#i got turned around near the school and somehow ended up walking past my old friend’s childhood home where her homophobic mother who reminds

[fingertipsmp3]

Just remembered I really definitely unambiguously need to shower tonight because I’m going out tomorrow

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Eight

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 

Authors Note: Hey! Quick note, this part has a LOT going on, it jumps from pov 2 or 3 times, but there's details mentioned that will make more sense later on, I hope that leaves no one confused:) Also there are a few new characters coming in, some will stay, some won't, so keep that in mind! I was gonna end this part like halfway through and then post, but it felt a little unfinished, so here it is hope you enjoy:))) x

Warnings: A short scene revolving around body image, mentions of scars, drugs, sobriety and heavy drinking

Masterlist

Messages now Jamie O (glasses!) In the area, fancy meeting up for coffee?

It had been a good few days since I had last messaged either Jamie or Matty. Though the latter hadn't seemed to have caught onto the fact that I had suddenly distanced myself. Jamie, on the other hand, had and had surprisingly given me some space with it. 

Well, up until now that was.

It was a weary sigh that escaped me when I gazed down at my phone, needless chatter of gossiping mums and squealing children having faded far into the background.

I had only just managed to drop Teddy off at nursery, dipping and diving through the crowd to deliver him right to the classroom door, and was already halfway out of the playground now. It was my first day off in weeks- like proper day off. And now, I had Jamie to deal with.

Alright, maybe that was a bit harsh, but saying that, I wasn’t so much of a twat to just ignore the first message he’d sent me in a while. Especially after I'd disregarded all of the man's previous efforts. Still I couldn't quite stop myself from huffing quietly as I shot him back a message, anxiety creeping in.

Messages now Closer to Tufnell Park than the studio at the minute

Jamie’s response came only seconds later.

Messages now Jamie O (glasses!) No worries! Meet you near The Dome?

Sidestepping a few latecomers as I exited the school gate, I chewed on my bottom lip but eventually sent a text to let Jamie know that I'd be there. I only hoped that the man didn't ask too many questions about my sudden disappearance, I wasn’t too sure I could take the heat.

Early morning rush hour was in full swing by the time I’d made my way out onto the highstreet, people bustled past me to get to work without a care, or even an apology, for anyone who got in their way, zooming on ahead like a soldier in a storm. That was one of the things that had taken me some time to get used to, in truth. How different the crowds of London were to the tiny population of my hometown.

I'd just surpassed the underground station when I caught sight of a vaguely familiar head of dishevelled hair. Jamie stood a way ahead, smiling at the passersby with his hands shoved deeply into the lining of his coat's pockets. He wore a pair of dark, fitted trousers and had a smart looking scarf thrown haphazardly over his right shoulder, something to shelter him from the exaggerated cold. 

Somehow, his face seemed to brighten upon seeing me approach.

"Glad you could make it!" He said as I approached, and he clapped my upper arm in light greeting. "Thought you would have managed to beat me here though."

I made do with a small smile, before gesturing my head over towards where a quaint cafe sat up a few doors down so that we could begin walking.

"Nah, it's pretty hectic trying to escape the crowds at this time. Did you catch the tube up here then?" I conversed and saw Jamie’s brow dip for the briefest of moments before he hastily shook his head at my question.

"Oh, no. Was just leaving a meeting up in Shoreditch, you were on my route so I thought I'd ask."

I gave a low hum, unsure, but didn't comment on it when I thanked him for holding the door open for me to pass through.

"What are you in the mood for then? It's on me."

"Ah, no it's-"

I didn't even get the chance to decline the offer before Jamie was waving me off with a charming smile and a wave of his arm. "Honestly, mate. It's fine, a cup of coffee won't have me out on my arse. So what do you want?"

Blinking with a somewhat disbelieving shake of my head, I prattled off my usual order in a low murmur and told Jamie that I'd find us a table. Just wanting to be helpful, but also to get a second to think things through.

The cafe wasn't too busy. It held the expected usuals; a handful of early-rising old timers and a couple of suits headed in late. So there were a few free tables up for grabs. I picked the one by the window.

Jamie joined me a few minutes later, wearing his usual grin as he carried over a tray of goodies. I raised an eyebrow at the mountain of sweet pastries procured but the man simply shrugged.

"Looked like you'd had a long morning, figured you to be the chocolate type." He commented as he nudged a large croissant in my direction.

Just looking at the buttery roll made my stomach grumble. Teddy and I had been in a wee bit of a rush this morning to get out of the house after my alarm had failed to wake us, so I'd skipped breakfast and picked Teds up something to eat on the way into school.

Toying with the rim of the coffee's handle, I gave Jamie an appreciative smile. “Cheers.” I breathed out and carefully pulled the plate in a little closer.

After that we both simply sipped at our warm drinks for a short while, watching as the morning commuters passed by the large window. It was a calm affair and far from as awkward as I might've expected the meeting to be. In fact, it was actually the first time Jamie and I had met up since that day at the studio, and even then we hadn't had much of an opportunity to chat. 

Still, Jamie’s company felt very similar to that of Adi's- perhaps even Finn's. It allowed me to relax a little. 

It was only after I'd broken off the end of my croissant that I spoke up.

"So, is driving across London at nine in the morning just to buy me a drink your idea of a date, or do you do this with all your mates?"

Jamie blinked at me once, twice, before his eyes widened in alarm, which caused me to, quite literally, snort into my tea.

"I'm joking! Don't fret. Just wondering why the sudden change in pace."

Jamie gifted me a sheepish grin in response and took a quick swig of his coffee before he finally replied.

"You went quiet on us." He shrugged as he picked apart a blueberry muffin, separating the berries from the soft sponge, which amused me somewhat. "Gave you a couple days to breathe, but I reckon you've had long enough. You wanna tell me what's up?"

My eyes strayed back to the window as I withheld a sigh, knowing full well that this had been coming. 

“You know how it is.” I shrugged, almost petulant, and gripped at my cup a little tighter. "Just got busy. I mean, you have to deal with Matty and the band constantly. Can’t be an easy feat."

I received a laugh in turn but my attempt at a little lighthearted humour didn't derail Jamie.

"I know we haven't known each other that long, and you really do have no reason to trust me, of all people, with your problems. But I am here if you ever need anything. Can't speak for Matty, try as I might, but I wouldn't put it past him to go completely out of his way to do whatever you asked either." He chuckled to himself then, like he knew something I didn’t. "He actually hasn't been able to stop talking about you, you know. Not since we met."

I tapped at the mug and felt my tongue prod the inside of my cheek to keep from snorting at Jamie’s words. I just shook my head.

"Doubt he's even noticed I've stopped replying." I quipped lightly, trying to shrug off the sudden emotion that admission had stirred up.

"Ah, so you have been ignoring us then."

I inhaled sharply and dropped my gaze. I couldn’t outright lie to him. 

"Yeah, sorry. Just had a lot going on, you know? This is all new for me, you and Matty, you've just. I don't even know. You just turned up out of the blue and..."

"Sort of invited ourselves into your life?" Jamie filled in with a wry smile.

"No, no! That's- that's not what I meant. Honestly. It's just strange. Different from what I expected." I attempted to backtrack, but ultimately failed.

"No, I get it." Jamie assured, but didn't push the topic any further. "You're stupid, by the way, if you think Matty hasn't noticed. In all the time I've known him, the idiot’s only ever texted me when he's needed something- but the last couple days? I don't think my phone’s stopped going off."

I shovelled another piece of the chocolatey pastry into my mouth to keep myself from replying or reading too much into that.

Jamie released a breathy chuckle and shook his head, as though he could read my reaction, my thoughts. "You've been good for him so far, Mouse. No parties. No drugs. Can't say the same thing about the drink, but he's cut a lot of it out. And I'm chalking that all up to you, ‘cause I can't think of anything else that might've changed in his life to have forced his hand like this."

His words confused me, but then he paused for a moment and purposely caught my eye. 

"Whatever's happened, don't let it keep you from opening up. Not just for his sake, but for yours too. Besides, you can never have too many friends, can you?"

I wiped at my mouth before dipping my head in quiet assent. "No. I ‘spose I can do friends."

Jamie all but beamed, looking pretty proud of himself as he reached across the table for a scone. "Now, tell me all the things that I've missed."

***

Matty practically jumped out of his seat when he heard the front door rattle shut. 

He'd been on edge since the moment he had woken up, but had decided to try for once. He made breakfast (well, rather a late lunch), tried all that meditating malarky (his therapist would be, oh so, proud), and even ended up doing a loop of the block in a desperate attempt to keep his chaotic mind at bay. But nothing. Nothing. Had been able to keep him from wearing the soles of his feet into the fucking floorboards. 

"And where’ve you been?" Matty instigated as soon as Jamie strolled into his sitting room with his usual smile, shaking off the autumn chill he’d invited in with him.

"Around." Was all the twat replied as he draped his heavy overcoat on the back of one of the upholstered armchairs. He paused to eye Matty closely. "Why, what's got your knickers in a twist?"

Matty’s scowl was infamous by this point, but Jamie was one of the fair few to have gotten used to it. A right shame, that. "Nothing! Just- I texted you, wanted an update."

Jamie quirked an amused brow his way and it took all of Matty’s nervous pent up energy not to blow up at him. He could feel his own irritation building though, it tingled in the tips of his fingers and raised goosebumps across his skin. 

"That all? You know the team won't give us an answer until they’re certain that it all won't fall through."

Matty gritted his teeth together and tugged a rough hand through his dishevelled hair. "It's bollocks! It's our fucking album, why do they get a say in what happens with it?"

Jamie sighed quietly to himself as he wandered over towards the heavyset globe sat in the far corner. Matty watched on as he slid its top off and procured a pair of tumblers, pouring two fingers of murky whiskey into each of the old fashioned glasses.

"You know why, mate." 

They'd had this conversation too many times before. And yet,

Matty clenched his jaw to keep from snapping, lashing out, but his knuckles whitened around the glass when Jamie pressed it into his palm. He almost wanted to laugh.

"Thought you wanted me off the drink?" He remarked coldly but swallowed the spirit down before Jamie could give him an actual answer, or take it away. He only wished that the alcohol burned brighter, these days it barely left a bitter tang on his tongue.

Jamie didn't touch his own as he made his way on over towards the chaise lounge, but his fingertips tapped a smooth rhythm against the crystal. The house didn’t make a sound.

Matty followed, as expected, restlessly flinging his feet up onto the centre table before his agitation once again began to overwhelm him. He huffed when he dropped them back to the floor again, the heavy vibrations grounding him somewhat as he moved to rest his elbows on the knobs of his knees.

"That newest story's doing wonders for you right now though." Jamie told him gently when Matty’s quick eyes met his gaze, his hands still toying with the full glass. "They want to rebuild your image. Figure it'll help with album presales, and they're not really all that wrong, mate. Since you've been out of um-”

“You can say it.”

Jamie rolled his eyes but barrelled on, “Since you've been out of rehab. Well, the public's been enjoying seeing this new side of you. Besides, I thought you liked whatever her name was."

With a scoff, Matty forced his gaze away. "It's complete shit and you know it. PR just wants control. For me to fall in line. And the public couldn't give a single fuck about what I do! All they live for is the gossip, the drama. And that's what I do best, no? Don't worry though, J, I'm sure I'll fuck up sooner or later."

"Don't talk like that." Jamie scolded as he pushed his tumbler onto the table and moved a little closer. He looked to be fighting an internal battle, his fingers twitching on the inseam of his leg to keep himself from reaching out to comfort.

"Oh, fucking come off it, Jamie! You know it's true." Matty spat back, the rage once again building. These past few days had had him fraying. "I bet they’re already sitting there at that table just waiting for the other shoe to drop. And I already know they’ll want to be the first in the know, when I finally do fuck up again. Spout about what a waste of space I am! How they should've sacked me off sooner. That it should've been me and not-"

"Don't."

Jamie’s voice cut through the room like a blaring siren, but Matty had never heard him speak so lowly. 

"Don't go there. He wouldn't want you thinking that way."

Matty locked his jaw and narrowed his scrutinising eyes at Jamie. "Don't act like you know what he'd want."

Jamie glanced away for the briefest of seconds and inhaled slowly before his gaze finally returned. Matty could see his own torment reflected in Jamie’s sad eyes. "It hurt me too. You know that."

Matty forced his eyes closed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Unable to deal with the many emotions that threatened to overpower him. He swiped Jamie's drink off of the table and swallowed it down in one, then swiftly stood and strode across the room to make another.

The amber liquid warmed his chest as expected and he felt the moment it hit his empty stomach. He braced himself against the globe's golden stand, leaving his hair to fall helplessly into his face. Thankfully, it shielded his glossy eyes from Jamie’s view.

It was still so hard. Most nights it was all he could ever picture-

No. Not today, he rebuked. Not now. Not again.

It was a never ending nightmare that he just couldn't seem to wake himself up from. And how he fucking wished he could wake up.

Matty went to refill the glass again but faltered. His hand stilled, midair, fingers itching to grab at the ancient old bourbon that sat only inches away, but instead he reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out his phone.

Too many notifications cluttered the screen. But not a single one from the person he wanted to talk to most. 

In a fit of dismay, he went to throw the stupid thing at the nearest wall but a hand caught his wrist before he could do any real damage.

Matty’s eyes flickered up to meet Jamie’s- he choked.

"I just-" He tried to force out but the words felt like thick bile in his throat. His lip trembled and Jamie tugged him close. Matty wondered when he'd ever allowed the man to get so close. To breach his high walls.

"I know." Jamie hushed him, allowing a steady hand to come to rest at the back of Matty’s neck. "I know, mate."

Matty wondered if he truly did.

***

Mesmerising. 

I let the word play over and over on a loop in my head as my fingertips trailed along the jagged lines of my torso. 

Seventeen I'd been- my first time with this boy from college and he had called the scars I was forced to bare mesmerising. As if they were something special, something to be proud of. I'd frozen back then, the word had, so suddenly, hindered my entire world, but he'd gone on exploring without even noticing the way my mind had started to spiral.

The scars had always been a difficult pill to swallow. They weren't mine. I hated how others could so easily claim their own. His scars. My scars. Hers. I didn't want them. They were just there. A myriad of haunted memories to which I'd been burdened with since the age of seven.

All these years later and still I couldn't recall the smooth expanse of skin that had once been there- untarnished, unharmed.

The bronze shadows, created by the setting sun which illuminated my bedroom walls in a burning shade of amber, crawled across the floorboards beneath my feet and caressed my skin. They dipped and curved, exaggerating sharp lines and hallowing shallow slopes.

I'd only meant to have a quick shower, in and out, before Finn inevitably ended up dropping Teddy back home. But I'd left the wardrobe door wide open in my haste to leave early this morning and had yet to shut it, exposing the slim mirror attached to the inside of the wooden door. A slip up.

So now my distorted body stared back at me mercilessly and I couldn't find it in myself to tear my eyes away. The meek girl stood within its four cutting lines just wasn't me. It was simply the reflection of a sheltered kid who'd been forced to grow up far too quickly. 

Her skin, hardly what you'd pale but not far off, was flushed and pink all over from the steam of the shower. Her hair, still damp and wet, clung to the majority of her forehead and dripped water droplets down the line of her throat. Her eyes, usually a deep, warm colour, were somewhat sunken, hidden behind heavy lids and long lashes. The dark circles that sat beneath them only emphasised the muted scarlet that rimmed her waterline- a lack of sleep. 

I wet my lips. They were dry, bitten from hours of relentless anxiety, but parted enough so that my front teeth could just about be seen. Her face was lined by worry. Fine wrinkles etched themselves around the corners of her eyes and mouth, then again between her furrowed brows.

The scars, faded but somehow still raw, swept up her neck and collarbone, and jumped over her right shoulder. One crept across the cut of her jaw, whilst another sliced through the bridge of her nose to meet another, smaller scar, on her cheek. Her chest, where it had been previously impaled, was now stretched and knitted. Some lines were a few shades darker than her natural complexion, maroon, and oftentimes cardinal. Others were lighter, pale and whitened. Faded.

A gruesome gash down the centre of her abdomen led to a spattering of fine hairs that lined her navel, trailing low beneath the hem of the towel she'd wrapped around her waist earlier. Her hands were now fisted at her sides though, so much so that prominent veins danced up the insides of her forearms, skirting around the few fawn freckles that painted her skin.

Mesmerising.

The sudden blare of a mobile ringing sent a sharp chill up my spine and knocked the air back into me. Shakily I inhaled, averting my eyes from the mirrored prison, then spun round on my heel to answer the call.

There was no greeting, no small talk. It was cutthroat and to the point.

"I need a drink. You coming?"

And I had never answered a question quicker.

--

It was a hard task, squinting down at my phone in an attempt to concentrate on the text I was trying to send to Finn, but the strobe lights and throng of people around me were making the task rather fucking difficult.

To be honest though, I couldn’t actually remember the last time I'd stepped foot inside a club. Or even spent an entire evening sat in the local pub. But I’d been all but desperate, and so, in the heat of the moment, I had practically jumped at the first offer I’d been given. 

I was beginning to second guess that decision now though as I pushed my way through the rowdy crowds, the assorted smell of liquor and sweat already clinging to my clothes. I hadn't really put too much thought into those, too busy trying to escape my own head. Really, I’d just thrown on an old skirt from my uni days, a top that made my tits look great but hid the scar there, and the well-worn leather jacket Finn had gifted me at the end of my first year working on the show.

I had just sent the text off, double checking with the man himself that he was still alright to have Teddy til the following morning, when a raised voice caught my attention.

Frowning, my head snapped up but that soon faded once I caught sight of the tall ginger propped up against the bar not too far away. My lips curled up into a lopsided grin on their own command and I was quick to pocket my phone, already moving towards him.

"Mighty Mouse. You actually made it!" Ronan Kelly bellowed in that familiar Irish lilt of his, welcoming me in with a hearty squeeze to the waist as we embraced. "It's a feckin' miracle!"

I gave him an impish smile and dipped my head slightly to rub at my nose, then made the effort to catch Ronan's icy gaze. "I guess it has been a while."

"A while- Babe, I ain't seen you in months!" Ronan laughed, flashing a row of white teeth and wrinkling his bright blue eyes. I felt some of my worries ease at the sight of the man's familiar face, a warm reminder of older days. "Can't believe you actually agreed to come out with us!"

I shook my head and released an airy chuckle, "You know how it is, Ro- got Teddy to worry about now."

Ronan's face, if possible, lit up even further at the mention of the small toddler. "Ah, grand! How is the wean? At school now, right?"

It was sweet of him to ask and I smiled up at him as I went to answer, but was forced further into Ronan’s space when some prat barged past me to get to the bar. Ronan caught me by the waist with a natural ease he’d always been capable of and narrowed his eyes at the guilty party from over my shoulder. 

Not wanting things to escalate, I did my best to quickly wave it off and distract. "Teddy's good!" I heard myself tell him, voice slightly raised to be heard over the pulsing music, tiptoeing almost now in his grasp. "He's with Finn at the moment."

Ronan's gaze reluctantly trailed back to me upon hearing me speak, he reluctantly smiled and nodded but had yet to drop his hands from where they were now stationed at my hips.

"I'm sure Finn is completely lovin' that."

With a light laugh, I rolled my eyes at his sarky reply and moved to press my forearm up against the edge of the bar’s countertop. "They're a proper little duo. Finn has been a saint, what with all his help and that. Don't think I'd be standing here today without him really."

"Well, let's cheers to that then, hey?" Ronan grinned, then raised a hand to gesture over towards the barman.

Within seconds two pints were being placed on the bartop, a dizzying yellow colour filled to the brim with minuscule bubbles that had my mouth watering. It had been a long while since a fresh pint of lager had wet my lips and it helped that Ronan’s presence was a comfort.

"Sláinte!" He announced brashly, already having hoisted his glass into the air between us.

"Cheers!" I laughed, clinking our glasses together before gulping down a too large swig.

"That's what I like to see!" Ronan whooped, almost proudly. He squeezed my right hip in celebration before choosing to steer us both away from the bar and over towards a wall lined with darkened booths. "Come on, Auley and everyone's waiting over here, been excited to see ya!”

I only nodded in reply, pint close to my chest as I followed after him, bobbing between an array of patrons effortlessly now. The earlier anxiety shovelled deep, deep down.

***

Withdrawal was something Matty had never thought too much about in the years before. He'd always had everything right there, on tap. A quick hit, a line just to pick him up. It always felt so easy.

But now, without the copious amount of pills, the parties, he finally realised why the fuck people were never able to stay away for too long. Because sooner or later, they always ended up crawling back.

It wasn't so much the flu-ish like sickness that had him reeling, although he really could've done without the high-fever sweats and the full body tremors. It was more that ever encompassing sorrow. The depression that never seemed to lift- but then again, depressed wasn't even the first word he would use to describe it. It was like a thick plume of murky black that fogged every exit, far beyond the gut wrenching nausea that clawed away at his insides at all hours of the day, or the constant drilling in his head that kept him from sleep.

Being without- 

Being without was practically maddening. A spiral of hellish days with no escape, the only choice he had was to carry on or simply turn back. And he'd come too far now to run towards the latter, he’d already made that mistake. And if he had anything to thank his godforsaken mother for, it was the sheer stubbornness they both so clearly shared.

Matty couldn't complain though, he wouldn’t, as much as he wished he often could though, because he was still leaning heavily on the spirits. He knew. As well as the band and Jamie, who'd also been hellbent on 'helping'. In their own way.

Although the idiots hadn't made things much easier for him, the guys hadn't put up much of a fight against his drunk ramblings or the never ending mood swings. They just took it all in stride. Which Matty was mostly grateful for.

The alcohol though, he'd currently taken to using as a crutch. He'd drink a little more and more just to cope with the effects, the longing, to get him through to the next day. But he'd never felt too dependent on it before and didn't feel as though it was a massive problem now, he'd been drinking since before he'd worked out how to pick the lock on his dad’s old liquor cabinet. He’d keep drinking ‘til he was near the grave.

The drinking though, was just a baby habit in comparison to the drugs.

It was also how he'd managed to find himself out on a Thursday night. 

He'd actually managed to forgo Hann's mothering this time, sending his mate off home early from the studio before he'd called up an old friend. Itching for that familiarity of older times, shaking with it really, but knowing better.

"Oi, Healy- you still with us?" Crowed a loud voice in his left ear.

Matty startled at it and turned back around to find the one and only Danny Willis hanging over his shoulder, usual open-mouthed grin on full display, a drink in hand.

He blinked up at him once before Matty’s lips turned upwards into a lazy smile, he spun around on his foot to get further in his friend's face. "Thought you'd gone off with that bird?"

"Who, blondie?" Danny questioned, smirking now. "Nah, wouldn't have left you hanging all alone, mate."

Matty snorted.

"Ah, so you do care!" He drained the dregs of his bourbon then grinned at the twat, "Always wondered whether you fancied me, Danny boy! Guess this just proves it, don’t it?"

Danny wound an arm around his shoulders and leant in to press a sloppy, wet kiss to his cheek. Matty pulled away, cackling as he tried to shrug the added weight off.

"Prick." Matty scoffed lightly, stumbling as he rubbed at his face. He grunted at the small group he'd accidentally bulldozed into in his haste and they all scowled in return, but it wasn't long before Danny jumped in to rescue and steer him away.

"Come on. Let's get out of here, hey? The next bar awaits and all that." Danny proclaimed, chucking back the remnants of his own drink. Matty chuckled when the man winced and then wiped the corners of his mouth. "Reckon we might be able to find someone decent for you to take home there!"

Matty merely hummed in reply as they pushed their way through a set of double doors and out into the night, not really listening as he propped himself up against Dan's side, ignoring the whispers that tended to follow wherever he went.

"Ah, look at that, would you!" Danny's voice came again, right by his ear, as he paused on the pavement to cock his chin outwards, forcing Matty to follow his gaze. "It's a full moon!"

Matty rolled his eyes.

***

"Come on, Mouse!" Auley tried for the umpteenth time that night. His larger than life smile, I noted, had always been much gentler than that of his brother's. "You can't stay cooped up in this booth all evenin'! You need to put yourself out there, darlin’- have some fun!"

I shook my head, chuckling up at the giant of a man standing before me. "I swear I'm fine here, Aul. You go and have enough fun for the both of us."

Auley's face scrunched up in distaste as he reluctantly pushed away from the table's edge, the dim lights of the bar illuminating his hair, almost seeming to set it alight as it added a halogen glow to the already coppery red.

Ronan chose that moment to reappear, brushing past his brother to settle back into the booth next to me. He set two more drinks down on the table. "Leave the poor lass alone, won’t you, Aul! You know how she gets."

I rolled my eyes, albeit fondly, and Auley did the same as he slowly backed away, mouth quirked upwards. "Yeah, yeah. Yer like a pair of old women, you two- peas in a pod or somethin'."

"Ah, shove off!" Ronan laughed, a deep rumbling sound that shook his whole body. "Think I can hear the dance floor callin' your name, mate."

"Too right." Auley quipped, flashing another bright grin at his brother before he turned back to face me. "Know that this isn't over just yet. You might've won this battle but you ain't won the war, darlin’. I'll soon get that dance."

I snorted, but was unable to help my grin. "One day, babe."

Auley winked at me and I watched on as he melted into the mob of people before us, leaving Ronan and I alone.

I observed the crowd for a long moment, taking note of all their dizzying smiles. For a Thursday night, the bar was oddly rampacked, but I couldn't find it in myself to complain too much, not when everyone seemed to be having a great time. 

There was a large group of us out tonight. Alongside asking me to join, Ronan and Auley had brought along the entirety of their flat as well as a few others, some from uni, others from work, I reckoned. They'd all split up within the first half hour though, but they kept drifting back and forth, I could easily spot Penn and his brightly coloured shirt over by the snooker table in the very far corner, and most of the girls had crowded together out on the dance floor. 

"Havin' a good night then?"

I repositioned myself upon hearing Ronan's question, he was closer now in an attempt to be heard over the music, and I sipped at the foamy top of my pint before answering. "Yeah, I am. It's, well it's been a while since I last did anything like this." I chuckled, eyes roaming the room again. 

Ronan shifted closer once more, the booth’s leather seat squeaking quietly under his weight as the song on the overhead speakers faded into the next.

"I'm glad. We haven't seen you proper since yer last year at uni."

It was true but that wasn't just down to me, I felt the need to say. But instead gave him a small smile as I just shrugged, thumbing the edge of the table, "Life gets busy with a baby. Plus, it's not as though any of you lot had time to just drop by and see me, with all your classes and what not."

Ronan’s lips pursed at my words and a quiet stretched between us. I watched on as he fiddled with the bottom of his pint glass, before finally he replied. "Could've made time. Finn did. Cassie, too. Just- it felt strange, going back after that summer and you not bein' there."

To be honest, I didn't really know what to say to that. 

As much as I had loved my time at university, I hadn't really had much space for it in my life after Teddy had come along. And although I’d never regretted my decision to leave, not after everything I'd gone through to get to where I am today. Because my God, had that been hard. I did sometimes miss the memories I’d made there, the people I’d met and, surprisingly, the workload too. It made me question whether I could have had it all, a degree and a baby. Although, I somehow doubted that that was what Ronan was grasping at here.

But it wouldn’t do well to continue to dwell on the past. I'd already spent a large portion of my life doing exactly that, and I’d known in the long run that I would have to have let go of some things in order to provide a better life for Teddy, better than the one that I’d had. I wanted my son to have every possible opportunity, every choice, in order to better himself. I wanted him to be a kid for as long as life would let him.

And as much as I really did love spending time with Ronan and the old gang, I also knew that come tomorrow morning I had actual commitments and responsibilities to attend to. I didn't have the opportunity anymore to skive and bunk off of lectures so that I could deal with a nasty hangover and sleep in. Teddy was always relying on me to come through. And come through I would. Every time.

But right now! I just needed to let my hair down. Enjoy an evening away, and maybe (hopefully) get rid of some of that tension that had been piling up over the previous weeks.

Thankfully though, I was saved from answering when a flushed Alice came hurrying over, clinking her cocktail on the table so hard it's fruity contents spilled out across the wooden surface. The overexcited girl, who was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, didn't pay much mind to the mess as she threw herself into our booth and peered over her shoulder to search for something or other. 

I shot Ronan a bewildered look, but the ginger merely widened his eyes at me as if to say that he had no clue what was going on either. 

"Er, you alright, Al?"

Alice's head snapped back so fast that I honestly fretted a little over the whiplash she must've felt.

"No?! Do I look alright?" Alice stressed, digging her perfectly painted nails into the red cushion that lined the booth's back. "You'll never believe who Penn and I just saw walk in!"

I only hid a smile to myself whilst Ronan decided to humour Alice. "Who d’ya see, Ali-cat?"

Alice's face was nothing like I had ever seen before, her usual pretty smile had been traded in for a kilowatt grin, bunching her rosy cheeks and narrowing her soft brown eyes.

"That singer! You know- the one with the hair and the face! Ah, what's his name? From that band!"

"Matty!" Answered Indra- seemingly a friend of a friend of a friend- who had bounded up to our table in the time Alice had been freaking out, practically hyperventilating. "The. Matty Healy!"

"That's who!" Alice exclaimed and was nodding away excitedly now, whilst I simply sat frozen, drink halfway to my lips.

"Didn't you interview him?" Indra queried suddenly, her eyes as wide as saucers whilst her gaze flitted back and forth between me and the bar at an impossible pace.

Shakily, I set my glass down.

"You did?" Ronan piped up beside me. I swallowed thickly before turning my head towards him, then back towards the two girls, who were anxiously waiting on my reply.

"Uh, yeah." It felt as though I’d forced the words out of my mouth. A ball of cotton having replaced my tongue.

"Oh, Mouse! Introduce us, would you? Please!" Alice all but squealed imploringly.

My alarmed eyes flickered back to Ronan again, then Indra, and then Alice.

My mouth had never felt so dry as I tried my best to ground myself, to get over the sudden, unexpected headfuck that had sent my mind reeling.

"Ah, I don't know, Al. It's, well. I-" I really did struggle to find the right words that could possibly get me out of this entire situation, but before I even knew what was happening, Indra was already reaching for me and pulling me up out of the booth. 

Alice jumped up to join her and patted my sleeve eagerly before proceeding to try and drag me away. Ronan, thank the stars, reached out to stop them just in time, tugging on the hem of my jacket and shooting the two girls a sharp look.

"Oi, you two. Behave, will yer? You didn't even give her the chance to answer."

Alice looked up and flashed me a sheepish grin, "Sorry, hun."

Feeling sheepish and rather relieved, really, to be freed from all the clawing hands, I waved her apology off, knowing Ali was only just drunk and excited. "It's fine, just- I think I'm better off heading home now in truth. You know, I've got Teddy to think about."

Both of the girls' disappointment was overwhelmingly obvious, but they didn't push it any further, simply nodded and tried to smile as best as they could.

"No worries, Mouse. You get on home, babe. Sorry again."

"Wait, you're not actually leaving, are you?" Ronan questioned suddenly, causing me to cast a glance over at him. He was frowning now, that much was obvious from the deep set line rapidly forming between his bushy brows. "It's not 'cause of that tosser, is it?"

Immediately, I felt myself shake my head, already knowing that the lie would taste bitter in my mouth.

"Ah, come off it! Stay for another round at least." Ronan goaded me, moving to stand with the girls, his hand still on my elbow though.

"Nah, I'd best head home, Ro. I don't want to be dealing with a hangover as well as a screaming toddler tomorrow morning." I insisted with a lighthearted chuckle, I gifted him an apologetic smile whilst fishing out my phone to call a cab.

It wasn't even late yet, just gone eleven, and there was an unread text from Finn demanding that I have some fun. I gave a heavy sigh.

"Don't be like that, babe. Come on, one more drink and I'll even walk you home." Ronan raised a brow just as he jutted out his jaw and smiled.

It was tempting but...

I laughed lightly and shook my head. "Honestly, Ro-"

But the man wouldn't hear it. "Come on, ladies. Help me out here!" He implored to both of the girls standing either side of him now, the way he towered them was almost funny.

Indra giggled just as Ronan wrapped his strong arms around her and Alice, shaking them a little. Alice simply rolled her eyes at him in amusement, but pulled away slightly to squeeze my hand.

"It's up to you, M. You know we love seeing you, but I can call you a cab if you really want to head off now."

I could only smile at her and silently questioned why we didn't spend more time together outside of the group. I could easily recall Finn saying something or other about a pottery class the two of them had attended the previous weekend and wondered if that would be something I might enjoy.

"I'll be fine, babe. Thank you, though." I told her kindly, before turning to face Ronan. "You enjoy the rest of your night, alright? I'll text you when I've made it back."

"Mouse..." Ronan groaned unhappily, "Just one more drink. For me?"

I shook my head and tugged my jacket further around my body as I stepped away from the trio, patting down my pockets to make sure that I did have everything I needed. 

"I'll come out again, soon." I promised them, but tried to aim my words at the frowning redhead as I continued to back away. "You can hold me to it."

Ronan worked his jaw before he nodded curtly, and I sighed to myself before spinning on my heel to hastily make my exit. 

Only, it didn't quite happen like that of course, because, of all the people, in all the world, I just had to bump right into none other than Matty.

[hdglidewell]

Chapter 1 Sneak Peak

“Lucas,” Maryanne’s voice pulls me from the memory. I’m telling her the tale of my latest adventure, but somehow got stuck inside one of the defining moments. You know, when the monster comes face to face with the hunter, they battle it out for supremacy. It isn’t like that, but I make it sound like it is.                                                                  

“Huh?” I grunt as I shake my head. The sooner I can return both feet to reality, the quicker I can end the tale of terror.

“What happens next?” she asks, gripping her pen tightly. She’s on the edge of her seat. My crossbow is ready, the monster pleads for mercy, and I’m nearing that explosive conclusion.

I’ve worked with Maryanne for the past decade. I go on monster hunts, and she turns them into best-selling horror novels. We both get a monetary gain out of it. She calls me her muse, but I’m what she writes in her blood, romance, and intriguing stories. I’m the hero, the man putting his life on the line to save all of humanity. In simpler words, I’m the chosen one. Suppose the chosen one has safe houses and a hundred others doing the same job. The money funds my hunts, and I don’t have to commit credit card fraud.

“I killed it, of course,” I say enthusiastically, and the look of interest drops from her face. There was a time she would cheer when I reached this point of the story.

“You always kill it. Are there any monsters you won’t put an arrow through?” Maryanne asks, her bottom lip stuck in a pout.

I won’t openly admit it, but I have a soft spot for the author. I wouldn’t spend so much time with her between jobs if I didn’t. I used to commend myself for having no distractions, nobody that I was committed to; just me, my car, and the open road.

“Your neighbor is still alive,” I mention with a hint of humor.

“For the last time, Mike is not a vampire. He works overnights at a blood bank,” Maryanne groans as she rolls her emerald green eyes.

I laugh. “Seems a little convenient, don’t you think?”

I am already aware she is a skeptic. I share stories of werewolves, vampires, fairies, and the occasional rogue reaper. If I were her, I would probably think I’m crazy, too. It’s her blindness that makes us the perfect partners.

She doesn’t realize that Mike is, sure enough, a vampire, but he’s smart. He works at a local blood bank, and therefore isn’t a murderous monster needing a good old-fashioned stake to the heart. He’s not on my radar, but I’m pretty sure I am on his.

Whenever I walk up to Maryanne’s front door, he clams up, runs up his stairs, and locks the door to his house. He’s a good enough man, but we have a specific smell, like those from the underworld. Which explains why it is so hard to get away when you find yourself in a tough spot.

“If you say so,” I say through the laughter, but she is far from amused.

“Well, even if he is, he’s been kind to me.” She presses her lips together and sighs.

I’m sure if I had a pro-monster sign on a stick to hand to her, she would march around in a circle claiming that monster lives mattered too. However, I do have to agree. Her neighbor has been nothing but kind to her, and that kindness keeps him alive. I’ve even looked away a time or two when he dragged men from the bar into an alleyway. They weren’t good men. Both had committed serious crimes against their families.

“Not all monsters are bad people,” I say slowly, letting my hazel eyes wander her face. “Montana has a vampire reform school, and there’s a commune for vegan werewolves in Sacramento. There’s no cure for what happened to them. Only ways to help them come to terms with their physical changes.”  

I admit the locations are wrong —for a reason, just in case she puts them in a book — but they exist. I can’t have her putting good people’s lives in danger because she doesn’t want to believe I’m telling her the truth.

As with humanity, there is a balance in the underground. Good versus evil isn’t just tied to our world. I’ve seen it all over the country, all over the world. I grew up in this lifestyle; my mother, father, older brother, and generations before them, even. But where they saw teeth and claws, I see something different. If no harm is being done, why must they die? Would I ever say this aloud? No!

“You tell me these things, then refuse to show me when I ask for proof.” Maryanne runs her manicured fingers through her long red ponytail and rolls her eyes again.

“With all due respect,” I say, standing up from the recliner I had been sitting on to kneel at her knees, “if I show you, and you put it in a book, you are compromising the lives of good people.”

“Why do you care?” she asks me somberly.

I honestly have no idea what to tell her. She’s already aware of my intentions and knows more about me than my parents. Still, she doesn’t realize I do care. Under this exterior of frowns and shrugs is a heart.

She looks down at me, and the disapproval fades. A smile spreads across her pretty face. Her legs open as she tosses her notebook and pen to the floor. I’ve been intrigued by what she could be hiding under her skirt all day.

Wandering hands and twitching fingers make Maryanne’s eyes roll into the back of her head as she loudly moans.

Did I mention that my relationship with Maryanne combines business and pleasure?

***

I leave Maryanne’s two hours later. She’s passed out on the floor of her office, her clothing in various locations. This is normal for us. She won’t expect me to be there when she wakes up. I toss on my jeans and t-shirt before meandering out the front door of her two-story home.

I swing by the hotel first to shower and change. Monsters, like humans, get confused when you show up brandishing a weapon while smelling like Chanel #5. Plus, I do have business in the city concerning a haunted house owned by a family of shifters. The last thing I need is to show up smelling like sweat and regret.

I met Kaleb on a hunt a few years earlier when he helped me locate a child kidnapped by a coven of vampires. Yes, there are occasions when even a member of the underworld creates a moral dilemma for others in the same circle. We’ve kept in touch off and on over the years. Recently, he purchased a house on the west side of town. The Realtor did not disclose any crimes committed on the property; therefore, he was blindsided upon move-in.

Things went well the first few days, and then the haunting began. It’s not uncommon to come across a poltergeist or two, especially in older homes. They usually enjoy making people miserable, but this situation sounds slightly different. The haunt seems more like an emotionally derailed teenager, angry they weren’t getting their way. Pictures have been knocked off the wall, cabinets opened and closed, and there is constant, audible crying. It hasn’t attacked anyone yet, but the longer Kaleb waits for someone to step in, the closer the spirit could come to starting physical violence.

I told him I would stop by the next time I was in the area to see what I could do. There are several directions an intervention can go. If I play my cards right, I can cleanse the house in an hour. If things go south, the whole house can catch fire and burn to the ground before the firefighters arrive. I didn’t disclose that part to Kaleb. In fact, I don’t tell anyone that last bit. It only happened once, and the fire happened miles from town on an old abandoned farm.

From an early age, I’ve had a gift. My mother used to say it was because I died at birth, and the reaper sent to collect my soul gave me the sight before she gave me life. I have no proof of this, but it would make sense. I can see the dead among the living. When I was younger, it used to confuse me, but now I have learned when to look and when to keep walking. Another uncanny ability is how I can relive points in the past. If you want to know how your aunt Betsy died, I only need access to the location and a photo. Some locations can have multiple guests, so it’s easier if I know who I’m supposed to be talking to.

Ghost hunting is not my passion, though it can prove lucrative in the long run. I go to a location, scout out the monster scene, and make a few bucks telling people their loved ones are on the other side thinking of them. It’s not a hoax, either. If I fail to locate a spirit, it’s a money-back guarantee. Sometimes it happens. It all depends on how long it has been since they made their presence known.

I look at my watch. I’m running a little late. I had been more involved with Maryanne than I intended. I had told Kaleb I would be at his house by four, and it’s approaching five. I’m never late to paying gigs, but this one is pro-bono, and I haven’t put much thought into it.

By the time I arrive, Kaleb and his wife are sitting on the front steps of their two-story home. He has his hands in his hair, and she keeps looking over her shoulder and scowling at him.  Their toddler daughter is playing with the dandelions on the lawn. I can instantly tell the spirit has been pestering the adults but leaving the young one alone.

I park my 1971 Dodge Challenger and cut the motor. All my gear is in the trunk, but I won’t need much. I already told Kaleb to salt the entrance and exits to rooms the spirit frequents. I only need salt, a recorder, and other trinkets. I hope this will be an in-and-out job. No fires!

WANT TO READ MORE? CHECK OUT CURSE OF HELHAVEN IN THE MONSTER HUNTER ANTHOLOGY. www.books2read.com/monsterhunter 

[expfcultragreen]

I dreamed i was in a school full of all different kinds of rooms some really fancy like recital halls, some normal boring middleschool rooms, some like grand masonic lodge / museum type rooms. There was a swimming pool room, pokemon had a digital but also hard compenent and i rode a ho-oh over the pool. Mainly i was talking to people on blogs because they were arouns the school, like I'd see their posts come up on a dash as i saw them. I was like, on someones tumblr that was abandoned and you could edit posts or leave new ones but i was a ghostyard and somehow it let you in to a series of empty rooms, like they werent locked either, but it was just boring schoolrooms, with a mcdonalds diet coke on a desk. There was an outside and i went out and was walking around the building seeing posts about like "you know when you pick up something thats popular at another school [kid eating some kind of shitfilled teabag] and youre just like 'its all natural'". Then inwalked past scott thompson in a wig doing a bit about being an old misogynist who doesnt get stuff about co-ed camping and his stream of dialogue was so funny i doubled back and sat by him to listen--by then his look had changed from metalhead to wizened old man in a wheelchair and someone else walked by and gave him a 20 and a kiss on the head and sat down and i immediately stood up and also kissed his head as i was leaving. I said "now a much more generous fan has shown up". Old man-drag scott thompson was fountaining positivity from both interactions, he reminded me of bill cunningham being like "oh my child, bless you".

I was talking to people on the tumblr dash about the amassment of frindge radical capitalists somewhere, we were like codifying our stance as pro-utopia, that a socialist distribution of resources was of optimal benefit. Somehow it was important just to reiterate our values as being prosocial, and to collectively vibe about it. i ended up talking to the collective unconscious about how harry potter turned out all normcore family valuesy because jkr is a bad author and it would have been a better story if he'd been gay, and the collective unconcious was like "then i want stories about ron and hermione without harry" and i got bored and started talking just to a black blogger i was following and she was like, using a harry potter type metaphor about web security and saying if she was going discuss x or y she'd need a room with 9 ft thick walls and the best known silencing wards. The collective unconscious started assessing how ive handled my own times of ignorance about stuff in the new woke order and found the right mix of acceptance of new information and ease of application with the near-exception of the whole masonic family issue, which i was mulling and mulish about but unblamed for.

[itsamejin]

easy || jungkook angst/fluff

Summary: Date you, win a bet, get his rent paid off. Sounds promising enough, right? Jungkook should’ve known that his ambitions would end in disaster, but even if he did, that still wouldn’t have stopped him from pursuing you.

Warning: cursing, crude humor, fuckboy talk

Genre: college!au, fuckboy!au, bet!trope, angst, fluff

Pairing: Jungkook x female!reader

Premise: In which Jungkook accepts a bet from Taehyung to date the first girl that walks into the lecture hall and realizes that he bit off more than he could chew when starts to catch feelings. Now, he has to suffer the consequences of being an idiot.

Commission Request: @altus-gens​

Word Count: 9,203 words

—

It's not like Jungkook planned to be one of the most sought after person in Yonsei University, but it somehow turned out to be that way. Truthfully, he basks in it, loves that so many people idolize him for doing the bare minimum. He was handsome after all and had a level of charm that surpassed the need to have a good personality. 

He got into such a prestigious school through an athletic scholarship for Taekwondo, managed to convince his professors to pass him when he put in minimal effort, and there was no shortage of girls to call when he was feeling lonely for a night. He was the stereotypical 'it' boy on campus and maybe if he was a little bit smarter, he'd have a better choice of friends than the six idiots he always hangs around with.

"How about this," Taehyung starts, gum in his mouth, "the first girl who walks in, you have to successfully get in her pants."

Jungkook rolls his eyes. They were in a damn lecture hall and yet Taehyung had no shame bringing up sex. Typical.

“This again, bro?” Hoseok sighed. “Aren’t you sick of bribing us to do weird shit for you?”

Taehyung smirked.

“Not at all, actually.”

"For how much?" Namjoon cut in, probably curious for the price point Taehyung would arrange this time. He was fired from his job just a week ago and could really use the money. "I'll do it if it’s enough to pay for my rent this month."

Taehyung scoffs, although knowing full well he could pay for all of the boys’ tuitions combined if he wanted to. He was the resident rich bachelor on campus after all.

"I'll pay it for a full year and your utility bills too if you're really down," Taehyung flaunts. "You just gotta have proof you actually managed to do it."

"Dude that's gross," Seokjin chimes in, "No one wants to send you proof of us doing it with a random girl."

Taehyung shakes his head.

"No, no, no," he says, clicking his tongue. "I phrased it incorrectly. I’m not a fucking pervert."

“You got us fooled,” Jimin mutters. 

Taehyung leans in closer to the six boys and even Jungkook finds himself getting intrigued. Admittedly, he was a little curious considering he hasn't had a proper meal in weeks. He could really use having some extra cash for food without worrying about rent.

"You have to date the girl for like three months," Taehyung says seriously, "and I'll consider that as enough proof that you managed to actually do it since I know you guys are too horny to wait any longer than that to fuck."

They all look at Taehyung in disgust, Jimin even opting to hit him in the back of the head for being so vulgar. To be fair, they were all thinking of accepting Taehyung's bet regardless. It's not like they were new to leading girls on anyway.

"You gotta pay me more than that to fuck just any girl," Yoongi says, yawning in the process. He seemed the least likely to take up Taehyung's offer, but he was still game depending on the person.

"Then how would you feel," Taehyung starts, "if I told you guys that I could get you priority registration for next quarter."

The boys, even the ones who weren't interested, were now listening to Taehyung's every word.

"You mean," Hoseok gulps, "I could finally get that fucking Organic Chemistry class I need to get out of this hell hole?!"

Taehyung shrugs, an ominous smile on his face.

"Just the perk of having parents who have connections," Taehyung replies. “I’ll only accept one of you guys to do it though. I don’t wanna have you all fucking the same girl- that’d be weird.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, that’s what’s weird about this,” he grumbles.

“So are you guys in or not?” Taehyung asks, his patience growing thin.

He lays back on his chair, a smoldering look on his face when they all nod. They were desperate for money after all.

"The next girl that walks in will be the subject of this bet and whoever calls dibs on her first will be the one to woo her,” he says with a stretch of his arms. “Good luck boys.”

They all turned to look at the door and Jungkook watches silently as guy after guy walks into the lecture hall. No girl yet. 

Jungkook was hoping, from the bottom of his heart, that no familiar faces would walk in. If he had to deal with a past fling, he’d have to back out immediately. He never dealt with exes very well.

The guys are at the edge of their seats, praying for a cute girl to walk through that didn’t already know about their horrible reputation. They were looking for an easy target, someone that could fall for their charms almost immediately.

And then, you walk in. You were clad in sweats with earphones on, rushing toward the front row seats of the lecture hall. You were chatting with your friends, yawning several times throughout your conversation with them. Jungkook couldn’t help but smirk. There was nothing special about you to point out, in fact, you were just like everyone else. Strangely enough, he found that the most intriguing part about you.

"Nope, nope, nope," Jimin shakes his head repeatedly. "Can't, won't, never will. Sorry, Tae."

They all stare at him in confusion.

"What the fuck, what's wrong with her?" Yoongi asks, crossing his arms over his chest. Jimin faces away from you, not wanting to look at you any longer.

"No, nothing," there seems to be a blush forming on his face. He was hiding something.

“Bullshit,” Taehyung furrows his brows. “Bro, if she’s crazy and one of us gets our dick bitten off, we’re all blaming you, so spit it out.”

Jimin just sighs.

"She's been giving me Professor Kwon’s notes for the past few weeks,” he starts, much to the confusion of his friends. “Her name is [Y/N]. It'll be really mean if I go after her, especially since she and I are kind of friends. Plus, I really need to pass this class. I failed last quarter..."

The boys groan. Jimin was no fun.

"She's not my type so I don't think I could really get into it either," Seokjin states, no longer interested in the prize after Jimin’s confession. He’s been banking off of your notes from him too. 

"Aren’t we all old enough to know not to mess with people’s feelings?" Hoseok sighs.

They roll their eyes at Hoseok’s statement. Who was he trying to fool with the nice guy act? He probably fooled around with girls just as much as the other guys did.

"Yeah, I’m backing out," Yoongi agrees, "and she hates me so there's that."

They all look at him questioningly and he puts his hands up in the air from their gazes.

"What? I just realized who she’s talking to down there.”

He pointed at a girl discreetly, but no one seemed to recognize her.

“Her friend and I dated,” Yoongi continues, “and I broke up with her over text and blocked her without letting her respond. That whole friend group is pretty much pissed at me. I'd rather not have to deal with them again."

The guys look disapprovingly at him. Breaking up over text was harsh, but probably not the worst thing Yoongi has done to his exes.

"You're actually a piece of shit," Namjoon sighs. "I really do need my rent paid though..."

Jungkook nods in agreement. It's been almost impossible to balance Taekwondo practices, college papers, and working a part-time job all at once. If he could somehow find a way to quit his job for a while and get priority registration for classes, then he doesn't mind getting his hands a little dirty in the process. Plus, you were cute enough and he's sure you weren't too difficult to befriend as long as he doesn't mention Yoongi in any conversations.

"I'm in," Jungkook chides, finally saying something after such a long period of silence.

They all look at him with disbelief in their eyes. Jungkook was never the one to partake in Taehyung's bets. In fact, he was the one usually ridiculing them for participating. He must have been really desperate if he was willing to do it.

"I mean, it's all yours if you want," Namjoon replies, "I don't wanna turn it into a competition.”

“Don’t worry dude,” Jungkook fist bumps Namjoon, “I’ll quit my job and refer you for it.”

They nod at each other as if they were on the same wavelength. 

“I knew I could rely on you,” Namjoon says, faking tears from his eyes. The boys groan in response.

“Alright,” Taehyung claps his hands. “In exchange for providing me some mindless entertainment and going out with [Y/N], you will get your rent paid for the rest of the year and get early registration for next quarter. Sounds like a pretty sweet deal to me.”

Jimin shakes his head.

“I don’t know about this, guys...”

Jungkook doesn’t hear him and instead takes one last look at you. You catch him in the corner of your eye and you can’t help but feel flustered at his serious expression. 

“Should be easy enough,” he mutters to himself and turns his gaze back onto his friend.

“So we have a deal?” Taehyung asks.

He smirks, shaking the outreached hand Taehyung held out for him. He steals another glance at you and he finds you staring right back. He gives you a wink.

“Deal.”

—

Jungkook slid into the seat next to yours in the campus canteen, his eyes filled with determination. His posture was laid-back, but it was a little too obvious that he was trying to act like he didn’t care.

“Hi,” he greets you in a breathy tone- girls loved it when he spoke with his breathy tone.

“Hi?”

You’d been sensing that someone was staring at you during the lecture, but you thought that was just the paranoia that came from being near such an intimidating group of guys. Turns out, you should always trust your instincts.

Jungkook had a boyish grin on his face that made you want to smile back but also stare at him in disgust.

“I heard you help Jimin with Professor Kwon’s notes,” he whispers mischievously. “I’m struggling myself, actually...”

Not really, but you know. This was the easiest tactic to approach you- tackle your similarities. You nod understandingly at his words, not quite getting that he was flirting with you.

“Yeah I can send you the Google Drive folder,” you comply, taking your phone out. “But you can’t let Professor Kwon know or else he’ll flip out. He doesn’t want people to have the notes for some odd reason...”

You trail off but Jungkook just scoffs. You seemed clueless.

“That’s not what I necessarily meant,” he says, a little shy this time. “I need a tutor.”

You furrow your brows at him.

“Yeah, you’re gonna have to pay me for that,” you say seriously. The last time you offered to tutor someone for free, they ended up blaming you for their failing grade and screaming about it all over social media. You needed money to compensate for that emotional trauma. “Microeconomics is hard to teach.”

“Well thankfully I’m a good student,” Jungkook teases. You stare at him with a deadpan face.

“You wouldn’t need my help if you were a good student,” you say blankly, standing up from your seat. “My hourly rate is 20,000 Won. Take it or leave it.”

Jungkook’s eye twitched. He had to spend his money to get Taehyung’s money? Well, the payout would be worth it in the end anyway. He reaches out a hand to you.

“If you’d have me,” he says cheekily, looking up at you. You take his hand in yours and maybe for a second you felt your heart skip a beat, but that was soon over when you let go of him.

“You have sweaty hands,” you say straightforwardly. You wipe your hand on your shirt and he coughs awkwardly at how unresponsive you truly were. Didn’t Jimin say you were a nice person? 

You take your barely-touched lunch tray and walk away from his pensive figure.

“Wait, can I get your number?” he yells. You don’t look back.

“Alright, whatever,” he mumbles to himself. “I’ll just ask Jimin, I guess.”

Without even a second glance, you disappear from his sight. He sits back on his chair, heaving out a deep sigh. Sure, this wasn’t the first girl that didn’t care much for his advances, but you didn’t even crack a smile or anything. This is going to be harder than he thought...

—

“She hates me,” Jungkook whines to Seokjin as they walked down the university halls to their next shared class. “Yesterday, I went up to her to get her number and I left with a fucking debt. Does that make any sense?”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have taken on the bet,” Seokjin yawned. “Namjoon would have wooed her with his poetry by now or some shit.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m sure she’s interested in a dude who can’t even put on a hat without causing an earthquake.”

Seokjin smacked him on the back.

“At least he’d have the guts to say no to having a fucking tutor,” Seokjin replies. “You dug your own grave, man. Now roll around in it.”

“Do you want me to succeed or not?” 

“I want you to not be a fucking dumbass, Jungkook,” Seokjin sighs. “Do you really wanna make your reputation worse than it already is?”

Just as Jungkook was about to reply, he catches a glimpse of you walking farther ahead in the university courtyard. You were a bit far but he’s sure he could make it if he hurries. He smacks the binder he held in his right hand onto Seokjin’s chest.

“Yo, can you cover for me,” he asks hastily and Seokjin stares at him with a concerned gaze. He watches as Jungkook takes off his backpack and leaves it on the ground. Jungkook looked about ready to break out in a sprint.

“What the fuck, why?” Seokjin questions.

“Just tell the TA I’m out for a bit,” he says in response, already running ahead to catch up to you. “I’m winning this fucking bet or I’ll die trying.”

Jin stands still, mouth agape. Jungkook really left him with his backpack and binder just to talk to you. He shakes his head. ‘I need to make new friends,’ he thought to himself, picking up the discarded backpack and walking in the direction of the class Jungkook was planning to be late to.

You were walking with your earphones on, not noticing someone sprinting at you in record speed. You only turn your music off when Jungkook stops in front of you, his hands on his knees. He was panting heavily.

“Hey,” he says through deep breaths. You nod at him awkwardly.

“Why are you running?”

“I wanted to... catch up to you... and I thought... you were closer... but the run here... took... fucking... forever,” he says breathlessly. “Water. I need water.”

You take out a bottle from your tote bag hastily, handing it to him. He took it into his hands, grazing your fingers a bit. As he was about to start chugging it, you halted him.

“Waterfall,” you say curtly- you were still planning to drink out of it later after all. 

He nods in response, a drop of sweat cascading the side of his neck. After he was done, there was practically no water left anyway. ‘I’m gonna have to refill it myself,’ you thought begrudgingly. You stuff it back into your bag and wait until his breaths become more even.

“A bit out of shape, huh?”

He scoffs and gives you a glare, clearly offended.

“I actually have a Taekwondo scholarship, you know that? I just wasn’t warmed up and I’m naturally sweaty so it’s not like-”

You laugh a little.

“I’m joking,” you say, a smile adorning your face. He feels his face turn red and he can’t help but purse his lips out of embarrassment. Jeon Jungkook couldn’t take a fucking joke.

“O-oh,” he says shyly, avoiding your gaze. Why was he acting more like an idiot than usual? You hear the chiming bells of the university tower and stare at your phone to check the time.

“Don’t you have a class?” you ask him. His eyes widen and soon he was dashing off again. He turns around mid-run, jogging backward to face you.

“My number is 06-1313-9197,” he yells, loud enough for the other late students in the courtyard to hear. Most of them roll their eyes, knowing that Jungkook was flirting with another girl yet again. You’re embarrassed by the amount of attention he’s getting, but punch his number on your phone anyway.

“Text me,” he shouts. “I’ll always respond to you.”

Now it was your turn to be flustered.

—

"That’s wrong,” you say, reaching over to Jungkook’s notebook and marking a large ‘X’ on his paper. “You’re not supposed to apply that function for this problem...”

Jungkook stared at you with a tired face. He didn’t think he was too bad at the mathematical aspect of Microeconomics, but it seemed like it was your life’s mission to make him look like an idiot. Of course, you caught every mistake that he made- even the ones he made on purpose just to see if you were really paying attention to his work and not bamboozling him.

“My bad,” he mutters, copying down the same problem on a different sheet of paper. He didn’t even get a chance to make a move on you today- not like he could make any big developments in the campus library anyway.

“Is it like this?” he asks, tilting his notebook to face you. You take a hard look at it and nod.

“Yeah, just make sure you know the difference between these two formulas, or else you’ll mess up on the midterm,” you say thoughtfully.

This was your fourth or fifth tutoring session by now? Truth be told he wasn’t really counting. Each moment he spent with you kind of blended together and he didn’t quite know if that was a bad thing or not.

“You know you’re not even struggling,” you say, your nose buried deep in your textbook. “It’s not like you’re completely clueless like Jimin. It seems like you’re wasting money on stuff you already know.”

Jungkook laughs heartily, getting shushed by the people around him. He really was stupid, wasn’t he?

“Yeah, well, it was just an excuse to hang out with the pretty girl in class, you know?” he says as nonchalantly as he could. You stare at him for a second and he swears he feels his body freeze over. If looks could kill...

You just shook your head with a click of your tongue and got back to reading.

“The pretty girl in class is most definitely not me,” you grumble. “If you wanted, I could’ve given you Soobin’s number without all the added hassle of you trying to come talk to me-”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Jungkook stops you from saying anything else. He looked worriedly at your face. “I don’t even know who the hell Soobin is, why would I want her number?”

You look at him and finally, you chuckle. ‘She really does have a nice smile,’ Jungkook thought to himself. It would be nice if he could make you laugh more often and not just on rare occasions like this.

“You’re saying you don’t know Yoongi’s ex?” you tease slightly. You were finally letting your guard down with him and Jungkook smirked. One wall down, another million more to go.

“Bold of you to assume that I know any of Yoongi’s exes,” he says and you scoff. “He’s an asshole when it comes to dating.”

You roll your eyes.

“Isn’t that your whole friend group?”

He pouts. You knew of his reputation after all. Jungkook thought he could get away playing a nice boy act, but it didn't seem possible considering your knowledge of him. A little white lie couldn’t hurt in the end.

“Not me,” he replies. “I choose my relationships pretty carefully.”

You take a glance at him before jotting down a few more words in your notebook.

“Well,” you start off, a little shy to admit what you were about to say, “I guess we both have that in common.”

He tilts his head rather cutely out of confusion.

“What do you mean?”

You cough awkwardly, adjusting yourself on one of the library’s notoriously squeaky seats.

“I’ve never really had a boyfriend before,” you say quietly. His eyes bulge out from their sockets.

“You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not,” you say, a hint of amusement in your voice.

“Like, you’ve never been on a date or what?”

“I have,” you say hesitantly. “I’ve been on a few but they just never led into anything serious. I was pretty focused on studying in high school so there weren’t really any opportunities to get involved with someone. Plus, the guys who pursued me weren’t very... attractive.”

Jungkook laughs loudly again, much to the dismay of the other students in the library. He liked that you didn’t beat around the bush- it was easier to talk to you that way.

“And me?” he asks teasingly, laying his head on his arm that was atop the desk. He looks up at you with that boyish grin of his that gave you small butterflies in your stomach. You stare back at him, but only for a second. You ignore his watchful gaze and continue to flip through your textbook, trying to find the passage you last read. He keeps his eyes locked on you and you just couldn’t resist.

“What about you?” you ask, feigning ignorance.

“Am I attractive?” he replies as bluntly as he could. You stop your movements and he chuckles.

“You’re... cute,” you settle on that word. Cute. It was safe enough to not be misinterpreted too much. He sits up straight with a satisfied smirk. He takes his pen and draws a heart on the side of your notebook. He winks at you when you stare back at him, puzzled by his actions.

“You are too.”

—

“Tell me you’re lying,” Soobin whines disappointingly, shaking your shoulders. You were trying to eat lunch undisturbed in one of the campus cafes but your two friends seem hell-bent on making you suffer. “There’s no way you’re friends with Jungkook.”

You sigh, attempting to rid yourself of Soobin’s grasp but to no avail.

“He’s an asshole, [Y/N],” Gaeun sighs disappointingly. “I thought you were a feminist, why the fuck do you even tolerate him?”

You glare at her for a split second before going back to prying Soobin off you.

“Jungkook has no respect for women or himself. It shows in how many shitty friends he has,” Soobin chants, still clearly bitter that Yoongi dumped her.

You shake your head, rolling your shoulders back when she finally lets go of you.

“Jungkook’s not even as bad as you guys describe him,” you reply. “He’s actually been really sweet.”

The girls take a glance at each other and burst in a fit of laughter.

“You must be out of your damn mind,” Gaeun cries. You cower slightly at their words. It’s not like you said anything that controversial, did you?

Soobin slaps Gaeun on the shoulder when she realizes how your face had soured. It wasn’t right to judge you for your choice of friends so harshly, no matter how horrid said person was.

“As long as it doesn’t go past friends,” she says soothingly, but that only made you feel worse.

“Why?” you ask a little hesitantly. “Does Jungkook sleep around?”

Gaeun nods, a worrying glimpse in her eyes.

“He's not exactly the type to kiss and stay...”

You nod understandingly. You weren’t too clueless to believe Jungkook when he said he was “careful” on who he dated. As long as you knew the boundaries that came with being his tutor, everything should be fine... right?

“Don’t worry guys,” you say with determination. “I’m not the type to get played-”

“Of course you are!” Gaeun sighed. “Guys gravitate towards girls like you who lack experience. Jungkook’s a fucking weirdo, of course, he’s gonna try and-”

“[Y/N]!” a shout from across the cafe screams. That distracted you from the various insults Gaeun was spewing from her mouth. You get that she was being critical of Jungkook, but did she have to speak ill of you too?

You look around and catch Jungkook waving frantically at you. He stops at your table and takes a mere glance at your friends before setting his focus on you. 

“Do you have time to help me out today? One of the papers for my writing class-”

“You tutor him in writing now, too?!” Soobin exclaimed, mouth agape. “[Y/N], what the fuck.”

You try to ignore your friend’s overreaction, a little disheartened when Jungkook looked hurt at their words. He had started to shy away from them as if he didn’t feel welcomed.

“Nevermind, I’ll just ask you later-”

“Actually,” you say standing up. “I’m free now.”

The two girls look back and forth between you and Jungkook, noticing the stars in your eyes when you looked at him. They did not like the thought of you two together at all.

“But [Y/N]-” 

You ignored their words and start to walk away, hoping Jungkook would come catch up to you. You didn’t quite know why their insistence on him being a bad person had made your blood boil. It wasn’t like you weren’t aware of his flirtatious tendencies, but hearing from your friends that you shouldn’t pursue a guy that you liked-

You stopped in your tracks and feel heat climb up your face. Like.

No way you admitted that just now. There’s no possible way you actually like-

“Hey, wait up,” Jungkook pants, his hand touching your shoulder. “Why do you walk so fast for-”

He sees your shocked face and turns you towards him, his hands on your shoulder similar to how Soobin had shaken you just earlier. Except this time, it felt comforting. It made your whole body feel warm as if you were coated with a weighted blanket. Was he always this gorgeous?

“What’s wrong?” he asks, inspecting your face closely. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

“N-nothing,” you swipe his hands away and rush out the door of the cafe. He smirks at how flustered you look, maybe he did have an effect on you after all.

Jungkook takes a last glimpse at the two girls who sat in their seats, staring at him disapprovingly. He raised an eyebrow at them and shoved his hands in the pocket of his jeans, following after you. ‘They’ll try to get in the way,’ Jungkook thought to himself, ‘but they’re already too late.’

The girls clenched their fist out of annoyance. He was definitely trying to get on their nerves.

“There’s something strange about what’s happening,” Gaeun mutters.

“They’re up to something,” Soobin agrees. “I don’t trust him at all.”

—

It’s been a week since you last spoke to your friends, not really wanting to read the messages they bombarded you with about how you should stay for away from Jungkook. It was hard to take any of their advice seriously when they were just badmouthing him without reason. They based all their opinions on him from rumors around the school and Soobin always felt the need to compare him to Yoongi even though they both had very different personalities. Well, at least to you they seemed very different.

Frankly, you were sick of their nagging and just turned off notifications from that group chat altogether. Instead of sitting next to them during Microeconomics, you opted to sit with Jungkook in the back of the lecture hall instead of at the front with them. Jungkook had abandoned his own rowdy friend group to sit with you and flashed them quick smirks and winks whenever they’d stare at him. 

Slowly, Jungkook had started to become a constant in your day to day life. You walked to class with him, ate with him, played video games with him. It was sort of strange how used to you were of his presence, like you had known him your whole life. Jungkook snaps you out of your thoughts when he starts humming a little tune.

He draws a heart in the corner of your notes- which you find he has a habit of doing whenever he wanted to say something stupid.

“I don’t get what he’s saying,” he pouts cutely. “It’s like he’s speaking a foreign language.”

You shake your head, not paying him any mind.

“Well maybe if you actually paid attention,” you mutter softly. He scoots closer to you and you feel yourself stiffen.

“But you’re tutoring me later on anyway,” he says teasingly. “I get more bang for my buck if I know less.”

“Bang for my buck,” you scoff. “Who even says that anymore?”

He points at himself nonchalantly and you can’t help but crack a smile as you continue to focus on the professor’s words. You don’t even cower under his gaze like you usually do when he stares at you with those puppy dog eyes.

“What do you want?” you ask, finally caving when Professor Kwon adjusted something in his PowerPoint slides. He smiles.

“I want to hold your hand,” Jungkook replies and you could feel your palms clam up. His flirtatious comments increased as time passed and you didn’t really quite know whether he was just teasing you or if he was genuinely interested in you. You weren’t very good at taking a hint.

“I’m writing right now...” you reply, slightly skipping a beat in your note-taking. He really was the ultimate distraction, wasn’t he?

Jungkook pouts sadly, but you can tell an idea pops up in his mind when his eyes start to glimmer. He sits his hand on your thigh and you jolt back from the touch of his hand on the material of your jeans. He pulls away slightly, scared that he had made you uncomfortable.

“I just want to put my arm around you,” he asks innocently. “Are you okay with that?”

You calm yourself down and nod. For goodness sake, you weren’t a child- why did a hand on your thigh make you so nervous for?!

“Yeah,” you say, a little more confident despite your nerves. “Go ahead.”

He smiles softly at you and connects his hand to your waist, pulling you a little closer to him. It was comforting, not at all meant to be more than just a public display of affection. He finds himself getting lost in the lecture along with you, his hand playing with a loose thread on your shirt through it all. He didn’t even look at his friends who were teasing him on the other side of the class or your own friends shooting daggers into his being.

At that moment, it was you, him, and Professor Kwon giving out a lecture that had half of the students already asleep. He smiled at how diligently you worked and how your breath would quicken when Professor Kwon switched the slides without a warning. It was the little idiosyncrasies like this that caught his attention, the kind of things that made him wonder where you’d been all his life.

The smile on Jungkook’s face disappeared when he came to that realization.

Fuck.

—

Jungkook rolls around the grass while you sit on the picnic blanket you two had set up. Midterms were over and grades would soon be announced. He wanted a much-needed distraction from the monotony of constant studying and you had suggested a small picnic in a nearby park. Of course, he agreed. 

“We’re free,” he groans. “Finally free.”

Jungkook stares hungrily at the assortment of food you had laid out for the two of you. He tries to reach a hand out to grab a bottle of lemonade but ultimately fails in the end. You giggle at his silliness, popping a grape in your mouth.

“You’re welcome by the way,” you say jokingly. “Don’t think you could’ve done it without me.”

He sits up to face you, bowing deeply as if you were a traditional empress.

“Thank you,” he says, imitating a Joseon accent. He was watching far too many historical dramas recently.

“You’re embarrassing me,” you say, attempting to straighten him out. “Sit up.”

He complies, only after a few pulls from you, with a toothy grin on his face.

“Seriously, I don’t think I could have gone through the first few weeks of Professor Kwon’s class without your notes,” he sighs, opening his mouth to signal that he wanted to be fed. You roll your eyes but placed a grape between his teeth anyway.

“You have hands, you should know how to use them,” you mumble shyly.

You move to take another grape for yourself, but he grabs your wrist before you could. He intertwines his fingers into yours.

“Why should I when my hands are holding yours~,” he says in a sing-song voice. It made you want to throw up at how cheesy he was, but you couldn’t help but laugh along as he cringed at his own words. When was it so normal for him to hold your hands like this?

“You can’t go one sentence without flirting, can you?” you sigh, feigning annoyance.

“Not when it comes to you,” he replies, but you could feel sincerity laced between his laughter. “I can’t resist flirting when it makes you all giggly like this.”

You purse your lips to prevent yourself from smiling too brightly. Jungkook and you were somewhat past the point of being just friends by now, but you were too much of a coward to label what you had with him. What if there was a chance that he was just leading you on?

Jungkook saw your furrowed brows. He rubbed circles on your hands with his thumbs to ease you.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asks softly, about to let go.

“No-” you say a little too quickly, clasping him closer to you. Your faces were inches apart now, much nearer than they were before.

“D-don’t,” you attempt to say but you’re tongue tangled as you looked at his lips. He certainly does have nice lips...

“Don’t what?” he asks in a lowly voice. You start to look around you- anywhere that wasn’t him. The park was relatively empty but it still felt embarrassing to say anything too loud.

“D-don’t let me go,” you say, your eyes on the picnic blanket rather than on him. His gaze was too intense to look at. Jungkook feels his heart clench. You were cute, too cute. 

He shouldn’t be feeling this attached to you, but he couldn’t help it. Everything you did, every word that came out of your mouth- it had him wanting more from you than he could possibly handle. It was dangerous to feel this way.

“Why don’t you want me to let you go?” he asks nervously. He too was anxious for the answer. If you were to confess to Jungkook right now, he’d get the first part of the bet done, but there’d be no turning back after your confession. He would have to lie to you from now on. 

Jungkook closed his eyes, chanting to himself that it’s okay to like you for a little while, just as long as he doesn’t get too attached in the end. He needed the money, he really did.

“Because,” you start off with a sigh, staring at him now with glossy eyes. “I like you.”

Jungkook feels like he could do ten backflips in one go and it wouldn’t even drain him of energy. The smile on his face was huge, his eyes curling into that half-moon shape that made you swoon. 

Jungkook was relieved and if the boys asked, it was because he’d only have to date you for three months. He’d die before he’d admit to them that he caught feelings because Taehyung, as generous as he was with his bets, would never give Jungkook the money unless he cleanly broke up with you. It was one of his unspoken rules.

“I like you too.”

You smile at him and he can’t help but pull you close, his lips hovering over yours.

“Can I?”

You nod.

His lips graze yours slightly but he pushes a bit closer when he feels you lean into his touch. He kisses you again, and again, and again, but you pull away when his tongue had started to prod at your lips. Your face was flushed,  embarrassed to be doing this in such a public place.

“Maybe later?” you say, panting slightly. He gives you a cheeky grin and nods.

“At my place?” he asks with a wink.

You hesitate, letting go of his arms, twiddling with your fingers. You wanted to set clear labels on what your relationship was. You didn't want to accidentally get caught up in a friends-with-benefits situation and be all shocked when Jungkook ends up breaking your heart.

“So we’re dating now, right?” you ask cautiously, looking at him with a worried glint in your eyes. 

Jungkook’s mouth opens to speak but no words come out. He thinks a little harder about the whole situation... He was getting good grades, spending some quality time with a girl he’s clearly attracted to, and having his rent paid off all in one? He was killing three birds with one stone. It shouldn’t be too big of a problem to catch feelings for now, right? It’s not like any of his relationships lasted longer than a couple of months anyway.

He nods, cupping your face lightly.

“Yeah,” he hesitates. “We’re dating.”

Jungkook wasn’t aware, as he gives you another light peck, that it wasn’t possible to have his cake and eat it too.

—

It happens naturally. You coming in and out of his apartment that he shared with his friends, you tangling your legs with his underneath the sheets of his bed. It was hard to imagine a life where you didn’t wake up with him by your side. You were so wrapped up in his touch, so wrapped up in the sweet words he would whisper into your ears, that you spent most of your time with him. 

You weren’t really up to date with your friends anymore and he didn’t really hang out with his either. Jungkook shared an apartment with Seokjin and Hoseok, and so the only contact he had with the other boys was when they visited those two. He should’ve known to take you back home when all the boys bombarded into his living room, where you sat with him watching TV. 

“The lovebirds are at it again,” Taehyung coos, a mysterious glint in his eyes. “The honeymoon stage hasn’t passed quite yet, has it?”

Jungkook chucks one of the sofa’s throw pillows at his friend, obviously annoyed. What the fuck did Taehyung think he was doing?

“Quit it,” he mutters. You were sitting next to Jungkook, his arm around your shoulder protectively

“Why?” Yoongi yawns. “Anyone can see how incredibly in love you two are.”

You didn’t quite like the smirk he gave the two of you. This didn’t feel like regular teasing... it felt like he knew something that you weren't aware of. It made you curl your toes out of fear.

“Guys,” Jimin says calmly. “Stop it.”

The boys shrug their shoulders as if they said nothing wrong.

“We’re just pointing out how cute they are together,” Taehyung noted, “It’s not like we’re lying to her or anything-”

“Yeah, or leading her on or anything like that-”

“I think I should go,” you say hurriedly, uncomfortable at how tense the atmosphere was. Jungkook was clenching his fists, about ready to start a fight any second. Knowing his strength, you didn’t want anyone to walk around with a bruised eye because you couldn’t handle a few jokes- if that’s what Taehyung and Yoongi think they’re making. Harmless jokes.

“I’ll take you home,” Jungkook announces, standing up with you. Namjoon pulls him down back on the couch.

“Let someone else take her,” he says sternly. “We need to talk.”

Jungkook was about to protest until you spoke up.

“I can get home by myself just fine.”

“Hoseok and I can take you,” Seokjin insists, pulling the unassuming man up with him. “We don’t mind.”

Hoseok gives you a lopsided smile and you return an equally awkward one.

“Okay, that’s settled,” you say, clapping your hands. You walk over to Jungkook. “I’ll text you later okay?”

He nods, grabbing your hand and kissing it lightly. Yoongi scoffs and Taehyung glares at Jungkook. The dirty glances they were giving each other... You didn’t like it at all.

“Let me know when you get home, okay?”

“Okay.”

—

The walk to your apartment was unnecessarily awkward, Hoseok and Seokjin were talking too much and you talked too little. You tried to respond to their every quip, but you weren’t in the mood for chatting after that whole mess.

“You okay, [Y/N]?” Hoseok asks worriedly. “Don’t think too much about what those idiots said back there, they’re like that all the time.”

You nod, keeping your eyes on the ground. There was something chipping away at the back of your mind, something you wanted to get out of your chest.

“Would you say Jungkook and Yoongi act similarly?” you hesitate to say, “like with relationships?”

The two boys exchanged nervous glances at each other.

“Well, it depends,” Seokjin starts, choosing his words specifically. “What about relationships specifically?”

“Does he...,” you start off, not knowing the right phrase without sounding too harsh, “play around with girls? Like how Yoongi played around with Soobin?”

Hoseok looked at you with a raised brow.

“Who’s Soobin?” he asks before getting punched in the arm by Seokjin. “What the fuck bro!”

Seokjin clears his throat.

“What Hoseok meant to say,” he starts, glaring at his friend a little too harshly, “is that Yoongi never really introduces us to his girlfriends. You, on the other hand, are one of the few girls Jungkook actually took the time to invite over.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok chimes in. “He’s not exactly the most chivalrous, but he wouldn’t ghost someone like Yoongi did.”

Somehow their words weren’t enough to satisfy you. There was still something off in the conversation that transpired between the three boys- as if they were all keeping something from you. You stopped abruptly in front of your apartment complex, finally making eye-contact with the two boys.

“Do you think...” you start, a slight quiver in your voice, “that Jungkook is cheating on me?”

The two boys let out a deep breath that you didn’t even notice they were holding and laughed joyously together. They cackled as if what you said was the funniest thing they had ever heard in their life. Seokjin wipes a stray tear from his eye.

“Y-you think Jungkook’s cheating on you?!”

You nod, a little embarrassed at their reaction. Hoseok shakes his head, sighing out of his laughter.

“Trust me,” Hoseok starts, his breath evening out. “Jungkook would never cheat on you.”

You start to giggle along with them until a serious look suddenly takes over Seokjin’s features. He faces you fully.

“But listen [Y/N],” he starts. “If Jungkook hurts you, just know that he does love you. Like, undeniably. He does.”

“And we’re not just saying that as his friends either,” Hoseok continues. “We know how he’s like and we can tell that he really does like you.”

You smile at the two, feeling a small sense of comfort at their words.

“Thank you, guys. I mean it.”

They pat you on the back.

“Anything for Jungkook’s girlfriend.”

—

You walk through the campus cafeteria, eyes searching for a free table that you can sit alone in. Jungkook had Taekwondo practice so there would be no lovey-dovey feeding time with him. 

He’s been a lot tenser since the living room incident (which was already a week ago) and it seemed like he got more agitated as the days passed. Not towards you directly, but he’d always mutter slight insults whenever Yoongi or Taehyung passed by. It made you worried that you had done something to possibly drive a wrench into their relationship without even knowing it.

‘Whatever,’ you thought, ‘I’ll talk about it with him when he comes over later.’

You aren’t able to find a seat, though, when you feel dainty fingers wrap around  your elbow to pull you back lightly.

“[Y/N],” Gaeun says in a low voice. “We need to talk.”

It wasn’t like you had been ignoring them deliberately, though that was definitely the case at the start. You just couldn’t find the time to really hang out with them as much as you used to since you were with Jungkook most of the time. It was like that too when Gaeun and Soobin were in relationships, so you never really felt bad about doing it yourself.

“Yeah sure. I miss you guys,” you smile at her, but she doesn’t return it back.

“Come with me.”

Gaeun leads you to a table near the back of the room, where Soobin was sat up against the wall with her own tray of food. You sit down in front of her and Gaeun takes the seat next to Soobin.

“Good, you’re here,” Soobin says, apprehension laced in her voice. “We need to talk about Jungkook.”

You roll your eyes.

“Not this again-”

“[Y/N],” Gaeun warns. “Listen.”

You keep quiet, a little intimidated of how scary their expressions were.

“It’s all a bet,” Soobin says sternly.

You furrow your brows at her. She tends to speak vaguely when you needed her to be specific the most.

“What?”

“It’s a bet, [Y/N],” Gaeun repeats for her. “Jungkook’s only dating you because Taehyung said he’d pay his rent off if he did.”

You clench your fist on the table. How could they sit there and spew lies so easily?

“What are you guys-”

“Those dicks do this all the time,” Soobin rambles. “They play stupid games with girls just to fucking break their hearts later on and-”

“I don’t believe you,” you say confidently. “Jungkook would never do that to me. Besides-”

Gaeun didn’t even wait until you stopped talking to play a recording on her phone. The voices were familiar enough to recognize.

“So you’re telling me that Jungkook’s just fucking around with [Y/N] because he wants priority registration? You have to be fucking joking...”

You could tell from the sound of the person’s voice that it was Soobin. It sounded like she was putting on her clothes.

“Of course not. He’s doing it for priority registration and his rent getting paid for the rest of the year. I’m not joking when I say Tae goes big with his bets. He likes to flex his money on us like that.”

Your jaw drops at the sound of the man’s voice. It was Yoongi. You were sure of it.

“And you guys don’t feel bad? Like at all?”

“Why should we? Jungkook’s planning to break up with her next week anyway so she doesn’t catch feelings for too long. It’s not like they were gonna last past the three-month deal...”

Gaeun paused the recording when she sees you bite your lip so harshly that blood starts to surface. This didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel real.

“I hooked up with him last weekend,” Soobin admits, shame written all over her face. “He was spewing stuff about Jungkook spending all his time with you and not really hanging out with the boys like he used to.”

“You still hook up with Yoongi? After all he did to you?” you ask, not meaning to come off aggressive but undoubtedly did.

“Look,” Gauen starts, taking the heat off of Soobin. “She was just drunk and looking to have fun. I was with her that night and I was talking to Namjoon. He...”

Gaeun trailed off, but you were sick of it. Sick of being kept in the dark from something you should’ve known all along.

“What?”

“H-he told me that all the boys were getting tired of him playing around with you,” she says, twiddling with her fingers. “He’s supposed to break up with you today. Some of the guys think he’s just prolonging it to fuck with you and they’re getting really annoyed-”

You bite back the tears threatening to spill over any minute now.

“Hoseok and Seokjin told me to trust Jungkook. They said he wouldn’t hurt me-”

“Did they also tell you that their rent gets paid too if Jungkook pulled through with the bet?” Soobin replies angrily. “Because they live together, don’t they?”

You open your mouth but no sound comes out- just a small whimper. Your lips start to quiver and you bite your lip again to calm yourself down. When you had collected your thoughts, you glared up at the two girls.

“And you didn’t tell me this earlier?”

Soobin scoffed.

“You were fucking ignoring us too, how were we supposed to tell you?”

“Still it wouldn’t have killed you to-”

“Don’t take your anger out on us,” Gaeun warns, her finger pointing at you. “Jungkook is the one to blame. We told you from the start that he was bad news.”

You pursed your lips and Gaeun put her finger down, feeling guilty that she lashed out on you when obviously you were just processing the information.

“Hey, I’m sorry-”

“Why me?” you ask with teary eyes. “What did I even do to them to deserve this?” 

They glance over at each other for a long while before Soobin breaks the silence. You had the right to know, but at the same time, they knew it would break you.

“It’s a sick game that they play where they just choose someone randomly...” Soobin starts off gently handing off the next few words to Gaeun, “and you were just the first girl to walk into Professor Kwon’s lecture hall. He thought you’d be...”

“Easy,” Soobin finished.

Just as they predicted, you had burst out in tears.

—

Jungkook opens the door to your apartment, using the spare key you had given him a month earlier since he tended to visit often. It was more convenient that way. 

He was freshly out of his Taekwondo garb, still sweaty, but otherwise clean from taking a shower at the campus gym. He found it strange at how dark the room was, but he knew you were on the couch from the noticeable lump of a blanket on it.

All Jungkook wanted was to cuddle with you and fall asleep in your arms after such a harrowing day. Lord knows he needs your warmth right now.

He smiled as he made his way towards you, but stops in his tracks when you sit up from where you laid. He couldn’t quite see you in the darkness so he walked to the light switch to turn the lights on. His heart broke at the sight of you.

Tears stained your cheeks, your eyes red and puffy from all the crying. You looked a mess and his blood boiled at the thought of someone hurting you. 

“What happened?” he asked, rushing over to you and cupping your face in his hands. You push him away.

“You don’t have to act anymore,” you say softly. “I can handle it.”

He looks at you with furrowed brows.

“What are you talking about-”

“I get that you really need the money,” you say through bated breaths, “I get that financially, it would have really helped, but did you really have to hurt me to do that?”

Jungkook’s breathing stopped. Everything was happening too quickly, his world crashing down when you uttered those words. He knew what this meant, knew that now you would see past his lies. Jungkook couldn’t have you finding out this way. 

He kneeled in front of you, attempting to wipe away the tears from your eyes but you push him off.

“[Y/N] no-”

“It could’ve been anyone,” you whimper, trying to look up at the ceiling to prevent any more tears from falling down. “Anyone could’ve walked through that door and you would’ve been okay with it.”

“That’s not true-” he interjects but you stop him.

“A-and you flirted with me all the time ‘cause you knew that I wasn’t used to it,” you say, your voice quivering. “You took advantage of me.”

Jungkook shakes his head rapidly, eyes pleading for you to let him speak. It hurt seeing you refuse to even look at him, to have your eyes so filled with sadness because of what he did to you. He fucked up, he fucked up so bad.

“No, you have to listen-”

“They told me not to trust you,” you whimper somberly. “They told me and I didn’t believe them because I... I was delusional or something. I thought that someone like you could actually like someone like me-”

His heart broke. It wasn’t you that didn’t deserve him. It was him. All him.

“Please don’t say that-”

“Did you come here to seal the deal? To finally break up with me?” you ask sadly. “Are you happy you’ll get the classes you want next quarter, Jungkook?”

He clenches his teeth. Jungkook knows you’re mad, knows you have a right to be, but it feels like he’s being cornered by you. Why won’t you give him the chance to speak?

“[Y/N], no,” he says sternly, “You have to trust me when I say that it went past just a bet. I like you. Genuinely, I like you.”

There was no point in lying any longer. You deserved to know the truth, but he needed you to know all of it- not just the information your friends cherry-picked to fit their narrative. He tried to speak again, but you wouldn’t let him.

“How could you,” you whimper. “How could someone be so cruel?”

Jungkook’s heart breaks at the words. He should’ve seen this coming. How could he delude himself into thinking he’d be okay if you find out- that he’d be fine seeing you heartbroken? He was disgusted with himself.

“I’m sorry [Y/N],” he whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head, your vision getting blurry from the tears. He clasps your hands in his, knowing that it used to soothe you whenever you felt worried over something, but you just wailed harder at his touch. He didn’t know what to do, he didn't even know where to start.

“Stop pretending like you care,” you cry. “Please. It hurts.”

“It was a bet,” he admits and he breaths through the words to prevent himself from getting too emotional, “but I promise that my feelings are genuine. You have to trust me.”

“Trust you?” you ask crudely.

You stare at him, slowing your breaths to ease the crying. There was a certain emptiness in your gaze and it scared him. It was awfully frightening having you looking at him with a certain animosity that was not there before. Like he was a stranger.

“I can’t do that anymore, Jungkook,” you say softly, “because I hate you.”

—

A/N: Gasp A double update?! Say it isn’t so... I had so much fun writing this!!! Probably one of my favorite fics I’ve written in a while because I love this trope. How do y’all feel about Jungkook? Forgive or forget? Let me know!! Thank you @altus-gens​ for requesting this story, I hope you like it :)

Please leave any comment, critiques, or just random thoughts about my story! I’m planning my murder mystery series rn and I’m so excited (I might... do an album giveaway along with it...) I really love the direction I’m taking this blog in and I hope you guys are excited for the stories to come~~ 

buy me a coffee?

[luxaofhesperides]

stealing clothes

college au ft. domestic joongdok. i am so predictable.

also on ao3.

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Kim Dokja is extremely lucky to have Yoo Joonghyuk as his roommate. Not just because Yoo Joonghyuk is the campus heartthrob and Kim Dokja is the one who gets to see him everyday, and not because Yoo Joonghyuk is the perfect house husband, cleaning and cooking because he banned Kim Dokja from doing both. 

While both those things are nice, the best part about having Yoo Joonghyuk as his roommate is stealing his shirts. 

Not to do anything weird! They’re just… comfortable.

He even got permission! For the first few, at least. 

It all starts because Yoo Joonghyuk was going to throw out perfectly good shirts that have been worn and washed enough to become soft, the type of softness that even the most high quality shirts can’t capture. They weren’t dirty, or torn, just old. So Kim Dokja protests this and tries to get Yoo Joonghyuk to keep them, only for him to scowl and throw the shirts at him.

“You keep them then,” he said, then left. And Kim Dokja did. 

He’s well aware that wearing his hot roommate’s shirts might be (is) weird, so he only wears them on long nights when he needs some extra comfort to get him through his last assignments, or when Yoo Joonghyuk isn’t home. He never wears them when Yoo Joonghyuk might see. He’d rather die. 

And because his wonderful roommate is out for the night, no doubt at a party celebrating his latest gaming tournament win, Kim Dokja is settled in for a long night of reading, curled up on the couch in one of Yoo Joonghyuk’s old shirts. It’s long enough to reach down past his thighs, so he doesn’t bother wearing pants, and a blanket over his shoulders helps with the chill his exposed collarbones bring. 

The apartment is quiet, most people out or sleeping, and the latest update of his favorite web novel is a long one. And should he get hungry, there’s dinner in the fridge, courtesy of Yoo Joonghyuk who is very determined to get Kim Dokja eating more regularly. 

It’s been too long since he was able to be so relaxed and comfortable. No urgent deadlines, no projects to stress about, no tests in the near future hanging over his head like a guillotine. 

He’s so comfortable that halfway through the chapter he’s reading, Kim Dokja begins nodding off. The living room is gradually getting darker as the sun begins to set, and he sees no reason why he shouldn’t take a nap; his sleep schedule is fucked anyways, a little rest won’t hurt him at all.

The sound of the door opening rouses him. 

Distantly, Kim Dokja hears a lock click and a heavy sigh, but half-awake, he can’t be sure if it’s real or part of a dream. 

He opens sleep-heavy eyes to a dark living room; he must have been sleeping for a few hours, long enough for the sun to fully set and the moon to shine brightly. His entire body feels heavy and slow. 

Slowly, Kim Dokja sits up, the blanket falling off his shoulders to pool around his hips. He stretches his arms up above his head, arching his spine a bit, drawing out the stretch as he shakes off the last of his nap. 

Behind him, someone chokes. 

Startled, Kim Dokja drops his arms and turns to see Yoo Joonghyuk standing in front of the hallway, staring at him with wide eyes. He’s… shirtless. Kim Dokja quickly looks away. 

“When did you get back?” he asks, trying to break the strange tension that suddenly fills the apartment.

Yoo Joonghyuk is silent for a few moments before Kim Dokja hears him step closer. “Just a few minutes ago. I thought you were asleep.”

“I was. Is it late?”

The light turns on suddenly and Kim Dokja winces, blinking to clear the spots from his vision. 

“It’s only nine.” 

Huh. He wasn’t asleep for too long then. He feels the couch dip and looks up to see Yoo Joonghyuk sitting right next to him instead of anywhere else on their rather large couch. He’s staring at Kim Dokja’s chest, which makes him shift uncomfortably. 

He glances down to see what has Yoo Joonghyuk’s attention. There’s no stains or anything…

Then his heart stops for a solid minute. He’s wearing Yoo Joonghyuk’s shirt. And Yoo Joonghyuk knows it’s his old shirt because it’s way too big for Kim Dokja! 

Please don’t bring it up, Kim Dokja mentally begs, trying to send the plea into Yoo Joonghyuk’s head. 

“Isn’t that one of my old shirts?” he asks. Telepathy has failed. Kim Dokja changes to Plan B which is Fake His Death And Start A New Life. 

“Uh. Yeah. You gave it to me,” Kim Dokja answers, hoping Yoo Joonghyuk won’t think he’s weird and kick him out. He’s not willing to give up the best roommate he’s ever had! He just can’t go back to living with the worst people in existence, who treat him horribly and steal his things. He just can’t. 

“I’ve never seen you wear them,” Yoo Joonghyuk says instead of demanding that Kim Dokja move out. 

“I don’t wear them often.”

Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes dart farther down. “You’re also not wearing pants.”

Kim Dokja pulls the blanket over his legs and tries to pretend Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t just say that. “Well, you’re not wearing a shirt! You’re only wearing…” he trails off, finally letting himself look at Yoo Joonghyuk. Those sweatpants look familiar. They look just like the ones he thought he lost months ago. “...Isn’t that mine?”

“...Our laundry must have gotten mixed up.”

That’s a lie. Yoo Joonghyuk is not one to mix up their laundry. They’ve never accidentally taken each other’s clothes. 

Kim Dokja smiles and Yoo Joonghyuk looks away, his ears turning red. “Joonghyuk-ah,” he says sweetly in a way that Yoo Joonghyuk knows is a threat.

“I don’t see why I can’t have some of your clothes if you have mine.”

“My clothes don’t fit you! And besides, isn’t it strange for us to be sharing clothes?”

“No. You should wear my clothes more often. You look good in them.”

Kim Dokja has no response to that. He freezes, then ducks his head, trying to hide his quickly warming cheeks. 

Yoo Joonghyuk, the bastard that he is, doesn’t let Kim Dokja hide. He wraps an arm around Kim Dokja’s waist and pulls him closer, hard enough to send him falling against his side. “Stop being so shy and wear my shirts while I’m around.”

“Shut up. Aren’t you supposed to be at a party?”

“I got bored and left early. I prefer being here with you.”

“Don’t think sweet talking is going to make me forget about you stealing my sweatpants.”

“Oh?” Yoo Joonghyuk runs a large hand down Kim Dokja’s spine, making him shiver. “What should I do then?”

“Nothing!” Kim Dokja hits his chest, but makes no moves to put any space between them. He is not going to be thinking about why. “Anyways, aren’t you tired? You should go to sleep since you spent hours at that tournament. Congratulations on another win, by the way.”

Smiling, Yoo Joonghyuk leans closer, forcing Kim Dokja to bend back a bit, putting more of his weight on Yoo Joonghyuk’s arm. “You were watching?”

“I always watch when you compete. What’s the point of having a popular gamer for a roommate if I can’t brag about him?”

Without another word, Yoo Joonghyuk collapses on top of him, crushing him against the couch.

“Hey!” Kim Dokja flails, then smacks Yoo Joonghyuk’s shoulder. “What’s that for!”

“You’re right, I am tired.”

“Then go to bed!” 

Yoo Joonghyuk tightens his grip on Kim Dokja’s waist, then nuzzles into his neck. The feeling of his hair brushing against his neck makes Kim Dokja shiver, not quite tickling him but just enough to have the sensation send sparks down his spine. 

He sighs softly, and feeling it against his skin brings a deep blush to Kim Dokja’s cheeks. “I’d prefer to stay here for the night,” Yoo Joonghyuk says. Kim Dokja grumbles about being squished beneath the heavy weight of his body, but ultimately decides to indulge himself and stay. 

They stay like that, sleeping on the couch, all through the night. They both wake with stiff necks in the morning, but Kim Dokja doesn’t mind at all when it lets him stay in Yoo Joonghyuk’s embrace a little longer.

Things change after that. 

Kim Dokja wouldn’t call them friends, per se. Not before That Night. Roommates, yes. Acquaintances who get along well, yes. Friends? No. 

But now, he’s not too sure what to call their relationship. They live together so they have to spend some time together, but school keeps them both busy and Kim Dokja often spends his time at the library with Han Sooyoung and Yoo Sangah while Yoo Joonghyuk streams and goes to tournaments. 

It’s more accurate to say they exist in the same space, than to say that they spend time together. 

They get along well enough, which is why they’ve renewed their lease together for another year, but somehow, after That Night Yoo Joonghyuk is suddenly… sticky.

He’s constantly making food for them. More so than before. He asks for Kim Dokja’s preferences instead of just silently handing him a plate?

Kim Dokja stares at the box of pasta in his hands. He doesn’t understand why he’s grocery shopping with Yoo Joonghyuk, but he’s gone with it for too long and can’t ask any questions now.

“Did you want pasta?” Yoo Joonghyuk asks, appearing behind him without warning. Kim Dokja jumps a little, then glares at him, annoyed by how amused he looks.

“I don’t know. Maybe. I can just buy instant noodles.”

Scowling, Yoo Joonghyuk grabs the box of pasta from his hands and adds it to the cart. “Absolutely not. I’ll make noodles for you later.”

“You can make noodles from scratch?”

“It’s not hard.”

Kim Dokja would marry Yoo Joonghyuk right that very second if asked. He also doesn’t understand why Yoo Joonghyuk is suddenly spoiling him, but he’s not going to question a good thing. He’s going to get as much as he can out of this, because who knows when it will end?

So he bumps his hip against Yoo Joonghyuk’s with a smile as they walk down the aisle, and asks, “Can we get ice cream?”

Yoo Joonghyuk does not answer for a long minute, then glances at Kim Dokja’s hopeful expression and sighs. “Fine.”

He really is getting spoiled.

Kim Dokja fully intends to use this knowledge for evil.

Another thing that’s changed: clothes. 

Since Kim Dokja didn’t complain enough about his sweatpants being stolen before he fell asleep, Yoo Joonghyuk decided he could just take Kim Dokja’s most comfortable sweatpants and wear them whenever he wants. So what if he looks really good! They’re still Kim Dokja’s and he will hold this grudge for as long as he needs to. 

He intends to steal more of Yoo Joonghyuk’s shirts as revenge, except he doesn’t need to steal anything. Because Yoo Joonghyuk just leaves his shirts in Kim Dokja’s room. So he wears them and tries not to get flustered when Yoo Joonghyuk stares at him each time he walks out of his room wearing something Yoo Joonghyuk left him. 

It’s a losing battle.

On the bright side, he no longer has to hide it. It’s still embarrassing, but he’s getting more and more used to lounging in the living room in Yoo Joonghyuk’s shirts. 

The hungry look Yoo Joonghyuk gives him is also nice to see. 

Kim Dokja may be the king of denial, but even he can’t lie to himself with how obvious Yoo Joonghyuk is being. Nor can he pretend that he isn’t doing this for that exact reason, or spending more time at the apartment to be with him. 

They’re both pushing in little ways, but it’s not enough for him to be willing to push their relationship out of the cloud of ambiguity its currently in. 

Before he knows it, half his closet is Yoo Joonghyuk’s clothes, and he has to go to Yoo Joonghyuk’s room to grab a pair of sweatpants to study in because all of them got stolen. The rude bastard really has no shame. 

“Why don’t we just keep our clothes in the same room?” Yoo Joonghyuk suggests after Kim Dokja complains to him about this. 

“Whose room?”

“Mine. Just take all your things into my room. I’ll make space for you.”

And so Kim Dokja suddenly finds himself sharing a room with Yoo Joonghyuk. And then sharing a bed. And then waking up with him to his absurdly early alarm. 

They’re not dating, and he says as much to Han Sooyoung when talking about this; she just rolls her eyes and calls him and idiot for not realizing what’s going on. 

She has absolutely no room to talk, being in a friends-with-benefits relationship with Yoo Sangah instead of just asking her out on a date like normal people would. 

They’re not dating, but Kim Dokja leans into him when they watch a movie together after rejecting a party invite. They’re not dating, but Yoo Joonghyuk kisses his cheek each morning before he gets up to make breakfast. They’re not dating, but Kim Dokja will settle into Yoo Joonghyuk’s lap while wearing nothing but one of his shirts to finish a reading for one of his classes. 

They’re not dating, but he certainly wants to. 

However, Kim Dokja would sooner pass away then actually talk about his feelings, so he bottles it up, greedily hoards all the affection he gets from Yoo Joonghyuk, and hopes he makes his move soon because Kim Dokja is starting to get impatient.

In the meantime, he’ll steal another shirt and pretend he didn’t do it on purpose just to get Yoo Joonghyuk to look at him. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sugar, Sugar 15

[FIFTEEN/END]

MASTERLIST

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape, violence, mean sugary Steve

This is a dark! sugar daddy! Steve fic. Obvious AU so please keep that in mind. :) That being said, it will be an explicit fic (18+) with noncon. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

(This chapter: violence, threats, fear  :O)

Series Summary: The reader is struggling in the big city but find opportunity before her. Will she take it?

This Chapter: The wedding day approaches but not everything goes to plan.

Author Notes: So this is another series wrapped up after a grueling two years, haha. Sorry y’all.

Please let me know what you think, like and reblog <3 love ya

🍭 🍭 🍭

The floor length mirror was trimmed with twisted gold. You stared at your reflection as your shaky hands pressed against the front of the ivory dress. The cut hid the small bump but you could not forget it. Ever since you confessed, it all happened so fast; the wedding was pushed up, the dress tailored and expedited, and invitations sent out in a rush.

It all felt surreal. The day had come but you just couldn’t accept it. How could you go through those doors and smile through it all?

You closed your eyes and let your breath out. They would knock when it was your time. Your father would be waiting to walk you down the aisle. The guests waited eagerly for the most talked about ceremony in the city. And you still felt like just a footnote in your own wedding.

You moved away from the mirror and sat unsteadily, gripping the arms of the cushioned chair, careful not to catch your veil under you. That night you told him, that was the final straw. But you didn’t forget what Sasha said. You took a picture of the broken door and wrote down the entire scene. You sent it to yourself in an email as proof.

That wasn’t the last time. You recorded Steve one day when he came in as you were texting your sister about the new date. You hadn’t answered his last message about your first appointment with the doctor. He was livid and you sat and listened to him rant as the red dots pulsed. You wrote down every instance, every time he made you appease him, every terrifying word.

Then there were the police reports. Nothing more than words in a filing cabinet but the night he choked you was just the beginning. He threatened to break your finger when you took your ring off because your hands were swelling. Then he broke your laptop when you didn’t pay him enough attention. 

As the wedding loomed closer, he only seemed to get worse. He was clingy, always touching you, marveling over your stomach. He checked in almost every hour on the hour when he was working, and you weren’t stupid enough not to notice that the building was being watched.

It was like you were living two lives and yet you were entirely trapped with him. What good could the emails do? Or the reports when the police wouldn’t act on them? You were going to marry this man and that would be the end of it; of you, of your life.

Knuckles tapped on the door and you stood. You crossed the room and inched it open the door. You flinched as you were met by an unexpected and uninvited guest.

“Sasha?” you gasped.

“You’re marrying him then?” he held the handle but you didn’t try to close the door, “the account gone, I heard nothing from you.”

“I… I’m scared,” you admitted, “when he found out, I thought he was going to--” you shook your head. He wouldn’t actually kill you.

“You know it’s not too late,” Sasha urged.

“You can’t be here, it he finds out, he’ll--”

“I’ll defend myself,” Sasha snarled uncharacteristically, “I’ll give him what he deserves.’

“No, I don’t want you to get hurt. You need to go,” you begged as you glanced past him furtively.

“I will. Come with me,” he said, “just go. Everyone’s distracted, they won’t know--”

“I can’t just leave. You don’t understand--”

“No, you don’t understand,” he argued, “if you marry him, it all gets so much more complicated. I told you that day at the café. It will be harder to fight after the vows, but right now, you can still get out.”

“And go where?”

He swallowed and looked down the hall. You could hear the distant murmur of the crowd.

“Did you do any of it? Keep a journal? Something?” he asked.

“I tried. I went to the police but nothing,” you sniffed and gripped the door tight.

“Nothing yet but that’s a start,” he chewed the inside of his lip.

“Why are you here? Why is this so important to you?”

“Because I can do something,” he hissed, “because I can’t live with it if I don’t. So come on. Come with me, I got a bigger place. It’ll have to do for now and then we’ll work on getting you standing, getting the baby somewhere to grow--”

“Am I trading him for you?”

“I’m your friend,” he said evenly, “that will never change. All I want is you safe. If it makes you feel better, I’ll sleep in the hall. You can lock me out and I’ll sleep against the door. But I came down here knowing I wouldn’t leave without you.”

“It’s a sweet fantasy but--”

“Come on,” he grabbed your hand and pushed the door open, “please, don’t go with him. It doesn’t end well. You don’t get out. It doesn’t get better.”

“I have nothing,” you quavered.

“You have me,” he said, “please don’t make me walk out of here alone.”

“I….” you uttered as your heart squeezed. “He’ll come after you.”

“Good, I want him to,” he clung to you, “please?”

You inhaled and heard the voices. Your father and your sister. You had no time to think but you knew it was your only chance.

“Let’s go,” you lifted your skirt and pulled the door shut behind you as you stepped out, “now.”

He held onto your hand as you rushed away from the voices and skirted around the corner. Sasha urged you on down the back stairs and through the maze like halls of the extravagant church. You nearly tumbled down the stairs and he caught you as you came along the narrow passage beside the main room, the guests and groom just on the other side of the wall.

You came out into the sunlight and Sasha lifted the train of your skirts as he directed you over the grass. our heels sank into the dirt as you rushed over and the organ began to play Here Comes the Bride. As he helped stuff the swathes of fabric in behind you in his modest car, the music stopped suddenly.

He closed the door as you were squished in the back seat amid your layered skirts and he got in the front. The engine turned and he nearly side swept another car as he pulled out without looking. You peeked back behind you but saw no one coming down the large steps of the church.

He turned the corner and sidled in behind a yellow cab. He looked at you in the mirror and nodded. You bit your lips nervously as reality sank in. Your chest hammered and your entire body buzzed with adrenaline. You knew it was only the beginning.

🍭

The day passed in a daze. You sat in your wedding dress waiting for all hell to break loose. Sasha sat with a beer, silently, and tapped his foot endlessly. When the silence was too much, he turned on the television but neither of you paid any attention to the old sitcom.

When the trance of disbelief dissipated, he showed you around his spacious loft. He was being paid well by Stark but you worried how long he would stay on the payroll after what he’d done. Steve wasn’t stupid and there were more photographers at the church then you’d seen collectively over the last year and a half.

“This is the second bedroom,” he showed you into a room with gleaming windows. There was a bed, a dresser, curtains, a cozy rug, all carefully selected, “I thought you’d be here sooner.”

Your eyes lingered on the box leaned against the far wall. A crib.

“Didn’t know how long…” his voice trailed off as he followed your eye line, “I’m not trying to be him. You can go anytime but I… you have a place here.”

Your eyes welled and you blotted them with your knuckles, the rough lace of your gloves scratching your cheeks, “you did all this for me?”

“I told you, I’d do anything,” he said.

“But… Sasha, I don’t--”

“I don’t expect anything from you. High school was a long time ago but you made it bearable for the biggest dweeb in the class.” He sighed and paced a circle around the room, “you know, I had the biggest crush on you. That doesn’t mean anything now, it doesn’t mean I want you to fall into my arms, but it means I want to help you. It’s the right thing to do, somehow I made a career of doing the right thing so what’s one more?”

You felt your chest sink and you covered your cheeks with your hands, “Sasha?”

“Please,” he cringed, “I was a teen boy, I think I had a thing for Oprah once. Really, it’s just… we’re friends. We’ll always be friends.”

“I can’t…” you sniffled and dropped your hands, “I don’t deserve any of this.”

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Sasha intoned, “and you don’t deserve to live like that. I know this isn’t much but I know you. You’ll find your way, you just got a little lost.”

“I…” you shook your head speechless.

“We’ll figure everything else out tomorrow. You can borrow some of my clothes for tonight and then we can see about retrieving your things from Steve,” he neared the door and stopped beside you, “or we can say fuck it and you can start all over.”

You turned and slung your arms around him. You buried your face against his shoulder as tears spilled out onto his jacket.

“How did you know?” you sobbed.

“That day at the shower,” he rubbed your back gently, “you know, lawyers learn how to read people and you never were very good at subtlety.”

“No,” you chuckled through your tears, “No, it’s why I was great as a bard.”

“Mmm,” he grumbled, “if that’s how you remember it.”

🍭

It felt like Sasha was gone forever but when you checked the clock, it had only been twenty minutes. 

You sat on the couch with your feet under you as you watched the news and rocked nervously. All anyone was talking about was Steve Rogers’ runaway bride. Your face was everywhere and the statement issued by Steve made it all the worse.

He painted you as a gold-digger, as an adulterer, as a swindler. He was the heartbroken fiancé and you were the wrongdoer. You knew it would go this way but expectation never softened reality.

You flinched as the lock turned and Sasha entered with a bag in hand. He came to the couch and set it down beside you.

“I don’t know about my taste in women's clothes but those should do,” he said as he checked his watch, “we should go soon.”

“Yeah,” you stood and opened the bag to reveal the lavender blouse and dark jeans, “you really didn’t have to--”

“You kidding, he’s gonna be surrounded by cameras. You can’t win his game if you don’t play it. I’ve dealt with his type before, they’re the ones who need lawyers on standby,” he sneered, “did you eat?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you swiped up the bag and headed for the hallway, “it was good.”

“No problem,” he shrugged as he grabbed the remote and shut off the tv, “and ignore all that nonsense.”

You got dressed and emerged as your anxiety grew to impatience. You left the apartment in brittle silence and the car ride fed the uneasy bubbling of your stomach. .

As you came up to Steve’s building, you sat for a moment before you got out. Sasha followed and shoulder away the cameras as you neared the front door

The elevator moved slowly and fidgeted uncontrollably as it dinged on Steve’s floor. You swallowed and braced yourself to face Steve. Sasha kept a few feet back as you walked down the hall and stopped at the door. You knocked as you found it locked.

It was a while before it opened but when it did, you were startled as Steve grabbed the front of your blouse and wrenched you inside. He spun you but quickly released you as he was knocked off balance and sent sprawling over the floor. Sasha stood above him with his hands in fists.

“Hey,” he pointed at Steve then looked at you, “you okay?”

You nodded as Steve glared between the two of you and cautiously got to his feet, “so you brought your little boyfriend?”

“She’s here to get her stuff. We thought we’d avoid a police escort, as her lawyer I thought it prudent, but we can always make that phone call,” Sasha said sternly, “she is entitled to her possessions.”

“Her stuff? I paid for every single thing she has to her name. Hers? Mine.” Steve spat and reared on you again, only to be caught by Sasha as he inserted himself between you.

“You will not touch her again. Those things you bought for her were gifts. You have no legal rights to them once they are given. She will take her clothes, her phone, and any other necessities.”

“Pfft, she’s not taking anything. She’s not going anywhere,” Steve growled, “she not yours--”

“I am certain the photogs would appreciate a show,” Sasha pulled out his phone, “police? That can only be a domestic dispute.”

Steve squinted and his nose flared as he looked at you over Sasha’s shoulder, “fucking slut.” He crossed his arms and stepped aside, “get your shit, get out…” he hissed, “but I have my rights too. You will not keep me from my baby.”

“That will be settled in court,” Sasha replied coolly, “go on, get your things.”

He waved you past him as he kept you shield from Steve. He was of a height with Steve but not as broad. Even so, you felt safe behind him. You rushed down to the bedroom and quickly gathered up your toiletries and those clothes you didn’t absolutely hate. Your phone screen was shattered but you took it anyway.

As you emerged again, a bag slung on your shoulder, you slid the ring from your finger. 

“You can keep the rest,” you said as you placed the band on the small round table just inside the front room, “goodbye Steve.”

“Goodbye? Goodbye?” he spat, “this isn’t the end and you fucking know it.”

“Calm down,” Sasha warned.

“You don’t tell me what to do,” Steve shoved him, “I should fucking smash your head in--”

“I’d like you to try,” Sasha stood his ground, “really. You think the court would let a violent man be around an infant?”

Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes. He backed down and shouldered by Sasha. “Get the fuck out.”

You left quickly. You had no desire to hang around. As you stepped onto the elevator, Sasha softly touched your elbow and you winced. The bag fell to your elbow and he quickly scooped it up and heaved it over his own shoulder.

“You okay?” he asked.

“No, I don’t think so,” you said, “he was so angry. I--”

“I was stupid, we should’ve brought the police. Fuck the cameras,” he said, “from this point on, no contact with him whatsoever. Only through me and the court. No talking to reporters, no nothing.”

“Yeah, that won’t be hard,” you uttered as he led you out of the elevator. 

As you came outside, cameras flashed and voices called out. You collided with Sasha as he was blocked by a photographer shouting questions, “is it true you’re pregnant? Is it Steve’s?”

“My client will not be answering questions,” Sasha kept on and made a path for you, “go, she’s not answering any of your questions.”

He elbowed past more cameras and opened the car door for you. You fell inside and quickly huddled down in your seat. As he sat behind the wheel, he mumbled and pulled out into traffic. He gripped the wheel tightly and pushed himself back into the vinyl.

“That asshole,” he said, “he’s gonna want the paternity test. This isn’t gonna be pretty.”

“I can’t… he fucking told them. I mean, I’m not surprised but… god,” you grimaced.

“We’ll get the test done before he makes a formal request,” Sasha said, “it shows transparency and when we hand over those results, we’ll include those police reports too.”

“Police reports?” you blinked.

“Sorry, I… It’s a suggestion,” he said tersely, “but he’s going to make this a trial by media.”

“No, no, I want to,” you said firmly, “I want everyone to know the real Steve Rogers.”

🍭

‘I was just like many struggling in the city. I worked a low-paying job in data entry and lived in an apartment which was little more than a box. The dreams of the big city were passing me by as there was little opportunity to be found.

Then I met Steve Rogers. Like a dream or a Lifetime movie. I was in debt, I was desperate, and he offered me a safety net. I can own my part in the relationship; I was interested and I accepted his generosity. I was all too happy with the arrangement.

That was until I found out that it was all based on a lie. I didn’t know that he had access to my accounts even before I knew him, that he had used his connections to force me into that dire situation. And I could not know the real man behind the billionaire façade.

It was little things at first. Any woman loves to feel wanted but his possessiveness soon turned to control. He kept me isolated from my own family and did not permit me to do anything without his permission. His affection turned to obsession and when it was not reciprocated he forced it from me.

He took me on vacation and did not allow me to wear clothes. He chose what I wore, how I looked, and what I did. He coerced me into acts I was reluctant about, and when he was too rough, he did not listen to my pleas for him to stop.

When I tried to leave him, he followed me and dragged me back. He had me watched by PIs and surveilled all my communications. He used his financial power to control me and when that did not work, he used his physical power.

Steve Rogers abused me. He yelled in my face, he threatened my family, and he choked me.

Steve Rogers raped me. He expected me to bend to his will whenever he desired and when I refused, he held me down and did what he wanted.

Steve Rogers took my whole life and when I chose to leave, he set his eyes on the life inside of me. 

The only thing I want from him is freedom. I want to live safely with my child and I want that child to never experience the abuse of their father. I never want anyone to know that horror again which is why I have written this and released the police records. I am not asking for anything but peace for me and my unborn child.’

The statement was carefully edited by Sasha. You reread the font across the glossy pages of Vanity Fair, the article spliced with excerpts not only from the police reports, but your own emailed accounts of your relationship, and the whole thing began with an image of that broken bathroom door.

It was two months since you ran away from the altar but life was not a romcom. It was a disaster. Even with the article, you knew not all would believe you. You knew it would open you to doubt and vitriol. And you knew Steve would have a response.

You closed the magazine and groaned as you rubbed your hips. Freedom didn’t feel so… freeing. There was a long way to go; court dates, doctor’s appointment, and depositions. But it was a start.

You rested your hand on your stomach and pushed on the arm of the couch as you stood stiffly. When you were halfway up, you felt a hand on your elbow and Sasha helped you stand straight. You smiled guiltily. You’d grown a lot in the last few weeks and still had nearly four months to go.

“The reviews are good,” he said, “I know that is kinda grim but… people seem to believe you.”

“Seem to?” you echoed as you went to the kitchen and pulled out the container of sliced strawberries, “or they don’t?”

“Well,” he leaned on the counter as he watched you add too much cream to the berries and smiled, “Stark Industries has cut ties with Shield, Inc. and Tony has made a sizeable donation to several shelters across the city,” he cupped his chin coyly as he leaned on his elbow, “and will be covering legal costs for the support hearings seeing as I can’t legally represent you anymore.”

“Oh,” your mouth fell open before you could spray some cream onto your tongue, “when were you going to tell me this?”

“I’m telling you now,” he crossed his arms as he shifted them further over the island, “I thought I’d give the good news first.”

“And the bad?” you put down the can of cream as you neared the marble across from him.

“I have several requests for interviews and I think you should do at least one,” he said, “I know you hate reporters and all that but… with a little Rogers baby on board, it’s just another part of the process.”

“Oh, and what should I tell them,” you edged around the counter towards him, “that I moved? That I found someone better?” He turned to you, his lips curved as he leaned in and you turned your face up to peck his lips, “or maybe I should tell them I’m single? Keep the intrigue?”

“As long as you tell them I’m handsome, I don’t mind,” he purred as he placed his hand on your side.

“Oh, how could I leave that out?” you cooed and kissed him again, “patient, loving, kind… but what a geek?”

“A geek?” he smirked and framed your chin with his hands, “says the dungeon master.”

You giggled and ran your hands up his chest, “someone’s gotta raise this little bard well.”

“Oh, no, no, she’s not gonna be a bard. Maybe a cleric?”

“No way! That’s lame,” you chirped, “how about… a sorcerer? Ours is a bit lacking.”

“Excuse you,” he quipped, “what was your AC again? Maybe next session I’ll run out of healing spells.”

“See?” you taunted, “geek.”

You drew him to you until he was pressed to your belly and he swept you up in a kiss. You rocked with him as he turned you against the counter and slowly parted.

You squeezed his wrist as you went back around to your strawberries and cream. You took a spoon and scooped up a mouthful as you slid your phone towards you. Sasha stayed as he was, watching you scroll through the emails and piled up texts.

You stopped as one blared in all caps. There was no name, only ‘Private’. You opened the conversation and found a dozen bubbles; ‘THIS ISN’T OVER’, ‘HE CAN’T KEEP YOUR FROM ME’, ‘CUTE, YOU THINK PEOPLE BELIEVE YOUR SHIT.’ Another message blipped up, an image and you dropped your spoon as it opened.

You saw the picture of your sister and her son. You shook as you put your hand down on the counter and choked on the cream.

“What?” Sasha reached over and turned your phone to him, “Shit,” he sighed and blocked the number, “he’s just stacking the evidence against himself.”

“I--” you blinked as tears boiled behind your eyes.

“You don’t need to be afraid,” he screencapped the conversation, “this just makes the case even easier.”

“No, I will always be afraid of him,” you said as you touched your stomach, “it’s not just about me anymore.”

“And it’s not just you anymore,” he took your hand and rubbed the back of it with his thumb, “we’ve been through worse. If we can get through a cave full of orcs, we can defeat Steve Rogers.”

END (or is it?)

[agapaic]

[19 days] whiplash [ch. 365 after-shot]

The shop will be closing soon. He’s seen an attendant wandering around, who will probably ask him to leave in the next five minutes. There’s no one else here. His clothes are vivid against the neon glow of the tanks. The fish cast strange shadows on his shirt, living out a second life on his skin.

They swim in half-circles before sharply changing direction, never touching the glass. He wonders if they know it’s there, as if they can sense some immovable wall that holds them back.

He’s not getting deep about this. He could contemplate, quite extensively, about how their freedom must be bought by some higher power, and they would really only go from one tank to the next, slightly bigger, slightly richer. It’s all fake shit, and he remembers that in some ways he’s got it better than an animal. He can, at least, run away. Maybe he won’t get far. Just to the edges of the city villages where he’ll get a job earning less than before and lose his place in school.

Guan Shan puts a finger on the glass in front of him. There’s a label in the corner, peeling away from the glass. Veiltail goldfish. They have wispy, membrane-like tails. He could put his hand on the other side and see all the way through. Guan Shan watches the only black fish in the tank move placidly through the water.

Beneath the label, a smaller one: Black moor. For a minute he considers tugging the label off and putting it in his pocket, a little secret. He remembers that would be stealing, in some way, and someone in the shop would have to go to the effort of printing and laminating and reapplying the label just for one fish.

Guan Shan turns away.

He wanders for a few more minutes. He’s aware of his reflection in the glass. He worries about how long the attendant will let him stay there, and the thought that they will make him leave makes him feel slightly sick. He likes it here—the quiet, the muted hum of the tanks, the strange lights. They make him feel somewhere else.

His mother is working the night shift and won’t be home until just before he’s meant to go to school the next morning. They’ll have long enough together that he could tell her he got fired from the shop, but not long enough that he could reasonably pretend to have forgotten as he tugs on his uniform and slips out the front door.

She won’t be mad—she never is.

She can’t take on another shift.

Mentally, he has started taking stock. His Xbox is a few years old, but he’ll get something for it. He has a stack of old music magazines from his dad that could catch the eye of a collector. His computer, maybe.

The earrings.

His stomach twists.

Really, it’s not much. It’ll earn them a month, which could be just long enough for him to get another job, but what’s the likelihood of that in a city where most kids are just trying to bulk their CV’s for their college applications. Besides, his grades speak for themselves. He got lucky with the shop, and lightning doesn’t strike twice.

‘Hey, kid. We’re closing soon, so unless you wanna buy something…’

Guan Shan nods. His shoulders round.

For no logical reason, he says: ‘Can I take a goldfish?’

‘Sure. The black moor? Saw you had your eye on that one.’

‘No, one of the others.’

The attendant comes up next to him. ‘Just the one? They don’t like being on their own, you know.’

He presses his jaw tightly. A small sound comes out of him. He looks at the price tag and is somehow shocked and saddened to see the figure so low.

‘Fine,’ he says. ‘The black one, too, I guess.’

He pays, then leaves. It’s late enough that the streets are quieter than he expected. He’s usually home by now, his shift over, reheating leftovers while he works on his homework. He stands there while the shop attendant locks up behind him, holding the plastic bag with two fish in his hand. He feels stupid. Behind his eyes, he can feel a sort of stinging sensation.

He has the unnameable urge to grab one of the passing strangers and tell them how he’s feeling, what has happened, what could happen. On some level he knows that everyone has their own problems, and he’s not the type of person to overstep his bounds. Instead, he watches them pass, and after a few more minutes he goes to the nearest subway station and gets the train home.

/

He had half expected He Tian to find him on the street. He’d imagined it, He Tian catching his arm as he wandered from store to store, deliberating at large windows with thin mannequins and expensive jewellery without price tags. There is a part of him that’s disappointed that it didn’t play out like this, a part of him that is even angrier to find He Tian sitting in the stairwell of his apartment when he eventually does get home.

It’s close to midnight, and the stairwell is clinically quiet. Outside, the stars are dusty and covered in a thin layer of smog that is less noticeable in the day. He Tian looks exhausted. He’s the type of good looking where even the slightest imperfection somehow makes him even more attractive. Guan Shan hates it.

He stands when Guan Shan walks in, suddenly filling the space, and Guan Shan says, ‘Get outta my way.’

‘Where have you been?’

Guan Shan shoulders past him. There’s a moment where he thinks He Tian will grab him around the shoulders, the air around him simmering enough that Guan Shan is convinced it’s a near thing, choking with danger, but he lets him pass. He follows Guan Shan up the staircase, his footsteps silent, his body casting long shadows on the steps where Guan Shan sets his feet.

At the door, Guan Shan pockets the notice that’s taped there, knowing He Tian has already seen it. Less sharply, he picks up the notes in He Tian’s and Jian Yi’s writing and folds them into careful squares.

‘You’re not comin’ in,’ he says.

‘I called you, like, fifty times. Did you block me?’

Guan Shan thinks He Tian sounds angrier than he really has a right to be. He turns and presses his back to the door. He has his keys clenched tightly in a closed fist.

‘Yeah. I didn’t want to talk to you. I thought you would’ve gotten that.’

‘I can get you another job. Something better paid.’

‘You’re so fuckin’ clueless.’

He Tian’s eyes tighten.

‘You’re ruining my life,’ says Guan Shan.

‘That’s—that isn’t true. I’ve helped you. You would’ve been expelled if—’

‘Maybe I would’ve gotten expelled. But I wouldn’t have had She Li on my dick all the time, would I? Wouldn’t need you to get me a job ‘cause you made me lose my last one, would I? You’re just—stickin’ a bandage on shit when you hurt me first.’

‘It’s not always like that. Don’t make it sound like it’s always like that.’

Guan Shan shakes his head. ‘I want you to go. I told you I didn’t want to see you again. Fuck off.’

He Tian says, ‘Let me pay what was on the door.’

‘Fuck off.’

He Tian doesn’t move and Guan Shan squeezes his eyes shut. He’s going to cry again, the frustration bubbling sourly in the back of his throat. He doesn’t trust himself to open the door while He Tian is still here because he knows he’ll probably let him in.

‘Do I really make you feel like a failure?’

Guan Shan rubs at his eyes with his fist. His voice comes hoarse and thick: ‘I am a failure. Bein’ around you just makes it so much more fuckin’ obvious.’

He doesn’t want He Tian’s pity when he says this, or his reassurance. He’s just being honest. Saying it out loud is kind of breathlessly relieving. He couldn’t say something like that to his mother, or any of the teachers at school. He couldn’t say it to Grey, who he’s known for years. He Tian knows more about him than anyone. It’s a terrifying thought.

If they never see each other again, will He Tian tell everyone the things Guan Shan has told him? About the restaurant and his dad, or about She Li and the things Guan Shan has let him do to him? He feels vulnerable and sick thinking about it, completely powerless, as he does a lot of the time when he’s around He Tian.

He oscillates between that feeling of uselessness and the feeling of being so empowered that he thinks it must be what being high or drunk feels like. That latter has him trusting his own convictions, having an unadulterated faith in himself like jumping from a bridge and thinking he might just fly—so long as He Tian is with him. He doesn’t like how it’s one or the other, empowered or powerless, and rarely anything in between. He’s heard adults on TV talking about being codependent, pulled punishingly into each other's orbit, and he wonders if this is the same thing.

In the end he supposes it doesn’t really matter. So what if He Tian tells everyone? Probably, he won’t see the rest of the year out at school. He’ll get a job on a different side of the city and no one will hear from him ever again. The embarrassment will all be internal and will only last a week or two. Then life will move on. He wishes he were older and wiser and better at believing this. He wishes it didn’t feel like the universe might fall out from beneath him.

‘Doesn’t matter what I do, it turns to shit,’ he tells He Tian. ‘No matter how hard I work, I’m never gonna earn enough. I can spend three hours studyin’ for a test and still come last. If it isn’t She Li, then it’ll be someone else. I just—I can’t catch a fuckin’ break, He Tian. But you do somethin’ and you come first every time. Life’s so easy for you.’

He Tian shifts from side to side. ‘Do you think things wouldn’t feel so hard if you stopped focussing on what you think my life is like?’

‘You’re pissin’ me off.’

‘I don’t know how I’m meant to help you. You won’t let me give you money. It’s like pulling teeth from you just trying to know what’s going on with you. What are you so fucking afraid of?’

‘I never asked for your help.’

‘You shouldn’t have to—that’s why we’re friends.’

‘I never said I wanted to be your friend.’

He Tian frowns, his look very serious. He isn’t teasing tonight. Neither is Guan Shan. There is the sense that their interactions are always anything but teasing, really, some dark undercurrent that runs between the two of them like dark veins.

He Tian says, ‘Are those fish?’

For a moment Guan Shan thinks he’s joking, deflecting wildly to distract from the seriousness of what Guan Shan has just said. Then he feels the crinkle of a plastic bag in his hand and, remembering how he’d just spent the last few hours, nearly drops the two goldfish onto the floor.

‘Yeah,’ he says.

‘You don’t have a tank.’

‘Yeah, no. I don’t know why I bought them.’

He Tian hesitates. There is a curious, predictable gleam in his eyes. ‘Red and black?’

‘It’s all they had left at the store.’

He Tian is looking intently at the bag. ‘Do you remember when we went to the aquarium? And you said I wasn’t someone you could forget?’

‘I just meant that—’

‘I know what you meant. But I always pretend like you meant it the other way.’

Guan Shan thinks, Don’t you think things would be easier if you stopped focusing on what you want me to mean and what I actually mean?

Instead of saying anything, he looks down at his sneakers. They’re scuffed and starting to rip at the seams. The thought of having to buy new ones makes him panic and the thought of buying a pair of second-hand ones online makes him panic even more. There’s no shame in it, but the thought of wearing someone else’s clothes makes him feel strange, especially when he knows He Tian could buy fifty pairs without blinking.

Guan Shan considers that thought and replays what He Tian has just said about focusing on his life too much more than his own. Maybe part of that is true.

Before He Tian, did he always feel things so intensely? Did the bad always feel so fucking awful? He knows that things were mechanical, and he was mean and didn’t think much about other people in particularly nice ways. He knows he didn’t laugh much then, or have dinners and sleepovers with friends. He knows everything hurt on a distant, muted level that was easy to ignore. Not much time has passed since then, and he reasons that nothing about him has probably changed, just everything else around him.

‘I can’t understand why you won’t let me help you,’ says He Tian, when the silence has stretched too long.

‘Because I’ll get used to it.’

He Tian frowns, not understanding.

‘One day, you’re not gonna be around. And I’ll be fucked.’

‘I’ll always be there for you.’

‘You don’t know that. People say that a lot and then they disappear or get taken away, even if they didn’t want to.’

It’s obvious they’re talking about his dad, but it feels safer to talk about things in vague, subjective conversation. Maybe things would be easier if they talked openly about things and didn’t use metaphors and hypotheticals. As it is, Guan Shan doesn’t feel ready to try the alternative. He is conscious of the fact that this feels like a conversation. They are passing words back and forth that hold meaning and neither of them has touched the other yet. It feels new and fragile as an oil painting, still wet, and so he doesn’t let himself think about this for long.

‘I think you’re getting this wrong,’ says He Tian. ‘I’m not asking you to rely on me. Obviously, I’d kind of like that. I like the thought of you needing me, and I know that says something about me. But—I’m just asking you to let me help you. Just here and there, no strings.’

Guan Shan rubs his forehead with the back of his knuckles. His keys are starting to pinch his skin and he can feel a headache starting to surface.

‘I’m tired,’ he says. ‘I actually do want you to go.’

He Tian’s jaw clenches and he breathes out heavily through his nose. He’s probably thinking he’s wasted his time.

‘Okay,’ he says then. ‘But we’re not done.’

A new wave of exhaustion comes over Guan Shan, crippling and final. He wants to get into bed with his skin against cold sheets and sleep for twelve hours without waking once.

‘You’re not the only one that ever gets to decide that,’ he tells He Tian, a little sharply. ‘You’ve gotta learn to let people go.’

‘But what if I know I can help them?’ says He Tian. ‘If I don’t, I’ve just—failed.’

They look at each other.

A minute stretches into an eternity that could be seconds or hours, and everything has gone backwards. Everything is the same.

Guan Shan can’t put his finger on what has just happened, but he feels like laughing. Their fears are twinned, self-perpetuating, some kind of ouroboros chasing its tail. Who will get caught first?

They both seem to take in a breath at the same time, and He Tian takes a step back.

‘Goodnight,’ he says.

Guan Shan nods. He waits for He Tian’s retreating back to disappear a few flights down before opening the door to his apartment, and shuts it swiftly behind him.

/

There’s a knock at the door while he’s brushing his teeth. The fish are swimming placidly in their bag on the edge of the bathroom sink. It’s past one, and he keeps all the lights off because his eyes are feeling sore. He’s adjusted to the dim glow that comes from street lamps seeping through the curtains, the blink of the timer on the electric stove, his Xbox gleaming in his bedroom. His mother shouldn’t be home yet and she has her own set of keys.

With a sinking heart, Guan Shan pictures his landlord demanding payment.

Worse, he pictures He Tian. Before He Tian left, they’d resolved nothing. It feels like being back to square one, chasing each other around a chess board. It fills him with a vast emptiness that makes him feel like he’s existing outside of himself, waiting for someone else to take over.

He pads silently towards the front door, his toothbrush jammed into his cheek, and peers through the viewer. There’s toothpaste dripping down his chin. In the hall, there’s no one there. He’s half-convinced he imagined it. He counts to ten before he opens the door, steps out—and his foot connects with something hard. There is a cardboard box sitting on the welcome mat.

Guan Shan peers around. The light in the stairwell is artificially bright. He kneels down and opens the tabs on the box, which hasn’t been taped. He swallows.

For the fish, says the note on the second box, nestled inside the first. Careful, it’s fragile.

Guan Shan rubs the heel of a palm into his right eye. He sighs. Then he reaches out, braces himself, and picks up the tank. He carries it into his apartment, and the door locks behind him.

/

thank you for reading! if you’d like to support me on my ko-fi/request a short drabble, you can do so here: https://ko-fi.com/agapaic 💞

[weeb-writor]

Bakugou Meets his Future Kids

Hiya! Long time no see! So I’ve been gone a while and today I was actually supposed to post the last part in the Aizawa mini series. That wont happen today because unfortunately even though me and my whole family have been super safe and only go to work and home I did test positive for Covid-19. I'm okay though just really drained and this was easier for me to finish. I'm hoping to have the Christmas fic up by the 28th at the latest, so sorry about that! For now I hope you can enjoy this! The kids do call reader mommy but there is no assigned gender! Anyone, any gender can be a mom!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

He meets his kids from the future in a troubling way

Words: 1896

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was supposed to be a normal day and it was for about 10 seconds. About 11 seconds in Bakugou had somehow been wrapped into a trip to the mall with most of the class. Bakugou prided himself on being a strong immovable boulder but when you asked could he come… lets say he had a temporary weakness. Now here he was at the food court as you all argued over what to eat.

“Is there a place that sells soba?” Todoroki asked.

“Even if there is, we aren't eating there! You always eat that!” Mina said, pointing at the boy who looked back a little deflated.

“I think we’ll be okay getting soba, his obsession with soba is super cute!” you said with a small laugh. This had Bakugou craning his neck. Only ever eating one thing was not cute, how could you think that!

“Like hell we are, Come on Y/n were getting a burger.” Bakugou said standing and pulling you away you didn't get far before you all heard someone crying and yelling. You and the rest of the class looked at each other once before you dashed in the direction of the cries. Arriving on the scene you see 3 kids surrounding a boy who was crying while one was holding back a girl who seemed to be crying in anger. 

“Hey what the hell is going on here?” Kirishima said in a scolding tone. The kids turn around and pale probably recognizing the group of soon to be Pro-Heroes.

“Nothing we should be going, later losers.” The kids said quickly scattering into the crowds at the mall. The girl quickly ran to the boy's side still crying.

“It's alright, you don't have to cry, I have a first aid kit if that helps.” You said trying to console the kids. At your voice both of the kids looked up at you before tackling you in a crushing hug, sobbing even more. You looked up at your class confused; they only shrugged at you.

“Mommy! I'm sorry, I took Hiroyuki from school and we followed you and then we got hit with that big scary guy's quirk and then we ended up here and we been here for like 2 days. I'm sorry!!” The girl cried, rubbing her eyes furiously.

“Uh um sweetheart, I'm sorry you got lost but my teachers will help you. We’ll find your parents I promise.” You said rubbing her checks.

“But you're our mommy.” The young girl sniffled.

“I'm not, you must be confused. I'm L/n.” You said, smiling at them as they seemed to tear up.

“That's not funny mommy, stop joking right now.” The girl said, shaking her head, more tears spilling from her eyes.

“Sorry kid they aren't joking, L/n doesn't have any kids.” Denki said, crouching to meet her eyes.

“Are you mad cause we didn't listen? Are you gonna send us away?” The girl said, beginning to cry even more.

“Stop making my sister cry!!” The boy said with tears in his eyes, the tears were short lived as explosion went off all around them. Everyone looked at Bakugou who was quietly watching

“It's not me, it's one of them.” He said with his teeth gritted. The class didn't have time to figure it out as the explosion stopped and they saw their teacher next to them.

“It’s always something with you guys. Hey kids I'm gonna need you to come with me so we can sort this out.” He said offering his hands to them which they didn't hesitate to take. The walk back to the school was relatively short and quiet. Now they were all sitting outside of recovery girls office waiting on some kind of news.

“I think i know what's happened. They kept calling you mom, right?” You nodded at her with a small smile.

“Well while I was trying to heal them I asked them some questions to make sure their heads were on straight. Their answers were very much incorrect to us but also not completely insane. For Example Dynamight, Deku, and Shoto are all top 10 heroes. The league of villains are no more and I'm dead. I examined their bodies and it seems they were hit with a time travel quirk from the looks of it. Not sure when it will wear off but my best recommendation is for them to remain under L/n and Easerheads care, I will check for any signs of it wearing off, every other day.”

“Huh? Is Easerhead their dad! Do you and L/n get married in the future?! That's kind of kinky…” Mineta said with a gross smile

“No, you creepy child. It seems they do like him though.” Recovery girl said with a sigh. You thanked her and went into the room.

“Hey, did recovery girl explain what happened to you guys?” You said as you approached them.

“Uh huh she said we went in the past to where you and papa were students. Like in the pictures on the walls.” The girl said.

“Mhm very good, so can you tell me your names? Then we can go hang out with my friends and eat something!” You said with a smile.

“Hiroyuki…” the boy mumbled.

“I’m Kaori!” The young girl cheered at you. You thanked them and guided you out the door and found your friends and teacher waiting. You led them to the dorm lunge where food was waiting on them.

“So which one of you have an explosion quirk?” Kirishima said as the kids were eating.

“We both do, kind of.” The girl said absentmindedly. “Mom says I make explosions from the heat of the food I eat, I like spicy stuff.” She said with a smile.

“Oh okay cool! But no spicy stuff for you.” Denki laughed at the girl who wasn't exactly happy.

“What about you, little guy?” Sero asked the younger one. The little boy looked at Sero before burying his face in his hands and shaking his head.

“Yuki, has a really cool quirk! Mom says he works like a gas stove! He leaks this stuff that's like propane! Then he can ignite it based on how he is feeling! Angry or emotional means bigger explosions! It comes from his pores or his hand.” The girl chimed in for her brother. He was upset at her words and ran to Aizawa.

“Sorry, we didn't mean to make you uncomfortable!” Mina said as she couched to the level of the boy who further hid his face into Aizawa legs.

“It's okay, kid, Bakugou has an explosive quirk, it's cool!” Denki said with his flashy smile.

“We don't care about that old man's quirk!” The girl said fresh tears on his face.

“What’d you say you little brat?! I’m not an old man!” Bakugou roared back to Kaori.

“You are a mean old man and I hate you! Its all your fault I'm stuck here without my real mom and papa! I hate you! I hate you so much Papa!” The little girl roared back before running back to you crying.

“Papa?” Kirishima echoed quietly.

“Kaori, you shouldn't yell at people or tell them you hate them it's a mean and strong word.” You said crouching down to her level and stroking her cheek.

“B-but it's all his fault. He said me and Hiroyuki were weak and and we couldn't do much because we're kids and it's best for us to stay out of Hero’s way! Like were burdens!” She said growing further agitated.

“And I was right, you followed your mom and you both got hurt when you shouldn't have been near the battle anyway.” He said with a frown.

“But that doesn't mean we are useless and can't do anything by ourselves! WE ARENT DUMB!” She yelled back at him.

“Future me didn't say you were dumb, he, I just want you to be safe. It's best for you and your brother to stay out of the way for now. However, that doesn't mean your a burden or dumb.” Bakugou said seriously. The little girl didn't say anything further and just threw herself into her your arms. Hiroyuki came from in between Aizawa’s legs and also threw himself at you.

“Okay enough mingling for today I guess, time for bed! I’ll be right back guys.” You said as you carried both kids off to your dorms with surprising grace. Once you were gone the group turned to Bakugou.

“Papa, huh Bakugou?!” Denki said with a chuckle.

“It's too surprising! I didn't even know you had a crush on L/N!” Mina said with a pout.

“Really? it was pretty obvious Bakubro had a crush though. Literal tiny explosions go whenever L/n is near.” Kirishima said with a cute head tilt.

“The hell they do.” Bakugou said angrily.

“No they do, I’ve had to stop them a few times now.” Aizawa said with his weird grin.

“I can't believe it though, they are so cute! Kaori is so much like you and I cant believe Hiroyuki’s quirk is so kickass!” Sero said rubbing the back of there necks.

“Well of course they got kickass quirks. With me and L/N as parents there’s no way they wouldn't!” Bakugou said flushed red.

“I'm just glad you cleared up everything with them. It would be pretty bad if they went back mad at the future you, or thinking something damaging like that.” Deku said with a sigh. Finally you were back with no kids, at least it looked like you didn’t have kids.

“So this parenting shit is pretty hard!!” You said as two figures came from behind your legs. They blushed before pointing to Bakugou and then back at your dorm.

“Use your words.” Bakugou said, cocking an eyebrow at the flustered kids.

“Story, Papa.” Hiroyuki slurred out.

“I'm sorry for saying I hate you… I didn't mean it.” The young girl said softly

“You better be, that's a strong word. Now let's go to bed.” Bakugou said nonchalantly as he picked up both kids and walked back to your dorm. The kids remained with you two for about a week and half. You learned lots like you and Bakugou have twins on the way and still want at least one more. Hiroyuki loves Aizawa because he is able to keep his quirk under control around him and they both have an addiction to cats. Bakugou is indeed amazing at everything except anger management. When they left it was during one of your cuddle sessions and boy did you cry like a baby.

BONUS:

“It’s been almost 2 weeks, where could they be?? What if they’re…” You said into Bakugou's chest.

“They’re fine, okay? Our brats are tough so wherever they ended up in time doesn't matter they’ll kick anyone's ass.” Bakugou said, trying to console you. You didn't get a chance to respond before you dogs went crazy at the knock at the door. You yelled for however it was to come in and you thought your mind was playing tricks on you.

“Don't worry they are just drowsy.” Aizawa said with the two kids in his capture weapon trailing behind him. Bakugou was the first to move and was on his knees, in tears in seconds.

“You idiots! Never, ever do that again.” He said hugging him like his life depended on it.

[once-upon-a-oneshot]

Friends with Benefits

Summary: You and Calum are friends with benefits, but what happens when one of you starts to want something more

Genre: Frat!Calum

Warnings: swearing, sexual themes

Word Count: ~900

“Same time tomorrow?” Calum asks as you clumsily climb out of his bed and search around the room for the panties you arrived in.

“Um,” As you reach under the bed, you feel the silk material in a crumbled heap. You pull it out only to realize that these are not the panties you wore here. In fact, they aren’t even yours. “I actually have plans.” You continued, throwing the panties away from you and wiping your hand on your still bare thigh.

“Plans?” Calum’s tone is doubtful, almost even mocking. But you’re too busy scowering the room for your panties to notice.

“Yep.” Deciding to abandon your search for your undergarments, you grab your pants off the foot of the bed and shimmy them on. “So, looks like you’re going old school tomorrow. Just you, yourself, and Miss Righty.” 

The way you grin to yourself as you pull your shirt over your head annoys him. He hates for any one, especially just some girl he hooks up with, to feel that they’ve got anything over him.

“Bold of you to assume you’re the only girl I call when I need to get off.” He pushes, raising an eyebrow at you. Uninterestedly you roll your eyes at him.

“Not only,” you smirk to yourself, “but best.” He’s trying to best you, but you’re not like all the other insecure girls he messes around with. You know what you’ve got, and you know what it’s worth.

“Again,” it was Calum’s turn to smirk at you. “Bold assumption”. Your only response it to roll your eyes as you bend over to pull on your shoes.

“I mean, for the past three weeks you’ve called me, what,” You turn your eyes towards the ceiling and scrunch your face pretending to think. For added measure you use one finger to solve an imaginary equation in the air. “Oh that’s right, every night.”

You won’t back down. But Calum won’t either.

“Yea, and who do you think I’ve called every morning?” Calum smirks triumphantly. You say nothing as you grab your purse and head for the door.

“Good, then call one of them.” You say it and mean it. Just like it was for Calum, to you this arrangement was simply a business transaction. A mutual exchange of sexual favors. Nothing more. 

“See ya.” You call over your shoulder as you finally walk out of the room. Leaving Calum naked and alone in his bed.

*****CALUM’S POV*****

Friday night. Exactly 22 hours since I last got off. I’m not OCD or anything. It’s just that over the years I’ve found that keeping a strict “booty-call” schedule made it easier to keep track of my endeavors. Not to mention it prevents the always awkward “two booty-calls running into each other” situation. If you’ve never experienced one chick leaving your room half naked, while another chick is walking in ready to smash, trust me – you don’t want to go there. However, it did make for some pretty hot hate-sex.

Not that the schedule really mattered much lately. There was really only one time to account for. (Y/N)’s time. Every night for the past couple weeks. 10 o’clock on the dot is her call time. Usually she won’t get here until about midnight, but that works out perfectly for me. The later it is the less likely she’ll be to try and hang out, or some shit, afterwards.

Throwing the weight of my body on the bed, I pull my phone out of my tight jean pocket and call her.

It’s not until she doesn’t answer that I remember about the bullshit “plans” she told me she had.  Whether they are real or not, they’ll just have to wait. Because right now, I need her. Well, my dick does anyway.

I call again. This time the phone rings twice and then goes straight to voicemail.

She sent me to voicemail.

This is probably all just some elaborate scheme to make me think she actually has better things to do than fuck me.

Two can play at that game

I toss my phone on the bed and head towards the bathroom. The sound of my phone vibrating on the bed makes me stop in my tracks. I smile to myself and eagerly make a move for the phone.

Eagerly? Why are you eager?

I blame it on my being horny. I can’t help the way my face falls with disappointment when it’s my friends contact name on my screen instead of hers.

Disappointment?

I must be really, really, horny.

“What?” I bark annoyed. It’s not actually him I’m bothered by, but he’s the one who’s available.

“Dude, where are you?” he’s yelling into the phone, and I can hear loud music blaring in the background.

“My room?” I don’t know what he wants, but if he doesn’t tell me soon this conversation is going to end.

“Oh, I figured you were at that Phi Delta party?”

“Well, I just told you I’m in my room.” I snap. “Why the hell would I be at some frat party?”

I’m far from the type. All those preppy douchebags. Running around with their gelled-hair, short shorts, and flip flops. What real man wears flip-flops other than to the beach? And even that is pushing it.

“Yea but-” the sound of his voice pulls me back to reality from my internal rant. “Your little fuck-buddy’s here so I figured-”

“Who?” I interrupt.

“Uh, you know that one chick. The one you rated best rack!”

“(Y/N)?!” I don’t know why but knowing that she was ignoring my calls, while she was probably running around with some douchey frat guy irritated me.

“Yea! Yea dude her! She looks-” Before he can even finish his sentence, I hang up the phone and grab my keys. I don’t know why I going to the party or what I’ll do when I get there, but right now all I can think about is (Y/N) laying in bed with a douche in flip-flops.

As I finally pull up in front of the huge trashy house, none of the irritation has left my body. Taking long strides, I make my way in the house and navigate through all the drunk teens determined to find (Y/N). I do a quick scan of the living room, the kitchen, the backyard, but she’s nowhere to be seen. With every room I check off the list, my fears of her being locked in one of those bedrooms upstairs with some guy grows.

Just as I’m about to storm up the stairs and kick in every door, I spot her walking through the front door, with a guy following close behind. The type of guy who looks like he wears flip flops. As I watch her grin from ear to ear, I can feel anger rumbling deep in my stomach. Suddenly the house feels hot. Too hot.

My eyes follow them into the kitchen. I count to 10, and I head towards the kitchen too.

“Wooow, hey.” I fake shocked to be running into (Y/N) here.

“Calum.” Her statement sounds more like a question as her eyes go wide.

“Plans huh?” My eyes shift to the tool standing too close to her. I mean come on its burning up in here. Definitely, too hot to be standing that close to someone.

“Yea. Uh Corey this is Calum, Calum this is my friend Corey.” Friend? Her friend Corey? And what I’m? Just Calum? What she should’ve said was ‘Douchebag this is the guy who fucks me better than anyone ever has be-‘

“Nice to meet you man.” Douchebag interrupts my perverse thoughts and reaches out to shake my hand. I don’t want to take it. Who knows where those fingers have been.

Hopefully not in her.

I choke on my own thoughts as my breathe gets caught in my throat. I burst into a fit of coughs and (Y/N) and Douchebag just stare at me like I just grew another head. Douchebag pushes his cup towards me and I take it. As I chug down the beer from his cup, I swear I can taste (Y/N)’s pussy on the rim.

His lips better have not gone anywhere near her.

I can’t stop the thoughts going through my head, or the places my fucked-up imagination keeps taking me, but I know it needs to stop.

I finish off Douchebag’s drink and hand the empty cup back to him. I can feel the alcohol immediately. My muscles ease ever so slightly and I’m starting to function like a normal human being again. I need to regain control of this situation.

“So,” I chose to not even address whatever the hell was going on with me a minute ago. “This is the hot date (Y/N) was all giddy about.” I challenge her.

“You told him this was a date?” Douchebag raises an eyebrow and turns his attention to (Y/N) who’s shooting me daggers with her eyes.

“Well I didn’t use those words exactly.” She says through gritted teeth.

“Damn this is embarrassing,” He continues. I smirk to myself and wait for the show to begin. “Because ... I’ve been telling everyone it was.”

Douche, and I can’t stress this enough, bag.

I can’t help but roll my eyes and scoff, which I play off as another cough.

“You Calum, should take care of that cough, and you Corey, follow me to the beer pong table.” I watch as she grabs his hand and pulls him back towards the living room.

I decide to stay in the kitchen and continue adding alcohol to my system. The liquor burns my throat but for the time being it stops the weird thoughts in my head and helps me think more clearly. I mean obviously I’m not jealous or anything because, why the hell would I be. He’s a douche yea, but not because he’s here with the chick I occasionally fuck. And obviously I’m not irritated with her just because she’s here with a douche. It’s just that I needed to get my dick wet and she ignored my call to be here with said douche. Like he’s somehow more important than me getting off.

I stumble back into the living room and find a spot on the couch. Of course from where I’m sitting I have the perfect view of the beer pong table, and therefore the perfect view and Miss Thing and her new boy toy.

I sit watching them as I down beer after beer. My eyes follow (Y/N) intently as she finally walks away from the table towards the kitchen again. Without thinking, my feet are carrying me to the kitchen right behind her.

“Are you like stalking me now Calum?” she spins on her heels noticing me trailing her.

“Fiesty.” I wink at her. She just rolls her eyes and continues over towards the punch bowl to refill her cup. “I just wanted to tell you how good you look tonight.” I lick my lips while allowing my eyes to rake up and down her body, paying particular attention to her breasts.

“Fuck off.” She rolls her eyes at me while shaking her head. She knows this is a game, and she’s fighting hard not to lose.

“Damn,” I place one hand on her neck tilting her head to the side. “You’re sexy when you’re mad.” I make a move to attach my lips to her neck and she lets me. And I know I’ve won. I suck at the sensitive skin and try to push my body closer to hers. “Let me take you upstairs.” I whisper into her neck.

“See I would,” she speaks but doesn’t move away from me. “But, I have a hot date to get back to.” She finally pulls away from me. “I’m just so giddy about it.” She’s mocking me. She smirks as she brushes past me leaving me and my bulge alone in the kitchen.

One hour, and too many shots later I’m still here. At this stupid frat house with these stupid people. I could’ve just gone home, but something keeps me here. I think it’s my obsession with beating (Y/N). Finally proving to her that she should’ve been in my bed with me tonight. Not here with what’s his face. When the first bit of alcohol entered my system, it helped keep my thoughts from running wild. Now that it’s pulsing through my veins as thick as my blood, the thoughts have returned.

I sit on the stairs, watching as (Y/N) grinds her perfect ass against Corbin, or whatever the hell his name was. It makes me sick. He slides his hands down her hips. He could never navigate her body as well as I do – even if she drew him a map. I’m the one that knows all the right places to touch her. I’m the one who knows all the right buttons to push. My name is the name she calls out while I pound into her.

The alcohol is mixing with my lust and my anger and it’s pushing me.

Douchebag spins (Y/N) around and wraps his hands in her hair.

The way that I do.

He tries to lean in and kiss her, but just before his lips meet hers, I’m pushing him off of her. My mind is confused but my fist are determined. I tackle him to the ground and start beating the shit out of him.

“Calum! CALUM GET OFF OF HIM!” (Y/N)’s voice pulls me off of him when no one else has been able to. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I don’t know how to answer her, because truthfully, I don’t know what I’m doing. I stand there glancing around at all the faces of the small crowd that had formed around us.

“He-You-” I was struggling to find a way to blame them for this. She stands there impatiently waiting for me to speak. Her angered expressions triggers something in me. She thinks she can stand here and face off against me. What does she think? She can intimidate me or something?

“You’re the one who should’ve answered my call!” I bite back at her. “Then I wouldn’t have had to come to this stupid ass party in the first place!”

“Calum get over yourself!” Why can’t she just let me win. Why does she have to be so damn stubborn? My body burns with rage and the faces of all these staring people aren’t making things any better.

“What the hell are you all looking at?!” I yell at the nosy ass bystanders. I probably look like a mad man. Wild hair, sweating, with knuckles busted and bleeding. I look scary enough for the crowd to scurry away in all directions turning their attention to something else.

(Y/N), along with the crowd, turns her back on me.

“Don’t,” I grab her arm and spin her back around to face me. “Turn your back on me!”

“Fuck! Off!” She emphasizes each word never letting any of the anger simmer. She jerks her arm away from me and turns her back on me again. I want to say whatever I need to to keep her from walking away from me. And of all the things I could, and probably should say, the best I can do is:

“That guy isn’t right for you!” The words taste foreign on my lips. I’ve never been one to look of for what was “right” for someone. Especially not some girl. The second the words leave my mouth I want to shove them back down my throat.

Now she’ll think she got me.

Now she’ll think she’s won.

“Right for me? Christ Calum it’s a date, not a fucking proposal!” She’s pissed, but at least she stayed. (Y/N) marches up to get in my face. She’s not done with me yet. “And what the hell do you know about right for me?! We fuck on occasion but that doesn’t mean you KNOW ME!”

She turns around and storms off. This time I let her go.

As I watch her walk away from me, I get this feeling. A feeling in the pit of my stomach. A sinking feeling.

Don’t leave me.

The thought scares me. I’ve never wanted someone to stay before, nor did I ever want to want someone to stay. But as the possibility of her staying faded -- leaving me alone -- I realized how desperately I wanted it. How desperately I needed it. Needed her.

This wasn’t a game. It never was. But as she turned her back on me, I couldn’t help but feel like I had just lost.

[sebstanseabass]

Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 1

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Story Description:

❝It's like an afterglow.❞

❝Yes, like an afterglow. If seeing something so beautiful makes you feel good then the after of it all must be... more pleasurable.❞

❝A lot of people tend to miss that detail after sunset. But not you. You're a photographer, y/n. The details in nature, in people, are some things you can never miss.❞

But there's one little detail you had missed, that you both missed: that you've already met years earlier.

You're a 25-year old photographer and part-time bartender, and has heard countless stories about the adventures of your roommate's stepbrother, Bucky Barnes -- a clumsy, party-driven 38-year old businessman. One day, you stumble upon Bucky inside your apartment on a Saturday night that would change both of your lives forever as you both take pleasure in the afterglow.

A/N: I already have this on Wattpad but with a female OC. This is my first ever Bucky Barnes fan fic and I hope you guys like it :)

CHAPTER ONE

"Hey, y/n. I think Nick wants to ask you out on a date." Peter Parker, your roommate, brought his beer bottle towards his mouth. His eyes were fixated somewhere while you were wiping droplets of beer on the countertop. You looked at his face features illuminated by the light from his laptop. "You should really put coasters here, y'know." he added.

"Shut it, Parker," You rolled your eyes at him, "or no more free drinks for you."

"He's into you." He sang and averted his eyes somewhere. You followed his gaze which was on Nick Miller who was talking to some loud blondes on the booth, taking their orders.

"I'm not talking to you anymore." You put your hand up, blocking Peter's face and walked away. You greeted some customers approaching the bar counter. "Good evening, gentlemen, what would you like to drink?"

"Shots of tequila," one replied, "and keep 'em coming, doll!" The other three cheered which you knew annoyed Peter.

The bar was packed tonight. Saturdays were the only days New Yorkers were almost free for a chill drink hangout. College boys hang by the billiards table on the corner, office girls sip their margaritas on one of the booths, thirty-year old women shoot darts on the dartboard as if the board were their husbands, thirty-year old dads with their caps on drinking hard beer on one of the tables, kids who just turned twenty-one ordering their first drink legally, lonely people by the jukebox or on the bar counter telling their sad tales to the bartender and Peter Parker casually drinking beer with a laptop in front of him.

"You really should stop doing your work here on the bar." You approached Peter once more. "You're bumming people out."

Peter raised an eyebrow, his eyes glued on the laptop. "You're bumming me out."

"Seriously, do your business work elsewhere. Go to a coffee place or something. Starbucks isn't that far."

"You know I work better with beer"

"How can I forget?"

You and Peter go way back. You two had met in business school and had been roommates ever since. While you would pull an all-nighter in your shared apartment, Peter would struggle to open the front door, dance around in the living room like he had left feet and threw his final papers on the floor. He'd end up waking up your other roommates, Mickey and Pablo (who would usually join him by the way), leaving poor you cleaning up their mess the next morning. You'd put Peter to bed, seeing as the other morons were incapable of doing so. The next day, Peter's bed would reek of the pungent smell of beer and cigarettes. Though he didn't smoke ("and I never will!"), cigarette smoke disgustingly clung to his clothes and skin, which you found rather unpleasant. Even with all the alcohol in his system, Peter managed to pass all his exams and graduate with flying colors. You hated that.

"I don't get why you drink so much during exam week." You sighed, handing Peter a glass of water. He wasn't an alcoholic but he did turn into one right before midterms and finals start. It was somehow seasonal. According to Peter, it helped him focus. "You're not supposed to drink before a big exam, y'know."

"Hemingway drinks. He writes better when he drinks."

"You're a business major. Not a writer. You don't even read literature."

"Look at you now cleaning other people's messes." Peter chuckled, closing his laptop. You sighed and wiped the counter with much vigor. The four gentlemen from earlier left a pretty big mess toasting shots before they went towards the billiards table.

"Please, this is not the kind of bar you used to go to." You responded, making a gin and tonic. "This is a smoke-free, grope-free, friendly bar. No dancing, no loud stereo music -- just your regular bar where you can relax with your friends after a long day at work."

Peter turned around and tilted his head towards the jukebox. "There's someone dancing right now beside the jukebox."

"Not that kind of dancing." A 20-something year old man was breakdancing to some old beat you've never even heard of.

"Y'know it's really ironic you're working at a bar now. Oh, how you used to hate them."

"It's the only job I can do." You shrugged. "Besides photography, of course. And again, this is not that kind of bar. Think of it like a MacLaren's Pub from that tv show. Kind of funny how it's also just below our apartment building. If only we lived in this building in college, I would've enjoyed bars more."

You once went to one party at a crowded bar where Peter had surprisingly invited you. Writhing bodies pressed up against each other. Body shots from strangers. Toilets that reeked of beer vomit and pee. An "accidental" kiss between you and Peter in the bar that lead into a steamy makeout session as soon as you got in the apartment you both shared. Up to this day, neither of you spoke of that night and perhaps that day wouldn't come -- You really hoped it didn't. Wouldn't want to open a can of worms from the past.

"You're a boring old hag." Peter snorted.

"Hmm, I'd like to disagree. I can make drinks and you can't."

"Oh, you know who can make drinks, though? My stepbrother!"

Ah, yes. His stepbrother. The infamous Bucky Barnes. Born in the upper east side of New York and sadly, out of wedlock. Orphaned at a young age and adopted by a man named Tony Stark who then married Peter's mother. A successful hotel business owner (but not really famous), and the star of Peter's countless stories. Been arrested once for streaking. Got Peter out of detention in high school. Trespassed school premises. TP'd a house during Valentine's Day. Caught naked by a newly-wed in a hotel room. That was just the tip of the iceberg.

"I know. He makes the best bloody drinks of all time." You mimicked Peter the way he would -- insulting and proud -- which he didn't like as he shot dagger-like eyes at you. His expressions changed in a snap.

"Oh, that reminds me. He's in town!"

"I thought he was in Monaco?"

"Yeah, no. He travels a lot."

"Does that mean I now get to meet this famous stepbrother of yours?" You smirked, pulling out shot glasses from one of the cabinets.

"I'm not sure he would want to meet you. You're not exactly in his league."

"You mean snobby and rich?" You laughed while fixing the shot glasses on the counter. "I'm aware."

"I mean classy." He adjusted his tie.

You snickered. "Yeah, all those stories were real classy, Parker. Top-notch."

"You know what I mean, y/n - suits, money, stuff like that. Bucky's changed." One big sip of beer. "I think."

"Ya think?" You scoffed.

"Maybe, I don't know. Haven't spoken to him in a while. He's always traveling and stuff. Hard to keep track of him."

"Sounds to me like he's on a run from the bad guys." You joked which Peter didn't find funny.

"What do you mean?"

Peter idolized Bucky. He was the sole reason why he got into business in the first place -- no, they didn't spend late nights talking in their backyard basketball court about how fulfilling business is and all that crap like brothers would do. Peter just wanted to be like Bucky. To be in the world of money, booze, and then more money. That kind of crap. "It was a joke, Parker. This Bucky sounds like he may have done some stupid stuff but I doubt he's into something illegal or what."

"Yeah, he's a good guy." But even Peter didn't sound convinced of himself. He took a big gulp of his beer.

Nick approached the counter, avoiding your eyes but a smile landed on his lips as soon as he neared you. You could hear Peter chuckling. "Hey, Nick."

Nick acknowledged him by saying a small hello and started preparing a bunch of Bloody Marys for the blonde girls by the booth. Peter watched him, finishing his beer. You gave him a look before walking away to serve some drinks -- which he just mocked in return. With a tray of beer in your right hand, you approached the four gentlemen from before at the billiards table and gave them their drinks. Seeing a couple of girls slide out of one of the booths, you grabbed a washcloth and a bottle spray on the cleaning station and headed to clean the girls' mess. The table reeked of Gin and tonic, Margaritas, Grasshopper, a couple of beers and Long Island Iced Tea. Well, that's a weirdly wild group of friends.

While cleaning up the booth, you glanced up at the printed photographs on the walls which were yours. Black and white portraits of strangers. Flashes of red and blue lights on the streets. Giant buildings. Random people on Central Park and New York streets. Peter drinking beer at the booth with his co-workers. And the owner of the bar who was always cooped up inside his small office. Photos that didn't sell in your exhibit always went to the bar, in hopes that someone might find them somewhat good -- good enough to take home. But that wasn't the case. To them, the photos were just mere decorations at the bar; they just wanted to have a good time and couldn't be bothered to even take one shy glance at the bartender's photos. You wanted to think they just had zero taste when it comes to photography to make yourself feel better but you were wrong. It just made you feel worse.

Just when you were about to turn around, Peter slid into the booth. You almost dropped the things you were holding. "Jesus, Parker."

He looked up at the photos. "Told ya your photos won't sell here."

"That's not what I was thinking." Lie. You walked towards the bar counter with Peter on your tail. He sat once more on the high stool and immensely watched as you placed some glasses on the counter.

"Come work for our company. We could really use your skills for our products." He leaned in, trying to get your attention. It wasn't the first time he tried to convince you to go work for his company.

"For the nth time, I'm no corporate slave."

"You're working at a bar. You make drinks and serve people. Some of these fuckers have corporate jobs as well - like me! If you think about it," he crossed his arms, placing them on top of the counter, "it's kind of like serving these corporations you hate."

With a frown, you asked, "What kind of logic is that?"

"A businessman's logic."

"If that's the case, the corporate world is dead." You smirked, washing the glasses. Peter was no businessman. He was just a part of a sales team, making marketing pitch presentations every week or so. Honestly, you couldn't keep up with his presentations. "I'd be happy to join then."

"Come on, Aria. You can't be juggling two jobs for the rest of your life. You can get one big job at our company and you'll get paid big time. Plus," he leaned in further, almost getting up from the stool, "we'll be working together. Wouldn't that be fun?"

"I'm honestly getting tired of you." You chuckled, sprinkling some water on Peter's face. "And my answer is still no. I don't want to work for your company. I like freelancing and bartending." That wasn't a lie. Despite graduating from business school, you decided to pursue your passion in photography even if the pay couldn't cover your half of the rent. So, you decided to take a waitressing job at the bar just below your apartment, and then started bartending. Out of all the establishments you could've gone to, you chose this very bar because it was the most convenient option of all -- it was just below the apartment. Being a photographer and a part-time bartender weren't exactly the dream you had for yourself but you liked them; nothing gave you more pleasure than taking product photos for small businesses and making drinks for strangers who happen to stumble upon one of the best bars in the Upper West Side.

Peter sighed. "I'm never giving up on you. I'm not a quitter."

"Whatever you say, big guy." Peter had been at it for a few years.

"I hate you." Peter groaned.

"Aren't you the sweetest?"

Peter rolled his eyes and caught a quick glance at the wall clock. "Hey, your shift's almost over. Better hurry up."

"Right. Thanks, Parker." You began placing back the shot glasses on one of the cabinets then hurriedly walked into a small door on the back. You greeted your boss who was just doing some paperworks.

"Hey, Steve. I'm heading out."

"Right, right." Steve looked up from his laptop and removed his specs, placing them on the table.

You gave him a smile and turned to leave but before you could even close the door, Steve called you.

"Yeah?"

"Nick's not gonna be here tomorrow afternoon and I'm gonna be in Long Island for some family reunion. Would you mind checking all the deliveries for tomorrow?"

"Well, what about the others?"

"Ah, they're no good." Steve sighed. "I only trust you and Nick."

You raised an eyebrow. "Nick? Really?" You wouldn't trust Nick with anything -- not even with some dumb, silly secret.

Steve shrugged. "He's a good kid. He and I get along. So, do I get a yes?"

"Yeah, sure. I got nothing going on tomorrow."

"No photography thingy?"

You pursed your lips. "Not unless you want me to take photos for your family reunion."

"No way in hell am I gonna let you meet my family."

"Aw, you said you trust me."

He chuckled and leaned back on his office chair. "Go home, y/n."

You sent him a smile before heading back to the counter to meet Peter who was mindlessly scrolling on his phone. "Let's go, Parker."

You two walked up the steps towards your apartment building, shoulders bumping from time to time. You and Peter lived on the fifth floor. You would've gotten your own place but your parents cut you off since you refused to work for the family supermarket your family owned in Hoboken, New Jersey. The last time you spoke to your parents was almost three years ago, when you threw a huge tantrum like a damn baby at your graduation party. "There's nothing for me here in New Jersey! It's as boring as these two old couples next door. (No offense). I hated business school. I want to pursue photography whether you like it or not. I'm not staying in this hellhole forever."

"You walk out that door, you're out of here forever."

And out you went with only a couple of clothes and some leftover college money. The only sliver of hope you had was Peter.

"Hey, y/n?" Peter asked as soon as you got inside the elevator. "Hypothetically, if Nick asked you out on a date, would you say yes?"

You gave him a weird look after the elevator doors closed before you. "I don't know, man. Never dip the pen in company ink, right?" You fished for your apartment key on your purse. "How are you so sure he's gonna ask me out?"

"He flat out told me that's how." He replied. "Yesterday night. So, if he does ask you..."

"Why are you so invested in my dating life?"

"You have no dating life." He retorted.

Peter was one to talk. He also didn't have one.

"You know what I mean, idiot."

He shrugged. "Just curious."

The elevator doors opened and you both headed towards your apartment unit, with Peter still yapping about Nick this and Nick that. You groaned, getting ultimately tired of hearing Nick's name and the possibility of you and him dating. "Maybe you should date him, Parker."

"You date him."

You gave him a confused look. "Shut up, Parker."

"Wait, you know what? Don't date him. I don't like him for you. He's weird and -- "

"No, I mean it. Shut. Up." You hissed, stopping on your tracks and grabbing Peter by his arm. You were right outside your apartment unit. There was a small gap between the door and the door frame. It seemed like someone broke in..

"What do we do? What do we do?" Peter half-yelled, half-whispered.

"Have the cops on speed dial. If it really is a robbery, call them. Got it?"

"What if they have guns?"

"I'll tell them to shoot you first."

"Gee, thanks for looking after me. Appreciate it."

You smirked, your hands already on the door. Slowly, you pushed it away from your body, failing to make it as quiet as possible as the door creaked against the floorboards. You gently looked around the dark living room, seeing no sign of someone inside -- until your eyes caught something moving on the couch. Your eyes went wide. You went back in the hallway where Peter was standing with his phone in his hand, ready to press the call button.

"Well?" He was waiting for an answer.

"I think someone's crashing on our couch?" Even you looked confused.

"What? Are you sure?"

"Either that or a large animal just broke into our apartment. Come on, let's go see." You whispered, trying not to wake up the uninvited guest.

"I'm not going in there!"

"Fine, I'll wake the bastard up." You groaned. "Pussy."

"Dick." He snickered but zipped his mouth shut as soon as you sent him a glare.

Without a noise, you managed to get closer, using the light from your phone as a guide. On the couch was a huge blanket sprawled across and under that was the rhythmic sound of someone breathing. Your hand lightly trembled, reaching for the blanket to unveil whoever was under it; but before you could even touch a single thread, the person jumped out of the couch, and so did your heart. You let out a scream, falling backwards and hitting your head on one of the small tables beside the couch. The unknown person stood on the couch, and awfully joined your screams. The lights suddenly turned on, with Peter standing by the door.

"Oh my god!" You yelped as soon as you realized the man in front of you was naked. No clothes, no nothing, just bare skin against the cold breeze. Your hands immediately flew to your eyes. "Who the hell are you?" Your screamed at him.

He urged you to remove your hand from your eyes, telling you he was wrapping the blanket around his waist. Thankfully, he wasn't lying.

"Bucky?" Peter breathed, approaching the scene.

"This is Bucky?" You asked in disbelief.

Bucky smiled and jumped off the couch, offering his hand. "Hi, I'm Bucky."

[pentechnics]

Double Team

Chapter 7 of Of Love and Time

Summary: A sour evening doesn't have to stay that way.

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader (no y/n)

Series content: teacher/parent AU, fluff, slow burn, lots of pining, eventual mentions of past trauma (will tag in detail when the time comes), eventual depictions of violence (nothing explicit, no gore), eventual angst, Grogu is at the equivalent age of a human 4-year-old

Notes: Friends -- when I tell you I've been dying to write this chapter since I started this fic, I am not exaggerating. This has got to be my favorite one so far, I love how it turned out! (it's so much longer than expected hslkgdhsgl) And I really hope you enjoy reading it! Today’s been kinda hard for me so I’m happy this was ready so I can share it and put some smiles on your faces! Please share your thoughts with me, and as always thank you so much for your interest and support! ❤️ Taglist under the cut, let me know if you'd like to be added!

Chapter Content: attempted gaslighting, drunk man, minor depictions of violence

Series Masterlist

It warmed your heart to see Grogu and Li playing together on the play structure.

Everyone had been so excited to see Grogu when he came back, but none more so than Li. As soon as he walked through the door that morning she ran up to him and hugged him, causing all the other students to join in and pile themselves into a large group hug. The Mandalorian stood outside the doorway, arms reached out in reactionary caution before realizing what was happening. He’d looked at you with a shrug and you couldn’t stop grinning.

Seeing the duo now, without any hints of fear or past grief weighing between them, was a breath of fresh air after the week they’ve had.

The classroom felt complete once more as you went through the day with your kiddos, teaching them new things and giving them plenty of opportunities to be the children they were.

While the situation surrounding the force was stressful, it gave you a renewed sense of purpose. You were there to provide the children with safety and compassion, to validate their pain and give them a reminder that they deserve their due years of innocence. The evils of the galaxy couldn’t harm them here.

You thought about the story the Mandalorian told you about how he found Grogu. Frankly, it blew your mind. Whatever they experienced together between the moment the Mandalorian found him and the moment he gave Grogu to the client was enough for him to risk it all. Enough for him to lay himself on the line for Grogu’s life.

Enough for him to keep doing that with each passing day.

It answered a lot of questions, but it also inspired more. You couldn’t help your greed -- you wanted to know more about the Mandalorian. And at the same time you felt like you’d already entered a part of his life you weren’t meant to be in. Though you didn’t understand why.

It’s not as if he was the first to tell you his family’s story. But he was the first to somehow leave you wanting more. Being around him was like a metal near a magnet -- you were helpless to his draw, always struggling to break free. You felt the weight of his absence whenever he walked away. Your heart hammered against your ribcage whenever he crept back into the forefront of your mind, or whenever he came into your line of sight.

You recognized these sensations, but they’ve never been this intense. Why, you begged yourself. Why him? Why like this?

Why, when there can’t be a road forward that ends well for either of you?

~~~

As the school day drew to its end, you walked your class out to the gate. The void in the courtyard was filled once more with the Mandalorian’s towering figure, the sun behind him cloaking him in a stunning glow.

You knelt down and bid each child farewell one by one. You didn’t miss the fact that Li’s father was the only one present to pick her up, or the way he scurried away once she reached him. Tracking down Li’s mother had been a fruitless endeavor since that day. You pushed the thought away as Grogu walked up to you.

“What’ll it be today, bud?” You asked him.

“Hmm…” His brow wrinkled as he considered his choices. He looked at his hand before looking back up at you.

“Can I have two?”

“You want two today?” You asked with a grin. “You got it bud, which ones?”

He smiled as he held up his hand.

“Okay, high-hand is number one,” you said as he tapped his hand against yours before holding up his arms.

“And hug is number two?”

He nodded. You couldn’t help smiling as you opened your arms and welcomed the embrace. He buried his face in your shoulder. The gesture stirred something in you that made tears prick behind your eyes. You thought back to when he’d had that bad dream, how warm his small frame had been as he fell asleep in your arms, and again when he told you he felt safe with you. After what he’s gone through now, you imagined this was his way of saying he still did. You brought up your hand to cradle the back of his head and let him take his time hugging you.

The Mandalorian’s eyes were on you both, you could sense that stare anywhere, but your mind didn’t linger on it. You gave Grogu a small squeeze that he returned. He grinned at you as he pulled away and waddled over to his father. A new fondness settled itself in your heart as you watched him go.

You gazed at the two of them together. Both of them mysterious, both of them kind.

Both of them implanting themselves into your heart.

And there was nothing you could do to stop it.

~~~

Another week came to an end, and stresses from it weighed on your mind as you went about your Saturday. You still hadn’t been able to reach either of Li’s parents, and you worried that the tension between them and Grogu’s family would grow more hostile.

You also had an Open House to plan. It was just around the corner, and some classrooms had yet to submit a theme. You hated that yours was among them. Normally you’d be on top of getting that done earlier, but with everything that happened you’d pushed back having that discussion with your class. You hoped you wouldn’t have to scramble too much to put on a nice display for them.

Adding to your stress was the fact that tonight was your meeting with Tey. You’d been less-than-excited to see her again in general, but having it planned so far in advance meant you had fixated on it throughout the month. And now that the evening was here, it took everything in your power to not cancel just an hour before your scheduled time. Your existing physical exhaustion did not help the matter.

At least you got to wear your fun clothes for once. A low-cut v-neck top with your favorite jeans and a light jacket. You looked good, which helped you feel a bit better about the situation. After making sure you had everything you needed in your pockets, you headed to the downtown diner.

As you paid the driver and stepped out of the speeder you already wanted to go home. Downtown was predictably busy, bodies hustling about in and out of shops and restaurants, or just hanging out along the street. The diner was at the corner, tucked next to various small shops. Inside sat a bar in the middle of the diner, with rows of booths wrapping around each wall. You scanned the area as you walked in until you spotted Tey in the back, waving your way.

Your stomach churned as you took in her familiar visage: her sage skin and orange eyes were bright as ever, her grin just as snarky as you remember. You made your way over and sat on the other side of the booth. You two placed your orders between small talk, then you made the mistake of asking what she’d been up to.

For the next thirty minutes, Tey described every detail of her recent adventures, traveling between planets such as Tatooine, Sorgan, and Naboo, just to name a couple. She talked of new friends and spicy flings, and various instances of stowing away on carrier ships to get to her next destination. You wondered if she was breathing at all between her words with how rapidly she was talking. She was in her own world, gesturing and looking about. You were convinced she forgot you were there about five minutes into it.

At some point you’d checked out of her tales and your eyes wandered around the back corner of the diner. Multiple groups and some couples took up the booths, and some folks were chatting at the section of the bar nearest you.

Even though you knew it was impossible, you wished to miraculously find a glint of beskar somewhere in the crowd. If only such manifestation were possible.

“... pretty cool, isn’t it?”

You looked back at Tey and nodded.

“Yeah, that sounds really cool.” You had no clue what she was referring to. But based on her sly grin, that seemed like the very answer she wanted.

“How about you?” she asked as she gave payment for your meals to the waiter. “What’s up with you?”

“Oh, not too much,” you shrugged. “Still teaching at the school.”

You hesitated to go on. Tey had never understood your affinity for the simple life. She’d tried persuading you into joining her on a previous trip to the point of utter exhaustion. You literally had to throw her out of your house.

“That’s cool, have you done anything fun recently?”

The zoo came to mind. You began to briefly describe the trip.

“And then I was chosen to ride a Blurrg-”

“Oh wow, you know what that reminds me of? Way back, that time we went to Tatooine, and that creature almost crushed you!”

She laughed. You brought your lips into a tight line irritation beginning to brew in your gut.

“I do remember. I remember you ditching me in the middle of the dunes with nothing but a pail of water.”

“Hey I came back, didn’t I? You were fine.”

“I literally wasn’t, I almost died. You said it yourself, that creature almost killed me. And starvation definitely would have if I hadn’t found that camp.”

She shrugged. “You’re a tough person. I figured after what happened with your brother that you could survive anything.”

Your blood was boiling. You hadn’t thought about this incident in so long. You couldn’t remember what made you even talk to her again after it. Then she dares bring up your brother? Why in the world would she think that was okay?

“So you’re saying that my traumatic experiences make it okay for you to desert me for no good reason?”

“Well, it’s obviously going to sound bad when you put it that way.”

“In what way would it sound good?”

You were livid. You didn’t expect this night to go super well, but you definitely didn’t prepare to face anything like this.

“Honestly, why am I still friends with you?”

“Hey,” she started, with the nerve to sound offended, “I was there for you after it happened. I was all you had.”

“Yeah? Well you’re not anymore.”

She scowled. “Why are you making such a big deal out of this?”

“Because I think you using my trauma as a bargaining chip is a big deal. I don’t know if you know this, but actual friends don’t do that.”

You were shaking all over. You pressed your knees together in an attempt to limit the movement in your legs. You stared into her eyes.

“You should just leave. Next time you come around, don’t call me.”

“Oh come on, you can’t be ser-”

“Leave.”

You hardly recognized your own voice. Deep and laced with darkness. She gawked at you for a moment before grabbing her bag and bidding you a bitter farewell, your name drenched in venom as she spat it from her lips.

You didn’t move until you heard the chime of the front door. With a sigh you collapsed against the booth, your head thumping against the back.

Did all that really just happen?

~~~

You weren’t sure how much time had passed since Tey left. You were still sitting in the booth, having ordered a dessert for yourself. At least she’d paid for your dinner before the fiasco.

Her words scratched against your conscience like a bubbling rash:

‘After what happened to your brother, you can survive anything.’

‘I was all you had.’

‘I came back, didn’t I?’

‘Why are you making such a big deal out of this?’

You ate a scoop of your ice cream sundae. The sweet cream was nice on your tongue, the vanilla and chocolate flavors spreading around your mouth, but it did very little to ease your pain. Growing apart from Tey was one thing, but for her to outright disrespect you like that was completely unexpected.

On one hand maybe you should have just cancelled, let this thing fizzle out on its own over time. But on the other you were glad the process had been expedited and you didn’t have to see her again, even if it was at your expense. The benefits outweigh the cost, right?

A loud voice from your right brought you back to the moment.

“What’s the matter, sweet thing? Having a tough night?”

A man leaned against your table, partially casting a shadow over you. You didn’t even look at him. His words were slurring together and he reeked of spotchka. You were not about to deal with this today.

“I will give you ten seconds to walk away with your dignity and bones intact.”

He cackled. The sound was vile, like nails on a chalkboard. A tiny part of you hoped he’d give you a reason to smack him across the face.

“Aw come on sugar, don’t be like that! How about a smile?”

He slapped his hand on your shoulder and you instantly reacted. You stood and grabbed his wrist, twisting his arm the wrong way and sending him to his knees. He began to call out in pain.

“I gave you an out. You should have taken it.”

“Let me go, you’re gonna break my arm!”

You smirked and put on your best sarcastic tone.

“Aw, don’t be like that, how about a smile?” You twisted his hand further and he shrieked.

You held him there for a few more moments before using your hold on him to launch him across the floor. He slid across the linoleum floor and landed by the back wall. With a huff you threw on your jacket and started towards the door. As you approached the front of the diner, a glance upward halted you in your tracks, your jaw dropping.

Standing a few paces from you was the Mandalorian. The one person you’d actually wanted to see all night. As if his presence was born from your thoughts.

You blinked a few times to make sure he was real -- same beskar attire as always, stance open as if he were about to fight.

“Uhh… hey,” you said flatly, the shock of seeing him short-circuiting your thoughts.

He gave a small wave.

You glanced behind you with a nervous chuckle.

“I’m guessing you saw that.”

He nodded. “It was… impressive.”

Heat filled your cheeks as you bit your lip.

“Though I am sorry it had to happen at all.”

“Eh,” you sighed, “this is a sanctuary, not a utopia. Some things just can’t be escaped.”

You heard shuffling behind you before that vulgar voice filled the air once more.

“Oh, you think I’m gonna be scared because your boyfriend’s a Mandalorian?”

You didn’t even register the term as you chuckled darkly and turned around.

“Really, man? After that you think he’s the one you need to be afraid of right now?” You jabbed a thumb behind you.

The man slowly got back on his feet, and the Mandalorian stepped up next to you. You crossed your arms over your chest.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” You asked him.

He nodded. “Double-team it?”

“Yep.”

“By all means,” he stretched his arm out, inviting you to step forward as the man slowly stumbled his way to you.

With his arm cocked at a lazy angle he took a wide swing at you, which you avoided with a step to the side. You slipped your foot in front of his, tripping him and sending him flopping to the floor once more. He landed right at the Mandalorian’s feet, who lifted him up by his collar. Your brow raised up -- you knew he was strong, but seeing him lift this man like he weighed nothing, feet dangling in the air just a bit, sent a pleasant shiver down your spine.

Damn.

The Mandalorian roughly turned the man around to face you and gave you a nod. You grinned as you clenched your hand into a fist and sent it flying into his face, effectively knocking him out.

The Mandalorian tossed him to the side as cheers rang out throughout the diner. You looked around with a chuckle, having forgotten that there were others present. You walked up to the employee behind the bar and handed him some credits.

“Those are for you, I’m so sorry for all that.”

He shook his head. “No, that guy had it coming. Thank you for the show.”

You giggled as you returned your attention to the Mandalorian. He held out his arm to you.

“Shall we?”

You stared at his arm for a moment before looping yours into it.

“... we shall.”

He escorted you out of the diner. As you walked out the door, all your prior feelings of pain and bitterness were left behind.

~~~

“Thank you for your help,” you said as you stepped out into the night on the Mandalorian’s arm, the crisp air blowing straight through your thin layers and onto your skin. A welcomed reprieve from your adrenaline rush.

“It was nice to have backup.”

“You definitely didn’t need it, though.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t wanted.”

The two of you stopped a few paces away from the entrance of the diner, arms still locked together. He tilted his head. You smiled.

“So then, what were you doing around here tonight?”

He scoffed. “Some of the folks at work go out every week. Normally I can get out of it, but my housemates said I had to go this time. Something about not being a social recluse.”

You laughed, giving his arm a little squeeze. The fabric of his flight suit was worn, rugged. It scrunched up around your hand. He tensed a bit under your touch before relaxing again. Your eyes met his visor again and you froze up. He was very close to your face. Both of you dropped your arms.

“Listen, um,” he cleared his throat, hand coming up to scratch at the fabric covering his neck. “Do you have some time? Do you want to… uh…”

He gestured to the streets around you as his voice faded out.

“.... walk around?” you offered.

You couldn't help grinning when he looked back at you.

“I’d love to.”

The two of you made your way down the street, chatting about any little subject that came to mind. He turned your previous question on you, and you gave him a very condensed version of your fight with Tey: a meet-up with an old friend that ended when she tried to guilt you into continuing to be her friend.

“I’m sorry it didn’t go well.”

You shrugged. “That friendship was doomed to failure, unfortunately.”

“Even so, you don’t deserve bad treatment. Quite the contrary, actually.”

You looked up at him. He had that same softness and genuineness in his voice that could make you believe anything. Despite the chill in the air, your face felt hot.

The two of you stopped at a shop window. The Mandalorian peered through before pointing at a statue of some kind of green creature. It had a mischievous grin spread across its face.

“That reminds me of Grogu.”

You laughed. “It does look a little like him!”

You walked inside the shop. It was filled with all kinds of antiques lining the walls and walkways — not a single clear space to be found.

And Ugnaut greeted you from behind the counter as you both wandered about.

“Have you been to this place before?” The Mandalorian asked.

“No, I didn’t even know it was here.”

And that was true. You didn’t come downtown very often anyway, but you thought you knew what shops were around.

The two of you happened upon a clear case sitting on the shelf of an old bookcase. Inside of it was a pair of delicate amulets — stones of deep violet encased in silver backings, dangling from matching chains — laying on a bed of crushed white velvet. The stones were rough with jagged edges, only parts of them polished off. Each uneven groove reflected the store’s yellow lighting and glistened in a stunning light show. The sight of them took your breath away.

“They’re beautiful…”

“These amulets have a steep history,” came a voice from behind. You and the Mandalorian turned around to find the Ugnaut standing there.

“They used to be one stone. A woman was given the stone as a gift from her wife. They were meant to be, and they were together for many years. Had a family. But one day she lost her.”

Your brows scrunched together as you took in the tale.

“In her grief she smashed the stone and it broke in two.”

In your periphery you saw the Mandalorian glance at the amulets.

“In time the woman came to terms with her pain, and she fashioned each piece of the stone into these amulets. She gave the amulets to her only child and told them to give the other to their beloved. She believed this stone to be infused with her lost love. And she may have been right.”

You and the Mandalorian glanced at each other.

“When the child found their love they too were happy together for the rest of their days. And their children continued to follow the tradition with each new generation. Except for one.

“One child, many generations later, lost his parents soon after receiving the amulets from them. He was unable to handle the pain of his grief. He sold the amulets and ran. The family tracked them down and that’s when they were brought here. They asked me to only sell them to someone who is understanding of their history, deserving of the love her ancestors clung to so dearly. With so much pain in the galaxy, these are a symbol of the good that can come from perseverance.”

“That’s amazing,” you said as you looked at the amulets again.

“How will you know when you’ve found the right person?”

“I will know. There will be no doubt.” He looked between you both, his eyes narrowing.

“... In time,” he murmured before walking away.

You looked at the Mandalorian. He was already staring at you, head tilted.

“What a story, huh?” You cursed the crack in your voice. He nodded.

After a moment more the two of you carried on, exploring the shop a bit more. You couldn’t help noticing the shift in the Mandalorian’s energy. He would glance back towards the amulets every now and then, and he appeared a bit distracted for the rest of your time there.

You said goodbye to the Ugnaut as the two of you made your way out of the shop, and he tipped his head to you.

“You two have a good night. I will see you again.”

~~~

You and the Mandalorian, who seemed to snap out of his little trance since leaving the shop, walked back to the diner’s parking lot where his speeder bike sat. It was a simple machine, black all around. You couldn’t help teasing him a bit.

“Love the color.”

He waved a hand towards it. “It’s not flashy. That’s why I picked it.”

“Oh, I get it, you want to be the flashy one in comparison?”

You laughed as he tilted his head towards you, hands coming up to rest on his hips.

“What color is yours, then?”

“If I had one, I think I’d want it to be green. Or maybe blue.”

He nodded and leaned against his speeder. After a moment though, his gaze snapped back at you.

“Wait, do you have a way to get home?” He asked you.

“I’ll just hail a speeder, that’s what I usually do.”

He stood back up. “Let me drive you. It’s the least I can do.”

“I’m not sure what you mean by that, but it’s really not necessary.”

“Please,” he breathed as he stepped closer, stopping just in front of you. “You’ve helped my son more than you know. Let me do this for you.”

You couldn’t help staring. His voice was so soft and tender, like a hand caressing your cheek. You swallowed as you tried to make words come out of your mouth.

“I-I don't want to inconvenience you-“

“You’re not. I’d be honored.”

You stared for a moment longer before sighing. He’d really backed you into a corner, but what confused you is the fact you didn’t entirely mind.

“Thank you.”

He set you up behind him on the speeder bike, handing you a pair of goggles. He instructed you to hang onto him from behind and you hesitantly rested your hands on his sides. He immediately took hold of your wrists.

“You’ll fall off if you keep them there.”

He slowly brought them all the way around, your palms now resting on his belly. Your breath hitched as your chest pressed against his back.

“There we go.”

“Okay then, looks like you’re the teacher this time,” you said, trying your best to mask your nerves.

“That’s right, Missy.”

Your eyes bulged at his suddenly teasing, darker tone. He didn’t give you time to respond before starting the engine and speeding off into the night.

You tightened your hold as he sped up, a small squeal escaping your lips. You felt his diaphragm bounce up and down under your hands as he laughed.

He was a skillful driver; he kept the speeder smooth as he stopped and went, the city’s colorful mayhem forming a kaleidoscope before your eyes. You relaxed as you got used to the speed, letting the chilly air wrap itself around you. You couldn’t feel the moments passing; time ceased to exist altogether. All you were was right there, on the back of a speeder bike, arms wrapped around the Mandalorian.

When had you last felt so at peace?

He suddenly took a sharp turn and pulled off to the side of the road, turning his head to address you.

“I’m sorry — I forgot to ask where you live.”

You looked around and found that he’d driven into a completely different sector of town. You threw your head back and laughed. You hadn’t even realized he wouldn’t know where to go.

“I’m sorry I forgot to tell you!”

After some guidance he was on the path again, this time with a destination in mind.

~~~

As you got closer to your neighborhood his speed decreased, the engine quieting down. An ‘ooh’ escaped your lungs as the community garden came into view, with new blooms showing themselves under the moonlight. You didn’t think it was a loud sound, but the Mandalorian heard it.

“What is it?”

“Oh nothing, I was just noticing the garden.”

“Should we stop?”

“We don’t have to, I just-“

In a moment he was pulled over.

“It’s okay, I’m sure you want to get home to Grogu.”

“I have time. Show me.”

You tilted your head at him before slowly sliding off the speeder, tugging the goggles from your head.

He followed as you walked into the garden.

“The whole community chips in to take care of this place. A few new things have bloomed since I was last here.”

A bush of orange berries caught his eye and you happily plucked a few for him to take home despite his resistance. You continued past the fruits and vegetables, heading for the florals. Some of the flowers you saw last time were wilting, while others were just beginning to bloom. Pink, blue, yellow, and more painted the area in a vibrant rainbow. You stopped in front of the mystery plant, which had yet to bloom, but was now much taller with a collection of buds coming through.

“This one was so short before,” you gently ran your finger along one of the emerging buds.

“What will it bloom into?”

“I’m not sure. There’s no placard to identify it, and I’m not sure who planted it.”

“Huh,” the Mandalorian stepped up beside you to look at the plant, a little beep coming from the button he’d tapped on his helmet. You bit your lip as his cuirass pressed against your shoulder. You stayed as still as possible while he took his time examining the greenery.

Damn that cologne. Damn the way you picked up its scent so easily. Damn how good it smelled.

He stepped back with a sigh and you took a deep breath.

“Thought I could scan it, but I can’t quite figure out what it is either.”

You shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out when it blooms.”

The two of you walked on. Your eyes wandered upward, and you let out a little gasp.

The planet’s two moons were half-full. Their light illuminated the park around you and painted the sky with a gorgeous teal hue.

“What a beautiful sight,” you sighed.

The Mandalorian was silent. In your periphery you saw him look your way.

“... Sure is.”

Heat filled your cheeks. You wanted to look at him, but you also didn’t. You ended up doing so with a smile, eyes immediately fixating on his dark visor.

He took you in for a moment before glancing away, then back at you.

“Can I show you something?”

You blinked a bit before nodding.

“Okay. I’ll be back.”

He jogged back to his speeder bike. You watched him open the back compartment before turning your back and looking to the sky again. He was back at your side moments later, jetpack now attached to his back. There was a tiny bounce in his stance.

“First off, I need to know if you trust me.” He stretched a hand out to you.

You glanced between it and the helmet, a tiny prick of anxiety biting at your gut.

He never gave you a reason not to trust him. In fact, you felt like you gained a new reason to do so every time you saw him. The actual words never felt like they needed to be said. You placed your hand in his.

“... I do.”

“Good.”

You gasped as he pulled you into him with a strong tug and pressed your back flat against his chest. His arms wrapped around your middle.

“Just relax,” he breathed into your ear. “Relax and hang on.”

You shivered as your heart rate picked up its pace. How in the world were you supposed to relax if he said it like that?

He pushed a button on his vambrace and the jetpack roared to life. You both shot up into the air, the wind harsh against your face. Your hands clung tightly to his arm as your hair whipped against your face. As the ground underneath got farther away you squealed, nerves quickly taking over as you pressed your face into his neck. The warmth and strong scent of him instantly calmed you.

The vibrations of his laughter made their way from his throat into your skin.

“Probably should’ve asked how you are with heights first.”

You giggled into his neck. A muscle tensed up as he swallowed.

“When I tell you, try to open your eyes.”

He tightened his grip on you as he brought you higher into the sky. Your stomach dropped when he leveled out, your hold on him tightening as well.

“Okay, now!”

You peeked your head out and your eyes instantly went wide.

Below you was the vast expanse of the city, lights twinkling like the stars themselves as you soared over them. The sky’s hue cast itself over every building and clear space, painting the entire world in its likeness.

“Oh my gosh,” you turned to him as much as you could. “This is amazing!”

From this angle you could see the way his neck stretched up into the helmet while he looked forward. The fabric stretched all the way up underneath; it was too dark to make out where it ended. He looked down at you.

“I’m glad.”

You could be in that moment forever — staring at him as the sky enveloped you both, the stars of the night intertwining with the stars of the city below, moonlight meshing so perfectly against his beskar.

You were instantly brought back to where you were when he suddenly dipped down. Your head snapped toward the ground with a squeal.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to do that,” he said as he straightened out. You laughed.

He took you around the whole neighborhood, even daring to do some twirls and other tricks.

“Show-off!” You’d call. He’d laugh out loud.

You wished the jetpack wasn’t masking the sound of it.

After another lap around the area he brought you both back down, landing in the middle of the community garden. You made no move to let go of him as your feet touched the ground, your body still trembling from the rush of it all.

His chest rose and fell against your back as he caught his breath. His heartbeat was faintly bouncing through the beskar — it was racing.

Yours matched.

He gave you a small squeeze before releasing you. You turned around to face him.

“That was amazing.” Your grin must’ve been so ridiculous with how big it was, but you didn’t care. “Thank you so much for showing me.”

“You’re welcome.”

You both stood in silence for a beat before you sighed.

“I don’t want to keep you out much longer, you’re probably eager to get home. I could just wa-”

You cut yourself off when he stepped forward, back into your personal space.

“Really?”

Your mouth snapped closed. You shook your head.

“There we go,” he said as he started walking towards the speeder bike, turning you around and resting his hand on the small of your back. You chuckled despite yourself.

“So, you just get to fly around whenever you want, then? You can see the world like that at any given moment?”

He shrugged. “Pretty much.”

“That’s awesome.”

A small snicker. You wanted to hear that laugh again -- the full-on belly laugh that the jetpack had so rudely covered up.

You both got back on the speeder, the Mandalorian removing his jetpack and placing it in the back before situating himself in front of you. After telling him which way to go he set off at a very slow pace. You had not hesitated to wrap your arms around him this time, resting your head against his back. The familiar texture of his cape tickled your cheek as you closed your eyes and breathed him in.

You didn’t notice the speeder had stopped until his hand covered yours on his belly.

“Is this the right house?”

You blinked as you straightened up.

“Yes, that’s the one.”

Only you didn’t want to move. He was so warm, and he had made this night so magical. You didn’t want it to end. His hand was still on top of yours, gloved thumb gently stroking your fingers. You mimicked his earlier action and gave him a squeeze before letting go and climbing off the bike.

You removed the goggles and placed them in his waiting palm. But before you could pull away, he took your hand back in his.

“What is that?”

Your brow scrunched as you looked at your hand, his visor now bending over to examine it. Dried blood spanned over two of your knuckles. They must’ve busted open when you punched the guy in the diner.

“I hadn’t even felt anything this whole time,” You said, an exasperated laugh slipping through your lips.

“Does it hurt at all?”

“No, it’s completely fine.”

Both of his hands continued to caress yours. “Are you sure?”

You couldn’t help the way your heart swelled when he looked back up at you. His voice was so filled with concern. He held your hand so delicately yet firmly, as if he were trying to protect it.

“Yes,” you breathed, “I’m positive. And I’ll clean it up once I get inside.”

“Okay.”

He encased your hand in both of his, careful not to irritate the injury. Your skin began to thaw from its overexposure to the night’s chilly conditions, the sensation sending soothing tingles through each of your fingers. The leather of his gloves was still rough against your skin, but you found you no longer minded. You welcomed it. You spread your fingers out over his palm.

“Thank you,” you started, “for the ride, for having my back, for-” you smiled.

“For tonight. I had a wonderful time.”

“As did I.”

“I guess going out with your coworkers isn’t so bad after all, huh?”

He chuckled with a soft shake of his head before returning his gaze to you.

“Not if it turns out like this.”

Your lips parted. You brought them back in and gnawed at them to keep from grinning, glancing at the ground before coming back up. Heat burned your neck, moving all the way up to your cheeks. He tilted his head, hands still caressing yours in comforting little circles. You sighed.

“Well then, good night, Mr. Djarin.”

“Din.”

You blinked. He said it so fast, you weren’t sure you fully registered it.

“Sorry?”

“My name. It’s Din.”

You couldn’t stop your grin if you tried. What a lovely name, you thought. What a lovely sound. But then again, everything out of his mouth was a lovely sound. You breathed a little laugh.

“Okay then.”

You stared into the visor, feeling his eyes staring right back into yours. You tried to find where they lay behind their hiding place. What color were they, you wondered.

“Good night, Din.”

He bid you good night as well, your name sounding like the sweetest honey as it fell so effortlessly from his lips. It sounded so right.

You had to fight against the will of your muscles to remove your hand from his grasp. You did it slowly, inching it out and trying to absorb as much of the warmth from his hands as you could, grabbing onto his fingers on your way out.

When you both finally let your hands fall after one last squeeze, you took a step back and waited for him to start up the engine. He made no move to do so, gaze still trapped on you. You slipped your hands in your pockets as you bit your lip. After a few more moments of silence, he cleared his throat.

“Um- was there something else you were waiting for?”

Your brow shot up.

“Oh no,” you began with a laugh, “I was just going to see you off.”

“No, no,” he waved you towards the house. “You go first, I’ll see you in before I go.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.”

You giggled as you took a couple steps back, still facing him.

“Okay. Good night, then.”

“Good night.”

You ripped your eyes from him and turned around, fishing your keys out of your pocket as you made your way to the door. As you unlocked it you turned around and gave him a wave, which he returned.

“Let me know what you think of those berries!” You called.

He gave you a thumbs-up and patted one of the pockets on his belt. You stood in the doorway and took him in one more time: sitting on the speeder bike, the top of his body turned in your direction, one hand resting on his thigh. You smiled as you closed the door.

You immediately went over to the window adjacent to your door, pulling the curtain to the side just enough to peek out.

He was shaking his head a bit as he looked between his lap and your door. He placed both hands on the handles, chest rising and falling as he looked up to the sky. The moons reflected off his beskar again, basking him in their translucent glow. With one last glance at your door he started up the bike and slowly began to make his way down the street.

You stood there and watched until the faint glow of exhaust was no longer visible. You let the curtain slip from your hand as your back collided with the wall and you slid down to the floor, knees pinned to your chest.

What in the sweet kriff just happened?

***

[charming-charlie]

Washed Away pt. 5

Title // Washed Away pt. 5

Pairing // Evan Buckley x Reader

Warnings // Mentions of death and a missing kid.

Summary // Who knew hanging out with Buck and Christopher for a day would lead to a life or death situation?

Word Count // 2.5k

Prompt // Hi! Can i request a fic where you were with Buck & Christopher when the tsunami hit? They could be dating or crushing on each other. If nothing comes to mind, then it’s completely fine to ignore this request! Have a nice day!’

Author’s Note // This is the final part of the Washed Away series. || Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

Tagged List // @aprildecker-blog​​​ @coffeewithoutcaffeine​​​ @daddysfavoritesexkitten​​​ @chenfordlove​​​ @comeasyoudar​​​ @carnationworld​​​ @averyhotchner​ @evanbuckos​​

The sun had set. The day was over, but that doesn’t mean the situation is. You and Buck had been wading through the water for hours, heading to the last place someone said they saw Christopher.

Exhaustion was starting to settle in. You were sore all over too. It felt like you just finished running up and down a flight of stairs non-stop while carrying a bookbag full of weights. Your shoulders hurt, your legs felt like they were going to give out any time soon, and your body was so dehydrated from soaking up and drinking in a lot of saltwater that you pretty much felt delirious.

Finally, civilization was within reach.

A makeshift help spot was set up near the bakery where you and Buck were headed. Water bottles were being passed out and you reached out to grab one. How could something so common look so precious, like it was made of gold?

You twisted off the cap and downed half of it in three big gulps and handed the rest of it to Buck. He finished off the water, nearly gasping for breath by the end. He was exhausted too. You didn’t even know how long you two were walking and the little help was most appreciated.

The people around you looked worse for wear. You couldn’t imagine the struggles they went through to try and save themselves or what their story could be. You were sure it was similar. Everyone lost someone or something in the tsunami and you knew it was going to be hard to get over that.

Then again, did you really want to?

The whole event gave you a new outlook on life and appreciate what you have. You didn’t appreciate your job enough, but you were grateful now. You were a school nurse and you realized you love those kids that you looked after. You loved Christopher, having seen him and checked on him many times thanks to his worrisome father, and it would break your heart to never see that little boy again.

Now is not the time to think about those things. You didn’t know for sure. Let’s not focus on the what ifs.

For a moment, Buck swore he saw Christopher. He saw a little boy clinging to the leg of some woman, and he let out a relieved sigh, only for his eyes to play tricks on him. It wasn’t Christopher at all.

“Mister, are you okay? You’re bleeding,” a nearby passerby said, and Buck glanced down at his hand.

Sure enough, he was.

There was a cut of some kind, and the two of you didn’t even realize it. You frowned, mentally kicking yourself and cursing yourself out for not realizing Buck’s injury. The ex-firefighter sat down, looking worse for wear and you grabbed his hand carefully while examining it.

You ripped off a strip of your shirt to use as a bandage and Buck’s eyes sort of glazed over. Due to his adrenaline, he probably wasn’t feeling any pain.

“What am I gonna do?” Buck whispered as you tended to him, “how am I gonna tell Eddie?”

You said nothing, because you knew whatever you did say wouldn’t exactly be helpful. However, you were there. Side by side, you were there with Buck and Christopher today and everything Buck did was for that little boy. You never seen someone care so much the way Buck does. He has such a good heart and for once, you were hoping against hope that things would work out in his favor. He didn’t deserve this.

After a bit of a break, including some water to get both of your heads on straight, you two were back to the grind. This time, you didn’t have to walk for long.

There was an old mall or hospital, you couldn’t be sure, that somehow turned into a makeshift triage center not too far from where you and Buck were. The two of you practically dashed over to the building and its tents, being careful since there wasn’t a lot of strength left between you.

Buck was looking in the beds, glancing around for anyone that even remotely passed Christopher. You hijacked a few clipboards, searching for Christopher’s name anywhere you can but you both came up empty.

“Eddie dropped Christopher off with me,” Buck began talking to you and you could hear the defeat in his voice. It sounded like he was fighting the feeling of giving up, but he was on the cusp. “He thought it would get me out of my apartment and… out of my head. And you know what I did? I brought him to the pier. I had him, I kept him safe. And then the three of us were on top of the ladder truck and the water receded, and for a moment I felt like I got this. I had you, I had Christopher, and we would be fine. And now Christopher is gone. We checked everywhere. And now I realize I failed. I’m a failure no matter how you look at it.”

You could hear your heart cracking as you listened to him, and you knew nothing you said would change his mind. He was beating himself up over this situation. He did everything he could, and he was still handed the short end of the stick.

Finding Christopher at the makeshift hospital was the last bit of hope he had and now it was gone. You could see the defeat that wavered in his voice and how it hid behind his eyes.

And if that didn’t help the situation, there was Eddie Diaz, tending to a few patients himself. He wore blue latex gloves, had the navy fire uniform on, and was directing a few people into the hospital. Buck nearly choked back a sob as the realization of what to do next was hitting him faster than a wall of bricks.

He had to tell Eddie, and you were going to be right by his side when he did.

However, Buck dashed behind a white tent, pulling you along with him. Turns out he wanted to hide instead of face Christopher’s father.

“Buck,” you said slowly. Your voice was hoarse from lack of water and from shouting Christopher’s name all afternoon with Buck. You felt like your vocal cords were ripped to shreds at this point, but you soldiered on. Now was not the time to accept defeat. “You have to tell him.”

“How?” Buck answered as he looked at you. His hand slowly slipped into your own, and you squeezed his fingers tightly. “How do you tell your best friend that you lost his son?”

“He’s his father. You have to tell him that Christopher is missing,” you said, knowing this was the only chance he had right now.

Buck shook his head, not wanting to hear it. “No, I need to keep looking for him. I need to find him.”

One of your hands instinctively went up to the side of Buck’s face, caressing him lightly. You still couldn’t believe the man in front of you wasn’t giving up just yet, even though maybe he should. You hated the train of thought you were currently on, but Buck was exhausted, and he lost some blood. Plus, it didn’t help that he was severely dehydrated, much like yourself. The two of you were in no condition to continue searching. You probably wouldn’t make it if you tried. You both needed to rest up and regain your strength.

“Buck,” you heard the voice before you saw who it belonged to and your head whipped around to see Eddie. The man was heading outside to continue helping and he looked a bit surprised to see his best friend standing there. Then his eyes fell on you, and the look of surprise seemed to double. “Nurse Y/N, what are you both doing here? Are you okay? Wait, where’s Christopher?”

There was no time to prepare a giant speech. Eddie Diaz was right there in front of you both, and it was now or never. You let go of Buck as you turned to face the father of one of your favorite patients, ready for what was about to happen. This was a conversation you were dreading, and you couldn’t imagine the internal conflicts Buck must be going through as he mustered up the courage to say what happened.

“Eddie…” Buck interjected in between Eddie’s many questions, and the army vet stopped talking.

For a moment, the two best friends stared at each other, like Buck was hoping Eddie would get the hint without saying anything, but you knew that would be the cowardly way out. If there was one thing you learned today, it was that Buck was not a coward. Not now, not ever.

“Me and Christopher… we were at the beach, and I swear to you…” Buck was choking on his words and you squeezed his hand again for support.

Eddie was nodding, trying to understand, but the look on his face was heartbreaking. It was like if he didn’t hear it, it wouldn’t be true.

“I tried… and I just… but I… Eddie, I just don’t know how to say it. Um, he… he um…” Buck couldn’t get through it. He was stumbling over the words and Eddie’s eyes were brimming with the threat of tears as Buck tried to get the words out.

What made it even worse was that Eddie couldn’t even look at Buck. The army vet was looking behind his best friend, like he needed to avoid eye contact with what Buck was saying.

“Christopher?” Eddie questioned softly, like he needed clearance on what Buck was saying, but your gaze followed Eddie’s. A woman had stepped off a truck, carrying a small child. Your heart almost stopped, and you pulled on Buck’s arm to get him to stop talking.

Eddie slowly walked past you and Buck, and he approached the woman. Slowly, Buck turned around to follow Eddie feeling like this was Eddie’s way of coping with denial.

“Christopher?” Eddie called again, and like music to your ears, you heard the little boy shout for his dad.

The woman was carrying Christopher the entire time, bringing him to safety. Tears exploding out of your eyes once you realized what was going on and you stole a glance at Buck. Buck looked elated, like he was about to cry from relief as well. Christopher was alive and in Eddie’s arms, and there was no greater feeling than that.

“Buck, what happened to you?”

Suddenly, the fire crew of Station 118 popped into view. You didn’t know them personally, but you could venture a guess who from all the stories Christopher was told you during his visits to your little office at the school.

Captain Bobby Nash stood in front of the two of you, and he looked deeply concerned. He looked back and forth from you to Buck before asking, “Are you two okay?”

However, your exhaustion was caving in, along with Buck’s. The two of you practically collapsed to the floor and the fire family scrambled to hold onto both of you. That was the last thing you remembered, passing out next to Buck in the arms of his old crew.

It took a while, but the city was in clean up mode. You and Buck had a nice, extended stay at the hospital, hooked up to fluids and oxygen before given a clean bill of health. You were discharged first, since Buck had some lacerations that needed stitching up but the two of you texted nonstop while he regained his strength.

You went back to your job as the nurse at the elementary school, although you also became sort of a guidance counselor to the kids. Turns out, when you were checking for lice or fevers, they needed someone to talk to and you could just relate to them in a way. You were a familiar face in all the chaos, someone they needed to hold onto in order to make sense of things.

Christopher’s appointments never stopped either. In fact, they seemed to be increasing, only because Christopher wanted to talk to you and hang out with you.

“Honestly Eddie, he’s doing fine,” you spoke to Eddie on the phone about his son. You were sitting at your desk, making your daily calls to parents and Eddie Diaz was no stranger to the phone calls. “He’s in good spirits. Nothing is wrong with him, he’s pretty perfect.”

“You know, I never got to thank you,” Eddie’s voice crackled in your ear, “for what you did. Christopher told me how you and Buck saved him, and you have no idea how much I appreciate that.”

The two of you hung up, although there was promises of talking tomorrow. Talking to Eddie was a recurring thing in your life at this point, and you could use the stability.

“Knock knock,” a head peeked into your office, “these came for you.”

The secretary opened your door and placed a bouquet of colorful roses on you desk. There was a white card attached, looking strikingly clean in the middle of the rainbow of flowers.

You pulled off the card and it only said two words.

Come Outside.

Curiously, you stood up and grabbed your stethoscope, draping it around your neck. You never went anywhere without it now, and you weren’t sure what kind of situation you were getting yourself into. You rounded a corner and pushed open the heavy steel door that led to the front of the school. There, standing in all his glory, was Evan Buckley with the most beautiful smile you had ever seen.

“Thank you very much for the flowers,” you said as you smiled at him in return. “Why didn’t you tell me you were out of the hospital. I would’ve sent you some breakfast or something.”

“That’s part of the surprise. So, surprise!” Buck said happily as he approached you.

You just smiled at him, letting his arms snake around your waist as he hugged you tightly. Your arms draped around his neck and it felt so good. It felt familiar.

As you pulled away, you were greeted with something else. Buck, with no hesitation whatsoever, leaned in and captured your lips in a sudden and welcomed kiss. It was all you wanted, all you were waiting for, and you let yourself melt into his arms as he kissed you with such force and determination, you knew you would be a puddle of goo by the end of it.

“Let me take you out on a date,” Buck whispered against your lips, his lips brushing over yours with each and every word, “a real one this time. Just me and you.”

Your heart felt like it would leap out of your chest and you couldn’t manage to bring any words out. Instead, you nodded as you leaned in to kiss him again.

This was all you wanted. You’ve never been happier. You finally had the moment you wanted with Buck and now, a date on the horizon. With your luck, it would be the first of many, you were sure of it. There was no way you were going to let this man go, ever.

[essaysbyciara]

It’s Been A Long Time | Nebraska Williams x Black!PlusSize Reader [Part 1/?]

Warnings: language, smut thoughts (my ministry!)

So this has been in my drafts for a *HOT MINUTE* but that photo of Trevante in high school triggered a release. If people dig where it could be going, I will add it to my list of stuff to finish and open up a taglist. I’ll try my best to do so, I promise! lol

“God, I played this album out…” Lil’ Wayne’s seminal album, The Carter, didn’t age at all. Back in 2004, Wayne was a secret about to bubble over to superstardom, just years shy of lollipops and Static Major (rest in peace). Wayne represented the teenage angst of your time, even though you toiled in the suburbs while he wrestled with the streets. But as “On My Own” damn near explodes your factory speakers, a high pitch ping from your phone pauses your trip down memory lane. 

Message from Sheena: Let’s catch up before the babies wake up. 

You hit the call button on your dash once you stop at a red light. 

“Girl, hey. You on your way to work?”

“Ain’t I always, Shi Shi? Damn near almost overslept. Thought I missed my flight.” 

Sheena, or Shi Shi, is the epitome of a best-friend-forever. You two met in Ms. Grayson’s civics class, 11th grade. On the first day of school, you rolled into third period wearing a Scream Tour II t-shirt and if you were to describe Sheena in that moment, jealous wasn’t even the word.  She stanned hard for Lil’ Bow Wow but her mom wouldn’t let her go to the concert because she got caught with a boy in her room. That boy is now the husband half-way responsible for the twin girls she’s hoping will give her some grace by sleeping a little bit longer. 

“Damn. You wanna gift some of that sleep to these twins, God mommy?”

“Only if you gift me some of those post-pregnancy boobs, Mommy Dearest,”

“Can’t do that. Jarell been having too much fun with those!” 

“Girl, eww. I don’t need to know all that.”

You kinda did. Sheena’s stories were always live, wild and uncut. And the only fireworks you’ve been adjacent to in months since you broke up with that lame stockbroker, Keith. You curve around the airport parking lot as Sheena starts digging deep into her latest soft-core episode with her husband since the six weeks ain’t up yet. In between interjections of how nasty Jarrell could be and watching planes taxi in the distance, you cruise through Instagram to take inventory of what your day might be like. 

Managing social media for the biggest sports publication in the country was not the fulfillment of a dream after high school because, shit,  social media didn’t exist when you were in high school. But it’s what has you just hours away from a flight to the NFL Combine in Indianapolis, sitting in a parking lot, listening to your BFF’s slow burn sexcapades. You break up the audio immersion experience once your timeline displays something else to ruminate over.

“Sheena! Shi -- shut up! I can’t believe - you remember Lisa from high school? She got married ...and it ain’t to Brasco.” 

“Whaaaa… you can finally stop making u-turns in the hallway and snag your man!”

You didn’t appreciate the lowly dig from your friend about Nebraska “Brasco” Williams, star running back, track champion and boy so fine he made both Omarion and J-Boog look like ogres. Your high school crush had you shook to your pubescent core; pretty teeth, deep skin tone and two tattoos before the age of eighteen. You’d see him in the student parking lot with the rest of the football team and you’d rush to your car as if it would go home without you. He was too hot to handle. You were beyond envious that Lisa could. 

“Lisa ain’t do too bad. Her man is crazy fine. I mean, not Brasco fine but still…” 

“Man,  he had high school going crazy. I wonder what happened to him after that fight? I should stalk him on Facebook while I pump.” You laugh so hard, the couple walking past your car stops their argument to stare at you. 

Your laughs break once you realize you might actually miss that flight. You relegate Shi Shi to kiss the twins for you and to send his Facebook profile if she can actually find it. You tried years ago and failed. 

“Aight, fave. I will.  Love you. Text me when you touch down in Indy.” 

As you weave through the terminal, your mind thinks back to the days at New Birth High School. While it brought you joy in a forever friend and the launching point for your forever career in sports journalism, it did bring you one of the most hurtful days of your life that took years to shake. 

It was the summer going into your senior year. Lisa’s sweet sixteen pool party. No way in Hell you thought you’d be there but your Mom and Lisa’s stepmom sat on the same deacon board at church and somehow thought you two were friends; Lisa paid you dust in those hallways. You fretted over every part of your outfit, especially the swim shoes you didn’t want but your Dad picked up at Sports Authority. But you were fretting the most over your swimsuit, a red one-piece with a deep open back. It was sexy for a 16-year-old, to be honest, but you secretly tried it on at the mall and fell in love with it -- especially how it made you feel. 

You fell in deep love with your body that day. The way the swimsuit clenched your waist, giving your almost-pear shape some definition you’d never seen before. Your hips sat wide, your breast placed taunt, just peeking through the sides, showing off a crescent shaped birthmark right below your collarbone. It was Jet Beauty of the Week-esque and it made you feel on top of the world. Something that society kept telling you a plus-size teenage girl was not to feel. You used the last of your paper route money to buy it and hid your secret weapon in the back of your closet until the day arrived. You were hoping to get some boy’s attention -- especially Brasco. But you’d take anybody’s glare if you could get it. 

You were in the clear once your Mom dropped you and Sheena both off at Lisa’s back gate. As you walked into the party, the sounds of the local hip-hop and R&B radio station blasted throughout her huge backyard. So much fun was had -- so much splash and dash -- that the faint sounds of “Knuck If You Buck” failed to erupt a party full of teenagers it was made for. The pool seemed tempting in 90-plus heat but most of the temptation came from the jacuzzi next to it. There inside sat Brasco, his lanky on-field wide receiver sidekick Kenny and Jarell, Sheena’s partner-in-bedroom-bust crime looking delicious in their highlighter-color swim trunks. You were still figuring out your body and the reactions conjured up from the sight of water droplets chasing down their backs confused you even more. But the heat of the sun -- and the heat from your body -- got too much to bear. That pool called your name. 

You stripped off your t-shirt and denim shorts, leaving your swim shoes back by the picnic table. They clashed. Your nerves splashed together like the water you couldn’t wait to feel, battering against your heart. Were you ready for all this attention? Amongst the rest of the classmates, you disappeared. You weren’t popular. People knew of you but didn’t know you, only associating you with Sheena by proxy of Jarell. “My Goodies” came on the radio, providing you a soundtrack and a sign from God. Before you could answer the call, Sheena jumped into the pool. You tossed your glasses on top of your clothes and did the same. 

The water felt golden. Sheena smacked your face with sheets of chlorinated goodness. Too much fun was had by all, even Lisa joined in the fun. Suddenly the entire football team did too except Brasco and Jarell, languishing on the edge of the jacuzzi because like most boys from their side of town, they didn’t know how to swim. Lisa saw her boo in isolation and tapped Sheena on the shoulder. 

“Hey, Shi Shi. Let’s get in the jacuzzi.” Sheena grabbed your hand to guide you out of the pool. You weren’t expecting to see your Mom at the other end. Sheena didn’t grab you to join her in the warm bubbles, she got you out at the angry-faced-behest of your mother. You both were going home. The party silenced and stares followed as everyone watched your walk-of-shame to grab your clothes. You got what you wanted in the worst way possible. 

Your unholy exodus commenced when Lisa’s mom called yours to report what she saw: this red bathing suit too revealing for a little girl to wear. It wasn’t the green ruffled mess-of-a-bathing-suit from last year. She claimed to witness stares and whispers and “boobs hanging out, butt all out.” Your mom got over there quicker than a church shout. She waited to scold you after she dropped off Sheena. 

It was a Sunday School scolding like no other. Tears pooled deep like the one you were just having fun in. You tossed the bathing suit into the trash bin. You were never going to see it again. 

The announcement of your flight breaks you out of your day nightmare. Grabbing the handle on your suitcase, you see a text with an attachment from Sheena. 

Girllllllllllll. I found Brasco and babyyyyyyyyyyy… 

You gasp. Time did a wonder on him in all the right ways. He packed on even more muscle, chiseling out the navy thermal dressing his upper body. Teeth still bright, Moonlight-bright. His Omarion-Pandemonium-era braids were gone, now donning a clean fade with perfect waves. His stance meant business, a lot of it risky. You bite your lower lip to mask the “damn!” urging a release from you, staring at his picture so intensely that you damn near walk into the stewardess checking your boarding pass. 

You couldn’t wait to get to your first-class seat. You needed a safe space to drown in your own splash waterfalls. You beg Sheena to send you his profile, looking to make some more of that mess and she obliges. Scrolling through his Facebook, you see nothing. You needed him to match your uncleanliness. Another text from Sheena breaks you out of your spell. 

Ain’t shit on here though. I can’t find an Instagram or anything. That’s where the dirt is at lol 

You put your social media skills to work. Ain’t an Instagram profile that you can’t find. Nebraska Williams brings up nothing. Such a unique name and nothing to show for it. 

Maybe Jarell can follow him, Shi. 

Jarell ain’t on this thing. He hates all this stuff. You want me to follow him? 

Girl, yes! I need more pictures! I’m trying to find his ‘gram and no diceeeeeee. Ughhhh. 

Damn the “no cell phone until after lift off” announcement. You then try “Brasco”, too many names -- rappers, really--  and a dog company to boot. “Brasco Williams” yields no results. You couldn’t wait what could be hours, days,  weeks, maybe never, for a response from Brasco to Sheena’s friend request. 

You pull up Google as a last ditch effort. The results bring up what only seems to be archives from your now-defunct city newspaper covering one of Nebraska’s record-setting games from 2005. You know to quit while you’re ahead until you see a Youtube video: “Nebraska Williams (RB) New Birth High School (MD). uploaded by Donyell Williams. You remember Donyell as this boy who played too damn much in Geometry class but right now, he’s Brasco’s cousin who's Instagram profile came up on the first search. Thank God his profile wasn’t private. You scroll back far enough to hit the jackpot. 

I found it! @donniebrascowill is his Instagram. 

Sheena was right about the dirt. His posts were bare but his stories carried enough. Enough shirtless, weightlifting, fresh-out-the-barbershop-got-to-show-you-the-fade dirt. You hit the follow button before the stewardess asked for your drink selection. 

End of Part I

[k3rm1e]

hey hey! it’s me 🥀 anon.. micheal x reader in 3rd grade ( being friends ofc:] ) 🙂 tommy’s daughter ( or gn reader any is cool😎 ) but reader beats up bully for making fun of micheal

friends

hey hey! it’s me 🥀 anon.. michael x reader in 3rd grade ( being friends ofc:] ) 🙂 tommy’s daughter ( or gn reader any is cool😎 ) but reader beats up bully for making fun of michael

hello 🥀 anon! apologies for the long wait, i have been doing things ;-;

but!!! i am here now with this so i hope you enjoy :D

cw: cursing 

friends:

  you hated him. you hated the small half-piglin half-zombie kid. it was unreasonable, he was your dad’s best friends’ kid. the infamous bench trio, with kids of their own. the legacy left behind, of fallen countries and terrible men, to fall on your shoulders.

  you always spoke with him. sat with him on the bus, at lunch, in class, sitting. talking. more of he spoke, you listened. even though the other students came to ask questions, they never stayed. the simple existence of two of you, two kids, with the parents you had was too much.

  the old stories of l’manburg, manburg, pogtopia, the infamous button room, the burnt mushroom house, the obsidian walls, logstedshire, the disc confrontation, pandora’s vault, all of it. every story, every tale, included your father. in history class you were stared at, you and the piglin boy. when students wanted to ask about the historical figures they learnt about, it was to the two of you. and you hated it.

  the attention, it was never on you. always him. whether it was from students, teachers, family, friends, hell, even the hecking sheep that belonged to the fading soul of a long gone man cared more for the kid. not even tommy, your father, paid more attention to you. he was always out, causing trouble even now. tubbo and ranboo, despite their efforts to keep michael safe, had somehow ended up with him becoming even more of a trouble maker than the three of them combined. you would much rather spend time with the fading soul, listening to his songs as you sat on the glass covering a crater. he claimed it gave him inspiration, to sit above the symphony he never finished.

  so, when you saw the small boy talking to others at lunch, you were conflicted. was it good, good he had gained more people, more friends? you never enjoyed sitting with him, having to listen to him speak for hours. he never even realized he was being annoying, causing trouble.  so, shouldn’t this have solved your problems? knocked them down the drain?

  and yet, you felt bad. staring at them on the playground, your soul hurt. you didn’t want to be like the fading soul, to feel like this. michael, turned to look behind him. the look on his face seeming like it was begging for you to walk over there. but you felt guilt. and so, you ran.

  “ghost!” you ran above the glass, making sure your steps weren’t too heavy footed.

  he looked up, from his sheet music and the guitar. “oh, hello. are you just getting back from school?” the area around was abandoned. after so many years of being near such a negative place, everyone left. deserted it. all that was left was the glass and the small, somehow still standing structures. at the very bottom of the pit was a sea of red, always growing but never moving, sitting dead yet alive.

  “yeah. it was a long day today. and i need advice. but first, do you have any music for me?” you sat in front of him, pulling out extra snacks from lunch out of your back.

  “music later, speak now. what’s wrong? do you need some blue?” anytime you seemed upset, ghost gave you blue. when tommy saw, he was nervous. more distant. you didn’t want him to see it, you didn’t want to drive him away. so, you used the dye for other things. your pants, your shirts hoodies, what ever could be dyed. all of it, a deep blue the color of old, burnt suits, used for a country few actually remembered.

  “no, no blue today, ghost. i still have some from last time, so thank you. and i need to ask a question. if i do not like someone, should i help them when they are in trouble?” you laid back, the cold of the glass hitting your neck.

  “it really depends, what has this person done? in the past, i’ve been wronged by others. heavily.” in his eyes, you could see the healing wounds that may never form, as he felt the blue wool in his hands. the memories of a father and a brother and a sheep, you could see them in the fading soul. 

  “i was helped, or at least he tried to help me. i didn’t like him. as far as my knowledge goes, he did not like me. he hurt those i loved. even so, he helped me. tried to save me. it backfired, badly. but he still tried. i owe him my gratitude, i wish i could repay him. for all he’s done.” he stared down, reminiscing. the ever living dying red shone in the setting sun.

  “so, to conclude, you should help him, in my opinion. i think its good, to help others, even when they’ve wronged you. build amends, y’know?” he looked down to you, who was sitting silently.

  “thanks ghost. can you play me something now?” you watched him sigh. you needed to think about what to do, how to go about this. slowly, you heard the faint sounds of a guitar begin.

  “the cute bomber jacket you've had since sixth form…”

  in the morning, you were ready. at school you pestered michael to no end, speaking when he didn’t. he looked sad? here’s some blue dye my friend gave me , its supposed to make you happy! it’s even the same color of that sheep you like. when the older boys tried to approach him at lunch, you ran with him over to the swings.

  “michael, push me on the swings! after i’ll push you and we can try to knock each other off!” he pushed you higher and higher and higher. piglins are stronger than you expected.

  for weeks, it was like this. constant talking. michael, despite his usual talkativeness, was quiet. it was tuesday, and you couldn’t find him anywhere. what if those boys were rude to him? is he gonna get hurt? he may be strong, but he’s small. you found him surrounded by taller boys in the corner.

  “hey!” you screamed at them, inwardly terrified. dad had always said to be strong so be strong, ‘don’t be a pussy’ he would say (in a joking manner of course).

  “the hell you gonna do, shortie?” on of the boys turned around, laughing at you.

  “go away!” the boys chuckled again and you felt the anger flow through you. “fuck off you pussies! you cunts!” you screamed at them, using words you’ve heard your dad say. you pushed them over and grabbed michael’s hand. time to run. the boys chased you throughout the woods as you made your way to the location. once you reached the small forest clearing, they were gone. you started walking with him to the crater.

  michael was silent before looking at you. “... why’d you help me? i thought you hated me.”

  “i... i don’t hate you. not anymore at least! i was mad for dumb reasons and found you annoying because of that. but now, i know that its fine.” you tried to explain your self to him.

  “i always talked to you because i don’t like talking to others. i didn’t want you to feel lonely. i know uncle tommy doesn’t talk with you much. he gets nervous.”

  this was new information. “why does dad get nervous?”

  “i think it has something to do with his own dad. he might be scared of being like him, disappointing you.”

  “...oh. i’m sorry. for being bad to you.”

  “it’s okay. we’re friends now, right?” he looked over to you, smiling.

  you stared down at him. “yeah, yeah we are.” after some silent walking, you arrived at the crater. ghost was sitting on the glass.

  “ghost!” you ran to him, dragging michael with him. “ghost, this is michael. michael, this is ghost.” you proudly stood, making michael shake hands with him. he visibly cringed at the coldness of ghost’s hand.

  “oh, hello michael. would you like some blue?”

  you all sat, talking. you told michael about ghost’s guitar skills and the two of you forced him to play you songs. you were friends now, and it would stay that way.

  when the sun went down and you got home, your parents were pissed. your dad was on his knees, crying. he held you in a hug around your waist. “why are you crying?”

  “i was so worried about you. don’t do that shit to me again, okay?” you looked up at you and held your face in his hands.

  “...okay dad. okay.” you bent down and hugged him as the fading soul watched from a distance.

late post tonight aaaaa

y’know, i really need to stop going off track from asks just to write found family type fluff 

but nonetheless, i hope you enjoyed 

also is it spelt michael or michEal bc on the dsmp wiki its michAel but idk??

[yinses]

ethereal lullaby 

| days, months, years… it didn’t matter. you were willing to wait a lifetime.|

siren!gojo satoru

rating: T ( yeah i know, surprised myself) 

a/n: not going to talk about me accepting this without understanding what a siren was. thank you to new friends for helping me not look like an idiot. took the friends to lovers approach because simp vibes. amen. i might do a sequel just to up the rating a bit because this already got so long. we’ll see. 

thanks to @kinbari14​ for the hc. it was a fun challenge. 

your parents tried to highlight the positives- how could they not after dragging their fifteen year old away from home. you were in the middle of your teenage years, just starting to hone confidence in your social skills. they told you it would be exciting. 

r_ight next to the ocean_, they coaxed as if you’d ever cared to swim.

sitting on the shores now with your toes curled in the sand, you wondered if your friends were missing you as much as you missed them. 

the moon full and bright, high enough to signal that it was well past your curfew. but your parents were more lenient this summer, trying anyway they could to smooth your transition. it was a brief allowance that you would take advantage of while you could. 

collecting the shoes at your feet, you sighed heavily, deciding that it was time to head back for the night. the more effort you made the easier it would pass through.

your back had just turned to the shores when you heard the sound- soft, melodic as it seemed to warm your ears. 

it sounded like a song, but you’d never heard anyone on the radio sound this good. the voice tickled your consciousness and you shook your head to fight away the haze. yet the cloud lingered, drifting down to your feet this time. 

it felt like you were walking on cotton candy, a jovial step, knocking your knees together as you put more distance between yourself and the house. a tinge of fear cooled your spine but the sensation wasn’t strong enough to sway the superior force. 

the closer you got the more you came to recognize the sound. not able to tie it to a specific person but certain that it was a person. it reminded you of the choir melodies from your old school but not even the star could compare. 

you were able to register the shift from sand to rocky gravel but not the sharp pinch as rocks dug into your feet. the song still carried you closer, around the bend and towards the mouth of a cave. 

despite every strand of common sense warning you not to, you crossed the threshold. the cavern played a devil’s advocate- enticing you with mystery while amplifying the the lyrics you still couldn’t place. 

the effort to figure it out didn’t seem worth it, nothing superseded the call. 

all too quick you reached the wide pool that spread out at the end and suddenly the song stopped. the splash of water at your feet was enough to startle your system, sending you reeling back as you tripped against the damp ground. 

something too intense to call an emotion trampled your ability to move as you were left frozen to watch as a figure pulled itself to the edge. 

the first thing you took in was the shock of white hair but that was nothing compared to the two turquoise pearls blinking up at you. 

“huh… you’re what i caught?”

 it almost sounded bored. 

the shrill of your scream drowned out the slow drawl of condescension. the- boy? hissed and shrank back, hand coming up to cover his ears. 

“no, no! stop. goddess that hurts.”

you instinctively go to kick back, but he is faster, something wet and slimly curling around your ankle. the grip draws you closer, uncaring of the way the unforgiving ground bit into your back. 

your lips part to scream again but the sound gets stuck at the sharp glare you receive. water continued to drip from the strands of his hair, the drops that met your skin were ice cold. he was close enough now that you could smell the salt from the sea against his skin. near enough that you almost lost yourself in the bright pools taking you in equally. 

his eyes track the motion as you lick your lips. “who are you?”

the hand that still ensnared you loosened to a soft caress as his fingertips traced your skin. as he did, you came to note that his wasn’t quite as smooth- something akin to glossy ridges.

you didn’t like when he hummed. not because the sound was unbearing, but because of the opposite. the pull wasn’t as powerful as before but there was no denying the source. 

“who are you?” he echoed back. 

when your eyes narrow, he shoots you a wicked grin full of sharp teeth. 

unable to do much else, you offer you name and find yourself surprised when he returns the gesture. 

“satoru.”

you try the name for yourself. neither of you can deny that it doesn’t fall quite the same from your lips. your gaze cuts down as he shifts again, revealing the bareness that stopped just short of his waistline. cheeks warming, you decided that his eyes were the lesser evil. 

“aren’t you cold?”

satoru’s head tilts at the question. “no … are you?” as if he could check, his thumb brushes against the sensitive side of your ankle. you can’t resist another kick, but he’s more than prepared. 

this time however, he doesn’t just hold it down, instead lifting it closer as he inspected your heel. 

“these were always peculiar to me. so many little appendages, yet too small to do much.”

these?

as if you enunciate your curiosity, your toes wiggle in response. the action prompts melodious laughter.

“what, and yours are better?”

the old battle of boys vs girls somehow melds into the bizarre situation. as if catching on to the challenge something akin to glee lights up in his eyes as he draws closer. but before he could accept the provocation, another voice breaks into the conversation. 

the voice is urgent, worried and carrying your name. 

astonished, satoru’s grip loosens enough for you to wiggle out as you scramble to your feet. his eyes narrow as he realizes this and he his arm shoots out to reclaim his prize. this time you’re faster though and step back. 

you don’t like the way he rises to this new dare as if he as prepared to intervene if necessary. 

“that’s my dad,” you explain, not sure if you should even be telling him this. “ i need to go.”

“no.”

your mind halts at the intensity behind command.

‘’what do you mean no? i’ll get in trouble. i’m already in trouble.”

the waters shift violently behind the boy as he raises onto his elbows as if to present a greater turbulence should you not heed. 

troubled, you bit your lips as your father’s voice carries near. it was only a hunch, but something told you that their meeting wouldn’t be a good thing. quickly you scramble for an alternative. 

“if you let me go now, i’ll come back and bring you something. its summertime so i have more freedom.”

though you felt your privileges dwindling the longer you lingered. 

satoru took too long to consider your offer and you began to question your chances of just running for it. 

“fine, but you better be back.”

relief filled your chest as you already turned towards the mouth of the cave. 

“yes! i promise. sooner than today though, i wont be able to be out this late again.”

you tried to give him a reassuring smile, but it wasn’t returned. there was distrust in his eyes but he didnt pursue. 

“when the sun sets then.” he adjured. and you were but a humble servant on the prince’s shores. 

“sunset,” you agreed as you broke into a run. 

the moment you broke free of the grotto you crashed into your father’s arms. the relief on his face was evident.

“there you are! why didn’t you answer, we were worried.”

his arms come around you and you realize you’re shaking. 

“jesus, you must be freezing. let’s get back before your mother sends out a search party.”

your arms encircle his waist as you let him drag you away. in one ear, you hear him start up a conversation about the neighborhood you had yet to explore to its fullest, tacking on a few names of children who belonged to some of his new coworkers. 

in the other, you heard the beginnings of a new song, one that didn’t seem to reach your father. and you didnt know what to do with that information.

sunset came all too soon the next day, the sun lowering just as dinner came to a close. you lingered close to your mother as you finished the last of the dishes. the tasks were dragging longer than needed, but no one would ever complain about them being extra clean. 

as you ran a rag over the porcelain you wondered what would happen if you didn’t show up. you couldn’t get the image of those teeth at of your head, the sharp glint gnawing into your dreams last night. they came off as an obvious threat but surely he couldn’t hurt you. 

then your mind drifted to that song. the same nameless lyrics that put you in the predicament in the first place. there was no denying that there was something going on there as well. just avoiding the cave wouldn’t be enough. 

all that was left was your curiosity, left to simmer under the plague of ‘what if’. the mysterious surrounding satoru wouldn’t leave you until you made good on your promise. the vow becoming something of a vice. 

with your mind made up, you turned to your mother. 

“do we have any mochi left?”

your parents hesitantly let you out with a curfew. you’d mentioned that you were held up late by a friend last time- to which your father questioned why you hadn’t mentioned it until now. they were obviously worried about your lack of agreeableness to reach out to the other kids so this initiative helped to ease their weariness. 

clutching the small container of sweet mango filled dough to your chest, you made your way back to the little cave. the distance traveled was kinder to you this time with shoes as you made haste down the gravel banks. 

uncertainty slowed your steps as you approached the widening curve of the stillness pool. depending on how you gauged the sun, you weren’t terribly late. it was technically still sunset. 

a mix of disappointment and relief swam in your gut as you came to the conclusion that your new acquaintance hadn’t met their own end of the deal. maybe his parents had also got onto him about being so late. 

it was probably for the best anyway. 

“what’s that?”

the volume of your scream made even you wince as the tupperware toppled to the ground. turning on your heel, you came face to face with satoru. you never heard the water part at his entrance. 

he wore a bored expression but there was a hint of a smile to his lips. this time he didnt scold you for shrieking, too interested in the container that had toppled near the shore. 

bringing your hand to your chest, you reasoned that scolding him would be useless. “its mochi.”

for once, it was his tongue that made the words sound off. apparently the rounded desserts werent part of his vocabulary. 

carefully easing onto the ground, you brought the container into your lap. 

“it’s my surprise. i hope you’re hungry.”

as you cracked the top, satoru move closer, nose twitching as the smell of mango drifted out. your mother had been all too happy to pack all the extras for you to share. 

you offered one.

satoru took it carefully, bringing it to his nose for another cautious sniff. you took in the point of his nails as he split the soft dough. he collected the orange the oozed out and brought it to his mouth. 

in the span of seconds, he devoured the entire bun in one bite and snatched the remaining from your hands. 

“this is good! i’ll excuse your lateness, this time.”

without the weight in your lap, you drew your knees to your chest as you watched on as he greedily ate one after the other. you considered warning him of the stomachache he would endure if he held the pace, but you decided that it would only fall on deaf ears. 

instead you ask,” so about those toes?”

it seemed like such a weird question to ask. equally as strange to satoru as he brow pinched. he brought his fingers to his mouth to clear away the stickiness. 

“what are those?”

an age old meme resonated within you and you waited with baited breath for him to carry the joke, but only silence drenched the space between you. 

pursing your lips, you shake your foot in reminder. “remember? apparently yours were better?”

“oh.” satoru’s lips smacked audibly as he polished off another bun. and as if it was the most natural thing in the world he shifted back, a bright blue tail that matched his eyes broke the surface. 

if you were sure before, you were certain he was going to eat you this time.

because you screamed again. 

satoru demanded that you bring him mochi everyday from then on for hurting his ears again. 

yes, everyday. 

there would be multiple days to instil the notion that you had met a mythical creature. you were still trying to assure yourself that you have been awake the whole time.

your parents no longer needed to worry about you making friends, because apparently you’d managed to befriend a merman. 

siren, satoru had hissed after bitting into a blueberry mochi. asking your mother to make mochi only worked for the first few visits. eventually her curiosity to win and lead you down a path you weren’t ready to accept yet. 

the trail leading to the acceptance that you were conversing with a fishman- boy.

lounging on your blanket, you had come to store little things for comfort around the cave. sunset rolled back a few hours to afternoon and before you knew it you were spending the majority of your days with satoru. 

“don’t your parents ever worry about you being gone so long?”

as usual, satoru was eating. he’d already finished the dango you had brought and moved on to the squid you’d turned down with barely restrained disgust. undeterred, he’d only shrugged and proceeded to gnaw off one of the tentacles. 

“no.” 

and that was that.

so instead you quizzed him on the mythical world you had and most humans were blind to. he talked about submerged cities, described aquatic creatures you could have never dreamed of if you tried and dissuaded your worst fears.

“so you don’t eat humans?”

“no we do. but i don’t want to eat you.”

you waited for the yet but it never came. satoru seemed content consuming whatever sugary treat you brought and sated the rest with whatever he caught swimming by. 

Eventually you let go of the imagery of ariel and her seaside romance and began to soak your free time in legends of beautiful sirens of the sea who took pleasure in drowning their victims. every story warned land dwellers from entering the waters, something you had never shown interest in doing nor had satoru pressured you.

“how old are you satoru?”

“how old are you?”

he always did this, answering questions with his own. it came to you that he might just be remaining within your boundaries to keep you from screaming at him again. a fair assumptions, but you were genuinely curious. 

“fifteen,” you offered, prepared to have the same response thrown back at you.

“sixteen.”

satoru raised a brow at your suspicion of disbelief. “i think i know how old i am.” 

and you couldn’t fault him for that. you just weren’t expecting him to be so young. sure he looked like he could have been a boy at your school aside from the freckled scales and obvious tail. 

“i beat you again, by the way.”

his words draw you from your thoughts. “huh?”

he swallows the remainder of a melon bun. 

“i’m older. so i win again.”

you roll your eyes. 

tail or not, apparently some things are the same. 

two weeks have passed before you realize he hasn’t sung for you since that day. the two of you often meet in the morning now, break for lunch and resume in the late evening. as far as your parents are concerned, you’re on the way to making a new best friend which will only be promising for when you start school. 

“you act all funny when i sing. its not meant for your pleasure anyway,” he adds. 

for once he’s not eating. he’s lying closer to you, tail still dipped under the water but more of his top half is lain out on the shore. when you try to give him a blanket to lie on to put something between himself and the rocks he gives you a funny look but concedes. now watching as he nuzzles into the the fabric of your cotton blanket, you hide a knowing grin. 

“but it sounds pretty, toru.”

when you had first tried out the nickname, you had hesitantly rushed it into a sentence. you were growing comfortable with the siren but the dangers were still present. like most things, it didn’t get past him and he grinned smugly but didn’t tease you further than that. 

you were grateful for that as it allowed you to become more comfortable with its usage, likely his intention. 

he hums in agreement, eyes sliding close as he readjusts. his tail follows the movement lowly, making small ripples. 

“can’t you sing in a way that wont affect me?”

satoru’s eyes flash up to you suddenly and your breath catches in your throat at the sudden shift in the mood. 

“no, because then it would be bad for me. if i cant control you then i cant drown you.”

you dont bring up how that would also be bad for you. 

you dont bring up his singing again. 

summer is edging near completion and your parents start to curb your outings. 

“you’ll see them more when school starts. if you dont start to getting to bed earlier now you’ll just make it worse for you.”

there is no way for you to explain how it will be harder to approach your situation to satoru. you were knowingly wedging yourself deeper with him. the first day you met him had marked a streak of possessiveness that kept drawing you back in. 

you weren’t just his friend. 

you were his. 

the thing he looked forward to each morning and regretted parting with each afternoon. you knew this for a fact, because you felt it too. 

“okay, i’m going to go a little earlier today. then”

your mother lets you go with a short kiss to your temple and a promise that you’ll return for lunch. 

satoru took the news about as well as you would expect. 

“you can’t go.”

letting your head fall back on your shoulders, you stared up at the small break in the grotto above. “i have to go to school, toru. if i dont go then ill get in trouble and if that happens then i definitely cant come back.”

you know he knows this too. satoru was smart. a species like his didnt survive this long unknown without intelligence. 

but then again, he let you in on the secret and it was too early to gauge the genius in that. 

you were more comfortable around each other now, legs bare as your feet dipped into the water. satoru still resumed his post on the shore, arms crossed by your hip as the white of his hair brushed against your thighs. 

he seemed to still be digesting the news which gave you the opportunity to probe again.

“i mean, surely you have stuff to do as well. what did you do before you met me?”

satoru deflected the question, head lolling to the side to rest against your skin. the slippery surface of the scales littering his cheek always felt like ice chips. 

“ate more stupid people.”

you’d asked about this of course. probably worrying your parents when you brought up with questions of drowning in the area. they seemed unsure before your father assured you that they wouldn’t have let you venture so close to the shore if that was a problem. 

so if satoru was indeed eating people like he said, it wasn’t from around here. 

part of you still felt like there was a bit of myth still lodged in his truth.

“so you can only meet me at sunset again?”

you make a noise of affirmation, hand raising as it hovers over his head. you had never actually touched it before but as it tickled the inside of your thigh the curiosity grew. before you talked yourself out of it, your hand dropped. 

his hair was silky, still damp but drying at a reasonable pace. his head moved under the weight of your hand, but it wasn’t to shake it off. you accepted the invitation and weaved your fingers further. 

“on most days. with homework i wont be able to everyday like this either.”

his loud groan rumbles against your leg and he slowly slinks back into the water. your hand clenches around the absence. 

“for every extra day you’re not here, you better bring me something great.”

its probably time for you to be going anyway. 

you go about collecting your things and tucking away what you could. when you finally stand, you trying to shake way the numbness that had settled. 

“we should probably figure out days, so you’re not always just here-”

“no need.”

satoru swam on his back for about half a meter, showing off his full length before his slipped under and reemerged at your feet. 

“when you come back i’ll be here.”

the two of you managed to meet a few more times before the first day of classes started. satoru was noticeably nicer to you, or atleast as pleasant as he could be. after finally realizing that you had no interest in dead aquatic animals, he began corralling live ones for you to view.

you realized that the two worlds had different names for a lot of things as he listed off various species and colors. you took a few of them with your phone before the idea hit you.

“hey, toru can i take a picture of you?”

he made a face like he might disagree. there was no need to explain the device as you’d already done plenty of show and tell. one of the earlier showings leaving you to soak your phone in rice for two whole days. 

eventually he shrugs and you snap a photo immediately after. 

the night sky begets a short flash, one that he winces at and moans in protest. but the picture is worth the complaint. 

he looks almost like a human boy wading in a pool- aside of the assortment of blueish scales to his cheeks. your only regret in that he’d closed one eye in reaction to the sudden light. there was a light frown to his face too but that was as genuine as it got. 

“let me take one of you.”

you were too surprised to deny him, wordlessly handing off your phone with less worry than you probably should have had. he handles it carefully though, biding by your instructions before you too were wincing away from the flash. 

the smile you get from him was better than anything you could have captured. 

“can i keep it?”

you laugh, “no, toru. but i can make you something you can.”

highschool was hard enough transitioning up with your junior classmates, the challenges of tackling your first year without out them met your expectations but not the worst of them. you learned quickly who to avoid and who you could be amicable with. 

being the new girl was an easier pill to swallow when you came equipped with a few stories from your past home. it gained the interest of a few which made a way from conversation to acquaintanceship. 

nothing was quite as exciting as your meeting with satoru but that was to be anticipated. 

satoru … unfortunately was seen less and less as the weeks went by. your parents were keen on you making a good first impression which meant a heavy emphasis on your school work. 

you mother had offered for you to invite your ‘friend’ over more than once, and invitation that had spanned since your early meeting. but the only thing harder than trying to explain that your satoru was a fish was to add that he was also a boy. 

your father might actually overlook the former in favor of the latter. 

so you were left to visit him on the weekends and thus compiled your allowance to purchase bigger treats and delicacies alike. 

his introduction to cake had a been a messy occurrence. naturally he would forgo the fork you brought to dig in with his fingers. 

satoru surprised you by asking about your schooling.

“what? it’s not like ive ever been around that many human before. sounds smelly.”

you laugh, because he’s not wrong. you go into detail about your different teachers and classmates, offering vivid retellings that you hadn't even shared with your parents. 

satoru hung onto every words, though not without crass comments and frequent jokes, his attention sent something new aflutter within you. 

“i can’t believe the year is almost over, toru.”

your hair is getting wet but you can’t be bothered to care. the two of you are resting from opposite directions with your heads on the bank. your eyes are trained on the pink hues above but your cognitive of satoru’s warmth and the feeling of his breath fanning against your cheek. 

it was nearing a year. a full eight months at your new school and a solid nine of knowing satoru. you were already planning something for your year anniversary. 

friends did that, right? it wasn’t weird just because he was a boy. 

speaking of boy, it didnt escape your knowledge that he was changing as time passed as well. he still held onto his boyish features but there was something different. 

“did i miss your birthday?”

“huh?” the question surprises even him as he tilts his head to look at you. 

time has made you better about not getting lost in his eyes, but it doesnt stop you from looking. not even the night sky can dim the ethereal shine. 

your shoulder shrugs against him, “you know, when you get a year older? you told me you were sixteen so obviously those add up.”

he blinks,”oh, yeah i’m already seventeen.”

you dont expect the shock to be painful. when you sudden sit up, satoru makes a sound of protest but you ignore it in favor of leaning over him. 

“you had a birthday and you didnt tell me?”

“i was here, you werent.”

he said it so matter of factly, as if it didnt pierce your heart with another blade. 

you dont notice the tears until the first drop meets his cheek. satoru recoils immediately face pulled in confusion. 

“why are you crying? you were at school.”

you knew you were a blubbering mess, snot slinging as you rub the back of your hand against your face uselessly. why was he so indifferent about it? did he not want you to celebrate with him?

“that doesn’t mean that i wouldn’t want to celebrate with you? am i not your friend, toru?”

satoru sits up at your question, rising to a height taller even as you sat side by side. you feel the gravel crumbling away from his palm before the skin of his hand. he doesnt seem to care about the wetness as his hand combs back to tuck away your hair. 

“youre my everything.”

it feels like it should be taken more seriously but the moment is cut short when he pulls away, huffing as he rinses his hand off in the water. 

“if you want to make it up to me, bring me something you’ve never brought me before.”

and then he smiles and your heart grows three times bigger.

you beg your parents to take you back home to sendai that weekend under the precipice of seeing your old friends. 

the next day you bring back kikufuku.

satoru says he’ll forgives you for the next five birthdays. 

you can only hope for more. 

as summer approaches again, so does your birthday. your parents had conveniently waited until two weeks after before laying out the news of your move. last year you celebrated with old friends, and this year some new. 

you still received some gifts from sendai. a plethora of little plushies and memories from the past. your new friendships here offered to throw you a small party, all gathered on your porch as you mother cut the cake.

you leaned into the kiss she life at the crown of your head, thanking her again for all the arrangements. 

“i wish your summer friend could have come.”

“i plan to meet them later so it’s okay!”

after seeing your distress about birthdays, satoru had made a note to take them more seriously this time. he didn’t care if you had school, demanding that you come to the grotto before the day ended. 

with a laugh you assured him that you were free and would meet at your usual time. it felt selfish to accept all your gifts and still crave whatever satoru had in store for you. much like you offered him, he promised to give you something new as well. 

he gave you plenty of things over the past few months, aside from knowledge, an exchange of different shells and things lost at sea. you were growing a nice little collection in your room. 

before leaving that evening after seeing off your friends, you took the time to make room on your shelf, prepared to add your new edition when you got home. 

a late additional gift from your parents was a reprieve on your curfew, as long as you didn’t push the limits too far. 

equipped with the best day ever that was only going to get better, you dashed towards the cave.

satoru had already drug out one of your blankets and spread it out for you. 

“had a good day?”

with a giddy grin, you plopped down next to him. “the best!”

he smiles back, hand reaching out to caresses your cheek. you lean into the touch without prompting. there was no doubt that he could feel the light buzz of anticipation under your skin. the sound of his laughter confirmed it. 

you bit your lips to try to contain it better as he took his time easing out of the water. you watched as the scales of his tail shimmered as he brought himself to sit next to you. for awhile the two of you just sat there as the sun dipped lower into the horizon. 

and then satoru parted his lips. 

and sang. 

you dont know anything about siren songs or have any hymn books to follow but there was something different about this song. satoru was always hesitant to speak about the songs, not at all interested in delving into the history. 

you were starting to wonder if this was why. 

there was no longer a sensation of compulsion. the strings that had tugged you to his doorstep all those months ago. this song dipped into your veins and soaked you in everything that was satoru but also a bit of yourself. this wordless song felt like a mixture of you both. 

it was both of you. 

“toru…”

the song didnt stop as his face neared. his nosed brushed along the curve of your jaw and your head tilts up on instinct. its an invitation that he accepts full heartily as he continues to mouth the sound against the column of your throat. 

the warmth under your skin felt as though it was burning when it came in contact with his constrasting temperature. 

for the first time, his song was audible. the a single word as his lips brushed against yours. 

your name.

the sensation of his chilled lips against yours prompted goosebumps- but the good kind you decided as you leaned in.