#i have to fight to remember that i do in fact enjoy yogurt and i can just mix it back together lmao

[waspsinyouryard]

So I got tagged in an ask game thing by @hotleafbeverage and felt like participating, but I'm making my own post because the reblog chain of the post I was tagged in is REALLY long and I don't think my answers are interesting enough to justify scrolling through a bunch of other responses just to read them, you know?

1. Name?

I don't really have a preferred name, actually. You can call me Tumblr User waspsinyouryard, or some nickname of your own choosing based off of it. I don't really care

2. Pronouns and gender?

I am agender. As for my pronouns?

3. Sexuality?

I am aroace

4. Country?

I live in the United States of America

5. Top 5 fandoms?

I read through the Wings of Fire and (the first 4 arcs of) Warriors book series a bit ago and enjoyed them. Sometimes I still think about the occasional joke or point of discussion for them. I much more recently read through the Percy Jackson and the Olympians books and enjoyed them well enough, even if I have since lost interest at Mark of Athena in Heroes of Olympus. I also played through Rhythm Heaven Fever a bit ago and enjoyed it, as well as currently being in the process of finishing Rhythm Heaven DS.

I wouldn't really consider myself to be a part of The Fandom of any of these things, but I guess I have enjoyed them so I'm in the fandom by default?

6. What is your Most forbidden snack?

I feel like molten metal might be tasty

7. Would you pet a bug?

My hands are obviously too large to pet a bug-sized bug, but if any mad scientists are out taking their massive bugs on a walk then I just might.

8. Share a weird fact/story about yourself with the class.

My oldest memory is being lowered on onto one of those diaper changing stations in a public bathroom by my mother. I don't remember anything before that. I don't remember anything after that for a good long while.

9. What does the color blue taste like?

I am not synesthetic enough to say anything more than the fact that sky blue probably tastes like yogurt.

10. What is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen?

Probably the most beautiful thing I have ever seen is the landscape in and around Yellowstone National Park.

11. What is the stupidest thing you've ever done?

In 2016ish I became one of those obnoxious internet atheists. I burned bridges because I was so desperate to debunk religion. I devoted so much of my time, energy, and personality into fighting against religion that even now, SEVEN YEARS LATER, there's still a massive hole in my personality that used to be filled with my all-consuming desire to prove that there are no gods.

12. Stupidest thing you've seen/heard someone else do/say?

Probably the stupidest person I've seen is Kevin from the Reddit Kevin Story. As for IRL, I honestly can't say. If someone does something idiotic, I'm just like "ok that was stupid of them" and then I don't think about it anymore.

13. Hyperfixation song?

I don't really know what this means so here's a small assortment of songs I've been varying degrees of obsessed with in no particular order (featuring YouTube links):

Are you Coming Home, Love MOM (World of Goo Soundtrack)

Best of Times (World of Goo Soundtrack)

Cog in the Machine (World of Goo Soundtrack)

Jelly (World of Goo Soundtrack)

Years of Work (World of Goo Soundtrack)

The City (Little Inferno Soundtrack)

And bliss everywhere bliss (Everywhere, an empty bliss)

Equinox eyes will stop (Everywhere, an empty bliss)

Loss of want back there (Everywhere, an empty bliss)

Basically the entirety of stages 4, 5, and 6 of Everywhere at the End of Time

Kick the Cart! (Noita OST Vol. 2)

Looting the Rainforest (Noita OST Vol. 3)

Old Magician's Last Wish (Noita OST Vol. 3)

14. Is there any meaning behind your profile picture and/or username?

There's no real reason why I chose the url I did, but I drew the PFP I did to fit with it.

15. Dream career as a child?

When I was a very young child, I wanted to be a cop. lol

16. Dream career as an adult?

I don't really dream of any type of labor specifically to be honest. Maybe if making mediocre posts to social media sites was a well-paying job..?

17. Thoughts on cilantro?

I don't actually have any thoughts on cilantro whatsoever. I have eaten it before but I still can't tell you if it tastes like soap or not to me.

18. Have you ever been banned from any location and if so, why?

I have not been banned from anywhere thus far

19. What is your cursed food combination?

Once upon a time I made a corn chip sandwich that was just a bunch of corn chips between two slices of bread. There are better ways of eating corn chips.

20. Trans rights?

Hell yeah!

Now I want to hear from

@anyone who wants to participate. I'm not tagging people because I don't know who I would tag and am scared of intruding even if I did

[mechanicalpoet]

CW for a lot of weight rambling.

Before my surgery in December, I’d told myself that I would get myself a mint hot chocolate from Starbucks after. Then I said I’d do it if my weight fell to under 130lbs. The morning of my surgery, I was 133 because I’d finished off my Christmas cookies the Friday before.

I spent two days preparing about two weeks’ snacks and meals so I would still be able to eat according to the list on my fridge — minus a little to account for the fact that I wouldn’t be moving much and might not have much appetite for a few days. I stayed in a hotel for two or three nights. I wouldn’t let myself have a ‘treat’ aside from flavoured yogurt until the morning after I got home. You’d think Actual Fucking Spinal surgery would warrant nothing but ice cream, but nope. Half a chocolate hazelnut muffin, but only after the scale confirmed that the two or three days of slow shuffling hadn’t thrown me back into ‘crying in fitting room’ size. It’s a fear I still have every time I get new clothes. I had to keep trying on bigger sizes last time I bought pants. I settled on a size 8, a size I haven’t worn since I was a teenager. It was hard not to panic when the 4 was too tight and the 6 was too tight. What if the 8 was too tight? Or the 10? Or the 16? Or the—

I’m a bit competitive, especially with myself. And I’m a bit of a control freak, especially with myself. It’s not a healthy combination.

I hit 130lbs. I did not get the mint hot chocolate. I told myself I would get one when I hit 128. And then 127. I hit 126.5, ate some cake, and spent two weeks fighting to bring it back down and feeling like a failure for every second of it.

I started staying at 126.5lbs. Which was so close to 125, I might as well get rid of that last little bit.

Twice, I hit 125.5lbs. Both those days, I was so hungry that all I wanted to do was cry and my ribs stuck out without me having to try.

I started eating more. I had to. I’d gone from shuffling from one end of the room to the other for a couple minutes at a time to clearing 5k by lunch. I don’t think I’ve walked less than 10k once since March. Moving keeps me from getting stiff, but it also keeps me from feeling full for long. Small stomach fast metabolism isn’t as fun as you’d think. 

I was 133lbs when I went into surgery. I was 150 at the start of COVID, 160 when I moved back home, 145 when I finished university, 140 when I finished high school, 120 before I went on hormones. 

All my old clothes fit me. I’m ordering smalls when I shop online. I don’t always hate what I see when I look in the mirror. I see other people living in their bodies and I tell myself it’s okay for me to do the same. But I still also see a missed target. I still see every snack, every desert as weakness. As failure. As something I didn’t really need. I hear every comment about the baklawa going right to your hips and being bad for enjoying pizza, I see every brownie recipe being called guilt-free, and I remember that enjoying things is a luxury I can’t have if my bones don’t stick out and my tummy is still soft and my butt still moves when I go up and down the stairs. I see the 3 in the middle of the scale and I tell myself that if I was better, it would still be a 2. 

And I would be miserable.

It’s hard for me to trust the system. I keep finding myself thinking that I’m smarter than it, that I can cut out just a bit and nobody will notice until three days later when my stomach is trying to tear itself open and I’m eating an entire jar of peanuts in my basement. It’s the stupidest and hardest problem I’ve ever had to claw my way through. Especially since I bite my nails super short.

I’m back up around 130. My ribs don’t stick out anymore. People say I look better. I still haven’t got that mint hot chocolate from Starbucks with full fat milk and too many pumps of syrup and whip cream, and maybe even chocolate shavings on top. I might never get it. It’ll stay somewhere on the list of things I want to make or places I want to try that I’m too scared to actually let myself enjoy. But I’m trying to enjoy these things as they come up and remind myself that I am not dictated by numbers. It’s a marathon, not a sprint, but I’m more of a distance walker these days anyway. 

[ptergwen]

through the lens

w/c: 2.3k

warnings: swearing and mentions of blood (all fluff tho!)

summary: yours and peter’s date night doesn’t go as planned, thanks to his “little” accident and mj’s photography project

a/n: it’s been a minute but i’m back! for now lol i promise i’ll be way more active when exam season is over <3 this was based off the lovely pic above taken by the even lovelier zendaya and i hope you enjoy these… let’s call it random workings of my mind

-

“hang on, can you come closer?” mj instructs you, you promptly stepping towards her. “is this good?” “great,” she affirms and squints behind the camera. “smile really big on the count of three, okay? one, two, three!” doing as she says, you give mj your cheesiest grin with your eyes squeezed shut and all. she snickers while snapping the moment on her polaroid.

mj asked you to be her subject for a photography project. you’re happy to do it, although it’s super last minute. like, barging-into-your-room-and-begging-you-for-help last minute. she was supposed to turn this in days ago. lucky for mj, her teacher was feeling generous and gave her an extension.

you have to work fast because of mj’s deadline and your plans with peter. he’s coming over for a movie marathon and cuddles right about now. well, he’s actually running a tad bit late. that’s typical peter for you.

“just a couple more, and then you’re free,” mj informs you while shaking out the polaroid. “this is honestly pretty fun, you know.” you glance at the photo she’s holding with an eyebrow quirked in surprise. she captures you well. “what made you choose me?” “no one else was free on a saturday,” she snorts and tosses the picture in a pile with the rest.

your mouth falls agape. “i’m not free! peter’s gonna be here in…” you check the time on your phone, much to your dismay. “he’s a few minutes late, but still. i have things to do, too.” a smirk sets on mj’s face as she gets ready for the next photograph. “relax, y/n/n. i was kidding. i’m sure spider-dweeb will be here sooner than you know it.” sighing lightheartedly, you take a seat on your bed.

“don’t call him that,” you shake your head. mj throws her own head back to the ceiling. “ugh, but that was a good one,” she insists, you only humming. “it’s better than penis parker, at least.” “nah, i like the alliteration,” you laugh out and earn a giggle from mj. “you’re lucky parker doesn’t have super hearing, or does he?” winking, you hit a pose for mj. you’re looking at her over your shoulder with smolder eyes.

“ask him yourself, after you get this shot.”

the two of you continue messing around with her polaroid until the film is almost gone, and peter has yet to arrive. you’re starting to worry. you aren’t sure where he could be.

he doesn’t patrol on weekends unless it’s an emergency, and he would’ve told you if there was one already. he’s never this late without sending a text, either. it’s almost an hour past when date night should’ve started. on the other occasions peter has gone off the grid, they didn’t end well.

“i’m freaking out, em. do you think he’s in some kind of trouble?” you ask mj, pacing around your bedroom. she offers a sympathetic shrug. “maybe he just ate some bad yogurt. remember last time?” being the dummy he is, peter once scarfed down an entire tub of vanilla yogurt before he realized it was expired. no one heard from him for days. he didn’t show up to school or answer any calls.

may ended up inviting you over and explaining he’d gotten a stomach bug, which you then tended to him for the rest of. the story was so amusing, and so peter.

“may doesn’t buy him dairy anymore. why do you think he always raids your freezer?” you bring your fingers up to rub your temples. “the kid can empty ice cream cartons in one bite,” she agrees, silently cringing. her curiosity piques at the fact. “is that also a power?” “who cares?” you nearly shout, your fingers curling into fists. “what i wanna know is if peter is fucking okay.”

on cue, there’s a knock at your apartment door. you and mj exchange looks of urgency, both rushing out of your room to answer.

mj follows you through the hall and stands by your side while you fumble with the lock. when your door pulls open, ned has his hand raised to knock again. “ned? what are you doing here?” you don’t give him the chance to speak. “have you heard from peter? he was supposed to be here a while ago, but he never showed.” rather than answering in words, ned takes a step aside.

the sight you’re met with makes you gasp. peter peeks out from behind him, cuts and bruises littering his flushed face. he gives you a lopsided smile.

“you have your answer,” mj murmurs to you and eyes ned curiously. he lets out a nervous chuckle. “here he is.” you push past ned and practically jump into peter’s arms, your hug bone-crushing. “peter, oh my god! are you okay?” wincing, peter hugs you back by your waist. his chin rests carefully on your head.

“hey… i’m alright, baby. still pretty sore, though,” he sucks his lower lip between his teeth. you take the hint to loosen your grip on him. “i was worried something bad might’ve happened to you. i… i guess i was right.” your tone softens, you threading a hand in his curls. they’re completely disheveled from whatever went down with him.

ned heads inside to catch up with mj, the two of them letting you have a moment alone.

“someone’s got a spidey sense of their own, huh?” peter tries to lighten the mood by joking. it doesn’t work, a frown still evident on your face as you try to untangle his once soft locks. “baby, everything’s fine. i just… had a little accident is all. no big deal,” he reassures you and moves in to peck your lips. you’re so shocked that you dodge the kiss.

“little? your whole face is black and blue, pete!” you tug on the white collar of his button up, peter letting out a shaky breath. your other hand comes to rest on his cheek, touch gentle. “how’d you get like this?” he licks across his lips shyly and sets his hands on your hips. “see, on the way over there were these bad guys who-“

“no there weren’t,” ned cuts in, scoffing at the beginning of his friend’s story. peter shoots him a warning look over your head. “yes there were, ned. you weren’t even there!” he catches mj glaring at him before he continues. “don’t listen to him. anyway, i had to fight them because…” when he trails off, you stroke your thumb across his cheek, avoiding any wounds in the way. raising both eyebrows, mj speaks up.

“because why? go on, parker. i’m intrigued,” she encourages him. everyone can tell peter is lying except you. the question really is, what’s he lying about? he gulps down his spit, pulling your body against his for comfort. “take your time, peter. we can wait,” you say only for him to hear. his love filled eyes meet yours, and he nods. ned huffs at the dramatics unfolding before him.

“dude, you’re making this way worse than it actually is. just tell her!” he demands, mj cocking her head to the side. peter’s gaze flits between the two of them. “tell me what?” you wonder softly and tilt his chin, willing him to look at you again. “i… i…” peter’s shoulders slump, his voice lowering in defeat. “there weren’t any bad guys.”

“of course there weren’t,” ned confirms. “no shit,” mj adds. exhaling, you wait for your boyfriend to further elaborate. “what really happened, then? be honest, pete.” peter lets go of you so he can come into your apartment properly, you shutting the door behind him. he scratches the back of his neck as he fills you in. “ok. um, me and ned were hanging out.”

ned is attempting to stifle a laugh for some reason, which mj elbows him for. you take one of peter’s hands. “yeah?” “we were at my place, and… you know those really slippery steps on the sixth floor?” peter pauses for someone to answer, playing with your fingers. “the ones flash almost wiped out on once?” mj questions in amusement. he lets a quiet chuckle out. “good times. yeah, those.”

his gaze averts to the ground, you listening on. “so, i was walking ned out on my way over. we were talking about spidey stuff-“ “as per usual,” mj mumbles to herself. ned raises his hands in defense. “—and i told ned i could always stick my landings. he didn’t believe me.” you playfully roll your eyes, seeing where this is going. “so… i, uh, decided to show him,” peter finishes off.

“i did a, um, backflip. tripped and fell down the flight of stairs,” he finally admits to you, putting his other hand on top of your intertwined ones. “clearly, i was wrong.” his bloody face is now red from humiliation. “you didn’t trip, dude. you freaking summersaulted!” ned corrects him and bursts into laughter he’s been holding back. “idiots, both of you,” mj simply remarks.

“that’s it? why didn’t you just say that?” you almost laugh yourself. groaning, peter rests his forehead against yours. “because it’s embarrassing! i wanted you to think i’m a tough guy or whatever.” placing both hands on his cheeks this time, you nuzzle your nose against his. “you don’t have to be a tough guy to impress me, babes. you’re kind, smart, funny. makes up for you being such a klutz.”

peter cracks a grin, easily capturing your lips in the kiss he didn’t get to before. it doesn’t last long because mj gags and ned whistles at you. you’re both giggling when you pull apart, peter kissing the tip of your nose for good measure.

“you really mean that?” he checks, tucking back a strand of hair from your face. “of course. i have a thing for himbos,” you tease and poke at his bare chest. his eyes widen. “how about i get you some ice and you find our first movie?” you’re already off to the kitchen, beaming at peter. “date night’s still on?” he happily plops down on your couch, mj showing ned her pictures from earlier.

“as soon as those two get out of here,” you call loudly enough so ned and mj hear you. “yeah, yeah. we’re leaving,” mj deadpans, shoving the photos back into her portfolio. peter glances over at it curiously. “what’s that for?” “photography project,” she says and gets an idea. “i have some film left. y/n took up most of it… you losers want the rest?”

while mj coerces her way to a higher grade, you put some popcorn in the microwave for your movie marathon.

“well, i could use a new lockscreen. i’m in!” ned quickly concedes. him and mj both give peter hopeful looks. “i’m not!” he protests, squishing one of your pillows against his chest. “with my face looking like… this? forget about it.” mj walks over to him and places her portfolio on the coffee table. “what? those gashes are gnarly… in a good way, i mean,” she promises.

“painful, too,” peter murmurs. “y/n, hurry up with that ice!” mj demands, grabbing the polaroid camera from its string around her neck. you wave her off. “what i’m saying is, they’ll look sick in my portfolio.” mj forces a smile, ned looking at her weirdly. “uh, what’s the theme of your project again?” “freestyle, baby,” mj casually replies.

peter comes up with a condition that could persuade him. “if you say please, i might consider it,” he concludes, mj perking up. “please be in my project. pretty please?” she instantly requests, ned pursing his lips from behind her. peter rubs his chin. “y/n, what do you think? should i?” you pipe in from the kitchen. “yeah, so she’ll leave my house.”

“you heard the lady. i’ll do it,” peter gives in. all but squealing, mj gestures for ned to sit. “this’ll only take a few minutes. you guys are really saving my ass.” ned gets comfortable next to peter on the couch, who wants to see how far mj will really go. “aw, we are? i believe that calls for a…” ned catches on. “it comes after please…” mj picks up her camera with gritted teeth. “thank you, morons. say cheese!”

that’s the only warning peter and ned get before they’re blinded with the flash. ned does a toothy grin as he leans into peter’s side. peter musters up the best smile he can, hair a mess and cuts burning pink on his face. satisfied, mj snatches the photograph as it pops out.

“pleasure doing business with you two,” she states, you joining the three of them in the living room. you set the popcorn on the table and give peter his ice pack. he presses it to his cheek, kissing the back of your hand. “send me that!” ned reminds mj, helping himself to your bowl of popcorn. she salutes him.

“there’s my star. what do you say, y/n? wanna take one more really quick?” mj suggests, already holding up her polaroid. you take the other cushion next to peter, your head on his shoulder. “can peter be in it with me? since he’s in the modeling mood tonight.” he wraps an arm tightly around you. “let’s do it, sweetness.”

eagerly jumping in front of you two, mj crouches down to get a better angle. “on the count of three. one, two, three!” the camera clicks, and you surprise peter by laying a smooch on one of his cheeks. he’s holding the ice against his other, genuinely smiling for this picture. ned coos at you, mj showing off her work when it dries.

“how adorable,” she says sarcastically but means it. peter nods at her in appreciation, his lips brushing the side of your head. “what can i say, you’re a pro,” you compliment mj. “come on, em!” ned cheers through a mouthful of popcorn.

tonight was an unexpected and exciting mess, even if your date night did get crashed.

[hyaesia]

lately i just can’t get the idea of neil and eva at their high school prom (they left early and went to get greasy fast food tbh but this was like, before then) dancing the cupid shuffle in their embarrassing prom outfits. neil probably used his summer job money to buy a cravat because he wanted to feel fancy. eva is wearing a too-frilly hand me down dress from her sister and she can’t do her eyeliner for shit.

you have any random teenage neil and eva headcanons?

BWAHH THAT'S SO CUTE,,, eva w/ a super elaborately poofy dress she got from traci is so cute. AND NEIL PUTTING HIS ENTIRE SAVINGS INTO A CRAVAT...SOBS

gosh in terms of my headcanons... the easiest way to do this would probably be a bullet list

after IF, everything i really thought about their dynamic was totally flipped on its head. especially for their teenage years.

before i thought neil was the effortlessly smart one while eva studied 24/7, but now i see it the other way around (tho that's basically canon)

eva was a whole lot more bubbly growing up! maybe not extroverted, but i think she only started closing herself off after joining sigcorp (can you blame her?)

i think neil's always had lynri's cold wit, but he only adopted the more loud and snarky personality in adulthood. perhaps it had something to do with cheering up eva...

in terms of prom i feel like...neither of them would care all too much? i think they'd go together just to be able to say they went lmao.

i also think they'd go as friends and genuinely mean that, something tells me the whole feelings tango didn't start until they had jobs lmao (as much as i love the idea of neil just. pining for 20 years)

quincy would probably annoy neil about it. not a lot, he respects their friendship ofc, and appreciates eva for sticking with neil more than anything, but still. it's easy teasing territory

i read a fic one time where neil went to prom in a tuxedo tshirt. no matter what i can't shake that image from my mind so it's real to me

as you said, eva'd wear a super elaborate hand-me-down. i think traci would also do her hair all fancy. basically she's all dolled up and doesn't care to fight against it

they'd go and then sneak out the second the slow dance starts. maybe they'd get frozen yogurt afterwards or something

this one seems random but i need it to add context: during the wedding in IF there's a couple of sillhouetted figures. these could be eva's family but...why wouldn't neil remember them? ofc the simple answer is that freebird didn't want to sprite characters who appear once like that but...idk it strikes me as odd

that leads me to believe that neil's never really been around eva's family growing up, or even her house. they always wordlessly go to his place to hang out. idk but i'll throw that thought out to u guys

so anyways all that's just a really long way to say that i think they'd go back to neil's. maybe quincy left them some premade food knowing they'd probably ditch early

beyond prom uhh... despite what a lot of the fandom thinks, i feel like they went to different colleges/universities after graduating

i have some thoughts on how they met again but i'm planning on illustrating those some day, so mayhaps i will stay quiet for now

anyways whoosh ^^; enjoy the thought dump!! and thank u for the ask!! i always love endlessly rambling about these two, and i love hearing other people do that even more! i rlly do think there's something so fun abt the fact that everyone in this fandom has totally different readings on their lives

[doctorstethoscope]

Fighting Crime || A. Hotchner & Reader

Back at it again with another one shot for @ssahotchswife ‘s soft Hotch Saturday! No smut this week sorry folks. 

Warnings: alcohol consumption, canon-typical mentions of kidnapping/violence, pregnancy, suggestive content

Word count: 1.7k

You finished your paperwork first, which wasn’t unusual. Gathering up your files, you trekked up the steps and knocked twice on the door to Aaron’s office before letting yourself in. 

“This is done,” you said, extending the folder towards him. “And luckily for you, I left out the logs of what exactly occurred in my hotel room between the hours of 12:38AM and--” 

“Trust me, my memory is plenty fresh on that.” He smirked up at you. 

“JJ and Penelope have called for a celebration of our heroism at the bar tonight,” you informed Aaron, who peeked over your shoulder at the clock hanging on his office wall. It was 4pm.  “We can have a couple drinks and still get Jack for dinner. It’ll be good to have some non-work related adult time.” You told him, 

“I think that if you refer to the log of what happened in your hotel room at 12:38AM, you’ll find my preferred non work related adult---”

“Aaron!” You cut him off with a laugh, and your smile seemed to relieve some of the tension in  his jaw.

“You go ahead,” he tells you. “I’ll see what I can do here. Either way, I’ll come pick you up and we can get Jack together.” 

“Okay boss,” you smiled, leaving his office to go check on Spencer, who usually finished around the same time as you. 

“I’m going to be a little while longer,” he sighs. “Why don’t you go to the bar and grab our booth?” He suggested, and you took his advice. 

It had been a long case, but a successful one-- the unsub confessed, and none of the hostages were hurt, so it was one worth celebrating for sure. You walked over to the team’s normal spot, enjoying the warmth of the DC sun on your face. Jimmy, the bartender, spots you as soon as you make your way into the bar. 

“Hey, princess!” He calls out to you with a smile.

“Hi Jimmy,” you greet him as you slide into a barstool 

“What are you doing here all by yourself?” He asks as he slides you your usual-- a vodka tonic with lime.

“I’m just getting a headstart. The rest of the team will be here soon, so I’m going to grab our booth before it gets crowded.” You explain to him.

“Okay doll, I’ll be by to check on you in a little bit.”

True to his word, Jimmy swung by with another vodka tonic about fifteen minutes later, and JJ walked in shortly afterwards. 

“Damn, you beat boy genius!” You congratulated her.

“I know, it has to be a new personal best,” she agrees with a laugh as Jimmy reappears, placing two shots on the table for you both. 

“Cheers to a successful case” you smiled, extending your shot glass in her direction. She bit her lip. 

“Oh, I’m not drinking tonight, actually,” she tells you.

“You’re pregnant!” You exclaimed, downing your shot. 

“How did you know?” She asked, laughing as she passes you her shot.

“Well, I didn’t, but it was a good guess.” 

“I’m not really ready to tell the whole team yet.” She tells you shyly, and you’re quick to reassure her. 

“Of course, Jayje. They won’t hear it from me.”

“Thank you. Now take that, because they’re coming and they need to think I drank it.” She says, gesturing to her shot. You downed it quickly before the rest of the team could make it to the table. 

“Ladies, ladies, you started without me?” Derek grinned as he slid into the booth next to JJ. 

You were pleasantly surprised to see Aaron slip in next to you. You took his hand and squeezed it in your own before kissing the back of it. “I thought for sure you’d be holed up in your office to avoid this,” you confessed. 

“Yeah, well, my girlfriend is a cute drunk,” he said, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek and taking advantage of the proximity to whisper, “and I caught you drinking for two.”

You and Aaron were coming up on a year of dating, and had told the team a few months back. There was a novelty to being a couple in front of the people you loved most, somehow even more exciting than the sneaking around them, that hadn’t worn off yet. Aaron wrapped his arm around your shoulders and you put a hand on his thigh as Spencer and Emily went to get another round of drinks. 

“No one knows yet,” You whispered back to Aaron, but you knew he would keep JJ’s secret. He was good like that.

You attempt to keep up with the flow of conversation, but between the cocktails and the shots, you’re beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol, particularly on your empty stomach. Emily and Spencer return and pass you another vodka tonic, and you make a silent determination to nurse this one more slowly. You tilt your chin up towards Aaron, who is listening to Penelope tell Spencer about the new frozen yogurt place that opened up by her apartment.

“You okay?” He asked, lowly, so no one else would hear. 

“Yeah,” you smiled back up at him.

“You’re drunk.” He states, chuckling at you.

“Noooo,” you argued, drunkenly. Luckily, Derek saves you from yourself. 

“Hotchner, you can’t monopolize her just because she’s your girl now. We all remember who took care of her when she first got here.” He teases Aaron, and you laugh. It was true. Aaron had been hard on you at the beginning, but Morgan took you under his wing. He took good care of you. “Come on pretty thing, we’re dancing.” Derek extends his hand towards you, and you see Emily and Penelope waiting for you as well. 

You sat up, untangling yourself from Aaron before giving him a quick peck, grabbing your drink, and practically racing the three of them to the dance floor. It felt like college, in all the best ways. The job was so stressful, and you didn’t let yourself get away from it nearly enough. Throwing your arms up in the air with Emily, letting Morgan catch you when you stumbled, and laughing with Garcia as she brought you another shot of who-knows-what, it felt like the Friday night after you turned in a term paper. Total bliss, fuck the consequences. 

“Guys, we have a case. It’s urgent, and it’s bad.” JJ came to pull you all off of the dance floor. 

Well, so much for fuck the consequences. You put a hand on Morgan’s wrist, a silent sign for him to support you-- you weren’t even sure if you could make it back to the office without stumbling. He placed a hand on the small of your back and guided you out of the bar, where the team was waiting in the street. You reached for Aaron and linked your arm with his. Even with his support, you stumbled at the brisk pace and the uneven ground of the cobblestones downtown.

“You can’t work like this,” he said once you were back in the elevator at Quantico. He wasn’t judging you or being mean-- but as both your supervisor and your boyfriend, he was concerned. “Maybe Jess can swing by and take you home, you can read Jack his bedtime story and sleep some of this off--” He said, as you all stepped out of the elevator and back into the office.

“Noo, Aaron!” You whined. “I want to fight crime!” You protested, pouting. If there was any doubt that you were drunk before, it was gone now. You heard Emily stifle a laugh from somewhere behind you. 

“Hotch, you’re going to send her home just to have her take a nap to sober up and then meet us out there? That doesn’t make any sense,” Morgan argues, but there’s no bite behind it. 

“Yeah, plus you need me to help you fight crime,” You add helpfully as Aaron directed you to your desk and all but placed you in your chair. 

“It’s a four hour flight. She can sleep on the plane,” JJ suggests as she brings you a cup of coffee, which you sip on gratefully. 

You could tell, even in your drunken state, that Aaron was torn, and you felt bad. As your supervisor, he knew he should send you home. As your boyfriend, he would certainly feel better if you were nearby, not to mention the fact that leaving you here meant you’d have to fly commercial to Montana the next morning, not on the safety of the team’s jet. He took a deep breath before making a determination. 

“You are going to eat something now, when we brief, and then you are going to sleep on the plane. You will not go into the field or to the crime scene until I say so. You will go straight to the police precinct, talk to no one, and start on the geographic profile with Reid. Is that clear?” 

“Yes sir,” you squeaked out, and the team erupted in giggles.

“Good girl,” he whispered for only you to hear.

45 minutes later, you had all but inhaled the fast food that Reid had brought you, and you were following Aaron out to the jet. You were the first ones on, and Aaron led you over to the couch, foregoing his normal spot for one where you’d be more comfortable sleeping. He pulled your favorite throw blanket out of your go-bag and covered you up, your head in his lap and your legs splayed out over the other end of the couch, 

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, and he pushed a stray piece of hair out of your face.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he tells you. “You didn’t know we would be called on another case.” 

“I know. That didn’t make it any easier on you, though.” 

“You shouldn’t worry about me so much,” he’s quick to correct you. 

“Says the man who’s letting me sleep my drunkenness off on an FBI jet so that he doesn’t have to let me out of his sight,” you teased him.

“Well, you wanted to fight crime so badly. How could I say no?” He smiled down at you. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. Get some sleep.”

[supremeinlilac]

Into the light (I'll hold you)

Pairing: Coven!Cordelia Goode x Fem!Reader

Prompt: Slow dancing in the greenhouse.

Word Count: 2557

Warnings: Self doubt, angst.

A/n: Canon divergent, H*nk doesn't exist and Delia's acid attack never happened, although she has still had the Sight previously. Was saving this fic but fuck it, I'm posting it now😌

Halloween.

The night of eerie suspense and the lingering sense of being watched. You enjoyed the days festivities when you were younger, skipping excitedly door to door under a white sheet with your friends.

This Halloween would be your second at Miss Robichaux’s, the first you’d all gone out to a party and got a little too drunk, returning to an irritated Ms Goode. It had been the first time you’d kissed her, and she’d rejected you because of the state you’d been in.

Still, it was the night that had started the path of your relationship with the headmistress.

You loved Halloween.

This year, Fiona Goode, reigning Supreme, returned to the academy. You were instantly weary of her, due to the fact Delia never liked to bring her mother up in conversation of her past. When you’d overheard her telling your girlfriend that she was wasted potential in the school, a prickle of icy anger called the hair at the nape of your neck to stand rigid.

You and the rest of the witches had decided to stay in, watch films and play games. It wasn’t often that everyone could get together to celebrate an evening where witches were celebrated, so they wanted to make the most of the friendly atmosphere that surrounded them. It never lasted long in the coven.

Fiona went out to a bar, her witches hat crooked atop her head and you found yourself glaring at her as she left. The woman alit a flame inside you, one that easily spread and engulfed your powers, fire licking hotly at the tips of your fingers and threatened to overpower you.

Cordelia had stayed behind with you, much to her mother protest, to have a quiet night while the rest of the hubbub would be concentrated in the living room. You were both wrong to think that there’d be no disturbances.

The shattering of glass fractured the silence in your shared room with Cordelia. She’d been braiding your hair, an intimacy that the pair of you rarely found time to do together. She hummed the song you were sung as a child, a habit that she’d picked up in your time at the coven, the action now second nature. It no longer only served to soothe you, but now it brought her comfort too.

Her fingers stilled in your hair, head snapping to the door. You heard a couple of loud thuds and shouts, and then her hand was clutching yours protectively.

“Hey Cordelia?” You heard Queenie shout up the stairs, “you best look outside.”

She was off the bed like it had burned her, drawing the curtains back to show the slow advance of the people outside. You heard her shaky inhale, before she fisted her hands in her trousers and turned to you.

“It’s just the locals. Playing tricks on us, you know how Madison likes to irritate them the rest of the year. Lord knows we’re not the best neighbours,” her face looked serious but the waver in her voice betrayed her. She sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than you.

It had been a blur after that, shouting and running, and Cordelia slipped out of your grasp. You’d been fighting, had a kitchen knife pressed into your hand by, Zoe, maybe? No. It had been one of the other girls.

They wouldn’t die, those zombies, if that’s even what they were. You’d slashed at a part of them that they shouldn’t have been able to get back up from. Yet it did, limbs flailing and reaching spindly towards you.

Knocked to the ground, you think you must have passed out. But not before you’d seen Cordelia trying to defend the house, eyes furious and scared and dark.

You remembered the purr of the chainsaw, the splatter of blood. The silence that hung after.

The next day you found Cordelia sat at her usual bench in the greenhouse, frows furrowed in concentration as she mixed ingredients with the gentle crack of test tubes and vials. You could see the anguish behind hooded eyes, it was clear that she’d been restless last night, down here long past when everyone else slept.

You had seen her from your window as you’d been drawing the curtains the night before, standing over the pile of haphazardly thrown bodies of the zombies. You weren’t sure how long she’d spent there, not wanting to disturb her until now.

She’d also been absent at both breakfast and dinner, with the excuse of paperwork, but you could see through the thinly veiled lie. You brought her a sandwich and a yogurt, setting them down on a bench before pulling a chair up beside her to watch her work.

Cordelia could mix potions and restore plants without thinking, her craft a lovingly perfected dance in which he moved around the greenhouse with practised ease, plucking vials off the shelves and balancing glassware in steady hands.

Her hands shook. Slightly, almost unnoticeable was the small tremor but it indicated her unease. There was blood still crusted under her fingernails.

You softly coaxed her to put the glass down with fingers around her wrists, guiding her to look at you before lazily lacing your fingers together. She whispered a greeting with a small smile, almost as if she hadn’t registered your presence until you’d touched her.

“I feel like I failed everyone. My girls.” Her voice cracked languidly, eyes falling to where your hands joined on her lap, her nails scraping at your skin nervously. “How can I be headmistress when I cannot protect you all?”

“It’s not your job to do it all alone.” You reminded her gently, thumb brushing over whitened knuckles, following the dip and contour of her skin. “Cordelia.”

A single droplet of shimmering water does not sink a ship. A single cloud cannot shield the sun. A single parent could spend years doubting their worth, unaware that it takes a village to raise a child.

No single person can bear the weight of the world’s troubles without crumbling.

Not even Cordelia, whom you thought could harness the sun if she willed it, could do everything herself. It simply was an unrealistic expectation that her mother had used to weigh her down with.

“Look at me, baby. You are not alone, okay?”

When her head lifted slowly, the light caught the water in her eyelashes, diamond tears shimmering and rolling down the curve of reddened cheeks. You were quick to coo at her, hand coming to cradle her face so you could lean to kiss them away, salt on your tongue.

She shook her head, refusing to look at you and you felt hopeless, like a bystander on the site of an accident. As much as you tried to couldn’t get close enough to her to help, to comfort her as she needed. Running in a dream, tripping over a mere breath and wading through syrup as you tried to escape.

“I’m a failure.”

You found yourself shaking your head, the phantom of a protest falling from your lips, how could Cordelia think that.

“Everything that Fiona says is true.” She continued, head falling into her arms on the desk. Your hand rested on her back, a gentle reminder of the comfort you could give her if only she asked for it. If only she would accept it when you would give it to her anyway.

“I don’t belong here.” Whispered from under her hair which hid her.

Cordelia didn’t realise her own worth, and you wondered if anyone ever truly does.

Does the night sky know its beauty? Or does it envy the blue of the day? Does it wait for the sun to kiss its head and grant it eternity. The night sky is rich with light, if it would only look deep enough within itself to find it. Burning stars and planets reflecting the sun, a kaleidoscope of colour on an ebony canvas.

Cordelia would often look at pictures of her absent mother when she believed to be alone. She was secretly envious of Fiona’s effortless graceful command and hold that she had over the whole coven. She believed her own magical abilities to be inferior to that of the Supreme’s, but it was an unfair comparison, for a Supreme would always persist.

She thought that it meant hers weren’t strong enough, scared for eventualities like the previous night, that she would fail at the role of protector. But she hadn’t failed, she’d fought just like you and Zoe, and it was just the luck of the draw that Zoe’s fear would trigger her Power Negation.

But Cordelia held such raw natural, burning potential that you’d habitually find yourself staring as she practised spells. Eyes following the deft flow of her fingers as she’d manipulate movement. She’d had the second sight within her, so at least on a subconscious level she must know her power.

“You belong here. And look around you, look at this place. Yourgreenhouse.”

“You made it into what it’s become. It’s you.” You spoke, letting yourself spin to appreciate all the work she’d put into this place, into herself.

Cordelia lifted her head, hair falling from her eyes and crowning her face as she followed your gaze to the hanging planters, the glass vials. To the floor that she’d swept only days ago, leaves starting to litter the stone again.

She watched you run fingertips over the exposed brick on the wall, your attention solely on her work around you. She could see the adoration in the iris’ of your eyes, alight with your honesty. You gaze returning, always, to her as you walked to her.

Tentatively, you reached out for her. Was she yet ready to accept your help, your love as you wanted to give it to her?

Still unsure, Cordelia shied away from your comforting touch, head returning to her hands.

“You don’t have to live behind Fiona’s words anymore.” You whispered into her temple, as if straight into her mind.

Sometimes it is easier to live in the shadows than to confront those who cast them.

She’d spent her whole life cowering in Fiona’s shadow, growth and development stunted from the lack of light. Self-belief fractured into a gaping crack.

She’d been trapped, dark and alone with a mother figure who didn’t love her in a way she understood how to be loved. They both loved each other then, and ove each other now, but sometimes mere love isn’t enough. It isn’t consistent enough to be safe. You can love someone and still hurt them.

You had spent time working on her confidence, creeping back into the light and into herself again. Breaking down the thoughts that had grown to immobile threatening walls that only served to block the light more.

All it had taken was one night of Fiona being back for all that progress to retreat back to where they’d been hidden. Cordelia had urged you then to back away, to leave her and grow by yourself, that she was only holding you back.

But you gritted your teeth and grinned in the face of the devil. You weren’t scared of the dark. And you’d be damned if you were leaving it without your girlfriend. Even if you had to start right back at the beginning, you’d help her to heal.

“You could be the next Supreme.” You urged, pulling her head from where it rested on the table, forcing her to look in your eyes and see your honesty.

“Don’t say things that aren’t true.” She begged, vision hazed by tears.

“But it is true, Delia. You’re so powerful.” You pressed, eyes conveying your severity like your voice couldn’t. Willing her to believe.

You reached to brush the tears that clung to her eyelashes before they fell and stained her face. A lingering kiss to her lips, the feeling of her lower lip wobbling between your own. In that moment, you could feel her fragility.

You didn’t want to push further, knowing that she may never truly believe in her full potential like you did. Instead, you pushed yourself to feet and bounced in front of her. She looked up in confusion, eyes still full with tears that caught the light, and you wanted nothing more than to kiss them away again. They didn’t deserve to dampen her skin.

“Dance with me?” You asked, standing and offering a hand the way you’d so often seen in movies.

A shy smile formed on the headmistress’ lips, cheeks pink and the tips of her ears flushed as she allowed herself to be pulled from her seat. Into the shine of the moonlight, which shone beams of liquid silver through the glass onto the hard stone and the soft of Cordelia.

Your arms secured themselves around her waist while hers stroked the back of your neck. Moments like this made you wonder if perhaps the cliché’s people told you about love had been true. Maybe this could be forever. It always felt like forever when you were in her arms.

You swayed to phantom music, slow and deliberate, soft touches and kisses on bare shoulders. You felt like even a whisper would shatter the perfect peace you’d enveloped you both in, sending ripples of doubt over the sheer water and to Cordelia again.

The moon felt like perfect company in that moment, like a third person, watching and waiting. A witness to the silent change.

Cordelia pressed her forehead to yours, her fingers splayed through the hair at the back of your head, holding you close. You could see the depth of her eyes, searching for the lie in yours that wasn’t there to find. You truly believed that she was the next Supreme, she had to be.

“Say something.” She breathed, hand on your waist dancing under the hem of your top, cold fingers on warm skin.

“Like what?” You asked, pulling back momentarily so you could smile at her. The hand that was behind your head tucked hair behind your ear and brought your hand from her shoulder so she could press lips to your knuckles. The ridge of bone under the soft of her skin and then she was hugging you again.

“Anything, I just want to hear your voice.”

So you told her about yourself. Stories she’d never heard and memories you’d thought you’d forgotten. Whispers of your past shared with your future.

She nuzzled her chin into the crook of your neck and listened, breathing deep the smell of your perfume that clung, lingering to the collar of your clothes.

A laugh.

Rippling up your throat at reminiscing a memory, vibration muffled against her ear at your jaw, and Cordelia swore that she could feelyour emotions. Truly feel you, and she realised that you couldn’t lie to her. Couldn’t will yourself to say something untrue just to still the aching beat of her heart within her chest.

You couldn’t make yourself want to mend her. You didn’t want that. You wanted to help her heal. Heal from her past that held less joy and laughter than yours did.

You wanted to help her create memories of her own, just like this.

Slow dancing in the greenhouse.

Dancing in the dark under the glow of the patient moon.

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[rouiyan]

𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘚 𝘚𝘏𝘐𝘙𝘛 𝘖𝘍 𝘏𝘐𝘚 [ 𝘭.𝘫𝘯 ]

⧏ part of the 2020 home for the holidays collective ⧐

synopsis: jeno decides that, this time around, he would rather risk heartbreak than love you in silence for seven more years.

✧ lee jeno x (fem.) reader) ✧ childhood best friends to loverz, next door neighbor au, (mentioned college au)

✧ genres : fluff, angst, slight comedy ✧ word count : 19.3k ✧ disclaimers : swearing, underage swearing (?), shirtless jeno, legal alcohol consumption

✧ author’s note — i am unsure as to why you would spend your christmas reading this heckin long fic, but in the case that you do, i hope that you enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it. it’s longest fic i’ve written thus far (though only by a hundred or so words) so happy reading <3 and i’ll see you around :D

jeno’s glad his mom’s asked him to go to the grocery store, a two minute walk away, to grab some eggs, a tub of sugar-free yogurt, and a breath of fresh air—the most welcome change of pace to his stuffy bedroom or the dust of the stale garage. he thinks he's the first of his high school graduating class to arrive back in town for the winter but it’s here at the store that jeno sees you for the first time in years. his hand, the right one, clutching an empty basket goes limp and he's two steps away from being fully unconcealed by the far end of the dairy aisle. surely, he must look like a creep with only his head peeping out.

it's been years. your hair is now a faded silvery brown, presumably dyed, and gathered into a messy ponytail. the ends of your hair fight with the hood of your sweatshirt, a distilled blue and loose fitting atop a pair of gray sweats. and the basket, looped upon your left elbow, is as empty as his own but you're overturning a can of condensed milk in your other hand, eyes scrutinizing the packaging for the expiration date, the later the better.

he would go and say hi, maybe even strike up a conversation, ask you how you’ve been, but he can’t bring himself to because he’s wearing that one bright green shirt from his seventh grade math competition that is certainly not up to your liking nor preference. really, it’s not that he thinks you'd judge him, knowing you, you’d probably get a good laugh from it and move on, but things have changed since then.

you are no longer the girl he walked to middle school with everyday in the mornings, in the afternoons. and jeno is no longer the boy that was the same height as you; the glasses are long gone and so is the thirteen year old boy who'd cried at his mom for telling him he'd have to go to a different high school than you. things are different and things have changed.

it was all this, paired with the gut feeling that if he went up to you, shirt stretched out like a muscle tee, he’d simply be cowering in your presence. jeno had not the faintest idea you’d be returning this winter since the last three years were spent without (and the four before, though that was only because he lacked the guts to ring the doorbell three houses down). he sticks his head back before you notice him. rerouting, he goes for a stroll in the chips aisle and then right back to the dairy after he sees the slightest indication of your sweatpant cuffs rounding the corner. 

jeno catches his breath there. he gets the goods and makes a beeline for the cash register, keeping his head down and nearly toppling into the display tower of canned corn along the way. the lovely granny at the register, with a nametag labeled 'poppy' on her pink cardigan, is kind enough to check up on his tattered state as she squints at the barcode to scan the yogurt, "young man, are you alright? you're panting awfully hard there."

he only realizes he's spaced out when she repeats with added concern, "sir? do you need some water or-"

"oh, no- i- no, thank you. i'm-" he clears his throat, a plastered smile to aid in his response, "i'm quite alright, thank you." she gives a faltering smile back, one meant to assure, as she discloses his total, "that'll be seven dollars and forty-eight cents." the items are bagged and handed over to him with a receipt. he's in the midst of giving the kind lady a nod in thanks, in the midst of turning and heading in the direction of the exit, in the midst of taking that first step to freedom, the land of no pressures, when he hears your voice from behind, "jeno? is that you?" 

well, shit. he swallows thickly. conscious of his every move, he turns deliberately, the plastic bag hanging, swinging to hit his knee and a hand coming up to the scruff of his neck. he turns to see you next in line, smiling and approaching him with paced steps. only, in his mind, it seems as if you are charging towards him at full speed. although conscious of his every move, jeno unconsciously takes a step back. "y- yeah, that's me."

you beam at the words, setting the basket on your hip as you empty the items onto the checkout conveyor belt. "gosh, i knew it!" he sees your favorite gummy worms, a pack of those flamin' hot cheeto fries which are admittedly too spicy for you to handle, both in the mix of what seems to be baking ingredients. dusting your hands off with two definitive swipes, you fist them and set them on your hips, an adorable pose if he were to be honest. hand falling to his side, jeno watches as a corner of your lip lifts into an emerging grin, "so, how have you been?"

he almost coughs as his words tumble their way into air, "i've been well, home for break, you know, from college and stuff." huh, he thinks, not a bad start.

apparently not because you giggle in turn, "well, obviously." the way you gesticulate your hands with each spoken word strikes familiarity within him. "you don't have to be so vague, jen, we were best friends at one point, remember?" the hand is back at his neck as if it never left, the nickname you had used making him squeak, "yeah, of course i remember." jeno watches as you stare for an awfully long time (two seconds) at his shirt. he knows you're just a thought away from commenting on it when dear mrs. pops clears her throat, a half-apologetic smile on her face, "your total will be sixty-four dollars and twelve cents." your eyes go wide, "oh shit- i mean, oh no!" you feel odd swearing around an elderly though you're really only muttering to yourself, "did i buy that much stuff?"

for some odd reason that he's unable to pinpoint just yet, jeno perks up at that and, seemingly involuntarily, offers, "i got you." he slips his wallet back out, eyeing the twenty dollar bill clutched in your hand. jeno holds out a fifty to mrs. poppy and she takes it before you can protest. you protest anyways, "jeno, wait- no, you don't need to- i could just take some stuff out, you know." he merely nods along, a small smile edging upwards on his lips. mrs. poppy hands you the change and your bagged items and you shove the bills towards jeno who, though no longer needed, is just standing there. he refuses with a shake of his head and hand in tandem, leading the way to the exit but before the two of you make it two steps, mrs. poppy smiles wide before mumbling, most likely meant to herself but discernible to your ears anyways, "looks like someone has a crush on you, dearie."

jeno's heart speeds erratically, again for reasons he has yet to comprehend, and his head snaps to make sure you hadn't heard what he'd just heard. eyes wide upon realizing you had, his head snaps back into place to avoid your teasing gaze. jeno utters a curt, "see you around," the second he's out the automated doors and speed walks to his car, the contents of the plastic bag jostling with each ushered step. 

the door to his pristine condition '93 chevrolet vette, his baby, shuts behind him. the grocery bag is set in the passenger's seat, mindlessly. jeno starts up the engine but stays put. he can see you across the parking lot, trying to find the keys to your hyundai kona, the white one that's now a certified gray. he chuckles.

he chuckles at the fact that it's been years upon years and you still have yet to fail to put a smile on his face. he chuckles at the fact that it's been years and your cheery, snarky persona has not changed one bit. he chuckles at the fact that he stills finds every aspect of you effortlessly charming, for so many and no reasons all at once. he chuckles at the fact that he still, still feels the need to impress you every chance he gets. perhaps, things haven't changed all that much.

"i'm home!"

shuffling off your shoes, you hear snippets of your mom's voice coming from the living room. a hand on the doorframe, you push yourself up, only to realize that she isn't even talking to you. rather, and upon entering the room, she's on the phone, unaware of your entrance and exclaiming into the jabbed speaker as she crochets a baby blue piece into existence. stepping into her line of vision, you give her a small smile in return to her nod of acknowledgement before moving on into the kitchen.

you've only just finished up with storing the flour into the pantry when you notice your mom has followed you into the kitchen as well, phone supposedly hung up. she sets her elbows, leaning, onto the counter as she watches you put away the baking goods. there's a glint in her eyes that you're wary of. sure enough, "guess what?"

"mom, i'm not interested in going on another blind date. not after what happened last time with that son of your cowork-"

"no, no, nothing like that," and though her words contradict what you thought was to be another stood up date, you're still on edge for the glint in her eyes has anything but subsided, "i was just going to inform you that mrs. lee's son is back in town."

your eye roll reverts itself halfway. crossing the room, you lean opposite of her on the counter. "you mean jeno?" she nods in slight confoundment. "yeah, i just saw him." your mother leans a little further and her voice comes out bordering a whisper though no one is around to hear but you and there's nothing scandalous to what she's saying, "mrs. lee tells me he's almost six feet tall! is that true?" you lean forward as well, not in interest, but in actuality to grab at the nutmeg extract. "pfft, as if. i'd say five eleven at best."

the humor in your eyes is enough to get your mom to defend her trusted source, "oh, i bet he's getting there." you shake your head, "he's twenty-one mom, i doubt he's still growing." turning your back on her to prop open the spice rack, her voice mumbles along, "you never know…" she relents and moves onwards to the next topic in line, eyes eager, "so, did you get to talk to him?" 

she's busying herself with tying up the plastic bags for later use as trash can liners when you turn back around, "i did but i mean, it was short," you gesture to the rest of the food you've yet to put away, "but he did pay for most of this." her face is drawn in teasing and she's about to comment on 'how sweet of him that was' when she realizes what you'd just said. "why? did you not have enough money?"

"no, i only brought a twent-"

she hits you lightly with a tied bag before sticking it in the compartment under the sink with a huff, "how dumb can you be to only bring twenty dollars to a grocery store? especially with all that junk food you always buy." now that's the motherly nagging you're more used to. but the teasing comes back soon after when you're upon exiting the kitchen in favor of changing out your clothes. "why don't i make some food for them so you have an excuse to pay him a visit?"

you very clearly remember your mother's propositions of your wedding all those years ago, after you'd gotten your first boyfriend. she didn't even really like him but it was enough that you did. she'd sworn her preparations were all neat and ready when you'd sat her down to tell her that you'd broken up with him. turning on your heel, your mother's eyes expectant, you give her a knowing shake of your head, a warning for ever since that first boyfriend, you'd refused to tell her a thing about your love life, a torturous prospect for her and just the right thing to ward off any of her coming interventions.

as for her incessant questions that were still sure to come, you supply her with this, "i'm sure he'll come visit us first!"

and in some way, you're right.

head and hands on the wheel, you let out the shakiest of breaths, and another and another until the air before you is laden thick with heat. you release the knuckle-white grip that held the wheel, the pads of your finger an angry red. sighing, you let yourself fall back in the seat with your sights set on the blinking red light under the speedometer, your ears ringing at the blaring alarm. another sigh escapes your lips, vaguely resembling a shudder, as you jerk the keys from the ignition. the red light and the alarm cease and you exit your car.

jeno nearly crashes as he turns the corner onto his street. he didn't expect to see you so soon after the horrid scene at the grocery store the other day, the other day being yesterday. he slows the car as he approaches your driveway, rolls down the window of the opposite seat and ducks, only to see you, hands fisted and on your hips, a similar stance to the one he'd seen yesterday; he blushes unknowingly. 

the purr of a nearing car sounds from behind and you whip around to catch the red finish of his vette as it comes to a stop along the sidewalk. tucking a lip under teeth, you cross the length of your driveway to meet the boy in the car. the crease in your brow unsettles him. he clears his throat, "hi, y/n. fancy seeing you around here."

"jeno, i live three houses down from you."

he's not in that green shirt anymore, thank goodness, and he'd prepared for this exact scenario with a slightly more put together outfit. the outfit consisting of a hoodie and sweatpants with his socks and sandals. but now that he thinks about it, he still feels slightly underprepared, "that's right…," he does his best to not sound unintelligent, "what happened there?"

"ahh," fisted hands are back on your hips and a war is brewing within him, fighting to keep his composure. you look back at your car, which looks fine to the eye, "apparently i have a flat tire and i-"

"were you driving when it happened?" jeno gets out of his car as he speaks, questions shooting like rapidfire, "was it on the freeway? how bad is it- wait no, are you injured?"

jeno and his furrowed brows are fast advancing on you and you take a step back in surprise but under the guise of moving back towards your car. genuinely, you weren't quite sure why you hadn't thought of jeno being a 'car person,' especially when that's exactly what his car tells of him. "i don't really know but the alarm went off right before i got off the freeway so nothing serious happened." the two of you tread down the side of your house, back up the driveway. "which one is it- oh, i see." jeno bends down the side of the rear left wheel, a solid smack and squeeze applied and he looks up and back at you, "a nail probably, you got a spare?"

you nod, "i'm pretty sure." crossing your legs you cock an eyebrow at him, at your suspicions. there's something about you being right about all your little inklings because he confirms them almost instantaneously, "i can fix it up for you then," a smile eases onto his face as yours perks up, "really? i mean you really don't have to, i can just go get it-"

"how are you gonna get the car to the shop then?"

and that's how jeno finds himself hauling the car jack from his garage, to yours while you cradle the tools needed in both hands, trailing behind him. he gets to work with the wheel cover as you maneuver around your own garage for the spare and when you find it, you sigh. sighs, seem to be very plentiful, maybe a preferred form of communication this one day. "jen," you wedge yourself back to the driveway between your mom's car and the built-in cabinets. jeno's eyes are focused upon the lug nuts but his eyebrows are raised in expectancy.

"gosh, i'm sorry, but it's- the spare's kinda heavy...do you mind? you know…" you feel bad for asking, almost reluctant but with a wave in the general direction of your hands, he gets it well enough, "oh, it's no problem. i'm here to help you anyways." jeno retrieves the tire with a smile on his face.

you stand off to the side and watch as he raises the back end of the car (seven inches, he said), removes the loosened lug nuts, pulls off the flattened tire, and pushes the spare into place. you give remarks and ask questions once and awhile, all of which must seem pretty dumb to him though he answers each one with a smile and a reassurance to make sure you've understood. tightening the bolt, replacing the tire cover, and lowering the car is done within minutes and he's left rubbing his sullied hands on the towel hung upon his shoulder.

jeno stands and looks over at you. the little complacent smile you've put to show tells a lot about how bothersome you feel in the moment. "you don't have to feel bad, y/n. i offered."

you nod as he packs up his things, blindly handing over the wrench and uttering a thank you in your daze. heading inside, you note that the heater is on and that the window next to the door offers a view of the busying boy. you watch as he leaves and you watch as he comes back again to drive his car up into his garage. 

there's something about your inclinations that you can't shake. either the fact that you haven't been home in three years is really getting to you, maybe you're just horny, or whatever is brewing in that head of yours is telling you that first loves stick with you even when they're gone, even when you've been given reasons to get over them, and even when you really are over them.

but when they're there, when he's there, in all his glory, there's only so much you can refuse.

thirteen-year-old donghyuck is a mean little shit, that we all know, and when he eventually pieces one and one together to make two, he's bound to act on it.

especially when one is the fact that you've been skipping out at lunch for "group project" reasons for the past two months and the other one is that jeno has also been skipping out at lunch for "club meeting" reasons, also for the past two months. he's dumbfounded at the fact that it's taken him this long to track the two of you down and he almost wants to laugh at the situation at hand. 

donghyuck guesses the slats of the bleachers block him out of your view, but he's certainly in the perfect spot to see the both of you, under the bleachers sitting atop jeno's jacket, meaning that there was barely a space in between you and him. his pride would have been hurt, after all his newest revelation comes in the discovery of his two best friends leaving him with jaemin and renjun during lunchtimes, also his best friends but he grumbles at the thought of being left with those two (one being a flirty little shit and the other an annoying little shit, not all that different from himself; you'd think he'd tone down his mean-ness after witnessing, firsthand, renjun's mirror antics).

a hand of yours is flipping through the pages of a textbook while the other holds a subway sandwich, at which he observes jeno to steal bites from every time you look away towards the book. the scene sprawls into a mess as you begin to notice when jeno tugs particularly hard at the string of cheese that's been pulled far too long. the boy gets a flick on the forehead and an impish smile forms; he almost looks elated to be caught by you. 

before he even knows it, donghyuck's onto something, and much more than something he can simply tease you about, oh no, this is the real deal. he reroutes his mind to the image he'd retired from—ducking his head back under the cover of the bush—to the image of you and jeno, smiley, giddy, and secluded from everyone else. the image of jeno and the little giggles he gives as red blossoms on his forehead from where you'd flicked him. and the image of you and your suppressed smile as you try to retain your thinly-veiled frustrations from him. this is it, his friends are falling in love. he's convinced and he also has now appointed himself as the wingman, the cupid in disguise.

the thing is, we're talking about donghyuck (mean little shit) here, not jaemin. so when jeno waltzes into his shared sixth period class, spewing some apparent nonsense of how his club meeting went, (perhaps something that you and him had mutually and meticulously coordinated), donghyuck sits him down in the seat next to him and leans in for a whisper, "i'm gonna ask out y/n today, what do you think?" 

jeno doesn't respond, he doesn't even seem to have remotely heard him. or if he did, he must've suddenly underwent a malfunction of sorts because the boy is quite literally just sitting there, staring listlessly at the empty beaker and the lab tools in front of him.

"jeno? are you hearing me?"

lee jeno, instead of feeling a sudden urge to race donghyuck to the finish line, to confess to you before he does, rather feels defeated, deflated, discouraged. donghyuck is a terrible judge of his character for he pushes on, "do you think i should do it right after school today or tomorrow?"

he gulps and while his eyes are still deep in rumination, his mouth is already squeaking the worries have come to haunt him in the last thirty seconds, "you like her?" donghyuck's eyes glint with mischief that the heavens wish jeno hadn't missed though fair enough, they think, because his thoughts are all over the place as donghyuck goes on to respond, "yeah, i've liked her for awhile now," sounds familiar," been wanting to tell her for the longest time," me too, "and i've been kinda scared to," well i'm scared shitless, "but i think i'm ready now," i'm not. 

"i think you should go for it," jeno deadpans, eyes still trained on the glass, 500 mL beaker that is very interesting.

donghyuck nearly jumps out of his seat, "wait what?!" 

"yeah, you should jus- why're you so surprised- no, why are you even asking me?" jeno finds it much easier to play the role of a supportive friend rather than a jealous rival. he thinks it was rather dumb of him to assume that he was the only one going after you all these months and that he could take his sweet time in confessing and growing your relationship. at least, that's usually how his classroom daydreams go. 

but at the same time, they only go that way because though it really has been a few long months, jeno knows that he's still a long way from making his sentiments known to you. he's a reliable kind of guy, who's reliance is often built upon trust. and while the little folder in his mind of all the possible telltale signs that you like him back has been steadily growing, he needs to know definitively for really, thirteen-year-old jeno lacks the courage. even more so now that his best friend, donghyuck, displays the exact courage he needs to confess. jeno figures that his folder must be gargantuan in comparison.

donghyuck doesn't confess to you, not at all, but he makes a show of rushing out the class right when the clock strikes three, leaving jeno to collapse into himself in utter despair. shoulders hunched over, he counts the minutes until he deems it safe to leave. his chair scrapes the floor with a resounding squeak as he stands up, the chemistry classroom now empty. running his fingers through his hair, he makes sure he doesn't cross paths with you as he navigates for the exit, purposely avoiding the area of the campus with your locker and last class. 

jeno makes it home with a heavy heart, far heavier than what could be the doing of any simple crush. stupid of him to think it a simple crush when the tug of his heart squelches and sqirms like there's no tomorrow, but it's only years after that he realizes the ache in his heart was the payoff of his first love.

he'll admit that he's never asked what actually happened that day, a part of him was terrified to even imagine the prospects of you and donghyuck being a thing. and even if that wasn't the case, he wasn't keen to risk it in the first place. 

so jeno cries on the night his mother bore him the news that he'd be transferring schools. he'd have friends there, sure, jaemin had made the same decision and chenle was to follow in the year after. he'd have the opportunity to make new friends, to start fresh as a high school student but the biggest problem he faced was that there would be no you.

no you to greet in the hallways two minutes before class as you rushed your books into your backpack, slamming your locker shut in a frenzy with your elbow. no you to catch dozing off in history, math, english, and probably all the other classes he didn't but wished he shared with you. no you to sneak off with during lunch, far from your noisy (and nosy) friends and a hair's distance apart from each other. no you to stare at when class gets a little too boring, to share an eraser with, to brush fingers with, to steal bites of a sandwich from.

jeno cries because he'll never get the chance to ask you to prom, he's quite sure you'd never want to attend another school's. he cries because he doubts he'll have the fortitude to text you on a daily, to text you at all, to keep in touch. he cries because in his eyes, the dwindling remainders of your relationship are coming to a close.

one day or another, it'll come to him that it was because of those very thoughts that they actually do.

"oh no, no you definitely planned for this to happen."

"did not!"

"so you're telling me that having me go three houses down to ask the boy that you just so happen to think is cute and the same age as your daughter to go tree shopping with me because you can't carry a tree and dad just so happens to be at work right when you desperately need the tree-" your rambling ceases abruptly as you struggle to find the correct structure of your question that, for emphasis purposes, had derailed itself, "...is all just happenstance?"

"yes," your mother has the straightest look on her face. you're sure she's having a hard time keeping it that way. "unbelievable." she keeps the straight face pretty well and the staring contest you're currently participating in with the snowman candle behind her is futile and broken as you grumble, "fine." your mother has the gall to lift her face into a smile almost immediately upon hearing that.

in all honesty, your reflection in the mirror looks pretty damn good. after spending the few of your days back home in tracksuits and large tees—a minimum effort outfit—dressing up a tad bit for today was certainly not a bad idea, your favorite green corduroy coat making its appearance in the december cold.

the same reflection can be seen in the glass of jeno's front door, the door that swings open right as you're about to ring the doorbell for the third time. his mother is the one who answers and she seems a great deal surprised. "y/n! oh wow, you've grown quite a bit since i last saw you."

you giggle with her, partially out of incredulity because of course you've grown, the last time you really saw her was at your middle school graduation. "it's nice to see you, mrs. lee." she opens the door wide, the smile on her face beaming just as wide, "i assume you're here to see jeno. let's see," the door shuts behind you, "he should be over in the garage," and she leads the way through the house, the layout teeming with renewed familiarity. 

"the garage is just down there, sweetie," pointing at the door far down the hall, to the left, "tell me if you guys need anything, okay?"

"will do," you give her a warm smile as she treads off.

pushing at the handle, you think first that jeno isn't there at all but then there's the sounds of metal clanking and his legs that are situated outwards from under one end of his car. in a fear to startle him with your presence, you decide upon a clearing of your throat and a small but sure, "jeno, it's me," to which he responds with a surprised grunt and the further clanking of his tools.

there's the squeaking of his mechanic's creeper before he draws himself straight before you. you nearly give a double take because, well because he's without a shirt, he's shirtless, he's half naked. however you want to put it, it's the dead of winter and he's standing there with his toned chest bare and glinting with sweat while the two of you furiously blush without even looking at each other.

"y/n," his voice comes out strained, "wha- what are you here for?" jeno fusses around hurriedly for a shirt, any shirt, any article of clothing, any piece of fabric. the shirt he eventually finds is almost enough to get him to put it back down but he's desperate. your eyes glimpse across his body once again, and entirely on accident, before he slips the bright green material over his head, your own head snapping in the other direction.

the two of you stand diagonally in opposition to each other, seemingly speaking to no one in particular, "i'm- i came to ask if you'd want to go christmas tree shopping with me? since i don't think i'd be able to by myself…?" you turn towards him, the tension in the air somewhat subsiding, the difference a mere shirt could make.

he stance is awfully rigid as he responds, "yeah, no yeah i can definitely go with you. right now though?"

"if it's not too much to ask of you then yes, right now."

"oh okay, i can do that, i jus-" jeno catches your line of vision dip down to his shirt, he squirms under your gaze, "-i, do you mind waiting for a bit while i get washed up?" eyes flitting back up to meet his, you nod fervently, "fine by me."

the shower runs in the background of your thoughts as you swing your legs off the side of jeno's bed, the same bed he had all those years ago that's sill littered with random pencil marks and stickers on the headboard. the walls adorn large prints of cars, none of which you can identify but you're intrigued nonetheless by how well his childhood room entwines his whole lifespan together. there's mvp trophies on the bookshelf just opposite of you and if you squint, you can see the fine print that spells 'lee jeno, 2015 varsity swim mvp.' a certificate on the wall titles his participation in some algebra competition, a few ribbons to demonstrate his scientific achievements, and a little under where those are pinned into the wall is a framed and familiar picture you haven't seen in a long while.

it's the five of you, eighth grade graduation, with mark behind the camera and chenle and jisung far off in the background. jeno's in the dead center with one arm draped around donghyuck and the other around you, though you're noticing for the first time how the arm around donghyuck falls limp while the arm around you is held tight. gears are turning and shifting in your mind but before you can come to any sort of conclusion on what that could possibly denote, the door to the bathroom on your left is held open.

jeno's dressed fittingly, you think, for christmas tree shopping that is. the green of his sweater matches the green of your jacket and jeno makes sure to comment on that as he reverses his car out of the driveway even though his choice in clothing was deliberately made to match your own. he catches a glimpse of your car in your own respective driveway on the way out the street and at that, he already has another conversation queued and in mind.

"you took your car to the shop, right?"

you find that your eyes dry out if you face them forward for too long, the heat blasting from the front is doing its job well enough. you don't complain though, jeno's just making sure it's not too cold in the car. "yeah, i went this morning. was also going to get it washed but my mom had other plans."

"other plans being making you go buy the tree, i'm guessing."

you click your tongue, "exactly."

silence hangs between the two of you as he veers into the freeway entrance, mulling over what to say next. bring two seven years disconnected best friends together and you'd think there'd be more to talk about but today must be an exception, the only other words exchanged being the following.

"you know, i could wash it for you."

"i've already asked you for too many favors."

"i mean," jeno gives a smile to the side, "you could help."

a smile of your own forms as you muse on, "i could."

"tomorrow?"

"tomorrow."

jeno pulls into a makeshift parking space for the vast christmas tree lot you've decided to buy from this year, your usual having moved further out of town disappointingly. although with all things considered, you doubt there's much of a difference between the trees that are leftover for the few days before christmas and as suspected, the selection isn't all that impressive.

your town and neighboring seemed to have taken a liking towards fraser firs this year, no surprise in that, which leaves the dilapidating alternatives of douglas and noble firs, both of which would be fine if one wasn't prone to browning in a week and the other wasn't so tall. jeno holds up the last of the trees up and you do your routine inspection by viewing it from three feet away to seven, and ten. the boy scrunches his nose as you give a shake of your head, "too full, how are we even gonna decorate it?" and he sets it back against the fencing with a huff, "now what?"

"now, we…," you're unsure as well, eyes roving across the farm to give any candidate of tree a second chance. that's when you're hit with a revelation, well two revelations. rather sardonically, the wilting pines of the trees lead you to the first of your revelations; you're quite literally standing in a tree graveyard and if you were to go so far as to compare it to a graveyard in itself, there comes the thought that you've came with the purpose of buying a poor, dead tree to take it home and prop it back up as if it were alive, dressing it and decorating it, only to throw it to the curb a few weeks later. funny how all your life that seemed perfectly rational.

but christmas is a tradition, and traditions don't necessarily have to die even though they're faulted from the start, certainly not if you can help it.

jeno gives an eensy yelp as in a sudden flurry, you take the sleeve of his sweater between two fingers and drag him down and through the aisles of decaying trees to find the very thing that'd ignite your little light bulb. he's dawdling behind you, best he can, as your steps quicken and stop almost as abruptly before a sizeable army of potted christmas trees, smaller but also more alive than the usual lot. "how's this then?"

"i'm on board," jeno's beside you now and ever-so-aware that your fingers are still gripping his sweater. it doesn't stop there, however, because now your hands are enveloping his arm in its entirety and you're speaking softly, "of course you are, you're not even needed anymore," the words coming close to his ears from the proximity you've set. they don't warrant a blush by any means and for certain, the reason he's blushing aren't the words, it's you.

you leave his side as you release your hold on his arm, though it seems as if he's the only one who notices. a few steps away, you crouch in front of one that suits your likings to a T. you barely notice jeno's presence behind you, reading off the tag and muttering to yourself, "sustainable, affordable, replantable, eco-friendly, a natural scent, convenient...oh boy, i think we get it." upon further observation you decide that this one's the one—the green is vibrant to the tips and it's just full enough that the pines poke out in all the directions needed to support a modest amount of tinsel. "jeno, i think this is it-"

really, you really really had no idea that he was right there, head right above your shoulder. if you had known, you wouldn't have turned your head in the first place, much less allowed your lips to brush his, however brief. evidently flustered, the two of you snap your sights back ahead, at the same time, with both your hearts beating at the same, turbulent pace. you bring a hand up to your lips, partially in shock and partially in the thought that you basically just kissed lee jeno.

"sorry about that, i didn't think you'd turn…"

even when he's speaking, you don't dare look over at him. but in comparison to the tempestuous replays you're imagining, jeno's thoughts rumble a deeper current than anything he's felt all winter break.

the pot of the chosen tree rests against his hip as he stands a little off to the side to let you pay. he watches you keenly and uses the opportunity to scrutinize what exactly about you makes him feel that one way. as of the late, he finds that none of his emotions are describable and it's frustrating to say the least when all he knows is that the cause of his inner turmoil is you. you and your little sniggers whenever his clumsy side acts out too much for his liking, you and your undeniable affection for all things sweet and all things spicy, and you and your fisted hands on your squared hips, a fighting stance perhaps, a ready-to-throw-hands stance most definitely.

but finally, he gives his feelings a name when he witnesses in the rear view mirror, you and the little smile that creases your eyes, lifts your cheeks, bares your teeth, as you strap in the potted plant to the back seat, giving it a gentle pat as if it were your own child. he names it 'the long lost crush, the one that got away, the second season of his middle school one-sided affair, the-'

"are we...gonna go?" 

jeno jumps in his seat, "huh? oh." hand on the gear stick, he avoids your gaze fervently and pulls out of the spot. there's a shift in the air, at least from his end, and he thinks it has something to do with how he's come to terms with the fact that he likes you, again. is he surprised? no. why not?

because he knows this much, the longer you're by his side, the less it can be helped. he remembers every night in high school when, even in the time the two of you'd stopped talking, he'd stare lethargically at his ceiling before he went to sleep and imagine you by his side. he remembers another handful of nights in college when, long after he'd thought he was well over you, he still found himself rethinking your smile and refiling that folder of his. time carried on, and though he didn't necessarily have a heartbreak for it to heal, it wouldn't have mattered anyways because in his case, time could never heal. not for him and not in the face of you.

so jeno laughs along with you when he trips over your front steps, he sets both hands on the doorframe and leans in ever so slightly to say his goodbyes, and when the door shuts behind him, he takes a good look back over his shoulder anyways, hoping that you'd pop your head at the window, that you'd catch his lingering gaze. jeno's steps are resolute because he's not thirteen anymore. it's no longer about whether you like him back or not, it's about dealing with the fact that he likes you. and if his coping mechanisms come in the form of pushing his bounds as just a friend, flirting an obscene amount, and perhaps even confessing, then so be it.

jeno decides that, this time around, he would rather risk heartbreak than love you in silence for seven more years.

propping a knee, you catch the back end of the trash bin before it can thud on the pavement beneath you. a huff and a grunt are uttered into the air as you push it against the fenced side of your house, to the curb. you slide it against the elevated sidewalk, down onto the road, and it gives a resounding thump as it hits the ground. you dust off your hands and pivot to retrieve the last one and upon setting that one down in the spot adjacent to the previous, in the corner of your eye is perceived a figure.

born of instinct, you almost rush back into the house, a case of kidnap tends to loom when you're a young adult female taking out the trash in the dead of night. but another glance is given and the silhouette draws familiar notion, broad shoulders and especial proportions, not to mention the bright green you catch in the light of his porch lamp. it's jeno, and a hand of his clamps over his nose as the other thrusts a plastic bag into the black bin. and it's when he turns to retreat into his residence that his eyes catch you as well and he jumps a bit, recollects himself, waves, and watches as you wave back in the hopes that he could maybe approach you. 

instead, he finds that you're the one approaching him and that somehow makes it all the more nerve-wracking as he rushes to meet you in the middle. even a simple, "hi," from you makes his cheeks grow warm. he's breathless when he speaks, and not because of the brisk actions he undertook prior, "hey there." 

"are we still on for tomorrow?"

jeno's mouth parts as he retraces his memory to extract what exactly was planned for tomorrow. "ahh, yeah i can do tomorrow...morning?" you clasp your hands behind your back as you nod along, "morning it is then." your lips quirk to the side as you place your gaze on anything but him, to pass time, perhaps to make the silence a little more bearable. jeno's voice is so low the next he speaks, it almost spooks you out of your wits, "have you met up with any of the boys yet?"

his eyes keep their track on you as you take a few steps to the edge of the curb, lowering yourself atop it, "well, i hung out with hyuck the other day," you motion for him to sit beside you and he follows suit, "and i think he mentioned wanting to do some reunion thing at his house. i don't know, i'll have to ask." jeno stirs in his thoughts for the time being. hyuck. though he'd kept in touch with the boy after middle school and a bit after high school, even his name brings up a shitload of memories. "have you?"

"huh?" his eyes whirl to meet yours, "oh. for me, mostly just jaem, and renjun too the other day."

conversation seems to flow intermittently between you two, ongoing or nonexistent at all, for another lapse of silence is thrown into the mix. the air is certainly not governed by awkwardness, jeno feels that the time you've spent with him in the last few days guarantees at least that. but it's also laden with a sort of tension you can't quite place, a territory you're unwilling to traverse into. you move past your thoughts and voice only a sliver of them aloud, suppositionally, "if- if we do meet up, like all of us, do you think it'll be weird?"

"weird how?"

"weird as in…well, a lot's changed, since we were thirteen, and we haven't been in a room together all at once, since we were thirteen."

"i don't know. i think," he shrugs, "i think we'll be fine, me and you at least." jeno likes saying 'we' when it pertains to you and him. he mumbles it over a few times, under his breath, and though it's not entirely out of your earshot, you're far too busy taking long and zoned-out glances at him to notice. that in itself is something he surely notices.

undoubtedly, you must not be the only person in the world to think that jeno grew up well. lee jeno is kind, kind enough to grant you all the favors you've asked of him. lee jeno is warm, you feel he emanates warmth even by simply sitting by his side. lee jeno is sincere, his smiles beam of genuinity and his words are coated in truth. and in the spotty moonlight, flitting in between the boughs of the tree just above, lee jeno is good looking, chiseled jaw, pretty lips, those eyes. but more than that, he lives up to his good looks. you can only wish you'd been there to see him grow up, to grow up with him.

"jen?"

"yes?"

you tap your toes alternatingly on the scratchy pavement, your eyes and his as well are trained on them. licking your lips, you take your gaze from your feet to his side profile and your breath hitches before you speak, "what...what happened to us?"

jeno reverts his eyes onto your own, "what do you mean?" now you're staring right at each other which is usually how any conversation should be, but conversations between you and him seem to always be an exception. fiddling with your fingers, you trace your sights back down to your feet, "you said that we'd keep in touch. well, we both said that."

in truth, as much as the distance that divided the two of you could be denoted from his seemingly unrequited feelings for you, there was much less of a romantic touch in what happened for the most part. for the most part, things panned out as they usually do when two people, once close and once sworn to never not be close, end up being separated by the one thing that brought them close in the first place. that is not to say that your friendship with jeno had no value outside of school and school-related things but really, school was the one thing that made it so you saw the boy day in and day out, shared with him an intimacy that could only be reached with that basis of interaction. more than any derivative of feelings that could drive the two of you apart, your friendship was split by the common ground idea that people come and go. perhaps it was fate that wielded the sorts, perhaps it was merely meant to be. and if you were to chalk it up to fate, you could say that meeting jeno again, like this, was fate as well.

but jeno here, twenty-one-year-old jeno as opposed to thirteen-year-old jeno, would like to come clean with his feelings. at least his feelings of way back when, because this turn of the conversation had churned a past within him that he had yet to be willing to unearth; that is, until now as he susurrates, "because i liked you." jeno feels his eyes gloss over involuntarily, "and with the whole high school transfer and everything, it just kinda all fell apart." 

he looks to the other side, as naturally as he can, but there's the unmistakable shuffle of feet from behind him and when he turns back around, sure enough, you've inched closer than his current mental state can handle. you watch as jeno blinks, his eyes lain upon your lap, and a tear proceeds to trace its merry way down his cheek. you catch it with the sleeve of your sweatshirt but even after he's cried through his emotions, your hand stays there, cupping his cheek. 

the tips of your fingers protrude from the fabric of the sleeve and they, your thumb in particular, swipe across the heights of his cheeks and the bags under his eyes. your own eyes are soft on his, soft in knowing and in understanding because, "well if it offers you any comfort, i liked you too."

jeno, though fresh in the surprise of revelation, feels an ease pool his mind. he takes a hand and brings it to cup the side of your face as well, mirroring your actions with an equal, loving gaze that holds the memoirs of your cherished past. a past that no longer tugs at his mind, begging for his attention, that no longer muddles his afflictions between what is new and what is old, and a past that he can now move on from, with renewed finality.

you break the exchange with a breathy laugh. a smile stretches across his face. the one hand on his face turns into two and the same is applied to you sequentially. two twenty-one-year-old college students sit on the curb in front of a house that belongs to neither of them but rather lies in between their respective homes. they sit side by side, their eyes boring deeply into one another's and, with both hands clamped on the cheeks of the other, occasionally squishing to produce the silliest of expressions, they laugh and they imbue in the elation of being at peace with their entwined pasts.

when you stand first, brushing off the dust on your bottom, jeno, still sitting, catches your wrist and lets the quirk of his lips and a small, "thank you," express the lengths at which the conversation had gone in its endeavors to mend a somewhat dysfunctional relationship. but now in full functionality, jeno wonders if his feelings still persist.

and if there's one thing to tell him they do, that they're as present as ever if not more so than before, it's the way he blushes warm when you entangle his grip on your wrist into your hand, giving his palm a brief squeeze before you look down upon him with an enraptured smile of your own. he watches you take your leave and, in the blackness of night, he thinks you are the most personable being to have ever walked in his life. he thinks he wouldn't mind another seven years, though only if he was promised to have you by his side the whole while.

"you mind if i tag along?"

yeah, i mind. jeno clicks his tongue, "no."

"you sure?" hyuck edges him on, nudging his old friend with the end of the hose. jeno can only roll his eyes at that, taking the hose from him, "not like i have a choice if she brought you here in the first place." jeno, while watching you roll up the windows of your dirtied car, can't help but wonder why you had to bring this damned boy. he really thought that after such a heartfelt moment the two of you shared just the past night, you would have been more open to venturing into alone, one on one, time with him. he does his best to clip back the snarky tone that's just waiting to be let aloud whenever donghyuck speaks.

"so who do you think's gonna be third wheeling today? me or you?"

"you," jeno bleats with not a second to spare. though he's sure the boy means it all in good-natured fun, jeno's dead serious when he says, "guess we'll just have to see who prevails."

and that, oh dear, that is sure to bring out the competitive temper of the one and only lee donghyuck, winner of all games ever played. jeno knows he's perhaps just dug a hole for himself, a shovel in hand and all, because right off the bat, hyuck is off to hog all of your attention and very rarely does he fail with his witty remarks and his position as 'most recent best friend.' in fact, he's right in the middle of telling you what is sure to be the joke of the century when the idea pops into jeno's mind, a godsend. 

he turns the knob on the hose to its fullest power before trudging off to the dial, his absence going unnoticed as you laugh at whatever hyuck has just said. donghyuck's turning to see if jeno has caught yet another point he's scored when he's met with a forceful discharge of water square to his face. it's four seconds of just standing there before hyuck remembers that he has the miraculous abilities of mobility, and upon moving out of the way in a terrible coughing and choking fit, the spray of the hose lands upon you. 

jeno gives a squeal that's comparable to yours as you snatch the second hose from donghyuck's limps hands, his body now wilted rather dramatically across the hood of your car, and point it to jeno, dousing him full as you charge right at him. he doesn't move, to your liking and more because he feels bad for having just accidentally drenched you in freezing cold hose water in the dead of winter. the punishment he has willingly subjected himself to is also freezing cold, bone-chilling, and numbing to the core. but he doesn't mind it nearly as much when the gush of water hitting his chest stops and he runs a hand through his hair, clearing his eyes to reveal your smiley, smiling face that looks to be having way too much fun in the face of hypothermia.

he's left kneeling when the water clears and you are as well, though while he's kneeling from the sheer force of the deluge, you're kneeling out of laughter. trudging over to your spot a little ways from him, the blades of the grass of your front lawn beneath tickling the skin of his kneecaps, jeno blithely lifts a few stray and wet strands of hair out of your face, tucks them behind your ear. your laughter subsides into gentle smile, one that erupts into giggles recurrently, and jeno has the gall to steal a look a donghyuck, who has since recovered and is now staring at the scene itself, eyebrow cocked and a tongue jutting out his cheek in a challenge he gladly takes up on.

jeno returns from inside his house with the two towels he had his mom fetch, only two because in his eyes, it's only fair that donghyuck doesn't get one. needless to say, hyuck's displeased as he watches jeno pat and dry your hair as you sit, propped atop the hood of your car. jeno isn't all that surprised when his own towel gets stolen from his shoulder and the boy also props himself onto the hood, next to you. funnily enough, jeno's now the one who's displeased because you've taken the towel from donghyuck's hands and instead of using it to dry the damp ends of his own hair, like it was intended to be, you turn slightly and echo jeno's actions, but instead on hyuck.

and while jeno's nose scrunches in a distaste that only hyuck catches, his eyes seemingly everywhere all at once, you turn a tad bit further to the side to reach the back ends of hyuck's head of hair. jeno complains as your own head moves a little too far for his positioning and a hand leaves the towel to move you back into place. that meaning his left hand holds solid on your right thigh. that also meaning the sudden halt of your actions, jeno's too, as donghyuck simply stares, observes, analyzes, comes to a realization, and smirks.

jeno also comes to a realization that his hand is still, still on your thigh, shown in how his hand snaps back into the oblivion and beyond, and how the tips of his ears are exceedingly quick to flush a cherry red. his thoughts of just yesterday, 'get the girl!,' are now very much diminished as his stare fixates on the ground and the ground only, even as you ask for him to move a little to the right so you could slide off the hood, even as hyuck excuses himself to the guest bathroom, though his hand is quick to fish out his phone before he even enters the house. jeno's eyes are unmoving, even as time resumes around him, and even though he understands how crazed he must look in your eyes. he understands, but that's about it because it's nothing that can be helped. 

you quirk a brow at the boy, eyes a flood of worry, and with those same eyes on him, lee jeno, in the middle of winter, begins to sweat. it starts at the palms, a sticky, tacky feeling but then he feels it creep at the back of his neck, coming in the form of a shiver of nerves. and although those two remain unnoticed, you bring a hand to his wrist to catch his attention because the beads of sweat forming along his temple have caught yours. "jeno, are you okay? you seem to be…" 

jeno lifts his gaze from the floor, a feat no doubt, and brings his eyes to yours. there are many things he notes. one, the worry in your eyes irks him, he despises even more that he's the cause of it, however silly. two, your hand remains at his wrist, unsure in the lightness of touch but assured in how it stays put nonetheless. three, your lips, they're very pretty; an observation that he's always been aware of, but when your face is only a rough seven inches from his own, the observations become a fact, ingrained in his mind for now and forevermore whenever he so much as looks at you. though more unconscious, there's a four. he wants to kiss you. and in a way that's quite far from the simple, accidental brush of lips he'd shared with you just the day prior. it's significantly far, a dot in the distance.

he almost goes in for it.

"do you mind if i shower at your place? it's fucking cold."

you remove your hand from his wrist, jeno's fingers twitch in longing to reach after it. with your own fingers absentmindedly toying with the cinched waistband of your sweats, you shift your weight from one foot to another. remarkably, only your top half was drenched but that in itself was sure to trail little shivers up your spine. jeno avoids your gaze, feverishly, hand coming up to the nape of his neck. he mumbles a short, "sure," before turning upon his heel, leading into the house. 

while hyuck is in the guest bathroom, you venture into the one through jeno's room which is noticeably cleaner since the last you were there. he tells you to wait there while he messes around in the bathroom, cleaning, but he leaves that detail out. one leg crossed over another, you bunch up the soaked hems of your shirt so as to not drip everywhere, standing there in apprehension and also halfway in the dark with the slatted blinds above his bed turned shut, the only source of light being the little that slips in between the slats. resolutely, you cross the room and gingerly lean a knee into the bed, reaching for the handle to twist them open. that's when you see it, slung upon the footboard of his bed.

that's also when jeno calls, voice distant and steps in a hurry as he pronounces, "i'll get you a shirt from my closet, hold up." but as he emerges from the bathroom, it seems that you have different plans. his eyes go wide as he sees the one, unfortunate garment he'd forgotten to put away this morning in your hands. yes, the bright green shirt from that one seventh grade math competition, with the now faded and very corny geometry joke proudly displayed on the front. it's that one that his mom asks him all the time why he never throws it out even though it's been years. he almost lets it show how he sulks into himself because they're his pajamas, and for a reason that he knows that you know and, to him at least, it's all the more embarrassing when you know. there's a lot of almosts today because jeno almost shits himself at the thing you say next.

"can i wear this one instead?"

the shy glint in your eyes and the light smile that glosses over your expression are all he needs to say, "sure," it comes out nonchalant but jeno is freaking the fuck out internally. you asking to wear that specific shirt suddenly made all the embarrassment garnered from it seem significantly less embarrassing. 

he sits on the edge of his bed as the sounds of the shower going skirts his thoughts. feet kicking up and down, back and forth down the side, jeno sighs with his bottom lip tucked under his front teeth. he's directly opposite and in line with the one picture on the wall he couldn't dare put away in his prior and precautionary cleaning in the case that you would come over once again. the edges of the photo are frayed with time and brash handling, seen even in its frame, but if anything, the memory of it is intact as ever. 

jeno thinks of all the things that would have gone differently, had he confessed to you that day as he planned he would. graduation day it was, and it was cloudy and on the verge of raining but his spirits weren't dampened in the slightest, clapping the loudest as you crossed the stage to shake hands with the principal, head awkwardly facing the crowd as your father had implored you to do so for his picture. his spirits were far dampened when you returned to your seat, a row ahead and a few down from where he was himself, mouthing a, "stop it," in annoyance as he mimicked your ungainly actions from just before. he felt that his spirits could never be dampened as he returned to his own seat, looking over in your direction automatically as you posed a thumbs up and another mouthing, this time an, "i'm proud of you," before getting caught by a passing supervisor and being forced to turn back around with a huff.

jeno remembers his spirits plummeting as he sat with you under the bleachers, for the last time, half his body situated on his jacket and the other on the scratchy grass. he didn't mind it as long as you were fully atop it yourself. despite what his quick wikiHow search on 'how to confess your love to someone,' there was no surge of confidence, not one stroke of it within him. he gave small smiles to your animated talking and the bare minimum of responses when prompted. and when you'd fished your phone out of your back pocket at the sound of a ping to see your mom texting you to go back to the field for pictures, he took your helping hand as he stood but even then, he couldn't dare be bold enough to keep your hand in his. with an arm set loosely across the back of donghyuck's shoulder and the other across yours, he made sure to hold you tight by his side, for fear and acceptance that this would be the last time he would have you there, by his side.

but as his gaze is pulled away from the picture, instinctively towards the sound of the door being propped open, jeno's reminded that, for now, you're all for his taking as long as he's up for the challenge. he watches as you linger by the door for a second, lip tucked under teeth yourself as you contemplate your next steps, next words. and as jeno watches, the shirt hanging tight on his figure but loose on yours, he can't help but think that this time around, he's in it to win it.

forms clutched in your left hand, all of them filled out in your neat, pencilled handwriting, you tap your toes impatiently. the line that you were currently in, placing at about the middle, was long and not at all to your liking. against your best wishes, your parents really had the gall to sign you up for this; you have foolproof evidence that math is your weakest subject, the foolproof evidence being a years and years accumulated stack of report cards. they claimed it was for you to get some extra practice and you'd countered that the annual math competition at your middle school was only really for the people in the advanced math placement, which you were most certainly not. you were still forced to go, though you declined the offer to buy the gaudy green shirt, but you were also right in saying that because none of the people in the line, at least of those in front of you, were from your class. you look towards the back end of the line to check the same so that you could provide extra evidence to your conviction, not that you were going to really need it after you took the test but you would like something to pair with your lacking results when rubbing it in to your dad later.

at first glance, there's no one really that you can spot but then you look at the person directly behind you and what you don't expect is it to be that one kid that is indeed in your class, your low level math class. he's quite the sight and you wonder why he didn't catch your eye earlier with his hair sticking up in all directions as he frightfully balances on one leg, his other hiked up and being used as a makeshift table. upon closer inspection, the paper he's furiously writing upon looks to be akin to your filled out form, only it's not filled out at all.

twelve-year-old jeno feels your gaze on him, and though he's verily preoccupied with writing, he's much more intrigued by your interest in him. head snapping up in a sudden movement and snarky in his greeting, "got something to say?" and it reminds you a little too much of hyuck to simply let it pass, "yes, i do." no, you actually don't so the empty pause you leave is in search of anything relevant. when you do happen upon something, your continuation is in equal snarkiness, "your hair's a mess."

at that, he stands up straight and you note how at the age of twelve, the boy is annoyingly taller than you, "shoot, really?" a hand rushes to pat down the straight strands in a hurry. a mild surprise lines your countenance at how the snarkiness ends there, watching as he furthers his comments, "i was in a rush this morning, that's probably why," and when you, again, have nothing to add, he goes to say, "renjun told me about this competition and i just had to do it."

now it's confusion that can be seen in your bewildered stare, you only knew about this since your mom is pta (parent teacher association) president; the competition, though advertised as open to all seventh graders, was only really promoted to the higher level math students, namely renjun and his lot. the kid, whose name you place to be jeno, friend of renjun's who's a friend of hyuck's, is now expectant in a response from you, less the conversations take a turn for the worse. you provide something short but enough to compose your inquiries, "why? who would want to do this?"

a part of you already knows. lee jeno, though you know little of him, sits at the front of your math class and never forgets to bring his glasses to school. a pencil is almost always in his hand when he raises it to ask a question at least ten times per lecture which is also the only reason you actually know of him because unlike him, you don't pay much attention at all in math class. jeno raises his eyebrows and replies as if his reasoning was common knowledge, "well i thought it'd be fun!"

"fun?"

"yeah!"

"fun how?"

jeno's standing complacently but his hands are making vague motions, "because you know…," a hands comes to the nape of his neck and he whispers as if his utterances were frowned upon for a lower level math student. to you they are indeed. "i like math."

"yeah no shit, you're the only one who participates in math." his eyes widen at your profanity, head snapping to see if anyone had heard. upon realizing something else, he motions for you to move forward, neither of you had noticed the line had started progressing onwards. 

jeno's still on edge, eyes peering side to side to make sure no teacher had passed while you spat such a vulgar word, "shhh, what if someone hears you?!" a coy smile creases your eyes, you decide that you're certainly very fond of this boy, or at least you're very fond of teasing him. "then how about...damn?" jeno's startled. "ass?" jeno looks like he's on the verge of shitting his pants. thus you go on, "another shit?" the twelve-year-old's mouth drops wide open, "y/n-"

"asshole, dickhead, son of a bitch, mother fucker, your mom's puss-"

he's rushing right up to you and before you can proceed, jeno's hand is clamped tight over your mouth. "y/n, that's-" and as if he weren't already a close seven inches away from you, he leans in further and you swear his lips graze the side of your cheek as he whispers, "y/n, that's illegal," and suddenly and in your eyes, the humble, wide-eyed boy that you'd only thought to tease of has you floored with his gaze locked on yours, breath fanning across your skin. he looks good, even at twelve years, lee jeno is easy on the eyes.

you gulp, push him off, and turn back around to the line that'd moved up four people since the last you'd moved, leaving jeno to stand there, hands limp by his side and in complete neglectance of his still half-filled out form. it takes thirty or so seconds for him to move up in the line as well, the mutters from the people lagging behind him also going unnoticed. and when he does notice, taking a few steps forward and once again hiking his leg up to be used as a viable writing surface, it's only after he spent those same thirty seconds spaced out in aftershock of why he did that, or rather, where the sudden surge of confidence came from that had him in the position in the first place. perhaps that's the first time that jeno ever thinks of you a little differently, only because there's something about you makes it so he does things a little differently, makes it so he can't simply act normally around you.

and perhaps you've also undergone the same predicaments because you pay extra attention when the test is handed out, and the way your brows pull together with your eyes trained on the paper tells a lot about those normally divergent acts. you're the last to turn it in, even after the bookish jeno, and when he takes a glance at you across the room as he returns to his seat, a little smile creeps its way upon his lips.

the same smile is there when you plop down next to him in math class the following monday, right at the front of whiteboard, and there goes the tug of his heartstrings when you lean over, eyes in wonderment, to ask him a thing or two about hypotenuses or some of the sort which he more than happily obliges. jeno beams when you hold him back after class to show him your score on the unit final he'd tutored you for and he beams the year after that when the two of you both climb the ranks into the prestigious advanced level placement. 

for many reasons, jeno proved to be a blessing in your life. your parents loved him specifically for the studiousness he instilled within you, something neither of you have ever pointed out but are in mutual understanding of. jeno was by your side through your traumatic first post-breakup stage, the douche of a boyfriend, or rather another twelve-year-old boy, had dumped your ass after two and a half days. jeno was the one who coughed into your ear during that one fateful game of telephone, the one played on the bus to the museum field trip; he'd defeated, and i mean absolutely crushed, donghyuck in a game of rock, paper, scissors to win the spot next to you, still a feat he considers one of his many prides to this day. jeno was the one who picked at your food, but also magically produced his own to share whenever you were without a lunch. 

lee jeno was the epitome of right person, right time, and even though the same sentiments weren't carried all the way through, were interrupted, displaced, all the things he gave you, left for you, they stayed.

lee jeno remembers the day he met you with keen lucidity. he remembers all the days after that in a chorus of feelings that swept him in the most unintelligible way, after all, who expects to fall so deeply in love at the age of twelve. at twelve you'd think the thing you'd be most worried about would be having fun before high school, occasionally grades, or maybe even the changing appearances that come with puberty and puberty in itself. for a good chunk of it, jeno thought that his feelings could be explained by puberty but it proved especially ignorant of him to think the same in high school when his feelings that persisted were only sustained by the mere memory of you. 

maybe it wasn't from day one, by no means was it love at first sight, second sight, or even third or fourth or fifth, but it was the succession of some inevitable process, the day you met through the day you graduated. to finish a thought, maybe lee jeno could have claimed spot as your boyfriend of seven years, had he not yielded in the face of profession. perhaps, you would have broken up already, the simple outcomes of distance and the natural order of relationships. would he have let you go? or would it have been you to call it off?

it's unfortunate that he'll never know, no matter how much he wonders, but of all the things he's sure of in the moment, it's that your laugh is the prettiest thing known to man, known to him. your feet dangle a significant amount over the edge of his bed, stark from his own toes that are stagnant and grazing the floor. he doesn't look over at you and his mumbles say enough of why, "i'm not kidding, y/n- don't laugh at me! i'm being serious, you really do."

"really now, you're telling me that i look good in your old pajamas. as if it weren't just to tease me."

"really!" his voice hits a pitch higher and he clears his throat, a scrunch of his nose at your laugh follows and denotes much regret in how he accidentally spoke his thoughts aloud in the first place. you really can't tell but he's trying his best to get in a few compliments, he'd heard that girls like flattery (he didn't hear, per se, he'd seen it somewhere online—read: wikiHow). "you look far better in it than i ever would." 

with his hands on either side of him, jeno pushes himself upwards the bed, lowers his back upon the sheets, and folds his hands across his stomach. he didn't expect as such but you do the same. it's now that his heart sees it fit to speed its pace, only because of that one pesky thought that's infiltrated his mindset. you're in bed with him after all, and though it's nothing close to what would be considered crossing the line as two friends, the thought itself is enough to ignite a fervid warmth through his cheeks. his eyes are rigid on the ceiling when you speak, "do you even remember where this is from?" they itch to look over at you but he's afraid it'll be too obvious then; his plan is to woo you, not to make a fool of himself.

jeno senses the sheets stir from beside him and he can only guess what position you've assumed, and hopefully not the one where you're facing him while his everything is still aligned straight ahead. he hopes it's not because if it were, he'd be missing out on one of those *romantic moments* that he so wishes to achieve. jeno's inability to think straight, about positioning, hinders his ability to respond, something that's only brought to his attention when you perk up again, "jeno? did you hear me?"

jolted, his eyes instinctively snap to yours in the sense that yes, now he's facing you and yes, he sees that you're facing him also. there seems to be a little something lodged in his throat when he replies because it comes out as if his neck were a squeaky toy that'd just been stepped upon. "of course," he clears his throat with a grunt, "that math competition, seventh grade." jeno concludes that that something in his throat must be his heart because he can quite literally hear its beating in his ears and feel its thrum through his organs. he licks his lips and sits in silence, save the thumps of his heart, as his eyes trace to your own lips, not seven inches away.

"that's...that's when it all started," you muse, a hand coming up to brush a hair from your face and hitting jeno's chest on its way, as if just to remind him of how close you are. "i mean, for me that is."

pushing his rather uncivilized thoughts from his mind, jeno gives a, "what do you mean?" before dutifully returning to glancing at your lips. if you notice, you don't comment upon it, choosing rather to answer promptly, "i think that's when i started to like you." he gulps and says just about the same, "me too." jeno's nerves think they are just about ready for whatever is thrown his way but not until a leg of yours moves to nudge his gently. "wow, it's like we're meant to be." his nerves, they must be on fire now and just about ready to take on the whole world in its entirety because he notes with keen incredulity that your use of 'we're' could indicate that you still like him, the possibilities of it being an 'are' versus a 'were' are only fifty-fifty.

"yeah…," he trails off, misses the look in your eyes, shifts to land onto his back, eyes on the ceiling. you do the same and decide that it's enough of 'testing the waters' for today. but apparently jeno thinks otherwise because just as you're moving to sit upright, he spells a slither of his heart out for you, "you're my first love, you know."

jeno would like to pride himself in the usage of 'you're,' also vague and could be taken either way. upsettingly, he lacks the know-how to understand that what this situation needs right now is certainty to topple over the tension and teetering statements. he's a bit too used to hiding behind the veil of 'what ifs' and resting atop the net of safety to realize. 

blinking up at the ceiling, you rustle to sit up once again, but not before donghyuck bursts through the door with an expression that sits pissed at first but melds into his signature leer as soon as he surveys the pair he's stumbled upon. "been looking for you two." jeno's shooting upright himself and all of a sudden, things are happening too fast.

there's two seconds before you're off and bounding towards hyuck as if he were your means of rescue; there's the, "what took you so long?" that slips from your mouth as if you'd been waiting for him all along instead of willingly giving jeno your time of day; there's donghyuck's phone that rests limp in his hand, by his side, but not yet clicked off because the screen gleams bright and it's showcasing jaemin's contact, a recent call most definitely; there's hyuck's response, muttered but in good humor, "i took a shit, that's why." 

and then there's the sinking feeling that sets fire within jeno. maybe even jaemin as well but it's for certain and even further confirmed when hyuck's smirk makes its way to meet jeno's benumbed expression, his eyes locking with sickening devilry and the traces of a challenge. donghyuck knows. and though he's sure to take it upon himself to get the two of you together for once and for all, jeno knows far better, with experience in hand, that though his friend's sentiments are in support, his chances fair much higher when it's only him that's left to trifle with the dealings of his love life. only him, and his languishing confidence.

plucking a kernel from the carpet, you toss it into the bin over the arm of the couch. the paper towel on the same arm is used to rub off whatever dust had soiled your hand and it's returned to the bowl to rummage for another, slightly more buttered, popcorn. you wish that your mom was into those hallmark christmas movies, because in all honesty, you're quite the fan but you suppose 'rise of the guardians' ranks close enough. glancing down to the bowl in your lap for a second time, you groan upon realizing that the only reason you've been munching on the terribly unflavored popcorn was because you've already tired out the supply of the buttered ones. that enough gets you to set the bowl on the coffee table, done with snacking for the night as you pick up your two crochet hooks and get to work, your actions mirroring your mom's though she's a lot farther in her chain.

you suppose the movie is just about halfway through when you're sidetracked by how you've somehow messed up a turning chain, warranted though, as you're an amateur in the dark. it's a shame because you really would have loved to pay at least half attention to the very gorgeously animated character, jack frost, but are instead struggling. after reworking the chain a few times, you decided to give it a rest and set it aside as well. it seems that being a quitter is the overarching theme of today.

the sound of your head thudding against the back of the couch gets your mom to separate her attention as well. seeing your state, she opts to make conversation in the light that you're far from returning to the movie. it plays in the background, the only source of light in the living room. "how's the car?"

"clean." a sour mood you're in, it seems. your mom hesitates for a second before approaching a second question, "how's jeno been?"

"great. he's been great, mom." she sets down her crochet for the time being, the foot of hers that's jutting out of the blanket bouncing up and down. you doubt why you even tried to conceal your feelings with curt responses when really, you're unashamed in front of your mom. that's the sole reason why she deems it fitting to dig a little deeper, "anything you want to tell me?"

it's an, "of course," that has her crochet set in her lap for the rest of the night. you turn towards her in full, shifting your weight so that it faced her position on the armchair diagonal of the couch. sighing, you shove a tongue in consideration to the side of your cheek before pulling back the curtains a third of the way, "i think he likes me." your mother's eyes sparkle, she sets her hooks and yarn on the coffee table as well, urging you to go on with a nudge of her head. "but at the same time he doesn't?"

she nods in the processing of her thoughts, "so, mixed feelings?"

you nod along with her, "mixed feelings."

your mother never disappoints you when a situation of yours arises and she's bound to give you her advice, her very blunt, very to-the-point advice. "just ask him. i mean, if he rejects you, you're only going to have to see him for a few more weeks before you're back off to school."

and you never disappoint yourself when a situation of yours arises and you're bound to adhere to her advice, the very blunt, very to-the-point advice because as always, she's right. but then she muses on with the littlest care in the world, "or you could just mess around with him for a bit-"

"mom-"

"what's making you think i mean it in that way? did i really raise such a slu-"

"mom! oh my goodness-"

"i'm just saying," she drags on the word and you almost rush to interrupt her with another exclamation before noting her demeanor, her countenance in the dim light. you lick your lips in apprehension, vaguely reminiscent of salted butter. "i'm just saying...keep him on the hook for a little longer," her crochet reference is bad but you don't miss an opportunity to let a small smile show. it's gone the next second when she resumes with more to her thought, "really, take it slow. i doubt that he doesn't like you. i'm pretty sure he did back in middle school-"

"he told me he did, something about how i was his first love."

she's taking this a lot less seriously than you thought she would. it irks you to know why. your mother has her head propped on the palm of her hand, her weight on the arm of the couch, "then i'm pretty sure he's never had a second." your brows draw in, "why?"

"no matter how much i love you, y/n, i would never pay for your groceries, change your tires, haul your christmas tree, or wash your car after not seeing you for seven years. just think about it, seven years without contact is as good as being strangers." you watch as she pushes herself off the arm, off the chair, blanket falling aside. your mom takes your discarded bowl in her hands, her own crochet, and the tv remote before clicking the movie off. you watch her as she moves casually across the room and you hear her just before she flicks on the light. 

"it's either that he likes you or that he's jesus, your pick."

it's a christmas rule, or at lease a rule that you and your friends go by, that if christmas day is for family, then christmas eve is for friends, hence why donghyuck had so cleverly gathered everyone in his basement on the very day, or night actually. he stops you with an arm just before you descend upon the staircase, "what'd you bring?" he motions towards the plastic bag clutched in your hands, the same one that'd bagged your groceries the other day (reduce, reuse, recycle!), but it instead carries, "pumpkin pie, i've come bearing pie," and hyuck removes his arm for you to pass before holding it up again for jeno, "and you, sir?" 

"eggnog."

you turn back to see donghyuck give jeno the heartiest pat on the back, "now that sir, that's what i'm talking about." scrunching your nose in good-natured fun, you quip at that, "what's wrong with my pumpkin pie?" jeno's a step above you, hyuck on the step behind as he retorts, "nothing, it's just that jeno here remembered that we're very much legal." shrugging, you trod off down below, missing the way donghyuck holds jeno back for a second. firstly to ask, "brandy or bourbon?"

"whiskey, actually."

and secondly to ask, "so what are you waiting for?"

"huh?" jeno takes a step back up the stairs and away from the hustle and bustle of the basement where you might have lingered to hear what he thinks the conversation is steering towards. "or did you do it already?" he checks himself before jumping to conclusions, "what do you mean?"

hyuck's hand is impatient on his friend's shoulder, after all, it's been eight years and counting since he first discovered jeno's little secret, plus only a day since he rediscovered it. "did you ask her out yet?" jeno's about to disagree with him, partially out of habit, "i-" before he realizes it's for naught, "no, i haven't."

"do you perhaps, i don't know, have a time in mind?"

repositioning the gallon-sized jar in his hands, jeno's response rumbles deep and low for only him to hear, "yeah actually, i was thinking next-"

"next?!"

"what-"

"no next! you have to do it like- tonight!"

"what, why?"

hyuck isn't smirking but the look in his eyes is somewhat akin to it. "because…," it seems that he isn't up to letting his mischief spill for his answer is really quite lame, "because timing is imperative! remember what happened last time?" jeno doesn't let it get to him nearly as much as it should; his plan is foolproof and he's convinced that nothing of what haechan does should be able to catch your gaze tonight, or for the rest of nights. he leaves the boy at the stairs as he treads into the space, ready to take on step one. different plans await him as he draws nearer to the sectional, only to find that the one available seat next to you, at the far right of the couch, has been taken by jaemin.

awkwardly, jeno sets the eggnog on the table and takes the next best spot, the one next to the boy, squeezing beside renjun who gives him a glare and a scowl, "first time you see me in awhile and you decide you want to sit on me? really jen?"

jeno puts his whole heart into apologizing, "oh whoops, my bad," as he turns his body in your direction, and jaemin's, only to feel his stomach furl at how jaemin's body is also aligned with your own, effectively blocking him off. again, the awkwardness that's emitting from him is awfully discernable to renjun, watching the boy turn back around again and give him a sheepish smile, this time in actual contriteness. with step two out of reach and thwarted, he sets his sights on the eggnog. jeno's quite the simple man. his approach was simple. he was sure that simple would get him many places, unlike donghyuck's abundant and conflict-laden schemes.

his plans were simple in that, one: sit next to you, make sure that no one else sits next to you. two: talk to you, make sure that no one else talks to you. and three: ask you out, make sure that no one else asks you out. and that's how it should've gone! though it's certainly not how it's going.

jeno's left to pick up the pieces of your and jaemin's delightful conversation as the same boy reaches for the eggnog at the same time as him. retreating, he watches as jaemin fills a mug for you, then for himself. he listens as jaemin questions, "first time drinking?" pfft, even i know that.

"yeah, actually," it's because you're mom's strict. "my mom's strict."

 "oh wow, so eggnog for a first must be kinda heavy, huh."

i wish that you would start with something lighter, just in case. "i know right, i wish that i could start out with something lighter, just in case. but i don't mind." i'll mind for you. if you can't finish it, i'll finish it for you.

"if you can't finish it, i'll finish for you."

with that, jeno's off to minding his own business because na jaemin is quite literally, stealing his spot, stealing his lines and it's evident that whatever he'd planned for tonight was simply, as simple as his plan, not happening. glare and scowl set into place, akin to renjun's earlier, he fills his own mug, only up to the halfway mark because his last glimmer of hope lies in when he walks you home later in the night. hell, he regrets just thinking that he should've just asked you out on the way here.

setting the mug down, he leans back in his limited space, arms behind his head and an elbow digging into renjun's space as well. the boy is about to comment on it when donghyuck finally returns from his room with the board game of choice this one christmas eve. "since y/n's here for the first time, i've decided to go with something mild," everyone, except you, is transported into the memory of last year when the now-snapped-in-half connect four contraption had bewitched them all into a death match (at least it wasn't raining and at least it wasn't on the rooftop), "so we're going with monopoly." jeno notes the smile that makes its way to your face.

renjun from beside him groans, "monopoly's boring though, ("-because you suck at it-") why can't we just play like-"  

"i think it's a good idea," jeno announces rather suddenly, to which donghyuck rejoins, "and i asked neither of you for your opinions." he tugs off the top of the case and throws it back, "my house, my rules." although jeno wants to confront the urge to counter hyuck's sass, he doesn't because you look pleased at the game of choice, elated almost. but then there's jaemin beside you, commenting and remarking into your ear to further the little smiles you give and, change of plans, jeno decides that if he can't beat jaemin in winning your attention, he'll just have to beat him in winning monopoly. 

the fake bills in his hands stack steadily as renjun, who'd been appointed banker, hands him, two hundreds, then another fifty. but with each increasing increment of jeno's money and competitiveness, jaemin's seems to dwindle as any inverse relationship would do as such. jeno seems to have forgotten that he, na jaemin, is the self-proclaimed 'least competitive person in the world' and how that held true in most any circumstance, including the case of girls or this case of boardgames. rather than narrowing his focus on winning, jaemin catered his role in the playing of the game to comedics. and while jeno dearly loves to hear you laugh, he finds it unfortunate that you find jaemin very funny.

he thinks he's had quite the night. the two rounds of monopoly, an hour each where he'd won both times but was also unrivaled both times, the movie marathon that followed suit (though is the word 'marathon' really warranted if only one and a third were watched?), and the grand finale, eight rounds of drinking games. certainly any singular event could have ignited a spur within him but after enduring all of them, paired with the fact that he was now mildly drunk, lee jeno is, to put it simply, not having it.

jeno undoubtedly has had a drink or two more than he should have because he sways a bit when he stands. he isn't sure but somewhere in the midst of seeing jaemin's hand rest casually on your thigh (missing the way you brush it off politely) and the way he seems to exclusively talk to you and you only (though your half-hearted responses are just out of earshot), jeno came to the conclusion that drinking copious amounts of eggnog seemed the best course of action. he also comes to duly note the looks that jaemin has been sending him, periodically. it's something along the lines of a smirk without the smile, a challenge set in his brow, and a glint of smugness in the eyes. drunk jeno is having exceeding difficulties in stripping down the implication of those regards, especially when his forefront train of concentration is currently being narrowed towards not tripping up the steps.

the jar of eggnog, now empty, is left behind on the table with the cumulation of also empty mugs and extra beer cans, soju bottles. your plastic bag and the aluminum container that held the pumpkin pie are long gone as well. you track your eyes down to each step of the stairs you take because if you look up, you'd be face to face with jeno's bottom. face to butt, really.

the night had ebbed, slowly but surely, into a mess. for whatever reason, you had minimal interactions with any of your friends except for jaemin, not that jaemin wasn't your friend, just that you had hopes of a christmas eve spent with the boy you talked the least to in the course of the night. the one whose bottom has just backed into your forehead. "jen…"

he pays no mind, perhaps doesn't even hear you at all because he proceeds to stumble around for a bit, taking another step down until you're forced to do the same, else your sanity be damned. both hands on the rails on either side, you suck in a breath. "jen, get your ass out of my face." and at that, the boy seems to get a grip on himself, tossing a dumbfounded, then staggered look back at you before straightening and taking the surest steps the rest of the way up to the utility room landing where donghyuck is seen to have been holding the back door open for the better part of three minutes. jaemin is there as well, lingering to see you guys off, you specifically, and jeno finds that same look being thrown at him, except this time he's slightly sobered up. the haze that had hitherto hindered him from thinking through his thoughts with clarity had cleared. he realizes what's off.

maybe it's the flashback, episodic memory style, to donghyuck's phone displaying jaemin's contact after intruding upon the little moment you'd been sharing with him, only a day ago at that. maybe it's that paired with hyuck's, "you have to do it like- tonight!" something that he'd brushed off but also made a lot more sense when put into consideration with the fact that jaemin's looks emanated of provocations, a dare of sorts. and that in itself speaks volumes of nonsense now that jeno's remembering that jaemin is the least competitive person in the world, not only to his own standards but to everyone else's. na jaemin, jeno's other best friend, wasn't deliberately trying to steal his (soon-to-be) girl. he was rather (rather infuriatingly) trying to rile up his dear friend into asking her out. bitterly, jeno notes that it's working; he's a great deal ticked off, even more so now that he's in the know, and his plans on asking you out have indeed been sped up to tonight.

so as jeno holds an unnecessary hand out to help you up the last few steps, a hand that you take with an apprehensive smile quick to form, he makes sure to give jaemin that same look he's been receiving all night. and while jaemin holds an elbow of yours to steady you as you slip on your shoes, jeno makes sure to take both sides of your open jacket and zip it closed, tugging the garment tight to your frame. he relishes in the feeling of your eyes on him, for the first time that night, as you bid your farewells to everyone else. jeno tries to hide a smile of his own as he says his goodbyes, eyes never leaving yours. he ushers you out of the house soon enough, the door clicking shut behind him and offering him the makings of possibly the confession of the century. he paces himself beside you.

hyuck's house is only four blocks down from your own, the only reason the two of you had agreed to walk there in the first place which was a seemingly good idea, if only you had considered the fact that by the end of the gathering it would be three forty in the morning, on christmas morning. the sky is dark, the moon itself offering little light in the presence of clouds, though the air is crisp as it is cold, nipping at the exposed skin of your face and hands. you shove those same hands into the pockets of your jacket as you shuffle along the side of jeno; just being by his side seems to provide a steady stream of warmth you're unwilling to stray too far from.

it's when the two of you cross the second intersection that jeno thinks to start up the little conversation that's been playing in his head for the last six or so hours. it's also then that an idea, though rather dumb, dawns upon you. your neighborhood circles around a fairly small lot, one with only a lawn of grass and a childrens' playground to earn it the title of being a park. a corner of your lips turns itself upwards as you grasp a hand on jeno's forearm, lightly steering him, "let's go sit on the swings for a bit, how's that?" and he complies, mind rerouting the scenarios of the conversation as the circumstances fluctuate. 

the swings, a set of two, creak and groan as you kick up and back, the movement coursing the wind to whip cold across your cheeks. your hands clasp the equally frigid chains from which the seat you're on is sustained, the metal is sure to leave red streaks along the lines of your palms. jeno, who remains unmoving, merely looks on at you with a bemused and adoring gaze, his hands fisting and unfisting in his jacket pockets to retain their warmth in the case that you would be willing to hold them. a wide grin spreads across his features as he watches you dig your heels into the bark to stop, your giddy laughter quiet but perceptible to his eager ears.

with the last bit of momentum edging you on, you almost stumble off the seat. lunging forward with added force, your arms are thrown out on either side to maintain your offset balance. jeno startles at your actions as well, a hand of his own is flung out instinctively to steady you but the distance makes it so the closest he gets is your thrust out hand. he's holding your hand. and it jars him a bit because the sequence of planned events, the notecards by which he was dutifully following, are now jostled and out of order.

he's yet to let go of your hand and that's yet to leave your notice. you don't question it either but you look over just in time to see him gulp, his eyes on the ground before him. the second you revert your eyes, jeno speaks, "do you mind if i ask you something?" his hands are warm.

"go for it."

"i- i said yesterday that...that you're my first love." despite the weather, jeno can almost feel the sweat rush to his palms. he hopes it isn't noticeable and pushes on, "am i yours?"

jeno's banking on your answer to give a green or red light to follow through with all else, he'd phrased the question to deliver precisely just that. never more than now have the differences between 'were' and 'are' meant so much to him. 

he turns to see a smile light your expression as you continue to stare into the ground and when he turns back, the fruits of his efforts are bestowed upon him. "yeah, you are my first love."

the green light has been given, jeno's palms are growing clammier by the second. he stands, hand still in yours, and pads over to where you're seated, the sound of wood chips crunching beneath his steps. jeno holds out his other hand and you take it. thumb rubbing over your knuckles, you find that jeno simply stands before you. the dark shrouds the two of you entirely but you make out enough of his features to see that he's smiling, blindingly, and it's in that moment where your mother's advice falls short because in all honesty, you have no willingness to 'take it slow.' you want him fast and you want him now.

"jeno, i like you."

his thumb on your knuckles stills. jeno isn't sure if he's falling or willingly lowering himself onto his knees because that's what's happening, though he's almost positive that he's come to a dead end on controlling his bodily functions. his mind, all those thought out scenarios of how this night could possibly pan out, every plan that's been enforced and redacted, it all short circuits because he's met with the one possibility that he thought unthinkable. you've confessed to him.

"you what?" jeno's looking up at you with what you believe to be wide eyes, they're beautiful to say the least. you give a squeeze to his hands. he almost jumps in response and in his sensitive state. with another five words, "i said i like you," and it feels as if you've decked him in the head with a chair, or ran him over with a truck, flew an airplane square into his chest. he squeezes your hands back, but harder and for longer as if to convey what he cannot possibly fathom into words in the moment. so he gives it two moments, maybe three or four, before he comes to grasp his bearings with a little more certainty.

but jeno can't bear to look you in the eyes. the thought of his sweaty, clammy hands in yours enough to render him an ungainly mess. with the bark digging sharply into his knees and beckoning for his attention, he doesn't think much as he drops his head into your lap. in fact, he doesn't think at all when he mumbles, "well, i love you," in such a casual manner, it's as if he were implying, 'hah, beat that.' 

and you do. to add on to the shitload of emotions he's currently surfing atop of, you retract a hand from his hold and bring it to his head, fingers weaving in and out of his locks, back and forth on his scalp. the world of thirteen and twenty-one collide because when he looks up, you're the same, pretty, endearing middle school girl and the same enthralling, though stressed college student that he's been loving for so long—almost too long, for the length of time would have deemed incredulous and in vain had you not uttered in the second following, with your fingers laced into the curls at the foot of his head, "well, i've loved you for as long as i can remember."

jeno goes in for it.

his lips on yours, at first, are hot like fire on a cold winter night. they burn and they scald and they sear until the memory of how they meld in perfect unison with your own has seared itself into the forefront of your mind, riveted and ravaging your every thought. sequentially, the initial pang dulls in the trail it's blazed as your movements settle into the languid pace he's set, lips encasing your own repeatedly no matter how many times you part. on perhaps the seven or eighth time you've met your lips to his own, he stops, though his lips remain on yours, and he breathes, "if that's the case...," he suckles on your bottom lip but falls back before you can act on it. jeno brings a hand to the line of your jaw and traces his finger along it, tilting your head to his as they happen upon your chin. "if that's the case, then i guess i must've loved you since the beginning of time."

if christmas eve is for friends, then christmas day is for family.

and perhaps jeno can be filed under friends and family after all because when you awake on christmas morning, or rather afternoon, it's not to the knock on the door from your dad or the screeching of your mom but rather, to jeno's leg shifting atop your own.

"oops, didn't mean to wake you," is what you first hear and the sight of him, hair messy and without a shirt, is what you first see. the brightness of your room, evidence of how you'd forgotten to draw the curtains closed before going to sleep, is almost enough to get you to shut your eyes again but you don't because it's lee jeno who's in front of you, in bed with you, with his arms around you. you wonder how you even fell asleep the night before.

yawning as you speak, "how long have you been up?" he glances at your bedside table, "since nine," and you follow suit, only to see the time on your alarm clock spelling out a 1:04 PM. "shoot, did my alarm wake you?"

"it should've woken you too."

you let a chuckle out at that and he returns with a hearty laugh that reverberates through you. letting your head hit his chest, you mumble, eyes closing shut, "why didn't you just wake me up then?" jeno's glad that you're unable to see him in the position you're in because he's sure to be sporting a blush when he says, "because you're cute when you sleep."

"and so you just ogled at me for four hours?"

yet somehow, he's anything but embarrassed when he retorts, "oh believe me, i've been ogling at you for years." you look up at him once again to see that his eyes are already on you. jeno pulls you closer until your clothed chest hits his bare one. "why am i the one wearing this?" he eyes the bright green material of the shirt and shakes his head, "i thought i already told you that you look better in it."

"in this musty old green tee?"

"not just any musty old green tee. it's my most prized possession, means a whole lot to me."

a smile finds its way to your face, "then why do you wear it to sleep every night? wouldn't that like, i don't know, shorten its lifespan?" jeno only shakes his head a little more, "i wear it to sleep because i like going to sleep thinking about you, it makes me think about you."

"then do you dream about me?"

shameless as he never was before, he nods, "do you?" you shuffle your legs around with his a little more, "i don't even remember my dreams but i'm sure that if i did, they'd all be dreams of you." the smile on his face stretches wide, neither of you are sleepy anymore.

you move to get up but jeno holds you still. complying, you decide to further your interrogations, "does your mom know that you're here?"

"no, but she probably thinks i just stayed over at hyuck's or something," you hum along, figuring just about the same. "the real question is, does your mom know i'm here?" musing along, you can only imagine the look on her face when jeno trails behind you on the steps down to breakfast (overdue lunch), "no, but i'm sure she'd be more pleased than anything. she really adores you, you know."

"then she wouldn't mind it if i asked you out, no?"

good god, it's like the reciprocation of his feelings has made him out to be a whole different man. gone is the stutter-filled, wide-eyed thirteen year old boy who could not, for his life, lay out his love for the one girl he'd only ever had eyes for. in with this smooth little fucker that has you stuttering over your own words, "n-no, i don't think she would mind." and he seals the deal with a kiss, lingering his lips on your own and pulling your bodies flush.

jeno wishes that things never change, the shoulder stitch of his shirt falling far too low on your arms and far too high on his collarbones, the white paint of your car gleaming and his clothes doused with a hose or two, the eggnog drunk until words string incoherent and his ass is shoved unceremoniously into your face. jeno hopes to keep you by his side, to go grocery shopping with you instead of having to bump into you by chance, to throw out his trash and return to your house instead of his own, to feel the arm of your jacket brush against his as you walk side by side in the blackness of night, to be able to close the distance every single time because you were always seven inches too far; the prospect of you and him had been withheld for seven years too long and since the seventh grade too young. but now, with your forehead pressed to his, legs tangled in ways unimaginable, it seems that he has you all to himself for seven eternities on end, endlessly, forever, forevermore.

copyright © 2020 rouiyan all rights reserved.

✧ end note — it’s ree here, and i hope you enjoyed my christmas gift to you hehe <33 as the new year comes into sight, i’d like to pass on to you some of that *good energy* and say that 1) i love you, very dearly. and 2) if you ever need anything, i’m right here for you, inbox always open. with sentiments as warm as ever, i am exceedingly glad to have been able to spend the latter third of this year with you guys. much more to come, rouiyan.

[chaolie]

Home is where your heart is [2/3] - A new home

Here we go, another chapter for @fundyfiles' event! This chapter is probably the angstiest I'll write for this story, so keep that in mind! It's almost as long as the last one too, which I think is great! You can also find this on my Ao3!

Characters: Fundy, Yogurt, Foolish, others mentioned

Words: 3.6k

Warning: Injury (not described closely)

Chapter 1: Tumblr / Ao3

Las Nevadas was... quite a change from the forest. The thing that seemed to intrigue Yogurt the most was the sand, the boy spent the first few hours just putting his hands into it and inspecting it. Fundy knew for a fact that his son saw sand before, but never so much of it in one place, just small patches of it by the river. After the initial confusion, Yogurt appeared to accept his surroundings, and almost every time Fundy looked, he was playing in the sand. He kept running around and going back to look at the shapes he left, which quickly changed into him just drawing with his hands or, if he could find one, a stick. If he felt a bit more mischievous though, he would change into a fox, dig a hole, and then back into a human to 'decorate' it, creating a surprisingly efficient trap. It wasn't too hard to avoid those though, and the only major downside Fundy found so far was getting the sand out of his son's hair, fur, and clothes at the end of each day.

Las Nevadas had many other differences from their previous home, though. It was big, it had so much open space that they could probably walk around with their eyes closed and wouldn’t have to worry about running into a tree. It was also much louder and brighter, the countless lamps lined the streets and sometimes you couldn’t tell it was nighttime without looking up and finding the moon. It made it harder for Yogurt to fall asleep, but he always managed when Fundy sat by his side, humming soft melodies as if they were lullabies before going off to wander the streets. It helped to keep him awake, and he really didn’t want to go to sleep. His nightmares were getting more frequent, and the last thing he wanted was to alert the entire country whenever he woke up.

Speaking of, that must’ve been the biggest difference. The people. Well, they weren’t all people, most of the residents had some inhuman traits in one way or the other, but that didn’t matter too much. At first, Fundy was worried to show them his son, he wasn’t sure how’d they treat him, so for a while, only Quackity knew. Still, it was hard to hide an entire child from them, so one by one, they all figured out who the little boy they sometimes saw running around was. And they took it well, they helped Fundy if he asked, and it became an unspoken rule that if they spot him anywhere without his dad in sight, they should either inform the man, or look after him themselves. It was a good rule, he thought. It certainly made it easier to keep calm if he lost sight of Yogurt for a moment.

Some people agreed to help even more than that, and Fundy couldn’t be more grateful for them. He came up with a way to keep himself awake for longer, but he’d need someone to look after Yogurt while he tried it out. He didn’t expect much, he just hoped someone would agree to go check on him a few times a day to make sure he had food and was safe, maybe put him to bed if they felt like spending a bit more time there. Foolish, the first person he asked and a father as well, agreed to do much more than that, though. They briefly went over how Fundy took care of Yogurt and almost everything was settled, they only needed to let the kid know.

“Hey, Yogurt!” Fundy called out, and the fox kit’s head peaked out from the small tent he set up for the two of them until their new house would be finished. “Come here, I need to tell you something.”

The fox hid back inside of the tent, and just moments later ran outside as a kid instead. Fundy was very proud of how well the boy learned to shapeshift, it took him just a moment to switch from being a fox to a human and back, and the man was sure that soon there would be a day his son would be better than him at that. This wasn’t the time to marvel at that, though, there was a serious talk they had to have. As the child finally ran up to him, he crouched down and took a deep breath.

“So… You know Foolish, right?” he asked, looking over his shoulder and at the mentioned man trailing slowly behind him. Yogurt nodded eagerly. “That’s good. I… have to go somewhere, and it could take a while, so if you need anything just ask him. Okay?”

“Where...?” the kid asked, his expression falling slightly.

“Uh… you remember Quackity? He asked me to get something, but to do that, I have to travel west for a while. It could take a day, but it’ll probably be longer. But Foolish will look after you until I’m back, okay?” he explained. Despite still looking upset, the boy in front of him nodded slowly.

“...Okay,” he repeated before stepping closer and trapping his dad in a warm hug. “Bye…?” he muttered. With how rarely Fundy left, he barely used the word so far.

“Bye,” Fundy answered with a nod. “I’ll be back before you know it, I promise,” he added, gently patting his son’s head until the boy let go.

Staying on the move should help him stay awake, right? And Yogurt would be fine.

***

11 days. That’s how much time passed since Fundy left, how much time Yogurt had to spend alone. Well, not alone, Foolish took care of him, and occasionally someone else dropped by and left him some berries or other treats. His ‘designated babysitter’ sometimes brought his own kids along, and the boy really enjoyed the new company. They were fun to play with even if they just wanted to build sandcastles all day, at least Yogurt could show off his newly developed skill to his dad when he was back! Whenever that would be.

Foolish assured him every evening, it would be okay, Fundy would return soon enough. He’d return with the item he was tasked with getting and he’d probably bring Yogurt some gifts too. He also talked about how well the man could protect himself, and about how safe he must be staying… but the kid didn’t doubt that to begin with. He wasn’t worried that his dad would get hurt or lost, he was just… lonely. He missed him. Having his dad near meant that he was safe, and that he was home… and while the tent he still slept in was comfortable and all the people caring for him were very nice, they couldn’t just replace that.

Around noon on the 12th day, the boy heard a commotion down the road, a few people were talking loudly, some cheered and some laughed. He assumed it was something good, and that he didn’t need to go hide anywhere, so instead he left the tent and decided to build a tiny sandcastle. Maybe Foolish would bring Junior or Finley again and he could show it off to them? He was almost done with the build when he heard someone approaching.

“Yogurt!” Fundy called out to him, and the boy stopped in the middle of fixing up a tower of his sandcastle. “I’m back!”

“Yeah! Look, it’s your dad!” Foolish called too, presumably just behind the man.

Did Yogurt feel happy, relieved? Of course he did, his dad was finally back, he was here and he wouldn’t leave again anytime soon… But at the same time, he felt strangely disappointed. Sad, even. The man said he’d be gone for a few days at most, and it’s been so so long since then, yet he was just running up to him as if nothing happened. As if he kept his word, his promise. That’s probably why Yogurt didn’t look in the direction of his voice, and instead went back to his build. It wasn’t unreasonable to be upset, was it? Soon, Fundy crouched down by his side and looked over the castle he was making while Foolish stopped on the boy’s other side.

“What are you making, buddy? Is this a sandcastle? It looks great!” his dad praised, and Yogurt did his best to stop his tail from wagging. With a pout, he continued making the castle. He’d ignore his dad until he apologized, that was the best way, wasn’t it?

“Did you make this all by yourself?” Foolish asked, also admiring his work. And Yogurt decided that since the man was the one to look after him, he could get an answer.

“Yeah!” he nodded, his pout getting replaced with a grin for a second.

“...Yogurt?” Fundy asked. “Hey, Yogurt, are you- Hey? Buddy? Can you look at me for a moment?” he tried to get his attention, and for a moment, the boy considered answering, but then Foolish snickered.

“Looks like I’m the dad now?” the man suggested. Yogurt laughed quietly at that, and his actual dad let out a dramatic gasp.

“What?! Yogurt, is that true?” he asked. Figuring that the man was playing along, the boy nodded before pointing at Foolish.

“Dad,” he announced, and Fundy gasped again, quickly getting to his feet.

“No, that’s-! I-” he stuttered out before seemingly collecting himself. “Fight me! Duel me! Foolish, duel me for custody!” he demanded, not angrily… just demanded.

“Sure,” the other man nodded. “Sure, we can do that,” he agreed, stifling a laugh. “When do you want to fight?” he asked.

“Now! Right now!” Fundy decided. Yogurt wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed what a great actor his dad was. “I don’t need to rest, let’s go now!”

“Are you…? Okay, sure. Come on, we can do that,” Foolish agreed, and with just a few steps, Fundy was in front of him. “Wait, here?”

“Hm…” the man hesitated. “No, let’s go… under the Eiffel tower! Let’s settle it there!”

And with that, they were off. Yogurt looked after them as they walked before returning to building his castle. Sure, he’d love to give his dad at least one hug before he’d go ‘duel’ with Foolish, but if he survived 12 days without that, 5 more minutes wouldn’t hurt. Because how long could a playful duel last? He hoped it’d take them just long enough for him to finish his build and look through the chests Fundy set up by the tent. They were mostly filled with materials to build their new house, but a few days earlier Yogurt spotted a nice flower growing between the desert and the sea and it was now somewhere with the items. It was meant to be a gift for when his dad would return, and it waited for the day for quite a while now, but the boy still wanted to give it to the man.

***

Fundy’s mind felt hazy, that was the best way to describe it. He was exhausted, he allowed himself to close his eyes just twice during his journey and had a nightmare both of those times. And as if that wasn’t enough to go through, he was now supposed to fight for his son. A sword in one hand and a shield in the other, he had to focus to keep his balance and come up with any kind of strategy, so he didn’t bother questioning the situation. Didn’t bother wondering why would Foolish try to do this, or how the strong bond he had with Yogurt could fall apart so easily. He just had to focus and win the duel, then he could rest.

His son was on the line.

The first time Foolish took a step toward him, his fight or flight instinct kicked in and the next thing he knew he was running. He stopped, no, he couldn’t do that. He returned to his spot and took a couple of breaths to calm down. His opponent laughed and asked if he still wanted to do the duel, as if Fundy had a choice. As if he could just step back and decide the fight wasn’t worth it. His grip on his sword tightened as he shot back a short confirmation. They agreed to fight until one of them surrenders, but he promised himself right there that he’d never do that. No, he’d win or he’d die fighting.

How was Foolish so calm about this? As if this was some stupid joke, and not…

***

Yogurt was already back in his tent, his castle long finished, when heavy footsteps in the sand appeared. He wasn’t all that surprised, his dad did seem tired while he left for the ‘duel’, he was probably barely awake now. He didn’t look at him yet, he was too busy putting the flower he prepared for him in one of the corners without making it too obvious. Before he could make sure it was hidden well enough, though, the man already spoke up.

“...Hey, Yogurt, I… I won the duel, I-” Fundy announced, and he didn’t sound just tired, but exhausted. His breaths were concerningly heavy, and he spoke slowly. “...Will you look at me now?”

The voice in which he said that immediately made Yogurt spin around. He sounded so sad, so tired, as if that was the only thing in the world that mattered to him anymore. The state in which the boy saw his dad was nowhere near what someone after a play-duel should look like. He was obviously injured, there was a cut running across his chest and some blood stained his clothes. Not a concerning amount, but it was still blood. With how exhausted he was on top of that, it was a miracle he was still standing. A miracle that didn’t last long, because almost as soon as his son finally looked at him, he tumbled to the ground.

“Oh, I- I’m so-” he tried to say while Yogurt quickly got to his feet and approached him. What happened? He’s never seen his dad so hurt before, what happened? “I thought I’d- I’d lose and you-” he tried to explain.

The boy finally put what happened together. He realized that his dad took the duel so much more seriously than he expected, that the man must’ve fought as if everything depended on it. And now that he won, and that his son finally looked at him again, he was just… barely holding back his tears. Yogurt’s ears flattened against his head as he felt oh-so-terribly guilty, he shouldn’t have ignored his father when he came back. He hesitantly stepped closer to the man and gave him the biggest hug he could. It usually helped, right?

“Dad,” he said quietly, his way of assuring the man that that’s what he saw him as.

“I- I’m so happy,” Fundy claimed, hugging his son back and rocking him gently to the sides. “M-my boy, my beautiful boy!”

And the child didn’t want to ever pull away from the hug. Once he did, to help his dad into the tent so he could rest, he spotted Foolish standing a bit from them, still on the road. He had a few scratches too, and the shield hanging loosely off the side of his hand had concerningly deep cuts. Yogurt quickly looked away from him and instead led Fundy to their ‘temporary home’. He helped him sit down on the blanket they set up before going to get the flower he previously put in the corner. It would cheer his dad up, surely it would.

“Dad?” he said again, getting the man’s attention. Even being called the title seemed to bring a smile to his face, but the boy still held out his gift.

“...Is that for me?” he asked, and Yogurt nodded. He carefully reached for it and looked it over, his smile only growing. “Thank you, it’s… it’s beautiful. Thank you, Yogurt. My boy. My child, my… oh, come here.”

He spread his hands for a hug, and his son didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around him again. Flower in his hand and his boy in his arms, Fundy allowed himself to finally relax. The next thing he knew, he was already lying down, his eyes closing on their own and Yogurt’s head resting against him as the boy muttered a goodnight despite the sun still being quite high in the sky. And Fundy shouldn’t sleep, he should do anything in his power to avoid the nightmares, but… just a short nap wouldn’t harm him, right? And he needed some rest after that duel for sure. He’d never understand why Foolish yielded after just a few seconds of fighting and despite not being too hurt, but he didn’t mind. He had his son. That was all that counted.

An hour or so later, Foolish came by, leaving a few healing potions by the tent before quickly backing away. Fundy slept through that of course, he’d probably sleep until the morning, but Yogurt watched the man until he was out of his sight. He wasn’t sure what happened during the duel, but Foolish certainly wasn’t his favorite ‘babysitter’ anymore.

***

Fundy was very reluctant to leave for another journey after that. Sure, someone would have to do it again and Quackity trusted him with that quest. Sure, going there helped with keeping him awake. Sure, his wounds healed nicely, especially with all the potions he found by the tent. Sure, he talked things through with Foolish and set everything straight. But still, what if… what if he had to go through all that again? What if he misunderstood something when he was back and exhausted, and it’d lead to another pointless conflict?

Yogurt was worried about his dad leaving too. He knew he’d never hold being gone for too long against him again, but he still didn’t want to be lonely. And while he too learned what happened during the duel, how Foolish surrendered the moment he realized how serious Fundy was, he still wasn’t sure if he wanted the man to be the one looking after him again. And who else could do that?

Eventually, Fundy had to start leaving again. He took that job upon himself and he couldn’t just back away from it. The goodbye he shared with his son was much more emotional now that they both knew how long a journey could take, he was convinced that the boy wouldn’t ever let go of him. When he finally left, he kept his hand in his pocket for the first few hours, gently holding the flower hidden deep inside of it. He left Yogurt in yet better hands this time, he spoke to basically all the citizens and they all agreed to check on his son every day, so he shouldn’t be as worried. Still, he couldn’t wait to come back.

Each time Fundy left, Yogurt was starting to accept it more. He missed his dad every time of course, but all the people taking care of him were still doing a good job with their new task, and he liked all of them for different reasons.

Purpled would always let him do what he wanted and he had a funny-looking dog Yogurt could play with after shapeshifting into a fox. Quackity would let him run around the casino if he promised to not damage anything, and if they weren’t there, the man would take him to his office and let him play with the shiny stones and items he stored there. Slime would tell him incredible stories about other citizens, his dad, people he barely heard of, and once they’d get bored of that, he could always do some funny tricks with how his body never seemed to be truly solid. Sam, if he ever had time to stop by the country and was put on ‘babysitting duty’, would gladly listen to anything Yogurt wanted to talk about, and they often just walked around Las Nevadas with the boy showing off all the things that seemed to pop up overnight.

And whenever Foolish ended up looking after him, he would often end up… inconvenienced. Sure, Fundy might’ve forgiven him for the duel thing, but it didn’t stop Yogurt from pulling some pranks. Nothing too harmful, of course, just some stupid things like water buckets spilled from not-too-high-up, or hiding for a bit the moment the man lost sight of him. Sure, it might’ve annoyed the man sometimes, but he still ended up laughing along after the initial shock. And it did give Yogurt a good opportunity to learn how to set up silly ‘traps’, so what was the harm in that?

No matter who was looking after him, though, whenever he’d as much as hear Fundy’s voice or footsteps, he’d drop everything and run in the man’s direction. Their reunions were always a good, happy moment, they hugged each other tightly and only let go when his dad remembered that he still had items to give to Quackity. Then, they would spend the rest of the day telling each other what happened while they were alone, Fundy talking about the breathtaking views he saw and dangerous situations he just briefly survived, and Yogurt recalling all the fun things he got to do while other people looked after him.

Fundy accepted the fact that he still made mistakes not long after his duel with Foolish. That no matter how long he spent with his son and how hard he tried, there would still be misunderstandings, mix-ups, and other issues. But each time Yogurt ran up to him cheerfully calling him ‘dad’, he was assured that it was okay. That they both learned from them, and that they wouldn’t repeat them. That no matter how many times he’d have to leave, he’d never come back to such a disaster again. He'd return to a happy home instead, and he wouldn't trade that for anything else.

[infernwetrust]

The Devil In Me [Michael Langdon x Fem Reader] Part 2

PART 1 HERE

MASTER LIST

Plot: What if we took the Antichrist, Michael Langdon and turned him into founder and leader of one of the largest cartel’s in California? And what’s even better, is that you’re by his side through it all.

Summary: You awake to family man, Michael and preparations for a trip to Miami take place. Duncan comes to a rude awakening. 

Warnings: domestic violence, drug use, swearing, threats, fluff, angst, mentions of loss of life, child loss, emotional, this is like kind of dark y’all.

WC: 4.0k

A/N: This was not suppose to take this long to write. It was a little emotionally taxing for me, so I had to space out when I was writing it because I would literally get stuck in a dark place. Thank you for reading! -Juno

The smell of pancakes and warm syrup hit your nose first upon fluttering your eyes open. Usually you were greeted by the warmth of your husband who either lay near by or cuddled you. But it appears that he isn't in bed this morning. He did, however, leave the curtains open just a little bit to let some sunlight in. Just enough for you to be able to see around the room. Grabbing your phone off the side table you checked the time which read, 8:30AM. You groaned, knowing that today was packed to the brim with various activities. Travel being one of them.

When Michael offered to take you and the kids with him, Duncan, and Jim to Miami, how could you say no? It was a business trip, of course, but nonetheless you were still grateful to be going. Duncan had just sealed the deal on a brand new warehouse, perfect for operations and expanding their network. Located in the heat of downtown Miami, they blended in well. And what was their front for it all? A nightclub.

You slowly pulled the covers off of you, yawning as you got up, stretching your arms over your head. You smiled as you stared down at the floor, remembering the events that took place after you and Michael's shower the previous night. It wasn't long before he had you out of your night gown for round 2. You picked it and your pair of panties off the floor, throwing them back on and making your way to the bathroom. Hickeys and bite marks covered your chest as you turned the sink on, splashing water on your face before washing it all together. You quickly brushed over your teeth, knocking your morning breath out. You knew you would return shortly after you ate to brush them again anyways.

Throwing on your favorite pair of house shoes you made your way down the stairs and immediately into the kitchen. The sight in front of you made your heart swell. On the table were 3 plates, stacked with pancakes, bacon, and eggs. In a nearby bowl, fruit. Two glasses, for you and him of course, filled to the brim with orange juice. But that's not what made your heart swell. Michael, for the most part, always waited for you before he started eating.

Michael sat at the dining table, hair messy, shirtless, and in gray sweat pants. Sat up in his lap was Junior, the back of his head firmly planted into Michael's chest. In Junior's hand was a piece of pancake that he simply just shoved into his mouth, his eyes glued to whatever Michael had put on his phone for the boy to watch. With him distracted, Michael had his attention on little Malcolm who sat in his high chair, which he had moved closer to him. You watched as Michael fed him his favorite flavored yogurt to which the boy smiled in returned after his father took the spoon from his mouth.

You cursed yourself for forgetting your phone in the bedroom and you wish you could capture this exact moment forever. But there would always be opportunity for more. Michael is nothing shy of a family man and you know he always enjoys his boys being near by, even on the days where he's just fed up with it all. Feeling a pair of eyes lingering on him, Michael turned his head to look, a smile on his face when he made eye contact with you.

"Hi mama." Malcolm said, also noticing your presence, briefly taking his attention away from Michael's phone to look at you, his face a mess.

"Hi mommy's messy baby." you replied, walking over to give him a kiss on his forehead, followed by 3 quick kisses against Michael's lips. "And hello to you too."

"Why, hello." Michael responded. "So nice of you to join us."

"And miss out on your pancakes? No way, sir."

Michael didn't cook often, but when he did, he made it count. You wondered where he picked up his cooking skill. And then you saw him one day, in the kitchen, following the personal chef around. That day he had even wore his own little apron.

"Hey." Michael said to his personal chef, who stuck by his side since the beginning, Dawn. He stood at the kitchen counter with her, tall and proud. His blonde hair covered by a chef hat.

"Yes, Michael dear." she responded, pausing what she was doing to look at him.

"Don't tell Y/N, okay?" he asked her. "I want it to come as surprise when I do actually cook."

"Of course. I'll even teach you how to make some of her favorites."

He smiled at her again before the two resumed what they doing. You could snap a picture right now, you thought to yourself. How his brothers would LOVE to see Michael's EXTRA soft side, but you stood put, the widest smile and deepest blush on your face as you watched your then, fiancé, learn how to cook for you.

You walked over to Malcolm's high chair, grabbing his also messy face and lightly squeezing his cheeks together before sticking your tongue out at him. He giggled, attempting to wrap his tiny hand around your wrist.

"Don't worry, mommy didn't forget about you." you said. "Finally letting your dad feed you, huh?"

"I know, huh?" Michael huffed out. "No fighting before hand either."

"He's sweet when wants to be." You joined Michael at the table, sliding your hand across his back as you did so.

"Daddy, I'm done." Junior said, looking up at his father.

"That's my boy." Michael praised, kissing the top of his head. Junior almost never finished his food, so when he did, it was worthy of praise. "Go play the living room for a bit,'I'll grab you to come brush your teeth in a minute, okay?"

"Kay." the boy replied as he hopped off Michael's lap and ran into the living room, excited to get his hands on one of his toys.

"No mess either please, baby!" you yelled, hoping he would hear you. Michael smirked because as you said that, the both of you heard the toy box dump out. "Shit..."

"Bold of you to assume that he wasn't going to do that." Michael mocked.

"You hush and tell me what the plans are for today." You earned a small chuckle from him as he laid his hand over your knee, quickly glancing at Malcolm who had now took the matters of eating yogurt into his own hands, literally. All over his hair, face, and hands, yogurt. Michael pouted at the sight even though it was cute.

"Daddy was so hoping that he wouldn't have to give you a bath before we left." Michael sighed. "But silly daddy for looking away for 2 minutes, huh?" Michael reached his hand out to tickle the yogurt covered child.

"You still have so much to learn." you said. "Rule 1. Never take your eyes off the baby in the high chair."

"That is so not rule 1, Y/N."

You and Michael talked for what seemed like hours while the two of you ate breakfast. He started by letting you know why everyone was going to Miami. It was so fascinating to you how he was always so well informed. He told you everything, down to the exact number in income this would generate both from the nightclub sales and the narcotics sale. Jim wanted to set up a marijuana plant down there, but Duncan had convinced him that the best place to grow for right now was right here in California. He even showed you the floor layout of the both the nightclub and the underground warehouse on his phone.

Along the minor details were where everyone was going to be staying, how everyone was going to be transported around Miami, fun things to do when there was free time, and some really popular places to dine.

"Ready to give Malcolm a bath?" Michael questioned as he took the last drink of his orange juice.

"Um." You began. "That was your job."

"Just seeing if you were paying attention." he grinned, getting up to clear the table. You watched as he throughly rinsed the dishes off before putting them in the dishwasher. Most of the time you or one of the housekeepers kept up with the home duties, but Michael knew when he needed to step in and he did, every so often, just like today. Despite his extremely busy schedule, he gave you your break because you always took care of him through and through.

"Thinking about cutting my hair when we get to Miami, yeah?"

"Michael, who do you know in Miami that can cut your hair?"

"I don't know, but Duncan does."

"How short are you thinking about cutting it?"

"Something along the lines of Duncan, but just a little longer."

"Ooo you know that's-,"

"One of your favorites. Yes my love, I do know." He turned around to face you, leaning against the counter, giving you a wink.

"And the blonde just tops it off. God, I love you."

"I love you too." Michael laughed. "Fortunate to be the only blonde out of triplets, huh?"

///

The both of them laid there, her head against his chest, sweat making their bodies glisten as the moon light shined through the window of her bedroom. This isn't the first time Duncan has hooked up with Michael's head bartender, Elizabeth. In fact, it quickly became a regular thing, the two of them finding peace within one another through a common pain. Loss. If he was stupid enough, he would actually think he was falling in love with her. Was he? He knew he really liked her and that he enjoyed her company, whether it be platonic or sexual. But it wasn't love was it? Her fingers ran circles around his chest as it rose and fell gently.

Elizabeth was just a few inches shorter than Duncan, light brown eyes, a smile that could kill, and a body that Duncan absolutely adored. Usually for Duncan, his one night stands, stayed one night stands. But with her it was different. He liked the chase. And when he finally did fuck her, he ruined her. But his trips to the bar when she worked became regular and soon enough they began talking. And of course their relationship remained private.

"I could lay here with you forever." Duncan said, breaking the silence.

"Then why don't you?" she questioned.

"You know why, Liz." Duncan sighed.

"Duncan, anyone with eyes can see how unhappy you are." She lifted up a little bit, propping her head up in her hand before resting her other one back on Duncan's chest. "She's done nothing but drain you."

"I know."

"Then if you know why don't you just leave her?"

"It's not that simple."

Truth is, she reminded him so much of, Thomas, Tommy for short. When Duncan had lost his 3 year old son, Tommy, a year after Michael stumbled across Bryce, his entire world fell apart. She was the only living memorabilia that he had left of his precious Tommy. How could he leave that behind? No matter how toxic she was, he couldn't pull himself away and that was the only reason.

He had long fallen out of love with Tommy's mother way before they lost him. But for his son, he stayed with her and put up with all the shit she put him and their son through. And then all it took was one careless mistake and he was gone. And it's been 3 years. No he's not over it. No he hasn't forgiven her for leaving their son unattended. No he doesn't know how to move on, not yet.

When Duncan stumbled into his luxurious penthouse that he shared with, Samantha, he felt uneasy. He took his shoes off at the door, gently setting them down. He walked, slowly, to the master bedroom where the door was just cracked open slightly. And now he had his reason.

The exact same guy she told him not to worry about, was the exact same guy who laid in his bed, curled up against his, well, could he even say girlfriend? He took a deep breath, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. What could he even say? What could he even do? And then he just snapped. He walked in, grabbing the guy by his throat and taking his pistol out of his waist band, pressing it between his eyes.

"Woah man! What the fuck?!" he yelped, startling Samantha awake.

"You have 10 seconds to get your shit up off this floor and get the fuck out of my house before I blow your brains out." Duncan said through a clenched jaw.

"Duncan wa-," Samantha began to say but he cut her off.

"Shut up, bitch."

The guy wasted no time picking his clothes up off the floor and scurrying out of the room, Duncan pointing his gun at him the entire time. Duncan slammed the bedroom door shut behind him, scratching his head with his gun before throwing his hand back down to his side.

"Please don't kill me." Samantha begged on the brink of tears. Duncan chuckled, walking over to her quickly causing her to scream.

"Shut up." he grabbed her by her throat, slamming her down on the bed.

"Dunc, please... I'm sorry."

"I'm gonna talk now. And you're gonna listen. And when I'm done, you're gonna pack all of your shit and you're gonna leave. And if you don't, I'll kill you."

///

Michael took it upon himself to go get Duncan. He was suppose to come over early to meet with him and Jim to go over some analytics before leaving for Miami in evening, but as Michael continued to talk to Jim and continued looking at the time, Duncan still wasn't here. He had tried calling and texting, but he had no success. He had you and Jim try as well, but no success. He was worried now, so he made the 10 minute drive to his brother's apartment.

It was a mutual agreement to have spare keys for everyone's residency, but only for emergencies. Michael unlocked the door to his brother's place, quickly noticing where he left his shoes. So he was home and that was reassuring, but, Duncan never left his shoes by the door. Michael did the same, however, leaving his shoes by the door so he could tread lightly. He could hear a faint noise coming from Duncan's bedroom that only intensified the closer he got. That faint noise was now replaced clearly by arguing, but it sounded one sided. It was just Duncan that was yelling, but underneath all that yelling he heard a softer voice, crying.

Michael inhaled deeply, gently putting his hand on the doorknob. Every second that he stood there, slowly turning the knob as to not make a single sound, felt like a minute. He pushed the door open as far as he could, but Duncan in his new heightened rage, noticed. Still holding Sam down by her throat, he pointed his gun at the door.

"Woah woah woah." Michael said calmly, putting his hands up for Duncan to see. "It's just me."

"Do we not knock now anymore?" Duncan questioned, his eyes red and stained with tears as he looked his brother in his face.

"You weren't answering any of our phone calls and we got worried. I just came to check on you. Can you stop pointing that thing at me? I'm your brother, man. Just put down all together. I'm sure this is something that can be talked over."

"You first." Duncan replied, squinting his eyes.

"Dunc, you have go to be-,"

"I said you first!"

"Okay. Okay." Michael said, reaching behind him to pull his gun out, which he clearly showed to Duncan, finger off the trigger. He squatted down slowly, putting it on the floor, before kicking it to the side.

"Talked over?" Duncan mocked. "Her being the reason behind Tommy's death is something that can just be talked over?! Me coming home to another man in my bed is something that can just be talked over?!"

Michael knew the history behind Duncan and Samantha. Everyone did and while they tried their hardest to convince him to call it quits, Duncan never listened. He was too afraid to let go. Michael knew one day that his brother would snap underneath all his bottled up stress, but he didn't think it would of been this long and unexpectedly. Today out of all days.

"Okay." Duncan continued, tightening his grip on her neck as she just laid there, speechless, the tears pouring out of her eyes as she held onto to Duncan's arm. "So we talk out and then what? She gets to move on right? And be happy because it doesn't look like any of the shit we've gone through has affected her any. In and out of my life for 7 years, Michael. I'm 28 now."

"D-,"

"In and out of Tommy's life for 3 years he was alive. I basically was a single dad, but I kept letting this bitch come back because I loved her and when has ole Duncan ever loved a woman, huh? I should just kill her." Duncan turned his attention back to her, putting the gun back against her forehead.

"Duncan, I know you're still hurting over Tommy. Fuck, man. We all are, but what is killing her going to fix? It's not going to bring Tommy back. It's not going to take away the pain you're feeling. Duncan, you lost a child."

"It'll be justice for, Tommy."

"How do you know that this is what Tommy wanted? You don't. Listen to me, please."

"She doesn't get to walk away again." He cocked his gun, pressing it to her forehead again. Duncan, caught up in his own rage didn't even realize that Michael had stepped closer to him and he was still coming. "Why do you deserve to live? You took away someone else's life, so it's only fair right?"

"Duncan I didn't mean for Tommy to be killed!" she yelled through her tears.

"Bullshit!" he yelled back, when Michael grabbed him, wrapping his arm around his neck, before roughly pulling him away, causing him to drop the gun, which Michael swiftly kicked towards himself, picking it up and pointing it at Samantha, arm still locked around Duncan.

"You need to leave, now." Michael said, Duncan fighting to get out of his tight hold. "Get your clothes on, take your personals and just, leave. We'll send everything to your brother when we get back from our trip. If you ever show your face near or around Duncan or anyone he's close to again, I'll make sure they can't find your body, deal?" She nodded, quickly trying to get herself together, stumbling around as she tried to catch her breath. Michael waited until she was completely gone before releasing Duncan, who immediately turned around, shoving Michael back.

"Fuck you." he spat through his tears he finally let fully fall. "Why do you always get to save the day, huh?" Duncan shoved Michael again and he kept shoving him. When Michael got tired, he pushed Duncan's hands away, pulling his brother in for a tight hug instead.

"I can't say I fully understand how you're feeling, Dunc. But I can say that I get it." Michael said in the hug. "And I'm here for you. We all are." Duncan softened just a little bit, allowing for him to return the hug to Michael.

"I-," Duncan began to say, but he choked on his own words.

"You don't have to say anything. Just go get cleaned up and ready to go, okay? I'll probably be in your kitchen. Jim says you have really good snacks." Duncan pulled back to look Michael in his eyes again and he couldn't help but chuckle just a little bit.

"Yeah, okay." was all he said as he turned around to walk into his bathroom. Shutting the door behind him, he took one look at himself in the mirror. His face scratched from where Sam had grabbed him when he first choked her. His eyes red stained from his tears. He sighed, opening the medicine cabinet, retrieving a small vial with a white powdery substance in it. He put a some on the back of his hand before snorting it up his nose. He exhaled loudly, letting the tears fall again as he put it back up, coming face to face with himself again.

Great. His nose was bleeding. He quickly unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it onto the floor. He was going to reach for a towel, when he came face to face with the tattoo that took up his entire left side. He paid 4,000 dollars for the whole thing. It was a very detailed sketch of his favorite moment with Tommy. He shocked him every time how realistic it looks, but Jim always hooked his brothers up with the best because he knew they would do the same for him. It's Duncan and Tommy, both squatted down. Duncan has his arms wrapped around the boy as he's holding a model toy fire truck. In the background was a very detailed Christmas tree as it was Tommy's birthday on the 25th of December. In beautiful scripted font below it says:

Thomas 2016-2019

And a little hand print that matches, Tommy's to complete it. He gripped both sides of the sink, staring into his own eyes once again as he cried, but he couldn't help but laugh too because of how stupid he was.

"I'm so sorry, Tommy." he said. "I'm so so so sorry. And I'll keep saying it because I know I will never be sorry enough. I miss you so much."

///

The car ride was silent between Duncan and Michael as they drove back to Michael's home. Michael let him get his usual morning coffee. And when Michael stopped at the store because Jim wanted another pack of cigarettes, he got Duncan his favorite pack too. It was rare that Duncan ever smoked, though, but Michael knew he needed it. He even let him smoke one in the car, sunroof and windows cracked. He didn't even bother to try to hide his dilated pupils from his coke intoxication, the only thing that was keeping him grounded. His head rested against the window and he stared blankly, but his mind was far from blank.

When they got back, Michael helped Duncan move his bags over to the car they would be using to go to the airport. Duncan trailed behind Michael as they walked around to the back, where Jim sat in one of outdoor sofas, typing away on his business computer. All it took was one glance over and Jim could see that Duncan had been crying.

Duncan sat down next to Jim, taking out another cigarette from his box and lighting it. Michael tossed Jim his own box to which Jim smiled and nodded before turning his attention back to his other, clearly distraught, sibling. Jim threw his arm around Duncan's shoulder, pulling him closer to him, resting his temple against Duncan's. He wasn't going to question him. He knew that he would be told when Duncan was ready. But considering Duncan's state at home, he already kind of had an idea.

"We're gonna have a kick ass 3 weeks, okay?" Jim said. "The 3 of us. Like it's always been. Palm trees and beach babes. And I know whatever has got you so upset, sucks, but we're right behind you. I'm sure you know that."

And then Duncan began letting the tears fall once again as Jim tried to console him. He use to be the head strong one of the pack before he let Sam into his life. And now he was stuck and confused, searching for answers and searching for reasons why. He exhaled his cigarette slowly before tossing it into the ashtray.

"Let's just go over these analytics, yeah?" Duncan croaked out. "Business is business boys."

"That's my boy." Jim said, patting and squeezing his shoulder.

Taglist: @jimmason @angelicmichael @whatcodysaid @9layerdevilfoodcake  @xavierplympton @guiltyfiend @theneverendinghunger

[soundofseventeen]

Long Way Home (Jeon Wonwoo)

I would just like to take a moment and say FUCK PLEDIS, lmao. Also Haley requested this forever ago and I’m just posting it, so I hope this is okay.

Inspo

Word count: 5325

You could already hear Minghao scoffing at you in your head. He didn’t believe in perfect days so if you even explained the weekend’s events, he wouldn’t have believed you. So naturally, you were just gonna tell him it was a good time. The sun was almost done setting and you could feel the tan/burn of your days spent outside. Wonwoo cracked open the windows to let the hot air out and turned on the ac, letting the coolness hit your face and making you feel sleepy, and you could hear faint chuckling.

Spending a weekend in Changwon to (properly) meet his family turned out much better than you expected. Instead of taking a plane or train, he opted to make a road trip out of it, picking you up at the crack of dawn on Friday morning. You'd stopped at the gas station at the beginning of the trip, buying all the soda and junk food your arms could hold and rolling the windows down as the sunrise progressed into the morning. The more the world woke up, the more energetic he became and the louder he cranked up the volume.

While you did admire his onstage persona, intimidating you with the way he spewed venom when he rapped, it was another thing to hear him sing off-key to your song choices and giving you his dopey grin whenever you judged him. Wonwoo pointed to everything he remembered from his childhood along the way, stopping at a few places that he was sure that you’d like, like the frozen yogurt place that offered more toppings than he knew what to do with; or the second hand bookstore that gave away bookmarks after buying more than seven books. His favorite part of the road trip had been pulling over at the pet shop he begged his parents to stop at when he was younger but obviously said no.

Wonwoo laughed a lot the whole way there, enjoying the warmth of the sun through the windows and threading his fingers through yours and occasionally bringing them to his lips and kissing your hand, almost forgetting it was the weekend where he had planned to introduce you to his parents and trying his best to keep your nerves calm. It looked like it worked because he didn’t see you playing with your hair or drumming your fingers anywhere or even looking out the window. In fact, when he was about to ask how you were feeling you had fallen asleep somewhere along the way and he just laughed, letting go of your hand.

From all the stops you made, you didn’t get to his parents’ place until mid afternoon. His dad was outside washing the car when you pulled up. Wonwoo got out first and greeted him, trying to make up for all the lost time in that hug. You had to look away from that because it felt too personal for you even though you had those moments multiple times before. They talked for a moment and then he turned around and waved you over. You took a deep breath, fiddling with the door handle and you slowly got out. 

“It’s so good to see you Y/N!” Wonwoo’s father greeted you cheerfully. He didn’t know whether to shake your hand, bow, or hug you right away. He opted for the last choice. “Wonwoo talks nonstop about you! I was afraid he was making this up!” 

“It’s so nice to see you too,” you smiled at him. You kept your grip firm but not enough to hurt him. An awkward pause from you. “Thank you for having us over this weekend.”

“It’s no trouble at all. I missed seeing you here.” He fished out the keys from his pocket and pressed the panic button on it, not saying anything else until another figure emerged from the door.

“Yah! I told you to stop making noise before the neighbors file a complaint on us again!” The woman who became like a second mom to you marched over to him and smacked his shoulder. “Have you forgotten my name or something?” 

“I could never,” he chuckled, “but our guests are here.”

“And you couldn’t take them inside?!” She shook her head at, finger raised and ready to scold him. 

“It was easier if you did it.” He turned the nozzle back on the hose, the water spraying onto the car. “I still have this to clean.” He momentarily aimed it at her, and she screamed, which made him laugh.

“My children! How are you?” She kissed Wonwoo’s cheeks, pinching one of them and straightening his shirt to keep him presentable. “Y/N, you’re looking as lovely as ever.”

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, oh my gosh.” You wrapped her arms around her and did that little dance while hugging. “I’ve missed coming here. How are you?” You missed her warmth.

“Everyday is a good day.” Wonwoo’s mom brushed some crumbs off your face. “I’d invite you guys in, but my house is still a mess. Bohyuk won’t be home until after his detention.” She shook her head just thinking about it. “So, we can stay out here for a couple minutes. Or are you tired?”

“Y/N slept the whole way; I was so bored.”

“You woke me up early,” you whined. “No one wakes up before dawn.”

“Some of us sleep at dawn,” Wonwoo retorted, slinging an arm around your shoulders and trapping you in his hold.

“You’re not human. Ahh! Wonwoo, let me go.” 

“First say you’re sorry.” He didn’t know how much it hurt to laugh this much with you, and you weren’t even doing anything remotely funny. He finally let you go though, panting hard to catch his breath. “You will be the death of me, you know that?”

“Am not!”

“Uh-huh.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“YES….DAD!” Wonwoo hollered, spitting out some of the water that had landed in his mouth when you got sprayed. “What was that for?”

“I see the bickering hasn’t gone away. Since you guys wanna fight so much, you can go pick up your brother after his detention.”

“Who’s fighting?” Wonwoo looked at you. “We’re not fighting. We’re best friends.” He draped his arm over your shoulder again, bringing you close to him, which made you blush for some reason and you smacked him. “Aren’t we friends, Y/N?”

“I’ve never seen you in my life. You’re mistaking me for someone else.”

*

“This is why you should go along with my foolproof plans,” Wonwoo said a little while later, towel drying his hair and offering another to you. He noticed you still shivering from the cold so he pulled you out into the sun, hoping to warm you up.

“Nah, you still end up getting us in trouble.” You wrung the water from your shirt, surprised at how much it managed to absorb from the sprays Wonwoo’s dad hit you both with and then took it from him gratefully. 

“I’m sorry. My parents are a little more excited for us visiting than I thought.” He brought the towel to your arms, drying you up a little.

“You don’t have to apologize. They miss you. The idol life is hard for everyone, you know?” You shuddered when his cold hand touched your cheek to press your foreheads together. Some of the droplets fell from his hair and landed somewhere on you.

“The rumors are true. Gross.” You both turned your attention to the voice, pinpointing it as Wonwoo’s younger brother as he gagged. “Oh my god, it’s my worst nightmare come true.”

“Shut up. You knew this was coming.”

“I want you to know that I lost a bet for saying you weren’t gonna….stay away from me. You’re wet and I don’t want Y/N’s germs on me.” He waved at you. “Hi Y/N!”

“Hi Bohyuk,” you smiled at him. “Still getting into trouble I see.”

“It wasn’t my fault,” he protested. “If the teacher kept to the right instead of going to the left, then she wouldn’t have been showered with baby powder.”

“How juvenile.”

“Sure, you made the move on my babysitter, but I’m the juvenile one.”

You winked at Bohyuk. Due to babysitting him, you and Wonwoo had become friends. Not best friends who told each other everything, but occasionally hung out at school and sometimes studied at the local library before he went away to train to become an idol. And as Bohyuk grew up, the Jeons didn’t require your services anymore but they helped you get another job as a thanks for your help. 

You weren’t sure how you and Wonwoo managed to reconnect, no matter how many times you looked back on it. You just remembered that one day you were closing up at work….and you swore you just blinked when Wonwoo had dropped by for a visit. Even then, your feelings didn’t develop right away. You didn’t feel your heart break when he left again, and you didn’t chase him to see if he felt something. There was that sadness, yes, but you got over it just as quickly as it came. Always bad with texting during one of the times you exchanged numbers, he only responded when he remembered to and he made up for it with lengthy paragraphs and e-gift cards for you. But once he debuted, you saw him either onstage or in photocards.

And when you moved to Seoul to fill the hunger you had for adventure….nothing happened….at least, not at first. You didn’t bump into him at a coffee shop where he invited you to dinner and confess his feelings for you when he dropped you off at night; and he didn’t spy you in the crowd during one of his comebacks and make his forget lines. In fact, the first time he saw you, he sped through your neighborhood and saw you throwing out the trash, but he wasn’t even sure it was you, so he forgot about even asking you. 

Your paths eventually crossed one day while coming back from work and you picked up dinner you ordered ahead of time. He had been there with Soonyoung and Chan, waiting for the rest of their members when you walked in through the door when he saw you. He had been in the middle of a story but the bell dinging interrupted him. The funny thing was that he didn’t stutter or stop his story when your gazes locked; he merely smiled and waved at you and continued as if you weren’t there, but it wasn’t until you were getting ready for bed that he had messaged you on one of your social media accounts asking why you didn’t say hi or let him know sooner you were in town, but otherwise made no other move to make plans to hang out with you. 

You supposed the thing that got the ball rolling was finding him at a bookstore. Only instead of him looking for books like you were, he was on a coffee run with Seungkwan, but while waiting for their orders, he saw you in the young adult section, taking pictures of the covers and possibly sending them to someone. He left Seungkwan hanging in the middle of the conversation to ask what you were looking for, which scared you and made you drop your phone. By the time you picked it up, he already had a couple of books in his hands, which he swore you would like because he enjoyed them a lot. In the middle of that, he apologized through his laughter And with that he pulled out his membership card for the discount and shooed you to the checkout line and went back to check on Seungkwan who looked offended at having his story time ruined but had the self control to not ask who you were until they were in the confinements of the car and he mentioned you were an old friend.

You asked him about the books….if they had been made into movies or a series or something, and gave him your honest thoughts and opinions, and he offered his own. He seemed more surprised at the fact that he had forgotten how well you could discuss literary works and even though you had different opinions on each, he respected that. He didn’t even think that it would turn into something more (and neither did you), so he didn’t think much about it every time he asked you to go out with him. But then after misreading the signs one night, you kissed him. 

Although he had been shocked, he was also pleasantly surprised at how much he liked it, but he asked you to take it slow with him because of his life and he didn’t want to hurt you if anything were to come out of it. And he credited you for being as patient as you were. He sent you his schedules for the week (and sometimes the month) to see when it’d be okay to see you for more than just your casual outings and after Jihoon knocked some sense into him, he dove in and asked you on a proper date, unsure if it had been the right thing to do.

And now as he looked at you passing the plate to his mom and how you listened intently to whatever story she had been telling you, he figured it was worth it...even when you caught him staring and stuck your tongue out at him.

*

Saturday had brought you cruising the neighborhood and bickering over trying to remember what the abandoned buildings once held. You waved to vaguely familiar faces asking each other if someone was your friend or his. It was Wonwoo’s turn to play the music, but none of it matched the vibe of the day, so naturally, you skipped songs until they felt right 

You stopped by the library, a little heartbroken to hear that the librarian who used to help you two find books on several occasions had passed away. The last time you saw him before you left for Seoul, he had expressed how much he would’ve loved to see you both at the same table one day and fighting over whatever it was people your age argued about again. They did, however, have a photo hanging by the kids’ section as a memorial and Wonwoo let you rest your head on his shoulder while you paid your respects and spoke softly about how your lives came to be like this. You stayed long enough to read a chapter book from your childhood and renew your library cards knowing full well you wouldn’t come back anytime soon and promised the photo of the deceased librarian that you’d stop here every time you were in town.

For lunch, you stopped at a Chinese restaurant where you found out that the head chef there was now the owner of the chain. She remembered you two as the ones who’d order the biggest plate of orange chicken and split it but always left the vegetables on your plate. She led you to your favorite table, feeling a little guilty at seeing your names carved in there from your adolescent days. For old time’s sake, you ordered the same food, only this time you got your own food since you could afford it now. Wonwoo slurped his noodles loudly, partly to annoy you and partly because food that good needed to be known by making as much noise as possible. The chef/boss even comped your meal because of how adorable you two were together and she seemed pleased to know she played a small role in it. Wonwoo may have left a really big tip as a thanks.

In the afternoon, he brought you to the wide schoolyard of your middle school days. You sat under the big shady tree where you’d hang out with your small group of friends and watched Wonwoo walk to the bench where he hung out with his friends. You brought out a journal and a small speaker to listen to music to fill the silence you didn’t wanna hear just yet. You caught your journal up on the events so far, not leaving any details out and just proclaiming your love for the haven the weekend created. 

Wonwoo had with him a soccer ball and kicked against the gate, creating a ruckus and you asking him to knock it off, mostly because it wasn’t the noise he had in mind. He watched the way you scribbled across the pages, wondering what you could’ve been writing, seeing as though he’s been with you and nothing really seemed worth remembering. After a few more “goals” he scored, he sat down next to you and closed his eyes, to gain some of his strength back. He didn’t ask you to read what you wrote but he asked what you were thinking about, letting your words paint a picture in his imagination At one point, in a fit of boredom he took all his stuff back to the car and re-emerged with the guitar that Jihoon let him borrow. He was still practicing how to play it, so he wasn’t all that great yet, but it didn’t discourage him. He was still playing when you asked for the keys to trade your journal for your switch, figuring a video game seemed like fun. 

When the late afternoon turned to dusk, you both stood up, having gotten a lot further in your respective books than you expected, and stretched, letting the blood flow across your bodies and feeling lightheaded with the sudden movements. He grabbed your hand and together, you explored the campus, reminiscing about the worst and most useless classes ever thought of and why they even existed.

“Wonwoo, I’m not saying you’re wrong, but algebra? We kinda need that. Computer skills on the hand….”

“I could live my whole life without knowing whether parentheses or exponents, especially when you add letters to the equation...no pun intended.” He pointed to the woodshop class, ranting about the stupidy of school districts needing permission to teach sex ed classes but apparently preteens were mature enough to handle heavy machinery that could cause bodily harm and how he almost sliced his finger one time because the board he needed for a project wouldn’t cooperate with him.

“Do you remember this is where we first had lunch together after I started watching Bohyuk?” Wonwoo shook his head and you continued, hoping to jog his memory. “You didn’t say hi or anything. You literally just sat-” you pushed him down on the seat, you nearly falling on him but catching yourself in time, “-right there and started eating your chicken burger as if it was the most normal thing in the world.” You smiled a bit. “I didn’t even know who you were and you scared me.”

He nodded. “I remember some of that. But I only needed to tie my shoe and then you started talking and you haven’t stopped since then. I didn’t have lunch with you though. That was probably a different time. We didn’t become friends until way later.”

“It didn’t happen like that. We became friends really fast….stop shaking your head! My memory is better than yours.”

“What did we have for breakfast?”

You opened your mouth, ready to fire off the first thing you had this morning, but then you scrunched your face up, trying to remember. Was it pancakes….no! They were waffles! You dunked them syrup….right? You were pretty sure you had juice though. Wonwoo had coffee and maybe a bagel….you think. “I-” Your eyes darted everywhere, anything to spark a memory, but you came up empty. You closed your mouth again, lower lip sticking out.

“That’s what I thought,” he said smugly. He squatted a little to get to your eye level. “Who’s my favorite person in the world?” He reached out to poke your cheek to get you to smile. “Come on, friend. Who is it?”

“No,” you pouted, shaking your head at Wonwoo when his smile widened.

“What did I get you for our first official date?” 

“Coasters with kittens you and Seokmin named after the Weasley twins.” You weren’t sure why you remembered that, but it just stuck with you. “Stop trying to be cute with me, you little shit.”

“Okay, fine.” he kissed your forehead, chuckling. “We became friends that day. And what else do you remember about those days?”

“I saw you a lot at the book fairs; you were in the school’s top 30 biggest readers, and you kissed someone under the basketball court during PE once.” 

“I didn’t know you had a crush on me back then.” He pinched your cheek lightly. Well, he’d probably never tell you that he had one on you for about four days, but it went away. But he’d say just about anything to get that blush on your cheeks, even if it meant accidentally busting you but you not admitting to it.

“Come on, let’s go home already. Your mom’s probably waiting for us so we can all eat.”

“Hey, Jagi?” He had to know now, even if you weren’t gonna give him a clear answer.

“What?”

“Did you really have a crush on me?”

“What’s important is that we’re dating now and not reliving the most embarrassing parts of my life.”

He took that as a maybe.

*

Sunday morning, after staying up a little too late playing many, many rounds of Mario Kart, Wonwoo’s parents decided on an impromptu family day at the beach despite knowing that you’d have to leave later in the day to get back to Seoul at a (somewhat) reasonable hour. You made sure you had all your stuff packed so you wouldn’t forget anything and you joined the Jeon family for an early-ish breakfast with Wonwoo’s mom pouring too much syrup on her husband’s waffles, despite his protests of not liking it anymore. (He took one bite of them though and proceeded to snatch the bottle away and almost drown them in the gooey mess.) Bohyuk was more interested in whatever noise was coming from his phone than anything else, and Wonwoo almost falling asleep on his waffles. 

You chucked one of the wadded up receipts from your pocket at him and he jumped up, nearly knocking his glass of milk over and you laughed. He seemed wide awake the rest of the day though because he sang all his favorite songs at the top of his lungs on the drive to the beach while you fed him gummy worms and constantly asked him if you were there yet, to which at one point, he pulled over on the side of the road, unlocked the passenger door and told you to get out. 

Once the scent of salt hit your nostrils, you bounced in your seat excitedly, talking at a million words a minute about the last time you spent the day at the beach and how it’s felt like forever since you felt like a kid and had he not been driving, he would’ve kissed your head at your cuteness, but he did take your hand and squeezed it. But when your feet actually touched the sand, you remembered just how much you hated it when it got into your shoes and socks, so you took them off, not caring you’d eventually get blisters from how hot the ground was.

It wasn’t too fully packed with people but still you didn’t stray too far from the family, watching Wonwoo slowly dip his feet in the water but make no other effort to go further inside because Bohyuk was the dutiful brother trying to push him inside. 

You wrote down the non interesting events in your journal, enjoying the waves crashing on the shore and the gulls flapping their wings and reluctantly reading a couple entries to the curious mom. You drank your water happily to keep you hydrated, especially since the sun seemed warmer than most days. Wonwoo did call for you sometime later, and you raced to the water, jumping eagerly over the waves and grasping at his hand when one almost knocked you over. A little before you had to leave, you and Wonwoo walked through the shore, holding hands and just enjoying each other’s company. Truth be told, you didn’t want to leave; you wanted to stay in this paradise, where you didn’t have to worry about anything except maybe falling into the water and possibly taking Wonwoo down with you.

Eventually, Wonwoo did have to gently remind you that home was quite a ways away and a few of the boys wouldn’t forgive him if he didn’t show up, and he had to pull you of the water to say goodbye to his parents. Wonwoo’s mom cried a little, saying she’d miss you both and Wonwoo’s dad hinted at you staying a little longer, going as far as saying that he could call someone at Pledis to excuse him for one more day, and the idea was tempting but you had to go and they only let you leave when you promised you’d come back soon. 

The sun had finally set when you were at the halfway point of home, and you were proud of yourself for staying up with Wonwoo as long as you did. He didn’t have much to say other than asking if you were hungry from time to time.

“You’re not ready to go home yet, are you?” you asked, stifling a yawn. You managed to crack a small smile when his hand found yours and entwined them.

“Not yet. I had so much fun this weekend.” He snuck a peek over at you scrolling through your phone, the brightness illuminating your face. “Are you still scared of my parents?”

“Yes and no. If we break up, it’d be a little hard to tell them that, don’t you think?”

“Or we can get married and hope we end up like them.”

“Jeon Wonwoo, you haven’t even told me you love me yet, and you’re already deciding our future.” You were grateful that he couldn’t see you blushing, but you didn’t feel like outing yourself by asking him to turn down the air. You had to admit the idea was nice though. 

“I didn’t say I love you. I’m just saying that if you don’t wanna tell my mom why we broke up, this can be an option for us and she’d never know.”

You could feel your eyes closing, the small banter tiring you out. Maybe he could make it home without you bothering him. The big neon signs could keep him company and possibly feed him since he often talked about grabbing a bite to eat. You weren’t hungry, but you felt as though you could sleep through the end of the world. You didn’t catch what Wonwoo told you, but you could feel him patting your head.

*

When you woke up from your nap, the car smelled like food and the streets looked familiar, but you still shut your eyes just in case you were dreaming. You could feel the disappointment of going home bubbling deep inside you. You didn’t want the night to end; you didn’t want to say goodbye to Wonwoo yet. It felt like you didn’t spend enough time with him. Maybe you should’ve stopped at a restaurant or maybe you should’ve stayed up with him. Was it too late to call one of the boys and say you got a flat tire on the way back? Maybe you could tell Wonwoo that you forgot your phone...and the one resting on the cupholder was his mom’s.

“Come on, sleepy head. I know you’re up.”

“No, I’m still sleeping. You can’t make me get up if I’m not awake.” You opened one eye, peeking at your surroundings. Pretty soon, Wonwoo would turn right and then go down a few more streets and then once you passed his favorite grocery store, you’d be home. You didn’t want that.

“Come on. We have to get up for work tomorrow and you have a lot of other things to do.”

You shook your head. “No, not yet.”

“What if I promise to take you out on a date this weekend? Or we can stay at my place and bug everyone?”

“No.”

“What if I spend the night after everything’s done? I know I promised Chan I’d do something with him, but-”

“No.” you felt childish but you couldn’t help it. “I’m still asleep.” 

“Please Y/N?”

Slowly you opened your eyes, sighing in defeat. You had a good weekend at least, but now you had to face the reality of tomorrow as soon as you got home. You saw the McDonald’s sign, getting ready to hear the blinker to signal his turn, but instead of turning like you expected, Wonwoo drove straight ahead. “Uh, Wonwoo? I think you missed the turn.”

He shook his head, keeping his eyes on the road. “Do you feel like taking the long way home tonight?”

At this, you nodded. You liked when Wonwoo could read your mind and it comforted you to know that he felt the same way, even if he wasn’t as vocal about it. He let his phone choose the songs as he drove on, making random turns and not caring about where he was taking you. He just wanted to be with you until the last possible second. 

“I didn’t know you liked Green Day,” you commented when he stopped at a red light.

“I don’t think I’ve heard enough of their songs to know if I like them, but Vernon probably got into my phone. I can’t understand a lot of what they say anyway.” He shook his head. “All I know is that I question the whole anarchy thing.”

“I mean we jam out from time to time so it can’t be all that bad. The light’s green now.”

“Always in a rush to leave, aren’t we?” He waited a couple more second before driving down a few more streetlights (all of them turning red when he’d pull up) before making another turn that led you to a rural part of Seoul...and the outskirts from the looks of it. You came across a few neighborhoods, Wonwoo explaining how he’d like to live in something like this one day after the whole idol life/military discharge was over. He picked up the habit of kissing you whenever you stopped at the stop signs, liking the fact that it seemed like you were the only two people awake at that hour. 

Eventually he had to take you home, but he took every detour he could find, taking advantage of all the streets that he could find stop signs and red lights, so he could kiss you a little more and have those milliseconds add up. He finally stopped at your apartment building, turning off the music and looking up at you. “We’re here.”

“Thank you for this weekend, Wonwoo. Can we do it again?”

He nodded. “I’d like that a lot.” He deliberated a moment before turning off the ignition and all the lights dimming around you before turning off completely. 

You sighed quietly, feeling sadder than you should’ve but you unbuckled your seatbelt and opened your door. “Good night.”

He caught your arm before you could leave. “Jagi?”

“Yeah?”

He leaned closer to you until he could kiss you one more time. “Good night.”

Maybe you weren’t falling in love with Wonwoo yet, but you were more than okay with taking it slow. 

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he whispered.

It was your turn to lean in quickly and kiss him good night. “Thank you for taking the long way home.”

[sanshineaus]

your home

JUNG YOONOH / JAEHYUN X READER

warnings: there’s a verbal fight (kind of?) and an unclear mending of a relationship

type: drabble!

word count: 2996

a/n: thank you for your compliments love ):<3 but also sorry for this being so late, i’ve had a spell of watching the untamed/cql and i completely forgot to finish this

music recommendation: can you see my heart and wu ji even though neither fit lyrically, the melodies influenced me a lot

The light of your porch poorly illuminated the piece of paper in your hand, and you shivered despite the warmth of the evening.

It seems so trivial— a simple piece of paper. Simple, so simple that the black and white muddle together as you feel yourself tearing up. You still hold it far away from you, and your tears fall into your lap instead, but the blue lines of your signature at the bottom similarly blur in front of you until you can’t recognize that this is your handwriting.

Your company was incredibly generous after only five years of you working there. You did your best, of course, but you didn’t expect it to be paid back in the manner that it was; a raise that was the subsequence of a promotion. You were so excited to sign the contract and to finally get the coveted position, except you overlooked the fact that they now had the full right to change your station of work.

And that was exactly what they did.

Taking into account that you were young and skilled, and good at the language, your company offered a plane ticket and an address— as well as the option to pack within a week. ‘It’s a short time to bid farewell,’ they said, ‘but we expect it not to be too much of a problem.’

Business and family were not very good friends, you decided in that moment.

The drive back  to your home could very well be described as dangerous. You were a cautious driver, of course, though you struggled to focus your thoughts on anything but how you’ll tell your family that you were moving abroad at such short term notice. How to tell your friends that you would have to cancel your night out next week, too. But most of all, how to tell him.

Yoonoh and you have been dating for as long as you care to remember freshman year of college. He was in so many of your classes that it was simply impossible not to notice the dimple clad boy. He had more of a baby face back then, eighteen and eager to be part of the frathouse with a terrible composition of greek letters. It was easy to get lost in his flirting and niceties, and yet Yoonoh wasn’t like the other frat members.

His ways were more pure, and you’re pretty sure he kept track of when the two of you met up and for what. He enjoyed your company, and you enjoyed his, and eventually this enjoyment grew into a relationship by the end of second semester. You could distinctly remember that he brought you yogurt cups during finals to make sure you are something, and you similarly tried to get him granola bars whenever you were free.

Upon finishing college, you moved in together. Yoonoh struggled to get a job for a while, though you were both ecstatic when he got into his desired field and got the opportunity to do exactly what he loved. He grew pride for you as you did for him, and each day was better than the last. You simply understood each other through everything that happened to you.

And now you’d have to break to him that in a week, you’d be moving away from everyone, from him, and from your quaint little house.

You shivered again, and you realized that it was because of how truly distressed this made you. You didn’t want to leave Yoonoh, but you also didn’t want to leave your career. You argued many times with yourself that you’d love to move one day, but you didn’t expect it to be so soon, or without him for that matter.

You knew you could carry yourself well without him— you were your own person, after all— but the thought of him being so far away from you made bile rise in your throat. Maybe he’d move with you? Despite your company offering a one person apartment, you’d be more than willing to live with him in any small space, and search for other places. You needed to talk to him though, something which required a lot of mental fortitude.

You knew Yoonoh was inside and cooking you dinner. Your shift was a twelve hour one, and he’s been home for more than four hours now. You also knew he most likely heard you in the driveway, and you knew that he was waiting. He’d know you were upset, because it wasn’t like you do not go inside immediately unless you had a bad day or were energetic enough to tend to your garden. He could probably deduce it was the former since your shifts weren’t usually half a day long, though, and you’d be knackered by hour nine.

When you stood up, a light breeze lulled your dizzy headed self to the wooden pillar by you first. You neatly returned the paper you held into a folder you carried with you (with stickers he bought for you, something that usually made you happy but now seemed to serve the purpose of reminding you you’ll have to leave him).

Closing your eyes, you didn’t let your mind run through possible scenarios of how you’d tell him, instead clouding over with the image of Yoonoh’s hurt face, pursed lips, and offended eyes. Malaise settled in the depth of your stomach, and you used your sleeve to tap away your tears. It didn’t matter, though; your eyes were already red, and filling up again.

You moved towards the door so slowly you thought of yourself as more fitting of a zombie than a person. Turning the doorknob suddenly felt as if you were touching the surface of the sun, and a similarly unpleasant warmth spread all throughout your body. You felt feverish with anticipation, and once you finally were inside you busied yourself with taking off your shoes slowly, glancing up towards the kitchen every once in a while.

As expected, he was there, removing the pan you two used for everything from the stove and dividing it evenly into two plates. Your chest was hollow, suddenly, all words lost as you stared at him from the doorway, carefully tending to garnishing your dish even though you’ve told him so many times he doesn’t have to. Yoonoh looked perfect simply standing there, focused, and you contemplated if you really should go through with your promotion after all— or should you even tell him? You could keep it from him and quit, but then you’d hurt him even more by lying and losing your income.

You sighed before you walked in, the way his face lit up upon seeing you effectively stabbing you right in the heart. He wiped his hand on his apron, adorned with silly ducks and a house warming gift from one of your friends, before he approached you. You didn’t let him hug you, however, placing your hand on his chest while your other gripped onto the cursed folder within which were the documents that bound you to the company.

He seemed shocked before he seemed hurt.

You worldlessly handed him the folder, moving past him to sit down on the chairs by the isle, leaning onto the counter with a finger to your temple, rubbing down in an attempt to soothe yourself. When you looked back at him at last, he was already turned towards you. Even though you weren’t next to him, you could tell that he was shaking, his eyes filling with tears as he held onto the paper you did the same to.

“When?”

His voice betrayed him, shaking. He sounded unstable and upset, and you didn’t blame him in the slightest. You took a deep breath, “The promotion? Today. The move… on Wednesday, next week.” You wavered slightly, voice quieting down. He nodded, a pained smile spreading onto his lips, the tears finally slipping down his cheeks. You stood up, nearing him again, but when you reached up to try and cup his cheek he simply moved away.

“You should pack,” he said it in such a tone that you can feel the ice of his words freeze over the blood in your veins, “you should really pack.”

You grabbed his wrist instead, just as he’s about to lift his hand to close the folder. Yoonoh’s never been a violent guy— he’s never done anything rash or moved in a harsh way— but he tore his hand from your grasp, moving further away from you. He didn’t waver again, extending the folder to you.

“Go.”

You took the folder, gripping it to your chest and getting closer once more, “Yoonoh-“ “No.” he sounded mad, cold and he begun driving a rift between you. You opened your mouth again, but he simply turned away from you and began walking towards the living room opposite the dining area. You followed closely behind, calling his name once more, and although you didn’t expect him to react and were about to plead for him to listen, he turned back sharply with narrowed eyes.

“I don’t want to hear it, actually. You know it’s not easy for me to go with you, and it’s not easy for me to see you go either,” he sounded venomous, hurt. Your resolve cracks at its edges and the folder is discarded on top of your shoe stand.

“I don’t want to quit, Yoonoh-“ but he interrupted you again, “I know, (Y/N). I’m painfully aware you’re not going to quit, and I know I won’t let you do it anyway. But I’m not going to watch you leave me just like this, and I know you’ll try to convince me to come with you. You know I can’t.”

“And why not?” you hissed, eyes welling up yet again, “You know you could! You’d just have to-“

“Quit, leave all our friends and our family, settle with you and try to look for another job.” He harshly whispered before laughing humorlessly, “You know I won’t do that. I love my job, and I love you but I also love being here, and I don’t want to leave.”

You crossed your arms, the sense of pressure rushing all the way from your toes to the very top of your head, and the ache spreading through your body hurts in a much different way, “So you’re scared of change?”

This seemed to tip him over, and the tears on his cheeks raced down faster, a shuddering breath reaching your ears, “I think it’s best you leave. I really do.”

He turned away from you, closing the door to the living room and accompanying it with the click of the key inside the lock. It all suddenly rushed forward, and you felt yourself collapse emotionally, your sleeve failing to catch the stray tears as you rushed up the stairs.

You packed it all; your clothes, your special products, your pictures, devices and everything you had. It was a sad sight to see that two suitcases were all of your belongings for the past couple years, but you nonetheless rush them down while dialing the only person you know would be willing to help; Doyoung.

You opted not to drive in your confusion, rage and sadness, instead calling him to come pick you up. Your friend was sensible enough, obviously, though the concerned expression he donned and the same he pointed towards your front door told you that he was going to ask questions, and invest himself in this. Yoonoh and him were better friends, you knew this, though Doyoung was very much the type of person to judge someone based on information rather than relation, for which you were very grateful.

The ride to his place was mostly quiet, save for him insisting you can stay the whole week at his place and you claiming that a hotel would be fine. He didn’t let you go through with it, though, and even brought your luggage up to his guest room. His mother looked at you with so much sympathy— Miss Kim even hugged you tightly, enough to make you burst out into more tears— and Doyoung’s father chimed in with his own support, letting you know you’re always welcome.

The week was spent saying goodbye to your family members first, then the friends who you also had to apologize to, save for Doyoung. He made sure to help you with shopping for the trip itself as well, and even looked up the address your company gave and did the necessary research on the building while you worked and prepared.

Doyoung’s mum was even polite enough to go get your car from your (or Yoonoh’s, you weren’t sure quite yet) house, and his dad helped set up ads for the car to be sold. He also cheekily mentioned he would buy it off of you had he known how to drive your car specifically, to which you seriously offered to teach him how to use an automatic.

You were reading up on a tourist guide the night before your flight, when the door to Doyoung’s room opened slowly. Miss Kim carried a tray of fruit, and an expression of pure concern donned onto her aging face. You sat up properly in the computer chair, and she set the plates on the desk before taking a deep breath.

“Someone’s here to see you.”

Even though she didn’t explicitly state who, you knew. You knew Yoonoh was there, and it was excitement which bled into you first, closely followed by embarrassment. This was your friend’s house, where his parents lived no less, and yet your boyfriend (or was it now ex? You hoped not) showed up to see you, most likely talk to you as well. You had to compose yourself first before you nodded, following Miss Kim downstairs.

And really, there he was, again, though he seemed somehow paler. You had to gulp down your nervousness as you descended, whispering to him in passing that you want to take this outside. The Kims’ property was very large, intricately fenced, and you had no fear of the neighbours being snoopy here. Yoonoh, on the other hand, made you incredibly fearful, for whatever his words would be.

He avoided your gaze at first, though you uttered a ‘well?’ to get his attention, which made him regard you with shock, as if you broke him out of a reverie.

“I, uh…” he struggled, wringing his hands within one another before cracking his knuckles. You knew that he was nervous now, certainly.

“I’m sorry,” Yoonoh began with caution, “I shouldn’t have kicked you out. I shouldn’t even have acted like that. I-I… I wanted to wish you a safe trip,” his gaze fell onto the soft grass of the front yard of the Kims’ house, but you knew that if he were to look at you he’d want to say something else. You just had no idea what.

You reached up to cup his cheek, to which he responded by leaning his head into your palm, making you chuckle. “What do you want to tell me, sweet boy?” you tilted your own head, your eyes betraying that you were both upset and still very much in love with the man in front of you.

He snapped up as if he got bitten all of a sudden, settling on watching you. It took Yoonoh time, you knew this, and so you stayed calm, thumb slowly massaging the skin of his face. The silence was heavy, and yet somehow more comforting, warm. You posed that it could be because of how long it seemed since you last saw him, the trick of time making it feel as if it’s been more than just six days.

Yoonoh chuckled suddenly, bringing you back to the real life as he gripped your hand with his, indicating that he was ready; “I won’t move with you. I’m staying here. But I want this to work— I can’t without us. Even if it’s distance.”

You blinked once, twice, before you felt tears sting at your eyes and leave just as soon as they came. It felt as if he was confessing once again, like you were freshmen and he was just your friend who you liked a lot, and who you knew you’d end up loving. The warmth of the evening was equally reminiscent to the warmth of that evening, sitting together at a pathetic excuse of a beach bonfire party, and far away from the world. He was the only person you could see right now, and you wanted it to stay this way, maybe even forever.

Your breath hitched, and you nodded, before he took the initiative to hug you tightly. Whispered ‘I missed you’s and proclamations of love were exchanged, and yet again you felt yourself shedding way too many tears, staining your cheeks.

You stand at the airport, very familiar luggage in hand. None of your family was available today, which Mr. Kim found outrageous enough to make an entourage of his own, inviting your friends and of course himself and his wife, as well as Doyoung. You hug each and every one of the people in the party (though it takes a bit to separate from a sniffling Donghyuck who promises to sneak onto the flight in case you’re lonely). Until you reach Yoonoh.

You smile at him, which he reciprocates with a bit of an unsure but delightfully dimpled one of his own. He takes your hand first, and whispers in your ear while everyone else observes, and then he moulds his lips against your forehead, wishing you a safe flight.

You depart with joy on your face, but sorrow in your stomach. You wave, and wave, until you have to board and leave.

And when you’re on the plane, finally taking off, Yoonoh’s words ring in your mind once again.

‘I’ll see you next month, my darling.’

[therealsaintscully]

My list of X-Files inspired BBC Sherlock fic prompts

 I recently finished reading @88thparallel​‘s fabulous “Written in Ashes”, a BBC Sherlock fic inspired by the X-Files episode Demons. I’m a huge X-Files fan myself, and the idea of adapting an XF story into a Sherlock one sent me down a rabbit hole. I decided to compose a list of ideas, all up for grabs, for X-Files plots that can be adapted in interesting ways to a BBC Sherlock casefics.

Below you’ll find a list of X-Files episode with their original description, and some suggestions based on my knowledge of the two shows of what makes the plot an interesting one to write. As I mentioned, these ideas are PROMPTS, suggestions - feel free to write them. In fact it’ll be my honor! Let me know if and when you do (I might even create a collection for them in AO3).

Ice (1x07) - Mulder and Scully  investigate the death of an Alaskan research team. Isolated and alone, the agents and their accompanying team discover the existence of extraterrestrial parasitic organisms that drive their hosts into impulsive fits of rage.  Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: extreme nature adventures (mountains, snow, remote research facilities); isolated together with strangers in a distant location (Ice was supposed to be a bottle episode); a lot of suspense as Mulder and Scully’s trust in each other is put to the test (a handgun showdown), physical inspections rife with sexual tension, ooo! 

Darkness Falls (1x19) - Mulder and Scully are called in to investigate when a team of loggers disappear without a trace. Initially suspecting eco-terrorism, the agents find themselves trapped by a seemingly ancient menace lurking in the woods. According to Wikipedia, “Chris Carter was inspired to write this episode based on an interest in dendrochronology (sic? that’s how it’s spelled in wikipedia), a subject that involves analyzing annual growth rings found in non-tropical tree species.”  An interesting topic to develop!  Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: Just like in Ice, opportunity to write magnificent nature descriptions; also like in Ice, Mulder and Scully have to fend to themselves against the ‘others’; wonderful quotes such as “Rugged manly-men. In the full bloom of their manhood.” and “Come on, Scully. It'll be a nice trip to the forest." A Three Garridebs moment could work here!

Pusher (3x17) - Ah, Pusher. An early Vince Gilligan classic! Mulder and Scully’s assistance is requested for a case involving a man, who goes by the pseudonym "Pusher", seemingly capable of bending people to his will. The suspect uses his mysterious abilities to manipulate Mulder into a dangerous end game.  Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: Many parallels can be found between Modell and Eurus and or Moriarty; the game of cat and mouse in hopes of luring Mulder as the end game is quite similar to the TFP/TGG; the final game of Russian roulette with Mulder at the end is a classic MSR scene which could be lovely to write for John and Sherlock (Gillian is amazing with that One Tear™  while she threatens Modell); an opportunity to instill a fear of a very specific shade of blue in your readers; a chance of a sequel, since Modell returns with a vengeance in Kitsunegari.

Jose Chung's From Outer Space (3X20) - Mulder and Scully hear, and promptly investigate, a story about an alien abduction of two teenagers. Each witness provides a different version of the same facts. Within the episode, a thriller novelist, Jose Chung, writes a book about the incident.  Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: Humor! Lots and lots self-aware, meta-type inner-jokes humor as an observant book writer describes Mulder/Sherlock’s many weird traits.

Avatar (3x21) - Assistant Director Walter Skinner  is accused of murdering a prostitute, Mulder and Scully investigate to determine the truth behind what happened. Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: A fine chance to turn Skinner into Sholto or one of John’s other army friends (Skinner discusses trauma from his days in Vietnam in this episode, which could be adapted to Afghanistan). John Asks for Sherlock’s help on behalf of Sholto/said friend and there’s a thrilling prospect of some good old jealousy :) *After writing this I kinda fell in love with this idea and I might attempt writing this, but I’m absolutely not claiming this exclusively! If you like the idea go ahead!

Paper Hearts (4X08) - Another Vince Gilligan episode, my go-to one these days for when I miss the show and need a good dose of Mulder and Scully. I can go on and on about why I love this episode but I’ll spare you from that right now ;) Mulder and Scully find that a child killer who Mulder had helped to apprehend several years earlier had claimed more victims than he had confessed to; and in the resulting investigation, learn that the killer is now claiming to have killed Mulder's sister Samantha. Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: The Alice in Wonderland theme in the episode is somewhat reminiscent of the Hansel and Gretel theme from TRF so Moriarty could be one way to go; another way to go is have Eurus as a villain in a TFP plot fix-it (if you find the Sherrinford plot exaggerated), with Sherlock’s hope of finding Victor’s body by the end of the game.

Zero Sum (4x21) - In the episode, a case Mulder is asked to investigate is covertly covered up by the agents' boss Walter Skinner, who has made a sinister bargain with The Smoking Man. Scully is missing in this episode (Mulder cites her cancer treatments; Gillian Anderson was filming something else at the time). Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: A wonderful opportunity for a Lestrade-as-Skinner story!  (and you’re given a fine chance to write a Lestade naked with nothing but pants situation); Mulder is a bit lost without Scully in this episode so that’s added background Johnlock angst; the story can happen when John is away, either during his honeymoon or after Mary dies.

The Pine Bluff Variant (5x18) - This is an underrated episode which I quite like, personally. Scully grows suspicious of Mulder when she thinks he may be helping a terrorist organization. Scully begins to wonder if he is now a traitor to the FBI. It is eventually revealed that Mulder is working as a mole in the group, and he is trying to stop them before they are able to use a biological weapon—that may have been created by members of the U.S. government—which causes rapid degeneration of human flesh. Cool plot points you might enjoy: alternating POVs between Sherlock and John; a lot of tension between John and Sherlock while John is suspicious; Mycroft recruiting Sherlock to appear as a traitor.

Triangle (6x03) - What can I possibly say about Triangle that hadn’t been said before? Cool plot points you might enjoy: An AU-within-AU opportunity - a chance for John and Sherlock to meet in a WW2 era, saved by rebel-Nazi Lestrade, Sherlock’s irregulars are The Lone Gunmen, a kiss, a punch, “You’re my one in five billion” (remember when there 5 billion people on this planet?) :) If you do write this, please make sure present John and past John pass each other by and get a strange, tingling sensation as a result! It’s one of my favorite scenes in the entire show.

Dreamland I & II (6x04 and 6x05) - Mulder and Scully visit Area 51. But when the agents witness the flight of a mysterious craft, Mulder and a member of the Men in Black switch bodies, unbeknownst to the others. In part two, Scully begins to suspect that her partner's strange behavior is more than it appears to be, while Mulder fights to return his life to normal before it is too late. Cool plot points you might enjoy: Humor, humor and more humor. Mostly Morris Fletcher trying to bed John (=Scully) who promptly pulls a gun on him. That should be an awesome scene to write in and of itself. And let’s not forget “Lately, for lunch, you've been having this six-ounce cup of yogurt, plain yogurt, into which you stir bee pollen because you're on a bee pollen kick even though I tell you you're a doctor and you should know better.“ as well as “I’d kiss you if you weren’t so damn ugly.”

Tithonus (6x09) - Another underrated episode. I think it deals with the theme of death’s inevitability rather beautifully. Scully learns that she, but not Mulder, is being given a chance to prove her worth at the FBI, and—paired with a new partner—she investigates a crime scene photographer with an uncanny knack for arriving just in time to see his victims' final moments. What she does not expect, however, is for Death to play a role himself. Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: John exploring on his own, for one reason or another, attached to another investigator (things happen!); this episode further explores a theory referred throughout the show since Clyde Bruckman’s Final Repose, that Dana Scully is immortal (she seems to avoid death in this episode as well). It’s an Appointment in Samarra sort of story.

Monday (6x15) - Mulder and Scully are stuck in a deadly time loop. It’s a story that writes itself! Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: Sherlock or John having a really bad morning, over and over again.

Alpha (6x16) - Mulder and Scully investigate several killings blamed on an Asian dog called the Wanshang Dhole, thought to be extinct. Mulder and Scully join an obstinate Sheriff, a seemingly eccentric hunter, and a reclusive canine expert to find it. However, there is more mystery to the expert than meets the eye. Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: I enjoy this episode because it has some gentle but obvious MSR moments. Scully is suspicious (and low-key jealous) of Karin Berquist’s involvement in the case and it colors her opinion of the investigation. A key quote in this episode, preformed softly and beautifully by Gillian, is: “She's enamored of you Mulder. Don't underestimate a woman. They can be tricksters, too.”

The Unnatural (6x17) - This is a weird ass episode, let’s admit it. This is DD’s love story to baseball and it’s silly and sometimes boring/slow. BUT, it has lovely MRS moments.  Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: The structure of story within a story (Mulder retells his time spent with Arthur Dales who tells him the story of Josh Exley) is interesting enough. The opening and closing scenes are lovely as well of course!

X-Cops (7x12) - Mulder and Scully are interviewed for the Fox reality television program Cops during an X-Files investigation. Mulder, hunting what he believes to be a werewolf, discovers that the monster terrorizing people instead feeds on fear. While Mulder embraces the publicity of Cops, Scully is more uncomfortable about appearing on national television. Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: It’s your chance to write a Sherlock crossver fic about an X-Files crossover episode. If that’s not cool, I don’t no what is.

Hollywood A.D. (7x18) - Let’s admit it, Hollywood A.D is not a good episode, as funny as it is. This episode was one of the first signs the show had lost its edge, possibly because they thought this would be their truly-this-time last season. However, it IS funny and gave rise to fans claims that by this point, Mulder and Scully were Definitely Sleeping Together. Wayne Federman, an entrepreneurial Hollywood producer and college friend of Walter Skinner picks up the idea for a film based on the X-Files, however Mulder and Scully find that the level of realism in their fictional portrayal is somewhat questionable. Meanwhile, during the filming of the movie, Mulder and Scully research the mysterious "Lazarus Bowl", an artifact that supposedly has the exact words that Jesus Christ spoke to raise Lazarus from the dead recorded on its surface. Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: Lots of inner-jokes and crack humor, many fluffy moments, the chance to imagine who’ll play Lestrade, Sherlock and John in a BBC Film, Lazarus could refer to The Fall(!), which could be the plot to said film.

The X-Files: I Want to Believe - Mulder and Scully have both left the FBI, but when an FBI agent is mysteriously kidnapped, and a former priest who has been convicted of being a child molester claims to be experiencing psychic visions of the endangered agent, they reluctantly accept the FBI's request for their paranormal expertise. I know, I know. Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t like it either at first, but a) compared to the revival seasons, it’s not that bad and b) in terms of established relationship angst, it’s a fucking goldmine. Cool plot points you might enjoy writing: A chance to write a post-recent-retirement fic for Sherlock and John, with a lot of tension in their established relationship based around John’s reluctance to return to their lives as investigators. IWTB has quotes like “This isn't my life anymore, Mulder. I'm done chasing monsters in the dark.” and “This stubbornness of yours, it's why I fell in love with you.”  So there! Don’t dismiss the idea so quickly!

Wow, this turned out longer than I expected! I hope you liked them, and even if you don’t write anything - I definitely enjoyed this exercise.

My finished fics are ready to be read on AO3 :)

[lombredanslaeu]

pure devotion / part two

▸ werewolf! johnny x human reader

▸ read chapter one here

▸ hey! its finally here. it wasnt my plan to do a part two but y’all wanted to see what happens next so here you go. thank you so much for reading the first chapter! enjoy

recap: werewolves are assigned with a soulmate and once they reach the age of 23, they would find who their soulmate is. you have always been in denial about being in love with your best friend, johnny. as the clock struck 10:34 pm - the exact time johnny was born - that’s when you felt the universe unfold within your veins. you are johnny’s soulmate. it would have been a successful fairy tale but johnny loves you too much to let it happen.

It has been almost a week since you and Johnny last talked. You thanked the universe for not letting you cross paths with Johnny in school. It would be dishonest to say that your heart isn’t breaking each second you’re away from him. You miss him, so much. It’s only been 5 days since his birthday but you just want to run to his house and see him again. Your friends grew suspicious about what happened between you two. It’s always been Y/N and Johnny every hour of every week. Now, it’s just you.

“Okay, Y/N, cut the bullshit,” Your friend, Nayeon, along with Yeri and Jungwoo, sat in front of you, demanding for answers. “What’s going on between you and Johnny?”

You rolled your eyes. You appreciate their concern so much but you knew they were gonna demand every details about your misunderstanding. Nayeon, Yeri, and Jungwoo are vampires. Vampires aren’t assigned a soulmate. They are free to choose who they’ll spend the rest of their lives with. Although they are also close friends with Johnny and your other friends who are werewolves, you are skeptical if they would understand or not.

“We just had an argument during his birthday. No big deal.” You replied.

“Uh? Of course, it’s a big deal.” Yeri started. “First, you and Johnny? Not talking for almost a week? Second, you two arguing during his birthday?”

“It’s hard to explain, guys.” You sighed.

“We have all day, Y/N. You know you can always talk to us.” Jungwoo said. “Besides, I’ve never seen Johnny this down before.”

You decided to share what happened that night. You knew in yourself that this will spread like wildfire to your circle of friends, or even worse, throughout the whole school. It has always been a big deal whenever a werewolf is soulmates with a human. They will be nosy and concerned. You don’t mind attention but you certainly don’t want to be pitied at. Your heart also ached at the mention of Johnny being sad. All your life, you felt like it was your duty to make sure Johnny is happy and healthy. Now, you sure will beat yourself later at the thought of you not being brave enough to confront him.

---

It was only 2:00 pm but you felt so tired. You felt like Atlas took a break from carrying the world and used you as a substitute. Jungwoo suggested to talk to Johnny as soon as possible. You understand that. You know that the only solution to whatever it is that you’re feeling right now is to talk to him. See what both of you can compromise. But, your mind is still a haze. It was your future you’re talking about. Whether you make this decision or that, it will affect the rest of your life. You wished things didn’t have to be this way. For the first time in your life, you wished Johnny didn’t exist.

You went home immediately after your last class. Your mother was shocked to see you come home early. You always went places with Johnny and your friends. Yeri invited you to go vinyl shopping with her and Jaehyun but you just weren’t in the mood to be fake happy.

“You look so down, sweetheart.” Your mother said as she sat across you on the kitchen island.

“Mom, I have to tell you something.” You sighed. You hated making your mother worried. But you knew that sharing this with her will help you somehow, hopefully.

Your mother stared intently at you, waiting for you to say whatever you had to say.

“I’m soulmates with Johnny.” You started. She leaned back on her seat, taken aback from your confession. “Remember last Saturday? During his birthday? We just found out that night.”

“Then, why are you so down?” She asked. “He’s your best friend since forever. I trust him and you trust him.”

“I don’t know, mom,” You felt tears form. “It’s just that - I’m scared. You know how risky it is for humans to be mates with werewolves. Remember Mingyu’s mother? She survived the transformation but she died after giving birth. I want to see the whole world when I’m 80, mom. I don’t want to die so young.”

Your mother hugged you. You knew she didn’t have an answer. She was fortunate enough to not be soulmates with a werewolf.

“You know, sweetheart, I had to give up a lot of things when I decided to marry your dad. I had to give up my wild nights with friends, my freedom of being single, the apartment that I loved so much. I loved these things so much because they made me who I am.” She said. “But you know what? I never missed them. I would trade so many of my yesterdays to have a tomorrow with your father. It was scary at first, I almost ran away during our wedding. But every night he would come up to me and make me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, I immediately thanked God I never ran away.”

“That’s sweet and all, mom, but you’re not gonna die if you and dad mate.” You said bitterly through tears.

“I know, sweetheart. I know it’s unfair to you. But, I don’t want you to die without the love of your life on your side. Johnny is a good man. He would fight all of the odds for you and you, out of all the people in this world, should know that.” She said. “Our lives are full of risks. This wont be the only risk that you’ll take during your life.”

Later that night, you stared at the polaroid pictures that are glued on your wall. These were pictures of you, Johnny, and your friends. Your eyes landed on a picture of Johnny with a tub of ice cream. He knew you love ice cream so whenever you feel down, rest assured that he will be on your side with a tub of ice cream. He just knew what to do. It was like he was made to be your perfect fit. Almost immediately, you came into the conclusion that you were willing to risk it for Johnny. You were tired of feeling worried over things that haven’t happened yet.

---

You woke up with a livelier spirit than yesterday. You were still worried of what will Johnny say but the only thing you can do for now is not worry about things that haven’t happened. You decided to give him his favorite yogurt and flower as a peace offering. Today, you are willing to sort things out with him. You couldn’t bear another day with things not okay between you two. Before you left your house, you asked the sky above to give you a sign. You were willing to take whatever sign it gives you.

You entered the lecture hall and noticed that everyone’s mood was gloomy. Your professor, Mrs. Bae, was already in front with a sad frown on her face. Did someone die today? She waited for two more people to arrive before speaking. You were worried that it might be someone from your circle or worse, Johnny.

“We received the news early this morning that one of your classmate, Kim Soohyun, passed away last night.” She spoke. “Let’s give a moment of silence for her, her family, her friends, and her significant other, Choi Hansol.”

Your breath hitched when Mrs. Bae mentioned Hansol as her significant other. Hansol belonged to Johnny’s pack, meaning he is a werewolf. And Soohyun was human. As if on cue, Nayeon whispered to you.

“I heard she died from transformation.” She looked at you with so much worry on her eyes.

Your heart was beating so much and you started to struggle catching up with it. Today was supposed to be the day you agree on being Johnny’s mate. You shouldn’t have asked for a sign. Earlier, you were so sure of your decisions. Now, you weren’t sure if you wanna see Johnny today. Looks like the universe really fucking hates your guts. You were supposed to have your peace of mind. You looked down at the yogurt and flower that you were supposed to give Johnny. You refused to believe that Soohyun’s death was a sign for you to rethink your decision but sooner or later, you found yourself throwing the flower to the nearest garbage bin and eating Johnny’s yogurt.

---

Day by day, you feel your friendship with Johnny deteriorating slowly. Soohyun’s death shouldn’t have affected you so much but for some strange reason, it did.

“You’re really not gonna fix anything by avoiding your problems.” Your friend, Jaehyun spoke beside you. You really shouldn’t be talking to him because you knew as one of Johnny’s closest friend, he would never stop convincing you to talking with Johnny. Jaehyun was also a member of Johnny’s pack. Jaehyun’s father is Johnny’s father’s right hand, meaning he is the beta of the pack. Jaehyun and Johnny are so close to each other, probably much closer than you and Johnny. You knew he would always have Johnny’s back just like you do. So, it doesn’t surprise you if he wanted to fix the problem between you and Johnny.

“How is he?” You asked, genuinely concerned for Johnny.

“To be really honest, I don’t think he can graduate if this problem doesn’t get solved.” He replied. “You probably think that I’m exaggerating this for you to talk to him immediately. Our graduation is just around the corner. If you don’t want to put your future at risk, at least don’t try to put his on a tight rope as well.”

You hated the fact that he was right. You were starting to feel selfish, too cowardly. Johnny was always brave whenever you needed help. It was time you became brave for him.

---

The loud music blasted through the walls of Lucas’ house. Here is where all the college parties are held. Lucas is also one of your closest friends. He’s a human who is dating Wendy, a vampire. Tonight was the farewell party of the graduating class of this year. You weren’t in the mood to come but you knew Johnny was gonna be here since he one of the graduating students.

You decided to get at least a little bit tipsy before you confront Johnny. With the help of your ever-supportive friends, your mind was hazy immediately. It was not a hassle for you to find him in parties. He is either playing beer pong, in the kitchen mixing up drinks with Taeyong, or in the dance floor with the other friends you shared. You spotted him standing quietly near the snacks corner. You know the reason why he isn’t as upbeat as he usually is. You stood next to him and he immediately noticed you. You didn’t know what to do or what to say.

“Hi.” You squeaked out.

“Hey,” He replied, giving you a warm smile. The smile that you fell in love with. You haven’t seen that smile in a while.

“I would give anything to see that smile for the rest of your life” It took you a few seconds to realize that you said that out loud. Damn this cocktail.

“Yeah, nice to see you again too, Y/N,” You noticed how his mood seemed to lit up. He looked down on you. You both haven’t said so much but he knew that things are finally okay. He got the picture.

“So, is this your response about what he learned during my birthday?” He said, lifting his cup to drink whatever is left of the drink.

“Yeah, look. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I put you through hell because I was too much of a coward to talk to you. I’m sorry that I left you all confused and-” Your ranting got cut off when you felt his soft lips against yours. Each movement of his lips signifies his undying love for you. It signifies how he will always forgive you and accept your flaws that annoyed him to the core. It signifies that he wanted you to know that you were his and he was yours, forever. He lead you through the balcony of Lucas’ house, where no one was present.

“I love you,” You said after you pulled away. “I’m willing to risk everything for you. I would trade all my tomorrows for at least a minute with you.”

You didn’t realize that you were crying until he was wiping your cheeks with his thumb. His hands still cups your face as he stares down at you. You were expecting him to say the same but all you saw his head shaking from left to right.

“No,” he whispered. “I love you too, Y/N, so much. I’ve loved you for as long as I could remember. All the nights we spent tangled up in each other and telling one another how we’re just friends. All the make out session we had in the back of my car. The best of times, the worst of times. I’ve loved you through it all. But I can’t do this to you, Y/N. You deserve to live the best life you’ve set up for yourself until you grow old and wrinkly.”

You stared at him, tears flowing from your eyes. He hated seeing you cry. He could kill anyone or anything that made you cry. “You can do this with me, Johnny. If I die, at least I die by your side. I will die knowing that you made me yours. And to the die by your side is the perfect way I could die.”

He continued shaking his head, his own tears staining his flawless skin. “We don’t have to transform you.”

“But you need an heir. You need an offspring to be the next alpha after you.” You replied. “And I want to give that to you.”

“God knows how much I want to start a family with you too.” He said.

“Then, what’s stopping you, Johnny?” You asked him. You were so desperate to leave this party with you and Johnny being okay.

“I love you. That’s what’s stopping me.” He responded. The effects of the alcohol was slowly leaving your system. You were growing tired of this fight. You were never a patient woman but you pushed through just to make this right.

You remained in silence, looking up at the starry night. You asked the sky for one more sign. If only the answer to everything was written in the sky, you would have it all by now. But life doesn’t work that way. Sometimes, you have to ruin yourself to find the answer.

“I accepted a job offer in the city today. I leave in 2 days.” He said all of sudden. There. There was your sign. You sighed and look at him, with pride and sadness. You were so proud of him. You saw him struggle with college and now he immediately has a job in the city. But you were also sad. He accepted it without even talking to you - his best friend, and his soulmate. You couldn’t blame him. He probably wanted to get away from you after everything.

---

Johnny leaves for the city tomorrow morning. You have wallowed in self-pity the whole day. You looked at yourself in the mirror and saw how wrecked you looked. If only you fixed this as soon as possible, he probably wouldn’t leave. You scratched that thought out of your head. That was selfish. Johnny pushed aside his feeling for you so that you could have your dream. It’s time for you to stop being selfish and let him have his. You decided you wanted to see him before he left. This will probably the last time you will see each other so you were determined to fix the broken bond between you two.

You arrived at his house after a few minutes. His house wasn’t far from yours. The moment he opened his door, you attached your lips into his. You kissed him as if you’re begging for him to not leave you. He lead you both to his room and locked the door.

He kissed you first on the lips and soon, he traveled down your neck. The back of your needs hit the edge of his bed and he gently laid you down on it. It’s been a while since the last time you slept together. You weren’t planning on sleeping with him tonight but you wanted to make sure his last night with you was worth it.

It took an hour for the both of you to finish making love. Your head laid on his chest as your limbs tangled upon each other.

“You’re leaving tomorrow.” You announced.

“Yep,” He responded. His fingers drew relaxing figures on your bare back. “Okay.”

You looked up at him, confusion written on your face. What did he mean by “okay”?

Sensing your inquiring stare, he responded, “I can’t accept a life wherein I don’t get to hold you every night.”

He sat up on the edge of his bed, the moonlight that shone through his window lighted up his face. You followed, resting your chin on his shoulder as your arms wrapped around his body savoring the last moments before he leaves for the city.

“Find me immediately after you design a house, a building, something.” He said with conviction, staring deeply into your eyes as if wanting you to memorize what he is saying. “Find me immediately. I will wait for you. Even if it takes a couple more years.”

You felt tears streaming down your cheeks. You love him so much. You would take any compromise only if it means being with him in the end. You nodded, pressing a kiss on his shoulder.

“No other love, except me.” He stated.

“No other love, only you.” You said.

a/n: i hope you enjoyed this! as always, feedback and requests are always welcome.

[iggy-of-fans]

Of Being Ladybug 9

Previous          Master List

The cons of not believing

(- - )

Tim looked at his phone in surprise. He’d been in Paris for only a week to help train the Miracles, and already Bruce was calling him? Was hell freezing over? Did someone die?!

“B?” Tim whispers, not wanting to wake up Stephanie. There is silence on the other line. Tim frowns and moves to the other room so he can turn on the video.

“Bruce?” he asks again, now looking at the brooding older man. He looked like Joker just shat in his coffee.

“Tim… I… when you were younger… how… what could I have done to support you more?” Bruce finally bit out. His pauses long and his eyes drawn together. Bruce was looking to the side and was speaking quietly. Tim recognized the room as Steph’s before she moved into his room. A new sibling? AH! Bruce had been petitioning to have the previous Ladybug brought under his custody. He’d been blocked and turned away every time. It seemed Diana was extremely excited to be teaching a new Ladybug, had in fact claimed her as her sister. Bruce had been told that he had enough children and that he didn’t need to “corrupt” another one.

“Is the new sister having a hard time adjusting? Shouldn’t you be asking Dick?” Tim asked, relieved no one died…again.

“… Marinette is fourteen and about to graduate high school this Christmas. She was tossed to the side by her family for some unknown reason. She was torn from her friends and responsibilities. Since receiving the Miraculous at thirteen, she has hardly had a minute to breath, let alone figure herself out. And when, by all rights, she should have had the time, Diana takes her, shaves all her hair off and tells her “[W]ith every hair that falls, a part of Marinette must die. As your new hair grows, Maria will grow as well.” She wasn’t allowed to sew or draw or bake or cook. She wasn’t allowed to do anything that had any connection to her previous life,” Bruce’s hands and jaw were clenched.

Tim frowned again. What?!

“Marinette trained from dawn to dusk, but was never allowed out of the house, nor to shadow her on missions. She was to study, to train, and to sit quietly and behave herself.”

“You’re kidding?! No wonder her friends here are so worried! They’ve been trying to contact her!” Tim growled. He felt ready to go hunt an Amazonian.

“What would you suggest I do? She thinks further ahead than anyone I know, has strategies and back-up strategies and back-ups for the back-ups. She has social anxiety, with a history of being bullied. She skipped grades and then stopped for some reason. She had the same teacher for years, despite having been bullied by classmates. I just… I need to hear from someone who is closer to her age and had similar problems. What can I do?” Bruce wiped his hand down his face. He looked so tired.

Tim sighed and thought back to when he was fourteen. He’d been Robin for three years by then already. What could he have used? More time together? More friends? More sleep? Did any of this help his new sister?

Tim shook his head, “I don’t know, B. I was more interested in being Robin than being a teenager. Time with you was always good. Sibling time with as well. Maybe call Dick. He’s always been the best adjusted out of all of us.”

Bruce just nodded, gave his half smile and was about to sign off when a light went off over his head.

“Tim, one last thing. Please look into the school and classmates for me. Something tells me Marinette was being held back against her will.”

Tim frowned more. He nodded before signing off and sending a message to the Miracle Team that Marinette would be able to speak in the next week and would video chat with them soon. He was about to text Jason when Stephanie called for him. He put his phone down and walked back to bed.

( # , # )

Richard Grayson was used to getting calls at weird times. But two in the morning and from Bruce’s civilian phone? He sent a quick prayer up that no one died and answered.

“What’s up, B? Miss me already?” He asked cheerfully.

Bruce looked tiredly at the camera, “Dick. I need some advice to help your newest sister adjust.”

Dick’s eyes widened. Bruce finally got custody! That’s good. But he looked so exhausted. He wondered what happened.

“Adjust to what, specifically? The fighting? School? Is she moody? What’s going on?” Dick asked. When did he become the one to give PARENTING advice to his father?

As Bruce talked about what he’d learned from Marinette’s journal, Dick became more and more angry. He was a guy, but even her knew that you never cut a girl’s hair without permission!

“Sounds to me like she just needs to believe that this is real and permanent. Just be there when you can. Talk to her about decisions and let her work the way she is used to on missions. Thing’s will fall into place after that” Dick said pragmatically. There really wasn’t much to do but be there. He wished he could be there to help in person, but India had recently fallen prey to the mouse Miraculous. He and Starfire were there to capture the thief that was misusing the Miraculous.

Bruce sighed and nodded, before hanging up. Poor Bruce. Dick would do his best to get done here and head home. He was excited to meet his new sister! He sent a message to Jason and Tim, warning them of the new sister and to be nice if they caught her on the video chats.

< ( ^ ^ ) >

Bruce sighed, exhausted. He hadn’t meant to call the boys yet, but this was not something he wanted to go in blind to. Diana had made a lot of mistakes with Marinette, and she deserved better than that. Bruce had only glanced through the journal to get some insight, but it seemed Marinette suffered from Imposter Syndrome, social anxiety, abandonment issues… And Diana, who only exasperated the problems. Keeping her locked away, training her to exhaustion, taking her hobbies and passions, killing any and all aspects of her personality. Bruce had thought Marinette was just shy. This though. He frowned. Had he known about this he would have treated Marinette very differently. Maybe an hour of sleep would help him clear his head. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.

< ( >< ) >

Alfred stared blankly at the ceiling. Something wasn’t adding up. For all that her parents were busy people, they seemed to love their daughter a great deal. He couldn’t imagine they had just randomly abandoned her for being a hero. Not when they hosted Chat Noir for dinner one night. Not when they seemed so proud of their daughter with every award she received. Something was off. Alfred wasn’t a detective, but he would find out what had truly happened if it killed him.

{ J }

Jason stared at his phone, re-reading the message from Dick. A new sister, huh?

‘Che, poor kid. Dealing with B all on her own. I’ll have to make this quick,’ he thought as he lifted the binoculars.

He was currently in Germany, following a suspected Miraculous user. The information about the Horse Miraculous stated that they could open portals anywhere. And recently a string of missing women from Cologne was becoming very concerning. Especially when companions and eyewitnesses all claim the same thing: a glowing yellow circle opening in the air and the woman vanishing through it. Jason watched silently as Cass walked down the street below. The tracker and her own training would hopefully keep her alive long enough for Jason to find her and the rest of the women. Nothing below. Maybe check the other side? Just as he was getting up, he felt a fist to his head. And then black.

*!!*

Luka looked at his phone. Marinette was finally in contact again? The day Black Canary had landed, they had bothered her from dawn to dusk to talk to their old leader, but were stonewalled, as her new guardian didn’t think it was a good idea to be constantly reminded of her failure. The team had shouted that it wasn’t Marinette’s failure alone, but the whole teams. And more over, the League’s, as they never took their calls for help seriously. Canary was pretty quickly chased away by them, and another trainer was sent. Green Lantern 1 and 2 were a great help for Kaefer, but the rest of the team didn’t see any real benefit from them. And they didn’t care in the least about Marinette. They didn’t last very long either. It went on like this for a year. Trainers came and went, all of them parroting the same thing. Luka had a new reputation now, as the trainer wrecker, on the team. And as a civilian? He became completely cold and closed off. Only his teammates saw any warmth from him. But even Juleka was being steadily pushed to arms length. Paris did this to Marinette. And none of them, not her friends or her family, even cared.

<(**)>

When Marinette woke up the next morning, she knew immediately that she wasn’t alone. Looking out through blurry eyes, she saw the figure of a man standing by her window. He was turned away, looking outside with the sun streaming in. She tried to remember how she got to her room.

A knock at her door had her quickly closing her eyes and pretending to be asleep. Bruce went to the door.

“Master Bruce. I thought you and Miss Marinette might enjoy some breakfast.”

“Thank you, Alfred. Will you be joining us for breakfast?”

“I’m afraid I have an errand to run in town this morning. But I will be sure to return for lunch. Do try not to burn the kitchen down.”

“You can sit up now, Marinette. I heard the change in your breathing earlier.”

Marinette cracked an eye open. Why? She sat up on her bed and looked up at her current guardian.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” Bruce gestured at the end of the bed, carrying a large tray filled with waffles, fruits, yogurt and coffee. Marinette shook her head mutely.

After Bruce set the tray on the middle of the bed, he sat down and looked her in they eye.

“Marinette, what I said last night still stands. I want you to feel at home here. This isn’t temporary. Two of the oldest boys are already calling you their newest sister. Marinette, most of my children are adopted. In fact, only one of my kids is related to me by blood. I wanted to bring you here from the beginning, but lost the custody battle to… Anyways, you’re here now. I want you to feel at home and remember yourself. To have a safe place to just be.”

Marinette felt her eyes watering again. Was this… was this real? But her parents had promised to always be there too, hadn’t they? Marinette nodded. Eventually everything would come to an end. But for now, for just this moment, she would allow herself to be comfortable.

“Okay? Okay. So, I wanted to talk to you about school and extra curriculars. Your work schedule… “ Bruce pulled a notebook out of his breast pocket. Her eyes widened. He… He wanted HER opinion?

“No school” her voice was barely above a whisper, her hands clenched in the blankets and her head bowed. She missed his nod of understanding.

“No school. Just distance education with tests and exams taken in the principle’s office. But I am more interested in what you might be interested in taking in University. Are there any particular courses that interest you? Is there a career path you’d like to follow? We will have to start the applications right away if you want to get in for the Spring term.  And what about extra curriculars? Dance? Ice dancing? Gymnastics? Parkour? Sewing? Singing? Music? Most of the kids all learned piano from me at some point…” He was looking in his notebook and tapping his pen against his pants.

Wah…? Marinette felt her jaw drop.

“Am I overwhelming you? It’s okay to take a few days to think things over and let me know…” Bruce looked at her face, jaw slack and eyes wide. Marinette just nodded.

“Breakfast?”

 Tag List

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[avasharpe]

Spooky Scary Skeletons

Chapter: one/one

Summary: "What about a chick magnet and a chick?" Sara asked, pulling up the picture on her phone to show Ava.

"No," Ava said, scrunching up her nose in disgust.

The couple was lounging on the bed at Ava's house that night. With Sara laying on her stomach sideways across the bed and Ava leaning against the headboard with a glass of wine.

"Okay, what about a coffee barista and a frappuccino?" Sara asked.

Fandom: DC’s Legends of Tomorrow.

Relationship: Sara Lance/Ava Sharpe.

Characters: Sara Lance, Ava Sharpe, Charlie, Zari Tomaz, Mick Rory, Nora Darhk, and Ray Palmer.

Chapter Rating: General Audiences.

Additional Tags: Halloween, Costume Party, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Avalance Halloween fun! (This is an old one but It’s not posted here so!)

Read at AO3

Read at FFN

……………………………………………………………………

"Hey, Sara?" Zari asked, pulling her yogurt spoon from her lips. "Can I turn the bridge into a haunted maze for the party?"

"What party?" Sara asked, sitting her oatmeal breakfast down on the table next to Ava.

It was a fairly late morning and the crew was lazy in their efforts to get up and start the day. The majority of them were still in their pajamas as they got breakfast and were not too chatty as they ate. Apart from Zari, Ray, and Ava who were always the early birds of the team.

"The Halloween party? We are having a party, right!" Zari exclaimed.

"A party?" Nate said, popping up his head from where he had been staring into his coffee.

"A party?" Ray sang, as cheerful as ever that morning.

"Oh no," Ava said, knowing exactly where this was going.

"Can we have a party?" Mona sang, perking up.

"Can I get drunk?" Mick added, smiling despite the weary look he had a moment ago.

"Can I get laid?" Charlie sang as they all broke out in song for the last verse.

"Will there be a pretty girl for me to serenade?"

"Not you too," Ava said looking over as had Nora joined in. "It’s too early for this."

"A party, a party. Can we have a party?"

"Can I get drunk? Can I get laid?"

"Will, there be a pretty girl for me to serenade?"

Ava dropped her head into her folded arms as everyone else sang the rhyme again, but Sara wrapped her arm around Ava’s shoulder giving her a quick squeeze. "All right that's enough. We can have a party, but keep it to the bridge."

"Yes!" They all shouted.

Zari pulled out her tablet and pulled up the Pinterest board she had made with all her ideas. Her enthusiasm was contagious as they all talked over each other about the drinks and decorations they wanted. Ava gave Sara a weary look knowing how out of control these things could get, but Sara just smiled and leaned in. She kissed her lips and scooted her chair closer to her.

"Relax, it’ll be fun. I promise."

"I don’t know," Ava said, still not on board with the party. "I’ve never even been tricking or treating, much less an actual Halloween party."

"All the more reason for us to do this, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. We can dress up, have some fun food and drinks and if you’re lucky I’ll dance for you."

Ava blushed and hind her pink cheeks in Sara’s shoulder, kissing her bare skin. "Okay."

Sara leaned her head down onto Ava’s and they enjoyed the quiet moment together, despite the loud and busy conversation happening in front of them. That is, until Zari decided to try out the strobe lights and dubstep music. Causing Ava to jump and fall back in her chair.

"Zari!" Ava shouted as Sara helped her up. "A little bit of warning next time okay."

"Oops."

……………………………………………………………………

"What about a chick magnet and a chick?" Sara asked, pulling up the picture on her phone to show Ava.

"No, it just seems wrong," Ava said, scrunching up her nose in disgust.

The couple was lounging on the bed at Ava's house that night. With Sara laying on her stomach sideways across the bed and Ava leaning against the headboard with a glass of wine.

"Okay, what about a coffee barista and a frappuccino?" Sara asked.

"No, what about Marcie and Patty from Peanuts?" Ava asked showing Sara the photo she had found on her phone.

"No," Sara said, with a shake of her head. "We could do a cat lady and her cat."

"No, Mona said, she's doing that. Or something like that." Ava said, trying to think about what Mona was saying about her costume the other day.

"What about a skeleton and the grim reaper."

"No, but, what if we did Edgar Allan Poe and his raven?"

"No, what about a skeleton and a vampire!"

"No, if we're going to do a couples costume I want us to match more and why do I get the idea that all of your costumes are the sexy kind?" Ava asked looking down at Sara with her eyebrows raised.

Sara gave her a sultry smile and a wink. Ava just rolled her eyes and looked back down at her phone. It wasn't necessarily Ava’s first Halloween with Sara, but it was her first Halloween party. Last year they had just watched Halloween movies and handed out candy to trick-or-treaters and that was Ava's plan for this year as well, but Sara had never needed an excuse to dress up or to party.

"What about a pair of Beanie Babies?" Ava suggested.

"NO!" Sara yelled, rolling over onto her back and onto Ava's feet.

"Okay, Sara just admit it. You want to wear a skin tight costume, so I can try and find something we can agree on," Ava said, fed up with the current argument that was going nowhere.

"I just want to wear a sexy skin tight costume," Sara said, rolling over until she was resting in Ava's lap. "It's Halloween, I just want to have fun, get drunk, and wear a costume that has you staring at me all night."

"Okay fine," Ava said, letting her fingers run threw Sara's hair. "But I would rather wear something fun."

"Okay," Sara agreed.

They went over several options that they have been throwing at each other for the last hour. They had been having this fight all week as they tried to figure out something that they could do together. Now, they were down to the wire as it was October 30th.

"You really want to be a skeleton?" Ava asked.

"Yes," Sara said, smiling up at her.

"Okay, well I guess I could be a ghost, but like one with a white suit and hair."

Sara smiled imagining Ava in a suit with blood. She watched has Sara wiggled in excitement and got up from the bed. She went one grabbed Ava's Time Courier and opened a portal into their bedroom on the Waverider. Ava followed her threw the open portal as Sara opened the second drawer in the cabinet that was built into the wall and pulled out She held up the costume for Ava to see. It was definitely a sexy skin tight costume. It was a three piece skeleton corset, leggings, and black with white rimmed tutu.

Ava just shook her head and smiled. "Okay but now we need to get a costume for me."

……………………………………………………………………

The Halloween party was in full swing. The majority of the lights had been turned off, leaving only red and gray lights. Zari had gotten an actual smoke machine that had flooded the ground. With ghosts and skeletons hung up around the room and a vast array of spider webs crisscrossed the ceiling Zari had gone all out. Ava had already managed to get caught up in one of the spider webs and after a cup of blood punch that was heavily spiked, she was happy to sit for the rest of the party talk with Nora at one of the tables.

"Why a witch?” Ava asked Nora as she set down her yellow and black scarf on the table narrowly avoiding one of the candles set up among the pumpkins.

Nora just shrugged, "I think Ray just wanted an excuse to wear the beard and I couldn't say no."

They both looked over to where Ray was dressed as Dumbledore complete with a long white beard, standing next to the food table and talking with Nate who was dressed as Indiana Jones.

"I suppose I don't have to ask why you chose your costume,” Nora said, referring to the ghost white and gray suit that Ava was wearing along with the skull makeup and splashes of blood and cuts, before looking over to where Sara was dancing with Mona and Charlie, the white skull face makeup and bones of her costume glowed in the dark light. Accenting the low cut corset and short skirt.

"It’s what she wanted."

Nora laughed and Ava rolled her eyes at her friend, looking back at Sara. She caught Ava’s eye and now was purposely dancing seductively until Charlie pulled her aside and they went over can grab another drink.

"We’re not whipped," Ava said looking back at Nora.

"No absolutely not," Nora said with a shake of her head and a frown on her lips, as she quickly took another sip of her drink.

"Yeah, of course not," Ava said shaking your head too fast.

They took one look at each other and burst out into a fit of giggles. They both knew that they were head over heels for their partners.

"Hey, did you finish the book club book?" Ava asked thinking about the Halloweenish, boy wizard book set in England. Mona had been appalled when both of them admitted they had never read it.

"Yes," Nora said reaching over and slapping Ava's arm. "And you should too it's actually pretty good. "

"I know," Ava said frowning at the thought. "I just read the first few pages, but it was just dull and childish and the way his family treats him…"

"It gets better," Nora said. "And you know how disappointed Mona is going to be."

"What's going to disappoint me?" Mona asked appearing at their table out of breath I'm dancing but smiling, complete with cute cat whiskers headband and cat ears.

"The fact that we didn't save you any of Lady Bird Johnson's pecan pie," Nora said, quickly covering and trying her best to not look guilty.

"Oh that's okay," Mona said, waving them off. "Besides I've already had three pieces of pumpkin pie, it's my true favorite."

"I'll have to remember that for Thanksgiving," Ava said with a smile.

Mona squealed and did a whole body wiggle. "I love the holidays! Now come on you have to come dance with me."

She grabbed both Nora and Avas’ arms ignoring their whines and groans of protest as she dragged them onto the dance floor.

Ava barely lasted for fifteen minutes, before she was making up an excuse that she was thirsty and headed for the drinks that were set up on the table in the parlor. It was a bit better lit than the rest of the bridge, although not by much. Ava almost tripped over Charlie who was crouched over on the floor with a broom and dustpan picking up shards of glass. Ava looked over the mess and grabbed a rag to help whipped up the spilled drinks.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah, Charlie nodded. “It's just those fancy glasses Zari insisted on using. They just shatter the second they hit the floor."

"Are those part of the decorations?" Ava said looking closer to see the outline of bloody footprints leading out of the room.

"Oh bullocks. It must be from Sara, she said she was gonna go get the vacuum."

"I'm going to go check on her."

There was a heavy trail of blood from mostly side or heel footprints and Ava's worry grew as she followed them over to the bathroom across the hall, rather than to the Med-Bay where Sara should have gone. They stopped at the door to the bathroom and she quickly knocked.

"Hey Sara, it's me honey. Can you open the door?"

The door to the bathroom slid open to reveal Sara on the other side of the bathroom. She was sitting on the edge of the tub with one foot resting on her other knee underneath a towel.

"Thank you Gideon,” Sara said.

Ava stepped into the bathroom and followed the blood trail. When she saw the small pool of blood on the towel, she quickly rushed over, kneeling down next to Sara and taking a look at her foot.

"It's not as bad as it looks,” Sara assured her.

Ava wasn't quite so sure. Sara's whole foot was bloody with thousands of tiny pieces of glass shards embedded across the sole of her foot. Sara grabbed a small piece of glass out of her toe with a pair of tweezers and dropped it into a bowl to her left. Ava grabbed the edge of the towel and tried to lightly press it against the blood that gushed from the now open wound.

"We have to go to the Med-Bay,” Ava said looking up at her.

"No," Sara began to protest.

"Sara," Ava said grabbing her hand and gave it a squeeze. "You're bleeding quite profusely and at this rate, it's going to take at least an hour to get all this glass out."

"That was what I advised the Captain to do as well," Gideon sniped at her.

Sara rolled her eyes at both of them.

"I saw that," Gideon said.

"No, I'd rather do it myself, I'll go to the Med-Bay after I get everything out," Sara said taking out another piece of glass.

Ava just shook her head and looked back down at Sara’s foot. She got up and went over to the cabinet, grabbing another towel and bring it over. Sara switched it out with the drenched bloody towel and Ava took it straight to the trash shoot. Ava knew Sara wouldn't listen to anyone's medical advice but her own. Even if it meant withstanding a significant amount of pain and blood loss.

Ava sat down next to Sara and loosely wrapped up her foot in the new towel as carefully as possible, before pulling one arm under her knees and the other behind Sara’s back and picking her up.

"Ava what the... Put me down," Sara protested wiggling in her arms, but Ava just held onto Sara tighter as Gideon open the door for them.

"Sara, it's not going to kill you to just go to the Med-Bay straight away," Ava said, as she walked down the hall.

Sara let out a long drawn out and dramatic sigh but, she stopped wiggling and put one arm around Ava's neck.

"You don't have to carry me, you know, I can hop."

"I know," Ava said with a smile. "But one must always carry their damsel in distress."

Sara laughed at that and leaning up to kiss Ava’s collarbone, since she couldn't quite reach her lips.

When they reached the Med-Bay Ava set Sara down and snapped the bracelet around her wrist. Gideon quickly got to work on Sara's foot, as the robot arms came out and took multiple pieces a glass out at once. The bleeding hadn’t stopped but, Gideon applied a mist over the wounds and it was slowing down. Ava watched as Sara relaxed back into the chair, before lazily looking over at Ava with an easy smile.

"Gideon? Did you drug Sara?"

"Of course, I gave Captain Lance something for the pain as well as a light sedative that I give to all my difficult patients. It should wear off within a few minutes."

Ava couldn't help but laugh, especially when Sara pouted at her so adorably.

"It's not funny," Sara said.

Ava didn't respond, she just leaned in and kissed Sara, reveling in the fact that she quickly smiled against Ava's lips.

Gideon was quick and efficient, as soon as the robot hands disappeared back into the walls Sara sat up and pulled her foot back to inspect it. All the glass and blood were gone leaving only fresh new pink skin.

"Thank you Gideon," Ava said, briefly looking away from Sara and up to the ceiling. "Ah hem?"

Ava nudged Sara who prodded the new skin of her sole. "Yeah, thanks Gid."

"You’re welcome Captain."

"Ready to go back to the party?" Sara asked looking up at her.

Ava’s face betrayed her with a disgruntled look, she leaned down and rested her elbows and upper body on the chair.

"Not a fan of the party?"

"It’s fun, it’s just not really my thing, but I know it’s your thing, so we can go back for a little while longer."

Sara leaned forward and placed a kiss on Ava’s forehead. "It’s okay, I’m kinda partied out too. It’s not as fun as it was when I was 20."

Ava giggled and got back up, she held out her hand. "Want to go home, watch a movie, and hand out candy to all the cute kids."

Sara grabbed her hand and swung her legs around. She stood up and let Ava pull her in for a kiss, that was soft and sweet as they melted into their lips.

"I’m gonna go grab some candy and some wine and I’ll meet you back at the house," Sara said smoothing out the lapel of Ava’s suit.

"After you put on shoes!" Ava insisted.

"Of course."

Sara smiled and kissed Ava again, before untangling herself from Ava’s arms. She walked out the door, but not before she stopped, she held onto the door frame and winked at her. Teasing Ava with a shake of her tutu-clad butt before she disappeared.

Ava let out a breath as the heat rose in her cheeks and programed the Time Courier that was around her wrist. She opened a portal and stepped into the dark living room. She pulled out her phone and used it to turn on the lamp lights and start the fire. She ran upstairs and stripped out of her suit costume, and into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Ava was relieved to be able to wipe away the heavy makeup and went back downstairs.

After grabbing two wine glasses and pulling up Beetlejuice on the tv, she heard the sound of the portal opening behind her and turned to see Sara walking in. She had traded her corset for a skeleton shit, but kept the tutu and tights, and had also wiped her face clean. Sara held up the bottle of wine and a bowl of candy that she placed on the table in the hall, then flicked on the porch light and walked back over to her. Ava reached out her arms and Sara ran up to her, Ava picked her up with ease as Sara wrapped her legs around her waist.

Sara giggled as Ava sat down on the couch with Sara in her lap and relaxed back into the cushions. Sara leaned forward and poured them each a glass of wine as Ava started the movie. They both settled in as the movie started and Ava couldn’t help but sigh in content.

"This is nice, Thank you," Ava said looking down and Sara. Sometimes she was so overwhelmed by how much she loved this woman. She felt like she was floating on cloud nine when Sara smiled at her.

Which she did, Sara smiled and kissed her lips. "I’m happy anywhere you are."

Ava kissed her again and they settled in to watch the movie. However, the quiet didn’t last long as the doorbell rang.

Sara eagerly jumped up and ran to the door with Ava trailing behind her. She leaned against the wall as she watched Sara open the door and great the kids, giving them each a handful of candy and complemented their costumes. This, a quite domestic holiday with Sara, this was perfect.

[rainandhotchocolate]

Blackout - Part 2

 A/N hello its here! I know I’ve not updated anything else, and I will get to them but this story is getting me out of my writers block and focusing on it is making me happi :)) Hope you enjoy!

Part 2

Lily pushed Y/N back on her bed, her head still leaning up slightly towards the doorway, eyes flashing. The healer had come back to the room and was checking her vitals again, brow furrowed as he checked her heart rate which had increased exponentially.

“How are you feeling?” He smiled at her warmly, lifting his clipboard and glancing over at Lily expectantly as Y/N didn’t answer.

“She just woke up, she was a bit overwhelmed by the people in the room.”

“That’s understandable,” He nodded, the scratching of his quill across Y/N’s chart. “It might be best to have just one person in the room at a time. Are you family…?” He paused momentarily, looking at Lily’s pale skin and bright red hair in comparison to Y/N’s very different complexion.

“Adopted sister,” Lily flashed him a smile, “and yes we can do that. The thing was, well…”

“Yes?”

“It kind of seemed like she didn’t recognise them or something.” Lily grimaced, turning back to Y/N who had closed her eyes and was breathing loudly, trying to calm herself down. The healer hummed but said nothing, making some more notes on his clipboard.

“Well? What does that mean? Is it temporary?” Lily’s voice raised a few octaves as she began to glare at the doctor. The noise made Y/N open her eyes again.

“Is what temporary?” Y/N mumbled, “Water?”

Lily handed her the glass beside her bed and placed her hand back on Y/N’s.

“The memory thing, or panic thing, you still haven’t said what it is.” She turned back to the healer who was still making notes. He gave her a look.

“Y/N, do you mind if I ask you for a few questions?”

“Yeah, you can.”

“Can you tell me your name?”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” Y/N blinked a few times and pushed the pillows up slightly from behind her so she could sit more upright.

“And do you know where you are?”

“Well I’m guessing St Mungo’s.”

“Good, that’s right. You were brought in last night.” The healer smiled again. It felt a little patronising but Y/N felt too tired to push her face into a scowl.

“Right. Ok.”

“Can you tell me who your friend is?”

“Lily, Lily Evans.”

Lily smiled at her, squeezing her hand in response.

“How do you know her?” The healer had begun testing her vitals again as he spoke. Y/N felt herself zoning into her heartbeat and breathe as he did so and tried to concentrate on his voice instead.

“From school, Hogwarts. We met on the train.”

“Great, you seem a lot calmer now which is good.” The healer took out his wand slowly and showed it to Y/N. “I’m just going to shine some light in your eyes, if you can follow my directions with your eyes whilst I do so.”

He said up, down, left, right, and watched closely as Y/N followed his directions with her eyes.

“Good. Ok just a few more questions for you – are you still feeling ok?”

“Yep, go for it.”

“Can you tell me what you did last night?”

“I… I went – “ Y/N racked her brain trying to recall what had happened. What did she do last night? Why wasn’t it there?

Y/N felt her chest freeze up suddenly. It was like there was a gaping hole in her head. She felt her heart pumping into her throat. Why can’t she remember? Lily’s hand squeezed harder and looked down to realise she’d kicked off some of the covers.

“It’s ok, don’t try to strain yourself trying to remember, it’s completely normal to feel fuzzy or confused.”

“But I don’t – there’s nothing? How can there be nothing?” Y/N felt sick. She couldn’t think.

“What’s the last thing you can remember?” The healer said kindly, but it somehow made Y/N feel worse.

“I don’t know, what kind of question is that? What’s the last thing you remember?” Y/N felt anger bubbling up, clenching in her chest, anger that shouldn’t be targeted at the healer who was being perfectly reasonable.

“I’m sorry, I know this is a stressful time. I’m going to let you rest for a little longer but we will need to do some more tests so we can make sure we are treating you accordingly.”

“Ok, can I stay with her?” Lily batted her eyelashes up at him, but he laughed.

“Yes, but only if she sleeps and she doesn’t get agitated or have her heart rate rise again.”

“I am here you know,” Y/N grumbled, but she settled back into her pillows regardless.

Y/N dozed in and out of sleep for the next few hours, and the sun had begun to set before she felt properly awake again. Lily was no longer reading next to her, and the rest of the room had gone quiet as the patients began to fall asleep. The only noise came from the soft muttering and movement from outside the door from the healers out in the hallway.

Y/N pulled herself upright slowly, groaning at the ache that pulled at her stomach. There was a tray of food sitting on the table beside her, her stomach growling as she saw the yogurt and jelly and tray of mash potatoes with vegetables and sauce. It probably tasted like sandpaper, but she ate it all anyway, licking the edge of the jelly container and cutting her tongue slightly, ignoring it as she scooped out the last flecks of food she could find. She sucked in a deep breath when she finished.

The silence had begun to feel a bit eerie, moonlight edging its way into the room through the large overhead windows, and she was thankful for the interruption that came from the door opening in the far end of the room.

“Hey Y/N, good to see you awake.” The healer had come back into the room, holding his trusty chart.

“What was your name, I’m sorry I don’t think I asked before.”

“That’s ok, you’ve been in and out of consciousness for a little while now I wouldn’t expect you to remember it.” He smiled, placing down the chart and sitting next to her, pushing it in close to her bed. “I’m Turpin, I work across unknown spell cases so I have a lot of expertise in your area.”

He pauses, looking down momentarily. It makes Y/N’s stomach lurch again.

“We’ve placed a tracking spell on your body, monitoring its reaction to stimuli, how it’s functioning, that kind of thing. Currently, we are seeing your body heal as we expected which is really great news.”

“So, what’s the not so great news.”

“The reaction to your friends has caused us to investigate a little further and have found some issues in brain function – but we don’t want to create cause for panic before knowing anything for sure. I wanted to ask, could you tell me about the reaction to your friends?”

“They aren’t my friends. Well, Lily, yes, but I don’t know why the rest of them were here.” Y/N swallowed. She felt nervous, like it was a test or something.

“And why is that?” He probed further.

“I… I don’t really know them? They went to school with me but, I mean, we weren’t friends, aren’t friends.” She saw Turpin’s eyes flash up to the monitor beside her and she knew her heart rate had gone up again. She tried to will it back down, calm herself slightly but all she managed was to feel it louder in her chest.

“They brought you in last night – do you know why you might have been with them?”

“No, I don’t really. I mean Lily is seeing James so maybe? But I don’t really know them so I just…” The healer flicked his wand and a cup and kettle appeared in front of her. He handed her the cup of tea and told her to drink, Y/N realising that she had begun breathing very heavily as she was speaking and struggled to get the first few sips down.

“We only need to ask because the curses you were found with were dark magic, and given the current situation we need to be as cautious as we can.”

“Dark magic?” Y/N felt a strange disconnect between the panic in her head and the tea slowly calming her system as she drank. This definitely wasn’t muggle tea.

“There’s no need to worry, they brought you in time for it to be treated accordingly, you have some great friends out there – even if you can’t yet remember.”

Turpin’s lips curled into what could have been a smile, but Y/N’s eyes had already begun to close slowly.

“Yeah, I guess I do.” Y/N mumbled to herself, slowly drifting back to sleep.

Sirius, however, wasn’t sleeping. He was in fact doing what could almost be the exact opposite, pacing speedily up and down his apartment, ignoring the murmurs of Peter and Remus and James’s hand on his shoulder ever few minutes telling him he needed to sit, he needed to take a beat. What I need to do is see Y/N he thought bitterly but didn’t say it out loud. After Lily had returned and given them an update she had said that Y/N was still not ready for visitors, and didn’t take kindly to Sirius’s very loud accusations that he wasn’t a bloody visitor he was her boyfriend and practically family.

Now, he was going over all the names of all the people he could remember standing near him two nights ago when Y/N had been fighting with him. All the death eaters that could have done this to her. All the death eaters that were going to pay.

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