#i find him as someone whose brightness turns into a spotlight

[athenamikaelson]

War of Scars Pt. 3

Word Count- 2.6k

Warnings- Swearing, mentions of injury

Four days have passed since I last argued with Keiko. I know she has come by the med cabin a few times daily, but Alastair has turned her back around each time. I hear him tell her the same thing each time,

“Give her some time to cool off and regain her strength. Then you can come to bother her again.”

At first, Keiko had tried to get by him, but after the 4th time, she just wordlessly leaves once he tells her to go. A small part of me feels bad for turning away from her. Then I remember all the lies she told me and that small ounce of sadness contorts back to anger. 

A small silver lining these past few days though has been my nurse, or guardian angel as he calls himself, Alastair. Even though he’s the same age as me and has the personality of a rabid ferret, he has been very attentive to me and my healing process. Always checking up on me in the morning and even coming in to keep me company throughout the rest of the day. Most of the time it’s him talking to me about the latest gossip at camp or which cabins to stay clear of. Most of the time I stare at the window by my bed while he does this, barely listening to what he says. He doesn’t seem to notice, or if he has he doesn’t seem to care, since he still finds a way to talk my ear off with everything and nothing at the same time. 

Right now Alastair is trying to ease my bandaged arm into the grey sweatshirt, one of his friends lent him. As Alastair said he would never be caught dead in such a dreary color as grey. 

“I don’t know why we can’t just stay here for a little longer,” I look up to Alastair whose eyebrows are scrunched together in concentration as he eases the rest of the sweatshirt over my shoulders, “We can just stay here and I’ll even let you tell me all about the boy in Cabin 5 who pranked Aphrodite’s cabin or whatever.”

Alastair rolls his blue eyes dusts invisible dirt off my shoulders and brushes my hair away from my face.

“Nope. No can do. Chiron needs to speak with you, and besides you’re all healed so you’ll be moving into the Hermes cabin and out of here.”

I look over to the bed I’ve been sleeping in for the past few weeks and a sense of sadness fills me at the thought. 

“Do I have to move into another cabin? Can’t I stay here for another night?”

Alastair sends me a small smile and moves his hand to the small of my back as he guides me to the front door of the med cabin. I halt at the realization that I haven’t been outside of this cabin since the Chimera attack. I start to blink heavily as my vision starts to blur and my breathing gets faster. 

“Woah, woah just breathe bro! You can’t seriously like this cabin that much,” Alastair rubs his hand up and down my right shoulder soothingly as he tries to joke with me.

“Don’t worry about it ok? We can take as long as you need, and if you’re worried about everyone staring at you, don’t, ok. Most people will be staring at me because I have that effect on people,” He sends me a smirk, “and those who are staring at you just are curious about the girl who survived Zeus’ lightning. After a few days though someone new will enter camp and they’ll be in the spotlight.”

I nod my head slowly as I stand there for a moment and take a deep breath. I open my eyes and send a small nod at Alastair telling him I’m ok. I’m totally not, but he doesn’t need to worry about me anymore. Alastair grasps the handle of the door and lets me walk outside first. 

The bright light is the first thing that enters my vision, momentarily stopping me. I bring my hands up to rub my eyes and continue my steps onto the wooden porch. I glance around to see woods surrounding the med cabin and groups of kids of all ages wearing orange t-shirts running around. None of them seem to notice me though as they all seem to be in their worlds, conversing with one another. 

“Chiron said he would be at the archery field so it shouldn’t be that far of a walk from here.” 

Alastair says as he passes me, and hops down the steps as if he is high on life, or high on something else. This wouldn’t surprise me since no one can be as happy-go-lucky as this kid has been since the moment I met him. 

Alastair and I make our way down a path that a few other kids who appear to be a bit younger than us are also walking on. A bright green forest surrounds us as birds chirp in the air and a light breeze flows through my hair. Alastair walks beside me with a pep in his step and a tune coming from his lips. Every person that’s passed us so far has expressed their excitement to see him which he reciprocates. But, as soon as the other people notice me their attention turns to the light bruises on my face and my covered arm. That excitement quickly dissipates as they walk away, whispering to each other. 

After more whispers and passing glances with the orange-shirted strangers Alastair and I make it to a clearing that opens up to a field filled with kids and archery equipment. As I stare at the field filled with kids the building anxiety I’ve felt begins to burst at the seams. 

“Ah, Y/N it’s nice to see you walking around.”

A deep voice comes from behind Alastair and I. I turn around and my mouth drops open as I stare at the man-horse thing in front of us. 

“You didn’t tell her what I was did you.” 

The man-horse thing smiles down at me after he questions Alastair. I keep staring at him with my mouth open though.

“Oops, I did not,” Alastair turns to me and hisses my name at me as he puts his hand under my chin and pushes up to close my mouth, “Close your mouth girl, damn.”

“It’s quite alright Alastair. I have had much more intense reactions from new campers,” Horse-Man says to him as he glances back at me, “It’s nice to meet you Y/N. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. I hope Alastair has been suitable company for you in your time of healing.”

I hear a gasp of surprise and hurt come from Alastair as he starts going on about how he is insulted Chiron would think anything bad of his company. I’m not too focused on Alastair though as I try to make sense of the Man-horse in front of me. No. Not Man-horse, Chiron. His name is Chiron. 

“I’m Chiron, the activities director here at camp, I am also a centaur which you’ve noticed. I’ve asked Alastair to bring you here so I can give you a personal tour of Camp myself,” Chiron turns to Alastair, “Thank you Alastair for your help. You are free to go.”

I quickly glance at Alastair when I realize the closest thing I have to a friend here at camp is leaving me. Wait, no. Not a friend. He was only with me to help me heal. Now that I’m healed he’ll go back to helping other broken and bruised kids. 

I turn back around, not facing him, and watch some of the kids run around.

“Hey don’t get all moody on me again, Brat.”

Alastair flicks me behind my ear to get my attention. 

“I’ll come to check on you when you’re all settled into the Hermes cabin. My friend lives there too so I’ll make sure he gives you the best attention.”

I look into Alastair's eyes waiting to see some sort of pity or annoyance at the idea of visiting me, but I see nothing but a smile in his eyes. 

“Ya, Ok,” I send him a small nod. 

__________________

“And this is the mess hall, campers come here for arts and crafts and other weekly activities put on by the cabins.” 

I glance at the tall building in front of me that has kids coming and going. Chiron has shown me most of the camp by now, explaining each building and function. We’ve passed many campers, almost all of who’ve given me the same mix of pity and wariness that I’d seen from the campers earlier today with Alastair. 

Chiron leads me down a narrow path towards to cabins as a question enters my mind about something Alastair had said.

“Alastair mentioned something about me surviving Zeus’ lightning bolt,” I strain my neck to glance up at Chiron who’s stopped walking, “What did he mean by that?” 

I watch as a flurry of emotions passes through Chiron’s face as he looks at me. 

“We don’t if what happened to you was Zeus’ doing. It is just a rumor that some of the campers have been talking about. You shouldn’t worry too much about it.” 

A frown makes its way onto my face at Chiron’s dismissive tone as he keeps walking, clearly done with the question. 

“There are 12 cabins in Camp Half-Blood. Three of which no one resides in. As you have not been claimed by your Godly parent, you’ll be staying in Cabin Eleven, Hermes’ cabin.”

I lightly jog to catch up with Chiron, trying not to agitate the stitches on my back. 

“What do you mean, claimed?”

Chiron glances down at me with a solemn look. 

“Claiming is when your godly mother or father claims you as their own. This can be done by completing a quest or by simply participating in a game of Capture the Flag.”

I nod at what he says and continue my walk. 

“You’re not going to ask anything else about claiming?”

I shrug at Chiron’s question and shake my head.

“Why should I care?”

This question gains Chiron’s attention. 

“Most campers question when they’re going to get claimed by their godly parent.”

I stare at Chiron for a moment as a sense of agitation and anger forms in the bottom of my gut. 

“Why would I care about being claimed by a God that never even cared to let me know they existed? One who let me get attacked by some creature, and one who let me be raised by people I thought were my family, but were really just strangers!”

Chiron stares at me with raised eyebrows.

“Y/N, you shouldn’t talk like that. The gods don’t like to be talked badly about.” 

That anger has now been built into something big at hearing Chiron’s words. 

“I don’t give a flying fuck. If my parent has a problem with the way I talk about them, then they can get off their ass and tell me themselves.”

I spit out at Chiron as I start stomping away from him. After a moment Chiron walks up to me. 

“You don’t know where you’re going, do you?”

I huff out in annoyance and throw my hands up, “No!”

I tense up at the feeling of a hand on my shoulder, the same shoulder that is now heavily scarred. Chiron must notice my apprehension as he takes his hand away. 

“I know all of this can be a lot, especially after everything you went through. It’s got to be a lot to deal with and you’re anger is understandable. Just try to channel that energy into something production.”

I roll my eyes at his words, “Ya, like what?”

“Whatever interest you have, any hobbies. Something that makes you feel like the old you again.”

I let Chiron’s words hang in the air as we approach a big wooden cabin, with many rowdy kids coming through the huge oak doors. 

Chiron leads me up the steps and opens the main door for me to walk through. I was expecting to see something impressive and god-like to go with Greek mythology but all I’m met with is a normal summer camp cabin filled with bunkbeds and kids of all ages. 

“Attention campers,” Chiron yells from beside me gaining the cabin's attention and eliciting a groan to escape my lips, “This is Y/N Thomas, she’s had a hard past few weeks here at camp and I want all of you to show her kindness.” 

I watch as many of the campers give me weary or questionable looks, whilst others look as if my presence is a mere annoyance but after a moment they all turn around and go back to their previous conversations. 

“We’re low on beds at the moment so we have a sleeping bag set up with your things in the corner of the room,” Chiron goes to take his leave but he turns to face me once more, “And Y/N, if you have any more questions please feel free to come to find me. And remember what I said about finding an outlet.”

I stand silently as I watch Chiron exit the cabin, leaving me standing in the entryway by myself. 

“Is it comfortable?” 

A deep voice comes from behind me and my eyebrows scrunch at the odd question. I turn around to make eye contact with a pair of deep brown eyes. The owner of the brown eyes is a boy who appears to be a little older than me. Brown curly hair hangs over his forehead, in a way that many couldn’t pull off without looking like they’d need a haircut, but somehow he makes it work. The boy has long eyelashes and full pink lips. The last thing that catches my attention is the scar that starts from the bottom of his right eye and stops right above his lips. Lips that have now started to curve into a small smirk. Fuck. Im staring. 

“What did you just ask me?”

The boy’s smirk turns into a small smile as he gestures to my hoodie.

“I asked if it is comfortable, you’re sweatshirt,” The boy stops and shrugs his shoulders, “Well technically my sweatshirt.”

I glance down at the grey sweatshirt that covers my torso and a wave of embarrassment flows through me. 

“You’re Alastair’s friend?” 

I ask him even though I already know the answer. 

“Ya, Alastair’s a buddy of mine. He asked to borrow a sweatshirt for one of his patients.”

I stare at the boy for a moment before reaching for the bottom of the sweatshirt and go to lift it realizing this kid probably wants his clothes back and doesn’t want a stranger wearing it. Dread fills me though stopping my movement as I realize that I’m just wearing a tank top underneath this and my bandage would be on show if I were to take the sweatshirt off. 

“Hey, don’t worry about giving it back,” The boy takes the bottom of the sweatshirt out of my hands and lets it drop back into place, “You keep it as long as you need.” 

I stare at the boy and take a fast step away from him.

“Don’t touch me! I don’t even know who you are.”

The boy stares at me for a moment with an inquisitive look as his eyes shift over my face and then he takes a small step backwards. 

“Okay… No touching, got it. My bad,” He stares at me again and smiles, “Luke, my name is Luke Castellan. Counselor of Cabin Eleven. And it is nice to meet you, Y/N Thomas. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood.”

Taglist-

@wannabewolf @ashisabitgay @luvvfromme @potatochip-111

[vnderoos]

how did it end up like this? ✷ george weasley

(gif is not mine, credit to the owner) warnings / language, underage drinking word count / 13.1k

masterlist in bio ↴

THE ATMOSPHERE OF THE GREAT HALL that morning was nothing short of pleasant as Y/N walked through the large doors, her eyes flickering over the smiling faces of the other students. Part of her was happy that something as simple as a quidditch match was enough to get the whole school excited, but the other part of her thought the day couldn't move on any faster. She just wanted to watch Gryffindor hand Ravenclaw their asses on a shiny, silver platter, and there was no doubt in her mind that she'd get to witness it later.

In fact, she was sporting her red and gold sweater to prove it. It wasn't any old quidditch sweater, though. It was one that Molly Weasley had made for her last summer when she broke her arm after Ginny and the boys tried to teach her how to play, deciding she looked better rooting for them on the sidelines instead. She remembered how Molly had been hesitant to present it to her—like a sweater made from the woman's own hands wasn't all she had wanted after seeing the ones she'd made for Fred and George. I thought you could wear it when you cheer on our boys, she'd said, knowing how close the girl was with her twin sons, and Y/N would never forget the beaming smile on her face when she nearly cried at the sight of it. She had worn that sweater with unbeatable pride ever since.

When Y/N approached the Gryffindor table, Harry, Ron, Ginny, and the twins were all wearing their team sweaters and she couldn't help but grin as she slipped onto the bench beside George. "Lovely day so far, isn't it?" she hummed as she sidled up to the boy, her thigh and shoulder pressing into his own, and despite the flip of her stomach and the fluttering of her heart, she blamed it on wanting to be closer to the group as a whole. A few of their eyes flitted to her as she settled in and soft greetings filtered from their mouths at her presence.

George was, by far, the happiest to see her. A dreamy smile spread across his lips as he looked at her, his little heart pattering when her first instinct was to invade his personal space. He didn't mind in the slightest, of course, and to prove it, he slipped his arm behind her and grabbed her hand. "I reckon it'll get better after the match," he replied, totally oblivious, in true Weasley fashion, to the way her cheeks flushed as she intertwined her fingers with his. The gesture was so normal for them that he barely thought anything of it and none of their friends seemed to question it, either.

Fred, who might've looked like his twin save for the shape of his nose and a couple of scars in random places, seemed a lot more invested in the game. "Yeah," he agreed confidently, crossing his arms on the tabletop. "'M sure the Ravenclaws'll soil themselves after we whip 'em on the pitch," he added, a crooked smile settled on his lips and Y/N couldn't help but laugh. "And someone's going to catch the snitch for us tonight, too, eh, Harry?" The older twin jutted his chin out towards the boy, whose dark eyebrows lifted slightly at his name.

Harry's green eyes darted between Y/N and Fred, before he nodded his head. "Oh, yeah, yeah," he said, his expression flickering from surprised to something more certain—more confident. "Cho is a great seeker, but I'm afraid I'm a bit better," he joked, a smile playing on his lips and Ginny scoffed from beside him, throwing a lock of her bright red hair over her shoulder.

"Bit cocky this morning, are we?" Ginny asked teasingly and Y/N could see the way that Harry's pale cheeks prickled with pink. Fred let out a loud laugh. She glanced over at George who fought a small chuckle and she couldn't help but do the same when she realized they had the same thought. She tilted her head down to hide her amusement as George's thumb brushed over the back of her hand, wondering how two people could be so oblivious.

Ron, on the other hand, didn't seem quite as enthused at their exchange as everybody else. "Don't think anyone asked your input," he muttered, his mouth filled with half of his biscuit, and a couple of crumbs fell from his lips as he spoke. Y/N's eyebrows lifted as they fell on the tabletop and she opened her mouth to make a quip about it, but the moment passed and Hermione took it upon herself to swat Ron in the arm. "Ow, what was that—"

In the middle of his moaning, Hermione cut him off with a sharp look. "She's your sister. Be nice, Ronald," she instructed in a motherly tone, before letting her eyes settle on his mouth. It was dusted in pieces of his biscuit and she shook her head at him in disappointment, but annoyance soon took over. "And where are your manners?" she chided.

"Yeah, Ronald. You're lucky mum's not her to wack you with the dishrag, but from the looks of it, you might get a book to the head instead," Ginny piped up again, referring to the dog-earred novel that sat next to Hermione's plate of food, and the group erupted into laughter. Y/N threw her head against George's shoulder, laughing into him, and she could feel the rumble of his chest as he let out his own chortles.

Even Hermione was giggling, but Ron got so flustered, even his ears turned pink. "Oh, shut it, Ginevra," he whined, after swallowing his foot for once. "I hope you fall off your broom during the game," he told her and Ginny hadn't been too far off, because Hermione picked up her book and gave him a good smack in the shoulder. His head whipped to the girl beside him and he gave her an offended look, lifting his hand to rub his shoulder, before he looked at Y/N. "The abuse I get from this one. George is lucky that you're so passive," he muttered and she nearly felt her heart stop in her chest.

The breath felt like it'd gotten sucked right out of her lungs and her eyes widened. She looked over at George when she couldn't find the words to speak for herself and she found his cheeks nearly as red as Ron's had been before. "What's that supposed to mean, Ronnykins?" he asked, making a halfhearted attempt at a silly nickname to keep the mood light and it only partially worked.

Either way, it had bought Y/N enough time to get over her initial shock of the question. "George and I are friends, of course, he's lucky," she hummed. "But you and 'Mione are what, exactly?" she asked, taking pleasure in the way that she directed the spotlight to him instead, and Ron seemed to sink into himself. Y/N and George laughed after that, but he couldn't help but let her words bobble around in his head.

Friends.

—

Sometimes, it was a little scary how good Fred Weasley was at predicting the outcome of quidditch games. It was like the game ran in his blood, and considering how he and George played on the field, maybe it did. He was the sole reason why a Gryffindor win never came as a surprise to Y/N, and this one was no different. When Harry had disappeared beneath the bleachers with Cho Chang, in a race for the snitch, the crowd had fallen silent, waiting with bated breath.

She knew it was impossible, but she liked to think that every time Harry's fingers wrapped around that winged ball, she could feel it in her very soul. When he'd flown out from underneath one of the Ravenclaw stands waving his fist in the air and flashes of gold streaked through his glove, she wasn't the least bit surprised. In fact, she called it instinct.

With Gryffindor already in the lead and the snitch in Harry's fingers, the win was official. Y/N could feel it radiating through her body, chills spreading through her limbs, and through the rest of their house, triumphant uproar filling her ears as soon as the game was called to a close.

Merlin, she loved quidditch. Especially that part, where the whole school would watch in suspense, and then when the snitch was caught, it would be absolute chaos.

As a cheer ripped itself from Y/N's own lungs, loud enough to make her throat raw, and her eyes surveyed the team on their victory lap, looking for her favorite troublemaker, she figured that maybe she just liked the chaos. She stood up on her seat when she spotted his flash of red hair beside his brother, identifying him by the hook in his nose, and she knew he'd seen her when he lifted his hand in a wave. She grinned back at him, flailing her arm in the air, and when he and Fred made their way to her side of the pitch, they shouted her name in passing. She just laughed and shook her head as they flew by.

Y/N took it upon herself to meet the team down on the bottom of the pitch after they'd landed and everyone else had dispersed, heading back to their common rooms to either wallow in the loss or, in Gryffindor's case, relish in that fantastic win.

Harry was the first one she saw when she stepped onto the grassy field, his dark hair matted to his sweaty forehead and his green eyes glittering with the satisfaction of securing the win, and she let out a squeak when they locked eyes. So worked up with pride for her house and her beautifully athletic friends, she couldn't keep herself from skipping up to him excitedly. "Harry," she said firmly, clapping him on the shoulders while he looked at her with a smile. "You, my friend," she paused, pointing a finger at his chest, "are bloody brilliant," she said, lifting that same hand to tweak his nose and he laughed.

Ron, who was standing only a couple of feet away, made his way over, a small laugh spilling from his lips, and Ginny wasn't far behind. "You know, if you weren't so clumsy, I bet you'd make a great captain, Y/N/N," the redhead teased and her eyes darted over to him. His fingers were wrapped around the handle of his broom and he was so sweaty, his robes were clinging to his skin.

Y/N broke out into a smile at the keeper. "Yeah, well, I think we all remember what happened over summer," she said and Ginny chuckled from the side. "See?" She jutted her thumb over towards the girl and locked their elbows together.

Ginny looked over at her with a small shrug. "S'okay. I think we'd all crash and burn if we didn't have you cheering us on every match, anyways," she said, earning nods of agreement from the boys and Y/N rolled her eyes.

"Oh, whatever." She patted Ginny's hand with her own, before she took a look around. "Anyone seen the boys?" she asked, her eyes flitting back to the three and Harry nodded towards them. Fred and George were off to the side a couple of feet, talking with Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson. Fred's broom was propped against his side and his hands were stretched out in front of him, a smile wide on his face as he spun up one of his stories. Y/N let out a huff of amusement. "Well, I'm gonna go congratulate them on the win, but you guys did amazing," she said, sliding her arm out of Ginny's and letting her eyes bounce off of all of them. "See you later." And with that, and a couple of quiet goodbyes, she was off towards the twins.

Y/N could see Angelina smile and nod at her as she ran excitedly towards the group and George spun around to meet her eyes. His red hair was damp with sweat, tucked behind his ears to keep it from falling into his eyes, and his skin glistened with the glow of a good game. She adored post-match George, he was prettier than usual. "Hello, darling," he hummed, making her heart melt in her chest, and he held his arms out to her. "Come to gush over us, have you?" he teased, but she hardly even registered it as she threw her arms around his shoulders. George wasn't even fazed by the impact���as this was something she did after every match, win or lose—and he lifted her up off of the ground, giving her waist a good squeeze before he set her back on her feet.

"Oh, I absolutely did," she said, pulling out of his arms so she could look at the other three, but he managed to keep an arm around her waist. "You all did so good, I'm so proud," she hummed. "You two and Alicia were marvelous. I mean, those last few scores were beautiful," she said, making the girls all bashful. "And Fred—" she started, but George couldn't help but look down at Y/N as she praised them all, warmth spreading through his chest at the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about the game, her words fading out for him.

Y/N was no different than she usually was after they'd won, but he often forgot how endearing she was when she rambled on about something she was passionate about. George curled his fingers slightly and brushed the tips along her side softly, watching her curiously as she went through their plays. Part of him hated that they were so close, because it made the frequent urges to kiss her to much harder to ignore. She was with him all the time and it was all he thought about anymore, even though he knew that just one peck might ruin everything. He was so certain that she thought of him as nothing more than a best friend that he kept it to himself.

Well, himself and Fred.

It was so bad sometimes that Fred would have to smack him to draw him back to reality.

George's train of thought came to a screeching halt when Y/N turned towards him. She always saved him for last, which he didn't mind. In fact, it made him feel more special, because she'd focus all her attention on him, then, and he'd get to walk her back to the common room. "And George—bloody hell—when you saved Alicia from that bludger, I nearly lost my voice. That was so badass," she said.

He could feel his stomach swirling with joy and his cheeks heating up at her words, and he caught Fred wiggling his eyebrows from over Y/N's head. That git, he thought to himself, but he kept his smile for her. "You think?" he asked and she nodded her head quickly. "Well, since we've all got something to celebrate, then," he paused, looking at Fred and the girls with a mischievous grin, "I propose we break out a bit of the Ogden's," he suggested.

Y/N looked up at him with a gaze that made his insides turn to mush. "I would be thoroughly disappointed if you didn't," she hummed, glancing between him and his brother.

Fred laughed, running a hand through his sweaty hair. "Well, that settles it," he said.

—

Hermione watched Y/N throw yet another sweater on her bed, as if she hadn't already emptied her entire trunk onto her mattress, and she let out a sigh. She was already dressed, but Y/N seemed to be having a hard time picking out her own outfit. "Why don't you just wear that green sweater? Not very suiting for a Gryffindor win, but you know George loves you in anything," she stated, walking over to the girl's bed and lifting up a forest green, cable-knitted sweater.

Y/N shot her an incredulous look, still leaning halfway into her trunk, and her lips parted slightly. "What in Godric's name would George have to do with my outfit?" she asked, even though they both knew good and well that she wanted to look nice for the younger twin. It was too bad that she had a hard time admitting it to herself, let alone her friends. Maybe it was because she usually felt like a lost cause with him. She was so far up friendship's ass with George, she really didn't see any hope of climbing out.

"Fine," Hermione sighed, folding the sweater neatly and setting it back on the bed with the rest of Y/N's bunched up clothing. "You're probably going to get hot with the fire and that alcohol in your system, so," she paused, letting her eyes dart from one piece of clothing to another, until she picked out the perfect outfit, "how about you try this on? If you don't like it, we can default to the sweater," she suggested, holding up a pair of ripped, boyfriend jeans and a dark red tank top with lacy detailing. "You could wear it with your sneakers, too, so you're still comfortable," she added.

Y/N got up off of her knees and took in the outfit. She'd always been to self-conscious to throw it on without a shirt underneath or a cardigan, but what was better than wearing it in the comforts of her own common room, where everyone was about to get too plastered to care, anyways? She took the clothes from Hermione, running her fingers over the fabric and she glanced up at the girl. She knew she would probably regret the words that were about to come out of her mouth, but it wasn't like her feelings were ever that much a secret to anyone. "You reckon he'll like it?" she asked hesitantly.

A warm smile spread across Hermione's lips, feeling a bit honored that Y/N had trusted her with somewhat of a confession, and she nodded. "You'll look beautiful, Y/N/N. I'll wait for you on the stairs while you change, then, and we can walk in together, okay?" she asked and Y/N nodded.

Hermione turned to leave, but Y/N stopped her before she could, giving her wrist a gentle squeeze. "Thank you," she said. "I don't know what I'd do without you sometimes," she mumbled and the girl smiled.

"I know," she teased, walking out of the room with a wink and leaving Y/N to get dressed.

The second Hermione left her to her own devices, she cast a quick spell to tidy up her mess of clothes and drop them back in her trunk. After that was settled, she shimmied out of her game-day outfit and pulled on the one Hermione had chosen for her instead. She felt a lot more self-conscious than usual, after she'd been wearing a sweater all day, but she got over it quickly when she glanced in the mirror. She'd done her hair and makeup before she'd looked for an outfit, so she wouldn't have had to worry about it, and looking at herself, now, she knew she'd made a good choice.

A half-smile settled on her lips as she studied herself in the mirror, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, and she turned, looking over her shoulder to check how her backside looked in her jeans. The jeans were snug in all the right places and she couldn't help but hope that her favorite twin might notice, as well. "Oh, yes," she hummed to herself with satisfaction, before she walked over to her nightstand. She slipped a couple of gold rings onto her fingers and popped in a pair of hoops.

Once she was all finished, she made her way out of the room, only to find Hermione waiting on the top step, just like she'd said she'd be. "Bloody hell," Hermione muttered when Y/N made herself known, her lips parting slightly as she took in her outfit.

Y/N's eyebrows lifted at Hermione's reaction and she felt the sudden urge to fold in on herself. She glanced down at herself and brushed her hands over her exposed stomach. "How do I look?" she asked, a sheepish smile spreading across her face.

"Stupid," Hermione hummed and Y/N's eyes widened, "because you ever even worried. You look gorgeous," she complimented and the girl felt her cheeks flush. "C'mon, let's go show you off," she said, grabbing her hand and starting down the stairs.

Y/N could feel her heart hammering in her chest, sudden nervousness prickling underneath her skin, and she almost wanted to turn and hightail it back up that staircase, but she didn't. She let Hermione lead her into the common room, where all the other Gryffindors were already dispersed throughout, talking with their friends or on their way to making new ones. She felt her nerves dissolve when her eyes met George's across the room. He looked like he'd showered since the game, as the dirt and the sweat were long gone, leaving his hair all shiny and fluffy. She had to fight the urge to go over and thread her fingers through it when he smiled at her. She was about to tell Hermione she'd catch up with her later, before the girl pulled her hand away.

She looked at Y/N with bright eyes, glancing at Ron, Harry, and Ginny, who were immersed in conversation by the designated snack table. "I know you probably want to talk to George, but I still wondered if you'd be mad if I went with Ron and Harry?" she asked and Y/N was almost relieved that she'd beat her to the chase.

She shook her head quickly and gestured over to them. "No, not at all, 'Mione," she said, urging her over there. "I'm sure we'll merge with you guys sooner or later, so I'm not worried. Go get him," she finished with a wink, not missing the way that Hermione's cheeks flared. Her mutual feelings with Ron were anything but subtle, so she liked to tease the girl about it with every chance she got, but she knew they'd never act on it until they admitted it to themselves.

Once Hermione mumbled a goodbye and walked away, Y/N's eyes snapped back to George, who'd started making his way over to her as soon as Hermione left. She felt herself smile and she moved to meet him halfway, taking in his outfit as she did. He was wearing a sweater that his mom made for him, a navy one with the letter 'G' stitched in gold on the front, and a pair of jeans. It was simple, but something about it made her heart skip a beat when the distance had been closed between them.

George's free hand, the other occupied by a drink, came to wrap around her waist, pulling her closer to him by the small of her back, and he let out a loud wolf whistle. "Well, don't you look absolutely stunning tonight, darling," he complimented, making a show of brushing her hair out of her face to see her earrings and holding one of her hands up to check out her rings. Usually, he'd be more embarrassed about being so forward, but with the familiar buzz of firewhisky already tingling in his fingers, he didn't really care.

Especially not as Y/N's cheeks turned about as red as her top, and she leaned forward. She wrapped her arms around his torso and buried her face in his sweater, laughing softly in slight embarrassment. "Thank you, Georgie," she said, looking up at him once she felt her cheeks lighten up, and he smiled down at her. "You don't look too shabby yourself," she complimented, plucking at his sweater as she pulled away, and she watched a crooked smile curve onto his lips.

"What d'you mean, Y/N/N?" George hummed teasingly, patting his own cheek. "I always look devilishly handsome," he added and she rolled her eyes up at him. He took it as a win when she didn't explicitly deny it. He set one hand on her bicep and let it trail down to her wrist softly, while he emptied the contents of his cup into his mouth with the other. "Anyways, I'm gonna go refill. Did you want me to grab you a drink?" he asked, and she nodded.

"Sure, I'll wait for you over there," she hummed, pointing to the wall on the other side of the room where George had come from before. Angelina and some of the other chasers were gathered in front of it, as beautiful as ever, and Y/N figured she might say hello.

George nodded at her request. "Be right back," he told her, giving her hand a squeeze, before he slipped away. She found herself missing their close proximity as soon as he left, taking the warmth of his body with him, and she half-wondered if she should just follow him to the drink table. She didn't want to give anyone any ideas about them, though, so she stuck with her original plan and made her way over to the fireplace, where Katie, Alicia, and Angelina were all huddled together.

Alicia was the first to notice her, a bright smile stretching across her pretty, pink mouth, and she tucked a tuft of her chocolate hair behind her ear. "Well, well, well," she hummed, her brown eyes scanning the length of Y/N's body, and she stepped towards her with her hand on her hip. "Somebody looks hot," she drew on with a grin, reaching out to welcome her with a side hug.

Y/N could feel her face get warm again at the comment, as she wasn't used to such attention, and she returned the side hug. "Says you," she retaliated, taking in the black tube top and red, leather skirt that Alicia sported herself. She took in the girl's dark eye makeup and glossy lips, and if she wasn't so into George, she might've had some questions for herself. "You're a total smoke show," she said and the brunette laughed. She pulled away from Alicia and her eyes landed on Katie, in her maroon jumpsuit, and Angelina, with her sparkly, gold, minidress. "Good Godric, you all are," she corrected herself, a beaming smile gracing her face when she took in how pretty her friends were.

"Thank you, Your Hotness," Alicia slurred, her cheeks a little pink from the Ogden's and it finally clicked why she seemed so forward. Y/N laughed and crossed her arms over her chest. "I was disappointed that I didn't get to see you after the game, but I heard ol' George whisked you away," she teased, waggling her eyebrows and eliciting yet another giggle from the girl.

Angelina threw her arm over Y/N's shoulder and leaned into her, while Katie did the same to Alicia. She braced herself against her shoulder, tipping her drink to her lips before speaking. "Yeah, speaking of your little boytoy," Angelina hummed, making Katie almost snort. "Honestly, I don't understand how he's more than three feet away from you, right now, you look so good," she said.

Y/N couldn't help from glancing over her shoulder at that, looking at the refreshment table for George, but she couldn't seem to find him, so she turned back. "Well, he was supposed to be getting me a drink, but I feel like he's taking a bit long," she said, her heart sinking slightly. Sometimes she liked or when they poked fun at her about her relationship with George, because if people noticed, maybe that meant he felt something for her, too. Times like now, though, where she felt like it was impossible for him to look at her as anything other than a sister, not so much. "Plus, it's not really like that between George and I, you know? We're good friends is all," she added, ignoring the way it almost hurt her to admit it.

None of the girls seemed to buy into that, though. Especially not Katie. "Not like that, my arse, Y/N/N," she said. "Friends don't look at each other the way you two do. I mean, the both of you are so clueless, it hurts," she continued, putting her hand over her heart and letting her head lull back as she let out an exaggerated groan.

Alicia nodded, seconding Katie's words. "Honestly. Plus, friends aren't all over each other the way you two are, either," she said. "I mean, I think it might kill him to go a day without holding your hand, or brushing your hair behind your ear, or touching you," she explained and Y/N felt queasy all of the sudden.

They were right. Normal friends didn't look at each other or touch each other in the ways that Y/N and George did, but they weren't just normal friends. They were best friends. George was her moon and stars at this point and she would never, ever hesitate to give him the world if he'd asked it of her, but what happened between them—every glance, every touch, every word—was strictly platonic.

Right?

Y/N didn't have time to respond before a familiar voice piped up from behind her. "Hey, ladies," Fred, she found when she looked over her shoulder, sing-songed as he made his way over to them. His eyes were focused mainly on Angelina, a soft smirk playing on his lips as he drank her in, before he let his eyes flicker between them all. "Mind if I steal our lovely little Y/N away for a bit? I've got matters to discuss with her," he said, winking at Angelina when they locked eyes again, and he watched the girl remove her arm from around Y/N.

"Just bring her back in one piece. We know you've got a habit for blowing things up," Angelina teased.

She nudged Y/N in Fred's direction and he donned a look of mock offense. "I'd never hurt a hair on her pretty head," he said, before letting a grin stretch out onto his lips. Y/N rolled her eyes at his theatrics and stepped closer to him, nodding at him in a silent way of saying she was ready. "Bye, Angie." He flicked his eyebrows at her in farewell, waiting for her to give him a flirty wave off, before he followed Y/N.

She stopped when they were out of the girls' earshots and she rested her back against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest as she looked over at Fred. "Am I in trouble, Freddie?" she asked in a teasing tone.

Fred looked down as her words pulled a quiet chuckle from his mouth. He placed his forearm on the wall above their heads as he settled in next her, leaning against it so he could just face her instead of leaning his back on the wall like she was. "Well, dear Y/N, that depends on how you look at it," he told her and she raised her eyebrows in question. He leaned forward as if to be more secretive. "I'm sure you'd be happy to know Georgie's not taken his eyes off of you since you walked in," he explained in a whisper, and she felt her cheeks turn pink.

Fred pulled away as she blushed, laughing to himself. She lifted one of her hands to her cheek, feeling how warm it was beneath her fingertips. "Shut up, you git. That was mean," she tried to hiss, but a laugh ultimately bubbled out of her lips.

He shrugged his shoulders and took a drink from his cup, his signature smirk still lingering on his face. "I wasn't teasing you that time, but whether you believe me or not is up to you. I wanted to talk to you about something else, anyways," he said, moving on from the topic of his brother. He took his hand off the wall and he shifted his weight, something near to nerves settling in his stomach. "Look, I'm sure you've picked up on how I feel about Angelina, yeah?" he asked.

"No." Y/N pretended to look surprised, letting her jaw drop as she let out a dramatic gasp. She got her bit of fun out of the way before Fred shot her a look and she cut it out. "I have," she admitted, on a more serious note, with a small shrug.

He nodded once. "Well, I wanted to make a move tonight and I think you should be the one to help me."

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows at that, tucking her hands into her back pockets. "And how do you want me to do that?" She asked and Fred's face lit up as he explained his plan. "Well, you'll have to get me a drink or two first."

"That, I can manage," he hummed, already holding the rest of his out for her.

—

George had just finished pouring himself and Y/N new cups of firewhisky when a group of other Gryffindors rushed to the table for the same reason. Feeling almost lucky that he'd finished when he did, he lifted their cups up off of the tabletop and maneuvered himself around them. His eyes trailed along the wall where she said she'd be at, making sure he could pick her out in the crowd, and his heart nearly fluttered out of his chest when he did.

Y/N was standing in front of the fireplace and she looked enchanting, even with Angelina Johnson hanging off of her shoulder. Her hair fell in pin straight sheets over her bare shoulders and the fire behind her created an outline of golden light behind her. If George had been any drunker, he might've mistaken her for an angel, honestly. He watched her mouth break out into a smile, a laugh that he couldn't hear from so far away bubbling from her lips, and he was about to make his way over to her, when Lee Jordan stepped in front of him.

"Georgie, my man," Lee said, beaming as he held up two shot glasses filled with a clear liquid. "Let's knock back a quick one," he suggested, holding one of them out to the redhead.

George was almost disappointed by his offer, letting out a sigh. He'd only talked to Y/N for a minute or two before he'd left her earlier, and right now, he was more focused on getting back to her than getting sloshed. "Lee, I'm sorry, but I was just about to—" he cut himself off when his eyes flickered back to Y/N and she wasn't there anymore. His eyebrows furrowed quickly, wondering where she'd gone so quickly, before his eyes wandered further down the wall and his stomach dropped. Her back was leaned against the wall while Fred, his own brother, stood next to her with his hand propped over their heads. He was whispering something in her ear, and George just knew he wouldn't like it when he saw how pink her cheeks got. Hot jealousy bubbled up inside of his chest and his eyes flickered back to Lee. "You know what, yeah. Let's do it," he hummed, repositioning the cups so he was holding them by the rims in one hand.

"That's what I'm talking about," Lee grinned and he held up one of the shot glasses, which George took more than eagerly, now. "On three?" he questioned and George nodded. "Right. One. Two," he counted, but in the place of 'three', he and George threw back their shots and swallowed them.

The liquid was bitter as it trailed down George's throat, but he knew the taste of vodka well enough to not ask Lee what it was. He'd had it so many times, he'd hardly flinched, either. "Here, Lee. Thanks," he hummed, passing the boy his glass back, and Lee nodded. George was about to excuse himself and walk over to Fred and Y/N. What he'd say, he wasn't really sure, but he didn't get the chance to think about it before his thoughts were interrupted.

"Alright, alright," a familiar, feminine voice shouted at the top of their lungs, quieting the entire common room in a matter of seconds. His eyes flickered to the center of the room where his very own Y/N stood on top of a table, with a drink he hadn't seen her with before and her hands held up in the air. He wanted to be angry at her, for talking with his brother over him, but she wasn't with him, now, so maybe he'd just chalk it up to bad timing on his end. She looked really beautiful, though, with her cheeks flushed because all the attention had shifted to her and her hair tied back in a low pony tail, something she'd probably done when he took his shot. "Who's up for some spin the bottle?" she yelled, before the common room erupted into roars.

George laughed to himself and he started towards her.

Things were about to get interesting.

-

At this point in the evening, the Gryffindor common room and everyone in it had been divided into two groups: those who were going to play spin the bottle, and those who wanted to keep partying on their own. Y/N, George, and all of their friends—with a couple of others sprinkled into the mix—had gathered on the half of the room intent on participating, all sat on the carpet in a tight circle. Everyone's knees were brushing against each other, all their cheeks flushed pink from the firewhisky, and excited smiles sat on all of their faces. "I'm going to assume that everyone knows how to play," Fred said as he placed an empty bottle of Ogden's Old in the center of the circle, having taken it upon himself to lead the pack after Y/N pretended the entire thing was her idea. Why he couldn't have just suggested it himself was beyond her.

George—who sat on the opposite side of the circle from Y/N, much to his dismay—chuckled and he leaned back onto the palms of his hands. "I'm sure if they don't, they'll pick it up quick," he hummed, and murmurs of agreement spread around the circle. The rules of the game were simple, really. Someone would the chain and spin the bottle, share a kiss with whoever it landed on, and then, the person they kissed would spin the bottle and the cycle would continue. As he waited for Fred to reclaim his spot in the circle, he knew exactly who he wanted his bottle to land on, but he wouldn't admit it for anything. "Who's first, then?" he asked, his eyes flitting around everyone, and his eyes locked with Y/N's for a moment. His heart melted when she flushed him that kind smile of hers and he managed one back.

Y/N couldn't help but be slightly disappointed that George had never returned with her drink earlier, as that meant her time with him had been cut short. She'd been hoping Fred's game might've changed that, but when she'd ended up sitting across from him, her hopes had dwindled. They still weren't too high, because the odds of her spin landing on him were about one in thirteen.

"I think Y/N/N should be the first to go, since this was her idea," Fred chimed from her left. He was lucky that Dean and Neville were positioned between the two of them or she probably would've punched him on the leg. Since she couldn't reach him from where she was sitting, she settled for a glare instead. He only smiled all-but-innocently in return. She had an inkling that this wasn't just about him and Angelina, after all.

Seamus, who was seated on her right, nodded. "It only seems fair, yeah?" he seconded. If only Y/N had known him better, because she wanted to punch him, too.

When the rest of the Gryffindors came to the same decision, Y/N sighed, deciding to give in. "Fine, if you all insist," she said and she reached up to tuck her framing strands of hair behind her ears. She leaned forward and reached into the middle of the circle, trying her hardest not to just stare straight up at George like she was dying to do, and she gave the bottle a good whirl. The second she did, her heart felt like it might jump out of her chest, but when she straightened up again, she tried to keep her cool. Part of her wanted for the bottle to land on George, so she could get the thought of kissing him out of her head, finally, but the other part of her prayed it didn't.

Who knew what a kiss could do to a friendship like theirs?

The group fell silent when the bottle started to slow down and Y/N knew that she wasn't the only one holding her breath. It wasn't until the neck passed George and land on Harry, who sat a few people down from him, did she feel like she could breathe again. Relief washed over her at the fact that whatever she had with George was preserved for a little bit longer, and also because she wouldn't have to kiss anyone too eager.

Harry was the happy medium: cute, respectful, and uncomplicated.

A couple of their friends oohed at the outcome and Y/N couldn't help but grin at the green-eyed boy. "Fancy a peck, Potter?" she asked, ignoring the feeling of George's eyes on her, and she watched as Harry nodded. The corners of his mouth were pulled up in an amused smile and he pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. Y/N stood up and made her way over to him, before leaning down. She placed her hands on either sides of the Chosen One's face. She quirked her eyebrows up as if to ask if he was ready and he nodded once in response. With that, she pressed a small kiss to his lips. It was short, sweet, and she laughed softly when it was over. "We good?" she questioned, pulling her hands away.

Harry laughed. "We're brilliant," he hummed, before Y/N returned to her spot. He was next to spin the bottle. George hardly even registered it when Harry kissed Alicia next, as he still felt nauseous from watching Y/N kiss someone else. He knew that it was just a silly game amongst friends and that he really had no say in who she kissed or didn't kiss, but it didn't change the fact that it bothered him a little. Y/N, on the other hand, couldn't help but smile when Alicia spun next and wound up kissing Neville. The look on his round face after she'd sat back down beside Ron was just adorable. She swore that girl had left him with stars in his eyes. It was even more precious when Neville's turn landed him a kiss with Hermione.

It was less cute, though, when Hermione spin the bottle and it stopped right on George. The smile that Y/N had been sporting seemed to fall right off of her face, dropping to her feet, along with her stomach. Hermione glanced over at her and smiled awkwardly, knitting her eyebrows together in a way that showed her guilt, but Y/N waved it off. It was just a game. Even so, Y/N wouldn't deny the relief she felt when Hermione chose to kiss him on the cheek, instead.

When it was George's turn to step up, all eyes were on him, including Y/N's. Her mouth felt dry as she watched him from across the circle, his long fingers grabbing the empty bottle, and she swallowed thickly when his eyes flickered to hers. His lips quirked up in a half-smile and he winked at her as he twirled the bottle. She watched in anticipation as it circled around, choosing its next victim, and she was already preparing herself to watch George kiss someone like Alicia when the bottle stopped on the last person she expected.

Her.

Y/N's eyes widened, locked on that glass bottle, and the entire circle either laughed, cheered, or wolf-whistled. No fucking way, she thought to herself as her eyes snapped up to meet George's, which were blown just as wide. This was exactly the kind of opportunity that she'd been waiting for for years, now, but she felt sick to her stomach about it. She had it tangled in her thoughts that this singular moment would make or break them. She took a deep breath as George stood up, reminding herself that it was just a game, but either way, she knew she couldn't have her first kiss with him sitting down. She stood up, too, making her way to the center of the circle and meeting him halfway, her cheeks hot under the feeling of all eyes on her. She wished she'd had more to drink.

Something about George seemed off when she stepped in front of him. He wasn't passed around the school or anything, but she was aware enough to know he'd kissed girls before, but he seemed different, now. He didn't seem to know where to put his hands like he usually did and he swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he did. "We don't have to do this if it makes you uncomfortable," he said to her, his eyes searching her own for anything that could give him an out.

It wasn't like he didn't want to kiss Y/N, because Merlin, did he, but after mulling it over in his head for months on end, he didn't want to throw their first one away in a drunken state. He'd always pictured it special, maybe on a day when he finally got the courage to take her to Hogsmeade. He'd take her to a bookstore, because he knew how much she liked to read, and he'd tell her how beautiful she looked when she could take her eyes off the shelves, and when she got all flustered, he'd lean in and kiss her softly. He'd had it all planned out. He'd been mistaken earlier, he figured, when he'd thought that he wanted his turn to be with Y/N, because now that it was, he was regretting joining this game entirely.

Y/N looked up at him with those big eyes that made his insides bubble and she furrowed her eyebrows up at him. "It doesn't make me uncomfortable," she promised, and to prove it, she reached out and placed her hands on either side of his neck, letting her thumbs rest on his cheeks. He resisted the urge to lean into her touch. "So, you ready to kiss me, Weasley?" she questioned, her words betraying her thoughts, and she flashed him a grin.

All of her hopefulness that, maybe, the kiss wouldn't ruin everything, broke away when George hesitated, shaking his head softly. Her smile faltered and her chest clenched. "Not really," he confessed, pouring salt in the wound.

Ouch. She forced a small laugh, ignoring the way a feeling of hurt splintered through her body. and she tilted her head up at him. "It's just a game, right? It doesn't have to mean anything," she said, hoping to coax him into something quick, because it'd be much more embarrassing if he refused to kiss her in front of all of their friends, who were so adamant on the fact that they were in love with each other. It was pretty far-fetched and awfully one-sided, apparently.

Unbeknownst to her, George was screaming at himself inside his head. He knew it was just a game, he knew it didn't have to mean anything, but bloody hell, he wanted it to. He wanted it to mean something. Y/N wasn't the kind of girl you could just kiss and forget about it. If he kissed her he'd be thinking about it until his hair turned gray. "No, Y/N/N, it doesn't feel right," he whispered, hoping she would pick up on the emotion in his voice, but he knew he'd been asking too much when he saw the look that flashed across her face. He felt awful.

So did she, but for entirely different reasons. "Why?" she whispered, tears pricking in the back of her eyes, but she swallowed the knot in her throat, because how she knew how embarrassing it would be if she cried and he didn't kiss her. "Is it just me?" she asked, her mind suddenly racing. "Is there something wrong with me, I—"

She started in on a ramble and George didn't like where it was headed, because it wasn't her. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her, it was just him. It was all in his head. He shook his head at her quickly to cut her off. "No, no, I just—" He sighed. "I don't want it like this," he confessed, a bit louder than he intended to and Y/N's eyes widened.

"What?"

George would've given anything to just stop the game at that point. He was digging a hole for himself that was gonna be real hard to climb out of. "No, I just meant—" Fucking hell. "I—"

He couldn't even finish. Y/N's hands were starting to pull themselves off of his face slightly, her fingertips the only parts of her touching him, now. Honestly, she thought she might be sick. "George, what does that mean?" she asked, not sure if he'd confirmed what everyone had been saying about them all along or if it was just freakishly bad wording.

Too bad he didn't help much with figuring it out. Instead, George shook his head at her. "It doesn't mean anything," he said. "Let's just get on with it."

Before she had a chance to say anything else, George slipped his hand over her cheek, sliding his fingertips into her hair, and he crashed his lips onto hers. When she felt the warmth of his mouth, she almost felt the world stop turning on its axis, and her hands travelled down to his chest, balling up around the fabric of his sweater as she kissed him back. Y/N's heart was soaring as George tilted her head, finding it easier to kiss her at an angle so their noses weren't brushing together. George kissed her with all the passion he could muster up, his stomach flipping as he did, because if this was going to be the first and last time he kissed her, he needed it to be good. He needed to leave her mind reeling.

A couple more seconds passed, before he forced himself to pull away. It took everything in her to keep from pulling him back in for another; their kiss had lasted the longest, anyways. She managed a small smile up at him, which he struggled to return, before they both walked back to their spots on opposite sides of the circle.

Y/N could hardly breathe as she replayed the kiss over in her head again, choosing to pass her next turn to Ginny, because the girl hadn't gone yet and she didn't think she could stomach another kiss with anyone, especially not after the one she'd just had with George. Her heart was still hammering in her ears and she felt like she was floating, still feeling the ghost of his hands in her hair, and even though she'd denied it for so long, she couldn't anymore. She was absolutely in love with that boy.

But when his earlier words settled in, she snapped out of her trance.

It doesn't mean anything.

Had he meant the kiss?

George wasn't doing much better on his side of the circle. In fact, he almost faked an illness to get out of the next round, knowing he'd be absolutely crushed if he had to watch her kiss someone else after that. The relief he'd felt when she passed it off to Ginny was insane. He didn't know where his relationship with Y/N would go from there, though. It was clear to him now that he was head over heels for her—he always had been, really—but the fact that he still couldn't get her off of his mind after a kiss just set it all in stone. He glanced up at her from across the group, his heart stuttering in his chest when he found her already looking. She flashed him that pretty smile and he panicked, averting her gaze, and he almost wanted to smack himself.

Merlin, he didn't know how he was ever gonna face her again when all he could think about was her lips.

—

When Y/N woke up the next morning, she didn't know what she expected the day would bring, but it certainly wasn't Fred sitting in the seat beside hers in Transfiguration. She had walked into the room, ready to smile at George and start talking about their mornings like they usually did, but she felt a bit nervous when she saw that he'd switched places with his brother instead. George was on the other side of the classroom, partnered with Lee Jordan for the day. He watched her as she came in, but before she could even wave, he looked away.

She furrowed her eyebrows, ignoring the sinking feeling in her stomach, as she walked up to her desk, earning a close-mouthed smile from Fred as she sat her bags down. "Morning. How's the head?" he asked, tapping his index finger to the side of his head and she let out a huff of amusement.

Y/N took her seat next to him and she rested her elbow on the tabletop. "Fine, I didn't drink enough for a hangover," she told him and he nodded once, flicking his quill and watching it circle around his ink pot mindlessly. "Not that complaining, but how come you're not in your normal seat today?" she asked, glancing over at George. He was already looking at her from across the room, his lips set in a slight frown, and she tried to smile at him, but his eyes flickered to his paper before she got the chance. What was with him this morning?

Fred swallowed. "Not sure," he said, though she got the feeling that he was holding back on her. "He said he and Lee were talking last night and it felt like they haven't seen each other in a bit. Wanted to trade for the day," he elaborated and she nodded.

For her sake, she hoped that what he was saying was true, but as they progressed through the day and George had switched his seat in all of the classes they had together, her hopes were dwindling. It was weird not having him there to make her laugh when the lectures got too serious, but Fred was a close second for the time being. He was just as skilled in the art of comedic relief, but he was a lot less dedicated to his assignments than George was. He would nudge Y/N with his knee and ask her for the answer so often, she finally just angled her parchment towards him.

It wasn't to say that she hadn't enjoyed her time with the oldest twin, but by the end of the day, she was more than ready to be back with George the next morning.

It was just her luck, though, that she wound up with Fred the next day, too.

And the next.

And the entire next week, actually.

It wasn't until Y/N was sitting in the library with Hermione and Ginny that she decided that she'd had enough of it. "I just don't understand what his deal is. Like we kissed, I was there, but there's no need for him to keep tiptoeing around me, you know?" she ranted, tearing her eyes away from her open textbook and leaning back in her chair. "I mean, he barely looked at me after it happened and he's barely looked at me since, and I feel weird. It just doesn't feel right to not be next to him all the time," she continued, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear and letting out a sigh. "Anyways, what was the question again?" she asked, after taking in Hermione's amused smile and Ginny's look of disgust.

"It was just about the Summoning Charm, but I think we need to wait on it," Hermione answered through a small laugh. "I thought you said you didn't mind the time away from him," she hummed, dipping her quill back into her ink pot.

Y/N let out a sigh and she crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, I didn't, when I thought it was for a day," she explained, her mind trailing back to that first moment of truth in Transfiguration. "He wanted to spend time with Lee and I knew it would've been selfish to act like I was his only friend, so I was fine with it, but now, he's not treating me like I'm his friend at all," she continued, emotion churning in her stomach at the fact that she hadn't spoken to him in a week and a half. Every time she tried, he just walked away before she got to him or made up an excuse to leave. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't the least bit hurt by it.

"No offense, but what made you think you'd just go back to being friends after that night?" Ginny asked, sticking a ribbon in her textbook to mark the page and flipping it shut. The girl leaned forward, resting her chin in the palm of her hand.

Her eyes widened at the question. "I mean, it was a only a kiss."

Ginny shot her a look. "You're a right liar," she singsonged, a smirk playing on her lips, and she glanced at Hermione, who wore a similar smile. "I think you forget we were there, too. Witnessed the whole thing, actually," she said, scrunching her nose up a bit as she did, and Hermione let out a laugh. "I was a bit worried you'd rip his jumper off in front of us, if I'm being honest," she teased.

Y/N felt her face go hot and her jaw dropped. "I would not have ripped his—"

She was cut off when Ginny shot up in her seat. "Look at your face!" she whisper-yelled, in order to keep Madam Pince's attention off of them, and she pointed her finger. Her cheeks only darkened at that. "You're mad if you think your kiss was friendly. It was the most heated one in that whole game." Maybe there was a bit of truth to her words, because as she recalled, the kisses following were nothing but light-hearted pecks.

"She's got a point," Hermione joined in. "You've been in love with each other for years. I just know you poured months worth of feelings into that kiss," she said.

Y/N could feel her heart fluttering inside of her chest as they spoke and she replayed her kiss with George inside of her head. The way she'd grabbed onto his sweater and pulled him closer to her, the way his hands had been tangled in her hair, the way her toes had curled, and the way her stomach had done summersaults made so much more sense now. He'd kissed her with so much emotion, so much passion, and she'd kissed him back with equal need, just wanting him to know how much she loved him without saying the words, but maybe that's why it was bothering her so much to be apart from him now.

Because he hadn't picked up on it.

"Well, you've seen him," she said. "He's kissed girls before, so what makes me any different? Plus, he's a passionate person, maybe that's all it was," she protested, the feeling that she'd fucked everything up still swimming in her bloodstream.

The girls shot her a look. "You're different because he cares about you," Hermione said, her tone softer now. Y/N looked down at her words, her head spinning slightly as she wondered whether or not it was true, and the young witch placed a hand on top of hers. "You don't see the way he looks at you when you're not paying attention, or how he talks about you when you're not around. He's so taken with you," she explained.

Y/N wanted nothing more than to believe her, but she'd wanted this—wanted him—for so long that it seemed too good to be true. She looked up from her hand, ready to rebut her words, but Ginny stepped in before she could. "If only you could see him on holiday when you're at your parents'. Absolutely hopeless, that one," she explained, but she couldn't help the small smile tugging at her lips. "'Y/N loves this', 'Y/N would like that', and 'I wish Y/N was here'. Oh, and I can't forget my favorite: 'Where's the owl, I've got to write to Y/N', while he's barreling over Ron and Percy in the kitchen. It's quite funny," she explained.

Y/N's heart pattered quickly and she felt a little breathless as Ginny talked about how George was at home. "He does all that?" she asked quietly, chills spreading through her body.

Ginny nodded. "Mum can't wait until you two get together. She's dying to have another girl in the family," she explained, and Y/N couldn't help but smile. She was starting to think that even though George had always felt so far out of her reach...

Maybe he wasn't.

—

George and his possible feelings for her had stayed on Y/N's mind through the rest of her study session with the girls, and as she'd sat in the dining hall that night for dinner, she still hadn't been able to get him out of her head. She'd picked at her food with her golden fork absentmindedly, rolling a potato back and forth across her plate, and she'd barely eaten anything by the time everyone was heading back to their common rooms.

"I was thinking we'd get Snape again," Fred said as he walked with her back to the Gryffindor tower, talking to her about who he planned to slime next. She loved the guy, really, but she'd spent almost all of her time with him in the last week and a half. She'd sat with him in all of their classes, hung out with him during their free period, and he'd even taken to eating all three meals of the day with her. She knew that he was just trying to help, to take her mind off of his brother for the time being, but with the whole identical twin thing, it really just made her miss George even more.

Fred was great, but he wasn't the same. Fred wouldn't hug her so tight that all of her doubts would dissolve in thin air, or keep a protective arm around her at all times, or kiss her forehead. He wouldn't sneak into her dorm for a late night chat on her mattress, or talk about what his future would be like with her, or make her feel special like George did.

In fact, she was quite sure that Fred didn't even know her favorite color.

Y/N could still hear Fred talking, rambling on about his strategy to set up his bucket in a place where Snape walked through frequently, but she was hardly listening. She was too busy wrapped up in her thoughts, wondering why George had just completely shut her out. In the beginning, he would at least send her a longing glance or two, but now she got nothing.

It just didn't make sense, especially not after what Ginny had told her earlier.

"Does George love me?" she asked all of the sudden, the words leaving her lips before she truly had the chance to process them, and she cut Fred off mid sentence.

He nearly tripped over his own two feet, before he looked over at her and laughed softly. "Does George, my idiot brother, love you, the girl he spends all his bloody time with?" he asked, making pointing gestures with his hands and furrowing his eyebrows slightly. She nodded at him, pressing her lips into a thin line. "Are you blind? 'Course he loves you," he assured her like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and it could've been, honestly. He was a bit surprised that she'd even asked at all, but then again, he forgot how clueless she was on her own.

Y/N let out a sigh at Fred's answer, because it wasn't worded the way she'd wanted it to be, not that she knew what that was, but it just didn't satisfy her. "No," she groaned, running a frustrated hand through her hair as they walked. "I mean, is he in love with me?" she asked, looking over at him with pleading eyes.

Fred shot her a look, before he nodded once. "Yeah," he hummed with no hesitation and she felt her heart rate pick up. "I know what you meant," he elaborated, and she blinked at him, forcing her gaze to where they were walking again

"Really?" she asked quietly, almost breathlessly, and Fred nodded again. "Ginny wasn't lying?"

"Guess not," the redhead hummed, scratching the back of his neck. "I mean, everyone knows. We've known you two were mad for each other for a while now. I've got bets on when you're getting together," he confessed, a teasing tone laced in his voice, and her eyes widened. Had she really had him this whole time? She wanted to hang her head against the wall for being so oblivious. If she had known sooner, she might've done something about it.

It might've been too late, now, though.

She'd gone and muddied everything up.

Y/N swallowed thickly. "If that's true, why's he been ignoring me lately?" she asked.

Fred looked over at her with tender eyes and a small smile. He'd been expecting her to ask that for a while now, but it was about time. "Look," he started as they started up the stairs in the corridor. "George isn't so strong and courageous like me, you know," he started, not seriously, but it still made her roll her eyes. "He's nervous and soft-hearted, which I'm sure you've picked up on." She definitely had. He was definitely a gentler force than Fred, like a soft rain to his brother's thunderstorm. "He gets his feelings hurt easier, he overthinks things, and he's so very oblivious, love. Sometimes you just need to tell him what's on your mind straight up," he said as he led her up to the portrait of the Fat Lady. He muttered the password to her and she swung open for them. "This is one of those times."

She wasn't really sure what Fred had meant by all of that. All she'd done was kiss George in the midst of a stupid, teenage game, she didn't understand how she might've hurt his feelings or made him feel like she didn't want to be around him, because that was all she wanted. All the time, too. She nodded her head, regardless, and followed the boy through the portrait hole. "So, what am I supposed to do?" she asked as they walked further into the common room. She was about to get her answer from Fred when someone slammed a book shut. Her eyes flickered to the couch in front of the fireplace where George seemed to have been studying.

George had been there all night, waiting for her to come back from dinner. He'd decided that morning that he was sick of wallowing in his thoughts about what had happened all those days ago and he missed talking to her, missed being with her. It'd been painful for him to watch her spend all of her time with his brother instead of him, like it should've been, especially when they'd looked so cozy together at the party, but as he watched them walk in together, her cheeks just as pink as they had been that night, irrational anger spread through his body.

He'd closed his textbook loudly and stood up, no longer in the mood to speak to her, or Fred, for that matter.

Y/N's eyebrows furrowed and her lips parted as George stormed past in a fit of anger, her protests lost on her tongue, and she swiveled back towards Fred. She'd never seen George like that, and she wanted to call after him, but she couldn't find the words so quickly, and she didn't want to just abandon Fred, but—

He cut her thoughts short with a nod towards the portrait hole as George disappeared through it. "Go. Tell him how you feel," he encouraged her, sending a sudden wave of confidence through her body. It spread through her nerves and left goosebumps in its wake, and she nodded.

Y/N flashed Fred a small smile, before she took off after George.

—

Y/N wasn't quite sure how George had gotten so far in such little time—she'd chalk it up to his long legs, maybe—but when she found him, he was pacing back and forth in an empty corridor a few floors beneath the tower, carding his fingers through his red hair as he immersed himself in his thoughts. He hardly even noticed she was there until she stepped a bit closer to him. "What the hell is your problem, George Weasley?" she started, the confidence that had been building up when she'd come after him having turned into pent-up annoyance.

His eyes shot up from the floor and he rolled his eyes when he registered that it was her. "You know what?" he asked breathlessly, more to himself than her, and he let out a bitter laugh. "You're my bloody problem, Y/N," he snapped and it was like a lash from a whip.

She flinched at his words, feeling the sting despite the distance between them, and all of that fire she'd had a moment ago dissipated. In all of the time that she'd known him, he had never spoken to her like that, even when he was angry at her, he'd never called her the problem. He'd never jabbed at her like that. Her eyebrows furrowed and her chest clenched as she looked at him, his face contorted in exasperation. "I'm your problem?" she asked, her surprise masking the hurt. "I don't even know what I did to you," she continued, acutely aware of how hard her heart was racing and how knotted up her stomach felt.

George wasn't doing much better. He was quick to shove the sleeves of his uniform up to his elbows in frustration, bringing his hands to his tie and loosening it up, because he felt so warm all of the sudden. He knew he was being stupid and overreacting at something that probably wasn't even happening, but he'd planted this seed in his own head at the party and he couldn't get it out. He'd made a mistake switching seats with Fred that day, because seeing his twin make her laugh like he did stung. It was like he'd provided her with his own bloody replacement. He hated it.

It wasn't her fault that Fred inevitably became everyone's favorite after some measure of time, but he figured that for Y/N, maybe it'd been the couple of years she'd favored George. "I haven't stopped thinking about it, Y/N, okay?" he blurted, running his hands up his face and through his hair, and he could see the look of blatant confusion on her face. She was about to open her mouth and ask him what he meant, but he beat her to it. "The kiss," he explained, "because I felt something and I thought you did, too, but then, I'd see you with Fred and I wouldn't know what to tell myself," he confessed and it made her head spin.

Y/N's eyes widened at his words and she practically gaped at him. "Wait, Fred?" she asked, almost wondering if she'd heard him right, because she hadn't even realized that Fred was a factor in this. George nodded once and she sputtered out a laugh in disbelief. "Hold on, what makes you think Fred—"

"You've been ignoring me for him for days!"

Oh, he did not.

She reeled back in disbelief, steadying herself against the side of the corridor. "Me?" she repeated, pointing to her chest. "Don't you dare try to put this on me when it was your idea to swap places with him in the first place! You've been avoiding me, you idiot," she yelled, her voice echoing through the hallway, and she would've been surprised that Filch hadn't dragged them away if she wasn't so worked up.

"How is it all my fault when you've barely reached out?" George retaliated, taking a few steps closer to her, and she wanted to pull her hair out.

"I'm not going to waste my time chasing after someone who can't stand to be near me," she explained, "And I didn't know how you expected me to fix this between us, okay?" she said, her voice cracking over the question and she sighed. She tilted her chin up so she could blink back tears, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. "I'm sorry, George," she added, all the anger in her voice having fallen away. She didn't want to fight with him anymore, she just wanted things to go back to normal, and if that meant taking the blame for the entire situation, then so be it.

George felt his heart sink at that, his eyebrows knitting together. "Wait, so you do want to be with Fred?" he asked, the volume having lowered in his voice. She shot him a look of disgust, quickly shutting down his theory about his brother. "For what, then? Kissing me? I don't understand," he continued, his stomach twisting as he spoke, because he hoped it wasn't that, either.

Y/N pushed herself off of the wall slightly, reaching out to take one of his hands in hers. Her heart took flight inside of her chest at the feeling, as it was the first time she'd touched him in what felt like forever. "What? No, I'll never be sorry for kissing you, it's just," she paused, glancing down at the space between his shoes and hers, "Ginny told me you loved me and I just— I was going to try George, I swear, but then you freaked and ran out and—" she cut herself off, pulling her hand back from his and shoving it into her hair. "I should've tried harder, I guess, and maybe—"

George hardly heard anything after he'd heard that Ginny ratted him out. With wide eyes, he couldn't help but ask, "She told you?" His throat moved as he swallowed thickly. "Godric, I'm gonna—"

"No, it's a good thing," she said quickly, pulling her hand out of her hair and holding it out in front of her almost defensively. "I'm just sorry for being so bloody clueless and too worried that you wouldn't feel the same way I did to not tell you," she confessed, and George pinched his arm behind his back to make sure he wasn't dreaming (he wasn't). "And if you're still worried about Fred, I don't care about him, okay?" she blurted, before she realized how it sounded, and her eyes widened. She covered her mouth briefly. "Okay, I do, but not like I care about you, I mean, Fred isn't even an option. Merlin, nobody else is even an option, because it's you, George. I..." she trailed off, staring up at him in search of any sign that she shouldn't say it, that she shouldn't tell him, but all she found was a look of anticipation, and she couldn't help but smile. "I love you," she whispered, tears prickling in the spaces behind her eyes, and she reached out to grab the hem of his sweater.

George didn't say anything immediately, or even for the next minute. He just took a step forward and looked at her, his mouth opening and closing like a fish until he figured out what he wanted to say. "So, that's it, then?" he hummed after a while and she nodded. "You love me?" She nodded again and he smiled slightly, his heart feeling like it might explode. "I reckon I still need you to prove it," he whispered, taking another step closer to her and forcing her to take one backwards, her shoulders pressing against the wall.

She couldn't help but shake her head up at him as he slid one of his arms around her waist, her hands reaching up to cup his cheeks. His skin was warm in her palms and he leaned into her touch, his eyelids fluttering shut, and she brushed her thumbs over a spray of freckles. "I really do love you, Georgie," she whispered and his breath hitched in his throat. With that, Y/N pulled him down to press a kiss against his mouth and this kiss was less eager than the last. There was no question that this wouldn't be their final kiss together, so there was no rush.

George's lips were soft and his kiss was slow, and sweet, drawing her in with every peck. He leaned her back against the wall softly, tilting his head as his mouth slanted over her own, and he braced his arm on the wall above her. After he let her slide her fingers into his hair and thread them through it for a bit, he pulled away gently, his brown eyes staring into her own, and he smiled.

"I love you, too, darling."

↴

author's note / this was a long one, but i think it was worth it. tag list in the comments! :)

[taggingtim]

Why I love Pre-Boot Tim Drake and why the Reboot has ruined him

I love Tim Drake.  He is my favorite comic book character of all time.  I’ve been really upset the past few days about what DC has been doing with him lately, and I thought it would be cathartic for me to write something up about it.  (No, this isn’t a rant about Tim being bi/gay; it’s a much larger problem than that. But I’ll get to that in a bit.) Bear with me for a bit of history, first.

When I was a kid I loved the Batman Animated Series.  I know this will lose me a lot of internet cred, but I always preferred the fourth season. In particular, I loved Tim Drake. He was fun and funny and I absolutely adored him.  I used to beg my mom to take me to the mall so I could buy issues of Gotham Adventures. For my birthday one year my parents got me a subscription to the comic, and I was blown away by the idea that I could have comics MAILED to my HOUSE.

Around middle school I started collecting Marvel comics, mostly X-men stuff.  I loved them, but when I started college I quit the hobby for financial reasons.

 Fast forward a few years, and I felt I was financially stable enough to start buying comics again. Rather than going back to Marvel, I decided to give Batman comics a chance.  I had no idea where to start, and when I found out my beloved Tim had his own comic series, I thought it was a perfect entry point into the Batman universe. I bought the complete series from a local comic shop and dove in.

 Tim’s Robin series was exactly what I was looking for in a comic.  He was very different from little Timmy Todd from BtAS, but I loved him. I built the rest of my comic collection around him, grabbing up every book that he was featured in, from Young Justice to Teen Titans to Batman, Detective Comics, Nightwing, Red Robin, and many others.  I have random books from series like The Demon just because Tim was in them.

 So why did I like Tim so much?  What about this character made me so excited for more?  I found in Tim something that I had never seen in a comic book before: character growth.  Somehow, though he was written by many different authors over many different years, Tim managed to have a character arc that is consistent and makes sense. Sure, there were a few small bumps along the way, but on the whole Tim has always stayed true to his character, and he’s developed in a way that the big name characters, like Batman, never can.

 When we’re first introduced to Tim, he’s a young teen who has been neglected by his parents growing up. He’s smart, healthy, and strong, but he lacks so much self confidence and has little sense of self worth.  Tim notices Bruce’s increasing violence as he grieves for the loss of his son, and Tim knows he needs to step in and help.  Batman needs a Robin.

 For most characters, this would be the part where Tim put himself forward for the job.  But he doesn’t.  He seeks out Dick Grayson and begs him to come home instead.  It’s only when Batman and Nightwing are in danger and there is literally no one else to help that Tim steps up and dons the cape. And once he does, he’s constantly plagued by self-doubt, terrified he will screw up and leave Batman worse than ever before.

 From there, Tim undergoes intense training.  He never begs to be in the spotlight, doesn’t push to go out on the streets before he’s ready.  His goal is to help Bruce as much as possible.

 Here’s where I started to fall in love with him.  All that self-doubt, the constant need to be useful?  That’s exactly what you would expect to see from a child whose parents had ignored and neglected him.  He finally has a parental figure who sees him, who values him, and Tim does everything he can to make himself worthy in the hopes that Bruce will keep him around.

 This is the first example of character consistency that we see with Tim.  And it continues.  When his mom dies and his dad is put in a coma, you see Tim struggle to come to terms with losing the people he loves, but never had a relationship with.  Tim almost never mentions his mom after her death, because she just wasn’t present in his life.  When his dad recovers and decides to stick around, Tim struggles to build a relationship with him.  He’s plagued with guilt because he’s finally found the father figure he needed in Bruce, but he thinks that he’s supposed to feel that way for Jack.  It’s a running undercurrent in their relationship that creates distance between them for years.

 This is already so long, so I’m going to try to summarize a bit more.  We get to watch Tim grow up.  We see his awkward relationship with his first girlfriend, Ariana.  He doesn’t know how to treat her; he’s never had the opportunity to observe a healthy relationship.  But he tries so, so hard.  All of Tim’s relationships are awkward, because he’s never had a model of a good one. Steph is a great match for him, because she’s very vocal about what she wants and needs, and she isn’t afraid to call Tim out when he messes up, which is exactly what Tim needs.

 Big things happen to Tim. He’s stuck with Jean-Paul Valley, who slowly goes insane, leaving Tim to try to keep the city in one piece.  He’s infected with the Clench, a plague that sweeps over Gotham and kills everyone it touches, and barely escapes with his life. His girlfriend is sexually assaulted, leaving him to deal with the fallout.  His family moves out of Gotham, and he has to sneak back in during No Man’s Land to help.  His relationship with his dad has intense ups and downs, resulting in him being sent to boarding school, punished in a variety of ways, and generally caused a lot of trouble in his life.

 Then people start dying. Over the course of about a year in his life, Tim loses his girlfriend, his dad, a close friend, and his best friend, each of whom dies under tragic conditions.  Tim’s grief is intense, and he is understandably traumatized by the losses. We see fundamental changes in his character.  He changes his costume from something bright and cheerful to something darker that reflects his emotional state.  He’s more subdued, his adventures a little more serious.

 When Bruce first tries to adopt him, Tim literally creates an uncle and hires an actor to play him, just to avoid dealing with the situation.  Bruce has viewed Tim as a son for years, so to him the adoption is an obvious step.  For Tim, it feels like a betrayal of his father, and it takes a while before he’s ready to accept Bruce’s love, home, and a place in his family.  

 When Damian shows up on the scene, Tim really struggles with him, and not just because early Damian is a horrid brat who tries to kill Tim on multiple occasions.  Tim has always felt the need to earn his place with Bruce, and Damian constantly throws all of Tim’s biggest fears in his face—he’s not wanted or needed now that the “real” son is here, he’s not worthy of a place in the family, he’s not good enough.

 Tim tries to clone Conner, his best friend.  He’s lost so many people, and he’s desperate to get them back.  Conner was cloned to begin with and fully matured over a very short period of time; the technology clearly exists, so why can’t Tim use it to get his best friend back?  And if he can get Conner back, why not the others he’s lost?  He eventually gives up, but when he eventually gets access to a Lazarus Pit, he immediately wants to incorporate the waters into his process so he can revive his loved ones.  With Dick’s help, Tim eventually decides to let it go, but it’s such a poignant moment for the character.

 Then Bruce dies, and Dick takes Robin away.  Tim switches to the Red Robin persona as he travels the world, alone, trying to prove that he was right.  He has to deal with the trauma of losing another father, finds out that his girlfriend never died but let him hurt so much for so long.  His brother and the only close friend he has left both think his grief has overwhelmed his sense and that he’s gone crazy.  He’s utterly alone.

 The Red Robin series is such a great culmination for Tim.  He finds a place for himself as a hero, as a CEO.  He gets parts of his family back—Bruce, Steph, Bart, Conner.  He finally figures out who he wants to be and creates a place for himself.

 This overarching character development is what I love about Tim.  His many, many traumas impact his decisions, and you can clearly see how he changes over time as a result of them.  I didn’t even go into his development as a leader from his early fumbling with Young Justice to his strong leadership of the Teen Titans, or how his relationships with Conner, Bart, and Cassie develop so fluidly and realistically over the years.

 This is why I love Tim. Characters like Batman are static; nothing that happens to them will ever have a lasting impact, because in the end the character always returns to what they were.  Tim, on the other hand, has changed and developed A LOT since his initial appearance.  His growth has always been consistent and logical.

 When the reboot happened, all of that character growth was lost.  Tim was replaced with a jerk who betrayed his friends and cheated on his girlfriend.  DC has basically retconned all of this and tried to turn Tim back into who he was, but by taking away all of the things that have happened to him over the years, Tim has lost SO MUCH.

 I keep looking for my Tim in recent comics, and I just can’t find him.  It breaks my heart, because I love him so much, and it feels like he’s lost to me forever.  The most recent Young Justice comic series actually gave me hope; I felt like maybe, finally, someone was going to write Tim correctly.  He had his primary friendships back, his relationship with Steph was developing (even if they seem to have completely dropped all the development around Steph’s decision to let Tim think she was dead).  The actual book itself wasn’t fantastic, but it felt like they were headed in the right direction.

 Over the last few days, I read the Batman: Urban Legends books.  I actually read the Batman/Red Hood story first, which was fantastic.  I was really excited to read Tim’s story (though I already knew how it ended).  Jason’s character was handled so well, and he seemed to actually have some character development that will hopefully last.  I anticipated the same for Tim.

 But Tim’s story was awful. The plot was all over the place—kids are being kidnapped, so Tim has to join a pain cult to get them back?  He’s somehow helping Oracle with computer issues while simultaneously questioning witnesses?  He’s broken up with Steph, off camera, shortly after telling her how much he loves her, but Steph somehow thinks that they should have a caring relationship where Tim tells her what he’s feeling?  Bernard has somehow become a good enough fighter to stand side by side with Robin?  Tim STILL doesn’t have a code name?  Why is everyone suddenly hounding him about what he wants to do with his life?

 It’s just such a mess of a story.  If it didn’t end with Tim agreeing to go on a date with Bernard, no one would ever have even mentioned it.  There’s nothing particularly re-readable or enjoyable about it.

 I actually liked that they brought Bernard back. I really enjoyed him in the original Robin series. It’s been a while since I read that part of the series (I’m actually working my way back through it now).  I know Bernard always read as gay to me, yet somehow I felt like he was out of character in these books.

 And then, the climax of the story.  Tim is bi, or gay, or has at least agreed to go on a date with a boy.

 If this had happened in the pre-boot, when Tim was Red Robin and had an actual character arc, I honestly wouldn’t have had an issue with it.  I do think it would have needed a LOT more build up than it was given here.  Tim has always been a very introspective character, and we’ve been party to so much of his internal monologue over the years.  It seems very strange to me that such a huge thing just sneaks up on him out of nowhere when he’s never even thought about it before.

 But more than that, this story just feels like the final death blow for the Tim I loved.  The whole arc is about how Tim doesn’t know who he is or who he wants to be.  What will his hero name be?  Will he go to college?  What is he going to do with his life?  These are all great questions, and his answer to all of them is… date a boy?  

 Is this going to be his defining characteristic going forward?  From here will we just see Tim exploring and discovering his sexuality?  The Tim we have now doesn’t have a family, a team, a purpose, or even a code name.  Why was this the thing that DC decided to give us?  It feels like they wanted to make a gay Robin and decided it would be Tim because they didn’t know what else to do with him.

 It’s stupid, but I honestly feel like I’ve spent the past few days grieving the loss of a loved one. The Tim that DC is presenting now is just not the person that I knew.  Tim would never break up with Steph that abruptly for what he admits is no apparent reason.  He would never say “just call me Robin, since Damian’s out of town.”  Everything that I love about Tim seems to be gone, and in its place DC has given me a date with a boy.  

 Again, it’s not Tim being not-straight that I have an issue with.  I’ve never read the character that way, but it’s something I can live with. My issue is the way it was handled. Why not make Tim an actual person first, and then explore his sexuality?  Send him off to college!  He’s obviously thinking about it!  It’s the perfect opportunity to give him his own book.  He can move to a different city, choose a new name, and DC can introduce a whole new set of characters.  Figure out which parts of Tim’s backstory are still canon, and which have been dropped. Make him a person again, and then let him explore his sexuality.

 I know this post is all over the place, and I don’t have time right now to go back and edit it.  I just really needed an outlet for my frustration.  Right now it feels like there are so many people who are so excited about Tim being bi/gay, but they don’t know anything else about him.  I keep seeing people comment how DC has been “dropping hints for years!” with no evidence other than “he and Superboy were really close!”  I guess I’d just really like to have some dialogue with other people who are fans of Tim, rather than fans of Tim-as-bi/gay or fans of Tim-as-straight.

 Does anyone else feel this way?  I’d honestly like to have a dialogue about it with other long time fans.

[thatfanfictionchick]

Mysme AU: Drive by biting

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Saeyoung x Tanya[OC]

Rating: Mature, nothing explicit

Warnings: AU; Saeyoung being a bitey fucker; Mature thot thoughts?;

Word Count: 1804

Notes: I started this July of last year just shoot me already Features Natalie, the wonderful OC of @keeperofthefour ! The OT3 may yet have their time

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It was Jinae with the invitation, courtesy of her father, that invited Tanya along to the party. It was beyond impressive, a glitzy glittering affair with the kind of people Tanya was definitely not used to associating with.

“I am once again impressed, J, that you spend your time working with me when you could be doing something way better.” Tanya said to her friend, snagging a flute of champagne from a passing waiter. Jinae grinned, waving her hand dismissively in the air and wrapping her free hand around Tanya’s elbow.

“And I’m telling you that what I do for you is leagues better than what I could be doing for any of these people.”

Before Tanya could argue, Jinae steered her around a cluster of tables to a wide open area full of mingling socialites. Piano music picked up over the murmur of talk; a light, enchanting melody. Tanya spotted a striking white piano in the corner and the dark hair of the person playing it before Jinae was turning her, calling out for someone.

“Jihyun!” A figure emerged, tall and lean. His hair was short but his bangs still fell in a sweeping curtain to obscure part of his face.

“Tanya,” Jinae introduced her “this is Jihyun Kim. He’s one of the RFA members and the photographer whose pictures they’re selling.”

“Your work is really beautiful!” Tanya enthused, taking his offered hand in greeting. His reply was washed out by the applause as the pianist finished. A moment later the dark haired pianist joined them, her soft hazel eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiled. Jihyun reached for her, his arm sliding around her waist to pull her against his side.

"This is my wife, Natalie." Natalie offered her hand, greeting them warmly. Unfortunately their pleasantries were cut short as two figures rushed forward. A blond and a tall redhead with glasses.

"There's a problem with the bidding system." The blond said quickly.

"I said I can fix it," the redhead huffed.

"He still needs to know!"

"We don't need to worry him with every little thing."

"And what if you can't fix it in time?"

"How dare-!"

"Gentlemen." Natalie interrupted the bickering pair. They immediately fell silent. Even Jihyun looked at her attentively. "Thank you for the notice, Yoosung. I'm confident Saeyoung can take care of it before the auction starts."

Saeyoung scrunched his nose and stuck his tongue out at Yoosung, who returned the childish gesture. Natalie clapped her hands as if to close the matter, and Saeyoung gave her a small salute before hurrying away.

Tanya watched him go, her eyes lingering on the red hair before mapping the breadth of his shoulders and traveling down his long legs. She could feel Jinae smirking at her and she sipped her champagne to cover her embarrassment.

Everyone had their preferences, alright? Tanya's just happened to be flamingly obvious.

~

An hour later Jinae was deep in conversation with another woman when Tanya slipped away to find the restroom. She followed the signage to a dimly lit corridor, bright lights spotlighting the respective doors at the end. Her heart jumped at the sight of a familiar spectacled figure coming down the hall.

"Saeyoung, right?"

His hair was messier, the red stands now a curly halo around his head. He slowly looked her over before offering his hand. She thought he intended a handshake but when she took it his long fingers curled under her palm, lifting her hand and using his grip to pull her a step closer.

"Sounds like me," he teased, his lips touching the back of her hand. "And you are…?"

"Tanya." Her voice came out higher than normal. She wondered if he could feel her heartbeat through her fingers; she certainly could. He hummed, his lips brushing over her knuckles and along her fingers.

She was absolutely going to make a fool of herself if he kept that up. "Did...did you get the bidding system fixed?" He huffed and rolled his eyes, but he also smiled.

"I told Yoosung it was an easy fix." He didn't let go of her hand but lowered it and for a moment she could breathe again, at least until his thumb absently rubbed along her own. "He's cute but a little high strung, honestly."

Gods is he this touchy with everyone? Tanya's brain simply could not. She was desperately trying to think of a way to regain her composure when footsteps from behind caught her attention. Saeyoung's face alighted mischievously. "Zen!"

Long silver hair in a ponytail, shocking crimson eyes. Zen glared at Saeyoung as his hand reflexively moved to his neck. "No!" he snarled.

Saeyoung laughed. "Aw c'mon Zen, what's a little love bite between friends?"

Tanya's snort of laughter was drowned out by Zen declaring "try that again and I will hit you!" as he skirted by and disappeared into the bathroom.

"No!" She was trying to get her laughter under control as Saeyoung turned his attention back to her. He looked positively delighted. "You did not!"

"What?" He almost sounded innocent. "You don't say hello with a little nibble?"

"I can honestly say I have never considered greeting my friends by biting them, no." He can not be for real.

"You should try it. Really keeps them on their toes."

"I'm very sure it does." Her stomach was fluttering madly and his hand felt impossibly hot wrapped around hers. Her entire being seemed to sense they were headed in a direction there was no return from if she didn't act quickly.

The dim light put her at a disadvantage. Behind the glare of his glasses she was unaware of the way his eyes had turned molten and scorching; predatory as they traced the curve of her exposed neck. “Although,” was it just her, or had his voice gotten lower? “I think it’s a shame to only limit it to your friends.”

Something in her self preservation instincts short circuited. She wasn’t even aware of stepping closer to him. He finally let go of her hand, already reaching up to brush a stray curl off her shoulder as she said “That would be a shame, wouldn’t it?”

He hummed softly, his thumb rubbing along her jaw as his fingers curled around the back of her neck. She leaned into his touch, goosebumps raising in a wave all down her body as he bent down. The heat of his breath against her skin had her eyes snapping shut, the spice of the cologne he wore tingling as it surged through her veins. His lips touched the base of her neck and she inhaled sharply. Teeth scraped slowly, lightly, along her skin the first time. The second time they tugged, his tongue swirling against the sensitive skin as he bit down. Her fumbling fingers found the fabric of his shirt and grabbed, pulling him as close as she could.

It was too hot. Her head was swimming. Her heart was somehow simultaneously in her chest and her stomach and her throat and her hands all at the same time. The electric almost-pain of his teeth and tongue working to mark her had every nerve rattled. His fingers pressed tighter into her neck, his other hand gripping her hip and moving slowly up her waist and around her back, fingertips skimming the bare skin.

“Breathe.” He paused to murmur the command against her skin and she exhaled raggedly. Right. Right, breathing. She needed to do that. “There you go.” His lips skimmed up her neck and he intently went to work adding a second dark mark, pleased by the small noises she made as she grabbed his shirt at the collar.

The heat inside her had migrated and there was no ignoring the moisture collecting between her legs. She didn't care what label it stuck her with, Tanya was willing to do whatever it took to get Saeyoung to fuck her. She'd beg if she had to (and oh, if only she knew how much he'd enjoy that). His lips were moving up her neck and against her jaw. She blinked owlishly as his golden eyes came into view. Waiting for his lips to meet hers seemed to be taking an eternity, the suspense near enough to make her scream.

"Saeyoung!" WHY.

Startled, they stepped away from each other as someone rounded the corner.

"What the-?" Tanya did a double take, looking from Saeyoung, to the newcomer, and back again.

Same red hair. Same face. Same golden eyes, sans spectacles. About the same height but with a thinner build.

"Saeran." Saeyoung chirped, grinning lazily at his brother as if he hadn't nearly been caught practically devouring a stranger in a dim hallway. However the look on Saeran's face said enough: he knew exactly what he'd interrupted.

“There’s an issue with the auction display and we’re starting in five minutes.”

Saeyoung sighed, ruffling the hair at the back of his head. “If it’s not one thing it’s another…” He shot Saeran another grin. “I’ll be right there.” Saeran nodded and walked away, shaking his head slightly as he did.

Tanya bristled at the way disappointment washed over her. It made her limbs tense. She felt the childish urge to kick something good and hard, even if it did maim her heels. "Well…"

That was as far as she got. Saeyoung turned and grabbed her around the waist and dragged her impatiently against him. He kissed her, hard and deep, his tongue curling with hers hungrily. Throwing any sense of decorum out the window she plunged her fingers in his hair, nails scratching his scalp in desperation. He practically lifted her off her feet, his other hand caressing her cheek.

And just as suddenly he stopped, leaving them panting and twisted together. His thumb rubbed the still tender bites on her neck and she shivered. He had to go take care of the display. Had to, unfortunately. “Wait for me to finish?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Tanya breathed. She needed to let him go but damn if she didn’t want to. Her feet solidly back on the ground she pulled him in for one more kiss, softer this time. He sighed when he pulled away, his eyes fixated on her lips. Then with a slight squeeze from the hand on her waist he was gone.

She was still standing there looking dazed when Jinae came around the corner a minute later. "There you are, I was wondering…" Jinae trailed off, spotting the dark blooms on Tanya's neck. "Are you okay? What happened to you?"

Tanya looked at her friend, a giddy smile making the corners of her glittering eyes crinkle. She giggled like a drunken fool, looping her arm through Jinae's and pulling the other woman towards the bathroom.

"I think I'm in love."

~

And since I'm so extra, a wonky collage of what Tanya would be wearing to the party.

She's a high maintenance gal.

[shihalyfie]

A meta on Mimi and her character

Today’s spotlight character is Mimi! While the Adventure characters are all written to subvert character stereotypes (no, really), I feel this is particularly enhanced for Mimi, whose surface demeanor and the first impression you get from her suggest an almost opposite character to whom she actually is.

Disclaimer before we continue: While not to the same extent as Daisuke, Mimi’s disposition and personality have some significant differences in the American English dub compared to the original Japanese. As usual, this is not meant to be any particular comment about the dub’s changes, but simply that if you’ve only seen that dub, are reading this post, and are thinking “that doesn’t seem right?” that would probably be why.

Mimi’s family background and attitude prior to Adventure

Like with any of the other Adventure characters, understanding Mimi’s personality and why she acts the way she does is most easily done by starting with her family background.

We first meet Mimi’s family in Adventure episode 35.

There is a lot to unpack with only this scene alone, so let’s get started!

Mimi’s family is quite well-to-do. They’re not filthy rich or anything, but they’re well-to-do enough for Mimi’s father to work freelancer (he works in music). This means that Mimi grew up with a fairly “comfortable” life, probably getting pretty much anything she asked for -- in other words, she’s spoiled. It also explains why she’s actually pretty impeccably polite to everyone -- she adheres very firmly to honorifics when speaking to both elders and younger people, and never, ever speaks roughly or aggressively, because her parents have basically been raising her like a “lady of the house” (ojousama) or princess. (She does use casual-form Japanese, but she never lets up on the honorifics.)

They’re very open-minded. We learn in this episode that Mimi’s bizarre food tastes in liking natto on her eggs with sugar (from Adventure episode 6) most likely come from her mother, Satoe, cooking things like kimchi fried rice with whipped cream and strawberries. In other words, the family is very into the idea of “unconventional and strange” and has no qualms about it.

While Mimi in 02 is portrayed as liking practically any kind of fashion aesthetic imaginable, both her room and the overall decor of the apartment suggest that “in-your-face cute” is the generally favored one.

Mimi’s family is also extremely affectionate. They smother each other in lovey-dovey words, her father actively likes Satoe’s weird cooking ideas, and it’s a household where everyone seems to dote on and mutually love and support each other (Mimi’s parents are almost embarrassingly lovey-dovey) without restraint.

The result is that Mimi ends up “spoiled sweet” -- she’s pampered and used to a comfortable life where everyone dotes on her, but because of the family dynamic being so built on “affection” and “open-mindedness”, she also never develops a streak towards condescension or malice.

What does that mean, you might ask?

Mimi in Adventure

A lot of people remember Mimi by the fact that she was “whining a lot” in the early stages of Adventure, and the fact that she’s a “girly-girl” with some of the associated stereotypes. As a result, one may be surprised to hear that her behavior is actually supposed to be mostly representative of an average child in her situation, and she’s often described in press materials as “someone who can befriend anyone” or “someone who can get along with anyone”. Even her official website profile talks about how pretty much everyone considers her likeable.

This may seem difficult to believe at first, but you might actually notice a pattern when it comes to her “complaining” -- it pretty much always boils down to one of the following, or something along these lines:

I’m scared

I’m tired

I don’t like this/I don’t want that

I want a bath/bed/food/(some other home comfort)

I want to go home

In other words, Mimi is basically reacting like an average child would when thrown into another world out of nowhere! All of her complaints are out of low tolerance and high sensitivity -- all of these scary and uncomfortable things around her are making her feel bad, and she’s not hesitating to make that clear with her words.

However -- and this is very important -- these are all things she’s saying specifically because she’s now in a dangerous, unfamiliar situation in another world. All of these things are things she says defensively, because she’s sensitive to being uncomfortable or hurt, but she is also never aggressive towards others. In completely normal situations -- ones where all she’s doing is socializing at school -- it’s not hard to believe that she would actually be one of the nicest and most considerate people on the planet and that she would be instantly likeable to anyone she meets. Why? Because she lacks condescension or malice. She’s a very nice person who, if not for being under heavy stress, would never step on anyone’s toes. Even during those early episodes of Adventure, whenever there’s “down time” and they’re not in an uncomfortable situation or being chased by something, she goes back to being polite and respectful of others (remember: she’s one of the most adherent to honorifics among the cast), and is perfectly kind and agreeable with them.

As much as she may sometimes get demanding during the early episodes of Adventure, she also doesn’t expect her peers to cater to her nor does she look down on them. One of the biggest examples comes from the Adventure novel:

Mi–chan was pointing at the front of the bus, where a boy wearing a long–sleeved orange shirt was about to get off. Even Mimi knew who he was. They hardly ever talked together, but he was her classmate, Koushiro Izumi. Mi–chan wanted them to look at what Koushiro was carrying on his back – a wireless laptop. “Isn’t he so weird for bringing that all the way to camp?” Mi–chan sneered with mocking laughter, but Mimi didn’t laugh. She simply didn’t find any reason to.

In a situation where people are mocking this weirdo kid for bringing his laptop to camp, Mimi “sees no reason” to look down on him. To her, what’s the point? It’s not fun to be malicious towards others, and she sees no benefit in dunking on him. Hence, because she’s actually very polite and open-minded towards others, and doesn’t see any reason to be mean, she’s not mean, and so you can see why everyone would like her -- after all, she’s not only bright and cheerful, she’s also polite and kind! Who wouldn’t like such a nice person?

Mimi’s first “focus episode” is Adventure episode 6, and we already see a lot of these traits in action. Mimi gets to see the other kids making absolute fools of themselves under Monzaemon’s brainwashing, but the most she has to say is just observing that they seem to not be having fun, and being worried about their well-being. Once she finds out the truth behind what he did to them, she gets extremely angry on her friends’ behalf -- she actually calls them her “friends”, despite them barely knowing each other at this point!

And then when the Numemon step in to fight for her, despite her initially having been turned off by them (mainly because they make her uncomfortable, both by indulging in literal poop around her presence and by invading her personal space by flirting with her), she actually almost breaks down in tears over them!

What this all means is that Mimi’s “high sensitivity” also translates to something else: Mimi has extremely high empathy for others. In terms of being “sensitive”, she’s also sensitive to how other people feel. She worries about others’ welfare constantly, even when they’re poop-throwing slime monsters who had just flirted with her, or near-stranger classmates who just happen to have been thrown onto this adventure with her whom she barely knows. That’s why she’s so nice to other people -- she feels for them, and she constantly empathizes with others’ emotions, so that’s why she’s never rude to others nor does she step on their toes.

It’s also why, even after Koushirou rubs her the wrong way and momentarily causes her to lash out at him for being insensitive about her feelings in Adventure episode 10, she also never seems to hold a grudge against him thereafter (especially since, for as much as he was acting pretty frustrating, she understands he was doing it out of good intentions). In fact, Mimi is pretty much incapable of holding a grudge at all. (More on this later!)

Mimi’s most famous incident of “succumbing to her vices” is Adventure episode 25, when she ends up letting the Geckomon and Otamamon pamper her while stringing along and refusing to do the job they’d needed her for in the first place (singing to wake TonosamaGeckomon). Let’s go over what led to Mimi getting in this situation:

Mimi was basically at her limit. She had been in the Digital World for what had been implied to be months. Going that long without her bath or soft bed or comfort, it’s understandable that she finally let stress overcome her and succumbed to her vices in full. This is basically Mimi at one of her worst possible breaking points, not her most of the time.

Taichi, Jou, and their partners never gave her a very good reason why they should leave (Taichi never explained the problems going on in the real world, nor that he’d even taken a pit stop there) and now, for all she knows, they’re trapped in the Digital World forever, so when she sees an offer to make it all stop hurting, she naturally takes it -- especially when the people telling her to leave aren’t giving her any reason why except that she should.

Even despite all that, Mimi has a complete mental breakdown after her tantrum ends up throwing everyone in jail, dreaming about how everyone must hate her now and how even the Geckomon and Otamamon are tiring of her (the fact this pops up in her dream implies that she’d had a feeling this was coming for a while now). Sora comes to give her a little encouragement, but even she says that Mimi already really knows what she should be doing now. Mimi ends up bringing everyone out to apologize to them and fulfill her duty before the night is even over.

So let’s recap: Mimi is so empathetic and worried about other people’s feelings and what they think of her that, even in arguably one of the worst mental health crashes we’ve ever seen her have on screen, she still breaks down at the prospect of disappointing everyone and making them hate her to the point she immediately recognizes how far she’s fallen and takes it back before the night’s even over. That is how much other people, ranging from Taichi to a crowd of Digimon she’s only vaguely acquainted with, matter to her.

The full “payoff” for this episode in terms of the light of the Crest of Purity glowing and achieving Lilimon evolution does not happen until Adventure episode 35.

It is interesting for a lot of reasons, mainly because it involves all of the events happening in response to things that don’t sound very virtuous on their face (early in the episode, Mimi insensitively comments on Palmon being “bad taste”, and later in the episode she starts considering the Digimon tormenting others unforgivable).

The “Crest of Purity” (sometimes “Innocence”) is something that’s often been difficult to translate, mainly because the easiest words that come to mind often have other unwanted implications, but the real point of it is that, again, Mimi is lacking in malice. The way she talks to Palmon at the beginning of the episode indicates she really didn’t think Palmon would take it seriously (she even urges her to “not think too much into it”), only to find out at the end of the episode that she sort of kind of did. (Trust me, she’s very sorry about it.) The other thing is that, when she starts protesting at the Digimon at the end of the episode, she’s doing this specifically because she’s weeping on behalf of all of the tormented civilians (including her family) that are being caught in the crossfire. She’s so constantly empathetic towards other people that seeing other people hurt, regardless of how well she knows them, just eats her inside. So for her, those who cause that kind of suffering are unforgivable, because they’re inflicting that pain on others.

This is also what leads to her breakdown near the three-quarters mark of the series. Like with how she eventually came to empathize with the Numemon who fought on her behalf, Mimi holds no grudge against Scumon and Chuumon despite them having flirted with her earlier, and Chuumon taking a hit for her hurts her the deepest among all of the other kids. Because Mimi is so empathetic towards others, every death starts tearing away further until she finally can’t take it anymore. 

Mimi is fundamentally the kind of person who hates fighting, and even from day one she’d never liked it -- her way of “encouraging” fighting was more like hoping that Palmon (or her evolved forms) could survive. If she wanted to win, it was in the sense of wanting everyone to Not Die; she was never belligerent. But now that the actual body count of people she considers friends is rising, she associates fighting so deeply with that body count that the pain gets to her, and the last straw breaks in Adventure episode 45 in the form of two people she considers friends, Taichi and Yamato, getting in a fight. Everyone around her is hurt. Everyone around her is pain. The naturally empathetic Mimi feels all of this, and she thus decides to pull back from the fighting.

Mimi being such a firm pacifist does have its benefits -- not only does it mean that she holds no grudge against Ogremon in Adventure episode 46 and bid for treating his wounds even though Jou (understandably!) is initially more skeptical because of how he’d initially tried to kill them, she also creates a major dent in Ogremon’s “fated rival” philosophy towards Leomon by forcing him to question: so what if you do defeat your rival? Then what? What’s the point of fighting? Does it actually make you feel better to try and prove your strength this way? (Even Leomon, for all he’s portrayed as noble, is still shown to have a petty investment in his conflict with Ogremon in the following episode.) Ogremon tries not to think too hard about it, but Mimi questioning “what he would do if Leomon were gone” becomes a question he really does have to confront when Leomon dies in the next episode...

...which is also an important learning lesson for Mimi herself as well: fighting may cause collateral damage, but not fighting doesn’t help things either, because when less-than-virtuous forces are at work, casualties will happen either way. In fact, it’s even worse to be a sitting duck, because now you’re just doing nothing when people die right in front of you. Which is a lesson that Jou had wanted to tell her earlier, but didn’t know how to describe to her in words because of his own complicated feelings:

What he wanted to tell her was this: that he didn’t see any likelihood of co-existing with the Dark Masters, and that they had no other choice but to fight them. Even a neutral country like Switzerland had a military. They would be invaded by enemy countries without one. It would be nice and ideal if they used the nonviolent resistance approach as Ghandi did. But that didn’t mean it was okay to just be killed without lifting a finger… But not even he could find a good answer.

However, Mimi is still a pacifist. Even if she finally understands that fighting is necessary, that should not mean that she should now force herself to become someone gung-ho and enthusiastic about it. This is why, in Adventure episode 50, Jou contemplates different ways they can productively contribute to the fight -- because Mimi should not be obligated to personally fight herself when it’s not in her fundamental nature, and Jou personally does not feel that he’s very good at it. But Jou, having put some thought into “one’s own path”, realizes that literal physical violence fighting isn’t the only way to be “part of the fight” -- and so while Jou starts to realize that his unique role is becoming someone who can be a capable healer and doctor for those who are wounded, Mimi has her own talents that she can use to bring Digimon and other allies together. Because Mimi is a kind and charismatic person whom everyone finds likeable and would be willing to come along with, and since she holds no grudges against anyone, nobody would hold any grudges against her, so she’s perfect for the role of “bringing people together for the sake of what they want to protect”.

And she does. Adventure being a series that respects the contributions of those who don’t necessarily participate by direct fighting, Mimi’s rallying together of the Digimon becomes key to saving everyone in Adventure episode 52, and the fact that everyone’s together in the end makes for a great group photo.

Speaking of the final episode, in case the point hadn’t been driven home enough that Mimi’s the most empathetic and emotionally sensitive of the entire cast, the series famously ends on her very emotionally compromised farewell with Palmon. Of course, Palmon’s the one who kind of initiated it (she’s the one who initially refuses to see Mimi because she’s too emotionally compromised), but, after all, the series ends on Mimi being so frazzled about it that she loses her hat.

Mimi in 02 and beyond

As with the other Adventure kids, Mimi’s character arc continues in 02, and we learn a lot about her before she even makes her first personal appearance!

Firstly, we learn that Mimi’s moved to America. The in-universe reason is that it’s for her father’s work...or, at least, ostensibly so, because 02 episode 40 implies that the actual reason was that her parents wanted them to be away from Digimon incidents. (Which, of course, didn’t last very long.) The meta reason for Mimi moving, however, very likely has to do with the fact that 02 involves a subplot of Chosen Children appearing all over the world, and Mimi’s character involves an innate talent for bringing people together.

We learn in Two-and-a-Half Year Break that Mimi moved in 2001, only one year before 02′s events, and eventually got caught in the 9/11 incident -- where she met a number of other American Chosen Children in New York and, now much stronger of heart since the events of Adventure, was able to help them in the recovery efforts, despite there being a language barrier. With this, and the fact she’s shown at a huge party in 02 episode 14: they’re not kidding when they say Mimi can become friends with pretty much anyone. Even going to an entirely different country and dealing with a language and cultural barrier, Mimi is such a naturally kind and compassionate person that she immediately doesn’t have any problem fitting in. (Because, really, someone that level of kind and friendly is hard to dislike.) And in a world where international solidarity between Chosen Children is getting more and more important, that is a very valuable role to have.

The other thing we find out early about Mimi in 02 episode 2 is that Sora catches on that Miyako is a lot like Mimi, based on the fact that Miyako also is empathetic and has an aversion to fighting. And Sora’s completely right, because when Mimi does come into the picture, the similarities -- and differences -- between her and Miyako say a lot about both characters.

When Mimi arrives in Japan in 02 episode 6 (for her cousin’s wedding), she and Miyako immediately get along with each other, and Miyako instantly role-models her, to the point of claiming her as an honorary older sister (despite already having older sisters herself!). It’s not surprising; Mimi and Miyako are both very bright and cheerful people, and Miyako even shares the background of being slightly pampered by her family (although presumably more due to her being the youngest of several siblings). Mimi, for her part, continues her trend of being likeable and fond of pretty much everything (including even her beloved tuna-mayo onigiri that she hadn’t had for so long), and is perfectly happy to be tight with Miyako.

The Digitamamon incident in 02 episode 14, however, adds an extra layer into why Miyako idolizes Mimi so much besides Mimi just being cool in general: Mimi is kind, forgiving, mature, and incapable of holding a grudge -- to the point her pacifistic tendencies kick in even when Digitamamon gets hit by a Evil Spiral and she refuses to fight him, despite him literally starting to beat her up. Again, Mimi came to understand the inevitability of having to fight back in Adventure, but Digitamamon is, to her, a friend who was trying his hardest to turn over a new leaf -- so, naturally, she tries to see if she can appeal to his heart instead. Miyako, on the other hand, is on the opposite extreme -- she’s so judgmental about her poor first impression with Digitamamon that, despite fully knowing well that Evil Spirals cause their victims to lose their ability to have reason, keeps trying to use it as evidence that Digitamamon was a traitor from the get-go.

Considering that the “secondary Digimentals” arc is largely about Daisuke, Miyako, and Iori coming to terms with their deficiencies in their respective traits and aspiring to do better, Miyako unfavorably compares herself to Mimi because Mimi is everything she wants to be and currently isn’t. Unlike Mimi, Miyako is aggressive, in-your-face, occasionally judgmental, belligerent, sometimes insensitive (not by choice), and often shallow, which she fully admits to in this episode. Of course, the reason Miyako gets the Digimental of Purity (Mimi’s trait) is because she hates this about herself -- even in 02 episode 31, she gives herself no shortage of grief for her foot-in-mouth syndrome and the fact she’s not as “kind” of a person she wants to be, and she herself is also fundamentally devoid of malice, just quick to jump to conclusions and a bit sidetracked by first impressions. (After all, Mimi was guilty of being accidentally insensitive when she called Palmon lacking in taste back in Adventure; the point is that when both of them do it, they really don’t mean badly, and end up sorry for it later.)

But that’s a story for another post about Miyako; more importantly, the reason Miyako is harsh on herself about this in this episode is that, in many ways, she’s everything Mimi is not, because Mimi is empathetic and mature and polite and never steps on anyone’s toes.

02 episode 25 gives us more to work with; first of all, she’s depicted in yet another completely different hair and fashion style (which she brings up another of during the winter season), and her drastic shifts in style indicate more of her “open-mindedness”; she’s open to trying out tons of new things and is willing to like just about anything. More importantly, however, she turns out to be completely open-minded about recruiting Ken to help out, even though she’s well aware of what he’d done as the Kaiser (and, again, Miyako sees her ability to be forgiving as something to look up to). Because, again, Mimi doesn’t hold a grudge; she doesn’t send anything accusatory or forceful to Ken, but simply believes that he should be given the chance to know what’s going on and help out if he so chooses, which becomes key to Miyako herself also choosing to accept Ken at the end of the episode.

Given that Mimi is portrayed as so open-minded towards trying all sorts of things, it’s probably no surprise that her “career” in Kizuna is so different from what we eventually know she’ll be doing in the epilogue -- instead of her cooking show, we see her running an online shopping business. After all, with her being so open-minded about wanting to do potentially anything, it’s very like her to "dabble” in a few different experimental things before (or perhaps “without”!) settling for something. What we know about this business is also quite on brand for her; her business specializes in “cute” (her preferred aesthetic, which she also shamelessly dresses in), and she’s established as setting up business all over the world to the point she has to constantly travel. Presumably, her natural charisma made it easy for her to set up connections.

Interestingly, her website profile also omits any discussion of any kind of university or other post-secondary education, implying that, unlike the others, she chose to dive directly into her career after high school. Again, it’s quite like her to find something she wanted to do and pursue it the moment it was in front of her -- no matter what it is, as long as it’s interesting.

Mimi’s largest amount of focus in regards to the movie is in To Sora, where she’s seen checking in on Sora after noticing she hasn’t been in the group chat in a while -- again, as someone constantly empathetic to how her friends are doing, it’s natural that she’s the one who catches on and decides she needs to check in. As someone who loves uplifting and supporting her friends first and foremost, she happens to be fully aware of what everyone’s currently up to (compare how Taichi had to be actively updated on Sora and Takeru’s status from Yamato in the movie proper), and also provides nothing but positive supportiveness to Sora’s troubles during their conversation -- as usual, always respectful and polite, and never condescending.

And, of course, she naturally empathizes with Sora having hesitation about fighting -- both because she’s been busy herself, but also because she, of course, understands exactly how it feels for fighting to be emotionally taxing -- and declares that she’ll support Sora with whatever she does, just like how she found her own path back in Adventure by choosing to contribute by bringing people together instead of fighting. She makes do on this promise as well, considering that she keeps up with supporting Sora during her exhibition.

By the time of the 02 epilogue, Mimi has decided to change tracks entirely and go for cooking, which, while being very different, is also very on-brand. This time, the part about “cooking” is something that comes from her family, since, after all, experimental cooking (...of some kind) was something Satoe got the whole family to embrace. The exact nature of her job is literally “culinary researcher”, which is a Japanese catch-all to refer to the sort of “food critic” who experiments with food and writes extensively (or, in this case, runs a TV show) about different ways you can enjoy and put together food, which also goes in mind with her streak of “open-mindedness”. The common point is, really, that everything Mimi does comes out of positivity, supportiveness, and love.

[real-fanta-sea]

Prompt for the kiss no. 71

Prompt: "Not to be cringe or anything, but I really like the idea of the kiss 71 (height difference kisses where one person has to bend down, and the other is on their tippy-toes)...where Trevor is his true height. i.e. Ogg's height and Michael has to stand on his tiptoes to snog him."

I'm sorry, anon, but I saved the post as a draft and it just vanished into thin connection. So, I have to answer this way.

This work is more of a spur of the moment thing, but I kinda like the way it turned out, being it just my emotions spilt onto paper. If you'd like, you can read it on AO3 here, or under read more. I hope you'll like it as much as I enjoyed writing it! :)

tw: kissing, child abuse memories

It's been three weeks already.

An unhealthy greenish glow of flickering light tubes and the icy breath of an industrial refrigerator made him shiver as Michael, gliding on the orbit touching stars in his mind, put yet another box of ready-made microwave hamburgers into his shopping cart. If he were not a regular in this particular shop, he would have got lost. It resembled an anthill with seemingly infinite shelves and aisles, bursting with the merchandise, even though the depressed lights covered everything in the same shade of decay green. The same life outlook was shared with most of the shadows roaming around whose name tags qualified them as proud employees of Flormart.

It's been three weeks, and he still stuck around, hanging on his every word.

Michael pushed his cart further from frozen goods, and the pictures swirling and smearing all around transitioned from photoshopped vegetables to flashy fireworks of chips and other guilty pleasures he planned on indulging in later on. Some people would find the height of the shelves menacing, but to Michael, it was just a memory that pulled him from the orbit back to earth and placed him in the middle of a football pitch. The smell of sweat building up underneath his helmet. The crunch of the crisp lawn under his feet. The spotlight following him whenever he scored. Cheering faceless crowds in time with busty faceless girls' pompoms. But most of all, he felt happy again - needed, cherished, innocent, and with a bright future awaiting his embrace. But then, just as he crossed from the snacks aisle to the alcohol quarter, the football stadium lights flickered and turned bright red. All the faceless girls turned around, their mouths gaping as if someone dislocated their jaws, and the cheering turned into a hellish cry of pain. Where their eyes were supposed to be, he saw a flair, screwing itself deeper into their skull, and a stream of scarlet goo drip down on their immaculate white dresses.

It's been three weeks, and somehow, his puppy-like behaviour didn't irk him yet. Quite the opposite if he were honest with himself - he felt strangely peaceful in his company.

Michael gulped in a desperate attempt to wash down the horror that invited itself under cover of a happy memory. Shaking his head only did so much and dispersed the spectators and cheerleaders alike, in the same way shaking a snowy paperweight would. Michael's chest constricted as he felt unable to breathe in properly, people splatting and exploding upon impact all around him in his mind. Suddenly, he felt a pull under both of his shoulders and found himself flying towards the pitch-black sky, where instead of one moon, two shone down on him. As he flew closer, they shrunk into two amber irises - and Michael immediately knew who pulled him out of the memory. As he crashed into a mass of pink candy cotton clouds, his vision blurred just to clear up when he felt a solid surface under his feet and someones hot hands in his. Somehow, he found himself looking at the tips of abused old pair of sneakers he was wearing, the same pair Michael knew he wore that faithful day at the airstrip. A moment later, a couple of dark blue, equally run-down ones stepped into his field of vision. He slowly let his sight slide up on crumpled jeans, the hem of a military jacket, a pair of dog tags hanging around a slender neck, a sharp jaw, a pair of full dark lips and finally, to the pair of amber eyes, eyes that radiated worry, care and, at the same time, something he could only read as love and utmost devotion.

It's been three weeks since the incident, and anytime he woke up from a nightmare that played in his mind over and over again, he was there to soothe him; he was there waiting for Michael's tears to dampen his naked shoulder. He didn't bitch about it and didn't tell a soul in the morning.

Michael let out a shaky breath. Stopping his feet from casually continuing in their stroll proved harder than he thought, and he leaned on the shopping cart handle, running fingers through his hair. He couldn't decide what mortified him more - the creativity his brain proved to possess when playing out the horrible things he has witnessed in just a few years of his fresh adulthood, or the way it put his acquaintance on some fucking pedestal and presented him as the alpha and omega of his thoughts and desires.

"Hey Michael, are you ok?"

Speaking of the devil... "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I just.." Michael breathed in again and turned towards the source of the voice, trying to display a small smile by twitching his tired lips "I need a smoke, that's all."

It's been three weeks, and he got that tingling feeling in his guts already. He could barely tolerate touch or prolonged eye contact without getting goosebumps and that ticklish feeling solidifying and slicing right into his groin. Michael wanted to believe it was just his weird head showing gratitude for saving his ass, but anytime he found himself in the company of that amber-eyed twink, the longing grew worse.

"Hey, how about a bottle of something to wash the cig down?" said the guy and his oversized jeans jacket hanging from his shoulders cringed into weird shapes as he took one of his hands out of his pocket and pointed his thumb towards the shelves. He looked so adorably dishevelled in all jeans, and with his silky hair framing his hopeful face, Michael couldn't have said no to anything he would suggest. Instead of mustering the strength to say no, Michael threw another smile towards his companion and turned his back to him to choose the dream crusher he wanted to numb them with before they went to bed.

To someone who grew up in a functional family, all the labels and bottle shapes would seem the same. To Michael, however, to choose the right brand and size meant the same as selecting the bananas or avocados of the proper ripeness would for them. It was a work of art; he learned so much in the ten years of living with his stepfather. While scrutinizing the shelves, index finger and thumb scrubbing on the sides of his chin absent-mindedly, he remembered how they would come to the similar shop together, he and his mother's second husband, and how he slipped behind the shelves. At the same time, Frank chatted with the clerk, and he stuffed his lunch box with a large flat bottle of Chief's Heritage Fire Water whiskey. He had to carefully close it to avoid disturbing the aluminium foil that served as a guard from the primitive electronic protection device they had to pass through on their way out. Michael would then tuck his stepfather's sleeve, babble some cute nonsense to get candy from the unsuspicious clerk, and after they paid for the two packs of cigarettes and a beer, they would leave. Frank would let him chug on whiskey then, and if he were in an exceptionally good mood, he would let him sleep through the night without beating the shit out of him.

Finally, spotting the whiskey he knew so well on one of the top shelves, Michael attempted to grasp it but only managed to graze his fingertips against the bottom of one of the bottles that rocked gently upon touch but otherwise didn't move an inch. "Fuck", he uttered under his breath, cracked his neck and stretched onto the tips of his toes, steadying himself by holding onto one of the lower shelves. But, again, he could only touch the bottle but not get a good hold of it. He even contemplated climbing the shelves to get it, as if the shame of his disappointing height haven't already painted his cheeks bright red and didn't make him want to leave the shop right away. Just as he braced himself for the climb, eyes fixed on that damn bottle, a gentle touch of someone's hand squeezing his shoulder made him turn around. It was Trevor's hand, and even though Michael still had to look up to meet his eyes, the small sympathetic smile put him in ease in a blink of an eye.

"Chief's, huh? Good choice, Mike!" the praise in his voice made Michael shiver, and he desperately tried to ignore the warmth he was receiving through the palm still steady on his shoulder and which upset his heart into beating twice as fast as ever before. "My old man used to drink this. It tastes like cat piss but knocks you out good for the buck." Trevor's grin felt like a warm touch sunrise after countless years of freezing darkness. Michael couldn't help but soak in the warmth, allowing himself to lose himself in the feeling completely. "Let me get it for you, eh?" he heard Trevor say from somewhere near, and before he could object, most of the light was obstructed by a jeans-clad chest.

It was then when Michael closed his eyes and tried to get hold of the situation. Trevor, the guy he only knew for three weeks, pushing Michael's back onto the shelves as he leaned for the bottle but also pushing his chest almost to Michael's. If it weren't for a couple of inches of hot air and fabric between them, their bodies would brush against each other. Michael could only gulp when he opened his eyes again, and his mind provided him with the maddening picture of Trevor's naked lean chest, peppered with dark brown hair as if puberty marked its way down towards his groin with it. Michael's head was spinning when he looked up to see Trevor still busy fetching the bottle. Michael's racing imagination saw him grabbing the guy's head, crashing lips with his and dissolving into what he thought would be the best kiss he would ever receive. Michael gulped again. He had to have him.

He was anxious about the way it was too easy to raise both his hands and grab fists full of other man's jacket as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Michael didn't fight it when he felt his muscles pull on the fabric and only turned his gaze up to where he expected Trevor's eyes to look once he would feel the movement of his clothes. Michael didn't have to wait for it at all, actually; the puzzled expression was already waiting for him to drink it up. However, he couldn't maintain the contact for too long as his eyes focused on something completely different; the dark lips, deliciously parted in the unspoken question. The distance between his own and them unnerved him, and in the sparking silence, Michael again propped himself onto the tips of his toes, pressed harder on the fabric to steady himself and, closing eyes, pressed his lips to Trevor's.

For a delicious moment, the world fell apart as if some invisible force made the dimensions crash down. The trembling soft firmness against his lips sent shivers down his spine with each cautious move. Whenever Michael recalled the moment years later, he could always sense the faint smell of cigarettes, petrol and sun mixing between their bodies and the way the ground shook and cried under his feet when he felt Trevor's palms slide down his sides and pull him closer, effectively sweeping him off his feet.

Trevor seemed to be relishing at the moment as much as Michael was, but when he felt solid ground under his feet again, and the pair of arms letting go of him, Michael reluctantly broke the kiss with a coquettish wet pop and tried to catch his lost breath. Then, leaning against the shelves again, he only dared to peek up when his cheeks stopped burning from what felt like a mixture of acid and a marathon run. Trevor's face might as well have been a mirror, for he looked down on Michael with eyes wide, face red and lips wet and trembling as if he didn't get a grasp of reality yet. Michael couldn't help but let the anxiety scream right to his face in the voice of his stepfather - and there were thousands of things he might have ruined then and there, just because he didn't fight his stupid queer side, because he let himself kiss another man, because by the twisted chain of mistakes he fell from what could have been a good life to longing after a rabid smuggler in the middle of a liquor aisle.

Just as he was about to duck under Trevor's arm and run away from the voice and feelings of shame it brought about, he was stopped by a gentle, almost shy touch of a hot palm on his cheek. The slender fingers brushed against his face in such a delicate way Michael's heart skipped a beat, and closing his eyes, he leaned into the touch, seeking the soothing silence it brought with the warmth. The hand fit his cheek like a glove, Michael mused as he relaxed into slow movements of fingertips on his temples. Right there, at that moment, everything felt so right, so natural. Why has he deprived himself of the delicious heat for three weeks when somewhere deep inside, where the beating of his heart always gave away the truth, he knew he needed it from the start - well, Michael didn't know. Instead, he slid his arms around Trevor's waist and buried his face into his chest.

"Michael?"

The vibrating echo of his name, spoken in such a husky yet caring way, made Michael squeeze his arms around Trevor even tighter. He sought the last bits and pieces of it before he dared to speak up himself, afraid of spoiling the delicious contentment of the moment.

"Let's get out of here."

A gentle kiss on top of his head and long arms lacing his shoulders later, Michael found himself too far from Trevor for comfort. But even with the newly gained distance between them, a quick glance sideways has provided him with a sight of a beaming smile and a fire deep inside Trevor's eyes that made his own lips twitch into a happy upwards bow. As they rolled into the checkout, Michael has noticed the world has changed as well. The depressing shade of green has somehow transitioned into a welcoming warm white; the shadows that they passed by on their way in suddenly bloomed into happy faces. The various packings of goods exploded in all the colours of the rainbow. As Michael and Trevor emerged into the darkness of the parking lot, ready to relive their revelation in thousands of ways, Michael has felt at peace with himself for the first time in forever. The days of the inner night were over.

[yandere-wishes]

𝕁𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕃𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕆𝕝𝕕 𝔾𝕠𝕕𝕤

Warnings: Suicide, homicide, emotional manipulation, death, gore, mention of self-hate.

Edited By: The amazing Peri! @tealyjade-libran​

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓰𝓸𝓭𝓼 𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓭.

Their once towering golden statues, reduced to rubble inside silver alters that were little more than ruins.  

Their glamorous lives debunked as mere legends told by jaded storytellers and avid priests.  

The old gods were dead, with nothing left of them but feeble, sickly descendants whose lives held not an inch of the glory their ancestors once did. Their golden blood was almost all dried out, blood that could never be spilled, now pumped through the veins of deformed creatures hiding away under a school meant for the wicked of heart and broken of mind. 

Idia was no exception to this. 

It made little difference that he was technically the grandson of the infamous God of the underworld, lord of the deceased. It mattered little whatever or whoever his relatives had once been. What great and glorious lives they had led. None of it applied to a century where fantasy had been killed, buried in an unknown grave, and left to decay forevermore. 

All that "golden blood" had now run blue. Trapping itself within the body of a semi-dead demi-god, with neither purpose nor will. 

But lineage is such a hard thing to erase. The little ticks and habits passed down from generation to generation are something ever potent no matter how rotten the binding blood gets. 

Before he was a god before he was a member of Olympus, before he was anything else, Hades had been and always would be the monarch of the eerie, the ghoulish, and the damned. A true lover of anything that was decaying and dying, a maniac for gore and endless bloodshed.

That was the vilest of his traits, the most revolting and the only one that had been passed down to poor Idia. First and foremost, before being the head of Ignihyde, before being NRC's brightest mind, Idia was and would always be a descendant of Lord Hades. 

Meaning that at heart -no matter how tattered it may be- Idia would always be a catalyst for the macabre, a lover of the mania that wafted through the air as another mortal writhed in a pool of their own blood. 

The yearning for carnage, the zest for death, was what still bounded the Shroud family to their creator. 

Maybe that's why he found you all so desirable. Why he fell in love upon hearing such a brittle voice for the   first time. He'd never forget those first words you'd said to him all those nights ago, while you danced on the cemetery floor in the spotlight of the crooked moon. The way you looked at him with dead eyes and the most broken smile he ever had the pleasure of seeing in his infinite life. 

"I really, really, really want to die"

Those words had pierced his heart faster than any arrow from any flying deity from the days of old. 

You were perfect! Someone else who was fed up with this revolting thing known as living! 

You're a glutton for punishment.

A death-obsessed freak.

Just like him...

Idia's mind didn't stop to consider just why you'd uttered such peculiar words. Why you'd said them to someone you barely knew. 

He just fell in love,

right then and there.

Did he fall into such a deep love with you or with the words that he'd heard? 

But that was of little importance, just like everything else, it didn’t matter. 

From that day on, any and all rules that seemed to restrain the new generation of demi-gods from attaining their own grandeur, shattered into a million pieces. Idia was no longer merely existing in a world with no legend nor glory. No, he was now living in a world where anything was possible! Where he would show the earth and the heavens that the golden blood running through his veins was most certainly that of the lord of the dead! 

Just like his grandfather had done, Idia would steal his beloved away from the cruelties of the bright world and seal her away in the protective embrace of his everlasting darkness. 

To Idia, you had become everything, his unmitigated paraphilia reverie, his absolute grotesque prep school daydream. You're exactly what he wants and what he needs.

He would protect you, cherish you, love you!

He would be your Hades, so long as you played your fitting role of his darling Persephone. 

But there's just one thing left...

one last act to repent for tarnishing his grandfather's name for all so long. 

He had to make you his, in the only way a descendant of Hades knew how. 

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

There's a desperate, ailing urge to run away pounding at the back of your mind. Tempting you to kick and punch and scream until your “loving” boyfriend has no choice but to let go of you. 

You want to, oh, how you really really want to...

it's just you can't, you can't, you can't. 

Not in this state, not as the thick red streams of your essence gush out from both your slit wrists. 

Somehow it's draining, leaving your body slumped but your mind wide awake and hyper-alert of every little thing that happens around the two of you. 

Yes two, because he just has to be here too. He has to be the one to end you. You're not sure why it has to be him that finally claims your life. A vague voice in the darkest corners of your mind tries to stutter out a sort of half-witted response, tries to remind you exactly why you wanted to die in the first place, why you had begged Idia to end your life. It fails time and time again. For some reason when it comes time to finally receive the fruit of all your begging, you just don't want it anymore. 

The way he cradles you in his lap is anything but comforting. The jacket of his dorm uniform is glacial and solid in all the wrong ways. It feels like you're leaning against a frozen rock in the aftermath of a snowstorm. His legs keep switching side to side like a cradle that's too distant to fully come to mind. Maybe in his own way, this is meant to be nurturing? Although it's hard to define nurturing when he's the one that slit both your wrists from behind under the pretext that it's what you wanted.

if it wasn't for the fact that almost all feeling had been deprived of your body that you might have found this assortment even more painful. Your bleak eyes could see exactly where his fiery blue hair was sizzling away the flesh of your leg. The blue flames keep blowing out, turning into a transparent black before lighting up once more. 

You choke back a sob, with what little energy you have left, 

"I-I can't do this! Idia--Idia please stop!"

It's too late to turn back now, you know it's too far gone. But maybe, just once, there can be a sort of hope in your life. Maybe, just once, the Faiths will find a way to help you out. 

"SHHH darling this IS what you want, you're just a little confused now. But 

I'll make it better. I'll give you what you want.”

His voice isn't reassuring, it's the exact opposite. It doesn't sound like he knows whether he's convincing himself or attempting to convince you. He's uncertain, doubtful. But, who wouldn't be in a situation like this?

Breaths come in at heavy intakes, with long intervals between each one. You know you're dying, it's expected at this point. The blood is slowing down, there's nothing left to spill out. 

It's black, everything is fading to black. The blue surrounding the two of you, the ghoulish hand wrapped around your midriff, the red that only minutes ago was glowing. It's all going, disappearing into a sort of endless nothingness. 

"Really, I don't see why you were making such a big fuss about this earlier. You're mortal (y/n)...sorry, sorry, you were mortal, but like this you're...well you're something else. Not divine by any means, but I guess infinite in a sort of way." 

You can hear Idia huffing, although it's still a mystery if it's the last or first words you're hearing. The last thing you hear as a human or the first thing you hear as..whatever it is he's made you into. 

"Like this, I...well I can keep you around longer, it-it's better like this for the both of us. The future lord of the dead and a ghost as his lover. It’s right. Correct in some sort of satisfactory way."

It's not, it really isn't "right" or "correct"...it's wrong in every single way. Then again, it's too late for that now. You're the one who drove Idia off the deep end.

 Deep, deep  down were fractured fragments of logic still cling to life. You know this to be true. 

You're the one who turned him into Hades, it's only fair that you be his Persephone now.

[everafterkeiji]

Song: Getting Over You by Lauv

Summary: Unexpected things happen all the time but meeting him was one of the best parts of it.

Pairings: Atsumu Miya x gn!reader

Word count: 7.1k

Tags, Genre: implied enemies to semi lovers! trope, slight angst, curse words, timeskip! Atsumu

A/N: pls i didn't intend to change it last minute but pls let me know if u liked it cuz im still having second thoughts <3

“No- I’m sorry.” Atsumu says as you felt your heart snap and break into two distant pieces. You already limited your expectations but there was a miniature amount of hope that you held onto and that was when you should’ve lost your grip.

“It’s fine, ‘Tsumu.”

It obviously wasn’t. No matter how loud the cries of your heart were, what mattered to you in this moment was to forget it ever happened- to run away and never face another failed trial of love. Atsumu can see past your smile and he hated the way it had to end in a way he avoided. There would be a time where his feelings would be up to confrontation but when it finally happened, he’d became a coward.

He was late to realize what the outcomes could lead to. How certain was he that your paths would meet again? How was he sure that he can revert this scenario in a better way that he wanted when you were losing your hold onto him?

“I have to go but it was nice knowing you, Miya.” Your lips were tugged in a weak smile while he questions why his body lacked the power to move but what resumes to play in his mind was the way his name escaped your lips like it was a curse to say it.

Turning your heel, there was an ache in Atsumu’s head. Was it regret? His decisions tied in knots? His emotions unable to declutter themselves? Hesitantly, he reaches for you. His hand wrapped around yours as you glanced down on his soft skin you used to despise to get near to.

His eyes told you stories that were hard to decipher all at once. His stories didn’t start with a setting, it started and ended with you, not a single page where you weren’t there but it seems like the chapters you had in your own story were being torn off to erase the traces of false hope.

“Y/N, I'm so sorry.” He whispers while you felt his hand tighten to make sure that you could stay- even if it lasted for a minute because he wasn’t sure fate could spare you two another moment.

But then, you softly removed his hold on you while the cold sweat runs down his forehead.

“It’s okay, ‘Tsumu. We were just never meant for each other.”

We could’ve been.

-

“Thank you for your time.” You bid the player as both bow each other as a way of manner. You gathered your bag as the athlete turns to you with a kind smile.

“I enjoyed the interview. I’m impressed at how prepared and professional you are. How long have you been doing this?” He asks, adjusting his outfit while you toss your bag on your shoulder with your camera slung around your neck.

“There was a journalism club back in my high school and I joined in ever since I was a first year.”

“You’re in college now?”

“Yes, sir.” He chuckles at your formality while he gives a pat to your shoulder.

“That’s good to hear. Goodluck with everything- I believe that you’ve got bright things ahead of you.” Your heart fluttered at the compliment while you bid your goodbyes. You step out of the hotel feeling the satisfaction hit you like a prize. The report can finally be simplified into a few more subtle fixes and maybe by 1am, you’d be able to present it to your professor without doubting your work.

Sighing happily, you decided to reward yourself to a lovely lunch with a view you often visited due to a reminiscent feeling that bubbles in your system. After ordering, you sat outside admiring the way the sun sets and leaves a lasting beauty before the moon shows.

The stress was fading from you. You had expected that the project would’ve taken weeks for you to finish knowing that some retired athletes usually avoid questions to why they left the sport they used to love. You had called a few, a struck of confidence was enough to make you do so but they often cancel your request because they either paid attention to your young age or because they weren’t ready to be asked such personal questions about them. You were lucky to score and interview with a well-known athlete whose had his fair share of the spotlight during his early 20’s. Sadly, his retirement was due to an accident and his weak body levels couldn’t bare the adrenaline of the sport. He was kind, patient, and understanding. Ever since he agreed, your attention was on the questions you’d lay upon him seeing that this was an opportunity you can’t waste. After gathering some of his past glories, you narrowed down your interrogation on what remains important to benefit the topic of your project. You were more than proud because of the compliment he had given you and the fact that you might be able to catch a break after a hectic week.

Opening your camera and flicking through the photos to decide on which you were going to use. Suddenly, a photo meets your sight. The peak of blonde and gray hair with a uniform that you missed.

The Inarizaki Volleyball Team.

Most especially, him.

A few years has passed since you’ve seen him and his brother. Osamu’s last interaction with you was filled with nothing but sweet memories and a hug that you could never forget the warmth of, while Atsumu’s last memory with you remained bittersweet- like a sour flavor in his tongue that never left. You tried too hard to forget fragments of your time with him but because of how much work you put yourself through, you lost time to reflect on the moments that didn’t hurt.

Half of your high school life was compressed into confusing parts of your story.

But the chapter that seems to be the most influential part of it, was where you got to meet the blonde who has stomped on your heart.

It was funny to be remembered as a person who had the guts to sneeze during the great Miya setters serve.

“Achoo!”

You immediately cover your face with your handkerchief as your sneeze echoed through the gym making Atsumu’s hand lose its power because he was stunned by the sound, the ball hitting the net instead as he almost hits Aran who was wide eyed that ball went his way. The team could hear Osamu’s ‘uh-oh’ and it was enough for them to know what the setter feels after the unfortunate event.

Atsumu grits his teeth as the other team cheers knowing they got the score while his head jolts to the crowd, aggressively searching for the one who messed up his serve. Even eyeing his fans who got scared by the way he turned his head in their direction.

Meanwhile, you’ve got glares surrounding you as your friend nudges you, letting out an exhale of disbelief that you’ve got death stares.

“We’ll get the next point ‘Tsumu, don’t worry.” Osamu says landing a hand to his brothers' shoulder while Atsumu readies himself for the serve of the opposite team.

“Whatever.”

After that certain match, Atsumu was more than determined to hunt down whoever caused the flunk of his serve. Silly as it is, he’s never heard someone dare to speak during his serve. He’d always let out a hand signal for them to be quiet- let it be known that if someone spoke, he’d be fine with it but a whole sneeze? He’d never let it go, especially when it resonated in his ears.

So, imagine the look on his face when he hears the exact same sound when he was just stopping by his locker.

“Fucking dust.” You said sniffling as you closed the door to your locker, and you were face to face with a wide-eyed Miya Atsumu holding out his finger and pointing it to you, as if he was accusing you of murder.

“It’s you!” He shouts making you raise your eyebrow at him, but the raise of his voice had intimidated you.

“What?” You asked him, not finding a single clue on whatever he was pertaining to.

“You messed up my serve by sneezing.” He says in the tone of ‘as-a-matter-of-fact’ making you lick your lips, a hand to your hip as you looked at him.

“I’m not apologizing for something I can’t control.” You were completely baffled by this man. Sure, you were his classmate, but this was your first year and you barely cared to take notice of all of them, only focusing on your school group that had you busy.

“You could’ve held it for like 2 more seconds at least.” You blinked before letting out a tired exhale as you eye him up and down. The setter of the school's volleyball team, you were aware of that because of how many matches you’ve been dragged to, but he’s never come up to you before.

This was a whole other introduction.

“Miya, right?” You asked him as he steps forward, looking down on you with a sly smirk.

“I guess I’m sorry.”

Atsumu stays silent for a few seconds but returns to his angry pout as he continues to stare at you.

“What’s your name?” Atsumu asks, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Y/N.”

From thereon, it looked like your life’s plot had spiked up. Atsumu was- you could call it as a miscalculation. Someone so loud and had his ego constantly fed was not someone you would stick around due to your strict schedule of balancing schoolwork and papers from your club. It was like a bump in the road wherein the objects in your car would’ve been juggled around because of the impact- that's what it felt like. Thinking that two years would’ve passed by like a breeze, time slowed down with him. The constant bickering and arguments were embedded in you like a tattoo. The way his cackle would echo through your ears when he’d struck a nerve to you, the way he’d purposely call you nicknames you swore you hated, to the same jokes can be dragged on for hours, and how every fiber of your body promised you’d leave when you’ve had enough.

But promises were always broken.

You stuck around and he did too. Atsumu provided you with his trust and company whenever you needed it. It’s a pleasant experience but it surely wasn’t at its best. What comes with it were headaches and harsh words but having a person who knew you until graduation and stayed was a different reason. He was a familiar, a person who isn’t a call away when you needed it but being in their presence would give you a pinch of comfort.

Maybe the only thing you can thank Atsumu for is getting to know his twin brother.

You accidentally sent a text to Osamu about you panicking about a missing file to be passed the following day and Osamu was up and ready to help you locate it. After finding it, you decided to treat him for being a life saver and he of course, was having the time of his life for the free food- it was also his favorite restaurant at that moment. During this time, you’ve got to talk more about each other. Months pass now Osamu and you were way better friends than you and his brother.

You and Osamus’ bond were the type that was just so serene, hardly any type of judgement when you’d bring up a problem, and all secrets were kept tight.

Osamu was the shoulder you can lean on, while Atsumu’s would shove your head away when you do so.

Your friendship drifted away when Atsumu stabbed your heart with the words “No.” and “I’m sorry.” You hesitated that day, to dial Osamu’s phone the way you used to, but it never happened. Your sobs muffled your voice and if you called him, he’d never understand a word that you’d say.

The opposite is that Osamu would understand everything.

Because you and Atsumu mirrored the same amount of pain.

He’d never seen his brother so- ruined. Atsumu’s thin walls didn’t shield his shouts of sorrow while Osamu withstood every bit of the torture show his brother had. Checking him on the next day, the setter was fast asleep with bags under his eyes and a red nose, clutching onto his pillow so tightly.

Osamu knew that day that the damage has been done and not a single band aid would mend the two shattered hearts.

-

Atsumu strolls to the around looking for a restaurant along with his teammates. The sun has fully set making the streets of Japan light up with how busy and crowded they were. Bokuto and Hinata were busy pointing at stands that had their favorite slabs of meat while Sakusa trails behind them with a mask, wanting to be removed from the push of people. As the eyes of the blonde land on a certain stand with multiple notes stuck onto a board, he smiles fondly. He then sees two kids running with smiles on their lips as they held each other's hand, obviously excited to explore the night.

“Come on, don’t be a wuss.” Atsumu says as you rolled your eyes and thought hard about his hand that was held out in front of you. Atsumu grunts before taking your hand in his before you could even decide properly. You followed his lead as he walked you through the sea of people. You were nervous that he had left practice to accompany you. Observing you from afar, you looked devastated, but you continued the rest of the day with a smile like nothing happened. Seeing that you looked dull talking to Karou, he pulled you away from whatever void of sadness you surrounded yourself in.

“Atsumu shouldn’t you be at practice?” You asked sighing, still with his hand in yours as you stopped by a stand.

“I should be but whatever that Karou did is obviously hurting you, you idiot.” Your eyes widened at his statement and this reaction confirmed his suspicions as anger forms inside of him. What could that boy have done to get you this upset? Did he physically hurt you? Atsumu hated how he cared- it wasn’t his business to meddle with but the frown on your lips was something he wanted to remove from you.

“Thank you.” You muttered as he buys you the same thing he ordered. He sees how you weren’t as colorless as before. The lights of the night brought saturation to your features as his eyes adored every feature of yours.

“It’s nothing.”

“Atsumu-san?” Hinata asks, tapping the boy on the shoulder while the blonde awakens from his escape.

Atsumu looks around once more, seeing that there wasn’t a trace of you, he moves on.

Like he was supposed to do in the first place.

-

“For our new assignment, why don’t we take the vice versa of your last project. Retirement is inescapable but why not find the reason they’d got into the sport. What makes it so exhilarating and unforgettable? That will be our topic this week. I’m giving you a week for interviews, photos, and articles. Video format is more suited for this task. Is that clear?” You all nodded as you wrote down the list of possible athletes to meet, jotting down an outline of some key points to remember.

“A tip for you all: look for the younger generations. It doesn’t matter to me what status the athlete stands in right now, it could be a friend or even a child. What I’m looking for the depths of the details in your research.” The professor stands making all of you bid him goodbye as he walks out of the room. You gathered your notebooks, sighing that you won’t have the time to properly rest- an exam was near right at the submission of your new task. You realized that you needed to sort out the things you were required to do before everything would pile up and get tangled in the short amount of time.

Who should I interview? God, everyone is so busy at this season. You thought. It’s true- you realized that matches were always lined up by this month. You also had classes to attend to and your mind could collapse at any given moment. You were more than worried about organizing your time properly but the feeling that you’d have several sleepless nights haunts you. You wished he could have extended the submission- though it didn’t get any better since after exams you tended to be drained from studying all night.

Going back to your apartment, you decided to put sticky notes all over your wall to help you sort out your priorities. Tomorrow would be Saturday meaning that you’ve done all the works to be passed on Monday and that you had zero meetings or classes. Saturday and Sunday would be divided to work parts, by Monday you should be up and running to work again.

You couldn’t let go of this group. It had given you countless of opportunities- even an offering to be an editor at a well-known magazine agency. You were in queue for the letter, so you decided to continue with the tasks of the group. You were thankful that you got used to the craziness of it all. The ability to multitask, to put the phone down once in a while, managing your time, those were just one of the benefits of getting used to it. The things you hated was that you barely had time for yourself. To lounge and just do nothing never met with what you were doing. You envied how some people from your group would plan some hang outs during a busy week and you always questioned how they managed to do it all without panicking.

You yawned as you felt your stomach growl at the scent of the delicious street food. Seeing that you fell short on money because the amount that was in your wallet was enough for your way home, it meant you’d have to wait to eat dinner until you came home. Letting out a groan you decided to walk your way even if you get shoved. God, you were starving and exhausted. The emotions were starting to fill you the more you moved. It didn’t help that everyone was so loud. You could hear the sound of the cackles from the drunken men in the corner, the cries of the baby that brought irritation to your eardrums and even the off-key singing of a (possibly) drunk girl at karaoke. You just wanted to cover your ears and crawl back to your bed not caring if you’d only be able to get 2 or 3 hours of sleep.

As you walked, you felt a boiling pile of liquid drip to your stomach making you let out a yelp as your clothes were drenched in the coffee stain that you despised. The liquid got to your skin making you wince at just how it impacted on your skin. You felt your eyes water as the woman tried to pat away the drink but instead made it worse because you wanted the fabric to be away from you as possible- which was the opposite of what she was doing.

“Oh my god- I'm so sorry.” She kept saying while patting your abdomen while you tried to wave her off, but she kept going making the tears flow from your eyes as you chose to walk away, covering your face at how humiliated you were. You sobbed in your hands as you bumped into someone before removing them from your face to find a bench to sit on but seeing that people were already turning their heads to look at you, you’ve had enough already.

Finally finding your bus stop, you sat down burying your face in the palm of your hands sobbing as your mind replays how you’ve made a fool out of yourself for the last time. Everything was going terribly and you didn’t know how to control it without losing your cool. Sure, you’ve managed to escape the people but the feeling is still badly glued to you.

“Is everything okay?”

Someone asks but the voice became a blur to you because you were so focused on your sobs and the unstable breathing.

“Go away.” You whispered but there was a weight added to your left side as you kept your face hidden behind your hands.

“I shouldn’t have asked.” The man says looking down before standing up to leave the bench, making you intake in a sharp exhale, relieved he left.

“Why does everything have to be so fucking difficult? How am I gonna interview a volleyball player at this state?” You rambled on thinking that guy has exited your business and was free from companion.

“I mean- we’re not close- but I’m a volleyball player?”

You wiped your eyes as your heart started to run a mile now that you’ve familiarized yourself with his voice.

Lifting your head, there in front of you was the one thing that your heart had wished to see.

“Atsumu?”

His eyes widen as his chest expands, his heart growing ten times bigger than it was while it beats like a drum on heavy metal song.

“Y/N- I didn’t know- wow.” Breathless, speechless, weak- those were the words that defined your emotions. You wanted to pass out- to act like you just mistaken him for a person but he was real and you had a hard time believing it.

“Atsumu?" God, he missed it. The way his name would fall of those taunting lips of yours. The tone in your voice leading him back to the memories that he couldn’t push away.

You had to believe it. There was no other way that your starvation can make you this delusional. You called his name like you were unsure that he was ever real- like a character your brain had developed to cope with your sorrows. You dared to touch him, maybe if you did it would be a wisp of air but you were scared that if you reached out to him, you could feel his skin and remember how you wanted it to be within your grasp all the time.

Perhaps it’s a dream but this time you’d never want to wake up if this was the only way you can be together.

“Y/N..I- how are you?” How could he manage to act so civil? Your presence shocked him like electricity in his veins, pumping his heart at an unusual speed. His voice was unsteady and low, experiencing the same thoughts like you.

It’s like he was dragged back to your last encounter. Seeing your eyes filled with so much agony and how you looked so torn from his rejection, it’s the same look that you had now. It’s like his eyes were playing a risky game with him but he couldn’t complain since he’s been wanting to see you ever since you let go.

“Well, I’m burned-out that’s for sure.” You said with a light chuckle as he sits back down, wondering if it’d be alright to be close to you.

“What’s this interview about?” He asks, fiddling with the strings of his jacket while you tore your eyes away from him because you knew the admiration for him would erupt anytime soon.

“What got athletes into the sport in the first place.” Atsumu places his finger under his chin, thinking deeply about what offer he just made.

It’d mean that he could be in the same room with you for more than the hours he spent crying to himself but why waste the chance? You needed it- heck you wouldn’t be this distraught if you weren’t so affected by it. There was a never-ending list of things to do but meeting with Atsumu wasn’t even in your list of expectations because you were over with hoping into something that takes a miracle.

But he is the miracle.

“Atsumu..I don’t want you to see me like this.” You said, looking down on your hands that were on your lap, letting your hair fall in front of you to avoid his concerned gaze.

“What do you mean?”

“I haven’t seen you in years, this is not what I planned to look like when I first see you.” Atsumu feels his heart frown at how low you spoke of yourself, but he understood. If you saw him in the state that you were in right now, he too would feel like he could’ve done or look better, even at least handle the situation without crumbling apart.

He knew you were in a troubled place of your mind but he just wonders where you could talk about why everything fell apart.

He missed the way it was casual to talk to you. Maybe an insult as a greeting, or a flick to the arm but he never expected to talk to you with his heart dropping in your hands. He just couldn’t forget the way you’d let him go that day during graduation, it’s almost like the sensation was still lingering around his palm even if he held a ball.

He just wished he said yes, only then, you’d be meant for each other.

“Do you mean it?” You asked sighing, not baring the weight of his silence. The pace of his heart quickens as he starts to worry if this was the confrontation that he held back all these years.

“The interview.” He was more than glad to do it. He was thankful that you weren’t talking about the bad memories or the circle of tension you two were in.

He looks at you while another strike was given to his heart seeing you this way. He’d do everything to bring back the color in your features.

“Of course.”

You smiled at his words as you both stand up but you felt conscious about the stain that was still stuck to your shirt making you desperately try to hide it by pulling your bag to the messed up section. Atsumu didn’t know that the person he had followed was the same person that got coffee dipped down on them. He didn’t recognize you at first because you had your hands covering your cries. He was worried for you when you ran off but when he knew it was you, he couldn’t believe if it was luck or a granted wish.

“Just wear this.” He says, handing you placing his jacket on your shoulders as your heart flutters at how he looked at you, completely filled with sincerity and the way his hand stayed on your shoulder.

“What the fuck do you want?” He asks you with a knife-like stare, purposely bumping harshly into you.

“Wow Miya, I was just walking.” You said returning the same fuel that he had.

“Then get out of my way then.”

“Thank you.” You said smiling lightly. He catches a glimpse of your smile and he feels his world light up at the sight of it.

I missed you.

“So where to?” He asks as you walk beside him just like old times. His height still intimidating you but it was still difficult to believe that this was the same Atsumu you had fallen for in high school.

“My apartment. We missed the bus so I hope it’s okay for you to wait.”

“I can always drive us there.” You’ve never whipped your head faster than this moment. You always trusted Osamu when he said that Atsumu couldn’t be a better driver than his own brother because Atsumu liked to rev up the engine like one of those scenes in a movie.

With the thought in your mind, you laughed.

Atsumu stops walking as he lets himself dwell at the sound of it.

Then there was a smile that he couldn’t contain.

“Sorry for laughing, ‘Tsumu. Never pictured you to have a car earlier than ‘Samu that’s all.” You explained as he chuckles, continuing to be beside you, a place that he finds himself to be the happiest.

“Yeah yeah I get it- I’m a little careless but not all the time y’know?” He says while he leads the way. The breeze felt comfortable now, it had a tweak of coldness but maybe it was just the atmosphere of you two.

When you walked to his car and told him your address, there was another silence but you tried to tell yourself that this was just Atsumu. Nothing to be worried about because you’ve known him for too long to act like all distant.

This is Atsumu- that's every reason that there is to feel nervous around him.

“How long have you been living there?” He asks while you started to feel just how badly you wanted to give in to sleepiness. You shifted once in a while to control yourself from falling asleep in his damn car. Every urge to just lay quiet for a while but you knew this would lead to a deep slumber.

“Ever since graduation.” You answered, annoyed that his jacket was inviting you to lay there and sleep away your stress though you were scared that once you wake up- Atsumu would be gone again.

“And you didn’t call to tell me about it?” He jokes but the chuckle that he expected never came because he knew just how awkward it’d be if you actually called just for that sole reason. Atsumu bites his lip at his failed attempt to drag the conversation on.

Then you giggled.

“I wanted to but I wouldn’t wanna bother the famous MSBY player.” You said smiling at him, proud that he continued on. You knew from Osamu of course, a single update when he had mentioned how well his restaurant had become, you also saw them in a poster once, even recognizing a few of his past opponents.

“Well, it would be a shame.”

There you are.

You finally arrived at your apartment and again you felt the slice of satisfaction as you removed your shoes and placed them on the table. You were partly thankful that your apartment was clean since you never have the time to spend a whole day in it only coming home late at night. Atsumu looks around as you prepare him a drink and a few snacks-it'd be rude not to.

Atsumu sees the photos where you won several awards for your loyalty and hardwork at your club. He sees how time passes and you grew into a version of you that he finds even more flawless then before. Your equipment and how everything was organized on your desk, he knew how much things changed because he used to see you doubt yourself every time you’d finish a paper but now you won awards because of them.

“Atsumu, is it alright if I shower real fast?” You asked while he raises a brow at you confused that you had to ask for his permission.

“Of course, Y/N- you didn’t have to ask.” He said chuckling while he sits on the couch, letting his eyes wonder around.

“I promise I’ll be back.”

“Please don’t rush yourself. Take yer time. “ He says while you smile at him before dashing to your room to gather new clothes, feeling like you’ve won a lottery with how happy you were to remove the coffee drenched top, tossing it to your laundry bin while you step into the shower enjoying the way the water decorated your skin, cleansing it from all the worries. While Atsumu scrolls on his phone to ease himself from the anxiousness. His finger would casually glide over Osamu’s phone number, to ask him what to do.

After a few minutes, you stepped out of the shower like a whole new person. You saw the way Atsumu’s eyes lit up when you walked in but you pushed the thought away. He pats the seat next to him while you grabbed your notebook and pen, ready to scribble down the questions.

“Are there any uncomfortable questions you’d want to avoid?” You asked him while he shakes his head while you took note of the possible questions.

“Is it okay for the interview to be filmed?” He nodded while you leaned onto the pillow, sighing happily at how you’ve managed to calm down from the pile of embarrassment earlier.

“Thank you for doing this, ‘Tsumu- really you don’t know how much I appreciate you for this.” You said leaning your cheek on the side of the couch as Atsumu copies your actions staring at you lovingly.

“You’re welcome, Y/N.” He says smiling while you returned to write a list of questions for him. With every time you look down on your notebook, Atsumu’s eyes never left you while his mind recalls every moment where he msised the opportunity to tell you just how beautiful you were.

Soon, you’ve fallen asleep while he lets the feeling sink in.

I’ve never wanted to hold you more than I do now.

He sighs before placing the blanket on your body while he kneels down and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, his finger tracing your cheek.

“You’ll never know how much I missed you.” He whispers while you shifted in your sleep meeting his face. Before he stands up, he feels you reach for him while he’s left surprise at your touch.

“Stay please.” You whispered while he smiles weakly, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“I always will.”

-

The morning comes and you felt the blush creep on your cheeks remembering how easily you felt asleep. You wondered if Atsumu stayed, if he left- you couldn’t really blame him. So yawning and stretching when you woke up, you certainly didn’t expect to see Atsumu cooking you some breakfast. You couldn’t even move your legs, every part of you has gone stiff just admiring the way he moves.

“Hey, good morning.” He greets with a wave, a spatula in his hand, a bright smile tugged on his lips.

“Atsumu- oh god I’m so sorry.” You said as you went to him. You caught a whiff of what he was cooking and you swore you could’ve drooled knowing you didn’t even got the chance to eat dinner. Atsumu knew that of course so he called Osamu up in the morning to serve you the best breakfast he could ever make. He was initially supposed to make you dinner but you fell asleep before he could do it so this was his rebound.

“Idiot, it’s fine. Just sit down on the table and I’ll prepare the food.”

“Atsumu-“

“Just go, Y/N. I promise it’s okay- you deserve to rest before you work again.” You couldn’t even think properly with his words. It was so minimum but it was something you’d forget to do- rest. Hearing him remind you that sets a new feeling in your system. You did obey him though, you sat on the table as he even handed you coffee for him and you, placing the breakfast on the table. God, he was everything. You thought that after a few years, you two would completely drift apart but it seems like you were wrong for the hundredth time.

“Please don’t even think about ways to thank me, it’s nothing to me. “ He says taking the seat next to you while you place the food on his plate. You couldn’t even utter a word at how grateful you were for him and he’d be happy to get used to seeing you first thing in the morning.

“Atsumu, after breakfast can we have a run down of the questions first?” You asked him, growing more comfortable.

“Yeah sure.”

-

You sat on the couch, placing your camera on the table aligning it to the best possible angle as Atsumu sits down in front of you. You had your notebook on your lap as he praises how you looked so professional even if it was just a practice.

“Ready?” You asked while he nods with a smile as you pressed the camera to shoot so you could keep your composure, even if you struggled to.

“What does the sport mean to you?” You asked him, your eyes glimmering with the suns rays hitting it perfectly, while the words were removed from Atsumus mind. Seeing his hesitation, you decided to reassure him.

“It’s fine if you can’t answer straight away. I can always change the question if you like.” You commented, smiling at him to make sure he doesn’t feel rushed to answer. He nods, still not finding the exact same words to describe what he wanted to say.

“I’ll change the question for now.” You said while he let’s out a sigh before listening to you once again.

“What was the biggest struggle in your career?” He sends you a worried stare but his mind nearly bursts at his answer.

“Getting over you.”

You dropped your pen on the couch as Atsumu continued to speak since this was the answer his heart was sure of responding to.

“I tried to forget- I did. For every year that passes, the more fucking harder it gets to act like I didn’t love you back when you walked away.”

“Atsumu-“

“I know I said no- I was too late to realize how stupid I was to be scared of falling for you. I couldn’t let myself be the man who could love you when all this time I tried to hate you because I knew I would hurt you- and I already did.”

We get hurt a lot but it doesn’t mean I won’t come back to you.

Love grew and died during your second year at Inarizaki.

Before Atsumu, you found Karou. A boy who was a new recruit to your group whose helped you multiple times and has shared a conversation with you about your similar likes. There was this strange infatuation with him that even Osamu had to question how deep was the bite of love on you. You’ve fallen, of course. Occasionally leaving notes on his desk to just let him know how he made your day but it never worked. He would only paste the note on another persons desk like it was nothing. Not even getting the reaction you wanted, it felt too normal when it shouldn’t be. Realizing how this was just rejection in the shadows, you gave up. Obviously heart broken at the mere thought of how your chances were blown away. When Atsumu saw how gloomy you were that day, he had to show you how much you didn’t need Karou and there grew a different bond between the both of you.

And with a bond like that, you became attached to him.

It was all becoming clearer and clearer as you realized that you fell for the wrong person first.

“You’re too stupid to fall for a douche like him. “ He says kicking the rock that was in front of him.

“You’re lucky with that admirer of yours, Miya. I’ve never seen someone stick around you for so long.” You teased. It’s true the half of the twin hearthrob has gotten himself a sincere admire. It wasn’t one of his crazy fans- this was a person who genuinely cared for him and the words on every note he received would make the poor boy blush uncontrollably and you envied how he’s yet to realize that he too was falling for this unknown person.

While you two were oblivious to the slip up of the universe, it took a toll on you.

Because the notes you’d leave on Karous desk, always ended up on Atsumu’s instead.

“I wanna meet them so bad. Just to see if they actually care and it’s not a prank. They haven’t given me a note and it’s been what a month? I doubt it was ever real.”

“With the amount of effort they gave, I’m sure it was real.”

It’s real for me even if it shouldn’t be.

There wasn’t any other way then to accept the feelings that stayed on your skin. The moments where you thought that being around Atsumu would bring you stressful banters and more, it turned into butterflies that surrounded your room. You chose to deny it at first but remembering that graduation and good-byes were near, you had to tell him at some point.

And when you did, you poured your heart out and not even a single drop was caught.

“Last words before I forget your dumbass?” He taunts while you felt your sweat drip down the side of your forehead as you couldn’t control it anymore. You wondered if there was a simple word to describe just how much you adored him without turning it into a whole speech. This was it- you had to do it or else you’d end up being stuck on the feeling of loving him.

“I..like you Atsumu and I can’t say good-bye without telling you.”

Then there was the awful silence that he gave making you clutch onto your shirt, preparing you for the worst.

But by the way he looked so terrified and frozen, you knew.

“Atsumu?”

“No- I’m sorry.”

“And I don’t know what I’d do if I let you leave again.” He whispers as he leans closer to you, taking your hands in his while your ability to speak has been taken away by how gentle he was as his thumb caresses your hand and a look that looked so fragile.

He takes his hand and cups your cheek, pulling you close to him as his vulnerability increases.

“Do you feel the same too?” He was being so careful because a wrong choice of a word could make it all fall apart again and you could feel how tense he was but he holds you like a gem- something so beautiful that it’d cost him his life if he ever dropped you.

Your hand lands on the same hand that was on your cheek while Atsumu’s eyes widen remembering how you neglected to hold his hand before.

But it stayed.

Closing your eyes and melting in his touch, you spoke.

“I never stopped loving you, Atsumu.”

He lets his forehead rest on yours, a smile on his lips, who was soon to be on yours.

“Then be mine all over again.”

[scriptaed]

bygones of the sun. 01 (m)

genre: angst/fluff/(future)smut || dance captain!hoseok, bad boy!au, uni!au

pairing: reader x hoseok;

length: 10.4k;

synopsis: Jung Hoseok was once the sweetheart of the school, the dance captain whom every girl, including you, can’t help but fall head over heels for. But like the force of the ever-glowing sun, everything that rises must also set. A year of inactivity later and he’s now the school’s resident bad boy. You’re a firm believer of allowing the past be the past, and yet you can’t help but wonder where the risen sun has gone into hiding—because perhaps its shadows have out-shined its own radiance.

a/n: a repost of my old fic!

There are different types of crushes in the small world of your university; some crush on the most materialistic things like his looks, outfits, and wealth, whereas others crush for the sake of blending in with the rest of their friends whom never seem to stop fawning over him as he walks by without a clue of their batting eyes. And even though you’re just one of the countless girls waiting and watching and hoping for just a mere glimpse of him around campus, you like to think that you’re different from the rest.

Jung Hoseok is one of the very rare few who has managed to capture your heart. He’s the captain of your school’s dance club, the son in law any parent can only dream of in the the sweetest of dreams, and the notorious heartthrob whose mere presence melts any girl into a puddle of unrequited, mushed feelings. And out of all the choices you have in this ever growing community of yours, you just have to fall for him—the most popular one in the market.

From the light jump in his every step which bobs to the inaudible beats echoing in his eardrums both inside and outside of practice to the mysterious dark tint laid hidden beneath his warm, brown eyes which makes you internally scream for help if you’re even lucky enough to meet his gaze, everything he does makes it impossible to deny the overwhelming charisma that just oozes from his very being.

But despite all the unbelievably attractive sides to him which pulls girls at every corner of the school, what truly captivates you isn’t his alluring gaze or his breathtaking dances but rather the subtle, heartwarming sides to him not many know him for. The way he stops in the middle of the hallway to help a stranger gather the dozens of pencils someone else had carelessly knocked out of his hands, the way he welcomes each and every student to the dance club regardless of their popularity or experience, and the way he smiles as bright as the sun from ear to ear even though you just know the burdens that come with being the upcoming dance captain must be gnawing away at his very patience are what makes him different from the others.

A year and a half of crushing on this boy whose league is on an entirely separate level of yours, and you still have no regrets…

...even if to him, you’re just another one of his many fangirls.

Nonetheless, you still remember the exact day you fell for him. The fateful night starts on October 20th, just another usual Friday after class.

-

Striding down the hallways with notebooks in one hand and a bottle of water in the other, you take a deep breath and sigh to release the pent up stress and tension that had crept up into your aching shoulders. You’ve just finished sitting in on a one and a half hour long lecture before gathering your things as you bid your good friend, Junghwa, goodbye and exit the musty classroom. The halls are much dimmer than usual due to the school’s constant delay of fixing the flickering ceiling lights, but luckily the fluorescent light flooding through the clear windows from the rising moon is enough to keep you from heading astray on your way back to the dorms.

If it weren’t for Junghwa, you would’ve dropped out long ago and opted for your daily naps after class, because after all, night lectures have become the bane of your existence—or at least up until the few hours left of tonight. Because at the end of the hall is the dance studio where the renowned dancer of the school practices in every Friday night, and what awaits you at the end of the lengthy hall is a memory which will continue to burn in every second of your conscious for the years to come.

Approaching the light which rushes out of the ajar door of the practice room, you slow down your pace, hide behind the mask of the door, and peek your head out to glimpse at the charming boy you’ve heard of from all corners of the school. You’ve done this countless times before; the blaring, bass heavy music which blasts from the room and into the halls became the first reason to your rising curiosity, and the undeniable force and tug of your heart which pulls you towards the room in anticipation of the closing proximity between you and the boy becomes your second, inexhaustible reason to your growing affections. And usually you’d take a quick peek and gape in awe before departing from your short detour to head home, but tonight, things seem to take an unexpected turn—whether for the better or worse, you still can’t decipher.

“Are you going to keep standing there or are you going to come in and dance with me?” the boy teases with a light, playful tone to his out of breath voice. 

The swift, unbelievably intricate movements of his manage to strike you silent as you stare on in awe, a few seconds passing by as you failed to register that the dart-like focus of his intense gaze at the mirrors before him had disappeared when he paused his routine to divert his attention to the girl shyly standing behind the doors.

“H-huh?” you stutter with widened eyes.

“Are you here to spectate or dance?” he grins while repeating the question. With cheeks raised and radiance flashing from his award worthy smile, sweat trickles down his forehead to his temples and peaks through the hanging armholes of his muscle tank. And before you knew it, all the air within your lungs are knocked out and any form of coherent words are slipped from your scrambled mind. He gives you a throaty chuckle, his eyes forming elegant crescents as he did so, and walks over towards you to swing the door wide open. His sudden actions catch you off guard as the loss of balance causes you to tumble forward into the room. “Wanna join me?”

His hands are reached out towards you for you to take and an expectant grin adorns his soft, smooth lips, but there is nothing neither you nor him can do to snap you out of your daze. You point at yourself and peer up at him with blankly blinking eyes, knees feeling weak, and butterflies fluttering nonstop in your stomach. “M-me?”

“I don’t see anyone else here,” he chortles, peeking out into the hallway as though to search for your partner in crime. He turns back at you to grin even wider, one hand on his hips and the other running through his dark brown hair. “Yeah, you.”

“I-um-I can’t dance,” you blurt out with the shake of your head. A gulp runs down your knotted throat with every second he gazes down at you with the warm, half lidded eyes of his from above. Now you understand everything everyone had been swooning over; a mere glance of his and you’re already melting onto the floor in awe. He’s simply oozing of charm.

“That’s fine. I can teach you,” he assures you with his velvety voice which only makes your heart flip a thousand times. He grabs your hand and engulfs you with a kind of warmth indescribable by words, pulling you farther into the room and gently kicking the door closed behind the two of you in the empty dance studio. His slender, lengthy fingers intertwine so perfectly with yours and his hold is so firm and unhesitant that you’re forced to convince yourself that he’s either done this a thousand times before or he’s not even a bit as phased by your presence as you are by his.

The boy gently pulls you towards the center of the wooden dance floor before turning the both of you to face the mirrors which surrounds and lines every wall in the room. “The name’s Hoseok,” he chimes, needlessly introducing himself even though over half the students in this damn school knows of him. “You?”

“Huh? Me?” your eyes pop open as you foolishly gawk at him in silence. Is the Jung Hoseok really asking you for your name? Does this mean the two of you are officially acquainted? What will the rest of the girls do if they are to find out about tonight?

“Have you forgotten your name already?” Hoseok laughs raising his brow and stretching his already grinning lips in a gesture to patiently wait for your answer. The longer you lock eyes with him, the hotter your cheeks become. You swear looking into the mirrors will only confirm your suspicion and your heart rate skyrockets just thinking that Hoseok can more than likely notice the burning red tints of your cheeks.

“Oh, um, Y/N,” you bashfully glance down at the ground.

“Well, Y/N,” his gaze never leaves you as he chimes, “let’s learn how to dance, shall we?”

Time passes by quicker than you wished for it to be, albeit the moments when he passes on the spotlight to you and intently observes your very own dance moves manages to drag each second into agonizingly slow ticks of the clock as your cheeks burn brighter than the sun on a clear summer day.

The music continues to loop in the background as he strides around you in circles, the heavy bass vibrating from the blaring speakers in the four corners of the room and making its presence known in your eardrums. With his fingers cupping his chin and his eyes narrowing to scan your still body up and down, he intently observes and pinpoints corrections needed to be made of the pose you’re striking.

“Not bad, not bad,” Hoseok muses with the bob of his head. Taking a step forward, he gently props his fingers under your right elbow to raise your arm an inch higher. “There. Perfect.”

He’s circling around you, poking at your arms and nudging your legs with his feet until finally reaching a satisfactory point in perfecting this split second of a two minutes worth of choreography. Through your peripherals, you can see the crease between his furrowed brows and the dark focus of his eyes gazing down at your straining legs, and you can’t help the blood which rushes to your cheeks and flows from your pumping heart. Something about the way he’s so passionate of his work, so patient in sharing it with others outside of his world of dance, and so focused in perfecting every single second of a routine neither he nor you would be performing in front of others, something about his everything makes your heart hammer against your chest and your lungs struggle for oxygen.

With sweat trickling down his drenched bangs and eyes down at the floor, it’s impossible for you not to succumb to your inner desires as a mysterious force constantly pulls your line of sight towards his. And so being the indiscrete person you are, you take a quick glimpse at Hoseok and it takes everything in you not to burst out in squirms from the overwhelming butterflies which flutter throughout your entire system. You’re averting your eyes between him and the mirror lying a few feet in front of you when they finally lock gazes with his on its fifth round trip back to paradise.

“Is there something on my face?” he quirks a brow, releasing a small chuckle from his crooked smile. He cups your chin with his fingers and turns your head towards the mirror in front of you. “You should be looking there, not here.”

The knot in your constricted throat prevents you from an easy gulp as your widened eyes meet the ones in your reflection. Did Hoseok really just catch you staring at him with ogling eyes? Why on earth are you stupid enough to even consider the possibility of getting away with your more than obvious glances? But before you’re allowed enough time to panic over your idiocy, Hoseok takes a few steps back before breaking the silence held between the two of you.

“Ba, ba, ba,” Hoseok calls out the beats to the track echoing in the enclosed room, swiveling through the choreography like it’s just another one of the routines he can do in his sleep. And so, you follow along with his motions, putting every bit of effort and courage into your movements in an attempt to keep up with him.

Staring at the mirror, it’s impossible for you not to notice the evident gap in skills between you and the soon to be dance captain. And to be quite frank, there’s nothing anyone can do to prevent your confidence from crumbling and your self consciousness from growing regardless of how reassuring and patient Hoseok has been treating you throughout the session.

But even through all that, even through how tightly clamped your lips are and how flared your cheeks are in embarrassment, a part of you manages to convince yourself that this is a once in a lifetime experience. It’s better to be teased down to your very bones than to catch split second long glimpses of this boy for the rest of your duration in school. Not many get to be as close to Hoseok as you are at this point in time; so as much as you’re mentally beating yourself for your major mistake, a larger part of you is grateful enough to have Hoseok’s teasingly lighthearted laughs become soft music to your ears.

Seconds become minutes, minutes become hours, and before you know it, the both of you are sprawled across the dance floor and panting for your life.

“I’m exhausted,” you barely manage to say through countless huffs. Your cheeks are burning red for a different reason now; somehow along the way, Hoseok had managed to pull you out of your shell and convince you to show him everything you’ve got without a trace of worry in your head. Wiping your dry forearm across your forehead drenched with your sweat, you let out a loud sigh along with the tension piled within your chest. “I’m sorry captain, but I don’t think I can move.”

Hoseok turns his head as he lied down next to you on the floor, giving you a throaty chuckle at your remark. “I think you’ve done enough to deserve a break,” he presses his lips into a lopsided smile, “let’s call it a day then.”

“Thank God,” you breathe out, shutting your eyes and allowing yourself to finally rest in peace.

“But in return...” he interrupts your short lived rush of relief, and your eyes pop open with worry. He lightly cackles at your reaction, a smile stretching from ear to ear plastering across his face. “...you have to join the club.”

“You’re kidding,” you scoff, gawking at him despite the batting eyes of his. You cross your arms over your chest and quickly shake your head. “No way. I only agreed to tonight’s session because you literally dragged me into this.”

“Only because you were standing outside and peeking in,” he defends himself with widened eyes, as though he’s being accused of the highest of crimes. “I asked you what you were doing, but you didn’t say anything! So I thought that maybe you were just too shy to ask about the club. It’s happened to lots of girls I see standing outside the room.”

You press your lips into a thin line and internally point out the flaw in his theory; the numerous girls he has spotted in the past weren’t there for club membership, rather they were there for the most clueless boy there could be… unless sightseeing the extravagant view of the upcoming dance captain counts as a club.

“Surely, you don’t actually think they’re here for that, do you?” you frown.

He breaks into a short series of laughs, looking up at the ceiling with wandering eyes before turning back to return home to the gaze of you.

“No, but I like to think it’s for that reason,” he flashes the smile you’ve come to fall head over heels over and something in your chest falls when your heart practically melts into a puddle of indescribable feelings. He reaches out his pinky towards you, an expectant grin pairing up with the sunny expression of his crescent, smiling eyes. “So, is it a promise, Y/N?”

Pursing your lips, you stare at the long, slender pinky just an arm’s length away from you and shift to his glimmering eyes which never leaves yours for even a second. Even with the sweat glistening on every inch of his face and his sweaty hair slicked into narrow bundles of locks, he’s still smiling through it all like there’s no tomorrow. With him, you no longer believe in the cliches of the world. Terms like the calm before the storm are insignificant, because it’s simply inaccurate. Hoseok is the definition, the proof of that very belief; he breezes through the storm like the sun hidden beneath the gray clouds looming over the dark sky, and regardless of the storm’s havoc, the ball of everglowing shine retains its claim to its right of day. He’s practically as beautiful as the sun—no, he is the sun of your small universe.

And you just can’t deny the order of law, the undeniable forces of Mother Nature.

So without another second to waste, you reach your hand out to hook your pinky firmly around his; and it fits perfectly like the gravitational force between the moon and the sun.

“Alright, I promise.”

And just like you promised, you grab your first chance to fulfill your side of the offer on the very next Monday which arrives. Throughout the past few days since that fateful Friday night, you've been praying and jumping and squirming around your dorm with endless jitters that came from reminiscing over the two hours of time frame you had shared with Hoseok. The scene persisted to replay in the back of your mind, most of time making its presence well known when you'd randomly squeal in the middle of class and eliciting worried glares from Junghwa. And even at this very moment when you're walking down the halls and approaching the familiar doors, your heart is still jumping in both fear and hope for Hoseok to be there practicing his usual routines—and maybe just a small part of you wishes he's as hopeful to see you as you are to see him.

Peeking your head from behind the door, your eyes glide throughout the room, roaming around until it easily spots the boy who’s been the only one filling your head with thoughts that make you squeal and roll around in bed from overheating. All the sunlight create a spotlight on him and only him as it pours through the open blinds of the windows lining against the opposing wall and above the tall mirrors. Maybe it’s just your imagination, but you like to think that this one boy has gained the attention and admiration of even the sun itself. The sunlight shines against his dark brown hair, highlighting the golden hues underneath, and with his beaming smile which brightens the entire room, you swear he’s practically glowing.

Unfortunately for you, your arrival goes unnoticed as Hoseok’s focus remains unbroken; his eyes are on his own reflection in the mirror, never budging even an inch to glimpse at the newcomer, and his movements never halt for even a second to pay any attention to his surroundings. Instead, another equally famed member of the club approaches you from his side.

“Are you interested in joining our club?” the girl enthusiastically questions with the most welcoming of smiles adorning her lips, her voice as raspy as the dry desert and as sleek as the starless midnight skies.

Your eyes pop as they scan her up and down, gawking when you finally register the fact that the current captain of the dance club is standing right before you. She’s towering over you as she peers down at you with her back upright but her shoulders slightly slouched enough to enforce the aura of her naturally casual aura. The toned muscles of her incredibly long legs are emphasized by her tight black running shorts, a white crop top ending just above her belly button reveals the abs every boy and girl at school continues to ogle over, and her short, black hair paired along with her sharp winged cateye epitomize the very definition of chic. She’s confident in every way possible, and you can’t help but gasp in awe.

There’s no way you can compete with a girl like her. Hoseok must be one of the many boys swooning over the ever so popular dance captain, especially when she’s the very person preparing him for his takeover of her role. You just can’t. You figure you have to give up or this will just end up in even more heartbreak incited by false hopes later down the road.

“U-um, no,” you quickly shake your head after a sudden change of plans, averting your eyes to the ground when you realize just how long she’s been smiling at the more than obvious admiration flickering in your shifty gaze.

“Oh, c’mon. Are you sure you don’t want to? I promise it’ll be fun!” she encourages.

“N-no, I’m good. Thanks though,” you quickly mumble, but the second your refusal slips from your lips, you’re crestfallen by your own conflicting decisions. Contrary to the first few minutes where you had just met Hoseok, now you’re actually dying with utter desire to join the club—especially if it means more chances to catch glimpses of the ethereal allure of Hoseok. And so before you know it, you’re leaning ever so slightly to your right to catch a last, longing glance at the boy who now seems like a distant dream.

The captain cocks her head to the side, the choppy ends of the bangs of her bob cut swaying along the force of gravity as she blinks at you with intently observing eyes. “Ah… you’re here for other reasons, aren’t you? Well, you’re not the first, and you surely won’t be the last. Hobi sure is popular,” she remarks with the purse of her lips.

Your head snaps up to stare at her wide eyed, attempting to convey to her the fallacy of her claim despite just how accurate it actually is. But even though ever part of you is urging your lips to formulate the words to deny her statement, all that runs through your head is a thought which tugs at your heartstrings for a reason unbeknownst to you. 

Ah, she called him Hobi. 

Is that his nickname? Is that what the fellow members of the club calls Hoseok? Or is it a name reserved for the soon to be former captain and her replacement? As guilty as it makes you for believing you’re entitled to even have an opinion on their relationship, you still can’t help the twisting of your guts and the drop in your stomach at the thought of just how fondly they must treat each other.

You’ve never been the jealous type before, but it blows your mind with utter disappointment at no one but yourself for how heartbroken you are over a boy you barely know.

Fortunately for you, the captain points a thumb over her shoulder and back at the boy hard at work dancing in the background in a successful attempt to regather your diverting attention before you can delve into a pitfall of toxic jealousy and yearning for something that never belonged to you in the first place. “I’ve never offered this to any of the other girls before, but you’re special. I’ll let you in here as long as you don’t tell Hoseok your true motive,” she winks at you with the click of her tongue, lowering her voice into a whisper. “It'll be just like a front seat view of a booked concert.”

You gulp at her enticing offer. How can she so easily see right through you? Not only is she exuding of confidence and unreal grace but she's also as charismatic and kindhearted as her pupil. Both you and the rest of the entire University know she's a literal goddess. There's nothing not to like. Pursuing—no, even befriending Hoseok when there's already someone like her by his side is a lost cause bound to an inevitable heartache.

“Oh, I'm alright. Really,” you let out a nervous laugh and shake your hand in refusal before clearing your throat, “I-I have to get to class now.”

She quirks a brow at your sudden departure, an amused grin adorning half of her lips. “Well okay, but if you ever change your mind, feel free to contact me. Just ask around here for Keiko.”

You quickly nod with a timid, pressed smile before giving her a small wave goodbye and scurrying off down the hallway. Ducking your head low with your eyes glued to the ground, you pass by the incoming students actually on their way to class, whereas you retreat back to your dorms. Every step you take only worsens the itch within you to return to find Keiko and take up her tempting offer.

What makes it even worse is the panging guilt which causes a toll on your dragging feet when you recall just how overjoyed and radiant Hoseok had been smiling the other day after convincing you to join him in the club. What would you do if you were to ever face him again? Who are you to entitle yourself to another meeting with the ever so popular boy before countless girls lining up by the dance room? Especially when you can’t even keep your side of the promise? And so without another hesitation in your heavy footsteps, you bury your inner desires into the back of your mind and persist to distance yourself as far as possible from him.

It’s a foolish idea anyways. Joining a club and dancing for the sake of—what? Befriending the boy you’ve been crushing on for a year now? You’re certainly not the first one, and as Keiko said before, you won’t be the last. What exactly are you hoping for anyways? Friendship? Or something beyond that? You ask yourself all these pointless questions despite knowing the answers to them all. 

And as much as you hate to admit it yourself, you know you’ve been dreaming of developing something beyond mere friendship; you've secretly been hoping that somehow you’d be different from the dozens of other girls who wishes for the same dreams. But you aren’t different. Harsh reality reminds you that, no, this isn’t a fairy tale, and you most certainly aren’t the main the character waiting to be swept off of her feet by prince charming.

So instead, you make a vain attempt in convincing yourself that you’re content with admiring from afar. These longing feelings of yours will be buried deep into the past along with the memories of that very night you just can’t seem to throw away despite how much you know they’ll come back to bite you with guilt and regret over a decision you made from insecurity.

You repeatedly tell yourself it’s a minor, temporary flutter of affections that will pass with time, and yet you can still remember every last detail of his imagery in spite of it all. The hairband peeking from underneath his slightly crimped hair which reflects a golden shine off the sunlight, the black and golden sweatshirt and basketball shorts which sway every which way of his movements, and the breathy pants and smiles as he dances to his heart’s content, you remember everything.

And even though you promise yourself that you'll never venture further into these developing affections for the school's heartthrob, the memory of the bright sun still burns in the back of your mind for many more months to come; because at some point in time, he became the sun of your universe, and the sun never strays too far from its galaxy.

-

Keeping to your promise, it's been nearly a year since you last saw Hoseok during dance practice. It was nearly impossible for you not to succumb to the nagging feeling which tugged at every inch of you to pay Hoseok the shortest of visits, even you are surprised by how long you held out in the past months. But luckily for you, other than occasionally seeing him around campus outside of the dance room, the only connection you and the other girls had with him was by word of mouth.

At first, the start of the new school year started off with constant stream of news regarding the new dance captain and his crew’s plans for the upcoming season. Everyone was buzzing with excitement and anticipation for the undeniable talent soon to come. As much as Keiko, the previous captain of the team, was loved, people were looking forward to the fresh ideas Hoseok had been planning for months. And to your relief, he held up to this expectations—in fact, he blew any sort of competition or wariness out of the water, proving he was indeed deserving of the position. You were proud, so incredibly proud of him despite barely even having a connection to the thriving captain. But nonetheless, you were beaming with pride for at least a month long into the school year.

Then came the second half of the year when commotion died down and news of Jung Hoseok dissipated into thin air. Lately, you haven't heard much from Junghwa who always seems to have the latest update on practically everything. The club's activities have been depleting along with the whereabouts of its captain. Heavy bass and catchy beats no longer blare from the now empty dance room. You've never stepped into the room for longer than the duration of your time with Hoseok, but the sudden change of its atmosphere even saddens you at heart.

Some say he's switched majors and others say he's ran out of inspiration, but the most “accurate” or “confirmed” rumor as Junghwa likes to call it is that he's simply taking a break to pick up his pitfall of grades. You know rumors aren't the most reliable sources, but they're the only things which make you feel at ease and relieve you of the constant urge to run up to him to apologize for your year long delay, making sure that reality lines up with rumors. Because even if you wanted to find him for these reasons, you wouldn't know where to start searching.

Fast forward a couple of months to make a full year since that one night which remains lingering in the back of your conscious and you’re now sitting at a cramped up restaurant with drinks in your hands and friends who’ve taken one too many shots surrounding you. Tonight is just another one of the many nights out with your gals, drinking away your worries and heartache until one or the other begins to collapse and you end up having to restrain yourself to bring them home. Nonetheless, nothing stops you from coming out to have a good time with your friends and neither do others, as this is a popular store for nearly bankrupt students at your university.

Clinks of utensils against plates and cups against cups fill the rowdy atmosphere as you and Junghwa join in by doing a round of cheers. With the dim ceiling lights brightening the red wine hues of the four walls and meat constantly sizzling in the background before a metallic cooking pan on each of the six rectangular tables in the store, you and your friends down yet another shot of beverage—some consisting of alcohol and others, like you, absent of said content.

“Cheers for surviving another semester of pure torture!” Junghwa shrills happily in her drunken state, eyes squeezed tight and mouth agape as she raises her cup triumphantly into the air.

“Cheers to Junghwa for not failing school!” Hani squeals, leaning in from across the table to clink her glass cup against yours. Junghwa snaps her head to glare and gawk at Hani, obviously offended by her friend’s remark.

“Oh yeah? Well cheers to Hani for finally getting herself a boy and not dying alone!” Junghwa huffs, roughly tinkling her cup with yours and nearly spilling your soft drink all over your jeans.

“Or how about you two get ahold of yourselves? You almost spilled my drink,” you exasperate, grimacing at the pout on their faces. Sipping what little is left in your cup, you slam it onto the table and loudly sigh. “Are you guys free this weekend? I don’t have anything tomo-”

“-yah, isn’t that Jung Hoseok and his friends?” Junghwa interrupts you with a hiss, her eyes popping open along with Hani’s gaping mouth.

“What?” you knit your brows, turning your head to glare at your friend and avoiding the possibility of locking gazes with the boy you’ve been avoiding for months now.

“Where? Where?” Hani exclaims, leaning into the table.

“Yah, yah, yah, don’t be too obvious-”

“-yahhh, it really is!” Hani gasps in amazement after ignoring Junghwa by doing the exact opposite of what she requested, whirling around to narrow her impaired eyes at the table behind her before hustling back around. Contrary to your spike of panic, Junghwa only rolls her eyes and lets out a series of giggles under her breath.

“Hani! Stop yelling,” you sternly hush through gritted teeth.

Hani clamps her lips shut and lowers her head apologetically, “oops, sorry. But aren’t you going to look?”

“Why would I?”

But contrary to your words, curiosity gets the best of you when you hesitantly turn your head and your eyes slowly trail across the floor, up your table, and across the room where Hoseok and his friends are seated. With his turned head resting on his hands propped up by his elbows leaning against the table, he’s grinning and chatting along with his friends, and like always, he’s completely clueless as to just how many girls must have been staring at him in awe. But that only makes him ever the more attractive.

Because he’s just as breathtaking as you remember; his beautifully tan skin, his choppy, breathy laughs, and his unreal side profile of his dark brown locks and sharpest of jawlines. You’re gazing at him for so long that you can practically feel yourself getting lost in his universe, but you only slip in deeper after every reminder you give yourself to return to reality—or at least until he turns to lock eyes with you.

Nearly jumping out of your seat, your blood runs cold and your entire body turns stiff. He blankly blinks at you, both brows raised questioningly as you fail to look away despite telling every part of your body to do so. Endless streams of questions and panic hit you like a tidal wave at night where the forces are the strongest and coldest that everything within it freezes and nothing seems to make sense anymore.

Does he remember you? Does he actually remember that one girl who reluctantly accepted his open arms only to run off into nonexistence the very next day? Or are you just another one of the many girls whom he has extended a helping hand to? Are you not as special as you’ve always wished to be?

The numerous questions go unanswered when Hoseok simply lets out a small laugh, a lopsided smile adorning his soft lips as he continues to gaze into yours eyes with a look that practically spoke to you with meanings of a greeting. Your eyes widen at his acknowledgement of your presence and attempt to gulp down the knot that had formed in your straining throat.

“Y-yah, did he just smile at you? Jung Hoseok? Your crush since forever?!” Junghwa nearly yells, squealing under her breath as she grips tightly onto your arm and finally snaps you out of your daze.

“I-I don’t know. He must have been looking at someone else.”

“He did?! Where? Why? How? Were you throwing him those looks we’ve been practicing since forever?” Hani exclaims, completely ignoring your rebuttal. “I can’t believe you actually used them. It’s the perfect timing. I’m proud of you, Y/N.”

“Oh, shut up. It’s just the polite thing to do,” you convince Hani while trying to do the same to yourself. But it doesn’t matter how much your subconscious is nagging at you to ditch any foolish ideas formulating in your head right this very moment, because the butterflies in your stomach and the skip of your heartbeats are telling you otherwise. You want to hope, you want to dream, and you want to talk to him, get to know him, and make up for all the lost time you had so stupidly thrown away that night.

“Psh, polite. Jung Hoseok? Polite? I know you like him, Y/N, but flirting with every girl you pass by doesn’t exactly count as just polite,” Junghwa shakes her head.

“He’s not flirting…” you mumble with a frown plastered on your face.

“Aw, Y/N…” Hani sympathizes, placing a hand over yours. “Maybe he wasn’t like this before, or maybe he was, but I think the whole school knows he’s not nice just for ethical reasons…”

“He’s a player, Y/N. Player, play boy, bad boy… whatever you want to call it, but that doesn’t change how much he’s been around. But I guess rumors will be rumors until you confirm it with them themselves,” Junghwa presses her lips and sighs. She pats your back as though to comfort the drop of your stomach when you’re reminded of the rumors regarding Hoseok. Seeing your fallen expression, she bumps your arm with hers and lets out a hopeful giggle. “Cheer up, Y/N! Now that he’s finally noticed you, maybe you can finally confirm it yourself!”

“Yeah, cheers to Y/N!” Hani exclaims, raising her glass cup once again for the hundredth shot in a row.

You’re weakly raise your cup, eyes stripped of its previously blazing excitement and blood absent of adrenaline. Knitting your brows, you press your lips shut and give a last quick glimpse at the group of boys sitting across the room. Thankfully, Hoseok preoccupies himself by leaning into his friend with his hand cupped on one side as the two whisper a conversation which elicits a roaring laugh from his friend. Amidst all of the distractions within the restaurant, you can catch a few whispers of the words “truth or dare.”

“They’re such kids… who still plays that game in college,” you mutter under your breath, shaking your head in disapproval and allowing a soft laugh slip from your lips.

Luckily for you, both of your friends fail to pick up your mumbles when Junghwa begins yet another one of her usual hushed squealing. She roughly taps your hand and nudges you with her pointy elbows. “Yah, yah, yah, they’re looking at you, Y/N.”

“Again?” Hani’s eyes pop open before she gets up from her table and grabs Junghwa’s hand. “Come on, let’s give them some time alone. Good luck, Y/N!”

And without another word of explanation, giggles tumble from their lips as the two girls push each other towards the back of the store. The sudden departure leaves you choking on your water, turning your head and hoping with every ounce of you that Hoseok’s friends haven’t noticed whatever just occurred on your side of the room. But the absence of Hoseok’s group leaves you even more baffled, a bewildered expression plastering all over your face as a familiar hammering sensation pounds against your chest.

“Hey,” you hear someone murmur to your right.

“Huh?” you turn to find a lanky boy with the check in his hand. “Oh, I’ll just take that.”

“Yeah,” he gives you a half smile, handing you the check. But instead of leaving you some time alone to calculate your bills, he continues to stand there with intently watching eyes which only gives you the creeps.

“Is there something you need…?”

“Oh, yeah. I-um… your number. I need your number,” he stutters, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

“Oh,” you utter, blankly blinking at him. “Sorry. I’m not looking for anyone right now-”

“-it’s okay, I’ll wait! We can just start off as friends, I swear. Are you free tonight?”

“Sorry… I’m just not interested-”

“-how about tomorrow night?”

Pressing your lips into a line, you bite back every word that can possibly offend this ignorant boy standing before you. You’re pondering over all the ways you can turn down his offer without being impolite, but a part of you knows that there’s nothing you can do that wouldn’t fall upon deaf ears. And what makes it even worse is when you remember the situation your friends had placed you in, your head snapping in panic that Hoseok might have been observing the embarrassing situation before you—

“—she’s with me, kid,” a familiarly husky voice vibrates in your left eardrum as a heavy arm slings over your shoulders and envelopes you in warmth.

“H-huh?” the boy stammers, eyes popping open along with yours when you turn around to find Hoseok pulling you into his chest.

“You heard me,” Hoseok coos, pulling you even closer to him. With your head resting on his firm chest, you can hear and feel his heart pumping at the calmest of rates compared to yours. His cologne heavy scent sends a shiver down your spine, and yet finding you a place of solace and serenity amidst it all. “She’s with me.”

The boy frowns, tapping his fingers against the tabletop. “That can’t be true… you two were eating at different tables.”

“Our connection is so strong that we’re telepathic. We don’t need to sit together to communicate,” Hoseok retorts all too confidently, nearly making even you believe the two of you are actually together. “It’s true whether you like it or not, boy. So you can go on ahead now.”

The boy only stares at the two of you with discomfort settling in his frown.

“Go on. Shoo,” Hoseok waves the boy off to which the boy reluctantly complies. After a few seconds of silence, his arm continues to rest comfortably over your shoulders and you remain in your seat, snuggly in his embrace. But the longer the two of you sit without a word of acknowledgement, the stiffer you become.

“Thanks for helping, but you really didn’t have to step in…” you nearly choke out under your breath. A ball of flooding energy threatens to burst from inside, your chest filling with flutters that come from your flip flopping stomach. Is Jung Hoseok really sitting next to you right now? The school’s most popular boy? Next to you?

“Well, I couldn’t just sit by and watch the cringefest play out,” he chuckles, leaning back to prop his head up with an elbow against the table. He taps his fingers against your right shoulder and it takes everything in you not to break away from his gaze to glance at the beautifully shaped fingers which remain picture clear in your mind. “Plus, what would it say about me if I were to let such a pretty girl like you slip by for a guy like him?”

“Like him?” you utter with wide eyes, attempting to hide the growing smile dancing on the corners of your lips.

Hoseok only mirrors your action, a lopsided smile forming on his lips as he watches you shuffling nervously in your seat. “He’s probably a great guy, don’t get me wrong, but he’s not experienced and he’s just plain rude. You saw how he treated you.”

“I’m sure it’s just his first time asking a girl for her number…” you give him the benefit of the doubt despite agreeing with every little thing he says.

“Maybe,” he quips. His darkened eyes watch you stare down at the ground with your hands fumbling with the holes of your fashionably torn jeans, and despite doing your very best to avoid his piercing gaze, you can’t help but internally scream at how he’s still observing your every move with a calm behavior unlike yours. “Hey, say what, I’ll show him how it’s done.”

“W-what?”

Within the blink of an eye, the weight on your shoulders lift as his hands reach out to grab ahold of your phone laying on the other side of the table. And before you know it, he’s waving your phone in front of you with a teasing smile on his lips.

“I’ll trade your phone for your number,” he offers, voice velvety and sleek as if he’s done this thousands of times before.

Is he really asking for your number? Jung Hoseok? The Jung Hoseok? It takes everything in you not to break down in overwhelming excitement, but after holding your breath and swallowing the churning of your stomach, you somehow manage to produce a steady voice contrary to your internal one.

“That’s not smooth. That’s just blackmail,” you half scoff half laugh.

“Ah, indeed. But it’s much more effective, don’t you think?” he cocks his head with an amused grin.

Rolling your eyes, you shake your head and snatch your phone back.

“Number?”

Chuckling at your swift movements, Hoseok quirks a brow before nodding in acknowledgement. And so while he recites his number with the most monotonous tone ever, you save it into your phone under the name ‘Jung Captain,’ opting out of adding a small heart emoji at the end. All the while, he watches you with half lidded, darkened eyes, every inch of his alluring expression entices you with tingling sensations running across your body.

Hoseok’s lips curve upwards in an expectant matter when his phone rings, picking it up to glance at the unrecognizable number of yours on his glaring screen. You want to at least make a decent first impression, especially if it turns out he doesn’t recall you from that one night long ago, but the force which tugs at your line of sight overcomes your weak will and causes you to glimpse over at his phone.

But all of your efforts are in vain when your suspicions are confirmed by his next question.

“And your name, love?”

Ah, so he doesn’t remember.

Your chest sinks and you’re forced to take a deep breath in order to exhale your baited breath, allowing yourself time to recuperate from your moment of disappointment. What were you expecting anyways? How would he remember someone like you? Someone who left him and his promise hanging more than a year ago? Maybe it really is just you reminiscing over that one magical night. But it’s alright, as crestfallen as you are over the lost time and memories, the new opportunity which presents itself before you only rekindles new hopes for a one sided reconciliation.

“Y/N,” you say.

Hoseok cocks his head and flashes you a soft, lopsided smile. You know he’s probably said this to countless girls before, but you can’t help it when your heart skips a beat at his next words which will play over and over in your head for the next 24 hours.

“Y/N, a beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” he smirks, and time stops. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven, then?”

-

Junghwa [7:01 pm] I know you’ve had a crush on him since forever, and this is literally a dream come true for you, but just be careful! I don’t want him to play around with my best friend.

Junghwa [7:02 pm] But on that note, have fun! Tell me how it goes, okay?

Junghwa [7:05 pm] Update. Me. Every. Single. Ten. Minutes!!!

You [7:08 pm] Alright, alright. Calm down girl.

Junghwa [7:10 pm] Okay, but where is he?! I can’t believe he’s 10 minutes late... Drop him, Y/N!

Scoffing at your friend’s remarks, you shake your head and bury your phone into your purse. It’s chilly outside tonight, but that didn’t stop you from putting on the flirtiest, most form fitting dress you could find in the depths of your closet. You didn’t want to seem too desperate, but if you’re being completely honest, you are desperate to make a good impression. Maybe he doesn’t remember you, but that might be a good thing; now you can make an even better connection without seeming like a clueless girl staring at a boy with ogling eyes.

Soon enough, a black car drives by to park by the front sidewalks of your house, and you quickly get up from the bench of your front porch.

“Hey, you ready, gorgeous?” Hoseok calls out breathily, stepping out from his car and slamming his door shut before walking over to open the other door for you.

“Yeah, more ready than I’ll ever be,” you give him a small smile.

Walking down the driveway, you can feel Hoseok’s eyes roaming up and down your body, his darkened gaze just drinking in every single inch of you. Sure, you may have planned your outfit for this intent, but the reality of it all still makes you more nervous and self conscious than ever. Plopping down into the seat, Hoseok towers over you as he prepares to close the door. But instead, his brows furrow in confusion before glancing down at the classic analog watch wrapped around his wrist.

“Oh,” his face falls at the time. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so late, babe. Tonight’s on me, I guess.”

You’re just about to protest when he slams the door and strides over to the driver’s side, leaving you with the silence and your own thoughts.

...did he just call you babe?

“So where are we headed to?” he chimes, starting up the engine with a roar.

“I’m deciding?”

“Yeah. I want to do whatever you want,” he leans his head against the window, a smug smile plastering all over his expression.

You gulp, “I guess the movies then…?”

“The movies?” Hoseok quirks a brow at your suggestion. “I haven’t gone there since my first date.”

“Oh, that’s okay then. We can go somewhere else,” you blurt out.

“No, it’s fine, I just find it cute of you. Plus, it’s more about who you’re with than where you’re going, right? And I’d go anywhere with you, love,” he smirks, giving you a wink before slamming his foot against the gas pedal and zooming into the streets.

All kinds of jitters vibrate from every inch of your body. In the close vicinity of you and all of his personal belongings including sweaty tees and hoodies, you can catch the scent of him throughout the car. Your hand trails up to clutch at your panging chest, your heart rate accelerating at an all time high, because everything he does somehow manages to wrap you around the tips of his fingers and elicit the skip of your heart, and something in you just knows he knows it too.

-

The date goes by smoothly, much more smoothly than you anticipated your jittery nerves would be able to manage. Of course, there are exceptions when going on a date with someone like Hoseok—exceptions that you’ve never expected from the sweet, cheeky dance captain you met a year ago.

“Wanna watch something boring like Disney animations? Or do you wanna watch something exciting like Fifty Shades of Grey,” he would lean in and whisper into your ear, his lips grazing your earlobes and sending shivers down your spine.

“Disney,” you would blurt out in a panic.

Hoseok would just scoff at you, a smirk dancing on his lips as he nods before paying for the tickets and mumbling, “well that’s no fun. What’re we going to do for two hours then…”

...as if he was planning to do things other than watching the movie.

Then there came other times when you two would reach for the same spot of popcorn, or when your hand would bump into his on your right armrest, and he’d turn his head to quirk a brow at you to question your completely coincidental intentions. But to him, nothing is coincidental. He would then suddenly grab your hands in his, fingers firmly interlocking with yours and a rush of warmth engulfing every bit of you along with your melting heart.

“Girls like you love this kind of stuff, huh?” he would lean in to whisper against your ear, purposely brushing his lips against your ear before tucking a strand of hair behind your right ear.

And by the end of the night, you finally understand what the rumors have been based off of. Maybe Hoseok really has been making the rounds. He knows how to play you in the palm of his hands, and he knows how to make any girl’s heart flutter with joy over his sweet, honey-like voice.

He’s not a bad boy—or at least you don’t think he is. He’s kindhearted in every way—maybe that’s what makes someone a bad boy—but hints of the old him remains hidden in his beaming smiles. And God, as much as you hate to admit it, you’re still searching for that boy from a year ago. You’re not sure if you’ve fallen for the present bad boy, heartthrob Hoseok, but a part of you aches from wondering the whereabouts of the other boy you had fallen for.

Ten minutes before the end of the movie and you’re standing before the restroom sink, heart pumping like crazy and mind scrambling for an excuse or some sort of confidence to bring yourself back to the seat beside Hoseok. All of the moves and trick he’s been playing on you made you so distressed that you excused yourself to the restroom, repeatedly drying your hands with towels when your phone vibrates in your bag and you pick it up to take a quick glance at it.

Junghwa [9:02 pm] Girl. How’s it going???

Junghwa [9:04 pm] Where. Are. You?!?!

Junghwa [9:07 pm] I told you to update me!!!

You disregard the first three texts with the roll of your eye, but the next two texts are what causes you to pause and do a double take.

Junghwa [9:33 pm] Y/N… I need to talk to you… it’s really important.

Junghwa [9:35 pm] I’m guessing you’re busy, so I’ll just tell you now. I don’t know how to say this… but I heard Hoseok… your guys’ date… all of this tonight… I heard he has other motives behind it. Someone told me the guys were playing truth or dare last night, and they dared him to ask you out. Something about rounding the number of girls who’ve fallen for him to 10 or something. It’s dumb. It’s so fucking horrendous. And that’s not even all… I’m sorry, Y/N. He’s not worth it anyways.

What?

Your once scrambled mind only becomes even more hectic when you’re trying to process her words. Hoseok didn’t ask you out because he was interested, but rather, he used you for his own little game? You’re just another one of his toys meant for fulfilling him and his friends’ child play? That can’t be true. Not after all the signs he’s shown you tonight… right?

You [9:36 pm] What’s the other thing?

The twist of your guts and the strange ache, constriction of your chest and lungs are undeniably painful as you wait for her reply. You pace up and down the empty restroom, biting your nails and heaving your chest from long, baited breaths before scrambling back to your phone with a new message awaiting you.

Junghwa [9:38 pm] I heard, I don’t know if it’s true, but I heard he’s trying to use you to get with the last dance captain by making her jealous. I don’t know though, Y/N… I’m sorry.

Turns out, maybe the rumors are right after all. This night was too perfect to be true anyways. Of course things have to end up like this. But it’s alright, you tell yourself, you’ve only been talking to this boy for a day now. The one you truly like is long gone and forgotten in the past now. You tell yourself can get over it soon, but the numbing pain gnawing away at your chest never seems to cease as you wait for him outside of the theater.

Soon enough, Hoseok exits the room along with the relatively few number of audience members, eyes widening when he spots you right away. “Hey, babe, where’d you go?” he asks with a gentle smile, wrapping his arm over your shoulder and guiding you out of the theater and into the parking lot.

The word ‘babe’ only pierces your already fragile state. Why is he putting on a show? Why is he calling you these affectionate names when they mean nothing other than getting him closer to his goals?

You glance up at him from just a feet away, eyes gliding over his ethereal facial features and wondering just where the boy you had fallen heads over heels with had gone. There’s no way he could have changed this much, is there? The Hoseok you know wouldn’t treat girls like another one of his pawns, would he?

He opens the door for you like always, smiling at you with raised brows and plastering on that mask that he’s come to master throughout his time with his now worn out toys. You oblige and seat yourself into the car, but your mind doesn’t stop from wondering why he’s doing all of this in the first place.

Hoseok knows he’s got you wrapped around his finger. He knows everything that he’s done tonight has already won your heart, otherwise why would you be hurting like this? So why is he continuing with this act? Why put so much effort to act like a gentleman, to pull out a chair, to save you from assholes he hypocritically labeled as jerks? Why did someone so sweet turn out to be such a cold hearted, ignorant jerk like him?

“You like to play games, right?” you ask with shaky breath.

Hoseok turns to raise a brow at you. “Sure. Depends on what kinds of games. Games like seven minutes in heaven? Or games like hide and seek? I’m sure you prefer the latter.”

“No,” you straight up ignore his remark, “I mean games like truth or dare.”

“Oh? You like those kinds of games?” he muses, regripping the steering wheel. “Alright, let’s start with you then. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Bah, of course you would,” he teasingly groans. Leaning towards you, Hoseok takes a quick glimpse at you with a smirk on his lips. “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

You hate yourself for the way your heart flips at his words.

“No,” you lie through gritted teeth. Hoseok only scoffs at your supposedly evident lie. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth, babe.”

“Do you still dance?” you question.

He pauses, and you notice the darkening of his eyes as he clenched his jaw. “Dance? Why the sudden curiosity?”

“I heard you used to dance,” you spit out yet another lie.

Where is he?

Where is the old Hoseok?

“I did,” he simply says, voice low and filled with an edge of annoyance. You let out a breath of relief, but it’s cut short when he taps his fingers against the wheel. “But I wasn’t great at it.”

A lie.

His phone buzzes and a series of text coming from a contact number simply labeled as ‘from the bar last week’ pops up on his screen. But before you can read it, Hoseok reaches over to turn off the glaring screen of his phone.

“Your turn. Since I already know you’re picking truth, then how was tonight? Genuinely speaking. You’re acting awfully odd right now. Did I mess up?”

“It was great. Amazing. You didn’t do anything wrong,” you deadpan. He only watches you with unamused eyes. Both of you are burning with annoyance at one another, one because you know just exactly what’s going on in his head, and the other because he didn’t know what is going on in your head. “Truth or dare?”

“...truth.”

“Did you ask me out because you liked me?”

Silence.

He clears his throat.

“Yes.”

Another lie.

Gulping the knot in your throat, you attempt to rapidly blink the tears welling up in your eyes away. A sob threatens to escape your lips, but with a deep breath in and out, you finally blurt out your next question.

“Alright, this is getting boring because I’ve been lying this whole time,” you nearly squeak with a shaky breath. “Sorry. Let’s start over, yeah? Ask me your first question.”

Hoseok’s brows furrow at your sudden change in behavior, but nonetheless, he complies with your orders. “Have you slept with anyone before…?”

“Nope. I’m a virgin. As simple as that,” you give him a bittersweet smile in an attempt to hide the quivering of your lips. “Do you still dance? No, have you danced before? Has dancing ever meant anything to you?”

The car comes to a stop, parking in front of your driveway as the engines go silent and time seems to go still. Hoseok reclines in his seat, turning to stare at you with half lidded, dark eyes, because he knows you’re up to something. And so, the pain of your chest becomes even more evident when he remains silent.

“Alright. Next question then. Did you ask me about because you were genuinely interested? Or is there something else I should know?”

His jaw tightens and his body becomes stiffer than ever. He’s glaring at you and you’re glaring at him, both silent and fuming with fury as time ticks by. He’s searching for answers over your 180 degree change in behavior, and you’re searching for answers to the whereabouts, the hidden story behind his change in persona.

After a few seconds of intense silence, he turns away with a sigh, running a hand through his hair before slamming his steering wheel.

“Yeah. I don’t know what else you want me to do, but I’m interested.”

And that’s when you come to a revelation.

This isn’t the Jung Hoseok you love. 

This is just another bygone of the setting sun.

[refinedbuffoonery]

Flawless (7)

Con Artist AU. masterlist. 

Content Warning: swearing, PTSD, violence, sex

Before we get started here, you all need to know that Flawless will be going on a mini-hiatus. This chapter is the end of my original outline, and I need to spend some time planning out the next plot arc before I write the next chapter. 

(Also, shoutout to the lovely humans who translated the line in French. Y’all are the real MVPs.)

Anyway, this is it. The chapter you’ve all been waiting for. The heist. It feels so surreal to finally write it. As always, thank you for coming on this wild ride with me. ❤

*****

In the shadow of its brightly illuminated landmarks, Paris hummed to the tune of debauchery. 

Paparazzi gathered around the Louvre’s glass pyramid, waiting to capture a clear picture of a celebrity guest entering the afterparty. Riley shielded her face with her clutch as she walked in, careful to remain unidentifiable in the barrage of photos. The gold buttons on her emerald jacket-dress caught the warm light emanating from the pyramid and the bright camera flashes. She was well dressed, but not enough to stand out. Tonight, Riley needed to blend in. 

She ran a hand through her hair, making sure the loose curls covered her earpiece. For the sake of stealth, the team’s comms were skin color, but they were Nikki and Cage’s skin color, not Riley’s. 

Riley was half-tempted to throw her comms into one of the fountains out of spite. 

She was the last of the Five Eyes to arrive. They staggered their arrivals to avoid being associated with one another, as a precaution. Pulse thrumming in anticipation, Riley bounced on her toes slightly as she waited in line to check in. The Louvre security team meticulously checked each guest’s ID against the guest list; there would be no party crashers tonight. 

It had been all too easy for Riley to add the Five Eyes’ cover identities to the guest list a week ago. Now, she handed the stone-faced security guard a drivers’ license bearing her face and the name “Danika Jackson.” Returning her ID with a nod, the security guard stepped aside, allowing Riley to enter the party. 

Everyone is responsible for their own entrance and exit. That was her new rule. She got everyone’s names added to the guest list, but her assistance ended there. If someone ran into trouble, it was on them to bail themselves out. 

Riley had learned that rule from her mentor when she first dipped her toes into the world of two-faced schemes and nimble-fingered cons, but she never truly understood it—or saw the need to enforce it—until she felt the bite of handcuffs digging into her wrists. 

It was a mistake she’d never make again. 

Riley strolled through the hallway bearing massive Italian paintings, slowly making her way to the room containing the most overrated painting of all time—and the rendezvous point. 

The Mona Lisa room was empty aside from a blonde woman in a beaded, blood-red cocktail dress standing much too close to the glass-encased painting. Riley stood to the woman’s right and studied the painting as well. It was underwhelming. 

“You’d think the most beautiful woman in art would be wearing a prettier dress,” Nikki remarked.

Riley snorted, crossing her arms. “Says the woman who just bought a four-thousand-dollar cheetah print pantsuit.”

Nikki feigned offence. “You’re just jealous because you couldn’t pull it off. Anyway, quiz time. What year did da Vinci paint the Mona Lisa?” 

“1503,” Riley answered easily. “And the woman’s name is Lisa del Giocondo.” Nikki’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What’s that look for?” 

“I didn’t think you actually listen when I talk about art.” 

Riley offered her friend a small smile. “I’m always listening to you.” The sound of heels clicking down the hall made them pause. When the coast was clear, Riley murmured, “Is everyone in position?”

“Yeah. Desi and Sam should be inside already, and Jill checked in a few guests in front of me.”

“How did that go?”

“Easy peasy.” Nikki glanced at Riley and softened her tone. “Are we sure Jill is ready for this?”

“We’ll find out, won’t we? Don’t forget, it was your idea to recruit her.”

Nikki turned back to the Mona Lisa. “You know, you really do suck at pep talks.” 

“Oh shut up.” Riley rolled her eyes. “Are you sure you want control room duty?” 

Nikki spared her a sideways glance. “I’ll do it. You did it last time.” Her second sentence hung heavy in the air, a reminder of the job gone horribly wrong. And a reminder of all the things they still hadn’t talked about. 

Riley brushed it aside. They could talk after they were each forty million dollars richer. 

Pulling a flash drive hidden inside an old lipstick tube out of her clutch, Riley instructed, “Plug this in, and it’ll do half the work for you.” 

“Thanks.” Nikki put the tube in her own purse. “See you on the other side.” 

“Don’t get caught.” 

“Don’t get caught,” Nikki parroted, and Riley strode down the hall toward the party.

She followed the pulsing music and the stream of guests to a room in the far corner of the museum, passing the employee door Nikki would sneak into along the way. Crossing the threshold, she couldn’t conceal her gasp. Riley had seen plenty of opulent rooms over the years, but the Galerie d’Apollon was something else entirely. Gold moulding framed the dozens of paintings covering the walls and the arched ceiling. Display cases containing the French Crown Jewels formed a line down the middle of the rectangular room. Despite the party’s couture dress code, the bedazzled guests looked entirely underdressed compared to the grandeur of the gallery.

She only let herself be awestruck for a few seconds before getting to work, marking the exits and security cameras. Riley didn’t like how deep the gallery was in the museum—and how far she would have to walk to make a clean escape with the jewels. 

She would be the one walking out with them. No one else. Riley had made that crystal clear during the team planning meeting a few days ago. 

Draped in black fabric, the case containing the designer jewelry sat in the middle of the gallery. A security guard stood by it, no doubt to ward off nosey guests wanting a sneak peek. 

A wave of nausea passed through her, reminding Riley that the closest thing to a substantial meal she’d eaten all day was the two pastries she ate a few hours ago. She slipped through the crowd with practiced ease, heading for the snack table. Jill was already there, gorging herself on bread and cheese. Eyes wide, the blonde froze as Riley sidled next to her, evidently thinking she was in trouble. 

But Riley simply reached for a piece of bread and asked, “Which cheese is the best?” 

Exhaling audibly, Jill pointed a manicured, light blue nail. “That one.” Riley tried it. Jill was right; it was delicious. 

“You ready, Blondie?” Riley asked, lowering her voice. “There’s no job unless you get this right.” 

Jill rolled her shoulders back, snarking, “No pressure or anything.” There was a bite to her words, one Riley noticed only came out when someone, namely her, pushed the blonde a little too far. 

“Sorry,” Riley said, and she meant it. “You can do this. Don’t second-guess yourself. Commit.” 

Jill merely nodded, swallowing another piece of cheese. 

Riley wandered off, not wanting to stay with Jill too long. With her back to a wall, she scanned the room in search of Desi and Cage. When she didn’t see them on her first sweep, Riley furrowed her brow. Where the hell were they? 

A bright laugh carried across the room—Cage. There you are, Riley thought. She spied her teammate enjoying the spotlight in the center of a group of models all cooing over Cage’s pale pink dress. It suited Cage, with its billowy sleeves and flowy skirt that hit just below her knees. Cage giggled again, putting her hand on a woman’s shoulder a little too boldly for the gesture to be casual. 

Predictably, Desi wasn’t far away, staring daggers at her shameless flirt of a girlfriend. 

Riley unmuted her comms. “Easy there, Des. It’s just an act.” 

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” she snapped. Even from a distance, Riley could see Desi’s tight grip on her champagne flute. 

Riley cooed, “So jealous.” 

The woman wrapped a proprietary arm around Cage, clearly welcome to the blonde’s advances, and Cage beamed at her. 

It was enough to push Desi over the edge. “Don’t forget whose bed you’re sleeping in tonight, Samantha,” she snarled. “And I don’t remember agreeing to share.” 

Cage excused herself from the group. “My love, did it ever occur to you that I’m making you jealous on purpose? Because we both know—”

Nikki cut her off, rescuing the team from whatever filthy thing was about to come out of Cage’s mouth. “Don’t be gross, you two.” Riley stifled a laugh. She and Nikki had been subjected to many things they didn’t want to hear over the years. This would hardly faze her now.

Focus. They needed to focus. 

Riley finally spotted the sharp-eyed assistant she noticed at the runway show. Always two steps behind the designer, the young woman obediently trailed him as he floated from group to group. The assistant finished her drink, setting it on the tray of a passing waiter, and strode toward the main hallway in this wing of the museum. 

“I think she’s going to the bathroom,” Jill said. “Do I follow her?” 

Snagging a drink of her own, Riley answered, “No. Bump into her when she comes back.” She watched Jill make her way toward the far side of the gallery, ready to intercept the assistant and steal her keys. 

Everything was going to plan. Jill just had to steal the keys, and then all they had to do was hurry up and wait for the big reveal. Eight o’clock, Riley was told upon arrival. The designer would commence his speech at eight, then reveal his masterpiece to the world. 

Riley checked her watch. Thirty more minutes. 

She knew she’d been standing in this spot for too long already, but Riley was loath to give up the relative safety of having a wall at her back. The twinge of fear she’d felt earlier at the runway show came raging to the surface, rooting her stiletto-clad feet in place. Leaving the wall meant having people in her blind spot. No one’s going to hurt me, Riley promised herself. This is a party, not a prison. 

Her legs felt like lead weights, but Riley forced herself to re-enter the crowd, one agonizing stride at a time. She made it as far as the nearest display case before she had to stop, and her eyes landed on a tiara resting in the center of the display. Countless tiny diamonds formed flowery swoops and swirls, with a handful of emeralds scattered between them, filling what would otherwise be empty spaces. In the center, the diamonds framed a large, round emerald, mimicking the shape of a flower. 

It was exactly what Riley would have stolen had the Five Eyes agreed to rob the Louvre itself, rather than this party. Maybe she’d come back for it, one day. 

Using the case as a pseudo-wall, Riley took a deep breath and re-scanned the room in search of Jill. Unsurprisingly, Jill was exactly where Riley had last seen her.

She kept an eye on the recruit, knowing Desi and Cage were doing the same. Riley was impressed; Jill had quickly figured out how to linger without being obvious she was waiting for something. Jill mindlessly pushed up her glasses—the only visible sign of her nerves—and the movement drew Riley’s attention. 

But not to Jill. 

To another blond head, far behind her. One Riley desperately hoped to never see again. 

“We have a problem,” Desi said. 

“I saw.” 

Nikki’s ex-boyfriend stalked into the gallery, a taller, older man at his heels like a shadow—the same men who chased Riley, Nikki, and Jill through the taco shop a few weeks ago. 

Fuck.

Ducking her head to avoid being spotted, Riley hissed, “Nik, get your ass to the control room and lock the door behind you. We’ve got company.” 

“Already here. Accessing system controls as we speak. Whoever designed the security system in this place should be fired, because this is ridiculously simple. I should’ve left it in French just to keep it interesting.” A pause. "Who's here? Wait. No. Let me guess. Interpol? The mob? That bitchy designer I once robbed point-blank?" 

"Your ex." 

"Oh."

"You didn't tell him about our dream job, did you?" The words came out a little too accusatory, but Riley didn't care. She needed to know. 

"No! Of course I didn't. He— Look, I don't know why he's here, and we can figure that out later. Right now, you need to keep him busy. He's smart, Riles. Maybe even smarter than you. Be careful." 

Riley scoffed. "Smarter than me? We'll see about that." 

"I'm serious, Riley." 

But Riley ignored her, instead giving instructions of her own. "Cage, you watch Jill. Des—" 

"I've got the big one." Classic Desi, never letting her finish a sentence and yet always knowing what she was going to say. The habit was obnoxious at first, but over time Riley learned to appreciate it. "See the bulge on his left side? He keeps touching it." Desi said. "He's armed." 

“He’s what?” Jill exclaimed. 

Chuckling, Desi said, “Now look at my left side. We match.” A small, terrified squeak was the only response. “Well, what did you think I meant when I told you I’m the team’s exfil specialist?” 

“Not that!” 

“And Nik’s ex?” Riley asked, redirecting the conversation. 

“Seems clean.” 

“He is,” Nikki confirmed. “Mac hates guns.” 

“You know,” Riley said, studying the larger of the two men, “The other one kind of looks like a guy who dated my mom once.” 

“Really?” Desi asked. “Think he’s the same guy?” 

Riley took a closer look. He was tall, with broad, muscled shoulders and a buzzed haircut, and considering how often he fidgeted with his tie, he didn’t get dressed up often. He smiled at a passing waitress. He had an open, friendly smile, which totally contrasted with the systematic way he scanned the room. “Nah.”

Jill squawked, “Wait! Are we really still going through with this? Didn’t it just get a whole lot harder?” 

“You say harder, I say more fun,” Cage said. “Just stick to the plan. You’ll be fine.” 

Jill, it seemed, wasn’t so easily reassured. “Am I the only one who sees this is a trap?” 

“It’s only a trap when you don’t know about it. When you do, it’s a challenge,” Riley said. 

“But what if the plan goes wrong? Then what?” 

At the same time, all four women answered, “Improvise.” 

Riley muted her comms as she approached Nikki’s ex; Jill didn’t need the added distraction. Help her, Riley pleaded with the universe. You owe me. 

Pushing her concerns about Jill to the back of her mind, Riley studied her target. There was a champagne flute in the spy’s hand, but he didn’t drink it—not even a sip—and his methodical gaze swept the room, no doubt making note of each guest and who they interacted with. 

He was cute, she had to admit. Definitely Nikki’s type. 

Purposefully not watching where she was going, Riley collided with him, narrowly avoiding sloshing his drink onto her shoes. She pretended to stumble, and his free hand caught her waist, ensuring Riley stayed upright. “Oh! I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going. Pardon me.” 

His hand left her side. Frowning, he asked, “Do I know you?” 

Don’t lie. Evade. Her former mentor taught her that. 

Riley smirked. “I bet you use that line on every beautiful woman you stumble into.” 

“Only when I’m too blown away to say something original.” He winked. 

Maybe this would be easier than Riley anticipated. “Care to wander the museum with me while you practice your next line?” 

“Normally I would, but I just got out of a relationship, and I’m not looking to start anything new.” 

So much for that plan. 

His honesty, however, was surprising. 

“Not even a little fun?” she goaded, but Nikki’s ex declined once more before excusing himself and vanishing into the crowd. 

At least Desi had better luck keeping the other spy occupied. She had him cornered, her body carefully angled to prevent him from seeing the slight bulge from the gun hidden in her dress. The plunging neckline had two purposes—easy access to the gun holstered at her side while providing a distracting view of her chest and intricate tattoos. It was just enough to snag wandering eyes and keep them focused on the front of her body, rather than the side. To the spy’s credit, his eyes remained pointedly fixed on Desi’s face. 

“Got the keys,” Jill announced. Perfect timing. 

Riley breathed a sigh of relief. “Good work, Blondie.” 

Now, all they had to do was wait.

*****

While the designer yammered some pretentious bullshit about fine jewelry as the centerpiece of fashion and art, Riley slowly pushed her way to the front of the crowd gathering for the reveal. A few feet away, Cage did the same. Across from them—closest to the still-covered jewelry display case—Desi and Jill took their places. None of them were particularly interested by the designer’s speech, but Nikki would be hanging on every word if she were here. 

The designer rambled on, explaining how particular pieces among the French Crown Jewels influenced the designs of his own work. It was awfully arrogant, Riley thought, comparing his own work to such timeless pieces. The longer he spoke, the more Riley disliked him and didn’t feel even an ounce of guilt for robbing him. 

Lingering on the edge of the crowd, Nikki’s ex and his partner seemed content to remain out of the way. For all Riley cared, they could stay there all night. 

The gallery lights flickered once. A few guests glanced up nervously, but the majority remained transfixed on the designer. 

Nikki’s voice crackled through the comms. “Everyone ready? Nod once if you are.” Riley nodded. One by one, so did everyone else. “Alrighty then. Lights out in five…”

Riley counted the number of paces between her and Cage—six. 

“Four…”

Paces from Cage to the jewelry case—eight. 

“Three…”

Paces from the case back to her original position—ten. 

Two…

Closing her eyes, Riley waited. 

“One.” 

Several women shrieked when the lights went out. 

Riley opened her eyes, and before they’d even adjusted to the dark, she strode toward Cage. Six steps. She collided with Cage, dropping her purse on the ground and taking Cage’s identical one, containing replicas of the necklace and earrings. 

Cage shouted that someone stole her purse, causing a scene. She’d chatted and flirted with enough people throughout the night for her voice to be easily recognized, and a murmur broke out among the agitated crowd, creating just enough background noise to cover the sound of Riley’s heels clicking on the floor. 

Eight steps to the back side of the jewelry display. Riley could just make out Jill and Desi unlocking the case with the assistant’s keys. She braced for an alarm to sound, but there was nothing. Atta girl, Nikki. 

Riley opened the purse. Carefully, Desi replaced the real jewels with the fakes, depositing the real ones inside Cage’s purse. 

Jill locked the case and replaced the cover, and Riley returned to her original position among the crowd. The designer and his assistant remained oblivious to what transpired behind them, even as Jill slipped the keys back into the assistant’s dress pocket.

“Lights on in three,” Nikki warned. 

Emergency lights flickered on, casting a harsh white light over the murmuring crowd. A man angrily questioned what happened, followed by a chorus of “Yeah, what he said!”s in a variety of languages. The assistant urged the crowd to remain calm, promising everything would be sorted out shortly. 

Riley looked over her shoulder, searching for Nikki’s ex. He was nowhere to be found. She narrowed her eyes, but with two hundred million dollars worth of jewelry in her hand, Riley decided she didn’t particularly care. 

The woman Cage flirted with the longest stepped forward, picking up the purse Riley had tossed near Cage’s feet. “Isn’t this your purse?” she asked Cage. 

Riley’s teammate feigned embarrassment, gracefully reclaiming the purse. “Yes, that’s it. Thank you.” 

Just as an outraged Cage exclaimed the purse was empty, Riley melted into the dispersing crowd, slowly making her way toward the museum’s exit. That was the plan. She’d leave first, and once she escaped with the jewels, everyone else would exit as well. 

Riley retraced her steps, heels clicking on the hardwood flooring of the museum’s endless long hallways. She didn’t look at any of the art as she passed, not even a single glance. Art had always been more Nikki’s thing than hers. 

Weaving her way back to the exit, Riley prayed Nikki hadn’t missed any of the cameras. She was supposed to loop them all, allowing Riley to leave the museum unseen. But with each additional camera—some obvious, some not—Riley’s anxiety rose. 

Nikki knows what she’s doing, Riley reminded herself. She won’t let anything happen to me. 

Two years ago, that reassurance would’ve been enough. 

Now, her distrusting brain shot back, Are you sure? 

Riley didn’t dignify it with a response. 

Passing the museum’s security checkpoint, Riley smiled at a bored-looking security guard. “Vous partez déjà?” he asked. 

Riley hoped the security guard asked why she was leaving so soon. She never did get around to brushing up on her French. “Oui, I have a flight to catch.” Not a lie, although the flight wouldn’t take off until early tomorrow morning. 

The crisp night breeze prickled Riley’s bare skin. She took a deep breath, letting the cold air fill her lungs. For the first time that night, Riley finally felt her body start to relax. The vast, empty plaza felt so much safer than the packed gallery. Still not safe enough to let her guard down, but safer. Riley slipped her hand into the purse, fingers closing around an earring. It was surprisingly heavy in her palm. 

Another flawless job. The Five Eyes were back in business. 

She was halfway across the plaza when Nikki started cursing, but Riley didn’t slow. Everyone is responsible for their own exit. The job was done. No turning back now. 

There was a distinct male voice in the background, but Riley couldn’t make out what he said. 

“What do you mean, ‘I had a feeling you’d be here’?” Nikki demanded. “We haven’t spoken in months, Mac, and I know you didn’t track me here on your own.” 

Her ex’s voice was nothing more than a low, indiscernible rumble. 

“What?” Nikki whispered, her voice breaking mid-word. 

As much as Riley wanted to know what he said, she kept walking. But that didn’t stop the others from hissing Nikki’s name, demanding to know what was going on. 

Nikki yelped, and then the male voice purred, loud and clear, “I know you’re listening, Riley. Why don’t we go on that little walk now?” 

With a cold laugh, Riley said, “In your fucking dreams.” How did he know her name? As far as she knew, Nikki never mentioned her. 

Still, she kept walking. Everyone is responsible for their own exit. No matter what. 

Riley muted her comms, and Nikki’s piercing shriek filled her ear. A muffled grunt followed.

Then nothing. 

Please be okay. Please be okay. Please be okay. 

“Riley, you need to come back,” Jill pleaded. “Nikki needs help.” 

She didn’t answer, clenching her jaw with the effort to keep silent. An airplane flew overhead, and Riley tracked its path across the sky. Every step brought Riley closer to her own flight home—and the freedom that entailed. Turning around now would only put that in jeopardy. 

But every step also took her away from her best friend. The woman she once believed she’d do anything for. 

Jill was overreacting, Riley reasoned. Nikki was more than capable of getting herself out of a bind. Riley lost track of the number of impossible situations she and Nikki had found themselves in over the years, and they always found a way to escape. 

“Sam is getting Jill out,” Desi said, slightly out of breath. “Riles, I don’t think I can get Nikki out on my own. Jill is right. You need to come back.” 

Riley faltered. If Desi thought there was a problem, then something must’ve gone really, really wrong. 

Maybe Jill wasn’t overreacting after all. 

“Des—” Cage started. “They opened the case.” 

“So?” 

“They know the jewels are fake. If Riley comes back, it won’t just be Nikki going to prison.” 

Prison. 

Riley didn’t think she was breathing. Heart thudding wildly, her stomach tied itself into knots, and her clothes became damp with sweat. The sense of safety she’d felt earlier was gone, and Riley fought the urge to run. Every little noise—traffic, pedestrian chatter, a siren in the distance—was coming for her, ready to drag her into some dark hole she’d never emerge from. 

Nothing was logical anymore, like the part of her brain capable of rational thought had gone to sleep. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, trying to wake up, but it was no use. 

Run, while you still have the chance, her body screamed. 

Everyone is responsible for their own exit, her brain repeated. 

She needed to turn around. Nikki couldn’t go to prison. 

Two years ago, Riley had gone to prison in Nikki’s stead. She let herself be arrested to protect her friends. Her family. 

If Nikki went to prison now, then Riley’s sacrifice would be in vain. 

But Riley’s body refused to turn around. Her worst memories from prison flashed before her eyes—ones Riley desperately wanted to forget—like a cougar crouching in the shadows, waiting for the exact moment she was at her weakest to pounce. 

She couldn’t go back there. She couldn’t go through that again. 

She wouldn’t survive it twice. 

“Riles,” Nikki pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Where are you?” 

Run, that voice in her head said. Don’t look back. 

Her steps were slower now, less sure. But Riley didn’t stop. She couldn’t. 

“I need you.” 

Save yourself, girl. 

“I’m sorry,” Riley whispered, but her comms were still muted. With a shaking hand, Riley unmuted them one last time. 

It’s better this way, the voice promised. You’ll see. 

It was all too easy to slip into the brutal, emotionless persona she’d built while in prison, the process having become instinct. It was necessary then, to keep her safe and alive. Now, it did the same, preventing Riley from making a mistake every cell in her body knew she wouldn’t come back from. 

In a cold, unflinching voice, Riley said, “Everyone is responsible for their own exit.” 

She threw her earpiece into a nearby fountain, and the click of her stilettos echoed in the night. 

~ Tag List ~ Want to be added? Send me an ask.

@macrileyedits / @hellishrose / @losingitovermacriley​ / @mylifequotesshowallofthem / @thecarrieonokay / @holbytlanna​ /

[skepticbeliever-bookclub]

Hey! I was wondering if you guys could find any fics that surrounds either of the the boys (Shane or Ryan) being famous, e.g. actors. Thanks

we’ve got a few for you! 

all the songs ‘verse -  prettyboyrollins | G to T, 85k, wip Ryan Bergara's a freelance cinematographer looking for an in in the film industry, taking any job he can find.

Shane Madej works with students during the day and performs in a bar with his band at night.

This is their journey, featuring the friends and relationships they build along the way.

but i haven’t thought of you lately at all -  beethechange | E, 10k, complete In 2026, seven years after the end of Buzzfeed Unsolved, a guy walks into a bar.

Bigger Than The Sky -  fratboyryan | Gen, 7.1k, complete Lech Zürs am Arlberg is a ski resort in Austria, known for its powder snow, luxurious après ski, and state of the art chairlifts. Shane works there to chase the snow and follow his dreams of living down the slopes. He teaches the German-language beginner class, has a harmless crush on his favorite Netflix actor, and is sort of trying to escape real life. Ryan's an actor on the rise, whose growing fame and loss of a year old relationship is weighing down on him. To get an escape from it all, he takes a trip to Lech, to take lessons in skiing (as well as love).

In Golden Hues -  trailsofpaper | M, 17k, complete 1937, Hollywood. Shane Madej’s life is falling apart even before he’s accused of murder. Having a tête-à-tête with a beautiful, bright-eyed stuntman on the same night was only incidental, but one of these events would turn out to change his life.

Say You Want Me, Too -  sequence_fairy | M, 5.9k, complete It’s too easy, Shane thinks, to love Ryan; too easy to get caught up in the swirl and eddy of the light he projects. Too easy to lose yourself in the whirlwind of an A-list romance. Too easy to fall for who someone is on the red carpet and to find out they’re not at all the person you thought.

Ryan’s not like that, though. He’s hard-working, dedicated, and devoted to his craft. Shane loves him for that and more. Loves him for the way Ryan reaches out when they’re on the red carpet and the crush of people is too intense, loves him for the way Ryan redirects the far-too-personal questions that get hurled their way when they come out into the spotlight for real.

Where Shane’s career is mowing along at a steady clip, Ryan’s is a rocket rising up out of the desert. Shane knows the saying about tides, but more than anything, he just wants Ryan to succeed, and he’s thrilled to death by the meteoric lift of Ryan’s star.

Sometimes, you fall in love and it's just not the right time. Sometimes, you get a second chance.

Lost a fic? Check out our fic found tag, and if you still can’t find it, send us an ask!

[phantom-curve]

did I shatter you? pt. 1

and I’m sitting on a bench in Coney Island wondering where did my baby go?

or

Julie and Luke find their way back to each other after a year of silence, on a cold bench, in the middle of December, on Coney Island.

part one: you’re not my homeland anymore | part two: when a good man hurts you | part three: there’s an ache in you, put there by the ache in me | part four: my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand | epilogue: what died didn’t stay dead

An aggressive wind whipped Julie Molina’s wayward curls across her face, the dancing tendrils tickling her cheeks as she stared out at the empty boardwalk. The grey day pressed in against her. The cold crept under her peacoat to sink into her very bones. Coney Island, usually so bright and loud, stood quiet and empty. No one had dared venture out to the island on this cold December day. No one except for Julie.

Another gust of wind ripped through her. She shivered against it, burrowing further into the wool of her coat. She should leave. She should stand up, walk away from this bench, get on with her life. She couldn’t though. She felt frozen in place, frozen in time. The sun dipped lower on the horizon, the rest of the world continuing to spin despite Julie’s corner of it coming to a halt almost a year ago to the day. She thought the pain of losing her mother would be incomparable. She never realized losing Luke would be a different type of pain entirely, a pain that would cut deeper and leave her bleeding out from wounds too deep for stitches.

She thought of the life she had been living for the last year. City after city, a blur of states and places within them, nothing sticking for longer than a night. The whirlwind of her life passing her by felt the same as when she had opened her eyes while spinning around on the merry-go-round on this very pier. Fleeting moments of flashing lights and sparkling smiles and at the end of the day it was nothing but fake, porcelain lies that had been sustaining her. Luke had never lied to her. But then again, Luke wasn’t here anymore.

The sharp breeze blew against her again, rustling the leftover sand on the faded wooden boards beneath her boots. Her head throbbed, thoughts spiked with frustration and self-loathing running amok in her mind. Had it been worth it? What did she have left to show for the heartbreak she suffered on a daily basis? The screams of the crowd meant nothing when he wasn’t by her side, soaking in every moment with her. Would she ever feel the same type of completion she felt when his hand was clasped tight in hers, raised above a burning spotlight, elevated above them as they bowed for their adoring fans? Everything felt hollow in his absence.

It was dark now. The streetlights spaced out along the walkways had begun winking on as the sun fell lower and lower, shadows dancing along the docks and turning the ocean into an endless stretch of inky black. Darkness brought a deeper layer of cold. She couldn’t stay here. She wasn’t even sure why she had come. The Julie whose laugh still lingered in this air had been lost long ago. Her memory wasn’t hanging around the old faded skill games. The Luke that had wasted countless hours and dollars here trying to win her one of those coveted arcade rings had been swept away by the gusts of icy air as easily as the particles of sand crunching underfoot. She had come here to find them not knowing they had vanished before she could even remember their existence.

Slowly, as if emerging from a dream, Julie unfolded herself from the cold wooden bench. Her heart ached, the hole there feeling extra empty at the moment. She breathed against the pain, unsure how a wound could still feel so sharp and fresh a year after injury. Shouldn’t she have started to heal by now? Sometimes it felt like only yesterday Luke’s words had ripped her to shreds. Sometimes it felt like only yesterday she had lost the other half of her soul.

Heavy feet carried lead legs back the same way she had come. The wind had picked up once the sun had gone down, Julie tucking her nose into the collar of her coat against the chill. She shuffled along the weathered path, refusing to move any faster than a snail’s pace. The younger ghosts of her and Luke may no longer haunt the colorful lights of the boardwalk but being here made her feel more at peace than anywhere else in the world. Even LA didn’t have the same sort of bittersweet homecoming attached to it as Coney Island did. She guessed that was just the price that must be paid when you finally confessed your everlasting love for your best friend at the peak of the Ferris Wheel after a sold-out show at Madison Square Garden. Some moments were too powerful to ever lose their emotional punch. Julie let herself get swept up in the memory for just a moment as she spun around in the neon lights beneath the never-ending grey clouds above.

The night had ben crystal clear above them, something Julie had never seen in a New York sky before or after that one single perfect instance. Luke had wrapped himself around her completely, using his superior body heat to ward off the evening chill. Alex and Reggie had long since disappeared into the mass of bodies surging around the pier. But Luke made sure to keep a hold on Julie. He made sure they never lost each other in the crowd. By the time they were in line for the Ferris Wheel, Julie knew there would never be a better time to confess to him. They had been dancing around it for years now, pushing back and forth as they toed the line between friends and something more. Underneath the million twinkling stars above and the otherworldly glow of the carnival lights, Julie had opened the softest part of her heart. Luke had looked at her with the promise of forever shining in his sea glass eyes, and promptly curled himself into the home she had made for him. If only someone had warned her that he might one day tear his way out of the sanctuary she had created just for him.

Tears stung the corners of her eyes, the liquid freezing against her skin as it spilled over and ran down her cheeks. This had been a stupid idea. What did she think she would find, returning to the scene of the crime a year later? Hadn’t it been enough that they had imploded in the one place she had always thought of as theirs? More than the studio, more than their house in LA, this boardwalk had been theirs. Did she really need to continue torturing herself with thoughts of what could have been if they had just been able to push their way through it? The golden sheen of their relationship could have been everlasting if they had only been willing to fight for it. The thought haunted her, alone in the dark as the sky began to weep icicle tears above her. She wondered where Luke was now, on this cold December night. Was he alone? Was he thinking of her?

Snow swirled around her ankles. Julie felt chilled to her very core. Her limbs moved in frozen, stilted movements as she forced herself to keep walking. She wasn’t doing herself any favors out here, but it felt right to suffer in this kind of frozen wasteland by herself. She was a woman against the world. Just her and this storm she fought every day anyway. She could handle it.

Then, like a mirage, another body began to take shape in the dim glow of the streetlights. White dusted their shoulders and head, feet kicking up little clouds of the frosty fluff with every step. Something about the way they moved was familiar. Not just familiar, it was known. The same way Julie knew exactly how many steps it took to get from her father’s house down to the studio where she had rediscovered herself with the help of her boys, with the help of Luke. The same way she knew exactly how to intertwine her voice with his in order to create a type of harmony never before accessed by either. The same way she knew how every inch of his body would feel if they pressed themselves together like they had countless times before. She stopped moving, gathering her coat as close as possible like a shield. He hadn’t noticed her. Just kept walking, head down, shoulders hunched against the wintery air. She waited until he wouldn’t be able to run. Waited until he was practically on top of her and she had no other choice than to speak up.

“Luke?”

[jougogo]

mascaras the haikyuu queens would borrow from my bag

based on my unhealthy obsession with mascaras (pls someone sponsor me)

also there’s a crack drabble at the end please read it im wheezing

shimizu kiyoko

bombastic by doucce: HAVE YOU SEEN THIS GIRL'S GORGEOUS LASHES im so jealous, anyways this mascara has a good wand and it's really good for achieving a more wispy/voluminous/full look IN LIKE ONE SWIPE WTF THIS IS A GODSEND. literally looks like lash extensions, i could go on and on about this mascara. not flaky and this will survive through workouts! doesn't give you raccoon eyes so it's good ! (coming from an athlete with an oily eyelids so dw i gotchu covered) a personal fav of mine teehee, ranked #1 in my bag.

hitoka yachi

it's real! benefit: this mascara is so so good at lengthening and giving off that natural look, which i think yachi would appreciate because she doesn't like too much attention and it's natural so she can sneak this by her mom nope def not speaking from experience it's really great for beginners, and also very reliable and trustworthy. this lil thing will get the job done, guranteed.

tanaka saeko

better than sex by too faced: this mascara just screams I N T E N S I T Y. it's super voluminizing and gives off the appearance of a fuller lash. on the more dry/creamy side so it's super great for beginners or if ur really hungover. also it's v v reliable, will give you wispy lashes every time! my go to when im late which is everyday but we don't talk about that

michimiya yui

bad gal bang! by benefit: another really natural one, good at separating, very VERY lengthening. dramatic enough so that it'll make you look more awake but still not enough to get daichi's attention rip.  but this shi!t will stay all day until you take it off. a little more liquidy so you get some time to fix any lashes that are stuck together. also, thin wand so great for bottom lashes as well! 10/10, very much recommend. 

shirofuku yukie

waterproof lights camera lashes by tarte: i feel like she's the type to be drinking her water but then when she puts it down too quickly the water just splashes right back in her face?? LMAO or does this only happen to me, but she needs her mascara to be waterproof! also bc of all the steam from the yummy food contests she's conquering! anyways the queen deserves the whole spotlight so she gets the beloved lcl by tarte! the wand is pretty thin but don't let that fool you, because this wand is so good at lengthening and separating lashes. really good at holding curls. 

suzumeda kaori

lash sensational from loreal: pls give this poor girl a break i cant even imagine running around the fukurodani team with bokuto's antics, they've definitely broken into her bags more than once and messed up her stuff. so she had to get the cheap drugstore mascara just in case </3 but its okay because this is one of my top 3, the consistency is really good and the wand is so amazing gahh, it has like different combs on different sides so if you have that one pesky pair of lash that just sticks together it'll be super easy to fix. perfect for on the go

misaki hana

kush mascara by milk makeup: you can't convince me that this girl isn't exhausted from the antics of johzenji, which makes this mascara perfect for her! the consistency is on the creamy/dry side so a couple quick swipes will get you the full lash. plus it's infused w some cannabis oil so it makes ur lash healthier (but terushima will definitely try to do some experiments w this so please hana guard it safely)

amanai kanoka

lash next door by brooklyn and bailey: ok ok so my fav thing about this mascara is that it's not waterproof so it's easy to take off, but it's water resistant so that it won't come off when you're all sweaty!! literally perfect for intense practices, and the wand is similar to lcm by tarte so they wield pretty similar results; sweet, curled, lengthened lashes!! and DOES NOT FLAKE it's literally a life saver

alisa haiba

liquid lash extensions by thrive: this mascara definitely the one i use the most! It’s unique in the sense that it’s a tubing mascara, so it’s water resistant which is great for alisa because she keeps tearing up every time lev messes up a serve (we stan a responsible sis) BUT it’s also very easily removed! just splash some warm water and the mascara literally slides right off im not even kidding. she definitely takes really good care of her appearance and will be sad even if she sees one eyelash fall so this is really great for her bc waterproof mascara is such a pain in the ass to remove. also very lengthening

yamaka mika 

lash multiplier by revlon: mika is a baddie!! but daishou makes her cry so much she has to rebuy a tube like every month. so our lovely mika gets something easy, cheap, and has a good effect for puppy eyes. this mascara is just like the liquid lash extension; a tubing mascara,,,HOWEVER this one is WAY CHEAPER. u can def find this at ur local drugstore for like 6-8 bucks. great for on the go since it's easy to apply super fast, will get u a nice full fringe in like 3 swipes.

nametsu mai

damn girl! by too faced: how could i forget our beloved date tech manager,,,mai is def the scariest on date tech and she will let you know!!! this mascara is essentially a sequel to better than sex; your lashes will be bigger, fuller, and more glamorous! also the formula is literally so light it's like whipped cream,,, you will not feel a thing guranteed. it's like extensions but m a g i c

extra:

after being scolded by yukie for not getting dinner on time, the boys of the 3rd gym strolled through the dimly lit hallway on the way to the cafeteria. "yo, you know, i heard the girls bathrooms have couches or whatever," kuroo said, noticing the girl's bathroom as they walked past it. 

"what! thats not fair!" bokuto whined. "how come the girl's stuff are always nicer? the boy's bathroom always just stinks, and there's always pee on the ground for some reason. like why can't you just aim? it's not that hard." 

"well, im sure for short people, like maybe yaku-san or shoyo it's easy. but it's hard to aim when you're very tall!" lev explained brightly. in the onsen somewhere, morisuke yaku felt shivers go up his spine and a sudden urge to punch someone.

"lev, are u sure ur not the one peeing the floor? c'mon, man this is why we don't get nice things in our bathrooms!" kuroo groaned, flicking the first year’s forehead.

"well, it's just a rumor," akaashi explained, lifting the hem of his shirt to wipe off the sweat on his face. "there might not be a couch in the girl's bathroom."

"why don't you go find out?" tsukki taunted with a devilish grin on his face. 

"i don't think this is a good idea," akaashi remarked, albeit a bit too late as hinata, kuroo, lev, and bokuto already sprinted down the hallway. 

"aww, no couch" bokuto disappointedly wailed when he stepped into the girl's bathroom. 

"well, this is a school bathroom after all," kuroo admitted as he flipped on the light switch. the bathroom was cleaner than the boy’s, for sure, but after all the outrageous tales they had expected to find at least a little something out of the ordinary.

"hey, what's this?" hinata was pointing to a bright pink makeup bag that was lying open on the counter.

"ooh, one of the managers must’ve left it behind! whose bag is this, is there a name on it?" lev rushed over to the bag and turned it upside down. dozens of colorful tubes and compacts fell out, splayed across the counter.

"whats this tube?" hinata asked, holding up a metallic pink tube.

"well, what does it say on the tube, dumbass?" tsukki smirked from the door frame he was leaning on. akaashi hesitantly stood behind him, questioning if entering the girl’s bathroom was a good decision. 

"better..than sex!" hinata read aloud, a bit louder than he had intended to. everyone froze, and stared at the little pink tube.

"wait what the fu- hold up lemme see that," kuroo aggressively grabbed the tube from hinata's hands and twisted it open

"oh it's just macasara," bokuto said. they shouldn’t have been surprised, considering it did come out of a makeup bag.

"do you think the name is true?" kuroo was actually curious about this. is the little pink tube of innocent looking mascara the reason that girls were refusing to go out with him?

"let's see," bokuto snatched the tube out of kuroo's hand and started swiping on the pigment on his lashes, his mouth agape and head tilted back as he intently stared at his reflection in the mirror.

"it's been 10 minutes since we called the boys, should we check up on them?" yachi said nervously. the other girls turned and looked as if she had just made a revelation. "you're right, bokuto always sprints up for dinner and he looked pretty eager when we gave him his notice," kaori said nervously. "and everyone knows that the nekoma boys shouldn't be left alone, they're chaotic," shirufuku remarked. "that's so true...lets go find them," the rest of the managers agreed, taking off their aprons and stepping out of the cafeteria.

however, they heard the boisterous laughs a floor away. cautiously, kiyoko led the group down the stairs and followed the sound. imagine their surprise when they found the noise coming from inside the girl's bathroom. 

"um, we're the only girls here…" yachi whispered. they crept up closer and closer until they were right outside. kiyoko put her finger to her lips and motioned for the girls to line up against the wall just in case. "okay, we'll open the door in 3…" she put her hand on the knob. "2…" it seemed like time was in slow motion as everyone's heart pounded loudly. "1!"

kuroo and hinata have mascara on their eyebrows, streaks of black pigment under their eyes and all over their cheeks like some kind of war paint. akaashi is holding an eyelash curler, trying to curl bokuto's eyelashes all the while bokuto is smacking akaashi's hand away.

"it looks like a torture device!" he cried.

"bokuto-san, it's suppose the enhance the lengthening effect,"

lev is trying to give himself a mustache by swiping on hair-like strokes with the mascara wand, and ever the opportunist, tsukki is in the corner, taking blackmail pictures

"oh, hi!. . . girls" hinata trailed off when he saw the horrified managers through the mirror. every face in the room paled white as a sheet. 

extra no.2:

"wait how do i take this off, it's not coming off with water!!" bokuto wailed, slumping against the sink

he had unfortunately, picked the waterproof mascara.

the managers agreed that they have all conveniently ran out of makeup wipes

[coraxaviary]

Spier(s)

Summary: A discussion about the name Speirs, and what it implies.

Word Count: 1.5K

Author’s Note: At end

Warnings: Basically none.

Taglist: I don’t think this kind of fic is what taglists are for

.

“So uh, you ever wonder why his name is Speirs?” Skip says from one of the barn beams, far above. He has a single straw of hay between his teeth, and he talks around it, slurring slightly.

“Whatcha mean?” responds Malarkey, who lazily cranes to look up at Skip, whose legs are dangling so he can’t see his face. Malarkey absently worries his rifle strap between his fingers, and lays farther back into the hay. “You mean his first name?”

“Nah, his name. Speirs,” says Skip back with overly hollowed-out vowels, and he spits out the hay. “Like, why?”

“Don’t think it does good to wonder anything ‘bout him,” says Penkala, sitting against the wall, fiddling with a field ration package. The sky is darkening outside, and there are only a few rays of sunlight that slip through the cracks between the wooden slats in the barn. Soon there would be none. Penkala moves into the spotlight of one last white streak of light, and makes small foil crunching sounds until the bag opens.

“His name is Speirs. But, like,” says Skip, echoing from above. “Two of ‘em. Two Speirs.”

“It’s not spelled the same,” says Malarkey. The barn door creaks open, and the three men see a pair of silhouettes slip inside and close the door.

“Hey fellas,” says a strange voice. It’s not exactly deep, but it is familiar.

“Sir?” says Penkala, straightening in sudden fear.

“Hell naw,” says Luz, bursting out in laughter. The other tall man -- Toye, it seems -- laughs quietly behind Luz. “It was that good?”

“Yeah,” says Penkala shortly, and he goes to sit back down in the hay.

“Hear y’all talking about Speirs,” says Luz loudly, and all the other men shush him. “Not like he’s gonna appear if ya say his name.”

“Don’t tempt fate,” says Skip.

“How’d ya get up there?” asks Toye, looking up at Skip, who is swinging his legs but not really able to do anything but sit.

“Ova there,” says Skip, pointing to a ladder that leads to a shallow loft. “Climbed on the beam.” Skip looks down at the ground, a long distance away. “Maybe I should get back, huh. Should get some sleep.”

Toye doesn’t say anything, just hums in passive agreement. Penkala eats his rations, staring somewhere distant.

“So, whatcha think, Luz?” says Skip, voice moving back eerily in the barn as he scoots along the beam back to the loft. “Why ‘Speirs?’ Why ain’t he named ‘Speir?’“

Malarkey snorts. Penkala chews. Toye moves around fluffing up hay to find a good place to sleep, and Luz shuffles.

“Ain’t names just... passed down?” says Luz. Malarkey mm-hmms in agreement.

“I guess,” says Skip, who is now trying to dismount from the beam and get into the loft, hanging awkwardly with one leg and both arms hooked over the beam, and his other leg -- too short -- scooping for purchase, inches away from the loft floor. He untangles himself, hangs by only his arms, and makes it onto the loft with a hollow bang and a cloud of dust. “But his name. Implies there may be a Speir. A single Speir.”

There’s silence, broken at this point only by Skip thumping down the creaking ladder and Penkala spooning more rations into his mouth with a clack of teeth on metal.

Luz makes a sound of revelation. “I got a story.”

“Thought you were gonna answer my question, Luz, but okay--”

“It’s the answer.”

“Oh, alright,” says Skip, finally on the floor, and he crashes down next to Malarkey, sending flicks of hay into the air. Malarkey coughs, waving a hand uselessly through the dust.

“So, uh,” says Luz. “I read somewhere in an article or something--”

“Didn’t know you read, Luz,” interrupts Malarkey.

Luz continues, unperturbed. “That sometimes you got siblings, like twins or something. But one’a them doesn’t make it. Dies, I think. Can’t exactly remember.”

Penkala shifts uncomfortably, and shoots a glance out a crack in the wooden panels to look in the general direction of Dog Company.

“So, like, inside the mom, like... the womb,” says Luz, “One’a them eats the other. And they become, like, uh, one kid.”

There is silence for a few beats.

“You’re saying his name is Speirs because he ate his twin in the womb,” Malarkey says sarcastically, not so much a question as a sarcastic statement of conformation.

Luz nods uselessly in the darkness. “Yeah.”

Malarkey turns to Skip. “Ask dumb questions, get dumb answers,” he says.

Penkala suddenly laughs through a mouthful of food. “So there were two’a them Speirs and then he ate one? He’s actually two combined separate Speirses?”

“Well, where else would he get his creepy personality?” says Luz.

“Hey, he’s not creepy,” interjects Toye. “Just got some dark rumors around him.”

“Rumors which are based on reality,” says Malarkey. “Remember I told you, when I was walkin’ away after he handed ‘em all--”

“Yeah, yeah, you told us this story a thousand times, Malark,” says Skip. “But I mean, it would explain some things if he did eat a twin in the womb--”

“Wait, wait,” says Penkala. “You got this all wrong. For Speirs to have his name, it got passed down by his dad, right?”

The men chorus a series of mm-hmms, except for Malarkey, who sighs.

“So it was someone way before his dad. The original Speirs. The original Speirs started out a Speir, and it was him who ate his twin.”

“Hey, this is all based on an assumption,” Malarkey begins, sitting up straight with his M-1 in his lap. “I’m sure Luz isn’t even right about eating babies. It sounds like bullshit news to me--”

The barn door creaks, and all the men go quiet, eyeing the door with trepidation. It’s someone tall and straight-backed, an officer. Toye stands up, and all the others do too, until a voice from the door tells them to go back to whatever they were doing.

“Just checking up,” says Winters with a comforting nod that is lost in the dark to half of the men. He gives no sign that he had heard their conversation, except perhaps a slightly raised eyebrow. The men who notice tell themselves that they are overreacting. Winters wouldn’t believe they were seriously discussing the eating of babies, would he? He drums on the door with his fingers, and starts to close it. “Goodnight, boys.”

“ ‘Night, sir,” the enlisted men say, and the door shuts with a creak and a small thud. The men stay in silence for a while, thinking, and the sound of crickets rises in the distance. Someone shifts against the hay, and Penkala rustles with the last of his ration pack, and clangs around with his spoon.

“Hey, guys?” says the voice of Skip into the silence. Malarkey groans, already thinking he knows what Skip is going to say. If it isn’t what he predicts, it would probably still be a brain-dead statement anyway. “If Speirs ate the other Speir and that’s why his name is Speirs, then did Winters eat a Winter?”

The silence that follows is short and shocked. Penkala and Luz gasp momentarily, and Toye sputters out a sound of indignance.

“Oh my God,” said Malarkey, and he settles back deeper into the piles of hay, trying to close his eyes and drift off to sleep.

The sounds of argument drift far over the barn and out past the thin wood slats, carried by the cold French wind eastwards over Dog Company. Ronald Speirs, at the edge of his company, sitting by himself with a can of rations, wonders what the men in the barn are talking about.

He lights a cigarette for himself, and takes a drag, feeling the burn in his lungs and the smoke going down and then circling in his sinuses when he blows it out through his nose. Someone on the border of Easy stumbles by in the deep, murky darkness, and he swears to himself, kicking at the rock in his path. Speirs can’t tell who it is, but he still keeps his cigarette case in his hand, knowing the low flame-colored glow of his lit one will illuminate a small area in the relative dark.

“Cigarette?” asks Speirs into the impenetrable black of night.

“N-no, sir,” gets out the man, who lingers for a second before absconding westwards into the safety of his company and the seeing eyes of the watchers stationed around the border.

Speirs almost smiles to himself, tucking the case back into his pocket, and he enjoys the cigarette while it lasts. It doesn’t last long, like most things, and he drops it onto the ground and watches it sputter before grinding it into the dirt with the heel of his boot.

He listens to the drifting conversation of the East men in the barn until it becomes wavering static, and the sky and its stars become too bright.

And he thinks briefly of his family -- Mother, Father, and the four others. He lays down in the grass and dirt, and then thinks of the one who had been.

It is not now, and yet a part of him. He smiles, eyes sparkling and teeth gleaming, and he lets himself dig deep, for a millisecond, for the other.

And then they sleep.

.

Hi, this is a 2:00 am random idea that me and my sister were scream-laughing about: Why is Speirs plural? And what do the men think about it?

I don’t usually write in present tense, but today it kind of came out and I think it lends the prose a kinda weird, immediate, present feel, kinda like you enter the void of starless night where you encounter Keter-class abominations and eldritch terrors for one dream a day and then this strange universe that contains a nightmare Speirs is what plays in your head lol

As always, this is not meant to reference the real historical soldiers. This is based on the fictionalized HBO versions.

I made art for this, by the way.

.

[nobodyeverasked]

00:00; mark tuan

(6293 words) - large

summary - there’s one small second where the world holds its breath. In that second, you feel okay.

Y/N tried to withstand the symphonies of the sunlight lulling him to sleep as he pinched himself through his sweatshirt sleeve and squinted at the projector ahead of him, really debating why he took Art History for the third year in a row despite how much he hated it. He needed the credit for his internship program in the summer, but he didn’t know he was going to have to withstand this kind of torment. 

He let his sighs dissolve into the pages of his textbooks which piled up his heavy eyes and tried to focus on the man gesturing enthusiastically at a black and white picture of a historic art figure Y/N swore he saw two slides ago. Professor Cross was a tall, gaunt man with nothing in his wardrobe other than those sweater vests that were so washed out of their colour Y/N almost sympathised with them. They looked like they were tired of his lessons too; the threads bouncing around his writhing arms looking like they wanted to rip themselves off and hide away in the nearest washing machine. Y/N thanked them for staying on, though, he ran out of eyebleach when he had to sit through an entire presentation by the junkies behind him on why erotica is the pinnacle of artistry and how modern interpretation and segregational stigmatism is the bane of humanity.

Don’t worry, Y/N didn’t stay awake for that one either.

He almost gave into the sleepiness that pulled at his eyes and weighed down his shoulders until a head leaned onto his, and heard a dramatic huff he knew all too well. He combed those famous brown and blonde box-braids out of his face and turned to face the one person in this entire college he didn’t entirely dislike. Gloria Antoine. One of the only people that was there to dash to his front door and cook some month-old ramen from the back of his pantry and be there to hear his rants that seemed to only surface under the veil of the moonlight. 

“Remind me why this is important…?” Gloria groaned and Y/N struggled to hide a chuckle in his sleeves. “I’m like, I get it, but why…?”

“You don’t find Cezanne’s works transcendent?” Y/N poked Gloria’s cheek before she lifted her head off his shoulder. “I wonder if Mcdonalds is still hiring?”

Gloria stifled a cackle and they both looked forward to the screen, letting the whispers of their laughter flutter around them and fuel the flames that lay smouldered under his fingertips. Y/N turned his hand over, the memories of the night prior still ingrained in his mind, still blessing every beat of his heart that pounded at the thought of the guy that made every second they spent together - in and out of each other’s arms - so special. Mark Tuan. He remembers the knot of devotion tied between them as they laid back on the hood of Mark’s mustang and looked at the canopies of ivory stars that gleaned like spotlights and spilled on their skin. He remembers Mark taking his lips with his own and the cold metal under them rendering itself useless. Mark was the arms of sanctuary that wound around his waist and would never let go. The feeling of safety and freedom, the moments that made Y/N feel like a bird soaring through a cloudless heaven.

 Mark was his everything, the vows of affection that tumbled out of them on their lazy Fridays, the sheets between them that scorched their bodies and drowned them in the waves of their own admiration. He was almost too good to be true sometimes. He sometimes felt so unworthy to feel the heat under Mark’s fingertips, to be scorched by the skin that runs so sweet under his tongue, like the stars under Mark’s skin always shone too bright, were always too beautiful for Y/N’s skies whenever they aligned.

Even so, he couldn’t wait for the bell to sound so he could fall into Mark’s embrace, drown himself in the haze of coffee and cherries that always reminds him of the clementine skies they shared on rooftops together, brings him back to when they had the golden sunlight carve out their leather-studded kisses in the sands.

Their nights draped in the Shanghai moonlight are all just a blur now, blissful memories that hang on the edge of their tongues-

The bell sent Y/N careening out of his trance and up to the students that scrambled for the exit, hoping to escape the clutches of black coffee are boredom that swelled in the room like pungent stench. He could hear Gloria whoop before jumping out of her seat and tossing her back over her shoulder, barely able to contain her excitement for the fact that this lesson was finally over. She tugged at Y/N’s arm, gesturing her head to the door and Y/N followed her out, the stiff smile he held out to Professor instantly falling off his face as he stepped through the doorway like a breath he didn't know he was holding.

He followed Gloria to her locker where her friends waited there expectantly, tapping away at their phones to distract themselves from the concept of socialization. Abbey - the blond one…? He didn’t remember - greeted Gloria with a hug and an avalanche of words came tumbling from their lips, frantic chatter taking over their small circle. Y/N just leaned onto the lockers behind them, taking in all of the latest ‘tea’ Abbey had to spill, wishing he could take in the melodies of his midnight conversations with Mark instead. Gloria snatched him down from the clouds of euphoria that began to swallow him up and wrapped her arm around his shoulders, bringing him back into the circle and turning him towards a new girl that he somehow didn’t notice stepping into their conversation. The shy hunch in her shoulders and the demure shimmers in her hazel eyes danced in the amber sunlight contorting to the busting chatter going on around them.

Was she Abbey…? Or was she Britney…? He didn’t remember, and he genuinely didn’t know if he wanted to care.

“Hey Y/N, this is Stella, she’s new here and I met her in my Bio class.” Gloria gestured towards the girl whose eyes were taken over with a flourish of confidence as she heard Y/N’s name.

“This is Y/N?” Stella’s smile was weirdly wide and brilliant. Y/N just smiled back awkwardly, Gloria’s arm that comfortingly wound around his shoulders failing to shed the shivers of awkwardness that slithered down his spine. “You’re the one that’s dating Mark, right?” Stella stepped closer, he could see the brilliance of admiration shine in her eyes, light up her smile. The same light which ignited every one of Mark’s laughs as they swayed in their living room,  the light that wound around them and dyed their most cherished memories, the light that was caught between their lips as they sealed their kisses in their indigo night. “Oh my God, Mark Tuan… I’m sad he transferred schools, he’s so hot.” Gloria could feel Y/N tense up and opened her mouth to cut in, but Y/N stopped her with a shrug.

“Yeah, he’s pretty amazing.”

“I know we just met, but I’m gonna be honest with you Y/N. Just for the one-time.” Stella building up her statement didn’t help the blissful toxins that bloomed under the violet tapestries of Mark’s admiration adorning Y/N’s chest from running bitter like as and stinging with regret. “I have no idea how you copped that. You’re lucky as hell.”

“Well, Mark’s pretty lucky too, Stella. Y/N can actually stay awake in art history.”

“Thanks Gloria…” Y/N shook his head. Gloria was always there to be his hype-woman when he needed her. “It’s not that impossible, right?” He turned back to Stella, trying not to let the doubts that boiled in his stomach and spilled out in smokescreens in his mind leech into his resolve too much. Y/N forced down a frown, trying not to snarl in the face of Stella’s unyielding persistence to make his kisses on mark’s skin feel paper thin, feel stone cold, like the paradise in his hands that Mark said was always there was nothing but a mirage.

“I mean-”

Gloria slammed her locker closed with a nudge of her knee and whipped her head towards Stella. “Thanks for the Ted Talk, Stella, but Y/N and I need to get going. I’ll see you girls tomorrow.” She didn’t pull back the punch of her glare into Stella’s hazel eyes as she nudged Y/N around the corner, taking his hand and escaping the estrogen-fest that did nothing but beat Y/N down. “I’m sorry, Y/N. We were vibing in Bio, I don’t know what happened.” Gloria shifted her gaze over to Y/N, his resolve crumbling in one defeated sigh. Y/N tried to focus on the clicking of Gloria’s heels against the white tile floors of the hallway before pushing his words past his teeth.

“It’s okay, Gloria.” He tried not to let her words bite too deep into his skin, to keep the stars under his skin that would always wait to align with Mark’s from fading in the whirlwinds of Stella’s words that kept Y/N with his fist clenched in his pocket and the hold on his textbook tightened to his chest. “How did I get a man like Mark? He’s literally everything, and I’m just a guy with a seventy average and a dream laid to waste..” Y/N stopped walking, gaze trained to the shine in the freshly waxed floors and the reflection of his eyes that held too many questions and not enough answers. Gloria froze where she stood and snapped her head to her best friend, someone usually so confident, so in love with themselves in others, now his voice was barely above a whisper fading in their breaths that echoed in their silence. She grabbed his shoulders, and brought his gaze up to hers, looking at him with a wildfire of determination lapping at her dark brown eyes.

“Hey, I know it’s been hard cause everyone seems to have a hard-on for comparing you two just because you’re dating, which sucks. Stella sucks. But you’re the best and you deserve to know it, okay? He’s so lucky to have you, because you’re so dedicated to him and me and us and you, and you’re so loyal. You’re beautiful, okay? You’re beautiful and talented and amazing.” Neveah took an exaggerated breath, a smile beginning to frame her lips as Y/N’s chuckles resonated between them. “Don’t-”

“Ah! Y/N! I’m glad you’re still here!” Y/N and Gloria turned their heads to the monotone voice they’ve grown to fear. It was Professor Cross, walking up to them and waving his arm above his head. 

“Can’t catch a break, huh?” Gloria and Y/N let their laughter fade into the evening air. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, and coffees on me.”

“Six shots of espresso or I’m suing.”

“Your wish is my command, Y/N.” Gloria wrapped him up in a hug before scampering towards the exit.

“Y/N!” Professor Cross called again despite their distance. Y/N tried not to scrunch his nose as he could smell the coffee and disappointment in his Professor’s breath, wedging his teeth into his lip as he suspected the hundreds of things that this could be about. He knows that he’s been falling behind, the worries and stress that riddled his mind like a plague and withered his willpower leaving him to stare at his essays with nothing but doubt, nothing but his knowing that he’ll never be smart like Mark. His favourite moments with Mark were when that didn’t matter, when knowing complex historical milestones or bisecting segments on invisible squares never came spilling from their lips like their vows of affection did. “We need to talk about your marks in my class…”

“I-I know, Professor Cross, I’m in a slump right now but the summative will bring my mark up, I’ve been working on a piece-”

“I know, I know, but I didn’t expect you to hit a slump, Y/N. You’re one of the most enthusiastic students in my class. Granted, it’s art history, that’s not saying a lot, but I was surprised when I got the numbers for your last few tests. You know, I thought Mark would have a better influence on you, after all. He was always first in my classes.” Professor Cross tried to joke around, tried to bring some hollow laughter into the stale air trudging between them, but he knew he took it too far. He could see the fluorescent lights above chipping away at Y/N’s resolve, the hands clutching his anthro textbook gripping onto the spine. Y/N’s gaze shifted to everywhere except on the professor, deep breaths drying his throat and weakening his forced smile.

“I know, Mark’s smart, he used to be the top in the class, he’s been making art, fixing cars and changing the world, I know…” Y/N tried to wring the sweat out from his hands, doing his best to not let the sunlight streaming from the classroom windows to scratch into his skin too much. “I know, he’s the best, I know…” Y/N only shied away as Mr. Cross took a step closer. “I’ll get my grades up, I promise, I’ll try hard.”

“Y/N-”

“Have a good night, Professor…” Y/N could barely raise his gaze up from the ground, the weight of his professor's words dragging down on his shoulders and keeping his breath lodged into his throat. He turned away without a second thought and barely spared a glance towards his Art History professor before whipping himself around the corner of the nearest doorway. He needed to escape, he needed to escape from the spotlight that burned into his head and constantly sung his inadequacies into his ears  whenever he let his mind wander. This was no swansong that so easily fell from between Mark’s lips, and this light was not the ivory whisper of the starlight that would alway drape over their entwined fingers. 

He tried not to let his inner thoughts consume him as he made it to the main gates, the smokescreen of his doubts boiling, bubbling under the breath he finally let out as the amber sunlight followed in his footsteps to the main courtyard of the campus.

*

Mark leaned against the side of his car, playing with the edge of his sleeve as he waited for Y/N in the front of the parking lot, bathing in the amber sunlight streaming from the golden sky. It’s been a few months of this routine, picking Y/N up and heading home to bask in the fires of their admiration together, and Mark could not get enough of it. Seeing Y/N’s tired smile bloom as they sat next to each other in the front, the lazy kisses and intertwined fingers making them grateful his windows were tinted. Mark couldn’t get enough of it, he wanted more, just to take Y/N in and all of the wonder that spilled out from between those beautiful lips - heaven’s gates - the edge that their secrets used to tremble on and now free fall into the oceans of their trust, their love.

He couldn’t help but beam as he saw Y/N finally scamper out of the entrance to his design college, but he didn’t notice Y/N’s shifting gaze and the dejection weighing on his shoulders. Mark only focused his gaze on Y/N’s eyes that seemed to sparkle in the gilded sunlight and his skin that glowed under the golden skies, his lips that always wrenched his gaze on them and reminded them of how sweet they tasted under his tongue and between his teeth. The stories they told, they could go on and on and he could spend hours listening to what they had to say. That head of hair still singed by his wandering hands and burning touch where he could bury his worries, and revel in the softness that he tangled between his fingers. Those shoulders he would wrap his arms around and feel the tides of their cherry chapstick crash on the shores of their adoration, the shores like those beaches they burned black with the circles they danced in the sands. 

“Hey, baby.” Mark wrapped his arms around Y/N’s waist and kissed the top of his head, lips trailing down to his cheeks and waiting, longing to paint his skin in tapestries of their compassion. Y/N just hid his face in Mark’s hands, eyes taking sudden interest in the pebbles on the concrete. “How were classes today?” Mark cradled Y/N’s cheeks between his hands and kissed his lips, his smile slowly fading as the one that shone behind Y/N’s pressed lips didn’t budge. “What happened? Did Mrs. Fletching go on about why colour theory is JUST A THEORY, A COLOUR THEORY!” 

Mark nudged Y/N’s chin up and pecked his lips, unknowing of the judging stares and jealous glares that dug into Y/N’s back and ripped out his spine Mortal Kombat style.

“Something like that…'' Y/N’s lips finally budged with a shrivelled whine, his head leaning onto Mark’s chest, hoping that his leather jacket and beautiful hands could hide him from his own shame and the girls that he knew were whispering about him by the library entrance. Y/N’s smile always sweetened the sparks that ignited between their teeth, and Mark wants to get that blissful glow under Y/N’s cheeks again. “Can we just head home?”

“Of course baby.” Mark opened the door for Y/N and then wound around the front to head in himself. “Do you want to talk about what happened? I really like your smile and…” Mark paused, trying to choose his words carefully so the heavy silence practically crushing the car could feel just a bit lighter. “I haven’t been seeing it a lot nowadays, you know I’d do anything to see you smile.” Mark caressed Y/N’s cheek, seeing a weak smile spread across his baby’s lips made him feel a tiny bit better, at least the words spun like silk from his lips could always make Y/N feel safe. He meant every word and wanted Y/N to know that.

“Maybe later? I just wanna get out of these tight-ass jeans and sleep…” Y/N shrunk back in the seat, with Mark’s touch melting from his cheeks and smoothing across his hands, the demons thrashing about in the pits of his stomach made and making him question his worthiness of such a man. A man who smiles in Y/N’s adversity… 

I don’t deserve him, Y/N thought as they pulled out of the parking lot and headed home.

*

Y/N sat on the couch, doodling on his tablet, one of Mark’s many sweatshirts that found their way into his closet on his body. Mark couldn’t resist the way Y/N looked in his clothes, the scent of coconut and lavender staining all of his shirts and the admiration that dripped down their necks in the nights under the moon drenching the collar of everything he put on. It was the smell of home to him, the touch of home to him, the feeling of home to him. Y/N’s fingers between his, the coffee flavoured kisses starting every one of their slow mornings. He shuffled over from the other side of the couch, raising to his knees to tower of Y/N’s huddled form and looked to the tablet to see what masterpiece he was conjuring on that screen this time. He played with Y/N’s hair, kissing his forehead and stroking his arms before scrunching his nose at Y/N’s focus on the brilliant screen between his hands.

“Y/N~” Mark kissed Y/N’s nose, earning the cutest little squeal he has ever heard in his life. “What d’you want for dinner…?” Mark straddled Y/N’s legs, playing with the hand that wasn’t vigorously scribbling on the screen with his stylus. Y/N leaned forward - eyes finally off that screen - to press his forehead to Mark’s. His big baby. Sometimes, in moments like these with the evening sunlight draped over their shoulders and the gleam of their smiles taken between their lips, he feels like he deserves this. Sometimes he deserves Mark, the most caring, affectionate, optimistic and beautiful man he’s ever met. But it just takes one day, one thing, one word to break that all down, to tell him he’s not worth him, not worth anything. The sting of his classmates’ glares still burned into his skull, etched themselves into his memories every time he and Mark kissed. 

Maybe they were right - he thought. Maybe… 

“Uhm~” Y/N sang into Mark’s skin, the fingers tracing the lines in his palm and the body inching itself between his thighs breaking his melody a little. His heart burned for Mark, longed for him, but did he deserve a man like that to fester the flames? To ignite the weathered stars under his skin? Sometimes when he ran his hand through Mark’s hair or listened to the symphonies of his precious heartbeats on the nights that used to leave him sleepless, he could feel his skin burn. Not with the sparks that writhe between their sweat-soaked chests, but with a toxin of those doubts that leech into every hesitant kiss he plants. “How about pizza?”

“Sounds good to me.” “You wanna come?”

“I think I’ll stay here, gotta get some stuff ready.”

“My hero.” “Turning on netflix and everything.”

“I know, superman was found jobless.”

“You’re everything superman wishes he was.” Mark headed to the door with a parting kiss Y/N wanted to last forever, until the sunset bled black. “And so much more~”

“I don’t deserve you.” Y/N widened his eyes as he realized what tripped over his tongue, he hoped Mark didn’t read into that too much. 

“You deserve the world, baby.” Mark hummed into the coffee-stained air of their house before slipping out the door, making sure to send a wink Y/N’s way. The scarlet in Y/N’s cheeks bit into his skin. He wanted it to feel good, the way Mark’s sweet nothings made his cheeks burn like wildfire. But so many voices in his head, Stella, Professor Cross, that one teacher that constantly calls him Mark’s boyfriend. They all started screaming, voices in his head that tore the feeling of Mark’s lips from his skin. 

As the door shut and Y/N sighed into the haze of silence settling in the house, he just let the voices twist and echo in his head and rip into his heart. He let them stifle the flames stoked between the symphonies of their twilight, he let them wash away the footprints in strawberry sands and make the coral sunlight that melts on their skin on those summer nights they’ll always cherish submerge him in pools of guilt.

“I don’t deserve you…”

*

Mark stumbled through the front door, kicking off his shoes with a stagger and proceeding into the surprisingly dark house. Pizza boxes in one hand, house keys in the other, he stalked into the kitchen with a cocked eyebrow. He presumed Y/N may have been napping, but he knows Y/N hates having all the lights off. Mark learned his mistake the last time they did that during one of their many journeys to thwart the waning moonlight together, Y/N in Mark’s arms as they tried their best to keep their eyes on a horror movie Mark said would be ‘just fine~’. He could still remember the popcorn they had to clean off their carpet and the nails that dug into his arms. Neither of them slept that night, but at least they had their midnight conversations and entwined grins to help ignite the starlight between them and ease the nerves that rumbled through their nervous laughter.

He sighed at the memory, still feeling the cinders of their admiration staining his fingertips as he dusted off his hands and walked towards the bedroom - going to retrieve Y/N from whatever blanket cocoon he was probably in -  but instantly halted when he heard sobbing scratch at the bathroom door. Desperate and fragile sobs freezing Mark in his place. He scrambled to the sound and rushed towards the bathroom, pressing his ear up against the door.

“Y/N?” Mark didn’t hide the panic beating senseless at his throat or the stress that fested under his shaking hands. He remembered Y/N’s silence, the hollow light of his weak smiles. He remembers how Y/N’s gaze always fell to the floor and how the kisses to his fingers as of late weren’t moulded by the grin he loves to see. Why couldn’t he see this before? 

He kept his forehead on the door, wincing as the sobs and whines from behind it instantly stopped as Mark called out Y/N’s name again. “Y/N… What’s wrong? Can I come in?” Mark didn’t know how to handle this… The stench of grief that oozed from under the door and rose to his ankles. He didn’t hear an answer, but pushed past the silence and saw Y/N in the corner, knees hugged to his chest. Y/N’s head snapped up to the sound of footsteps and let a gasp rip through his sobs as he clambered to his feet.

Mark put his hands on Y/N’s shoulders, stopping him in his place before he could escape. 

“Y/N…” 

He didn’t like this, seeing the tears rolling down Y/N’s cheeks, staining his hands and carving rivers into his skin. He sat Y/N back down onto the floor wrapping his arms around Y/N without a second thought. “What happened?”

“I...I…” Y/N tried to choke out some sort of excuse for why he was feeling this way, battling through the smoke and breaking the mirrors that housed a reflection he despised. He brought his knees closer to him, his efforts to wipe away the onslaught of tears staining his sweatshirt stopped by Mark, who took Y/N’s hands into his own and kissed his knuckles softly, his face contorted with confusion and worry. “I really don’t deserve you… The more I thought about it, what everyone’s been saying, the truer it seems.”

“Y/N- what are you talking about? You-”

“You’re the most beautiful, empathetic, loving man I have ever met. You can do anything you set your mind to and even when I decide to let my thoughts take over and consume me, you’re still there to hug me and kiss me and hold me even when I ignore you or dismiss you. Everyone is so right… You’re too good for me, your everything is too good for me, Mark. I-”

“Stop!” Mark shook his head violently, taking Y/N’s face in his hands and standing him up. “What are you talking about? Who’s making you feel this way?” Mark’s voice was barely above a whisper as he brought Y/N away from the corner, wiping his tears as he waited for an answer. Something. 

Even with Y/N’s face between his hands, his eyes still looked everywhere but him, Mark couldn’t stand it. Y/N was hurt, someone was hurting him, and he wasn’t telling him who it was! “Please, Y/N tell me, who-”

“ME!” Y/N tried to push himself away. “I… I don’t have a reason, but every day I look at you, I realize how worthless I am, how I could never do anything you do, and yet you come home or pick me up and you take me in your arms and tell me that I’m perfect…” 

The girls in the wallways...

“Every day I start to hate myself more and more because of who I am, what I look like, what I do or what I CAN’T do… And no matter who tells me to get over it, or that it’s just in my head, doesn’t understand that I can’t stop it!” 

Stella… Professor Cross… Everyone… Everything!

“I don’t know what to do, Mark… I love you more than anything. But I don’t deserve you… I don’t deserve your smile, or your love or your compassion because I’m ME! I’m a failure, I’m just another guy who’s trying to make his dying dreams a reality. I’m a guy who thinks he has everything down pat until the test comes up and I fail again, I’m the guy who lies about his problems ‘cause I’m always told they don’t matter. I’m just a commendable, malleable second choice for everyone around me and I don’t know how to stop it!” Y/N’s sobs ripped through from between his teeth, hitched breaths boiling in his throat as he hit his head against Mark’s shoulder. His cries took up the silence in a cacophony of sadness and anguish, and the light in his eyes that Mark could embrace himself in for hours died out like the withering flames of whatever confidence he had left. 

“Y/N…” Mark pulled Y/N into his embrace, hoping that his kisses to Y/N’s neck could straighten his frown or stop the chills of his cries from biting so deep. “I didn’t know you were feeling this way… I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t notice and I’m so sorry I let these thoughts get the better of you. They’re not true, not a single one.” 

“It’s not your fault, Mark… It never was, please don’t blame yourself.”

“We’re each other’s responsibility, right Y/N?” Mark angled Y/N’s chin and fixed their gazes, trying to take solace in the fading galaxies that embraced his boyfriend’s teary-eyed gaze, the stars that light his nights ablaze.

Mark pulled Y/N forward and turned him towards the mirror, wrapping his arms around his waist and setting his chin on Y/N’s shoulder. With a shaky breath, he entwined their fingers and pointed towards the mirror, leaving Y/N to cock his head their reflections. “You know what I see?” Mark kissed Y/N’s neck, feeling the fires of their adoration start to dance under his skin with every second Y/N spent in Mark’s embrace. “I see the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid my eyes on-”

“But-”

Mark stifled Y/N protests and let his tongue take their place, looking at Y/N with so much purpose, so much love. Even now, when the flames between their skin are just tiny sparks, even when the sunsets in their skies are pale with their cries and the tears drenching their hands and cheeks dwindle the lights in their eyes. Mark’s admiration never wavers, will never waver even if anybody wants to tell Y/N otherwise.

“You know what I see…?” Mark nudged Y/N’s nose with his, the small chuckle he earned from between Y/N’s lips made his hopeful smile that much brighter. “A gorgeous, compassionate individual, who is also an amazing artist and the best boyfriend a guy like me could ever ask for. You will never be a failure, Y/N, the mistakes you make now will only help you become an even more perfect guy if that’s possible. I know it’s hard to realize, especially now babe, but what those people down the hall or up the creek or whatever say, shouldn’t matter. They’re the same people that will marvel at every single thing you’ll create through those beautiful, beautiful hands. I can’t completely understand what you’re going through, but I’m here to stand with you, I’m here to help you respect yourself because you deserve it, Y/N. It’s hard to hear the love when the hate speaks so loud, I know… What others say though, shouldn’t affect you like this, they aren’t you, they don’t know what your can do or what your precious, pure heart is capable of. I know you love me so much. I know that. Sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve you, with the weird looks we used to get in public or those people that don’t know what love is or how free it should be. But when I drop by to pick you up or come home and see that smile and hear your beautiful voice, it helps me believe. It helps me believe that I’m worthy to wake up next to you or to see you embody the moonlight you hold in your hands.” Mark took a breath, looking up into the mirror to see Y/N’s teary-eyed gaze and a smile as brilliant as the sheets of starlight that drape around their shoulders on the nights they’ll never forget. 

Y/N whipped around and threw his arms around Mark, the arms instantly tightening around his waist and the lips ghosting his ear leaving Y/N’s sobs as nothing more than shrivelling whispers behind Y/N’s grin. The flames of their admiration that lapped at their hearts in delicate flames burst under their fingertips and spiralled between their breaths. Mark pressed his forehead to Y/N’s, the sweetness of Y/N’s skin that ran under his lips like velvet and the light of his smile that made the sun look like a shadow made his chest swell in happiness. The wildfires embracing them and their hearts lifting the haze that choked out their sobs and letting their breaths of ease mould the soft kisses Mark traced Y/N’s cheeks with.

“I love you, Y/N. You mean so much to me… I just want to show you how special you are, not just to me, but to yourself too…” Mark’s breath was caught in his throat as Y/N entwined their lips with a flourish, tongues caressing lips that curled into grins as soon as Mark’s back hit the wall. Tear stained breaths burned up in cinders to reveal languishing sighs, the streams of sunlight now stained with their quiet laughter and the ruby red that painted their kisses.

“I… I don’t know what to say…” Y/N held the hands that cupped his cheeks and pressed them to his chest, kissing Mark’s knuckles as their giggles ignited the dreary darkness of their bathroom. “I didn’t expect all of that, thank you, Mark. I love you more than anything and you mean the world to me. I’m sorry-”

“No apologizing!” Mark freed his hands and messed with Y/N’s hair, scrunching his nose and burying his kisses into the hair he would knead through as the summer rain sang it’s melodies at their window, or when the glow of the clementine skies of their autumn evenings finished carving out the ripples of their sheets and ran weathered between their restless hands. He draped his arms around Y/N’s waist, looking down to his pout he couldn’t help but kiss away with a blissful, lovestruck grin plastered onto his face. Y/N just leaned onto Mark’s chest, breathing out into the symphonies of silence that surrounded them and the violet evening that began to bloom above the rooftop of their house. 

They enjoyed the silence that draped over them like the ashen sheets just two doors over that housed their safest sounds, the amber sunlight stepping through the door and painting their grins gold like the honey that embraced their most cherished memories. 

“Now, I, as your amazing, loving boyfriend brought home pizza that’s probably freezing cold by now. Would you care to accompany me on my journey to the microwave?” Mark let his stray fingertips prod at Y/N’s waistband, failing to hide his smile as playful shrieks soaked into his neck - music to his ears.

Y/N just remembered why Mark went out in the first place, making him wince into Mark’s skin. He hummed at Mark’s proposal. 

“Microwaved pizza… How romantic…” Y/N followed Mark out of the bathroom, tightening the knot of devotion that burned between their interlaced fingers, their giggles spinning into the gold that dripped from their smiles. The sweetness of the air following them out into their hallway that surrounded all of their midnight walks down the block shoving their heads under the reckless waves of their ocean.

“I’m honoured, my beloved.” Mark playfully nudged Y/N towards the wall, pressing him up on it and taking his skin between his lips. “I love you, baby…”

Y/N looked into Mark’s eyes, auburn gemstones of untainted beauty. The one place he could truly see himself - suspended in Mark’s star-studded gaze. Mark was the flowered path of happiness and acceptance he longed for every day the full moon peeked out to talk with him on his lonely nights. He did deserve this, he thought. He deserved to savour the air that stings with the sunlight they stir every morning, the fingers that tangle in his hair and worship him like a treasure, the ivory spotlight that hangs over their dancing tongues, the desire stuck between their teeth and dripping from garnet lips. Maybe he did. 

As he cradled Mark’s cheeks with hands scorched by the beautiful novas that burned between their lips, they let the blissful silence ignite between them and allowed their fingers to wander across skin they were blessed to memorize every inch of under the spotlight of the stars.

“I know, Mark. And I’ll never forget it.”

“You better not.”

[erisbaek]

Stucky Fic Rec [Part Two]

Here is part two of the fic rec, as promised by today! I don’t know how many parts this will be since I am constantly reading new fics, and adding them. Every fic added to this rec I have read, and would recommend, therefore they are my personal preference (meaning typically longer than 10k, and very few - if any - shrinkyclinks and ABO) Same as last time, I will provide the Google Doc link where I update the rec regularly, but if you’d prefer it formatted here, it is under the cut!

Google Doc Link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/10wqr5s-CzkFzLidQgt-y4-cjudHWwVeVPWCedMjK7t0/edit

If you want to recommend fics, you can do that as well! I only add fics that I’ve read. 

Watch Them Rolling Back

         Word Count: 16.9k          Rating: Teen and Up          Notable Tags: Post Infinity War, Canon Divergence          Warnings: Temporary Character Death          Synopsis: Bucky was just here, he was right here. This can’t be all that’s left. Well, it’s not all that’s left, not quite. There, in the pile of ash that used to be Bucky Barnes, already drifting to scatter across the soil of Wakanda, to dissipate in the air, to be nothing but dust on Steve’s hands and in his gasping mouth and in his lungs—left there, in that ash and dirt, are his gun, and his left arm, gleaming dully in the sunshine.

Hey Bartender, Pour ‘Em Hot Tonight

           Word Count: 22.9k            Rating: Mature            Notable Tags: Bartender!Bucky, Patron!Steve           Warnings: Smut           Synopsis: Steve looks down and catches sight of a bright pink drink in a hurricane glass. Moisture is beaded on the outside, and the cool feel of it is nice on Steve’s sweaty hand as he picks up the monstrosity Sam has ordered for him.

“What the hell is this?” Steve asks, a disbelieving smile on his face. “You couldn’t just order me a beer?” “You said to surprise you,” Sam smirks. “And you made me wait.” “But what is it?” Steve repeats, and is answered by a deep, unfamiliar voice. “It’s a Singapore Sling,” the man behind the bar is smiling. “Not what you were expecting?” In which Bucky is a bartender and Steve is immediately smitten. He's not the only one.

Roommate Wanted 

            Word Count: 61.7k             Rating: Teen and Up             Notable Tags: Roomate!AU, Secret Identity             Warnings: None             Synopsis: As Captain America, he’s one of New York’s finest heroes. But as regular old Steve Rogers? Nothing more than a struggling graphic designer who can't quite pay rent anymore. The solution? Get a roommate. Enter Bucky Barnes, aka the Winter Soldier, ex-brainwashed assassin turned hero trying to make up for his violent past. He needs a place to stay - preferably with a roommate who wouldn't mind his weird hours. Seems like the perfect match. Only problem? Neither knows the other is a hero.

These Streets

          Word Count: 5.4k                        Rating: Mature           Notable Tags: Cop!Steve            Warnings: Smut           Synopsis: The life and times of Police Officer Steve Rogers and his dealings with the not so classy residents of his local precinct, including Bucky Barnes, the rough muscle with the dreamy blue eyes.

(A Silent Prayer) Like Dreamers Do

             Word Count: 12.5k             Rating: Mature             Notable Tags: Soulmate!AU, Shrunkyclunks              Warnings: None             Synopsis: Everyone has a soulmate. Everyone. Since the counsel has been keeping records, there has been one exception to that rule, and considering the man, no one was very surprised. After all, Captain America, ne Steve Rogers, was the exception to all the rules. So when he plunged into the Atlantic in a plane loaded with enough explosives to take out the entire Eastern Seaboard, the nation mourned him, but the counsel breathed a sigh of relief. Their perfect record - a soulmate for everyone - was intact. When Bucky is five or six or seven, he has his first bonding dream.

The Tipping Point

             Word Count: 16.8k              Rating: Teen and Up              Notable Tags: Not CACW Compliant, Touch Starved              Warnings: None              Synopsis: Bucky shows up at Steve's door a week after he pulled him out of the Potomac. He brings his cat with him. Eventually, they stay.

Victims and Victories

             Word Count: 14.7k              Rating: Explicit             Notable Tags: Army!Steve,, Mechanic!Bucky             Warnings: Past Abusive Relationship, Mentions of R*pe/Non-Con, Assault              Synopsis: Steve Rogers is an Army Special Forces Captain. Bucky Barnes, former marine sniper, restores and sells old cars in his spare time. They meet one day when Steve is on a run and Bucky is running from his abusive ex. Steve turns out to be exactly what Bucky needs.

Strange Visitor (From Another Time)

             Word Count: 51.1k              Rating: Explicit               Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Hidden Identity, Reporter!Bucky, Slow Burn, Enemies to Friends to Lovers              Warnings: Slight Smut             Synopsis: James Barnes, rising star reporter of the New York Bulletin, has a plan. One, find out all there is to know about New York's newest vigilante Nomad, starting with his true identity. Two, write a masterful piece about it. Three, win a Pulitzer and become the envy of all his peers. Four, enjoy. Or, you know, something like that. One thing's for certain, though: he sure as hell isn't going to let that fucking asshole newbie Grant O'Connor steal his spotlight.

I Will Remember You

          Word Count: 15.4k           Rating: Teen and Up           Notable Tags: Temporary Amnesia           Warnings: None           Synopsis: Bucky is James now, and it takes Steve losing his memory to bring them back together He stares at the man, curious and wondering. “Who are you?”  “James Barnes.”  The man’s voice, and the way he shapes his consonants—soft and smooth and just a touch foreign—is almost, but not quite, familiar.  “Are we friends too?” he asks. “Yeah.” Huh. The way his body’s responding to James doesn’t seem very friend-like.

Travelling Light 

           Word Count: 56.8k            Notable Tags: Angel!Bucky, Dark Fantasy, Bonding            Warnings: Canonical Character Death, Smut            Synopsis: When Steve wakes up, it is a surprise. The last thing he remembers is the bottom of the lake, sharp teeth and yellow eyes, and the cold pressure of not being able to breathe. But he isn’t dead. He didn’t drown. He is not in the water anymore. Instead, he is warm, very much alive, and wrapped in a cocoon of feathers. He’s also naked. And with a man lying right next to him.

La Belle et la Bête

             Word Count: 66.7k              Rating: Explicit               Notable Tags: Beauty and the Beast!AU, Forced Marriage, Veteran!Bucky              Warnings: Body Horror, Smut              Synopsis: Steven Rogers was born in 18th century Ireland to a mother who knew herbs and the old ways. After she passes, Steve asks for aid and gets more than he bargained for. He’s cursed into the form of a beast by day and given 300 years to prove to the fae enchantress that such a thing as true love exists. If he can’t prove it, he’ll be whisked back to her realm and be forced to marry her. He can try to find love with whomever he wants, but they have to fall in love with him without seeing his human face for a year and a day. He spends hundreds of years searching, but so far, no one seems worth the risk. Bucky Barnes is a grumpy war vet whose sister is dying. Desperate, he goes in search of a flower that can save her, but the cost is higher than he anticipated: His sister’s life in exchange for his. When he returns to keep his side of the bargain, nothing in the mansion is what it seems.

Captain America and the Great Pygmalion Debacle

             Word Count: 31.7k              Rating: Explicit               Notable Tags: Friends to Lovers, Slow Build              Warnings: Smut              Synopsis: Bucky absolutely refuses to cut his hair and for the life of him Steve can't understand why. The reason? There's nothing in this world Bucky loves more than having Steve brush it...

Breath I’ll Take, and Breath I’ll Give

              Word Count: 17.1k               Rating: Mature               Notable Tags: Post CATWS               Warnings: PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts               Synopsis: It's starting to get harder for Steve to find reasons to get out of bed in the morning.

Lucky Seven

              Word Count: 94.3k               Rating: Explicit               Notable Tags:  Shrunkyclunks, Mechanic!Bucky, Russian!Bucky, Slow Burn                Warnings: Smut               Synopsis: Captain America trashes his motorcycle a lot. Tony says he'll fix it, then never gets around to it and just buys him a new one. Steve, the Depression-era kid, can't stand the waste and goes looking for somewhere near him in Brooklyn where he can get his bike fixed. That's how he finds Red Star Bike Repair, and the hot Russian-immigrant bike racer who runs it: all long hair and muscles and tattoos. And for the first time since he woke from the ice, Steve feels a connection to someone; a comfort in the other man's silences and his space, an attraction in his sheer skill at racing. But James Barnes isn't exactly who he seems…

The Arsonist’s Choir

            Word Count: 11.9k             Rating: Explicit             Notable Tags: Post CACW, (Kind of) Fake Marriage             Warnings: Smut             Synopsis: "It's Bucky," Steve added, helplessly. The buyer was now sitting at Mikhailov's table, but the mission seemed unimportant. "He's been arrested. In Texas. And, uh, apparently, we're married." "Congratulations," Natasha replied, with a small grin. "Are you registered anywhere?"

What a Dizzy Dance

          Word Count: 30.7k           Rating: Explicit           Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Model!Bucky, Neighbours!AU           Warnings: Smut           Synopsis: An AU where Bucky is a model but Steve is still Steve. They live next to each other and Bucky keeps accidentally stealing Steve's cat.

Separating Me From You

         Word Count: 14.8k          Rating: Mature          Notable Tags: Post CATWS          Warnings: None          Synopsis: After Bucky's recovery, in the face of SHIELD's rebirth, and as all the Avengers have found themselves at a comfortable place with themselves and each other, it should have occurred to Steve that something would go wrong. However, he could have never guessed that trouble would come in the form of the US Army deciding that, because Steve had signed himself over for Project Rebirth, he was technically still the property of the US Government. Property that they wanted to claim.

The Sweetest Spark

         Word Count: 73.1k          Rating: Explicit          Notable Tags: Modern!AU, Age Difference, No Powers          Warnings: Smut          Synopsis: Steve Rogers runs a successful business. He has great friends and a great life. It seems like he has it all. So why is he sitting in a diner on a Friday night alone? Maybe he's just a little lonely. Maybe Bucky Barnes can help with that. ----- It wasn’t just how he looked. Of course, the fact that he was ridiculously stunning was what Steve had noticed first when he’d spotted him across the diner and had left him staring with his mouth open before he’d realised what he was doing, but how could he not?...

A Memory Like a Haunting

           Word Count: 28.6k            Rating: Explicit            Notable Tags: Time Travel            Warnings: Smut            Synopsis: “Why is Bucky’s line disconnected?” Steve asks. “Steve, who are you talking about?” Clint asks. Steve glares at him. “Bucky. You know. The Winter Soldier. My boyfriend. Long hair, metal arm. Come on, guys, this isn’t funny.” “No one is laughing,” Natasha replies. “There is no one called the ‘Winter Soldier,’ and if you have a boyfriend, you certainly haven’t introduced him to us.” “JARVIS, can you tell me if Bucky is in the building?” he asks instead of responding to Nat. There is a long pause and then JARVIS’ clear voice comes down from the ceiling. “I have no records of anyone who goes by the name ‘Bucky’ entering the building.” Or: Steve wakes from a nightmare only to find that Bucky no longer exists.

Honeymoon Cabin

          Word Count: 16.8k           Rating: Explicit           Notable Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Post Avengers, Veteran!Bucky           Warnings: Smut            Synopsis: After a misunderstanding about the rental availability of the famed Honeymoon Cabin, two lonely men end up falling in love during a winter snowstorm that strands them in the same place.