talk to Emily, assessing her cognition and running tests. She’s a little confused and extremely tired, but awake and alert . Dave is just as relieved to see things appear normal; they’re both very aware of just how lucky they got.

Eventually, they’re finally allowed to see her.

“Do you mind if I … “ Aaron trails off, except he doesn’t need to finish the question.

“Go, Aaron. I take it you have some things you want to get off your chest,” Dave quips. “I’m going to call the others and give them an update. They’ve been waiting awhile.” He departs with a pat of encouragement on the back, a shared moment between them.

Moments later, he’s back in her room, at her side on the same uncomfortable chair from earlier. Her eyes flicker open once again, widening almost impossibly when she sees him. Years of unanswered questions are written on her face in seconds, a shared history fraught with more than what most people experience in a lifetime. But there’s something oddly content there too, as if she woke up from a dream that has somehow materialized in front of her.

“Hey,” Aaron says softly, reaching out with a nervous hand to touch her for the first time in years . He dodges wires and IV lines, finds her fingers with his own and gives a gentle squeeze. “You’re up.”

“You’re here?” Emily blinks with confusion, still making sense of just how she got there in the first place. “But I thought you were .. you and Jack are in Philadelphia. What are you doing here?”

“Of course I’m here,” he says soothingly, ignoring her question. They can talk about that later. “How are you feeling?”

Emily gives a wry grin, slightly distorted and weak, but there. “They asked me who the President of the United States was.”

It’s his turn to smirk. “What did you tell them?”

“To ask me after 45 leaves the Oval Office,” she says without hesitation. “I think I made at least two of them laugh.” But then something comes over her face, the reality of it all setting in. “You came all this way,” she croaks, throat raw from the intubation tube. “How did you know about all of this?”

“You were there for me, remember?” He’s not only talking about Foyet, but all the years she spent at his side. The years they spent doing a dance around one another,  their steps never quite aligning. This time feels like a second chance he never thought he’d get, one he can’t mess up.

“That was a lifetime ago, Aaron. So much has happened since then.” Emily tries to sit upright, pushes herself up about halfway before exhaustion overtakes her. She grumbles in frustration; he shouldn’t smile but he does. It means the Emily he knows, the Emily he fell in love with years ago is somewhere in there.

“Take it easy,” he soothes, adjusting the pillows so she’s more vertical than horizontal. He uses the opportunity to press a kiss against her forehead. He touches his own to hers and murmurs, “That’s something I should have done a long time ago.”

A smile spreads across her face, just as brilliant as the night he met her. She remembers it all, just as well as he does. “Funny how it always seems to take one of us dying to figure things out.”

“What are you talking about?” It’s a morbid thought, one he can’t entertain for long because despite his question, there’s an element of truth to it. He brushes some hair from her eyes and tucks it behind her ear. It’s matted in his fingers and dirty yet he doesn’t even notice. His heart swells, the hand in her hair trails down to her cheek, a thumb against the blush that spreads there. “And by the way, that’s not funny.”

“I’m saying maybe after I get out of this place,” she gestures to the mess of monitors and wires and tubes, “You can ask me out on a date. Finally.”

“Anywhere,” Aaron agrees. He would go anywhere, if it meant he could be with her.

“I know a place in Silver Spring. Supposedly they have the best apple pie in DC.”

[welcometoclass1ahell]

Fake Redemption Dabi x Fem! Reader

Another depressive read from a depressive writer. Boom ta da Dabi x Reader who clearly needs help. Please No minors, even if this isn’t sexual it’s still meant fo adults.

Word Count: 2088

But TW!: Abuse, drugs, cocaine, abuse and more abuse, depressive triggering shit

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She knew.

It was a terrible idea. She however accepted that idea. It didn't matter if it was the worst idea either. She wanted this.

The cold air whipped into her face as if someone just threw a glass of water filled with reality onto her. Why was she going? Why did she think she deserved it? That last thought caused a strained laugh to spill from her almost blue lips. 

Thankfully nobody would see her laughing at her own self at this time at night, standing next to the bus stop. She wasn’t even waiting for a bus, it was just another distraction for her. Taking her time was only delaying what was coming.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

Pulling her phone from her pocket, she looked at the name calling her, her lips curling into a sneer. “Impatient to get this over with huh?” mumbling to herself, she silenced the call and continued on the dark road towards the only place she knew would get her what she wanted. No. What she needed.

Walking there was the part she hated the most. It gave her time to rethink, to go over her thoughts repeatedly until she hated herself more for it. 

Finally getting there felt like a redemption, a false one, but a redemption indeed. Looking at her goal, the rusted iron door to an old worn down factory that screamed ‘Stay away!’ only enticed her closer. Raising her hand she knocked three times slowly and waited as she heard the heavy footsteps on the other side.

The door creaked open to reveal what she had been waiting for, a man who would have caused children to cry and mothers to scream at one glance of his jet black inked face and arms. “You could have answered my call, doll” The man who referred to himself as Dabi drawled out his eyes narrowing down on her.

“Could have, but didn’t,” She responded tiredly yet a tone of anxiety seeped through her voice. Shrugging, Dabi side stepped letting the woman enter before slamming the door shut and locking it to make sure no one would be interrupting tonight. “You got everything?” She asked as she walked over to a small wooden crate, one of the few only items left in this abandoned building. Sitting down she turned her eyes to Dabi who nodded with a smirk and walked over pulling out a baggie with white substance coating the insides.

“I got everything, all yours doll. I also made sure no one will be around till morning. Are you sure you want to do this again?” He asked, his godly blue eyes staring into her own eyes made them both pause. Now normally, he couldn’t give a rat's ass who he made dealings with but this frequent customer of his had his curiosity. She wanted something nobody has asked of him ever. Not willingly anyway.

“Yes. I doubled the payment as well, I need this to last a while,” She stated matter of factly before shrugging off her coat. Dabi’s eyes couldn’t help but peer down at her arms covered in bruises. He hated to admit it but the swirls of yellow, blue, green, purple, and even black were beautiful to him. Maybe he was biased, since he was the one who had put them there.

“You know I don't usually ask about anybody’s business, but I’d like to know. Why do this to yourself?” He couldn’t help but ask as he watched her smile up at him like a lunatic. He knew better though, she was only faking the smile.

“Wouldn’t you like to know Mr. Dabi?” She responded keeping her edge of mystery and teasing as he threw her the bag of snow which she caught with two hands. Opening the bag she eyed the substance and once satisfied she pulled out her phone and her debit card. Cutting lines silently, she didn’t bother to acknowledge her supplier, still staring at her with amusement. “It’s just not everyday a pretty woman comes knocking and asks for some supplies as well for her dealer to absolutely beat the shit out of her to go along with it. I prefer beating the people who owe me money, not pay me money,” 

“Funny isn't?” She retorted back as she rolled a dollar bill from her wallet into a fine tube before lowering her face but not before she looked up at Dabi through her eyelashes, “However I don’t go around asking anybody to beat me up you know? You just happen to be a very handsome man who knows how to hit the spot just right,” Her laughter filled the cold room for a moment as Dabi couldn’t help but chuckle a bit himself. “You intrigue me, dollface,” Was the only response she got before she put the dollar tube up to her nose, expertly inhaling the lines she had set up.

“I’ll give it a moment to kick in and we can start, yeah?” Dabi only nodded before kicking another crate close to the one she was sitting on and sat across from her,” How about after we finish up here, you and me go for a drink? My place?” He offered to which the woman sat still as she looked at him in disbelief. “We’ve met up numerous times, fucked once or twice, smoked or did lines once and twice, but every time I always had to beat you till I wasn’t sure if you were breathing or not. But me asking you out to drink is shocking?” Dabi teased after getting no response with a smile before he received a nod.

“Fine, I suppose that's alright,” She agreed and both her and Dabi sat in silence for a few moments before she started to feel the rush come to her veins. Energy began to flow through her as she stood up and walked to the middle of the spacious factory room signaling Dabi to follow to which he did. Turning around to say she was ready was only met with a harsh punch to her cheek which had her huff out in surprise. No noise spilled from her lips as her head cracked to the side. Kicks, punches, spit, and anything else Dabi could do to her, she felt for the past hour. It felt painful of course, but so freeing. It was just what she needed. She longed for some type of touch, something to pull her from the edge of slipping through the cracks of insanity and this…..oh yes this was her redemption. 

Everyone always left her, friend or lover. Parents or teachers. She was always given up on or abandoned. She couldn’t figure it out. Years of being neglected as a child to now being seen as nothing but a waste of ‘potential’, whatever that meant, had her come to realize a false truth. She was the problem. Now deep down she knew it wasn’t that. She never did anything. She only had hateful parents, fake friends, teachers who just couldn’t care for their less paying jobs, and lovers who needed a quick fuck bring her down to this level. But she needed a reason otherwise it would hurt more. She decided she was the problem. She didn’t communicate enough. She was the one who didn’t try harder, who kept trying till something worked. It was all her fault and now to this day she seeked her false redemption.

She loved the sound and feeling of Dabi’s knuckles cracking against her face, the way his heavy boots collided with her ribs giving off a satisfying thump, or the way he spat on her with a loathsome look in his eyes. She loved it all because she knew at the end of the day he wouldn’t leave her. He wouldn’t neglect what she wanted, no what she needed. He was always there. That’s why she kept coming. The pain, the feeling of adrenaline, the focus of someone else on her was what she loved having.

She felt free, as if this was going to lift her out of her shithole of a life. The sad fact however is once it began it also ended. Lying on the cold cement ground, heaving deep breaths of air in her lungs as the drugs still pumped through her veins wasn’t enough. She wanted more. Pushing herself up with shaking arms, she tried to stand up to face more. The fresh bruises on her face screaming in the beautiful vibrant colors couldn’t be felt to her. No she could never feel the after effects for a while but she can feel the impact. It was powerful enough to get through the drug that way.

“M...More,” She breathed out looking up to the onyx haired man who simply had taken out a cigarette and started to smoke. “I think you’ve had enough for-”

“It’s never fucking enough! I need more! Please...im begging you,” She screamed out, her voice echoing through the facility as Dabi stared at her in shock. She never screamed at him before. In fact he’s never heard her raise her beautiful voice to anyone. She knew she looked pitiful, he could tell with the way her face started to scrunch up in shock from herself. Taking a deep drag of his smoke, he squatted down so the balls of his heels were firmly planted into the ground.

“Hey...look at me,” He gently muttered as he helped her sit up before his eyes bore into her own. “That's enough. Here, take a hit,” He offered to which she took, her pupils still large and round as she looked back at him, “Listen, after a while I kind of started to figure you out. You don’t need this to feel something you know. You don't deserve to do this to yourself,” He started to which she looked at him with wide eyes, tears starting to pool threatening to spill over.

“You don’t know that,” She simply stated in a hurt quiet tone. “No, I don’t. But you know what I do know? People who do deserve this don’t do this to themselves. They bring it out on others. I would know that at least,” Dabi responded lightly, “You come here every three days. Every three days you pay me to do this to you. Every three days you get yourself so fucked up and get me to beat the living shit out of you and for what?”

“It’s the only thing I have Dabi! I want to fucking feel something for christ sake! Don’t I pay you enough?”

“It’s not about the fucking money anymore!” Dabi roared back, causing both to be silent for a few seconds before he continued, “It’s about the fact that I’m starting to feel like shit doing this to you. Dealing you shitty drugs is one thing, but beating up a woman who’s so pathetically on the verge of not caring for her own life anymore is something else,” He spat more harshly than he meant to. Sighing, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear,” Doll, I don’t want to be the reason you want to end it. I want to be the reason you start something more. I hate to admit it but after a year of this shit I can’t help but start caring for the mystery woman who like to have her ass get kicked,” He laughed to which she couldn’t help but join in a little.

“Why?” Was the only response she gave to which he shrugged, “You’re cute for one thing, but from the times we fucked, drank, smoked, you show something more than this. I want to see more of it. If you really want to feel something then let me show you another way,” He offered, holding his hand out. 

Staring at him then his hand she took it with a small sigh,”I...I don’t know but...I’ll try,” She agreed to which Dabi smirked, ”That’s all you gotta do. Try,” He said, happy to finally have her do something other than this. If only she knew that though his sweet words and handsome promises of something better was still a fall. This man wasn’t good, healthy either. A shady drug dealing and maybe even murderous bastard he was but still, to her right now he looked nothing but an angel. Oh but if she only saw in the shadows how broken and fallen his wings actually looked. 

[bloody-bee-tea]

JC Love Month 2020 Day 4

Amusement

This is entirely dedicated to @sarah-yyy because she left these tags on my BeeTober 2020 Day 31 fic: #also i would die to see that conversation between nmj and jc!!!  #was jc really not as dense as he proclaimed?? how hard did nmj have to hint at the date ahhh 

The answer is that he had to hint so hard.

Jiang Cheng is pinching the bridge of his nose before he even dials Nie Huaisang’s phone.

He just knows this phone call is going to be unpleasant, simply because Nie Huaisang cannot understand that Jiang Cheng still did not ask his brother out.

Well, Nie Huaisang can suck it, because right now there’s a dozen different things Jiang Cheng has to worry about, and his crush on Nie Mingjue is like the very least of it.

“Jiang Cheng, what a pleasure!” Nie Huaisang greets him with much more cheer than Jiang Cheng can take at that moment.

“Not today,” Jiang Cheng bites out and Nie Huaisang falls silent on the other end of the line. “Sorry, Huaisang, but not today,” Jiang Cheng repeats, much softer this time and Nie Huaisang sighs.

“What happened?”

“I need a meeting with your brother,” Jiang Cheng says and there’s a very long silence from Nie Huaisang.

“A meeting,” he finally repeats. “A business meeting?”

“A job interview,” Jiang Cheng admits and he knows that got Nie Huaisang’s attention.

“You did it,” Nie Huaisang breathes and he sounds totally excited. “Did you do it? Did it really happen?” Nie Huaisang goes on and Jiang Cheng sighs.

“Yes, yes, I did it,” Jiang Cheng tells him and then takes the phone from his ear when Nie Huaisang starts to cheer. “Would you calm down, fuck,” Jiang Cheng hisses out but it barely does anything to calm Nie Huaisang down.

“I cannot believe you really did it. Tell me everything. How did it happen? What did Wei Wuxian say? What did your father say?” he asks and Jiang Cheng feels very, very tired.

“I don’t know,” he honestly says. “I handed in my notice, but he didn’t have the time to accept it personally so I gave it to his assistant. I doubt my father already read it.”

“Oh, boo, that’s so lame,” Nie Huaisang whines. “What about Wei Wuxian?”

“Doesn’t yet know about it,” Jiang Cheng gives back. “I’ll tell him when he comes home. Father is bound to gush to him about today, about what amazing work he did and with how it’s been going recently, Wei Wuxian is not going to take it well.”

“Good,” Nie Huaisang says with vehemence and Jiang Cheng can almost see him nod vigorously, his hair flying around.

“So, a meeting with your brother?” Jiang Cheng asks again and Nie Huaisang snaps back to attention.

“You really want to work for him?” he wants to know and Jiang Cheng shrugs even though Nie Huaisang can’t see it.

“It’s not like I have much choice,” Jiang Cheng says, even though that’s not the reason at all. “Lan Qiren will sell me out to my father the second I ask him for help and I would rather kill myself than work for Jin Guangshan,” he says.

“And?” Nie Huaisang prompts.

“And I really admire the work you all do at Nie Corps and it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to work for your brother.”

“Mh, sure,” Nie Huaisang says, clearly not believing Jiang Cheng at all. “Give me five minutes,” he then says and hangs up on Jiang Cheng without waiting for a reply.

“Unbelievable,” Jiang Cheng mutters but he keeps his phone close.

If Nie Huaisang says he needs five minutes then he’ll probably call back in four.

And just like Jiang Cheng predicted, his phone rings again exactly four minutes later.

“So?” Jiang Cheng asks without greeting, and Nie Huaisang lets out a put out huff.

“You could at least greet me like a normal person,” Nie Huaisang whines, but when he’s only met with silence, he goes on. “I talked to da-ge, he can squeeze you in for a meeting in an hour.”

There’s a special emphasis on squeeze, and Jiang Cheng wants to strangle Nie Huaisang, because he just knows he’s wriggling his eyebrows.

“Shut up,” Jiang Cheng snaps out, but before Nie Huaisang can complain he goes on. “And thank you. Seriously.”

“No need to thank me,” Nie Huaisang says. “Just finally put da-ge and yourself out of your misery.”

“There is no—” Jiang Cheng starts, but he’s only met with the beeping tone, telling him that Nie Huaisang has yet again hung up on him.

Fine, whatever. He’s not going to pass an opportunity like this up, that much is clear, and so he gets ready to meet with Nie Mingjue.

Jiang Cheng can’t deny that he’s nervous, because he didn’t have to go to a job interview so far—it was always clear he’d get an intern position at Jiang Corps—and he curses that fact now.

And he very resolutely refuses to think about the fact that half of his nervousness is coming from seeing Nie Mingjue.

“Fuck,” Jiang Cheng mutters, because maybe Nie Huaisang is right and there is some pining and misery—at least on his side—and it’s the worst time now to think of this. He needs to be calm and serious and he needs to blow Nie Mingjue away if he wants to have a chance in his company.

Jiang Cheng takes a few deeps breaths before he enters through the main entrance of Nie Corps. It seems like he’s been expected, because he is immediately led to an office.

“If you would wait here for a moment,” Nie Zonghui tells him and Jiang Cheng can only nod before Nie Zonghui disappears in the office, where no doubt Nie Mingjue is sitting.

It’s not long before Nie Zonghui comes back out again, and he motions for Jiang Cheng to enter, which he does.

He’s glad no one can see that his knees are slightly shaking because for all that Nie Mingjue is a friend, he’s also the guy who gets to decide if Jiang Cheng is out of a job or not.

“Jiang Cheng,” Nie Mingjue greets him and points at the chair right in front of him.

“Nie Mingjue” Jiang Cheng politely gives back and he wishes this was over already.

For all that he can wrangle the most difficult deals out of anyone, he’s not good at being charming and selling his own strengths.

“I hear you are out of a job,” Nie Mingjue says and Jiang Cheng shrugs as nonchalantly as he can.

“I handed in my resignation just today,” he gives back. “But I have proof I did it, and since I’m just an intern, it’s effective immediately.”

“Please tell me how your father reacted,” Nie Mingjue says and he leans forward in clear anticipation.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Jiang Cheng answers. “I doubt he realized it yet. I handed it in to my father’s assistant, since he didn’t have time to see me.”

“But you would have given it to him personally?” Nie Mingjue wants to know and Jiang Cheng nods.

“Oh yeah,” he breathes out, because he really would have.

He was actually looking forward to it, and he was strangely disappointed when he didn’t get that chance.

“What happened?” Nie Mingjue questions and Jiang Cheng is reminded yet again, that Nie Huaisang might not make a secret out of the fact that he loves gossip, but Nie Mingjue is hardly any better.

He just hides it better.

“We are launching the new phone,” Jiang Cheng tells him and he sees the frown on Nie Mingjue’s face, and it makes him wince.

It’s a heavy blow against the competition, that they get the phone out there, and now Jiang Cheng almost regrets bringing it on its way.

“So I have heard,” Nie Mingjue grumbles and Jiang Cheng gives him his most winning smile.

“If I had known it would turn out like this, I wouldn’t have pressed so hard,” he promises him and is surprised when Nie Mingjue shakes his head.

“But then you wouldn’t have quit and we wouldn’t get to employ you. So it’s alright,” he says and Jiang Cheng is honestly surprised to see that he means it.

“Ah, okay,” he breathes out and then he forces himself to shake the surprise off. “Anyway, Wei Wuxian did all of the crazy inventing, but it’s a rather ambitious project. And it wouldn’t have worked, if I didn’t manage to get as many good deals as I did, if I dare say so myself,” Jiang Cheng says and Nie Mingjue nods.

“You absolutely should dare,” he tells him. “I heard about a few of the deals, they were work of wonders,” Nie Mingjue praises him and Jiang Cheng flushes lightly.

“But my father only saw Wei Wuxian’s work. Again. And I am just tired of it. I know that I am capable and I think I deserve some recognition for my work.”

“Absolutely,” Nie Mingjue agrees yet again, and Jiang Cheng’s flush only deepens at that. “And now you’re here,” Nie Mingjue says with a very meaningful look and Jiang Cheng can’t hold his gaze a second longer.

“And now I’m here,” he agrees, but he mumbles it towards his hands, rather than at Nie Mingjue, and when Nie Mingjue chuckles, Jiang Cheng’s stomach flips.

“And you want to work for me,” Nie Mingjue goes on and Jiang Cheng nods.

“If you could find it in yourself to take me in,” he says, because he knows that it might bring some repercussions with it if Nie Mingjue employs him.

When his father finds out that Nie Corps stole him away—and that will no doubt be how Jiang Fengmian will see it—then it could possibly damage their work relationship.

“Oh, I would have taken you in ages ago, if only you would have been ready to leave Jiang Corps,” Nie Mingjue says and Jiang Cheng looks up again.

Nie Mingjue seems entirely serious about this even though Jiang Cheng finds it hard to believe that anyone should want to employ him.

But he recognizes that it’s the mindset his father instilled in him, and that it’s utterly and completely wrong.

“So I don’t have to go beg Lan Qiren to give me a chance?” Jiang Cheng dares to ask and he’s entirely unprepared to see the serious look on Nie Mingjue’s face.

“Jiang Cheng, if you think you have to beg Lan Qiren for that, you’re mistaken. He would gladly take you in.”

Jiang Cheng frowns at that, because he seriously doubts it, but then Nie Mingjue goes on.

“There’s a position in the branch that Nie Zonghui handles that has a position for you,” he tells him and now Jiang Cheng frowns for real.

He had hoped to work under Nie Mingjue directly, if only so that he would see more of the other man.

“I see,” he hesitantly says, not happy at all with his, but he doesn’t know if he can ask for another position.

“That would mean that Zonghui is your direct superior,” Nie Mingjue goes on, just driving the point home by now, but it doesn’t make Jiang Cheng any happier.

“Understood.”

“You would not be working with me in any capacity and I actually don’t have any bearing on your success here,” Nie Mingjue finally says and this time Jiang Cheng kind of snaps.

“Okay, I get you, you don’t want me to work directly for you or have me associated to your name, understood!”

He expected Nie Mingjue to get angry at that, but instead he can only see amusement on his face and Jiang Cheng flushes bright red when a smile finally shows up on Nie Mingjue’s face and his dimples come out.

“Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue says and that makes Jiang Cheng feel hot for entirely different reasons. “I am just saying that if you start here and you and I were to go out for, let’s say dinner, no one would be able to accuse you of anything.”

“Dinner,” Jiang Cheng repeats, because his brain is a little bit slow right now. “Business dinner?” he asks, just to make sure, but he can already tell by the soft look on Nie Mingjue’s face that business dinner is definitely not what he meant.

“Date dinner,” Nie Mingjue immediately corrects him and Jiang Cheng’s eyes go big.

“Oh,” he breathes out. “So your brother wasn’t wrong when he implied some mutual pining and misery?” he blurts out and is rewarded when Nie Mingjue laughs out loud.

“Oh no, he definitely wasn’t wrong with that,” Nie Mingjue says and he looks so amused Jiang Cheng wants to kiss the smile right off his face.

“When?” he dares to ask and Nie Mingjue doesn’t even pretend to check his no doubt busy schedule.

“Tomorrow. Let me take you out on a date,” Nie Mingjue says, probably just to make it absolutely clear that that is what it is and Jiang Cheng nods eagerly.

“Please,” he gives back and has to sit on his hands so that he doesn’t do something stupid.

“You’ll start in the company on Monday,” Nie Mingjue informs him. “All the paperwork will be done then as well.”

“Okay,” Jiang Cheng nods.

“That means you can kiss me today, if you want,” Nie Mingjue tells him after a beat, because clearly Jiang Cheng is not taking up well on all of his hints.

“Fuck, yes,” Jiang Cheng breathes out and immediately stands up.

He leans over the table, absolutely gratified when Nie Mingjue meets him halfway, and the kiss goes on for longer than it probably should, given that they didn’t have their first proper date, yet.

“I am so looking forward to tomorrow,” Jiang Cheng mutters when they part and freezes when Nie Mingjue presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and then his cheek before he finally sits back down.

“Not as much as I am,” Nie Mingjue promises him, and going by the heat in his eyes, Jiang Cheng even believes him.

When he leaves Nie Mingjue’s office after that, still a little but unsteady on his feet, but this time for entirely different reasons, Jiang Cheng decides that Wei Wuxian can never know about how dense Jiang Cheng was.

That is just for Nie Mingjue to know. And hopefully cherish for a long, long time.

Next part

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

[gaylien51]

Chapter 2: A lot of questions

“Uhhhh hi? Nice dagger you got there” Mikey stared fiercely at the turtle ready to kill if necessary.

The turtle in front of him had a blue mask and two similar red crescent moons on his eyes, he had yellow stripes, a blue slash which seemed to carry a katana, and pouches. He seemed nervous holding up his arms and attempted to smile and seem relaxed. Of course Mikey was easily able to see through it as his eyes burned into the other turtle.

“Who are you? Why do you look like me? What are you doing here? Where is your leader? How long have you been a turtle?” Mikey shot off like rapid fire question after question. He was curious, confused, and extremely annoyed. Especially at himself and the stupid mistake he made.

“ So um hi there, My name is Leo and the two turtles behind me are my brothers Donnie and raph” The now named turtles Donnie and raph looked tense and reaching for their weapons but also nervous and conflicted. “Raph is our ever fierce and loving leader, been a turtle since the day I was born and fabulous, andwethinkyoumightbeourlonglostdeadbrotherbecauseyoulooklikeamutantturtle” Leo rushed out quickly.

Mikey looked at him with a puzzling and disbelieving look, still holding the kunai to his neck. “Drop all of your weapons unless you want your brother to be killed” Mikey instructed as he himself took Leo’s sword and threw it behind him as well as checked the - was that gummy’s in his pouch? Why is there? Never mind Mikey thought as he searched the rest of the pockets. He found more snacks, some kunai, and some shuriken and threw the weapons behind him. The brothers behind Leo looked tense and angry waiting for more instructions and Leo still looked nervous.

“ I’m going to put away my kunai and you are going to walk back slowly towards your brothers, your gonna stand in front of me and explain what the hell you said”. Leo looked nervous as his brothers nodded behind him. As promised Mikey slowly lifted away the kunai from Leo’s neck but still held it in his hand if it’s needed. Leo backed up quickly towards his brothers as the purple one put his hand on his shoulder and the red stepped a little forward in front of him.

“As my fellow brother here expressed we believe your our long lost brother who died in the fire our father saved us from we’ve been looking for you ever since blah blah blah rejoice! We found you” Donatello (?) Responded voice dripping with sarcasm -maybe?sorta? Mikey honestly couldn’t tell.

“ Yaaaaaa no, I was raised by my da- my master Baron Draxum who mutated me and saved my life from an evil rat master who is his sworn enemy and destroyed my other 3 mutant turtle brothers”. Mikey replied with disbelief as his stance was very tense and very awa- “wait... where’d the human go? Bring them out in 3 seconds or there will-

As if on time the human who had seemingly disappeared reappeared from the largest turtle raph holding a baseball bat and phone which they then gently put on the ground looking sheepish while doing so.

“ I should kill you for that pathetic attempt at a surprise attack but it wouldn’t be very nice to kill strangers who claimed to be my dead brothers and I need answers to my questions which only you can give” Mikey said cunningly and face expressing mischief. “ Starting off as to why are you working with a disgusting human? Are they mind controlling you? Or have black mail”. Mikey wouldn’t be surprised if the human was, he’d dealt within many situations described as such in his line of work.

“EXCUSE ME?!?! Who are you calling a disgusting human? Mr. green emo ninja turtle! Your even worst than donn- HEY! I’ll have you know I am not an emo turtle I’m a bad boy tech savvy genius” the brother interrupted continuing to ramble and argue with the human. Mikey could quickly feel a headache coming on and became more frustrated at still not having received answers.

“ENOUGH! Idk who you are! Why your claiming to be my dead brothers! Or why you here! So answer me quickly and efficiently or so help me I’ll will kill all of you and leave no trace of your body’s! Understand?!” Mikey could be truly as short tempered as his father if provoked enough. And he was certainly provoked.

“ Look um... what’s your name?” The red turtle questioned. He had a red mask that covered the top part of his face, bandages that covered most of his hands, and some torn red fabric similar to his mask was being used as a belt and on his elbows. He also had sais that were thrown in front of him.

“ My name is 42- Mikey, my name is Mikey. but that’s not important! If you really are my brothers how did you survive the fire or escape the rat?!” Mikey yelled at them.

“Well we didn’t escape the rat because the rat is our dad! He- We been looking for you ever since we started patrolling to save you from the evil alchemist! Our dear papa saved us from him but wasn’t able to save you so we’ve been trying to bring you back home ever since! I’m sure we can be reasonable and have you come back to the lair so he ca-“. The purple turtle said desperately and with frustration but was interrupted by Mikey holding a kunai to his throat and donnies hand still outstretched toward his arm. As Mikey looked him over he found he had a purple bandanna covering the top of his face, goggles with blue and red lenses, some elbow pads, gloves, socks (?), and what looked like a purple battle shell on his back. His arm device and bo staff (?) was behind him some feet in front of his brothers. His brothers wore the same expression like they did with Leo when he was in this position. Angry and concerned.

“Stop! I don’t care what you say but even if you are my brothers you were raised by the rat! He took you away from me, from my dad, he burnt down dads lab and forced us to rebuild! My da-.” Mikeys was interrupted by Donnie lowering his arm and punching him in the stomach. He stumbled back for a second but quickly regained his balance and took a fighting stance as the brothers did the same.

“ Look Mikey we don’t wanna hurt you! We just want you to come home! Whatever Baron told you was a lie, he kidnapped our dad to use his dna to create super soldiers to destroy humans! He wanted to use us, he’s using you! Come with us to the lair and see our dad he’ll tell you everything!” Raph exclaimed as his brothers nodded with hi. As well as the human.

“ Humans aren’t all that bad! I mean these guys are friends with me and we have fun all the time! We eat pizza together and play at the arcade and do plenty of fun stuff! Right guys?” The brothers agreed with her. His brothers. The same ones who were taken away from him by the evil rat! His fathers sworn enemy! That’s what his dad said and dad always tells the truth!... right? He does right? No he does! He wouldn’t lie to me, he wouldn’t! It must be the human? Ya the human! Ive dealt with humans who somehow got their hands on mystic things to control yokai plenty of times that must be what’s happening! Mikey was angered by his conclusion and zoned in on the human burning his eyes into hers.

“YOU, YOUR CONTROLLING THEM ARENT YOU?!?! LET MY BROTHERS GO!!!” Mikey roared at the vile human in front of him as they had the fuckin decency to play innocent, this is what his dad taught him! Humans are cruel, every single one just like the foot clan! Mikey begun barreling towards the human and threw a kunai aimed to kill.

CLANG

The kunai fell to the ground as it was blocked by Leo’s katana. He wore a furious expression as his eyes seemed to burn bright with fury. All the brothers had reclaimed their weapons and were now standing in front of the human and were prepared for mikeys attack. Mikey took out his tento and begun to fight leo.

“APRIL YOU MIGHT WANNA GET AWAY FROM OUR APPARENTLY REALLY MURDERY BROTHERRRRR!!” Leo exclaims as Mikey lassos him behind him with his kusari fundo. Then raph dives towards Mikey trying to catch him but Mikey jumps out of the way and unfortunately towards Donnie. Donnie than tries throwing a device onto him but Mikey dodged as the device explodes into a protective shield which entraps raph.

“Sorry raph!, Mikey please we don’t wanna fight you! We just want to get both sides of the story, you said your dad raised you right? That he saved you? Well our dad saved us! Did your dad ever explain what happened? Why Lou Jitsu attacked him?!”. Donnie questioned as he blocked an attack from Mikey with his bo staff.

“I don’t wanna hurt you either! But that human is controlling you with mystic magic to do her bidding! SO JUST MOVE OUT OF THE WAY SO I CAN GET TO HER!” Mikey screamed as he lunged again towards the human. Again Donnie got in his way and tried a second time to throw a capsule onto him but Mikey dodged again and soon it was a repeated process as Mikey zig zagged towards Donnie and April coming closer and closer with each failed attempt. Mikey then jumped upwards and threw shuriken at the human but Donnie got in the way again and-

SLASH!

Donnie grit his teeth and held back a scream as the shuriken pierced his shoulder. Mikey landed down and showed remorse only for a second before returning to his cold and steely gaze.

“Why are you controlling my brothers? Now he’s hurt because of you!” Mikey exclaimed with fury.

“IM NOT CONTROLLING ANYONE!!! Donnie are you ok?!” April questioned. “I’m fine tis but a scratch. HEY! Jokes are my thing!” Donnie replied as Leo interrupted. He had recovered although his arm was hanging limply as Leo held it tight. A gash was on his head spilling blood as well.

“Mikey! Please just come with us and pops can explain everything! None of us are being controlled all we want is for you to come home!” Leo yelled at him his voice showing pure honesty and desperation.

Mikey was confused and he was scared. He was angry. Extremely angry but Leo- Leo was calm and sounded honest. He didn’t know what to do.

“I-I want to believe th- AHHHHHHHHH!!!” Mikey screamed in pain and fell to his knees holding his head. Face contorted in overwhelming pain.

“MIKEY!!!” All of them yelled, concerned for their baby brother.

Suddenly a blue portal opened up beneath Mikey and he fell through and then it closed just as quickly.Mikey is gone. Gone again just after they found him.Pure silence enveloped all of them. All with their own thoughts and questions.

“What the hell just happened?” Asked April putting out all of their collective thought.