#i miss being an actual person on here and not just an apologetic artist once every couple of months and a silent reblogger

[pixelatedrose]

*Pokes blog* so are we alive at all?

[qslovebot]

KISS FOR YOUR LIFE: SPENCER REID

Summary: A BAU case leads the reader to take on an undercover role to flush out a ten-person mafia. Before the work can begin, things go awry and the reader has to improvise and pretend to seduce Spencer to keep her cover and arrest the real unsub.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings/includes: talk of murder, mentions of sex, suggested past experiences with misogyny, suggestive jokes, unsub is a radical feminist, swearing, arrests, guns, making out, sort of fluffy end.

Word Count: 4159

A/N: Written like an episode. I removed Rossi so... AU? First actual fanfic on here, tell me what you think?

Today was your first official day at the BAU, switching from two floors down as an underestimated agent to upstairs, with the Big League. Agent Hotchner decided he needed new, young-minded blood. He was notorious for picking the best of the best and after an intimidating interview with him and his brooding questions, he decided he wanted you on his team.

You had been here before, of course. You frequently visited the ever-chatting Penelope Garcia for lunch, sometimes in her office, sometimes heading downstairs for a slice of pizza or a salad. She vented about her issues, while you talked about the constant misogyny that ran through the men on your floor. She was five years older than you and decided that as your 'elder' she would put on the angry soccer mom look and kick their asses. But, lucky for you, two floors upward, the men didn't act like children on the job, so Garcia could keep her regular look.

Here it was, glass entrance, high ceilings. The air smelled like paper and was filled with a fresh sort of low mumbling and the small clicks of the keyboards. A semi-fresh start. Today you would organize your new desk, sort files, meet the others...

"Agent (Y/L/N), we have a case in Boston, we will be briefed on the jet. Get your things ready, we leave in twenty-five minutes," Agent Hotchner said as he walked by. He didn't stop for a single second, those dark dress shoes clomping heavily to the desks of your new fellow agents to inform them as well. So much for your plans.

Not wanting to appear unready, you rushed to set your things down and grab the few things you needed for the case. Hotchner had said always bring three spare outfits rolled to the smallest packing size possible, toiletries (toothpaste, toothbrush, hairbrush, and feminine hygiene products) as well as one extra pair of shoes. Those were already packed into a small bag, so in with those went your notebook, pens, and highlighter. You came prepared, so in no time, you were on the jet for the first time, exhilarated.

A hand was extended to you when you took your seat. It belonged to a man with caramel skin and a dazzling smile, "You must be (Y/L/N). The name is Derek Morgan." Anyone who used 'the name is' seemed like they felt superior in some way. It was used in the media to introduce someone of importance. 'The name is Bond, James Bond', ran through your head as you gratefully shook his hand.

"My name is Emily Prentiss and I... didn't quite catch your first name," a woman with a v-neck sweater also reached to shake your hand. "I think I may have heard it, but I must have forgotten."

"(Y/N)," you replied with a small smile. It felt nice to be greeted with kind eyes, rather than greedy ones. "It's not a very memorable name, don't worry."

Emily looked apologetic, but soon reverted to her previous smile. I was greeted by the blonde woman across the aisle, too far to shake my hand. "My name is Jennifer Jareau, I'm the media liaison, but you can call me JJ, everyone does. It's really great to meet you- for a moment I thought Penelope had made up a friend as a result of too many hours in front of a screen."

You laughed a little, ruffling your hair. She seemed outgoing, but I had already started profiling Derek Morgan and I wanted to stop there. Agent Hotchner sat down with someone I had never noticed on my visits to Penelope. I had noticed everyone else here on this jet at least once before, but... not him. How had you missed him?

He stood at about six-one, maybe six-two? He was thin, much the opposite to Morgan's greatly muscular arms. This man was calm-looking, quiet. His clothes said that maybe he was meticulous and orderly- he looked like the kind of person who didn't own a single pair of sweatpants. His face was chiselled, with a sharp jawline and cheekbones that carved the shadows on his face. His eyes, however, were much softer. Long eyelashes and dark eyes made them bigger, but they were slightly blocked by bronze-toned brown curls that at the end of his combed and gelled hair, wrapped around his jaw, neck, and face.

He was beautiful, if you were entirely frank with yourself.

And he didn't even notice you were there until Hotchner nudged his arm in a way that said 'say hello' the same way one would introduce two toddlers. You were sure you weren't a toddler and nor was this man, but it appeared you both may have been the youngest there.

When he looked your way, you wanted to look away, but couldn't. He seemed surprised to see you there and you were trying to play off the staring by introducing yourself. "Hi, I'm SSA (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I don't think we've met, it's nice to meet you." You extended your hand and he just shook his head no, his lips pressing into a tight line.

He didn't shake hands, you realized. Probably a slight germophobe. You cleared your throat, "I'm sorry if that was an uncomfortable gesture, I didn't know." Humiliating.

The tall man opened his mouth to say something, shut his mouth, opened it again but then turned a little pink and sat down immediately next to Hotchner and stared at his hands that were folded in his lap. You had thought you nailed pretty much every introduction, but this one? Fuck.

You reverted back to your business with a sigh, patting your knees. It felt like you had somehow lost something. JJ whispered to you, silently pointing to the tall man, "Dr. Spencer Reid, human encyclopedia, dictionary, and knows pretty much everything." You nodded a thank you and she nodded back.

Derek Morgan, however, tapped Emily Prentiss on the shoulder and mumbled, "Reid did his 'pretty-girl-freakout'."

Emily gasped, "Oh, he did!

The two seemed to have forgotten you were in front of them and they noticed your confusion in unison, both of them freezing up and chuckling nervously. You smiled an extremely awkward smile and left thinking about Dr. Spencer Reid for later as you got to the case.

This was about a female mafia boss who seemed to take on the personality, style, and characteristics of the taste of rich men and kill them after having sex with them. The woman was reported and seen by one witness to see her and that was the only person outside of this mafia who had seen her face, so they were working with the sketch artist and would have the picture ready and accurate upon our arrival.

Victimology was simple, she was after men who had too much power. She probably identified with being a radical feminist. She was after their money and had sex with them to dethrone them on the way. Possibly bordered on a personality disorder considering she seemed to be entirely all-in to her 'disguises'.

The funniest thing was the way they all looked at you when you announced those lines. Perhaps you would work yourself out of the 'child' stage faster than you thought.

The BAU hit the precinct in much less time than I had expected and on the ground, running. You were immediately given things to do and you were on top of it all, every order. That was until the drawing of the Mafia leader AKA 'The Seductress' was pulled up and the whole BAU gasped at how she looked EXACTLY like you.

"Do I need my cuffs?" Morgan joked. You had covered your mouth in disbelief and the rest of the room was doing double-takes.

You laughed nervously, "I swear... that isn't me, but oh my god..." Morgan was laughing and Emily and JJ whispering and had confused smiles. Spencer Reid stood in the corner, his hand on his cheek, seemingly studying the photo. He looked statue-like, borderline godly.

"Can this be used to our advantage?" Hotch launched back into technical thinking, brow furrowed. You looked at him, mouth open, but immediately shut it out of professionalism. What was going on in his head?

Reid spoke up, "If we position her just right and at the right time in one of the hotspots for that group, we can possibly get her to somehow trick the other members into some sort of turn-in."

Her. Indirect. Did you do something wrong?

"Or a simple appearance could start gossip and a possible flock to where she was spotted. As long as people aren't seeing double or reaching to do so, she can play as The Seductress." Emily said, looking at you. "Are you up to try, (Y/L/N)?"

All eyes on you. Your first day turned to chaos. But this was your job and you would prove your place here. So you agreed and in a whisk of an afternoon, you were transformed into the mirror image of The Seductress while you were talked through the plan through a radio. Turned out, so prove a professional place, you needed to make yourself look ridiculously unprofessional.

Pinned up hair, dark cat eye makeup, a dress similar to hers that happened to be on hand. Long, deep red, with a long slit up the side and your tits were practically falling out of it, but the dress fit and they were secure, so you dealt with it. There was no other space for a gun other than the side of your thigh where The Seductress kept hers knife. Now, you had to get going, meaning you had to face the BAU in the getup.

When you walked out, Derek Morgan hooted and whistled and Emily gave him a look that said 'oh lord' like an annoyed sibling. You smiled a little and essentially just kept walking, figuring if you moved, it would give them less time to stare at your tits.

Turning the corner, you noticed that Dr.Spencer Reid was much redder than he had been earlier on the jet. So maybe he really did think you were pretty. You caught yourself smiling at the thought, but shook your head free of any ideas. Professional! No crushes on Spencer Reid!

You arrived near the scene, dropped off by Hotchner. "You know what to do. Reid will be going with you to the crateyard, he will also be nearby when you head in. If you see The Seductress, do not make the arrest. If you can, lure her."

You nodded. Wow, first time in the field with the BAU and you had the leading role. No pressure, no pressure, just... everyone depending on you. But the pressure came back when you realized you had heard right and Reid was going with you, alone. You had done really well with the job so far today, minus finding the tall doctor extremely attractive. He came to stand beside you and since he was much taller than you were, you were sure he could look right down your dress without even trying. Not like anyone had to try, but he had the upper hand.

You ached to cover yourself, but that was a major risk. The Seductress was confident, she wouldn't cover-up. You got into the tinted car with Reid, him in the driver's seat and you in the passenger's seat. Silence crept up, but he turned the engine over and headed east to where the mafia was to meet up.

"Some first day," you mumbled nervously.

Reid seemed to think you had said something to him and he talked to you directly for what seemed like the first time. "P-pardon?" He had a stutter when talking to you and to be honest it was cute but there was no time to crush!

"Oh, I was just remarking to myself on how this is my first day and I'm already... so... out there." You sighed and pat your knees. The jitters crept up, but so did butterflies. "Nervous, I'm nervous."

He looked over and swallowed hard, so hard it was audible. Was he fighting the same urge to be friendlier or was he just fighting the urge to look at your tits like a twelve-year-old boy would? Either way, you were glad he was with you. He smelled like books, leather, and cologne and it was oddly calming.

You reached the other side of the crateyard in a few more minutes and he handed you your gun, which you shoved into the holster on your thigh. "You're going without a vest so... k-keep focused," Spencer said- and it seemed like he had so many words jumbled on the tip of his tongue, but refused to say them. You thought he was afraid to annoy you, as you knew he liked to give lengthy explanations. "I'll be behind, uh- the crates."

You smiled at him and watched him look away, his curls falling in his face. God, he was so gorgeous. If this went wrong, you were glad you would go with that shy look of his in the front of your mind. He pulled on his vest and you put out a hand and stopped him. "If they see you with the vest at all, in any way, they'll know what's happening."

He nodded, keeping his eyes from yours as he pulled on a plain black jacket over the vest. For a genius, he seemed to have his mind a little fuzzy tonight. In the dark of the night, the only lights were flickering lamps on high-beamed poles. Your heart was beating hard as you waited for the signal to begin to move.

"G-good luck," Spencer's words fumbled out of his mouth and I looked at him for a moment where he looked right back at you. He chewed on his bottom lip, eyelids fluttering as you tried to look anywhere else and there it was- the radio signal. The tension that was there in that brief moment defused. You gave him a small smile before opening the car door and standing tall, in the aura of The Seductress.

Spencer waited until you were out between the crates to leave the car. You heard the door shut gently behind you, but his footsteps were silent. Much quicker than you thought, there was a gruff voice that didn't belong to Spencer. "My lady, may I say what an honour it is to have you join us this evening." You spun to face a man in a dark suit. You didn't have The Seductress's voice, so you nodded in the most gracious way you could.

"Bernard and Lolita are waiting inside the abandoned building for the small exchange as well as the rest of us, but Mamacita... you're being tailed by the FBI." He said, pointing to the crate that hid Dr. Spencer Reid. Fuck, fuck, fuck. "I'll go kill him for you!"

So flat out, he wanted to kill Spencer Reid, a rotting smile on his face as if it was an act of kindness. He knew Spencer was there, he saw... but you weren't busted? God, this man was stupid.

"No," you said, in a quiet, yet strong voice, grabbing the gruff man by the shoulder pad. "He is my kill."

The man grinned an evil grin and you did your best to smile evilly in return. You showed him your gun and he rubbed his palms together. "The gluck and Glock," he chuckled. "Can I watch?"

He thought you were going to fuck and kill Spencer. Your heart skipped a beat and you tried hard not to show it. Oh no... how to work your way out of this... Spencer couldn't help you. Or... could he?

You glared at the man, "No, but I know that his team is on the way. Get Bernard, Lolita, and anyone else in on the next killings from that abandoned building and run straight west. Do not stop. I will catch up to you once I'm finished with the agent here." You improvised the best you could and this stupid man bought it. Little did he know that the team was stationed Westbound.

"Got it," his face was dazed and malevolent. "But I'm not leaving until I know you've got this handled, my lady."

"You question my skill?" You shot back, still acting.

He looked scared for a moment, "No, not at all, I just... You're a lot shorter than I was expecting."

You stared daggers, "And you insult me?"

"Just wanted to know you had it covered... in case something is fishy here..." was he really catching on or was he confused and just running through the precautions?

Fuck, you had been so focused on the cover you forgot you were a profiler. This man was small-minded, probably brought into this ordeal through family ties. Since he was so stupid, he was trusted with less... hence why he was outside the building as the lookout, rather than in on the meeting.

Why he wouldn't leave- he was so incapable of proper interaction he had never had the chance to be with a woman. Watching was the only way he would ever see. He was stupid and he was stubborn. He was not going to leave until he saw the beginning.

The best thing would be to let him stay for proof. "Fine. But when I give you my look, you run and get everyone running straight West." You narrowed your eyebrows at him and he looked like he was going to sweat out of his skin. But... this meant...

You had a few seconds, you rushed over to behind the crate to where Spencer stood, his gun in hand. "W-what are you-" he questioned in a whisper-yell.

"He's onto me, I need you to go along with this- can I kiss you, Dr.Reid?" You whispered back. His eyes went wide and his cheeks flushed pink. Once again, being professional called for being unprofessional. You really didn't want to kiss him- at least not now, not like this. He wouldn't speak and the mafia man was coming. "Reid, if I don't do this, he won't flush the group West and we'll both be shot and if not shot, targeted by a mafia!"

"Y-yes!" he practically squeaked, his back to the crate he was hiding behind. This really was the only way- this other man would not be talked down, because he was taught to just shoot, rather than listen and understand. "I'm sorry if I-"

You cut him off by reaching up, grabbing the collar of his shirt and kissing him. It took him a moment, but he kissed back. You could feel the heat off of his cheeks. The first day on the job, you had embarrassed yourself, gotten dressed like a Mafia killer, played the part, and now you were kissing Dr.Spencer Reid in a crateyard... and he was surprisingly not a bad kisser. He was a little sloppy the first few seconds but moments later, he figured it out. His one hand went on your jaw, the other on your waist, both of them shaking. You could tell that the shaking wasn't because the man watching you both right now had a gun, it was you.

You were making out with him, hard. Your body was pressed to his tightly against the crate and Spencer was holding you there. Your hands were still gripping his shirt. Messy altogether but your lips met in every perfect way. It was good, but for work. This was when you knew to stop- you had convinced the other man. You pulled away, turned your head and mouthed to the mafia man, 'GO' and he ran.

Now things would be extremely awkward. You pushed yourself away from Spencer whose hands stayed on your waist and face until you were entirely out of his reach. You laughed anxiously and he stood there, hands behind his back. That was... that was wow, but... it was for the case. For the case.

It was time to get moving. Spencer knew it, you knew it. The real Seductress was on her way. You turned your head over your shoulder and he was moving slowly, head down. You fought off a small smile. He was entirely red, gun still held loosely in his hand.

You turned your head and were met by a sharp blow to the face. Both of you had let your guard down. Stupid.

"I don't like impostors," said the female voice that was the source of the blow. Hell, it was her. Spencer clocked his gun into place and you turned, elbowing The Seductress in the chest. She returned with another hard blow that you ducked, spinning around her and kicking the back of her leg. She recovered quickly and shot up, punching you in the stomach. You lost your breath for a second and she took the opportunity to punch you in the jaw and pull a knife.

"Put the knife down!" Spencer called. His voice was stronger facing a woman with a sharp knife than it was when talking to you alone. "I know who you are, you want what's right for women, correct?"

The Seductress narrowed her eyes at him like her next meal, leaving you on the ground. Would Spencer shoot if she threw that knife? Odd she didn't have a gun on her. She must have been relying on the others for more protection. You stood up quietly, watching her slowly advance on Spencer. He had your lipstick smeared over his lips, he looked rough, but he held his gun out in front of him and had the other hand up to reason with her. "Men like you think yourselves above women. You, FBI, you think yourself better than men and women alike because you're the authority. Tell me, how do you like your women, Agent?"

He gulped, eyes flickering to you. You pulled out your gun. "I think... I think I'm a weak man and I'm no better than anyone. I don't deserve women." Spencer said, looking at the evil lady. In person, she looked a lot less like you.

"Lies. It's the instinct of men to feel superior to women. You'll have a lot less instinct when you're dead!" She snarled, lunging at him with her blade out. You pulled the trigger, she fell to the ground. Not dead, but wounded to pass out. Spencer narrowly jumped out of her way, watching her knife clatter to the ground.

You looked up at Spencer, bewildered. You had done it. You saved the case, took down a murderous mafia boss. It was only when Spencer pointed at your face and said, "Y-you're bleeding, (Y/N), are you okay?"- that you noticed your cut lip and the blood pouring from your forehead. But you also noticed he called you by your first name.

He reached a hand forward but retracted it when you winced from the sudden pain. Adrenaline took the pain away temporarily, you supposed. There were still things to be done. Spencer called for backup and a medic and watched as you cuffed the woman. She wasn't going to die, but she did need help.

Once medics arrived, Spencer drove you both back to the Westward situation, where ten arrests had been made. You were in a state of haze, so how Spencer's jacket got around your shoulders was a mystery. When you stepped out of the car, you were greeted by the rest of the agents.

"Are you okay?!" Prentiss was the first to greet you both. She grabbed you by the shoulders and looked at the nearly-dried blood on your skin. "We got worried when you didn't follow soon after, you got her?"

"Yeah," you smiled tiredly.

She grinned back. "Fill us in on the details on the way back, okay? Let's get you two cleaned up."

But Derek Morgan found Spencer, "Hey pretty-boy, is that royal rouge you've got on your lips there?" he teased. Spencer panicked and looked into the mirror of the nearest car, seeing that he did in fact have your lipstick on his mouth. He tried to wipe it off with his wrist, but it still stained. You wiped your own lip with your thumb and Derek caught you. "Okay, Miss Newbie, I see you."

Your eyes widened and Emily raised her eyebrows at you, a teasing smile on her lips. "It was to keep my cover. It's what sent those guys your way, one of them has serious sexual issues." You made sure they knew it- to save yourself and to save Spencer. Derek Morgan spun away with a huge knowing grin, back to Hotchner who was conversing with the Chief of Police. Emily pulled you away to the other medics and you shot Spencer a smile as you went.

He smiled back, still wiping off his mouth.

-tags

@ellyhotchner @softhairedhotch <3

[annie-mit-ie]

Glimpses: Part 16 (Kathryn Hahn x Fem!Reader)

Part 1 // previous chapter <<< >>> next chapter

Summary: A lot is happening.

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: hello again! I was away on a family vacation over the weekend and am sitting in a car on the way home. This is, one again, entirely written and edited on the phone so pls be kind 🥰

Moreover, I can’t believe how many people loved and reacted to the last part. Good confidence boost! Hope y’all will enjoy this lighter chapter as well - a new rollercoaster is already awaiting around the corner ;)

Tag List: @danvers97 @zafirosreverie @srtamercurio @wanatag @pulledbythestars17 @plantowl @spacehahn @sarahp-stan @agentbrownierso @our-blood-is-our-ink @fruityhahn @emril-osvigne

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“You told her WHAT?” Jennifer looks at Kathryn in disbelief.

Kathryn, who is sitting on the couch, tea in hand and a wide smile on her face, looks at her manager. “That I think I am in love with her. Yup. I did that,“ she takes another sip. „Because, you know, I think I am.“

She smiles to herself and looks at her tea before she continues talking. „I can’t stop thinking about her. I want her around. Preferably at all times. I know I haven’t talked to her or anyone about it, but really… the whole thing with Jeffrey really made me realize… I couldn’t touch that man. At all. I couldn’t even bring myself to think about it. Because of her. I really do think this is it, Jen.”

Jennifer looks at Kathryn and for a moment both woman fall silent. “I just… I don’t think it’s a good idea. You might be at the height of your career right now. I just have a gut feeling.”

“Eh,” Kathryn waves the remark off with one hand. “You’re wrong.”

Not giving it another thought, she sips her tea and sits in silence, as Jennifer shakes her head and leaves the room, running into Agnes who is just about to enter. Agnes reminds Kathryn that she had to leave for today’s set in a couple of minutes and collects whatever she needs with her.

Agnes seems to be in a very good mood and occasionally checks her phone to stay on track as she leads Kathryn out of the room towards the car she had called for her. The women slip into the backseat and Kathryn immediately lets her head fall back and closed her eyes.

Lately, whenever she does, she can see your face. She doesn’t mind that you didn’t say anything back after she confessed to you. After all, it was her fault for calling right after work where people usually still need her. Right after she poured her heart out, someone came running towards her and told her to meet the director for an urgent arrangement. Obviously, Kathryn had to hang up right away as the project is top secret and the actors are not allowed to have their phones on set at all to keep it that way.

Seeing the tears on her face, the crew member didn’t say anything about the rule and never planned to report her for using a device in the first place. You saw him on you screen for just a second and realized Kathryn had to leave immediately. Both of you smiled and it felt wrong but at the same time the way her eyes looked made up for it and her apologetic good bye forced your heart to skip yet another beat.

Back in reality, Kathryn opens her eyes again and smiles at Agnes who is placing her hand on Kathryn’s. “You okay, K?”

Kathryn nods. “Better than ever before. I just wish she was here, you know?”

Agnes knows.

Today’s shooting is long and Kathryn’s body aches as she falls into bed that night. Tomorrow will be just as long, especially since the crew has to leave the area for a 2-day-shoot in the mountains. She sighs as she leans up against the headrest to type out a message telling you about it all. This week, time is tight and she hasn’t had enough of it to properly talk to you again. Especially with Jennifer following her every step to make sure she takes care of herself.

Preparing for the long shoot, Kathryn puts herself in a kind of trance, especially since her scenes will be mentally and physically demanding. Two days later, she snaps out of it as Agnes and her sit in a car on their way back to the hotel. Weirdly enough, she is full of energy and beams as her team wants to go have dinner tonight to celebrate the end of the week.

She immediately strips and hops into the shower before getting ready for dinner. Thinking about how it’s only gonna be her and the team, she ditches an extensive make up and is just about to just put mascara on as it knocks on her door.

Expecting Agnes or Jennifer to pick her up, Kathryn wants to just ask for them to let themselves in. But something holds her back, so she gets up and opens the door herself.

It’s you. You, in all your beauty. Your hair the way she likes it best, some make up, an outfit that tells her you know she is on her way to dinner. Kathryn is not able to form any words and just continues staring at you as you fiddle with your hands and shoot her a shy smile.

For a moment, neither of you speak or move, until you take a sharp breath. “I am in love with you, too”, you hear yourself say, before you launch forward, cup her face with both hands and capture her lips with yours.

The kiss is long, but sweet and she holds you close after it ends. “Y/N… you are here… you are real…”

There are tears in her eyes as she reaches up to move a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ve missed you so much. Oh god.” She sighs into your ear as she wraps you up in a tight hug while the door falls shot behind you.

A few seconds pass before she lets go and finally faces you. Realizing she isn’t in a position to talk, you take the lead, “I heard you’re going out for dinner?” She nods and cups your face to kiss you again. Hard. Wanting.

“Hold on!” You stop her. “We gotta get going, hm?”

Once again, she nods but you also feel your self slowly being pushed towards the wall behind you. Eventually, your back meets it with a thud, blowing some air out of your lungs. Looking at her, your chore burns and you bite down hard on your lower lip because you can feel yourself spiraling, wanting her, slowly giving in.

“Kathryn…”, you say her name, nearly moan her name. Teasing her with it, you want to see what effect it has on her as you let it roll on your lips. You are finally just about to give in as it knocks on the door again.

Realizing what had just happened, you jump back and remove yourself from Kathryn by ducking under her arms that are resting to your side. She takes a breath and flattens her shirt before running her hand through her hair as she opens the door. It’s Agnes.

“Boss? I’m - oh! HEY Y/N! Nice to see you found each other.” There is a short moment of silence in which she takes in the situation and realizes how out of breath Kathryn, highlighted by the cheeky smile you’re spotting in the background.

She coughs. “The limo is waiting. I’m here to pick you up, the others want to leave.”

Apologetic, she nods once and closes the door behind her again. Kathryn shoots you a short smile, grabs her blazer and your hand and leads you out of the room, following her right away.

The trip is nice. The whole team is there and you recognize Ben, the hairdresser, who is standing with Agnes and Jennifer, right away. As always, the manager acts professional and polite but keeps her distance while Ben wraps you up in a tight hug as he tells you he missed you. There is also a young blonde, whose name you don’t quite understand - Agnes introduced her as the set’s make up artist - and another assistant, who is responsible for all things regarding the project Kathryn is still working on. She seems very busy and organizes something after welcoming Kathryn shortly.

Quickly, you realize that Kathryn invites everyone out for a nice evening as a thank you for their work. She is one of the few people who realize that it takes a team to bring life into a character and it just makes you fall for her more. She shoots you a smile and lets her hand run over your arm before getting into the car where she sinks into the soft limo-seats.

Within the group, you look like you belong. No one would raise any suspicion asking who you are, especially since Kathryn’s set assistant, who is a local, organized a table at a restaurant far away from where the paparazzi would assume an actress would go out to.

The groups time at dinner is great. Once again, Kathryn takes the time to thank everyone and ask about their time and if anyone needed anything that she could provide. Occasionally, she would touch and squeeze your leg under the table and look directly into your eyes as you talk. You love when she puts her arm around the back of your chair to completely face you and take in every word you say. Sometimes, she would even run her index finger over her lip and bits down on it - a common thing she does that makes you forget every thought you’ve ever had. Other than Kathryn, everyone else also seems to be very interested into the stories you tell and they all make you feel like you are right at home, which is a welcomed change to how ex-partners treated you. Not that you and Kathryn are an actual thing.

When dinner comes to an end, everyone is high of laughter and slightly tipsy you are the last person to slip into the car. Kathryn is already sitting in the back of the long couch that fills out the limo. Sitting down, you move a little too fast, prompting her to use your momentum to pull you closer and plant a short kiss on your lips.

Immediately, you pull back and look at the others in shock as you realize you guys weren’t exactly open about it all, but no one seems to think about it any further. Jennifer types on her phone as the make up and hair artists discuss next week’s looks. Only Agnes really realizes and shoots you a wide smile as your eyes meet. Softly, you smile back and, having gained new confidence, lean into Kathryn’s touch who is playing with your hair and place another kiss on her lips before she wraps an arm around you and you just lean against her side.

Back in her hotel room, you sit down on her couch as you are unsure what to do with yourself. Agnes, who organized the whole surprise with you, organized a separate room for you where you put all your stuff this afternoon which is why you seem a little lost right now. She is an angel. Right after Kathryn’s confession, you called Peter who gave you his number just in case you ever needed him. He not only connected you with Agnes - he also offered to take you to the airport. With their help, you managed to get to the woman of your dreams within a couple of days.

Kathryn’s head pops out of the bathroom. “Make yourself at home, honey! It’s all yours as well.”

She shoots you a small smile before she pops back into the room. Sitting there by yourself for a minute, you try to take in everything that is happening tonight and are just starting to wonder where you’re gonna sleep as Kathryn walks back into the bedroom. Locking eyes with you, she walks straight towards you before plopping down next to you on the other side of the couch you are currently sitting on.

A soft smile plays along her lips and her eyes glisten in the bright moonlight that’s coming in through the open window. A light breeze is ruffling through her hair and the whole scene is soaked in dark blue light as the night makes your eyes heavy and you sink into the cushions.

For a moment, you sit in silence as she lets her head fall back with closed eyes and her hand rests on your ankle, slowly caressing it with her thumb. She smiles.

Suddenly, she straightens her back and sits up again, facing you. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You say back with the softest voice you have in you.

“I am so happy you are here. I feel like I can finally breathe again.” Her face lightens up, elevated by the moonlight.

You need a moment to comprehend what she has said before you respond. “I feel like there is no other place I’m supposed to be at.”

Fully focusing on you, she nods as she takes in your every thought while her smile widens. Another breeze comes in through the window and you realize one again how incredibly beautiful you think she is.

Actually,” she takes, “I really don’t want to change that. I would like to have you here.”

For a moment, your brain wonders if she wants to offer you a job - which, absolutely is dumb - but you remember to listen to her as she continues speaking: “If you want to… you can stay. Here. I would love that.”

You feel honored but at the same time you feel like this situation of not talking things out will continue if you don’t take the chance and step up.

You move a little closer to her, rest your elbow on the back of the couch and place your hand (that has been propping up your head) on her cheek, fingertips softly touching her hair. For a blink, you sit there and take in the moment of intimacy before you move a strand of hair behind her air and place your palm against the back of her neck, caressing her slowly.

“Kathryn…. I wanna be with you.” You decide to rip the bandaid off. “I want to hold your hand, kiss you, I want to spend any possible moment with you and just… be.”

Once again, she nods. “I want that, too.”

You both smile. Moving forward, you cross your legs as you take a seat right next to her to take her hands into yours. Her eyes shoot up and she looks at you in anticipation.

You take in a deep breath and collect your confidence to ask a question that makes your heart rate go up so far Kathryn would probably be mad at you for. Right as you open your mouth to talk, the brunette blurts out what is lying on your tongue. “Please be my girlfriend!”

You stare at her in disbelief. It’s what you wanted, but hearing her suggest it is a completely different story. “Please,” she repeats, “I know this isn’t gonna be the easiest ride but… in the short time we’ve been… together… I just.. I want to be with you. REALLY be with you.”

It’s time, it’s time and you can’t hold onto you anymore. You launch forward and pin her down on the couch. Her hands fall over her head and disappear in her wild mane. She looks at you with open eyes and widened pupils as a cheeky grin finds its place on your face.

“Yes! Let’s do it!”, you say before finding her lips and kissing her until both of you can’t breath anymore.

It’s not the romantic situation you’ve always imagined. It’s not the grown-up situation of being with someone older you expected. But somehow, it’s perfect. You remember the countless times she drove you mad. The times you had to hold back. The dreams you’ve had about her and somehow it just seems fitting that this is how she becomes yours. Breathless, on the other side of the world, on a spontaneous surprise after blurting out sweet confessions. After all, you are head over heels for each other which put you in the position you’re in in the first place.

Remembering all the hot longing glimpses she’d thrown your way tonight, you go in for another kiss and deepen it quickly, becoming one with her under the calming moon light.

[magnoliabloomfield]

Possession 13

Nikola spent a lot of time in her room until her period was over, the boys were just too loud even when they didn’t mean to be annoying, and she was still a bit too embarrassed to face Gally. Not only had he helped her clean the blood from her sheets while he was shirtless, she’d also made that weird, hormonal declaration to him from her balcony. But she wouldn’t take it back either because it was true, Gally was just about the sweetest person in existence even if he did have a hardened exterior, or didn’t express himself with tremendous amounts of warmth. The things he did were always just right in his own unique way.

The attention most boys gave her felt meaningless since she was the only girl. It was hard to feel special without other options to be chosen from. Did they like her personality? Did anyone like her with their brains or their heart, or just their hormones?

She wanted to think Gally cared for her beyond the superficial, but she feared the day another girl would show up that he might like better than her, or they got out and there were so many to choose from, what if he didn’t really want her but was settling because she was all there was? But that’s how life was. A small world with one girl and one Gally.

She was supposed to work on some mending that day and went to Gally’s work bench for a pair of scissors. He wasn’t anywhere in sight even as she scanned extra hard for him. She did notice Shawn looking her way and quickly averted her gaze. She grabbed the scissors and looked for a scrap of paper to leave a note on. Gally didn’t like his things going missing, so she was going to let him know she had them and where she’d be if he really needed them back. As she searched she noticed something.

Moving some things out of the way she saw drawings, somewhere between a sketch and a doodle, and it was all of her. She was shocked at how good the drawings were, but even more shocked by how beautiful the artist seemed to think she was. She’d caught some glimpses in rusty mirrors and still water, she didn’t really look that good. She couldn’t fool herself, this was Gally’s table, Gally’s stuff, so it had to be Gally’s drawings. Honestly if he saw one of his builders doodling away he wouldn’t stand for it or keep it around.

She bit back a huge smile before she covered it back up and looked around for his to-do list, maybe that would tell her where to find him. But what would she do when she found him? Say ‘hey, I saw your drawings of me,’ …then what? She just wanted to see him, just be around him, even without a reason. When she did find him he was in the dead heads with the other builders looking for any trees that could come down, or branches for fires or tools. He was busy and there was no privacy, she couldn’t play off going to see him as anything but going to see him just because she wanted to.

~~~

At dinner Gally got a huge surprise. Nikola was sitting at his usual table. It felt like his heart did an extra big thump when he saw her there in the evening glow. He saw Newt make a dash for the table as fast as his limp would let him, looking ready to be entertained by Gally who he claimed was ‘totally whipped’, whatever that meant. They were saying hello to each other as Gally sat down across from her.

“Hey,” she greeted him with a smile in front of all the other boys. “Did you get my note about borrowing your scissors today?”

“Yeah, I did,” he nodded, glancing at Newt who was watching them like they were a compelling tennis match. “Thanks for putting them back.”

“I saw your sketches,” she said innocently enough but there was flicker in her eyes that made him freeze.

The sketches. The sketches of her, she saw them, oh crap.

“They’re really good, I think you could make a perfect greenhouse if you had the glass for it,” she went on, but her eyes told him she wasn’t really talking about the greenhouse. Strange too was that she didn’t seem bothered by it in the slightest.

Gally swallowed despite not having taken a bite of food yet. “Thanks. I like to plan ahead for future possibilities.”

“You never planned for this possibility,” Newt smirked as he pointed at Nikola.

Gally shrugged. “You can’t plan for everything.”

“Very true,” Newt admitted. “I mean, you were quite worried about the effects a girl in the glade might have, but nothing terrible has happened yet and you seem to get along thick as thieves.”

Gally gave Newt a hard stare.

“He does like to keep the chaos organized, doesn’t he?” Nikola conspired with Newt, a well meaning tone in her teasing. “Honestly, what would you do without him?”

“Better question is what you’d do without him,” Newt countered. He had spent enough time with her to realize who she fancied, no matter how stoic and subtle she tried to be.

“Oof,” she got a thoughtful look on her face. “Well, I’d be homeless.”

Newt laughed and even Gally cracked a smile.

“I might be under someones thumb, too,” she went on. “Without Gally advocating for me to get on the council. I wouldn’t have my swing!”

“Yeah, I heard about that,” Newt said looking right at Gally with an almost taunting grin.

“But all that sounds pretty terrible,” she waved it off. “It’s not just about the things Gally has done for me, or what I’ve gotten from him. He’s my best friend.”

“Is he now?” Newt asked in surprise that sounded more genuine than teasing. Meanwhile Gally could feel that he had gone absolutely, unsubtly red.

“He is,” Nikola smiled, looking at Gally as she answered Newt’s question, watching him adoringly as he bashfully avoided her gaze with red cheeks and ears as he pushed food around on his plate.

“I have bad news for you, love,” Newt sighed. “Gally’s best friend is me. Isn’t that right, Gally?”

Gally looked at him with one raised brow but didn’t say anything which Newt found very amusing in itself. But then Newt gave a sigh as if the fun was over.

“I know it’s- well actually I can only try to imagine how hard it is for you being the only girl here, and how there are so many normal and fun things you should be able to do… but this place is anything but normal. I get it, I don’t mind the fun and the teasing, but there are some who might. I know it’s not fair, but try to be a bit more careful. I really would hate to see either of you get hurt if someone got the wrong idea.”

Nikola looked thoroughly chastised even though Newt had spoken so soft and kindly.

“Right. You’re right,” she nodded as she looked down at her lap and bit her lips. She looked back up with just a ghost of the smile she was wearing before. “I guess I got away from myself there. I’ll have to work on that.”

Gally felt his heart sinking in his chest. He knew Newt was right but he didn’t want her to become reserved and shy away from him just to try and keep peace with some jealous shanks. She’d done all this just because she had seen his sketches of her, had he made her that happy to begin with?

“I guess I’ll go ahead and turn in then,” She said with a shine to her eyes that he hadn’t seen on her before, but he recognized it still because even boys cried.

She said goodnight and took her plate to the kitchen before heading to her house without looking back. It was all going on behind Gally’s back and he couldn’t look at her without making it obvious, but he watched Newt watching her, his longer hair hiding his gaze from others around him.

“I’ve gotten it all wrong haven’t I?” Newt sighed after Nikola disappeared from his view.

“How’s that?” Gally asked, suddenly not so hungry anymore.

“I think you’re the one who has her wrapped around your finger,” Newt clarified making Gally blush again against his will.

“I don’t,” Gally tried to argue quietly and just earned a disbelieving look.

“You best be very careful,” Newt warned. “No one says anything around you because they know you’re protective of her, and you can beat them to a bloody pulp, but there are some boys who would be very sore if she was taken. I know you can take anyone one-on-one but I don’t know if you could take them all at once, and I’m afraid it could come to that.”

“Who is saying what about Nikola?” Gally demanded.

“Oh god, it’s mutual pining,” Newt sighed to himself tiredly as he rubbed his face. “I’m not going to tell you that because you can’t act like you don’t know and you’d end up in trouble any way. For her sake and yours just tread carefully.”

“I don’t want things to go backwards. She trusts me, she knows I’d do anything to protect her,” Gally spilled without meaning to.

“If you’re willing to do anything than do this, just back off a bit when others are around,” Newt suggested.

When Gally didn’t say anything to that Newt just shrugged and took his dishes back to the kitchen. Gally sat there at his table alone, deep in thought and murky, unhappy feelings. He stayed there so long, Fry came over himself to take his dishes to the wash. He sat there till all the others had gone to bed, knowing his thoughts would keep him awake anyway.

~~~~~

A few days passed where Nikola and Gally did the last thing on earth they wanted to do and kept their distance most of the time. But when they did get a chance to interact they both made an effort to subtly assure the other that it wasn’t personal, that nothing had changed between them.

Nikola was sitting up in her house with various scraps of things arranged on her floor and was figuring out how to recycle them into something useful when Newt called up to her. She went out on her balcony and frowned when she saw his face.

“I need you to come with me,” he said apologetically. “It’s a gathering… of sorts.”

Her heart plummeted. She was shaking as she tried to go down her ladder and it made it difficult. She didn’t say anything as she walked with Newt, her mind racing with so many things at once and her stomach feeling twisted beyond untangling.

When she stepped inside she saw Alby, Gally, and Shawn. She narrowed her eyes slightly at the latter even though she was trying very hard not to give any of her emotions away. Gally didn’t seem happy with him either and Alby just looked completely impatient. Nikola just looked at him, not willing to say a word until she knew what was going on.

Alby reached out and handed her a piece of paper. “Did you write this?”

She looked at him doubtfully as she plucked the paper from his hand and then looked down to read it, immediately seeing it was not her handwriting before she took in what it said. “No, not my handwriting,” she said quickly and passed it back.

“Read it, will you?” Alby said as he pushed it back.

She sighed but complied.

“It’s time for me to wash my sheets, why don’t you come and help me get them real good and dirty first? It was so fun last time.”

She hid her disgust and tried to morph it into confusion instead. She looked at the boys standing around her. “What the shuck does that mean?” she asked Alby like it was Greek to her.

“Shawn says he saw you and Gally washing your sheets very late one night, and Gally wasn’t fully dressed. Said you seemed very… close,” Alby explained, glancing at Shawn who had clearly orchestrated this whole thing.

“And the first conclusion you jumped to was that we were screwing?” She asked Shawn directly, as flat as possible. “No wonder you faked a note, if that’s all you’ve got to support that theory.”

“She didn’t deny it,” Shawn pointed out smugly to Alby.

“Right, because I was up late one night, I was washing my sheets, and Gally was helping me,” She admitted easily. “That all happened because I started my period in the middle of the night and had to clean blood off myself, my clothes, and my sheets before the stains set.” Everyone but Gally looked uncomfortable as soon as she said period. “And before he tells you he saw me write this note to Gally, I did write Gally a different note about taking the spare scissors when I did the mending. I can get the med journal and show you an example of Shawn’s hand writing and my own if you want, but Newt also heard me talk to Gally about the scissors that day as well.”

Newt nodded to that and Alby threw an unhappy glare at Shawn’s now pale and unamused face. “I think we’re good here, you two can go,” He said to her and Gally, his gaze still fixed on Shawn.

Gally had fixed Shawn with a glare of his own and didn’t seem to be going anywhere, even as Nikola headed toward the door.

“Gally,” Newt said with a warning tone.

Gally let his arms uncross themselves slowly, eyes fixed on Shawn for as long as he could before walking away and following Nikola out the door.

She was out there squinting in the sun waiting for him.

“At least that was easy right?” she commented as they fell into step with each other. “I know that means it’ll only be worse the next time though. I’m sorry Gally-“

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” He blurted, some of his anger at Shawn coming out in his tone with her. He stopped in his tracks and took a deep breath to calm down, then looked up to see her anxious face staring up at him. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he repeated more softly, “And neither do I. He’s an idiot, and I don’t care what else he does, you’re my friend and I’m yours and I won’t allow any amount of childish jealousy to change that.”

His fists were clenched and his heart pounded in his ears. Nikola’s eyes were wide and he saw her swallow before she nodded vigorously.

“Yeah, absolutely,” she agreed. “Same here.”

Neither of them realized what it would take to keep that promise to each other.

Masterlist

@frequentlychangingfandoms @quackquackbi @poulterjonas @crazysheeplyca @pre-google @gladerscake @neilox @thesuitkovian @carp3d1em @cottoncandy-dreamxd @emilyhadenbaker

[xiaomoxu]

Lucien - Interlaced Date

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

A date from CN server which hasn’t been released on EN server yet. Might contains some spoiler.

🦋  Also from this date: Call

Story under the cuts~

At the beginning of the evening, the lights were on, and the stars were looming in the clouds.

I am standing at the door of a newly opened mall. Under the floating dome, there are many stacked square buildings, which makes people suddenly think that they have come to the art museum.

MC: It should be right here.

Not long ago, I saw a shopping mall integrated with art on the Internet. It cooperated with different artists to create various themed activities.

The theme this time is "interlacing".

I am very interested in this topic, so I decided to see it for myself

Following the signs, I walked into a dark rectangular room.

The center of the room was divided into two spaces by a matte glass. People who entered moved forward in a line, but they could not see the scene on the other side clearly.

Tourist A: The person on the other side can't see clearly, what does this room mean?

Tourist B: I can't understand, this may be art.

I followed their words and couldn't help but look across the glass...

The line of sight was full of fuzzy outlines, and I could only vaguely tell that the flow of people on the opposite side was passing in the opposite direction to us. I can't help but fall into thinking.

Is this design to highlight the "interlaced feeling"?

Until, a familiar figure on the other side suddenly pulled my thoughts back.

The vague outlines, however, stand out in a crowd of indistinct crowds.

It seems to be Lucien... why is he here?

Countless doubts poured into my heart, I couldn't help speeding up and approaching that figure.

Even though there is a crowd on the opposite side, his gestures are familiar.

He walked forward in the group methodically, but revealed a state of being free from the crowd.

It seems that only Lucien can give people this feeling.

With a faint answer in my heart, I raised my hand and waved at him.

He seemed to have noticed something too, he stopped and glanced in my direction.

Even through the glass, I can feel the indifferent gaze, as if I'm just an inconspicuous stranger.

I stopped, and my smile stiffened. Only that back figure continued to move forward, farther and farther away from me.

MC: ....Didn't he recognize me?

Tourist: Don't stop, keep going.

Some dissatisfied voices came from behind, and I nodded apologetically and walked forward.

The images that had just been interlaced kept playing repeatedly in my mind. I looked back a little unwillingly.

Even though the crowds were bustling, I found the back figure just now again.

Suddenly he stopped, turned and looked in my direction.

The glass reflected his fuzzy face, and I couldn't help but squint to see him more closely.

In the dimness, I seemed to see a soft arc rising from the indifferent face.

Is he... smiling at me?

I opened my lips slightly to say something, but was squeezed out of the room again by the person behind me.

My sight suddenly became bright, but I was a little dumbfounded.

??: What a coincidence, I can meet you here.

A familiar voice rang behind me, making me startled.

Lucien walked up to me and smiled lightly at me.

Lucien: You look surprised.

Lucien: Do you think I will not be here?

Looking at Lucien in front of me, I suddenly realized something was wrong.

The space just now was two reverse one-way streets, it was impossible for him to suddenly appear in front of me from the opposite exit.

MC: It's not that you won't show up. Because just now in that room, I saw a figure that looked like you.

MC: But if it is really you, it is impossible to appear here from the other exit so quickly.

Lucien looked at the exit behind me, as if lost in thought and lowered his eyes.

After a while, he raised his head with a smile in his eyes.

Lucien: I think you didn’t mistaken me as the other person.

Lucien: It is indeed me in that room, but what you see is not who I am now.

Listening to some circumstantial words, I couldn't help but frown.

MC: ... Not who you are now?

Lucien: Well, it was me fifteen minutes ago.

MC: You mean we were not in the same time and space just now. Could it be the influence of Evol?

I couldn't help straightening my back instinctively and quickly sweeping around.

The next second, a shadow was covered in the afterglow, Lucien leaned down and looked at me.

Lucien: Are you tired recently, Miss Nox?

Lucien: This is just an ordinary shopping mall, there is no work that Miss Nox has to deal with.

Seeing Lucien pretending to be serious, I smiled awkwardly.

MC: .... What does "you who were fifteen minutes ago" mean?

Lucien pointed to the stand that was less than two meters away from me at the exit.

Lucien: The room you just passed by is actually an artistic design

Lucien: The room is full of holographic projections, and the other side of the glass you see is a picture fifteen minutes ago.

Listening to Lucien's explanation, I looked at the art brief on the stand.

MC: So what we see is actually not what is actually happening right now.

MC: Let us mistakenly think that the barriers of glass cannot be overlapped, but in fact...

MC: Not only are we unable to intersect, we are not even in the same space and time.

Lucien: Probably this room wants to create a sense of interlacing time and space for us.

Lucien nodded in agreement, but different emotions flashed in his eyes.

Lucien: However, MC could recognize me through the matte glass, which made me feel very happy.

Lucien: It's a pity that I'm not so lucky, and I didn't see you on the other side of the glass.

Lucien spoke lightly, but knocked again and again in my heart.

The smile on his face inadvertently gradually overlaps with the memory of me just in the room.

When Lucien stood there, he seemed to smile like that.

What did he see fifteen minutes ago?

Doubts creeped into my heart, I couldn't help but speak.

MC: Lucien, I seemed to see you smiling in the room just now.

MC: Did you see something?

Lucien seemed to be taken aback, but soon returned to his expression.

Lucien: It's nothing.

Lucien: There are also many exhibit designs related to themes. Would you like to go to other areas with me?

Seeing that he didn't want to start the topic, I had no choice but to agree.

Lucien and I walked side by side in the shopping mall. Except for the rooms just now, the atriums on each floor of the building have different designs.

Paintings, photographs, sculptures, and installations of different carriers all unify the interplay of time and space, emotions, and life.

I looked at Lucien, who was quiet beside me, and couldn't help approaching him.

MC: By the way, why did you come here?

Lucien: I am here to be entrusted by a person to give some non-professional advice as a viewer.

Lucien: What about you?

MC: I'm very interested in this "interlaced" theme, so I came to have a look.

Lucien nodded thoughtfully, and none of us spoke for a while, just moved forward quietly.

The crowd passed by our side, heading in the same or opposite direction as us.

Probably because of the countless designs that express "missing" just now, I can't help feeling a little about such a simple and ordinary picture.

MC: Lucien, what are you trying to convey when designing such a theme?

Lucien's gaze was mixed with a bit of unsure emotion, and after my voice fell, he cast it slightly.

Lucien: I think it is probably "missing is inevitable."

Lucien: Whether in invisible or visible places, we will miss many people and many things.

Lucien: But people's lives will not stay for this reason, it will only continue to move forward.

Lucien's voice was so calm, it gently penetrated into my ears, and the memory of me just now confided again.

The fuzzy face reflected in the glass, the stagger of strangers, and Lucien after fifteen minutes of time and space.

He is clearly in front of me, but I am not in front of him.

And when I thought he was in front of me, he was actually that far away.

MC: But no one wants to miss out with those who are important to them.

MC: Even if there is only the slightest possibility, I would like to keep overlapping with this trajectory.

Countless images flashed in my eyes, and finally they all converged on Lucien's face in front of me. He didn't seem to expect me to say something like this, he looked at me deeply.

Lucien: In the room where space-time interlaced just now, when we "miss", did you think the same way?

MC: Of course!

I spoke subconsciously. After seeing his narrow vision, I suddenly realized what I had just said, and my ears instantly burned.

MC: No, no! I didn't know the installation in this room at the time.

MC: So when you passed by and didn't recognize me, made me feel a little weird.

Immediately afterwards, Lucien's smile became full again, and he moved closer to me.

Lucien: Oh? Is it weird because you think I won't recognize you?

Looking at the teasing smile in his eyes, I understood at once that he was secretly "teasing" again.

I lifted my chin slightly and fought back without a trace.

MC: Well, if it is just an ordinary room, and there is also a thick glass of glass between us...

MC: Will Professor Lucien recognize me like I recognize you?

Suddenly, Lucien couldn't even hide the smile at the corner of his mouth.

Lucien: I will not make judgments lightly on things that have not actually happened.

MC: ..... Professor Lucien has always been very rigorous.

We walked forward slowly, unknowingly, the two branch roads in front stopped us.

Lucien: However, this theme is relatively tender compared to others.

MC: Tender?

Lucien: "Interlacing" proves that there will be intersections, not "parallel".

Lucien: So that I can meet you here.

Lucien's faint words caused ripples in my heart.

Bits and pieces of the past between me and Lucien came to mind, indeed like what he said.

Although there have been misunderstandings or regrets between us, those moments that seem to be disappointing also represent...

We have intersections with each other.

I looked at a sign in the middle of the fork--

"It is recommended that people with more than two people walk separately and experience the interlaced theme for better experience."

After seeing the explanation on the sign, I couldn't help looking at Lucien beside me.

Lucien: It seems that "interlacing" is not over yet.

Lucien: What will you choose next, MC?

He looked calmly at the bifurcation, as if he had an idea in his mind.

MC: My answer...Professor Lucien should have known it earlier than me, right?

I looked at Lucien deeply, then we smiled at each other and walked in two directions respectively.

I did not look back, and walked firmly on the path I chose.

Because I believe that no matter which direction we go, we will meet eventually.

I can't remember how many turns or steps I took. It seems that this road is far longer than I thought.

I passed by countless strangers, but I never saw Lucien's figure.

Until I crossed a bend, my vision suddenly became clear.

Looking around, I seem to be standing in the middle of the outer courtyard of a shopping mall, and in front of me there is an open-air double escalator that looks nearly a hundred meters long.

The people standing on both sides of the escalator looked at each other, and different emotions flashed in each person's eyes.

Excitement, perseverance, indifference, and loss, all kinds of emotions bloom one after another on this long escalator.

Just as I looked down along the flow of people, a familiar figure made my heart tighten again.

Lucien stood at the bottom escalator entrance, seeming to be looking at me.

I waved my hand subconsciously, and he also raised his hand leisurely in response to me.

Looking at Lucien, who was 100 meters away from me, I suddenly understood that this escalator is also echoing the theme of "interlacing".

Once people choose a direction, they may have to watch the opposite person go against them.

But I don't want to continue staggering, I want to change.

So I immediately made a gesture to Lucien and told him not to move.

I waved my hands indiscriminately and walked quickly towards the descending escalator.

But when I just stepped up the stairs, Lucien also stepped up the elevator.

I put down my hands in a bit of astonishment, and watched us slowly approaching from a distance.

Suddenly, my phone rang--

It was Lucien's call, I quickly answered it.

MC: Didn't I tell you to stand still...

Lucien: Sorry.

Lucien: Because your gesture are really hard to guess, so I wanted to go up and find you first.

There was a soft voice on the phone, and my rushing voice gradually calmed down.

MC: Then you call...

Lucien: This elevator seems to take some time. Why don't you just chat with me for a bit?

Lucien: I don't want to miss this "blank" time with you.

The originally dull atmosphere became brisk in his slightly teasing tone.

I couldn't help laughing softly, and quickly fell into his new topic.

The billboards on both sides slowly passed behind me, and the distance between me and Lucien became closer and closer.

His face gradually became clear, and the smile in his eyes gradually bloomed.

The evening breeze gently brushed his hair, and the moonlight seemed to stay on his body and no longer walk away.

But I also realized that the moment we met each other also meant the beginning of separation.

Facing this encounter destined to be far away, I was helpless. Can only stand in place, watching us slowly arrive in front of each other.

Lucien didn't say anything, only the sound of his steady breathing was left in my ears.

At the moment when our figures were side by side, he just looked at me with a smile, and in this second, passed me by.

Lucien: MC, do you still want to know why I smiled in that room?

I turned my head and met Lucien's gaze in surprise, his eyes glowing with a soft stream.

MC: Wait, I thought you wouldn't tell me the answer.

Lucien: I thought it wasn't something important, but now I think about it, it seems I was wrong.

Lucien suddenly paused, took a deep look at me before continuing to speak.

Lucien: In that room, I didn't see anything special, only countless strange faces.

Lucien: But... I suddenly thought of you.

As soon as the voice fell, my heart couldn't help but miss a beat.

I looked at Lucien, who was already driving behind me, and my gaze was firmly locked on his gaze.

MC: Why....

Lucien: I think of such an interesting place, you should come too.

Lucien: Maybe I can see you here next time.

His figure is getting farther and farther away from me, and it seems that he will soon be overwhelmed by the flow of people behind him.

MC: Lucien, you said that if an encounter is destined to be parting, will the encounter still make sense?

Although it was only an experiment, my heart was dull, and I opened my mouth as I watched Lucien's figure gradually distancing.

Lucien: MC, do you know what will happen to us after we are interlaced?

In the blink of an eye, Lucien's figure was completely covered by the crowd, and only the faint voice of questions stayed beside his ears.

MC: I know.

I took a deep breath and hung up the phone. After a long few minutes, I finally got off the escalator.

I wandered at the elevator entrance, worried that once I got on the elevator, Lucien would choose to get off the elevator and let us miss it again.

I don't know what the answer this world will give to the question that Lucien just asked.

But I have my own answer.

I want to take the initiative to meet him again. No matter how many times we missed, I will want to meet him next time.

This idea suddenly came to my heart, but it gradually became firm.

I strode into the crowd, shuttled back and forth among countless strange figures.

I am not worried that I will miss Lucien, because I firmly believe that I can see him in the crowd.

As time passed by, the stars in the night sky seemed to become more and more brilliant.

Suddenly, at the end of the crowd, I saw the person I wanted to see most at the moment.

And he seemed to see me too and stopped.

My heart beats like a drum, and every beat prompts me to speed up my steps.

It seems that all the passersby around have become phantoms, but he is the only one who becomes clearer in my world.

MC: Lucien!

Lucien: MC, it seems that we have met again.

Lucien: This is my answer.

Suddenly Lucien smiled crookedly at the corner of his eyes. He looked at me and continued to speak.

Lucien: Separation will not be doomed, it is just a choice.

Lucien: I think, even after countless brushes, I will also choose to appear in front of you again.

The night wind gently blew his hair, revealing those deep eyes that reflected me alone.

Lucien: MC.

Lucien: I have always looked forward to every encounter with you.

--

Notes from me:  To whoever's write Lucien’s date, I give all my respect to you. All of you. Thank you. Sincerely, Me.

[dangerouslcve]

Hey , can you pleas do a tom felton one , that we are super populair and we have many fans and we are toms crush , somthing with an interview with Ellen DeGeneres and Jimmy Fallon , Youre stories are amazing

- - -

Pairing: Tom Felton x female reader

Warnings: none

A/n: Awe, you are so sweet. Thank you for the interesting request. :)

- - -

“Oh sweet, I’m derek.” the man introduces himself once you get inside of the building away from the large crowds of screaming fans. You could feel your lips pulling into a smile before you shake the Derek’s extended hand.

“I’m Y/n.” you tell him before pulling away as you are ushered into the main lobby. You caught the look on Derek’s face before you had to leave, it was a look of both amusement and shock. You wondered if it he was a fan as well but then again he did look like he was enjoying a private joke with myself.

 “Welcome back!” Jimmy says exiting his office with a smile on his face. You grin walking over to him, Graham standing behind you constantly glancing behind him making sure everything was okay. “I love the gold pendant on the side.” he compliments and you chuckle hugging him quickly.

 “Thank you,” you smile before turning back to Graham watching him shove his hands in the pocket of his pants. “The others will come in when the show is done, you can wait with them.” you tell him politely and he nods turning on his heel disappearing around the corner. Graham had been your friend and body guard since you were sixteen, he was a father figure and your protector. Relaxing with him and his family was always a time well spent. You turn back to Jimmy watching him fix his tie. “So what is the plan? When do I come out and surprise him?”

“I don’t want it to look suspicious, I will talk with him about his new show and casually bring you up,” Jimmy explains and you nod hanging onto every word your head swimming with thoughts of how you would act meeting an actor who was a very big fan of your work. “Then I will bring you out.”

 “Okay, Is he here?” you place your hand on the handle that led into your dressing room which you were sure was swimming with people ready to make you look like the dictionary definition of perfection. Jimmy nods quickly before a notification ding comes through and he looks down at his phone.

“Right on time,” you heard the screams of fans before they faded out again and a giggle from down the hall before it came closer. You opened the door to your dressing room closing the door quickly just in time to hear Jimmy welcome the new actor. You glance up noticing Sarah your makeup artist staring at you with a quirked eyebrow. As she began to say your name you shush her before hearing Jimmy and the actors voice fade away.

“Sorry darling, I forgot you were here to surprise him.” she is quick to apologize and you laugh waving her off as you take a seat on the couch. “How was your weekend?”

“Stressful, I had a script reading with Natalia for our new movie.” you tell her rubbing the back of your neck still trying to calm your nerves from the crowds outside.

 “Isn’t that how you found out about Tom? From Natalia?” she questions setting her things down on the counter. You nod with a smile.

“You mean the Tom who apparently has a crush on me?” you question trying to keep the amusement out of your voice. Her eyebrows shoot up and her mouth falls open. 

 “You kidding?” A knock on the door silenced you both.

“Twenty minutes Y/n.” a man says and you feel your heart begin to pick up its pace as you glance at Sarah who was trying to comprehend what you had just told her.

 “I think you would be a cute couple.” she finally says and you laugh laying your head gently against the chair minding your now styled hair.

----

 Standing to the side of the curtain out of view of the crowd and Tom was surprisingly more nerve racking than meeting fans and going to premieres. You didn’t know whether he would adore your personality or hate it and that was what took you back to your first premiere nerves.

 “So you know Y/n?” you heard Jimmy say and the audience whooped making you chuckle turning away to face the crew backstage managing the microphones. You hear him laugh nervously.

“Well yes but no. She is an amazing actress.” you flush at the comment looking down at the heels you were wearing as you turn to face the band giving you knowing looks.

 “She is, I also heard you had a crush on her at one point.” the audience began laughing as Tom let out a breath.

 “Yes, It’s actually quite embarrassing really, when I was on the set of origin the wonderful and talented Natalia Tena-” the crowd cut him off with screams of excitement at the mention of her name. No doubt fans of hers because of Tonks. He laughs. “- She mentioned Y/n while filming because she was going to be on set with her in a matter of months. I only saw her in the films I had watched so I knew who she was right away when Nat mentioned her.” he explains and you hear Jimmy hum under his breath.

“Have you two ever met up while Natalia was filming?”

“No, never. I’m hoping one day to sit down with her and have a lovely chat.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, she seems lovely.”

“Well today is your lucky day. Everyone give a big round of applause for Y/n L/n!!!” Jimmy taps his desk multiple times as you walk out feeling your heart pounding against your rib cage as people clap and cheer for you. You keep your gaze on them smiling excitedly as you wave at them before you look over at Tom who was standing from his seat clapping before he quickly jogged over to you holding out his hand to help you up the steps.

“Thank you,” you smile taking his hand staring up at him. He had his hair pulled back into a hair tie, some strands escaped his hair tie and he had them tucked behind his ear. His smile was contagious, you were beaming by the time you placed your hand in his. He wore tan pants that were rolled up his ankles, his palm tree ankle tat now display, a beautifully designed purple button up sweatshirt that covered a blue what looked like another designed shirt that was opened at the top exposing his chest if he moved in the right angle. To top it all off he wore a pair of pale pink shoes with small little dragons on the side.

 “You look wonderful.” he says and you squeeze his hand as you make your way up the two steps before letting go and greeting Jimmy again with a smile. Tom sits back down in his original seat as you take a seat next to him.

“Welcome back to the show Y/n.” Jimmy laughs as you cross your legs looking at the seat Tom is sitting in teasingly. “You alright?”

 “I’m fine!” you say in a pitch higher than your normal voice. “I like being...All the way over here.” you say looking away frowning. Jimmy laughs as Tom looks over at you concerned.

“Would you like to switch?” he questions and you laugh shaking your head meeting his concerned gaze. 

 “The show isn’t called Y/n.” Jimmy says and you and the crowd laugh.

“You really set me up for failure to not look cool at all Jimmy.” Tom says glancing over at you and you smile tapping his leg with the palm of your hand. Jimmy laughs before reaching under his desk.

“You were a gentlemen though, very sweet.” you tell him with an excited smile. Seeing him brought back the times when you sat in the living room binging Harry Potter. “Nothing like how I would imagine you to be.”

 “I hope that’s good.” he chuckles and you nod.

“We are going to play a game called my celebrity crushes through the years.”

_____

  You couldn’t help but laugh as you make your way back to your dressing room remembering the events that had played out during the game. It was the most fun you have had on the show but you didn’t miss the small glances from Tom.

 Graham walks up to you with a man behind him. The man that you saw when you first walked in.

 “Y/n, someone by the name of Derek is here to see you.” Graham says eyeing your expression carefully and you feel your lips tug into a smile watching your guard step out of the way.

“Hello Derek. What do I owe the pleasure?”

“Tom is my best friend and if I know him well -which I do-  he can be a bit much when he likes someone. I love him, I do but I’m sure as you saw with him on the show, he’s a person who loves to make cheeky comments and likes to be touchy-feely.” Derek explains before he exhales glancing over his shoulder. “He likes you, like really likes you. I don’t think I have ever saw him so happy when you were with him but that does come with many you may see as cons-”

“- Derek -”

“ - But he truly is one of the most loving guys, All i’m saying is just be careful because you could be one of those girls who like to take things slow and I don’t want him to offend you because sometimes he thinks with his -”

“- Derek!” you laugh in shock and he shrugs apologetically with a grin. “I don’t know what vibe I gave off but I am a big girl and can take care of myself. If I did want to sleep with Tom, I certainly wouldn’t mind the cheeky comments -”

“ - So you are saying he has a chance then?” 

“I’m terminating this conversation. If I do sleep with Tom anyways I’m sure you will the first to know.” you say turning to Graham who was hiding his smile. You wanted to slap his arm.

 “Listen, I will ask you this because I know he never will. Tom has an origin premiere tonight and still has his plus one available. You know Natalia and I am sure she will love to see you again.”

“If it’s so important why don’t you go?” you raise an eyebrow hearing Graham shift beside you when a steel door opens.

“Because I have decorating to do with my new flat.” Derek says crossing his arms and Graham snorts beside you making the man standing in front of you smirk.

“Right, stop trying to play cupid Derek.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Did it ever occur to you I could be dating someone and you are trying to set me up with your friend?”

“Your dating someone?”

“No.”

“Then why-”

“Because you, Derek, had not even asked me if I was single and if I was interested in your friend. That’s a good way to get yourself yelled at.”

“Okay.” he says standing up straight fixing his hat. “Are you single?”

“Yes.”

“Are you interested in Tom?” you swallow hard at the question before chuckling.

“Hard question. I will get back to you in five to seven business days.” you say trying to calm your heart that was now hammering against your rib cage. You try to laugh it off but the question was now stuck in your head.

‘Are you interested in Tom?’

 Were you interested? yes, very much so but it wasn’t that simple.

“It’s a simple yes or no. If you are interested in him then go to the premiere if you aren’t then tell it to him straight don’t give him false hopes and lead him on. Someone has already done that to him and he ended up heart broken I don’t want to see him like that again surely you can understand that?” Just as you were about to answer that very familiar laugh made you spin on your heel Graham standing at your side his shoulders squared back and his jaw set.

 “Y/n, your still here?” Tom smiles his purple sweatshirt resting on his arm his button up shirt on full display, a few more buttons were popped exposing his sunkissed chest underneath the multi colored shirt. You felt your mouth dry as you finally meet his gaze, he was smiling excitedly.

“I was talking with your friend Derek. He speaks highly of you.” his gaze snaps to his friends over your shoulder and his eyes narrow as if he was silently conveying a message. “I heard you have a premiere tonight.” you say suddenly feeling very shy.

“Yes, it’s just a silly little thing.” he laughs and you feel your heart pounding against your rib cage as you wet your lips with your tongue. “Would you... Like to tag along?”

“Yeah, I would love to.” He smirks extending his hand and you place yours in it hesitantly.

What a night this was going to be.

[mooswords]

More than enough

Pairing: semi eita x reader

Word count: 3.4k

Tags: musican au, fluff + soft-angst? its a happy ending i promise

Ramblings: this was going to be something short based around the masterpiece that is sk8er boi but it very quickly got out of hand rip ✌️

---

"You're just not what we were looking for."

"I understand, thank you for your time."

--

"I'm sorry, but I don't think you'd fit in with us."

"I understand, thank you for your time."

--

"You're obviously talented, we're just not looking for an artist like you right now."

"I understand, thank you for your time."

--

“Look, you don’t quite fit our brand.”

The worst part is that rejection doesn’t even sting anymore. It's always the same story - they love his music, but not him. 

Semi has never been one to shape himself to the expectations of others. He had refused to march in time at Shiratorizawa and it cost him his place in the starting line up. But he had thought, maybe somewhat naively, that with his music he could be both someone he was proud of and someone they’d want to hire. 

Apparently not.

“I understand, thank-”

“Um… I think he’d be a great fit.”

Your voice is firm but you're obviously nervous, barely able to meet the eye of the producer as she swings around to you, unimpressed. 

"I just…" you wet your lips, try again, "He's something different, and that's really cool. Of course, there'd have to be some changes but-" you dart a look at him- "maybe we should give him a chance."

"Oh, is that so?" your boss scoffs. "You want me to sign him because you think that he maybe deserves a chance?"

Semi takes a proper look at you - shaking hands clutched around the tablet in your lap, earnestness written all over your face - perhaps the first person in this unforgiving industry to show any sort of support for him. Not exactly the influential executive he'd been hoping for, but hey, it's nice to be acknowledged once in a while.

You suck in a breath, your posture straightening. "I know he's good enough. It would be our loss to turn him away." 

And Semi is flattered. Honestly, he is. But this is a well-trodden path for him, and right now, he'd rather leave this too-clean office, get back into his beat-up car that still smells like the soft drink Tendou spilt last week and just go home. Feel sorry for himself before facing the arduous process of picking up the scattered pieces of his pride yet again.

The producer shakes her head. “You know the types of artists the label is looking for, and it's not him."

"But he could be! Please, I-” you stand abruptly. “I‘ll take full responsibility. Give me… a month. I’ll put together a demo and figure out a brand for him. I can make this work, and we both know he’s got real talent."

Semi is flicking between the two of you. He's not quite sure if he's on board with what's happening, but the producer looks like she's actually considering it, and this is the first time he's had any sort of a chance.

"OK,” she relents. “ OK, I will give you a month.” 

His eyes dart to yours because, to be honest, he didn’t think- 

“But.” The producer eyes him, then you. “If he is not good enough in a month, both of you are out of here. Got it?"

You share a look, a mutual recognition of how much is riding on this.

"Got it." 

--

You properly introduce yourself the next morning in one of the spacious studios, passing him a takeaway cup of coffee and a to-do list that stretches on forever.

"So, you're going to need to write a song - obviously,” you start briskly. “But first, I need to know what size clothes you wear, what instruments you play and if you can dance. You're also going to need to stop cutting your hair. I can-"

"Sorry, you want me to what?"

"Stop cutting your hair, keep up."

"What's wrong with my hair!?"

Your eyes lazily flick over him. He hopes he hasn't gone as red as he feels. "It’s fine, it’s just going to look better when it’s longer." 

"How do you know what I’ll look like with long hair?" Semi splutters. 

You grin at him from under your lashes, a new relaxed confidence to your moves today. "It's my job. Anyway, back to the important things-"

By the time said important things have been covered, Semi's head is a jumbled mess. He desperately needs more caffeine. You go to continue, but one look at him has you pulling an apologetic face. 

"I know it seems like a lot, but you're going to do great. Is there anything you wanted me to clarify? Before we keep going?”

A million questions are ricocheting around his head, but the one that slips out is "Why are you helping me?"

Your gaze drops. “To be honest, it’s as much for you as it is for me.” Looking a touch embarrassed, you shrug. “This could be the break I need to finally move on from just being an assistant. But your music is good. Really good, and... look, you aren’t an artist the label would normally sign, but you have this… energy I think the world will love, and I wanted to be a part of that I guess.”

There’s resolve in your eyes, even as your fingers twist together. You exude a brand of hopeful passion; a joy that dulled for him long ago, a sacrifice that had to be made just so he could survive the setbacks. He hadn't dared let himself hope that this strange opportunity could lead anywhere, but maybe the two of you could make this work.

“Well, when you say it like that…” Semi grins when you meet his gaze. He can already feel the excitement building again in his chest. He’s missed it, he thinks wistfully. 

“Let’s do this.”

--

A month has never felt shorter, and he's not sure if either of you slept more than a few hours at once. He has learnt a lot though - how to use the enormous mixing board in the studio, that he apparently looks very good in red, the value of networking and connections in this fickle industry.

(He’d also learnt how you look curled up on his sofa, about your deep-set fondness for fantasy movies and the way you hum to yourself when you’re deep in thought, but he’s trying not to think about that.)

The producer is quiet, her head nodding along softly to the beat filtering through the headphones. She’s leafing through the outlines and photos the two of you had poured your everything into. Those few pages have to be enough. You had said he was good enough and he desperately needs you to be right, because if you aren’t-

“I’m impressed.” Your boss’ voice is begrudging as she pulls the headphones from her ears, “This is better than I was expecting.” 

Maybe he's enough. 

He's fighting the urge to grab your hand because you look like you're going to faint, and he might not be far behind you.

"Thank you." 

Your voice is shaky, hopeful.

Maybe-

“But it’s not enough.”

It's gut-wrenching. It hasn’t stung like this in so long the pain is almost foreign; this feeling of rejection, this weight in his stomach pulling him back down to square one. And as the abject confusion on your face gives way to incredulous anger, he thinks maybe the worst part is that it’s not just him being rejected this time.

“What do you mean it’s not enough? We-”

“-are not good enough,” the producer cuts in, matter-of-fact and unruffled. “For a month’s worth of work, it isn’t bad. It’s just that I’m still not convinced that he can be everything you say he is.”

Semi grabs at your arm as you lunge forward. He sends you a sad smile when you spin to face him. “It’s ok. I always knew this wa-”

"No.” Your eyes are ablaze. He can remember that feeling - back when rejection felt like sheer fury and not a resigned numbness. “No, that song- you are good and we all know it. You deserve a place here, she-” you jab a finger at the woman still seated behind the desk, “just can’t see your worth.”

Warmth curls around his heart. He’s going to miss your spitfire passion. “Seriously, it’s OK. Thank you though. For believing in me."

He faces the producer. “I… I hope you would consider keeping your assistant on.” He can hear your head snap towards him, “You said you were impressed with her work, and I saw more than anyone how much effort she put into this. She deserves recognition for it... yeah. Thank you for your time.”

He moves for the door, trying not to think about how empty his apartment will be without your papers and coffee cups strewn about. There is a small consolation in that you might get something from all this, but still. He'd really thought that-

“I quit.” 

"What?" Both Semi and the producer whirl to look at you. 

You blink up at your former boss. “I quit.” It’s firmer this time, but your hand trembles as you tug on his arm. “C'mon Semi, let's go.”

"Wha- no!" He splutters, even as you march out towards the elevators. He pulls you into a hallway, stares down at you in confusion and horror. 

"This is your chance! Why would you… don't just throw it away like this. Not for me."

You look dazed. "I’m done. I’ve worked here for years now, and let's be real, I was never going to get anywhere with her anyway. Besides,” you grin up at him. There’s no trace of regret on your face, and the gleam in your eye has the beginnings of a new melody itching at the back of his mind. “We are going to prove her wrong. You are more than enough Semi Eita.”

You pull away from him, gleefully calling race you to the elevator! over your shoulder. He gives chase, purposely bumping into you, laughing as you slide over the polished floor. And looking at your flushed face and breathless smile as the elevator doors close, he thinks maybe square one might not be so bad with you down here next to him.

--

"We aren't looking to take on an artist like you right now."

He writes more songs. You write more emails.

--

The lights are dim in the small, dingy studio, and honestly, it feels like the two of you have been here forever. You're trying to remember if that coffee place down the road still does 24-hour delivery as Semi groans from under the arm flung over his face, legs heavy across your lap. You poke him in the stomach and he peers out at you, pouting.

“Hey have some respect please, I’m moping.”

“Oh, terribly sorry, I couldn’t tell from the whining and general lack of writing.”

He pokes his tongue out and pulls a face at you. “Shuddup, writing songs is hard.”

“Mmm, not like it’s your job or anything.” 

His pout intensifies and you force yourself to suppress the smile threatening the corners of your mouth, ducking as he throws the pen hanging loosely from his hand at you. 

“You’re the worst.” 

You allow yourself to grin at him this time. “Maybe, but we only paid to have this studio for another" you check your phone, "three hours and then we’re going to get kicked out, so you need to come up with something."

He finally lifts his head, and it really should be illegal - this deadly combination of finger-raked hair, bleary eyes and rumpled shirt. You poke him in the stomach again.

“Fine! Fine, gimme my pen back.” You scrabble around for it and strictly don’t think about the warmth of his fingers over yours as he takes it. Pulling his legs off your lap, he theatrically flicks to a page in his notebook resting on the battered table and begins writing.

“My manager… sucks…” 

“Hey!”

“Because… she is… really... mean...”

“Noooo, give me that!” You lunge for the notebook, but he pulls it out of reach and smirks down at you.

“Oh, so now you’re interested in helping me write this song? I see how it is.”

It’s your turn to pout, still flailing for the notebook until you meet his eyes and oh he’s really close. There’s a fleeting moment where neither of you does anything, frozen. You swallow, watching his eyes dart down. You've been here before - not here exactly, but here, in these moments of breathless potential. 

(And maybe you're a coward for not doing anything because there have always been hints, little notations he leaves scattered across the score of your partnership. You've always been the second line, the bass to his treble, but a duet only works when both lines move together - you don't want to be the one who falls out of beat.) 

You pull yourself away, moving to clear away the takeout containers and throw what you hope is an unaffected smile over your shoulder. 

“Come on Semi, it’s just one more song. You got this. You always write about things that mean a lot to you. Just… think of that one thing you really want to share with the world.”

He chuckles, a breathy thing that curls around the room.

“Trying to get me to spill all my secrets, huh?”

You commit this image of him to memory - the fondness in his eyes, here in this tiny studio at who knows what hour of the morning.

"Something like that."

--

“You just aren’t right for us.”

He buys the coffee this time. You promise to pay next time.

--

He walks into the third record label this week. You wait hopefully outside. 

It's always the same result, but you still wait for him every time. And every time he shakes his head your heart breaks a little more, another rejection to add to the pile. But he's always been a fighter, and you were never a quitter. So every time, you pull each other off the ground, dust yourself off and try again. 

It's drizzly outside today. You wait, standing under the meagre protection of an umbrella.

He walks out and you brace for the inevitable fall. 

But when he looks up your heart skips a beat because he's smiling, and you're half disbelieving when he nods and then you're flying into the rain and throwing yourself into his arms as he laughs.

(And you can't meld words and melodies the way he can, but you think you could write songs about that sound forever.)

"You did it!" you squeal, and his grin is pure joy as he spins you in a circle.

"No, we did it." 

--

You're always backstage before a concert, so the looks you've been getting all afternoon from the crew are odd. You have half a mind to ask Semi about it, but in the mayhem of a lost guitar and last-minute phone calls, the only time you see him is just before he runs onto stage. 

Slipping your arms around him, you squeeze what encouragement you can into the brief hug. He considers you with that half-smile you have come to adore so much before he swoops down, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You catch his make sure you listen to the last song over the noise of the crowd before he dashes off. 

Maybe he… no, don’t be ridiculous. You scoff at the fantasy, try to push away the hope building in your chest. 

Why were you nervous? You weren’t even on stage. Yet your heart is insisting on recounting every cheesy movie you've ever seen, and it doesn’t help that you watched one with him last night, and it really doesn’t help that all you can think about is how you woke up this morning with the weight of his head on your shoulder.

Your head and heart battle the entire show, fear and anticipation blurring together in-

"Alright! I have a bit of a surprise for everyone tonight." Semi grins, sharp and full of adrenalin. The crowd screams. You barely manage to pull the drumming of your heart back into line. 

"This is a new song I wrote at… some ridiculous hour of the morning. I was told to write about the thing I most wanted to tell the world and I, uhh… well, it's for someone special, but I wanted to share it with you guys too."

He starts to play, but the opening chords are… new?

Semi has a habit of lounging in your office in the late afternoon, feeling out harmonies and half-realized lyrics as you work. You often hear strains of those afternoon experiments appear months later in his albums, but these chords are different. There's a major progression mixed in with the bass line that isn't quite his usual style; a little sweeter perhaps. And then he starts to sing, voice husky from the long show. The lyrics are quintessential Semi - simple, nothing incredibly poetic, but nonetheless heartfelt and genuine. 

It takes until the end of the second chorus for you to let yourself believe what he's saying. 

You hadn't heard Semi sing a love song quite like this before, and it is doing funny things to your chest. Because you can hear the smile in his tone, and he's singing about late nights and spinning in the rain and fantasy movies and... maybe this song is for you. Maybe you hadn't read the music wrong, maybe he-

You cut that thought off. Pressing your lips together, you force yourself to slip away as the final note is overtaken by yells and applause. 

(You may have been bold enough to stake your entire career on a maybe, but him? You can't risk losing him to a maybe.)

--

He finds you in the goldilocks studio. You had dubbed it that not long after he had signed with the new label - not too big, not too small. He had rolled his eyes when you first suggested it, but the name had stuck.

"I thought you might be in here."

"Oh, hey." You force yourself to meet his eye. "Nice job tonight. I’ve never heard a crowd so vocal."

He still looks every part the performer - hair wild beyond belief, stage make-up smudged - and technically, you're still on the clock. But right now, here in the soft haze of the studio lights, he’s just a boy and you're just a girl.

He chuckles, "Yeah, I’m glad they liked the new song, though…” he trails off, “I really only care about one person’s opinion of that song.”

There's hopeful apprehension in every line of his body.

"Semi…"

You brace for the fall.

"Semi, who was… was that song for me?”

“I didn't think I could make it any more obvious," he huffs, hand tucked up behind his neck. “I mean if you didn't like it that's fine. I just couldn't think of a good way to tell you, but that night when you said to write about what I wanted to say it… all came out I guess. And you don’t have to-”

You kiss him. It’s quick, barely a few seconds before you pull away. You’re perhaps just as surprised as he is, wide-eyed and flustered. 

His face breaks into a disbelieving smile. "Yeah?"

Your lips quirk up of their own accord. “Yeah.”

He stares for a beat before reaching for you, one hand coming up to cup your cheek. You meet him in the middle and slip your arms around his neck, feeling his smile widen when he kisses you, feeling your heart skip a beat and fall into rhythm with his.

“I do have… one question though…” he asks, hushed as he pulls back. 

“Mmm?” you hum, distracted with his nose still brushing yours.

“How did you not realise the song is about you? I mean-” gleeful mischief fills his voice and you groan, flopping backwards out of his arms, "-come on, I basically said everything but your name."

"I didn't want to assume, OK?" you whine, pulling yourself back up to face him. The glare you send him lacks heat, and he just chuckles, shifting closer again.

“I’ll make it clearer for you in the next one then.”

“The next one huh?” The playful fondness in your tone overwhelms him. He can feel the pink flush across his cheeks, warmer than any rush the stage could give him.

“Yeah, I mean… I’ve already got more songs about you, but I think I might have some new inspiration now.”

“Oh, is that so?” you question, smile somehow widening.

Lyrics are easy, real words are harder. He doesn’t know how to explain that his brain has been writing stanzas about you since you met, but he can’t quite pinpoint when his heart took over.

He settles on “yep” and kisses you again. 

It's unhurried, unconcerned. There's no more maybes, no more doubts. It's just you, and him, and the grounding certainty the two of you are more than enough.

[bruh-haikyuu]

A/N: Timeskip Lev make me go BARK BARK BARK WOOF WOOF AAARF ARF. P.S: For double the experience, read while listening to this

diapason. | haiba lev

summary: in which lev meets you again and you develop some sort of warm reconnection with your past underclassman. (Continuation of this fic)

word count: 4402

warnings: manga spoilers!!

(n.) a full, rich outpouring of melodious sound

Vienna, Austria. January 2022.

The Danube Canal in mid-winter reminds you of a lot of things:

The Shakujii River flanked with its timeless parade of cherry blossom trees. Christmas celebrations spent at home with your family, popping bottles of soda and whining about misshapen gifts. Your piano recitals played in utter devotion, like the winter would never end.

You’re a long, long way away from home, and you start to hope if anyone is missing you. If there’s a hole in your figure carved into someone’s heart back in Japan or some place in the other side of the world—

What am I thinking... you sigh, bashfully urging yourself to keep on walking.

Nestling deeper into the warmth of your wool scarf, you wonder if it’s the cold ambience of the night that’s making you feel all sappy. Twinkling lights, murmured chatter from late-night cafés, the occasional gust of wind against your cheeks. You never thought you’d get so nostalgic on your “vacation”, but perhaps you’re just like any other hopeless romantic.

“Come to Vienna! A whirlwind of budding love!”

You’d read that advertisement in one of the catalogues your symphony’s personnel manager had excitedly dumped into your lap the day she announced your personal invitation to spectate the Vienna Philharmonic live a few weeks ago. You didn’t think much of the slogan, but even so... you have to admit you’re a tad bit lonely, aren’t you?

You can barely remember a moment where you didn’t feel lonely. You had your family at home, but you’d considered it your fault for being such a shut-in for the most part of your life. The neighborhood kids weren’t exactly the nicest people. And school life hadn’t been much of an improvement either.

Of course, until him.

A colossal first year stumbling into the desolate Orchestra Club room, with a mouth just as big as his stature. Haiba Lev who had been anxiously lost that day you’d met. With such little sense of direction, you can’t help but laugh at how much times he’d managed to find you in that maze of your high school.

He’d find you, talk to you, laugh with you. And you’d never felt all the rushing feelings you’d felt when you were with this dewy-eyed boy. He was the perfect image of confidence—radiant, ambitious and all the more charming.

If only you can thank him. Your hero of sorts. Haiba Lev who poured into you all the faith he had so you could move forward—

“A-ah, excuse me?”

Whipping your head into the direction of the choppy English, a seething blush rises onto your cheeks when you zero in to the large camera lens pointed right at you.

The bearded man speaks again. “Eh... you’re Japanese, aren’t you? Sorry, but we’re having a photoshoot right now, and you’re in the way of our model. Could you maybe...”

Oh dear, you frazzle. Prostrating yourself incessantly at the camera crew, you blunder. “I’m v-very sorry! Waah, I must’ve ruined your picture!”

“It’s fine,” the man smiles kindly. “Things like this often happen anyway. Ain’t that right, Hafu-sama?”

The lean figure behind you laughs, and for a second, you feel your chest flutter in your throat when you hear him. “Yep! Don’t worry about it, Miss—”

You really wish you hadn’t turned around because the moment your eyes locked with a pair of emeralds, you swear that your heart leapt out of your chest. All feeling of chilliness lamented, you feel red heat stretching out across your skin.

“H-Haiba-kun?!”

Unable to keep your footing steady, a stagnant lump rises in your throat when the familiar man grins at you with galaxies in his eyes.

“Fairy-senpai!!”

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Tokyo, Japan. October 2012.

“Senpai!”

Footsteps echoing down the corridor, a wave of frightened third years part to let the gigantic creature of a first year through. Haiba Lev, age 16, is excited. Haiba Lev, 194.3 centimeters tall, is burning with so much resolve that he pays no heed to the Discipline Committee member who is resentfully yelling at him to “stop running in the hallways, you hoodlum!”

But who could blame him?

When you turn around and jolt in surprise, Lev drowns in the tiny fairies that flutter in his chest.

“Haiba-kun? What are you doing here?” you take a moment to register his full presence—considering his substantial size, Lev would probably understand your current disposition.

Finally, you whisper in a low tone, highly aware of the crowd that’s pivoting towards your conversation. “... Did you get lost again?”

“Of course not!” Lev replies rather gruffly. “I wanted to look for you to give you this so I can thank you for when I got lost.”

Thrusting a daintily wrapped bento towards you, the tall boy is rather unabashed about the entire situation—lace cloth and all. There’s a fragrant steam seeping out from the gaps of the box, spooling and wafting (and you think your ears pick up the noise of someone’s rumbling stomach).

You’d thought of spending your lunch alone in your club room, or maybe even the rooftop if you were up for it... like the usual. But the moment Lev starts talking again, you completely forget the idea as a whole.

Innocently grinning, he asks, “Do you want to eat lunch together, L/N-senpai?”

How could you say no?

And thus, here you are in the courtyard with a titan first-year who is nearly twice your size, jovially chattering about as you quietly eat your lunch.

When was the last time you ate something so cute? Your parents stopped making you character bentos since you got into middle school (“Aah... sorry, Y/N. Dad’s hands aren’t as artistic as they used to be,” your father had told you that day, an utter look of guilt dancing across his face). You weren’t too confident in your own skills either, so bentos with endearing faces and shaped cut-outs of vegetables were simply a fragmented piece of the past.

First-years today are so talented, you think, shoveling down your meal in sheer politeness. “This is delicious, Haiba-kun! The chicken is so tender and the rice is so well-seasoned! I wish I had your sense for cooking...”

“My sister made it, actually. I tried to help her cut the eggs, but it ended up being a mess and she told me to just sit and wait in the dining room,” he replies sheepishly, a bubble of laughter slipping from between his lips. “I’m glad you like it though, Senpai! Just wait ‘til my sister hears about your reaction!”

“Does your sister always make your lunches for you?” you ask, curiosity subduing your reserve.

Lev takes a moment to swallow the lump of rice in his mouth.

“Mm, sometimes. If she’s not having a lecture in the morning, she’ll make breakfast. Otherwise, the teriyaki set at the cafeteria is just as good!”

Cafeteria. You shiver. That hellhole of shoving and scrambling and incessant talking... You’re thankful the school had decided to set up a few more vending machines close to campus when you entered your second year.

And then you think of Lev. With that extreme height and intimidating presence, he wouldn’t have to put his foot on the line every time he wanted melon bread, right? And he is definitely the type of person to be able to talk to the loud cafeteria lady without dropping his change.

Confidence. Recklessness. Bliss. All the prime features you wanted, right in front of you—and yet...

“Hey, L/N-senpai?” you snap awake from your thoughts. A dash of concern flashes over your underclassman’s features before he repeats his muted question. “Can I have one of your sausages?”

Peering down at the cluster of uneaten octopus sausages, you quickly nod, face reddening once you realize how close Lev is breathing near you. “G-Go ahead.”

Chirping out a “thank you for the food!”, the silver-haired boy swoops down on a miniature octopus, a sound of immense satisfaction humming in his chest. He’s like a child, you laugh to yourself. A young boy with no sense of care of the world, no concern of what’s going to happen to him unless he really does it.

Leaning back on the bench, you sigh, a smile dawning on your face. “You didn’t have to force yourself to eat lunch with me, you know. I usually eat by myself anyway.”

You’re being apologetic again. You want to punch yourself for even thinking of it. But your habit precedes your intentions, and you can already feel the mood turn sour—

“Why not though?”

Looking up at him incredulously, you can barely string together a coherent response before Lev pipes up again.

“Isn’t food always best when eaten together?”

How pretentious.

There are already valleys of flowers blooming in your stomach at his innocent reply. The same kind that sprouted the day he’d burst into your private practice room. You really hoped you wouldn’t get ahead of yourself anymore. Not with the risks that it carried. But this guileless first year was a much more difficult case than you’d imagined, and thus the flowers go into full blossom.

You smile, the faint blush on Lev’s cheeks going unnoticed. “Yeah. We should eat together more often.”

And so you did. Tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. The passage of time a trivial shadow beneath your budding happiness.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Vienna, Austria. January 2022.

“You work in a symphony?! Senpai’s job is super cool!”

Under the amber light of the cafe’s chandelier, you can’t help but feel a certain déjà vu at your current situation. Perhaps it’s the fact that you’re having tea with your high school underclassman, or maybe it’s simply the residue of your more recent wistful thinking.

Yet again, it still hasn’t registered into your mind how you’d miraculously manifested Lev into proximity just from your sheer yearning... You kind of feel selfish.

“It’s just a freelance job though, it’s probably not as impressive as being a model,” you say.

Lev crosses his arms huffily, and you worry if you’ve started to offend him. Until he opens his mouth again. “Modelling is suuuper embarassing. Sometimes, I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that ‘that’s my face!’ or ‘I made that pose with that other model’. The agency’s really harsh on the way I dress too—I mean, what’s wrong with wearing a shirt that says ‘HERBIVORE’ to go to Lawson’s?”

You stifle a giggle as he rambles on about “the time I had to cross-dress as a woman because the female model quit on the day of the shoot”. For someone who had grown up to be a lean, rather attractive figure, you can’t shake your head away from the thought that the 16-year old Haiba Lev is still stuck inside the body of a corporate slave. There’s a sense of relief that accompanies the feeling, and memories of your high school days slowly come into picture—

“One black tea and a latte for the lovely couple?” a kind-looking waiter gently sidles in between you, cutting Lev off from his rant, and you from your reflection.

Turning a vivid shade of crimson, you stutter, “O-oh... we are not—”

“Thank you,” Lev grins dashingly, enough to make your heart race and a few passers-by to stop in their tracks.

Once the waiter retreats back into the pantry, the man across you slowly leans forward to whisper endearingly. “My sister wants me to practice my English while I’m abroad. You think I got my message across, Senpai?”

“You did well, Haiba-kun.” There are a lot of things you want to ask him really. If he really knew the meaning behind the waiter’s sentence. Or if he realized he’d nearly pronounced ‘you’ with an extra ‘th’.

... Or why he’s pouring in a mound of sugar into your cup of tea.

“H-Haiba-kun, that order’s mine...”

“Hm? Yeah, I know,” he mutters, the soft clinking of the spoon against glass echoing in your head. “You like your stuff really sweet, right? Man, I used to be really worried the first few times we had tea together.”

That’s right, you gulp. The endless hours you’d spent together in the Orchestra Club room... he really did learn a lot of things about you that time, didn’t he? Although you had merely been friends, Lev had grown on you, as if he’d always been there from the start. And you wonder: what else does he remember about you?

“Ah, by the way,” Lev starts. “Are you still thinking about setting up that music store you wanted?”

“Of course,” you mumble. It was only a naïve dream was what you meant to say, but in the presence of such a captivating man, all the gears in your head seemed to... dislocate.

Lev smiles a simple smile. Boyish at best, but still enough to enrapture you into his lingering gaze.

“I’m glad.... I’m glad you haven’t given up. You know, the old L/N-senpai would’ve called it quits because you thought you weren’t good enough. But look at you now! Soon enough, you’ll be off to teach music to the world.”

Your heart is already doubling in size at his words. Any more and you’d probably explode... You’d lost it. You’ve lost all the capability to keep your heart in control, and now you are smiling like a maniac in front of the last person you wanted to see in this state.

But he only laughs. Youthful and full of color. Unchanging from all those years ago.

“Wahahaha! You finally smiled! We should celebrate, you know. Just a small holiday from all that hard work. Say... are you still going to be in Vienna in the weekend?”

“I’m free on those days. But what’s all this about?”

Hiding his bashful smirk behind his cup of coffee, Lev murmurs. “We have some catching up to do, don’t we—Uwaah! Hot!”

Unchanging indeed, you shake your head, calling over the waiter for an extra set of napkins.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Tokyo, Japan. February 2013.

There is a tea party set stashed between the two cardboard boxes filled with sheet music and spare melodicas. They’ve been left behind by your graduated seniors, who insisted that tea, “as the prime component to a good host”, was to be kept in the club room at all times, case there were any visiting guests.

...Of course, such things never happened. And you always ended up drinking the tea by yourselves. But even with the departure of your beloved seniors, you can never shake off the habit of drinking and restocking the supplies whenever required.

So you wonder if you should really be thanking your tea-loving upperclassmen for the free beverages.

“That’s a lot of sugar!” Lev gasps in awe, the emeralds in his eyes twisting and shining with the cascade of crystals falling into your cup of tea. “I bet you have a lot of cavities in your mouth, Senpai.”

“I brush my teeth very well so I don’t think anything like that’s every happened to me,” you say, irritably trying to ignore the tactless comment from your starry-eyed underclassman. “It’s been a while since you’ve been in my club room, hasn’t it? I’m glad you didn’t get lost trying to get here.”

He grumbles, crossing his arms in faux-anger. “Geez! I won’t get lost like that so easily! Besides...”

Lev takes a moment to drink in the warmth of the club room’s solace. The grand piano in the corner. The orange light streaming through the open curtains. Your curious face, like something out of a fairytale book.

“This place is full of good memories, isn’t it? I don’t think I’ll ever forget something like that.”

You chuckle at his monologue. “You sound like my grandfather, Haiba-kun.”

Lev’s face warps into something reminiscent of a prune.

“Senpai, we’re only two years apart!” he fumes. “You didn’t invite me here just to crush my self-esteem, right?! C-Come on, aren’t you going to show me the audition piece you wanted me to hear?”

There is a burning urge inside of you that’s telling you to “pull at his leg just a little more...”, but nevertheless, the artist within you says to keep your audience at bay. And so, the curtains open and your fingers dance on familiar keys.

You’ve played for him before. Songs like ‘Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy’ or ‘Ma Mère L’oye’. Songs that you love, much like the one you’re performing for him right now. But you’re shaking in your seat. Wondering, anticipating, fearing.

He’s staring so much, you bite your lip, trying to avert your focus from Lev’s unbreakable gaze.

A single spectator wracks your brain even more than a theatre full of different kinds people—enthusiasts, university scouts, onlookers. But in your dismal, little club room, there is only your underclassman. Someone who knows nothing of music, but lacks so much knowledge that you know any of his critique would come from honesty alone.

...Why do you care so much about one person’s opinion?

You don’t realize how long you’ve been pondering until your train of thought is abruptly thwarted by the end of your song. You finish on a satisfying note and your endearing onlooker suddenly springs on his feet to shower you in applause.

“What the heck—that was so cool! I’ve never seen anyone play like that before!” Lev stumbles, everything and anything he’d planned to say pouring out as a blubbering mess as your face grows hotter from the attention. “Senpai, you’ll definitely pass the audition if you play just like that.”

“Y-You really think so?” he’s probably just being nice, you think. But for a spare moment, could you simply imagine that he means every word?

“I know so!” he smiles, the palpitations in your chest growing intense by the second. “You just have to keep going, won’t you?”

Even if you’re not brave enough to believe it, you want to believe that there’s a single Haiba Lev in this unyielding universe who believes that you, a mere side character who wishes for more, can and will.

You feel invincible.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Vienna, Austria. January 2022.

Did you know that swans mate for life? As a symbol of love and affection, they’re widely known to curve their necks together in a shape of a heart when courting. A form of elegance at its finest... until they start hissing.

“They’re so big! Senpai, come take a look at the swans!”

Folding the brochure into a tiny square, you return to your companion’s side, peering over the railings of the bridge to catch a glimpse of the thrush of white feathers down below.

You gulp. They are much larger than you expected.

“They’re surprisingly loud, aren’t they?” you mutter, watching a cygnet waddle its way out of the water onto the banks of the canal. You didn’t want to say, but it slightly reminded you of Lev the first time he’d waddled his way into the the Orchestra Club room.

With the constant squawking of the swans, the both of you find yourself in silence. For you, at least, the past two days viewing all sorts of Austrian sights with Lev had been strangely more gratifying than you’d fathomed. Lev, who’d been as excitable as he’d always been, breathes in peace, plumes of white forming from his mouth.

“This weekend’s been nice, hasn’t it?” you break the silence, observing the smooth junctures of his face. Lev turns to you slowly, his voice squeezing out.

“Don’t say that.”

Your blood freezes. “What?”

“Saying things like that...” Lev sighs wilfully and turns back to the view of the canal. He frowns. “I don’t want to think that this weekend is going to be over soon.”

You want to cry out. Me too. Me too, me too, me too. Your entire body is so full of butterflies you want to double over and pass out. But he continues.

“Travelling and talking with you is so fun, I never want it to end... It’s kind of embarrassing,” he says, eyes sparkling. “D-Do you think so too? Am I a selfish person for thinking that?”

You shake your head. “It’s not embarrassing, Haiba-kun. I—”

Are you red? Are you blushing? Your face feels so hot, you can’t even finish your sentence. He’s so close. So close to you. You want to be reliable, you want to reply, but you can’t. Under his bewitching gaze, you’ve fallen so deep.

When Lev opens his mouth again, it’s like everything around you—the bridge, the people, the swans have entirely vanished. “L/N-senpai, c-can I tell you something? Something I wanted to tell you for a long time.”

Eh?

“I’ve always liked you, Senpai. I really, really like you.”

Blank. Your mind goes blank, even when you whisper a small, “Really?”

You’re happy, you’re so happy you want to jump and shout to the world that you love him. Awfully. Dearly. It’s all like a train had crashed into you headfirst, and you can’t settle on a proper response before the floodgates burst open.

“Wh-Whoa! Don’t cry!” he flails his arms in panic as more tears dribble down your cheeks. “Geez, Senpai, at least reply to me first...”

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” you laugh, wiping your eyes with the edges of your scarf. “I’m just so happy, I didn’t know how to react.”

Lev’s chest inflates for a moment before he lunges forward to encapsulate you in his embrace. Between the persistent layers of clothing, the beating of his heart resonates deeply against your face. It’s quick and lively, warm enough to remind you of the swirled feelings that you harbor for one another.

“Oh, thank god...” Lev grins, burying his face in your shoulder. “You feel the same way...”

Humming calmly into his ear, you revel in the closure. “I really, really like you too, Haiba-kun.”

And none of you lets go—save for when a swan makes its way up to the bridge to peck at Lev’s boots.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Tokyo, Japan. March 2023.

“... Lev, wake up.”

Feeling a slight nudge on his cheek, Lev tethers over opening his eyes to wonder at your beautiful smile or bury his face even deeper into the sheets.

It’s not like he didn’t favor you, but as of now, the comforts of your shared bed was more important. And thus, Haiba Lev, age 26, shrouds himself under the plush duvet and focuses himself on the sweet dream he was having about you.

“Lev, I know you can hear me...” he hears you sigh, long and airy, just enough to lull him back to sleep. “You have a fitting today, don’t you? You’re going to trouble Matsuyo-san and Alisa-nee if you arrive late.”

Isn’t that on Thursday? Actually... what day is it today? He isn’t very good with dates and formalities—that’s why he considers himself lucky to have you! A cute lover to bring him back to land during the day, and to shower with love and to cuddle with during the evening.

Yawning widely, Lev owlishly wrenches his eyes open, the crystalline sunlight from the bedroom window illuminating your face like a halo.... and was that his shirt you were wearing?

Lucky me~ he grins goofily.

Pressing his lips together, Lev pulls you by the wrist and before you can avoid the sudden attack, you’ve collapsed once more into a tangled mess of limbs and crooked sheets, with your boyfriend’s arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

“Let’s just stay in bed today, Y/N-san~” he slurs, nuzzling closer to you. How catlike, you think. “I want to be lovey-dovey and kissy-kissy again...”

He yawns again, a few stray tresses of silver falling over his face. As if he wasn’t as attractive every hour of the day, you really have learned how to take control of your extreme heart palpitations around him.

Your adorable younger boyfriend, ah... he really is your weakness, isn’t he?

“I’m really sorry, but I have to open up the shop soon,” you reluctantly peel yourself away from him, eliciting a small whimper from the Leviathan in your bed. “I’ll make it up to you when I finish teaching my evening lessons and when you come home, okay?”

Stubborn as a goat, Lev grumbles. “I’ll come back early, you know. Can you not do your evening lessons today?”

“Hm? Why not?” your raised eyebrow is cynical, but is juxtaposed by the gentle strokes of your palm on the crown of his head.

As much as Lev loves you (he does, he really does!), it’s rather annoying when he can’t tell if you’re seriously being oblivious or simply teasing him. He hopes for neither, but in his case, you’re an addict to his gags and without a doubt, you’re definitely messing with him right now.

“Those damn brats... I don’t like the way they stare you up during your classes.”

You laugh, raucously. And Lev considers leaving you to catch a break from the constant jeering. When you finally pipe down, you shift closer to him and press your head onto his bare chest.

“Lev, they’re nine. How else are they going to learn to play if they don’t watch me do it first?” you chuckle. “You shouldn’t worry so much about me. You should be worrying about that fitting you have in a few hours.”

“Geez, fine,” he groans. “A kiss before I shower?”

You know exactly where this is going. “Just one.”

Lighting up like a Christmas tree, Lev makes quick work of his hands and tenderly cup your cheek before placing a timid kiss on your lips.

No morning breath, you notice. As expected of a professional model.

“One more...” he whispers, swooping down on your lips once again.

Two, three and maybe seven kisses later, Lev has you caged between his arms, his looming figure propped proudly over you as he continues to pepper you with affection. The moment he starts to lap up your bottom lip, you know you’re not going anywhere anytime soon.

“It’s so early, Y/N-san,” he mumbles, pleading eyes making your heart turn to jelly. “We have a few more hours before we really have to go, don’t we? So... in the meantime...?”

Sighing, you can only turn a deep red—he really has you around his finger, doesn’t he? Oh well. You suppose it won’t hurt to push back your morning lessons for a few minutes, right?

[honeypwark]

[ Her Boys ]

  ↳ January 2015

     ↳ Yeosu is being kicked out of the company.  She has resigned to her fate.  Her boys come to the rescue.

m.list

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The door to conference room C opens.  It's a smaller room and holds none of the sentimental value that conference room A has of Yeosu meeting the boys for the first time.  It's unfamiliar. Uncharted territory.

Sejin steps out into the hall and shuts the door behind him.  Yeosu is right there, looking at him expectantly.  As he looks at her apologetically, the hope that was burning weakly in her eyes is snuffed out.  Her expression falls.

“Yeosu, I'm so sorry but... they've made a decision.  It's a majority and I don't have enough power to-"

"No, I know.  I don't blame you.  I know it's not your fault.  I just, um..."

Yeosu is barely holding back tears, looking around the hallway hopelessly.

Sejin's heart breaks a little more at the sight of her losing her composure, "They agreed to give you as much time as you need to collect your thoughts."

Yeosu nods, chin quivering.  She turns and walks down the hall, hands tight in fists at her side.  She walks stiffly until she reaches the bathroom.  She quickly checks and is glad to find she's alone.  She locks the door behind her and walks inside.  And she sobs.

She steadies herself on the wall as sobs rack her body.  She covers her mouth and sinks to the floor, hugging herself and crying.  She can't believe this is actually happening.  She's worked so hard; how can they just take that all away?

It takes several minutes for Yeosu to collect herself.  She stands on shaky legs and walks over to one of the sinks, bracing herself on it and letting her remaining sobs fall from her mouth.  She takes a deep breath and looks at herself in the mirror.  She hardens her expression and turns the faucet on.

She splashes her face with cold water from one of the sinks.   She dries her face and reapplies mascara and lip gloss.  She fixes her hair then gives herself a final once over.  If this is how she goes out, she's at least going to look hot doing it.

With a nod at herself, she exits the restroom.  She rounds the corner and finds Sejin still waiting outside conference room C for her.  She stops in front of him.

"Thank you," she says.  "For everything you've done for me.  For fighting for me during this mess.  You'll take care of my boys, right?"

Sejin swallows and can only nod, struggling to keep his own emotions in check. Yeosu smiles at him then steps around him to enter the conference room.  Inside, Bang PD, two members of BigHit's legal team, and a lawyer sit waiting for her.  There had been a quiet conversation between Bang PD and a member of the legal team but they fall silent as Yeosu enters.

She bows to them all and greets them politely.  Bang PD greets her from his seat but the three other men stand and return her bow.  Sejin walks into the room behind her and pulls out two chairs, one for himself and one for Yeosu.  She sits beside him calmly.

"We know this must be difficult for you to understand-"

"I don't need it sugarcoated," Yeosu interrupts the man from legal who speaks, the usual politeness in her voice gone and replaced by an upfront, business-like coldness.  "Just tell me what I'm signing."

"Alright, um, Mister Cha."

The man addressed, the lawyer, begins to read of a piece of paper, "Due to a scandal that ruined the career of BigHit Entertainment's first and only girl group GLAM, BigHit has since decided to terminate all contracts of existing female performing artists and transfer all current female trainees to Source Music, if they will not be returning to their homes or auditioning and transferring to another company.  The former category includes the current members of GLAM- Park Jiyeon, Kim Jinhee also known as Zinni, Kim Dahee, and Kim Miso-, solo artist Lim Jeong-hee, and Bangtan Sonyeondan member Bae Yeosu, also known as YB.  BigHit Entertainment feels this is the best course of action to avoid any future scandals."

Less officially, it's explained to Yeosu that now would also be a good time to terminate her contract as the company is planning to take BTS on a new path musically and begin "The Most Beautiful Moment in Life" series.

Yeosu wants to argue.  She wants to plead her case.  All of this getting rid of current and possible female artists stuff was decided without consulting the debuted female artists and female trainees. None of the boys of BTS were consulted either and they probably won't know until it's done that the termination of the GLAM members' contracts also means the trmination of Yeosu's.  But Yeosu knows from what Sejin's told her that the ball is rolling much to fast at this point to stop it with just one or two people.

"We'll start with you signing here, Miss Bae."

A folder is slid past Sejin to her, open to the first page with a pen set on top.  Yeosu wants to beg them to reconsider but she knows it will do no good.  She refuses to let her last moments as a BigHit artist be pitiful.  She picks up the pen and clicks it, moving to sign along the line on the bottom of the page.

"Wait!"

The door to the conference room suddenly flies open and Jungkook stands in the doorway, panting.  His eyes dart around the room until he finds Yeosu.

"Noona, don't sign anything!"

Yeosu stands and starts to walk over to him, "Jungkook, I know it's hard but-"

"You were just going to leave without saying goodbye?" Taehyung asks, coming to a stop behind Jungkook.

Jungkook, being the fastest runner, had made it to the conference room first.  Taehyung followed second, then the other five boys arrive together and pile into the room.  They all start talking at once, relaying the same argument seven different ways: they want Yeosu to stay.  As much as it warms her heart, it breaks it at the same time.

Yeosu approaches them, "Boys... boys, please."

She doesn't raise her voice but the seven boys all stop speaking.

"I don't want to do this, but there's nothing I can do."

"Noona, you can't leave," Jimin says in a small voice, his hand finding hers.

"I don't want to, Minnie, but-," she swallows hard, "It's out of my hands."

"Has she signed anything, yet?" Namjoon asks.

"No," Sejin responds.

"Then I'd like to propose an argument."

"Namjoon-"

Namjoon turns to Yeosu and says quietly, "Don't give up yet.  Please?"

Yeosu knows she has.  She gave up when Sejin came out of the conference room twenty minutes prior.  But Namjoon still holds out hope and he's one of the smartest people she knows.  So even if she's given in, she nods and lets Namjoon make a case.

"I understand that what happened with the blackmail scandal can be very damaging to a person's career as well as who they're affiliated with," Namjoon starts, "But being a woman doesn't affiliate Yeosu with Dahee.  I can understand disbanding GLAM and I know that Lim Jeong-hee has already agreed to sign with another company, but please don't terminate Yeosu's contract just because she's a woman."

"She's done nothing wrong and kicking a member of a completely different group out of the company won't send a good message to our female fans," Jimin speaks up.

"Feminism and sexism is a touchy subject in Korea, but if we ever want to do well internationally, this is not the way to go about it," Yoongi says.

"She's also an amazing performer," Hoseok adds.  "She can sing amazingly and she can dance better than anyone I know.  She helps choreograph our dances and has unrivaled stage presence.  It would be a blow to the company to get rid of such an outstanding performer.  You'll regret it when she finds fame elsewhere."

"She's also an integral part of the group in terms of our relationships with one another," Taehyung says.  "She is sort of like a mom, but that's something we need.  She helps to resolve conflict among the members and is patient with us.  She keeps us in line and keeps morale up."

"She takes care of us," Jungkook says, speaking shyly at first but gaining confidence.  "She makes sure we're emotionally taken care of.  She's our sister."

"We'd fall apart without her," Seokjin continues, "You can't get rid of her just because of another woman's mistake."

"We weren't spoken to about any of this and we feel it is unfair to remove a person from a group without speaking to any of the members, even the one who's contract is at stake," Namjoon says.

He pauses briefly.

"We, the seven male members of BTS, have come to the decision that if you terminate Yeosu's contract, we'll leave the company with her."

Yeosu whips her head to look at Namjoon but he's looking straight ahead at Bang PD.  She tries to communicate with him telepathically, asking him if he's insane.  They all can't throw away their careers for her, she won't allow it.

Bang PD holds Namjoon gaze for a few moments then leans over to one of the men from legal, "Can they do that?"

"They'd have to sue for mistreatment and win the case in court," the man tells him.  "So, technically, yes."

"I've done my research," Namjoon tells him.  "Even if we don't win our cases, it would be another scandal that you wouldn't want to deal with.  We're not asking for you to alter anything you're doing that doesn't involve BTS.  Disband GLAM, end Jeong-hee's contract, transfer the trainees, that's all fine.  We just ask that you don't kick Yeosu out.  We're her boys.  And we need her."

The silence that follows is deafening.  Yeosu is sure everyone in the room can hear her heart beating in her chest.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Yeosu leaves the room first, keeping her back to the boys as they file out after her.  They're all silent.

"Soo-"

Yeosu spins around and jabs a finger into Namjoon's chest, "You absolute idiot!  Why would you do that?"

Namjoon stands with his mouth open in surprise, unable to find the words to respond to her angry outburst.

“You can’t just risk your whole career for me! This group is more than just me and the idea that you all would just give it up is just- just so-... what were you thinking?!”

Namjoon opens and closes his mouth, trying to find a response but being unable to. The boys are all surprised by her reaction. They’ve never seen her mad like this before.

A second later, Yeosu wraps her arms around Namjoon, hugging him tightly.

"You're so stupid," she says into his shoulder.

Namjoon laughs confusedly and returns her hug, "We're your boys, we couldn't just let you go."

"How did you even know about any of this?"

"Sejin had been keeping us up to date on everything once he figured out you weren’t telling us anything," Seokjin explains.

“Thanks for that, by the way,” Yoongi says.

Yeosu sends him a glare with no ferocity behind it as she and Namjoon separate.

"Sejin texted us earlier after they'd come to a consensus.  Told us to hurry up and get here," Hoseok says. "We'd been planning out what to say when it came down to it for a few weeks now.”

"I love all of you,” Yeosu says, “But next time, don't plan my rescue without my knowledge, please."

The boys all laugh.

Yeosu sighs then opens her arms, “Come here.”

Jimin is the first to run into Yeosu’s embrace but the others aren’t far behind to join in their hug.

Just minutes ago, Bang PD was convinced by the seven boys' loyalty to Yeosu and allowed her to stay.  Their willingness to give up everything proved their need for her to remain in the group.  The legal team members and the lawyer are still in the conference room with Bang PD and Sejin, cleaning up the mess they'd almost made by getting rid of Yeosu.

It's there, in the middle of a hallway in the BigHit building, surrounded by all seven of her boys as they hug one another for a long while, that she realizes just how much she means to these boys.  They were going to give up everything they'd accomplished up until now simply because she'd no longer be with them on their journey.  She realizes how much these seven boys mean to her.  With her father as her only family member she has a connection with, BTS have become her family.  They mean everything to her.  She can't believe she almost let them go.

As they break apart, badly attempt to hide tears, and start to head back home, Yeosu vows to herself that she'll never let them go again.

[dancing-the-hellfire-rumba]

Tell Me Everything

Pairing: Chris Evans x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3k Summary:  Reader works as a costume designer in Marvel. She's currently working on Endgame, designing the costumes for each superhero (but especially her favorite one), when Chris stops by. Later, he tries it on. Mutal pining goodness and fluff all throughout :) Warnings: None :) A/N: It’s been a while. I’ve written for chris once only, and I already miss it. Here’s some fluff.

Earphones plugged in deep in her ears, blocking every other sound apart from her music. The side of her hand is dirty with pencil lead, leaving occasional smudges on the paper that she forgets to erase. It’s- there’s a lingering fatigue she can’t really shake off. She’s beyond exhausted, working so late in the night, still in her office, but doing this, right here, it feels so damn good. It doesn’t matter that she should be heading home, because all her repressed creativity is bleeding in the paper, flowing as if it’s pouring out of her veins . Finally, finally , doing the thing she’s great at, the thing she loves.

Her music is deep, dark, has a strong but slow beat to it, and she bobs her head along, uncaring of the strands of hair that are furiously escaping her ponytail. She gets lost in the design, vigorously making swooping lines and hard edges, scribbling to her heart’s content, erasing a line and coming back in. The tedious process of adding details makes her settle just a little.

These past few years have been incredible. Working for Marvel was a dream she didn’t even know she’d had, the opportunity of a lifetime, truly. During the time spent working with all these amazing people, she’s learned, she’s grown, she’d developed as an artist and as a person. She can say nothing less than she’s happy, truly happy here. She means, designing and creating costumes for this franchise has been a job she couldn’t have even dreamt of. It may get tiresome, sometimes boring and tedious, but right now, designing… she feels like she’s been born to do this and just this.

It’s been a while since she’d gotten so lost in a design. It may be the fact that this particular one, and the actor that’s supposed to wear it, is her favorite. She may be biased. But she’d had amazing ideas and she was so eager to just make them come to life.

She’s coloring the last of the star in the center of the chest, when fingers tap her shoulder. Having been so lost in her work and music, she feels like someone poured a bucket of water over her without warning, and she jumps, pulling her earbuds out by their wire and swiveling her chair to look at the intruder.

Chris smiles down at her, all teeth and soft eyes. His hands are in the air flamboyantly, It’s me!, dark grey, long sleeved Henley loose on his biceps, and dark wash jeans hugging his thighs tightly. His hair is grown longer, tucked behind his ears, his beard is… new , and very nicely trimmed. Her heart thumps a little louder at the sight of him. If anyone were to ask, she’d blame the jumpscare, but she knows better.

“Chris!” Excitedly getting off her seat and throwing her arms around his shoulders in a friendly hug. His own wrap around her tightly, squeeze her to him, if only for a second, and she exhales.

“Hey!” He tells her, just as excitedly, and she pulls back. “I’m sorry I scared you, I knocked and there was no answer.” She waves a hand to show him it’s okay and plops back on her seat unceremoniously.

“What are you even doing here?! I thought the cast was gonna show up next week, for the fittings?” A strand tucked behind her ear and she’s suddenly kind of self-conscious of her disheveled state. Chris leans his hip on her desk and crosses his arms over his chest casually, looking like one of those bad boys in 2000’s coming-of-age rom-coms. She tries not to stare, but it’s a struggle, and a funny thought crosses her mind. If she were looking at him for the first time, he’d be screaming trouble. He still does, but less because he’s scary and a heartbreaker, and more because she’s hopeless when it comes to being functional around him.

“I had some business up here in New York, and the Russo’s asked me to drop by. Something about paperwork.” He shrugs lightly and she ‘ah’s, accompanied by a nod and a brief eyebrow twitch to show her understanding.

“Well, I’m happy you dropped by. It’s been a hot minute, hasn’t it,” she smiles at him, and Chris nods, a bit of an apologetic, regretful almost, look in his eye.

“So,” he says and shifts his weight a little, “whatcha working on?”

“You, actually.” Lead-stained fingers pull the sketchbook under the light a little better, closer to him, and he gets off his hip, places his left hand on the back of her chair, leaning all his weight on his right, on the desk. His chest is suddenly so close to her face, her shoulder brushes his torso and she’s holding her breath , because he smells so good –cologne and aftershave?- she might fucking faint . She can feel her face heat up. She wonders if he’s doing it on purpose, if he knows at all. She watches his expression.

“Waddaya got?” It’s all interest in his voice, and he doesn’t seem to intend to move. Damn.

“Well,” she takes a shaky breath, “I figured, y’know-“ a mindless shrug, and his shirt is exceptionally soft and fairly thin, two layers between their bare skin, and- oh gosh, she's supposed to be explaining things. Focus! “Cap needs a new suit, and he’s a fugitive now, right? He doesn’t really care to get a new one tailored.” Chris exhales a chopped, amused breath and nods sideways, as if saying You have a point there . “So the old one would have to do.

“But it’s different now, because he can’t have the same exact one, completely untouched, and he’s a different man now anyways.” Scooting the chair closer to the desk on instinct- and fucking great , now she’s literally pressing into the bottom of his ribcage lightly with her shoulder. It’s getting harder to breathe. She can feel his exhales on her face, Jesus. “So basically,” a steadying, shaky breath, “I made it dirtier- that’s why the colors are darker. It’s supposed to be aging fabric. But it’s also more comfortable for you.

“The sleeves will end right here-” without giving it much thought, she traces a line under his right elbow, the one on which he’s leaning, and he follows the motion with his gaze intently, “and you’ll wear some fingerless gloves with buckles on them.” He nods, eyes still not off her design, occasionally flicking to glance at her. “But,” she begins.

“The detail I’m most excited for is this,” a tap on the star in the middle of the uniform- or rather lack thereof. The space where the plastic white thing once resided is now dark blue like the rest of the uniform. She grins up at him when his features twitch in interest. “I pitched this to Joe and he really loved it. Basically, my logic is that, as we said, Cap’s a fugitive, yeah?” Chris nods, attentive as ever. “He’s gone against every government official he knows, against a big chunk of his own team. The news have probably said awful things about him and painted him as a superhero gone rogue or something. So what does he do? He rips off the star.

“He no longer fits the Captain America title, in the sense that he doesn’t want to be associated with the government’s lap dog, their dancing monkey. Instead of faithfully following orders as a soldier, he’s his own self, still a Captain, but on his own terms. It’s symbolic! He’s carving his own  path, leading like he was always meant to, and he’s dramatic enough to have done this- ripped off the star I mean. The suit should feel more familiar to him now.”

She’s been rambling for a while, her mouth is drier, but she was so excited when the idea manifested in her head. A big sense of pride washed over her, she couldn’t wait to design and implement it in the costume.

And Chris, well… Chris is looking at her with this small little smile that grows the more he considers it. “I…” he shakes his head, a grin stretching his pretty lips, “I fucking love it,” he tells her, with so much genuine warmth in his tone. She’s never heard him this confident and proud , like a parent almost, glowing at her like she’s something brighter than a star. “That’s brilliant , Y/n, holy shit ! The fans will go nuts!” He leans close to inspect the design again with the new parameters in mind, shaking his hand as if disbelieving, smile remaining on his face. “You’re amazing .”

A hot, red blush spreads across her cheeks fiercely, and there’s a lingering urge to sit up straighter, to square her shoulders in pride and happiness, because she’s so happy he liked it¸ but she is now acutely aware of how close he is, still not having moved away from her since she pressed into him accidentally. She resorts to a one shouldered shrug. “Thank you,” her voice is meeker than she’d like it, but Chris doesn’t mention it. Instead, they share a smile.

=

“Ready?”

“I’m, unf, gimme a sec- I’m coming.” Some shuffling, and then the sound of the curtain being pulled back, and she puts her phone away, swiveling in her chair and- oh Christ.

“Chris… ” she says, eyes racking from the tops of his shoes, up his legs, his thighs, his belt. The way the comfortable material stretches over his fit stomach, up his curved chest, and extends up to the base of his neck- it’s, fuck, he looks so good. His veiny forearms are exposed to the warm lamp light in the room, and he’s not wearing the gloves, seeing as they’re sitting on her desk.

The dark blue of his suit makes his newly dyed hair look golden .

“How do I look?” He says with a grin, striking an exuberant pose just to make her smile, and she grins.

“I’ll give you like,” she pretends to think for a second, “a six out of ten.” A shrug and a bitten back smile, and his hand goes to his chest dramatically, thick eyebrows furrowing and blowing out a breath.

“Damn,” he tells her with a look in his eyes that she can’t really place, something teasing, but like they're sharing an inside joke of some kind. “Harsh critic,” it’s teasing and happy, and she chuckles, because yeah. This is quite  perfect. She grabs his gloves off her desk and gets off her chair, going up to him and holding them for him to squeeze his hands in. She tightens some buckles, smooths a hand over the leathery material, making non-existent creases disappear.

A step back, she inspects the way the material hugs his thighs so nicely, but is also still baggy, to give him some freedom of movement. His boots are almost knee high, and- it actually looks like it might be a bit tight in the neck. She steps closer to him, barely tests the two buckles in front of his shoulders, checking that there’s give for him to move in. “It’s good? Comfortable, I mean?” A finger dragged between the collar of his top and his neck, purely professionally she swears, it was a subconscious move to check how much space there is for him to breathe and move his neck. And that’s the moment stupid Chris chooses to hum and she feels it in the exhale hitting her face, the vibration of his throat.

God .

Her lips purse and she squints a little, pulling back her hand. I can make this better , she decides. “Don’t move,” she orders and heads to her desk, grabbing some needle and a thread that matches the color of his suit, along with a small blade. She walks back up to him again and, with a careful hand on his chest and the threaded needle carefully placed between her lips, she makes a few, strategically placed rips near the star with the blade.

“Don’t stab me,” he says, tone low for a reason she can’t understand but makes a shiver run through her.

“Don’t give me ideas,” she counters, and Chris’s stomach shakes a little with a short, contained laugh. Continuing, she distresses the fabric, and patches up the edges so they won’t tear further during filming, allowing a string or two to stick out.

She is absolutely, of course, not ignoring how she can feel every single one of his breaths, and how he’s so good and still, and his hands are only a handful of inches away from her waist, his face hellishly close to hers.

A released exhale and a nod to herself. “Perfect,” she says quietly. She wraps the threaded needle around the handle of the blade so as to not lose it and throws it back on her desk haphazardly, to put away later. Unmoving from her spot near him, she gazes at the rips and decides it was a good addition. For just a second, it seems she forgets exactly how close he is, and now she looks up to him for approval, finding that same intent stare, straight into her soul from only three inches away.

There’s a sudden urge to shrink and disintegrate, confidence gone. Clothes she can handle. Chris she really can’t.

Baby blue eyes are watching her, standing perfectly still for her to do her thing, but there’s a, dare she say , affection of sorts in his gaze, and she’s very much struck with it. “You look great, Cap’n,” breathy and quiet, because she can’t fucking sit in silence when he looks at her like that. Chris smiles.

“All thanks to you.” A grin at the praise, at the lowered tone of his voice, as if he doesn’t want to break the moment with loud words. She should step back, b- but she physically cannot. Her muscles are seriously unwilling to move. This is her being weird, right? She’s crossing a line by taking advantage of his proximity, right? Why- He’s not showing any signs of awkwardness or discomfort though.

She’d like to know how one stretches a moment to eternity, a piece of knowledge she'd most certainly use right now. His cologne is the same as last week, when he visited in her office, comforting and musky, and he’s- he’s just looking at her with his beautiful eyes boring into hers, his warmth just centimeters away.

“You’re very close to me,” what a stupid thing to say , she scolds herself, but she just- she doesn’t know what else to do. Is it normal to feel such heat radiate from his body, or is that her mind playing tricks? She wants to curl into him, into said warmth, bury her nose in his neck and nuzzle there. It’s an urge that hits her like a tidal wave, and it almost makes her stagger on her feet. Her heart beats faster, inflated and full, adrenaline coursing through her veins all of a sudden. Chris swallows a little and nods. “What are you gonna do about it?”

There’s almost no charm in his tone, he looks borderline nervous, but there’s still some confidence in his velvety voice for him to flirt with her, the bastard and- she’s not imagining this, right? She’s not dreaming or anything? Chris actually enjoys this proximity, this closeness, he’s not pulling away. He just- he just sort of gave her consent to do something, anything. The ball is in her court, a challenge, proving she actually can do something about this.

With a shaky hand, she presses her palm flat on his chest.

A mental barrier is broken by that  touch and Chris seems to curl closer, if possible. His gloved hand goes to her waist, holding her near him, his head dipping lower, and she’s standing on her tiptoes. Noses brushing together, a challenge, emphasized in the teasing curl of his lips, sharing the same air. Beard tickling her top lip as she inches closer. A small hand on his face, and she licks her lips instinctively, parts them a little- and closes the gap between them.

It’s soft and wet and everything she’s ever dreamt of really, and holy shit , she’s dreamt of this. It’s actually happening, right now. He’s in his dumb Captain America uniform, pulling her close so now their chests are pressed together, moving his lips against hers slowly, and his hands are in leather gloves with buckles on them. The thought makes her smile a little, to the point where now the kiss is all teeth, and he pulls back for a second, as if sensing her amusement.

“What?” he asks. Her forehead leans on his chest, a sad attempt to hide her grin. His arms, one wrapping around her waist, his other hand on her back.

“I’m kissing Captain America,” and Chris lets out a single, incredulous breath, eyes rolling to the back of his head as if to say, you’re unbelievable. She grins up at him, a challenging eyebrow raised. Am I wrong though?

Teeth trap her bottom lip and she worries it for a moment as they quiet again, lost in thought and looking at him absently. She wants to kiss him again. She likes how his hands are warm on her back, how his chest is lean under her. Leaning on her tiptoes again, she smiles softly and brushes her nose on his cheek affectionately, because it’s suddenly okay to do so, the hairs of his beard scratchy against her skin. Chris is not having it though, and he turns his head to capture her lips again.

It feels so good, she thinks, as she instinctively places gentle fingers on his jawline to keep him tilted to her. It’s like the world is blooming. Like her heart is bursting through the seams, chest far too small for it. She kisses him, and he holds her just this much closer.

She’s kissing Captain America. And it’s a damn good fucking kiss.

Tags: @thegetawaywriter​ 

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Kiro’s Greenhouse Date (Eng Translation)

🍒Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers!🍒

Note: This is a cancelled date which will unlikely come to EN :<

More from this Collection: Gavin // Lucien // Victor

The date begins with MC commenting on how Kiro has been extremely busy lately. He hasn’t been picking up calls, and his messages have been short. MC also notes that although he appears normal on television, his eyes have become slightly dimmer.

MC recalls how Kiro has always been giving her strength whenever she’s feeling low, so she decides to do the same for him. She sends him a message:

MC: Miss Chips’ personalized mystery surprise, only applicable to Mr Kiro. Please claim this prize within the one hour time limit, or else it will expire~

After sending the message, I continue watching the television. However, I am entirely focused on my phone and alerted to every chime it makes.

Almost an hour passes and Kiro has not replied. While I’m hesitating whether or not to call him, my phone finally vibrates.

Kiro: This is the special prize winner Mr Kiro. I wish to ask Miss Chips – what exactly is my prize?

His tone is tinged with tiredness, but he still ends his sentences with a cheery lilt.

MC: It shall remain a secret. All you have to do is give me your time this Sunday!

Kiro is stunned for a moment, then a smile seeps into his voice.

Kiro: [laughs] When did you learn this trick of mine?

MC: Heh heh, I’m not telling you. Once you have accepted the prize, there’s no backing out!

Kiro: Yes, Mr Kiro promises Miss Chips.

MC: That’s great! I was even worried… ah, nothing….

Kiro: Worried about what? Were you anxious that I almost didn’t respond in time? I guessed correctly, didn’t I?

MC: Hmph, that’s because I didn’t want to waste my surprise.

Hearing this, Kiro chuckles from the other end of the line. The tiredness that was in his voice earlier has dissipated quite a bit.

MC: So it’s settled, I’ll come find you on Sunday.

Kiro: Even though it’s your surprise, how could I let you be the one to look for me? Don’t worry, I’ll slip away secretly and pick you up!

Before I hang up, Kiro suddenly mutters apologetically.

Kiro: Actually, my phone wasn’t by my side just now. It was only after I took a call that I saw your message. Were you very anxious while waiting?

MC: It’s all right. I was thinking that if you didn’t reply, I would tell you that the time limit got extended by another hour…

Kiro: [laughs] Do you know that hearing you say that makes me really happy? Even happier than hearing about the mystery surprise!

Kiro’s tone is gentle, and I can almost see a golden retriever from the corner of my eye, wagging its tail and smiling at me.

Kiro: All right, so it’s settled.

Hanging up the phone, I find myself smiling. Kiro has always been bringing me to his secret hide-outs to recharge my batteries. This time, it’s my turn.

MC has already planned how Sunday would go. Judging from Kiro’s busy schedule, he wouldn’t have had the time to go flower viewing. He also wouldn’t be able to go to public flower viewing places, considering his celebrity status.

MC: Or else, one wouldn’t be able to tell whether the crowd is there to see the flowers or Kiro.

Sunday arrives. While waiting for Kiro, MC recalls how she asked her father’s friend, Uncle Gu, for permission to use his personal greenhouse. When she was younger, she would visit the large greenhouse and her worries would melt away when surrounded by the gorgeous flowers. 

Even though she is unsure if Kiro would be interested in flower viewing, she thinks the change of scenery should allow him to relax.

While she is deep in thought, someone covers her eyes from behind.

The coolness of a ring brushes against my cheek, carrying the scent of its owner.

MC: Kiro…

?: Who is Kiro? I’m the special prize winner of your mystery surprise.

Pushing away the hands that are covering my eyes, I turn around to see Kiro wearing a pair of sunglasses.

He has deep eye bags, but his tired-looking expression has an insuppressible grin. I lean towards him.

MC: You look so fatigued. Did you not rest well?

Hearing this, Kiro furrows his eyebrows, his blinking eyes full of grievances.

Kiro: Yeah, I haven’t slept for three nights, and I feel so dizzy…

He says this slowly, and I hurriedly stand on my tiptoes, wanting to test his temperature.

MC: We shouldn’t have come out then… could it be a fever…

I look into Kiro’s clear eyes. He lets out a grin, looking a sly squirrel.

MC: You tricked me!

I purse my lips, my face flushing as I turn to the side.

Kiro hurriedly grabs on to my sleeve, a pitiful expression on his face.

Kiro: Okay okay I was wrong, don’t be angry, all right?

Kiro appears in my line of sight no matter which direction I turn my head. Looking at me with his bright eyes, my temper disappears in an instant.

MC: Fine, I’m no longer angry… Kiro is such a childish ghost.

Without a trace of anger or shock, Kiro continues smiling.

Kiro: Yes, I’m a childish ghost, and Miss Chips is the cutest~

MC: You’re shameless…

Kiro: I’m not. Isn’t it normal for a man to reveal his childish side to the person he likes? I even thought you heard about this saying before…

Kiro seems a little disappointed. He mutters, pulling me into the car.

I turn to look at him and see his side profile bathed in sunlight. The layer of gold makes his entire form look lively, fresh, and beautiful.

Now silent, Kiro’s face has a look of maturity that wasn’t there before. My heart suddenly does a flip, and I try not to think about what he said just now.

They finally reach Uncle Gu’s place, but it has been refurbished with additional features, so they have to walk through an eerie tree-lined pathway. MC gets goosebumps and nervously holds his hand.

Kiro: Eh?

MC: This is to prevent someone from running away suddenly.

Kiro: That wouldn’t happen. I’m not scared at all.

Trying to prove his point, Kiro tightens his grip on my hand, with an expression which says that he is unfazed by any circumstances.

We hold each other’s hands tight and walk forward step-by-step.

Kiro stands in front of me slightly, as though prepared to defend me at any moment.

His actions remind me of our experience at the haunted house, which he specially brought me to to prove his bravery. This time round, he doesn’t seem as afraid, though his palms are still sweating.

As we continue down the long pathway, Kiro seems to become increasingly relaxed. While he walks, he sniffs the air, just like an animal following the scent of food.

MC: What are you smelling?

Kiro: Dummy! I’m smelling the flowers of course.

MC: I don’t think I mentioned the greenhouse as being the mystery surprise. Can you really smell it?

Kiro: Of course! Also, I’ve confirmed that this place has a gigantic patch of Monet. I can already smell it!

MC: Monet? Isn’t he an artist?

Kiro: Heh heh looks like you don’t know! Here, follow me!

Saying this, Kiro pulls me into a run.

We run through the long corridor of vines, pass by a few patches of colorful flowers, and finally stand in front of a small wooden door with “Rosa chinensis” written on it.

Pointing at the sea of pink flowers beyond the wooden door, his eyes are filled with satisfaction.

Kiro: I was right! Like I said, there are Monets here.

MC: You’re saying that the Rosa chinesis is called Monet?

Kiro: Right! These pink flowers with yellow streaks are called… let me think! Yes, Claude Monet! They smell really good!

MC takes a closer look at the flowers and realizes that the flowers have a fruity smell. She can understand how Kiro could recognize them from afar.

MC: Are you very knowledgeable about the Rosa chinesis?

Kiro: Yes! When I was studying in France, I was a volunteer at the Botanic Gardens. Because some things happened, there was a period of time when I couldn’t attend school. I spent my entire day in the Botanic Gardens, and I learnt a lot about the Rosa chinesis. For example, how they differ from roses, the different parts of the Rosa chinesis, and the different types… only then did I realise that the simple-looking Rosa chinesis could also be so beautiful.

MC: It shares the same name as the prolific artist Monet though.

Kiro: Mmhmm, I originally thought that it got its name because it shared the same colours as Monet’s paintings. Later on, I discovered that it was far from that.

MC: Eh? Then what’s the reason?

Kiro: The Monet flower is extremely strong against diseases. It can’t be destroyed no matter what diseases plague it. Instead, it blooms even more beautifully. Monet was also such an artist. I saw his letter in the museum and learnt that he didn’t have a good life. He was sick and poor. Even so, he could bring people warmth. He taught me that sunlight is the most meaningful thing in the world, and that all of us have the ability to make choices.

Kiro keeps his eyes on the flowers, his expression lifting into a smile. It’s a different smile from before – a genuine smile that belongs to him, a smile stemming from his innermost heart.

I suddenly feel like I’ve been transported several years back, and I can see a younger Kiro standing amid the flowers with a brilliant smile.

When I return to my senses, Kiro’s big eyes are less than ten centimeters away from me.

I instinctively shrink backwards, but Kiro reaches out for my shoulder.

Kiro: Why are you dazing off while looking at my face? Be honest, what are you thinking about?

MC: I… I was just thinking about how you’re similar to Monet. You’re always bringing people brightness and warmth.

While saying this, Kiro continues staring at me, his pure eyes looking into my heart.

That person whose entire body exudes light, and is always giving me strength… he should have such pure eyes.

Kiro laughs, his eyes crinkling.

Kiro: Monet spent his life chasing after the light. That’s where we differ. I’m even better than him, because I have already found my light.

He blinks at me, as though he is keeping a major secret, waiting for me to probe further.

I am slightly stunned and am unsure how to respond.

Kiro: Why aren’t you asking me what my light is?

[Note: At this moment, Kiro has that “I’ve been flirting with you for the past year, thanks for noticing” face]

Looking at his expression, I laugh and play along with him.

Kiro responds with a sentence in French, and I don’t understand it.

MC: What did you say?

Kiro: I’ll tell you if you dance with me.

MC: How does that even work... you were the one who prompted me to ask that question…

Acting on his own whims, Kiro lifts up my left hand while hooking onto my right hand, pulling me into a dancing posture.

MC: …eh?

In contrast to my surprise, Kiro’s face is beaming.

His lips curve upwards, like a squirrel hugging a pinecone tightly and showing it off to its friends with pride.

His blue eyes are glimmering, as though they contain the entire galaxy.

In the center of that galaxy are two tiny faces, each of them belonging to me.

The atmosphere seems to have shifted suddenly.

MC: What did you just say?

Kiro: I said, dance with me.

MC: No, I’m referring to that thing you said in French…

Before I even finish, Kiro leans close to my ear and mutters something incredibly quickly.

Kiro: It’s too late.

MC: Huh? What do you mean by that?

Kiro: I just told you the meaning, so it’s too late to reject me now.

What…

My ears start reddening. Even though this is a private greenhouse, I’m slightly embarrassed to dance here.

MC: You-

Kiro: What about me?

MC: There isn’t any music so we can’t dance!

I instantly regret once the words slip out of my mouth.

Kiro: Music?

Kiro blinks.

With a sly grin, he starts humming a tune.

Only after five notes, I have already guessed what tune he is humming.

MC: …the doll and teddy bear dance?

[Note: I went to check and it’s an actual song bless his pure heart] 

Kiro: Yep. Don’t you think it’s similar to our current situation? Miss Chips~

He stretches out the way he says “Miss Chips”, ending with a smile in his voice.

MC: Am I the teddy bear? Or the doll?

Kiro: [laughs] Of course…

Kiro purposefully drags out his answer, leading me into a slightly inaccurate rendition of ballroom dancing. He twirls me around.

Kiro: …you are my Miss Chips!

I am tickled by his words. The embarrassment I felt earlier vanishes without a trace.

MC: Fine… don’t blame me if I step on you.

Kiro: Don’t worry, it wouldn’t happen!

Where does Kiro’s confidence come from?

I understand once I cooperate and start dancing with him.

MC: Stop, stop, I’m not dancing any longer! My head’s going to explode from the twirling. How is this considered dancing?

The reason why Kiro was so sure I wouldn’t step on him is because this isn’t the ballroom dancing I envisioned at all! Most of the time I end up getting twirled around by Kiro.

Kiro: Don’t you know that this is a sort of dance too?

With a smile, he leans close to my ear, saying this clearly. Several blurry Kiros appear in my vision.

Kiro: Don’t you find this blurry feeling amazing? It’s like how people go to bars to get drunk.

MC: So you’re feeling great now?

His words seem to take on a deeper meaning, but I’m unable to grasp them in my dizzy state.

Kiro: Mm, incredibly happy!

Kiro nods his head vigorously.

MC: All right. At least all that twirling didn’t go to waste.

The main purpose of today was to help Kiro relieve stress. So as long as he’s happy, that’s fine.

My pride doesn’t matter, and the dizziness doesn’t matter!

With this thought in mind, I let out a laugh.

Kiro: What are you laughing at?

I see three sets of Kiros reaching out to me with three hands. However, I can only feel one hand on my forehead, tidying my fringe.

MC: Because I get to see you being genuinely happy.

Kiro: You’re happy when you see me happy?

Kiro’s voice is laced with anticipation.

MC: Of course I’m happy. Normally, you’re the one taking me to your secret hide-outs to recharge my batteries and relieve stress. It’s as though you hold all the sunlight in the world. But I’ve never asked whether you ever feel down. This time round, let me be your rubbish bin and get rid of your troubles. I want to peel away all the grey clouds that are blocking the sun.

While I’m saying this, Kiro stands in front of me quietly, watching me with his head slightly lowered. His expression is serious, and his eyes are focused and deep.

He looks like Kiro on the stage, yet not exactly so.

MC: Hmm… even though I don’t know what you’re troubled by, or what pressure you’re under, I can sense that it isn’t because of a creative block. If you don’t want to talk about it, or if you can’t tell me-

Before the words “it’s okay” leave my lips, I am scooped into a pair of incredibly warm arms.

Caught off guard, I fall into Kiro’s embrace.

I hear Kiro’s heartbeats, like a tiny drum, fast and without rhythm.

My heart feels ticklish, as though thousands of ants have crawled into it.

I feel sunlight on the top of my head. It’s so warm.

It’s almost noon and Kiro has to return to work. Why does time pass by so quickly?

Kiro: MC, why are you so adorable! I am really, very very very happy today!

He speaks incredibly slowly. Every “very” seems to carry with it the solemnity of experience and time.

Kiro: MC, thank you.          

MC: A-are you happy today? Did you like my mystery surprise?

Kiro: Mm! I love it! Today is Kiro’s second happiest day.

MC: Which is your first happiest day then?

Kiro: Well… I will keep that a secret for now. I’ll definitely tell you in the future.

He puts a lot of weight on the word “definitely”, making me think that the day in question is somehow related to me.

MC: You still haven’t told me what you said in French…

Kiro hugs me even more tightly, and his voice travels to my ear.

Kiro: MC, you are my light.

🍯

Phone call: here

[kandoesfanfics-writes]

And I totally see 190 with mari and dick. But I've put in a lot of requests and i know each one takes a lot of your time and effort, so feel free to ignore me

This is my first attempt at Dickinette finished at like 2am. I hope I have served you all well.

-------------------

Dick was extremely worried about the petite young lady at the end of the bar.

The dark haired girl had been drinking by herself for about an hour, and the longer she sat there, the sadder she appeared. Her eyes were dim, focused on the drink in front of her. Her skin was flushed, most likely from the alcohol. She was wearing a pink babydoll dress that accented her delicate curves. She had white stockings and black ballet flats. Her hair was loose, cascading past her shoulders.

She looked so sad.

Dick sighed deeply side eyeing Wally and Roy. The two red-heads were laughing and downing their own drinks. It looked like those two were already well on their way to being wasted. Dick was a little irritated as it had been his best friends’ idea to take him out drinking. It was supposed to help him get over Starfire…

The Tameranean had broke up with Dick a few months ago. The man was mostly over it, but it still stung. They’d been dating since they were teenagers. They used to get along almost perfectly, but things had changed as they grew up. Dick was no longer Robin. Dick was Nightwing now, and with the new mantle came new problems.

Starfire herself was dealing with her own developing issues as a member of the Tamaranean royal family. Kor’i refused to abandon her responsibilities, and Dick could respect that. She knew Dick wouldn’t abandon his responsibilities either, so that spelt the end for their relationship. Kor’i told him she would always treasure their time together, and that he would always be one of her best friends.

She’d left for Tameran shortly afterword.

Wally and Roy had gotten tired of Dick’s moping, so they had dedicated the last few weeks to pulling him out of his funk. This was the fifth bar this week, and Dick was getting exasperated. He had let himself be sad, and now he was accepting what was and began to move on. He appreciated his friends for wanting to cheer him up, but Dick did need some alone time.

Which brought him back to the little lady at the end of the bar.

She was all alone and appeared to be intoxicated. She was vulnerable and attracting attention. A few men had bought her drinks, though she hadn’t touched them, ordering her own instead. Dick was relieved to see she still had that much sense, but the more she drank, the more men that gathered around her. It made Dick’s instincts scream at him to do something, anything, to help her.

Dick decided to go over and invite her to sit with them. If she turned that down, Dick would volunteer to order her an Uber to take her home. He just couldn’t leave her sitting at the end of the bar by herself with the wolves waiting to devour her. Dick noted that neither Roy nor Wally noticed him slipping away, so he grabbed his jacket and walked over to her.

“Hi,” he said, giving her a small smile. “...are you doing okay?”

The woman turned, and Dick felt his breath catch in his throat. Her eyes were a gorgeous slate grey filled with unshed tears. She had a cute button nose with a splattering of light freckles across the bridge. She was frowning, petal pink lips drawn thin as if she were trying not to burst out crying. He saw the tears begin to build up as she looked at him once before biting, “Do people go to a bar if they’re okay?”

Dick winced, but tried not to take it personally. She was clearly upset about something, and he was certain all the extra male attention wasn’t making her mood any better. She probably just wanted to be left alone to drown her sorrows in peace. Unfortunately for her, that wasn’t how Gotham worked. A pretty lady like her drinking alone could only spell disaster.

“Well, my two buddies are here, and their lives are most certainly fine,” he said, pointing a finger to the two intoxicated red-heads. “They dragged me here because they think I’m miserable.”

“Why would they think that?” she said, her accent coming out.

Huh, so she was French? That would explain why she didn’t seem to realize how dangerous Gotham was.

“My girlfriend and I broke up. We’d been dating since we were around fourteen,” Dick answered honestly. “Kor’i had family problems, and I had my own responsibilities. In the end, it just didn’t work out. I was sad for a little bit, but she was right. We couldn’t compromise...I just miss her. She’d been a constant presence in my life for the better part of seven years, after all.”

That seemed to reach the woman, who had now put her glass of wine down. She was no longer looking at him with hostility, but something else. It wasn’t a look of pity. Dick knew the difference between looks of pity and genuine empathy. The dark haired woman rubbed her arms before gesturing to the open seat next to her. She then smiled bitterly at him before sighing, “Love sucks, doesn’t it? My boyfriend never loved me for me. He cheated on me.”

Dick looked apologetic as he sat down next to her. He held out his hand and said, “Richard, it’s nice to meet you. My friends call me Dick.”

Her delicate hand reached out to grab his. Dick marveled at how small her fingers were in comparison to his. They were soft, but definitely did not lack strength. Her handshake was surprisingly firm for such a small woman.“Marinette,” she said. “I don’t have any friends.”

“I doubt that,” Dick replied. “Everyone has friends.”

“Not me.”

Dick lifted his hand to get the bartender’s attention. He ordered a glass of semi-dry red wine and took a sip.

“Like I said already, my buddies brought me here. The red-head who looks like he could toss a man is Roy. His adopted father and my adopted father are business rivals, so we hung out a lot growing up. The other red-head who’s giggling like a nut is Wally. He’s a real jokester, but he’s one of the most reliable friends I have,” he said. “I’m currently working at Wayne Enterprises, but I’m trying to get a different job.”

“Don’t like it there?” Marinette asked softly.

“...I had a fight with my adopted father,” he admitted with a shrug. “It’s his company…”

“So you don’t want to work there any more,” she said with a firm nod. “That’s understandable. I left Paris to get away.”

“Away from what?”

Marinette seemed to glance anxiously at him before tossing her wine glass back and chugging the contents. Once she was done, she began to tell him about her life in Paris. She started with explaining that her parents, while loving and supportive individuals, had given her freedom to the point of neglect as a child. She told him that she still loved her parents and knew they loved her, but that was the reason she’d had such a hard time asking them for help with things.

Marinette moved on to discuss how she’d had a few friends growing up as a child. She told him that she realized that she’d had fewer friends than she thought when a girl named Lila Rossi came to her lycee. The young woman went on to discuss how things had gotten terrible. Most of her friends had turned their back on her the second this Lila girl began spreading her lies. There had been only a handful of people who knew the girl was lying.

That had caused so much on strain on many of her relationships in which was only made worse by how much work Marinette was doing. Marinette had been her class’s president which was a lot of work. Her one friend had quit as her deputy after being pulled in by this Lila girl’s lies. This had left Marinette alone to do all of the work for her class.

“Not to mention all my commissions, things were goddamn nightmare,” Marinette said, quietly thanking the bartender for her new glass of wine. “Commissions? Are you an artist?” Dick asked.

Marinette seemed to light up at that.

“I’m actually a budding fashion designer!” she said brightly. “I’ve been doing it since I was young. I actually made the dress I’m wearing right now.”

Dick’s eyes scanned her dress more closely this time.

“That’s really impressive,” Dick said. “That looks like hand stitching! The embroidery on the neckline is gorgeous. Did you really sew this all by hand?”

Marinette nodded excitedly, telling Dick it had taken her only a few days to make. She went on to discuss how she’d been trying to establish her brand in the United States for a few months, but progress had been slow.

“I love designing and creating things,” Marinette said sweetly.

“Really? I’d love to see some more of your designs! Do you just design women’s dresses or do you make more?” he asked.

Marinette suddenly went very quiet. Her grip on her drink tightened before her eyes welled up with tears once again. The tears began to drip down her cheeks as her body began to tremble. She sniffed a few times before chugging the rest of her wine. It took everything in her not to slam the glass down on the counter as all the emotions she’d tried to suppress came rushing to the surface.

“...what did I do wrong?”

Dick felt himself start to panic as he saw the woman’s reaction. He hadn’t meant to make her cry! He was supposed to be making her feel better! He rushed to try and think of a way to change the subject when she asked her question. He watched in horror as she began to dissolve into tears, reaching out gently to touch her arm.

“...what did I do wrong? I did everything he’d asked of me. I was honest. I never cheated. I never—” she cried. “Why couldn’t he love me for me?”

The dark haired man gently scooched his chair closer to Marinette. He then wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders, pulling her close in a show of support. He listened to her cry, feeling his own anger stirring. He was enraged to think that her model would date her just because he figured out she was someone he looked up to! If he didn’t love Marinette as herself, why would he want to date her after learning she was a famous designer?

“Honestly, sounds like you didn’t do anything wrong,” Dick said quietly. “To me it simply sounds like this guy was a complete idiot who wouldn’t know a good, talented woman if one bit him in the ass.”

Marinette’s grey eyes darted to him, searching for any dishonesty. When she found none, she smiled weakly and thanked him for trying to make her feel better. Wiping her eyes, she told Dick that she was going to go home and sleep the alcohol off. As she moved to get up, Marinette wobbled unsteadily and had to grasp Dick for support.

“I think I may be slightly more drunk than I thought,” she whispered, her cheeks turning bright red.

Dick simply smiled at her before draping his coat over Marinette. He stood up and gently guided her away from the bar and out into the cool Gotham air. He noted how she shivered, pulling closer to him before mumbling, “Don’t like the cold.”

“C’mon Nettie, I’ll get you a ride home—”

“Don’t wanna go back.”

“Nettie—”

“He’s there.”

This made the man stop. The guy she was avoiding was at her place of residence? Did they live together? What was she going to do now? Marinette was clearly drunk and vulnerable. What would happen if she went back home and this douchebag was still there? It made Dick’s skin crawl, so he decided to choose the lesser of two evils.

He fished out his phone and dialed a number he was secretly hoping he’d never have to call again.  Dick nearly breathed out a sigh of relief when a welcomingly familiar voice answered the phone.

“...hey Alfred...it’s Dick. Is Bruce out?”

“Why yes, Master Dick. He took Jason out this evening.”

“...could you come pick us up? I ran into an old friend, and she got pretty drunk. I’m afraid to send her home by herself.”

“Of course, Master Dick. Shall I set up a room for you as well?”

Dick could hear the hopefulness in Alfred’s voice as he added that Jason would probably like to see him as well. Dick gritted his teeth but wasn’t able to answer before Marinette’s sweet voice asked him who Jason was. One he’d told her who Jason was, Marinette got a very firm look on her face.

“You should stay. This Bruce might be a big idiot, but the little boy has nothing to do with it. Are you really going to be mean to the little boy who looks up to you because you’re mad at someone else? Because that doesn’t seem right at all. What did little Jason ever do to you?”

He would have laughed if he hadn’t been so shocked. Marinette had been an inconsolable sobbing mess only moments before. Now she was spitting out wisdom like she was freaking Buddah. He had to admit she had a point though. His problem was solely with Bruce, and Jason didn’t have anything to do with it. Jason hadn’t done anything to warrant the kind of treatment Dick had been giving him.

“...I’ll stay, Alfred. Only for Jason. I refuse to talk to Bruce.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Master Dick. Jason could use the help of someone experienced in dealing with Master Bruce,” the relief was clear in his voice. “I’ll come get you, and then set up your rooms.”

“You’re experienced there too, you know?”

“Yes, Master Dick… but I’m not a young man, and I’m not Master Bruce’s son like you are. I firmly believe he’ll relate to you better.”

Dick mentally agreed, but thanked Alfred and hung up the phone. He turned his attention back to Marinette, whose grey eyes were watching him closely. She looked almost lost as if she didn’t know what to do now. He could see the anxiety coming back to her expression and quickly asked her what was wrong.

“Should I really come over if you’re having issues with him? I don’t want to make things worse—”

“Nettie, you’re fine. Just stick close, and I’ll keep you warm and safe until Alfred gets here. Then you can go to sleep in a safe place,” Dick said firmly. “I’ll work things out with Jason. Bruce is just being stubborn and refusing to admit he’s wrong. It’s enough to drive anyone crazy.”

Marinette’s drunken mind seemed to crash.

She could vaguely remember him using the nickname before, but it hadn’t hit her until just then. Dick was calling her Nettie. Dick had given her a nickname. Dick was offering her a safe place to stay. Dick was standing here, making sure she was safe and warm while his friends were still drinking inside. Dick had left his friends to see if she was okay…

Her face, already slightly flushed from the alcohol, got redder as she locked eyes with the enchanting man next to her. She’d made a mental note of him before, dark hair and blue eyes, but now she was looking at him closely. He had beautiful cheekbones and eyes that carried a mischievousness to them. A smile always seemed to be tugging at the corner of his mouth, and he was stronger than Marinette originally thought

He was muscular, but not in the way one who lifts a lot of weights would be. He had muscles more like… a dancer.

Marinette got so tangled up in her thoughts she didn’t notice the limo pull up beside them. It wasn’t until Dick began gently guiding her to the door that Marinette even realized the car was there. Time blurred for her after that as she let Dick take care of her. The last thing she’d be able to recall the next day was an elderly man showing her a room, and plopping herself onto the bed.

Dick had come to wake her up the next morning with some ibuprofen and water.

He’d smiled at her the same way he had when he greeted her at the bar. It still made her feel weak and brought a small smile of her own to her face. Dick had then talked to her about the previous night’s events, and what had happened. He told her not to worry about crashing at the manor as he himself hadn’t felt comfortable sending her back home. He then offered his assistance in either kicking her boyfriend out of her home or helping her relocate.

“Why would you do that?” she asked quietly. “Why do you even care?”

“Because I’m your friend, Nettie.”

“Why?”

“...because right now, we could both use a good friend,” Dick said softly. “One that listens to me instead of dragging me out to bars. One that tells me to shut up and man up when I’m wrong. You may not remember it, but you set me straight last night. I’m going to talk to Jason. Fighting with Bruce or not, he still adopted Jason which makes him my little brother. I shouldn’t take my anger out on him.”

Marinette’s eyes widened as she set the glass of water down beside her.

“I did that?” she murmured.

“Yeah, you did. You could also use someone who isn’t going to use you for money or fame. You seemed really nice, and it sounds like a lot of people took that for granted or abused it. That’s not fair to you,” he added. “So what do you say? Are we at least friends?”

As Dick held his hand out to Marinette, her face began to heat up. She managed to keep herself together long enough to shake his hand, a shy smile appearing on her face. She felt her heart thud in her chest as the man with sky-blue eyes smiled the most perfect smile at her.

Sure...they could be friends for now.

[theroomofreq]

Personality Before Punctuality: Chapter 2

James Potter plays in a band but spends his mornings in the bakery chatting up Lily Evans. Lily spends her week days selling pastries, but on weekends she goes to see James play guitar. 

The second part to my meet cute muggle au! 

Read on AO3

Lily flung open the door to The Hallows, her bag knocked on the door frame as her quick pace carried her into the bakery. 9:07, Okay not terribly late, she could work with that. Her morning walk had little to no distractions and after yesterday she figured she had better be more timely than usual. Lily blew her bangs out of her face as she looked up to find one of the primary bakers, Simon, engaged with a customer.

Yikes, Simon hated customers. Lily increased her pace as she made her way around the counter, her bag dropping un-ceremonially to the floor. She chanced an apologetic look at Simon before turning to the customer in front of her.

“Evans, have you tried this treacle tart?!”

James Potter had a mouthful of tart and a goofy grin that came with his question. 

Lily’s eyes roamed down his figure wondering how she had missed him. The first detail to notice was his hat, Potter had a large black bucket hat that fit snuggly on his head, the strap and buckle pulled tightly across his sharp jaw line. Apparently black was his theme today, as his long-sleeved shirt and trousers match his hat color.

 “Of course, Potter” Lily couldn’t hold back her grin as he shoveled another bite into his mouth “This week is especially good because Simon here made it. He always makes the best pastry crust” Lily placed a hand on Simon’s shoulder and hoped her honest compliment would get her out of being late this morning.

“Flattery will not excuse the tardiness Lily, but it doesn’t stop you from being my favorite” Simon gave her a small smile, which Lily counted as a win. “Wonderful to meet you James” 

“Likewise” Potter replied as Simon walked back into the kitchen. 

 Potter leaned up against the display case crossing his arms as he smirked down toward Lily. “I’m glad I caught you again.”

“At the bakery where I work? Yes, you’re very lucky to find me here.” She couldn’t hold back the sarcasm that dripped out of her mouth.

The way James rolled his eyes had an affectionate feel, “Oh come on, you know what I mean Evans. I didn’t know your schedule at all, this was really all I had.”

“So, what was your plan?” Lily said, her eyebrows quirked up, “Show up here every morning until I finally came in to work?”

James seemed to startle as he stood up from his relaxed position, his eyes went downcast as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Well yeah, actually that was the idea…” His eyes turned up at Lily with a bashful look.

The way his eyes locked on her resulted in Lily biting down on her lip as her cheeks flushed. Before she could reply the door chimed as another customer walked into the shop. James began to back away from the register and Lily, as his eyes wandered around the bakery.

“The table to your left has the best chairs” Lily mentioned, hoping that her invitation to stay would come across.

Potter’s eyes lit up as he made his way to where Lily suggested, walking backward toward the table with a lazy gate that had Lily captivated the whole time. Perhaps it was the way he rubbed his hands together or how held her gaze the entire time, regardless Lily loved what an all-black look did for James Potter.  

Regrettably, Lily tore her eyes away from him and back to the latest customer to enter The Hallows.

 ----

As a Wednesday morning, the bakery wasn’t terribly busy, but there was a steady stream of people who came in to buy pastries. She knew most everyone that came in, as she had a good grasp on who the regulars were and what they would buy. Often, she found herself sending glances toward James, who sat alone at his table writing away in a notebook he had pulled from his back pocket. 

She was grateful he had chosen to sit with his back to the front door, he was less likely to be noticed this way, especially because his stag tattoo was facing the wall not the open shop. Well that, and the obvious fact that she had a brilliant view of him as he focused on his writing, rolled up the sleeves on his shirt, or even shot glances at Lily.

There was something about James Potter that made her believe that he did everything at 100%. Maybe it was the way his eyes lit up as he scrawled across the page, never stopping for a moment as rotated his book to add notes or circle a word. It could’ve been the way that she caught him looking at her, his deep eyes latching on to her movements as she did her job. Whenever she caught him staring (which was very often) he didn’t ever look away, his smile just got brighter as he winked or waved in her direction. It might’ve even been the way he kept coming up and buying more sweets.

Yes, it was definitely the sweets. He seemed hell bent on trying every item available at the bakery. The fifth time he sauntered up to the register Lily rolled her eyes, “You’re going to make yourself sick Potter”

“Probably, but I just can’t help myself around sweet things.” James said as he quite obviously looked Lily up and down with a smirk. “Meaning…”

“Potter. I know” Lily interrupted. “I know what you mean. You’ve been gawking at me for hours; you are anything but subtle.”

“You’re one to talk red” James said, propping his elbow up on the counter, “I’ve caught you sending eyes my way many a time as well.” He rested his chin on his hand while winking at Lily. 

“Right. I’m fit, you’re fit. Good to know we are on the same page here. Now get back to your table, my break is in an hour.”

“Anything for you love.”

---

“Do you work at all the rest of the week?” James asked her between bites of bread.

“Tomorrow evening and Sunday” Lily told him.

She ripped off another chunk of bread from the loaf they were sharing. Lily decided to spend her break sitting with James as he reviewed his favorite sweets and asked her about her schedule. 

“Brill, I uh, wanted to ask if you would come to my show on Friday night” The smile he tacked on at the end was hopeful.

“I didn’t know you had a show this week? I haven’t heard anything about it- where are you playing?”

“Oh well, yes, it is a bit of a secret. Sirius’ idea really” He gestured with his hands in an attempt to explain. “Our lead singer, my best mate he’s got a real flair for the dramatic that one. He convinced us to play at one of the places that first gave us a shot. Something about taking care of the little guys and standing up to the man. We are all pretty passionate about it now”

“Yeah, alright I’d love to.”

“Yeah, okay great actually, that’s excellent!” James gave her a megawatt grin. He looked down toward his notebook again and began rapidly flipping through the pages. Finally, he stopped on a page and ripped it out before passing it across the table towards Lily.

The note seemed distinctly James and Lily wasn’t really sure what that meant, she didn’t really even know this man all that well, but the page felt like James Potter. In the middle of the page was a hand drawn logo of a bar, The Hogs Head, with a large arrow that pointed to the time he would be playing. The time was circled multiple times with a small note that said, “Be punctual Evans”.

Across the top of the page was her name, written in a cursive script that was far prettier than she had ever penned her own name in. Lily’s eyes lingered a long time around her name and the drawing right beside it. James had drawn a small portrait of Lily laughing, her nose was scrunched close to her eyes which seemed brighter than usual. It was incredible what he had drawn of her with a simple black marker, the lines on her face and her freckles were expertly drawn, Lily’s breath caught as she looked up at James. He was staring intensely at her through his dark eye lashes, slowly his lips pulled to the side in a very signature smirk that Lily simply couldn’t handle looking at for too long. 

Lily shook her head trying to throw out that smirk, she knew she was in deep trouble when she had to pinch her leg before responding to James, “I didn’t know you were such an artist.”

“Nah, ‘m not. The gorgeous things in life end up drawing themselves” Potter spent a long time searching her flushed face before continuing, “I actually have to run to sound checks now, but trust me, I can’t wait to see you Friday.”

He reached across the table and gave her hand a tight squeeze before standing and walking out the door. Lily watched him go wondering how the way he had touched her so briefly had turned her legs to jelly. 

 ----

“Damn Lils, that Potter bloke won’t even know what a guitar is much less be able to play one once he sees you.”

Lily flashed a smile into the mirror towards her best friend, “You don’t think it’s too much do you?” 

“Absolutely not, we didn’t spend 2 hours trying on outfits for you to start second guessing how hot you are” Marlene let out a low whistle to prove her point.

Lily swatted at her flatmate, it did not take her that long to get ready- but even if it did, it was worth it. She’d decided to wear favorite black crop top which rested just above the smallest sliver of skin before her skirt pulled tightly across her figure hitting just about mid-thigh. Her favorite sheer tights matched her black Doc Martens perfectly and to top it all off she’d left her hair loose, Lily guessed Marlene was right, she was pretty damn hot.

Lily looked in the mirror one last time, she was ready to blow James Potter away.

---

Marlene pushed open the doors to the small venue, the outside made it look small, but it was actually pretty large on the inside. The lights were dimmed, and the crowds filled the room with a low roar, the place had an air of grunge to it. Lily glanced down at her watch, she and Marlene had showed up at the exact time Potter had written down for her, but there was no one on the small make-shift stage.

“Looks like that Potter bloke has you pegged already,” Marlene laughed as she pointed to a sign to the left of the stage.

“The Marauders” the messy scrawl on the sign read, “Tonight at 8”

It was 7:30. Potter must’ve given her an earlier time to make sure she wouldn’t be late. Lily rolled her eyes at her best friend, if James really knew her, he would know she wouldn’t dare to be late to see him. 

When The Marauders walked on stage Lily’s eyes locked on James, she felt a twinge of annoyance as he sauntered out waving at the crowd. It wasn’t entirely fair for someone to be that good looking, his white long sleeve contrasted perfectly with his black bottoms and shoes. As he stepped up to his mic he pushed up the sleeve on his right arm before resting it across the strings of his guitar.

 Honestly, she couldn’t bring herself to look at the rest of the band, the guitarist was just too mesmerizing. Was she obsessed with him? Probably. Was her heart rate going through the roof for reasons other than seeing a really good band? Definitely. Was she going to spend the rest of her night shamelessly staring at James Potter? Absolutely.

 As Lily came to terms with how quickly this man had taken over her thoughts the past few days, James turned around to walk to the back of the stage. The sandy-haired drummer was talking animatedly with the shaggy haired singer, for some reason Lily couldn’t quite remember their names. Potter threw his arm over the singer taking a moment to nod at the flustered drummer before pulling away a now red-faced front man. Potter gave his friend a final shove toward the forward microphone and the set list began.

There’s something about seeing a band play live that is exciting, the energy from the crowd is thrilling, the band going all out while playing, and the way your emotions come in waves. But, seeing a band that you love? Exhilarating. The long lead up before the song begins, singing along to your favorite song, the vibe of hearing a chorus live for the first time, all of it is magic. 

Lily was convinced that none of these feelings held a candle to seeing James Potter play. His entire body thrummed with the music, it wasn’t just his foot keeping pace, but his whole body moving as he played. The guitarist was emotionally involved in every note he played, the way his eyes followed his fingers, and how he strummed the chords perfectly in time. The smirk on his face was absolutely startling when he came in with a powerful riff or ran through a difficult set of chords. Lily decided that watching James perform was enthralling. 

As The Marauders lead singer said their goodbyes Lily finally remembered his name, Sirius Black, it wasn’t that hard to remember now that she wasn’t distracted by Potter’s arse. The moment Sirius waved goodnight, Potter placed his guitar on his stand and jumped off the front of the stage. 

Lily watched him weave through the crowd as he was stopped by many individuals for a photo or signature. Her attention was pulled from Potter as Marlene placed a hand on her arm.  

“Lils, are you okay if I head out now?” Marlene asked the question timidly, “I promised Dorcas I would stop by after the show.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I didn’t know you were seeing her again?” Lily was surprised her friend had kept the news from her, she was usually so open about her latest relationships

“It’s new and I don’t know,” Marlene shrugged, “I didn’t want to jinx it or anything.” 

Lily shook her head at her outgoing friend now turned shy at the thought of Dorcas. “Get going then, I’m sure she is waiting for you.” 

“Thanks Lils,” Marlene said as she pulled the redhead in for a hug, “Maybe we will both get a bit lucky tonight.” 

Ahh, there was her friend. Marlene practically ran out the front doors toward her new girlfriend. Lily turned her eyes back to the crowd searching for Potter, before she could locate him someone stepped right in front of her path blocking her view. 

“You’ve created a lot of grief for me Evans.” Sirius Black stood cooly in front of Lily, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked evenly at her. 

“And what would that be Black?” Lily crossed her arms challenging whatever Black was about to go on about. 

“You’ve driven this fool out of his mind the last few days” Black jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward Potter who walked up next to him. “All I’ve heard the last bit is all about Lily Evans, how witty and gorgeous you are. It is enough to turn me completely mental.” Sirius had a smirk on his face, but Potter looked warily at his friend. 

“I’d be happy to foot the bill for any harm my wit and or beauty has caused you.” 

Potter’s jaw dropped at Lily's quip while Sirius threw his arm around his mate and cackled. “I can see why you’ve been tracing her name every night” Sirius said as he used his other hand to pat James’ chest, “See you at home mate.” 

Sirius untangled himself from a now flustered James and turned to Lily, “Evans, it’s been more of a pleasure than you realize.” With a final wink sent to Lily, Sirius walked off into the crowd. 

“Tracing my name?” Lily posed the question while looking toward his left arm, the sleeve still flush with his wrist, whereas the other sleeve was racked up to his elbow. 

“Well, err,” the flush across his face deepened as James pushed up the sleeve to reveal the arm that Lily had signed a number of days ago. The writing was dark and thick, as if she had written it moments ago. 

“I just really liked the mark you left on me, and I didn’t want to lose it. So I, err, I’ve been tracing it over every night, so it stays with me.” He looked up at her with hopeful eyes. 

“Who knew you were such a softie Potter?” 

“Only around you Evans.” He took a step forward and grabbed her hand, “Thank you for coming, did you have a good time?”

“It was incredible! You were incredible!” Lily felt her face light up as she talked about the concert, “That last song was unreal, I loved where you came in at the end!” 

“Thanks, I wrote the song but it was Remus who came up with that section, he’s the musical genius of the four of us.” 

Potter began leading her towards the exit as he continued on about the song. He held tight to her hand as he walked her out the front doors, his other hand gesturing wildly as he explained the underlying tones of Pete’s keyboard and how it meshed with his chords. 

He stopped just outside of the bar before standing directly in front of her, his smile was reaching across his entire face as he took her in. “Evans you look stunning tonight.” His eyes roamed down her legs before returning to her freckled face. 

“Almost as good as my Hallows apron right?” Lily’s voice came out a bit breathier than usual. 

“Just about” 

James reached out toward her, allowing the crimson locks to run through his fingers as he looked intently at her. Lily struggled to swallow as his eyes ran across her face, his hand tucked her hair behind her shoulder before running down her arm. Shivers ran after his hand until he secured it against her own, pulling her a step closer to his body. 

“Listen, Evans, The boys and I always used to go back to the flat and just hang around after we played here. In the spirit of nostalgia we’re going to be doing it again, and I was hoping you’d come along tonight?” The hopeful smirk was back on his face as he looked down at her. 

“Lead the way Potter.” 

Lily let a smile break across her face as James mirrored her emotion, with a tug on her hand he pulled her alongside him into the night.

[birdwonder]

just thought of the idea of Rohan using his stand on reader and seeing on their page they have a big crush on josuke so Rohan either teases them or helps them get together. i think the idea is cute

|| i am SO sorry this took a while longer than i usually take to write. my holiday has left me without a computer so writing long stories takes forever on a phone but i hope these 3,000 words make up for it :,) its 3am so i doubt i editted properly so ill go through it again tomorrow

Josuke Higashikata | Rohan’s Help / Confession

You and Rohan have been friends for a short time. Less than a year to be honest, and yet you two felt like you were as thick as thieves — an unstoppable duo when it came to your friendship. Both of you complimented each other so well, you being able to improve Rohan’s social skills and how he treated others, and Rohan had been making progress with you to be more confident. A kind yet self-loathing highschool student who is best friends with a prideful and stuck up manga artist, who would have thought?

In the small amount of time you two have known each other, you both have been able to pick on small quirks you had and tell-tale signs of your moods. For example, you were currently leaning on the side of Rohan’s desk as he scribbled away on a piece of paper, desperately trying to figure out a new and inventive pose for his next manga page. Your blank, dull eyes staring into the distance and lack of encouraging comments was all Rohan needed to know that something was up with you. Of course, he wasn’t the best at comfort, not when it’s so early into his progress of becoming a better person, so jumping straight to sympathy and questions was not his go-to plan.

“So, what do you think so far?” Rohan questioned with hope, holding up his sketch book with one hand and gesturing towards it with another, hoping that your thoughts on his work would be at least distracting enough from whatever was plaguing your mind. Unfortunately, you only glanced towards the sheet of stunning, detailed figures and hummed halfheartedly before returning to look at absolutely nothing with your chin pressed into the centre of your palm.

Groaning, the artist tore out the page dramatically to then scrunch it up into a tight paper ball, throwing it into the trash-can beside him in a small fit of annoyance. “Right then,” he burst out abruptly, two hands slamming on his desk and his chair scraping backwards as he got up to emphasis his change in mood, “you’re going to tell me what’s wrong right now because right now I can NOT figure out how to draw this next panel, and I can’t do it when you’re sitting here like a... a...”

“Like a what?” You piped up, one brow quirked up which gave you an atypically fed up expression, one so cold it almost sent shivers down Rohan’s spine.

“Like a killjoy!” He finally said, huffing and puffing his cheeks out. “You’re just sitting there, staring like a corpse and I’m actually trying to talk to you!”

Then, you faltered. Your tightly pressed lips tilted downwards and your brows lowered, returning your expression to it’s well known gentle and kind look, something Rohan had greatly missed the last hour or so. “Oh, I’m sorry Rohan, it’s just, oh never mind.” You mumble your last words, a strange pink tint along your cheeks that didn’t go unnoticed by the man who valued every single detail he saw.

Rohan then grabbed your shoulders firmly, forcing you to turn and look at him, his eyes narrowed with an intense stare boring into your own pupils. “[F/N], I refuse to take that as an answer, so let’s try again shall we? What. Is. The matter?”

You gulped a little, sucking in your breath while debating whether or not to tell your trusted companion about the problem that ridiculed you or not. You opted no. With a shake of your head, you gave an apologetic look and your frown only went deeper, “sorry Rohan, it’s really stupid and I just don’t want to say it. I mean, it can’t be solved anyways, so I’m sure I’ll get over it soon!” You placed a hand on his shoulder and forced yourself to smile a little, your heart swelling with some joy over the fact Rohan had clearly grown as a person - showing that he cared for the problems that bedevilled you was one large step from where he was when you first met. “Thank you though, really.”

Your gratitude and certainty may have been enough to rest anyone else’s soul, but not Rohan’s. He simply would not take ‘no’ for an answer. Sighing, he released his grip on you, giving you the message that he wasn’t going to pry anymore until he spoke, “I didn’t want to resort to this but you leave me no choice.”

Before you could question his words a familiar cry of “Heaven’s Door,” was yelled and you felt your body slowly feel lighter, almost weightless as you watched the skin on your face and arms unfold to reveal small prints of words, words you knew revealed everything there was to know about [F/N] [L/N].

Resistance was futile as you struggled to shift away from Rohan’s approaching form, the back of the chair and the wall behind you trapping you inbetween, prayers being your only tactic of getting out of the hectic situation. “Now let’s see,” Rohan hummed, taking a gentle hold of the pages attached to your face between his thumb and index finger, his eyes scanning each word carefully as though missing a single one would be detrimental.

“Rohan, please don’t,” you begged, fear arising in you from the idea that he would find out the cause of your sullen mood. Fear that was quickly picked up on.

“[F/N] [L/N], sixteen years old... Birthday is... Ah, here we are, something more modern. Cereal for breakfast, and currently stressing over the idea that Josuke Higashikata won’t like her...” Rohan’s out loud reading soon quietened and the look he gave you could only be summarised to ‘really?’

Once he pulled away from you, Heaven’s Door effects subsided and your skin was no longer detached from you. You sighed with relief that you were no longer in such a vulnerable state, calm until you began to lightly pound your fists against Rohan’s chest, unable to actually hurt him since you didn’t have to heart to. “Rohan, that was private information, how could you?!”

Rohan clicked his tongue, using only a finger to press against your forehead to push you away. The perks of you being so docile was getting you to stop any hint of aggression was easier than reciting the alphabet.

“I did it for you so I could help you with your problem!” He argued in attempt to defend himself and cringed slightly, speaking with venom in his voice. “How was I supposed to know that you were so worked up over that idiot and not something sensible?”

“He is not an idiot!” You retorted since you hated whenever either Rohan or Josuke insulted each other. Those two really had the potential to be friends with each other, they just never let it work. Regardless, your main concern was the fact your true feelings were revealed and in the worst possible way. You hadn’t meant for anyone to find out about how you feel, not when you were for sure that it wouldn’t matter in the end.

Josuke ... he was amazing. Friendly, strong, funny and whenever he looked with you with those kind eyes and a smile on his plush lips, your heart stopped only to restart beating 1000 beats per minute. You were certain that he was the most perfect person you had ever met, and every memory with him was greatly treasured.

Though you were almost certain he didn’t feel the same. You felt so small compared to him, figuratively that is, and everything he was good at, you seemed to fail at. Confidence, strength, styling the perfect pompadour; you couldn’t even compare to him, even if these all seemed like the most insignificant aspects ever. So, why would he want to be with someone who couldn’t reach his standards ? He wouldn’t.

Your internal self deprecation was silently evident to Rohan as you began to nibble on the bottom of your lip, dejectedly looking down like a lost puppy. No way was he going to let you keep that up, not when he had announced you as a friend to himself and actually cared about how you felt.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Rohan groaned at what he was about to do although he knew it was going to be worth it if it meant you weren’t ruining your hang out times anymore. “Alright, we’re going to make you confess to Josuke.” He declared, catching you off guard, and you weren’t able to even question him as a single finger was suddenly pressed upon your lips, sealing your mouth shut with one simple movement.

“Listen and remember this well, [F/N], you are perfect the way you are and as much as I would hate to see Josuke gain anything he doesn’t deserve,” he paused to retract his hand from your face and instead ruffled your hair, treating you like a younger sibling for a second, “I know being with him would make you happy, so I’m going to help you confess your entirely questionable and possibly delusional love for that delinquent.”

You blinked up at Rohan a few times, mouth agape. There was no way that this was happening, just who was this guy and where was the real manga artist you knew?

“Rohan, I appreciate you wanting to help me, I really do, but there’s no need! It’s a lost cause, let’s just get back to what we were doing before - poses right?” Your attempt to change the subject was quickly brushed off like dust on Rohan’s shoulder when he pinched your nose, an audible ‘ow’ squeaking from you.

Your resistance to the situation was irking Rohan to no end, his drive only stepping on the gas each time you tried to refuse his assistance. There was no way he was going to let you suffer in silence. Besides, if he helped two young, dumb and lovesick teens get together then maybe he could have some insight on how to work around the more romantic scenes of his manga, if he was to ever implement them.

“I’m not taking no for an answer. This is going to happen and you’re going to thank me for it,” the green hair male stated, eyes heavily trained onto you. You gulped.

You really didn’t know where this was going to go.

——

A band of raging drums had surely replaced your heart.

The hammering sound of sticks against percussion instruments was practically akin to the violent, frantic rhythm that pounded against your chest with the diagnosis resulting to be nervousness.

You sucked in your breath and released the built up carbon dioxide by muttering words of encouragement that Rohan had taught you to rehearse to yourself in case of situations like this. Ironically, he was the one who had put you in this nervous wreck state. His vow to have you confess to Josuke had stuck through pretty solidly leaving you in a cute outfit you definitely could not have afford on your lonesome, [Thank you Rohan.] and standing in front of your crush’s door.

Gulping, you began to hype yourself up.

‘I can do this! I can totally do this. No problems here, none at all!’ The repeated phrases were practically a religious mantra at this point; if you were to even dare forget a single one you’re certain life would be a living Hell. Well your stresses shouldn’t matter anymore, you were here now. Just knock. Knock and say what’s on your mind!

The unremitting worries failed to cease however , eating at your brain like parasites that were only starting to leave once you gathered enough courage and balled your hand into a fist, rapped against the wooden door.

It took less than a minute for the door to be unlocked and opened, revealing the tall, well built figure of the one and only - Josuke. For some reason you felt as though none of this actually happening right there and then, like it was some dream or even a nightmare you were going to wake up from any second. You quickly rubbed your eyes to see if that was true. When you opened them, he was still there, his usual stylised school uniform replaced with a regular white t-shirt and dark blue jeans. It wasn’t an unwelcome look but certainly threw you off for a second seeing as it was rare to see him wear anything other than his uniform.

“[F/N], hey!” He greeted,his eyes seeming to light up at the sight of you while a hand gripped the door frame, “didn’t think it’d be you at the door. What’s up?”

The moment he smiled at you, you knew that you had to this. How he instantly had made you feel relaxed would have seemed impossible to you five minutes ago, now you felt as though things would go perfectly. If not for the persistent nagging voice in the back of your head.

“Hi Josuke! I was hoping that I could maybe uhm, talk to you! About something that is. Something really important.” Your wavering voice had caused some concern to flash in Josuke’s eyes; the way he looked down at you with such a caring expression made you want to hide your face into a pillow and squeal.

He responded easily with, “oh sure, is everything alright?” Really, you weren’t even sure if things were alright or if they were going to be at all.

You doubts rose up again and a jumbled ball of words was suddenly caught in your throat, countless words and ways to say your thoughts conjuring up but not a single thing is said. If only you had more confidence — Rohan had spent so long trying to get you to perfect your confession and despite all that effort, you were still struggling.

Glancing down, you noticed that your fingers were a plain sign of your awkwardness. They constantly switched from fiddling with the fabric of your outfit to thumbs twiddling with each other, neither things helping you in the end.

“[F/N]...? You don’t look like your usual self, where’s that cute smile of your’s, huh?”

Oh god, did he just call your smile ‘cute’? Did that just make talking even harder or ten times easier? This boy was going to be the death of you!

Teeth lightly nibbled on your low lip as you argued in your head what to do. You really don’t know if you could ever have the courage to even approach him like this, let alone think about asking him out. Besides, all of Rohan’s efforts would go to waste.

“Josuke!” The sudden change of your volume had clearly surprised the teenager, his brows raising. “I— I have something serious to tell you and I’m sorry for making it so weird so far, it’s just really hard to get through what I want to say.”

Facing him was just too much. You couldn’t handle the idea of looking up to see an uncomfortable, angered, disgusted or any expression that would send you hurdling down a pit of regret. Instead, you stared down at the ground although you paid no real attention to it, your hand clutching at the clothing over your heart, almost as though you were trying to steady the rapid beating drums within your ribcage.

Taking in a deep breath, you continue, “I’m not the best at being outgoing or confident, and as my friend I know you know that, and you’re the exact opposite! You’re bold and kind to everyone and everything about you is incredible. Saying this I think I fully realised why I lo—.”

Again, the words are caught in your throat and you’re visibly struggling, almost choking on what you want to say. None of it goes unnoticed by Josuke, who had been initially taken back by the praise and tone you were using. His smile quickly returned when things became obvious to him, much softer and sweeter than before, his plush lips turning upward all thanks to your adorable stuttering.

He reached out with a large and surprisingly softer than you would have guessed hand, his palm resting against your cheek as he guided you to look up at him with both your eyes staring into each other’s.

“Do you want to come inside?”

The question was short and simple though it still took some time to process. You made a small, questioning ‘eh’ sound to which Josuke laughed at.

“You don’t have to stress so much, whatever you’re going to say I’m sure I’m going to like hearing,” he told you, stepping to the side so that you now had room to enter his house, a hand gesturing for you to come inside. “Maybe things would be easier if we had something to drink? My mum’s not home so we can watch a movie too!”

You had no idea how things got to this but you didn’t want to ask. If what Josuke said was true and that he was really going to like whatever you said then, why rush? It was probably better to wait for when the atmosphere was much more relaxed anyways. Things just seemed more right that way. The relationship between you and Josuke were always so casual so it was best to confess just like that. He was a serious God send to be so nice and understanding.

You mouthed a ‘thank you’ before walking through the door with small pep in your step and butterflies swarming in a welcomed fashion in your stomach. Josuke followed you, closing the door behind him as the two of you started to strike up a conversation about your week and what movie the two of you wanted to watch, every worry and care flying free and becoming lost in the sky.

From across the street stood a smiling manga artist, ready to walk home with nothing but pride in his heart for his shy and growing friend. All he really had left to worry about was whether or not Josuke would treat you right.

[artificialqueens]

When We Went From Friends to This, Part 1: Week 1 (Branjie) - Writworm42

A/N: Fic summary: At the start of their first year of college, roomies Brooke and Vanessa have to quarantine together for two weeks. Fourteen days is a lot of time to bond, but it’s also a lot of time for things to get complicated.

For the lovely Ortega–merry super belated Christmas <3 Thank you Holtz for betaing & suggesting a song for the title, Bean for answering my questions about whether UK stereotypes are true, and Ortega for being patient fdhsjkf

Title from Paper Rings by Taylor Swift

TW for implied weed use

Day 1

“I still can’t believe you gotta go in-person to all these classes, you sure there ain’t a Zoom option?”

Vanessa snorts, and she’s pretty sure that Silky can hear her roll her eyes on the other end of the line. “For dance majors? Bitch, you know that ain’t gonna work.”

But Silky is too stubborn to be fazed by common sense. Instead, her voice gets a little more urgent. “We’re only first year. Start out with something that doesn’t need to be done in-person, then switch majors to dance once this is all over. C’mon, I can’t have my bestie dying Miss ‘Rona here!”

“Christ, you sound like my mom.” Vanessa huffs. “Look, the uni is being very careful, okay? Why else do you think I gotta quarantine for two weeks ahead of the start of term? Plus all clubs have been suspended and meals and showers are booked with time slots for each room. I’m literally seeing no one except the people in my classes and the bitch I’m sleeping next to.”

“But—“

“Listen, I’m at the dorm now, so I gotta go. I’ll call you later, alright?”

“Bye.” Silky’s begrudging send-off brings a flash of guilt to Vanessa’s chest, but only for a moment. Pushing her feelings aside, she hip-checks the door to the dorm building, trying to make her way inside without disrupting the large box she’s holding with one arm or the suitcase she’s trailing behind her with the other.

“Hi, I’m Vanessa Mateo, I think I’m supposed to be room 96?”

The suspiciously stoned-looking guy at the front desk barely looks up from the computer as he slides the keycard across his desk, and at first, Vanessa hovers, waiting for him to launch into a spiel about rules, but a moment passes without him saying anything, so she surges on. The building is a bit of a maze, its cement walls cold and drab despite the colourful posters plastered across it in a desperate attempt to make it more hospitable. By the time she finally reaches her room, she’s almost grateful that she’ll have to stay in it 24/7, given the impression the building and staff have left so far. No matter, though, right now, all she wants is to put down what she’s carrying and collapse onto her bed.

She shifts uncomfortably for a moment, trying to balance her box while also maneuvering her card towards the keypad, but the effort is unsuccessful–when she finally manages to tap the card, she’s met with another obstacle, having to actually open the door without any free arms.

It’s probably not the best impression to kick the door open and promptly drop almost all of your stuff before falling on top of it. Scratch that, it’s definitely not the best impression. Especially when Vanessa looks up at the owner of the voice that’s holding back laughter, asking if she needs help in a soft, calm twang.

Her roommate is tall, blonde, and nothing short of gorgeous. And even as she makes a motion as simple as offering a hand, Vanessa can tell that this girl is the picture of poise and grace.

“What’s your name?” The girl watches with piercing eyes as Vanessa dusts herself off, fighting off a fierce blush as she straightens up and catches her breath.

“Vanessa, but my friends call me Vanjie.” She extends a hand again, and this time, the girl seems rather shy as she takes it, nervously brushing a piece of hair behind her ear.

Huh.

“Nice to meet you, Vanessa. I’m Brooke.”

Day 2

Brooke, as it turns out, is the polar opposite of Vanessa–quiet and reserved, so introverted that Vanessa has to wrestle information out of her. What Vanessa learns about her is interesting - she’s a dance major too, she’s from Toronto, she decided to study here because she wants RAD training as well as to get trained in other styles. She plans to minor in costume design, having an affinity for and attraction to any pattern that involves leather or lace (a kinky detail that Vanessa, much to her shame and embarrassment, files away hungrily). She has two cats back home, Apollo and Henry, that she misses terribly. Everything else Vanessa knows, though, had to be acquired sneakily over their first night together, more observation and speculation than actually asking. Like how Brooke must be a fan of Schitt’s Creek , given that she put out a ‘ fold in the cheese ’ sign on her desk. Or how Lana is probably her favourite artist, because she has a weird habit of not checking if her air pods are actually connected to the school’s shitty bluetooth network and it’s always the first couple notes of Summertime Sadness that play from her laptop before she catches her mistake. Or how her ass is one of the best Vanessa’s ever seen, because Brooke has no shame changing in front of her–

She strikes that part from her mind almost as quickly as she thinks it in the first place. The important thing is, she’s got to spend two weeks with only Brooke to keep her company, and if they stay in this silence, it’s going to get very awkward very soon.

“So… How d’you like Scotland so far?” Vanessa starts, grimacing internally at how stupid the question sounds. But Brooke doesn’t seem to mind; in fact, she smiles kindly as she looks up from her computer, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear again.

“To be honest, I haven’t really seen much of it… Pretty much came right here after I came off the plane.” Her smile turns apologetic as her face flushes pink, clearly self-conscious about the lacklustre answer. That’s okay, though; Vanessa can still work with it.

“Probably a long flight, huh? What’d you do to keep yourself entertained? Or are you a plane sleeper?” Vanessa adds with a teasing grin, and much to her delight, Brooke laughs.

“Nah, I can never sleep on planes. Unless I knock myself out with Gravol or something, at least.” Brooke chuckles, giving a small wink. “I just read a bit, then the airline showed The Notebook, so I watched that.”

“I love that movie!” Vanessa gasps, “I swear I’ve probably seen it, like, three thousand times. It’s just so–”

“Romantic!” Brooke finishes. “The poor guy next to me must have hated me for all the crying I did.”

Her eyes are alight with excitement, and Vanessa can’t help but pick up on it, because finally , the perfect topic, and Brooke likes Vanessa’s favourite movie, and maybe she likes other stuff that Vanessa likes, and they can talk about that together, and–

“So what’s your favourite scene?” Brooke asks eagerly, and Vanessa claps her hands over her face.

“That’s the worst question to ask me, bitch!” Vanessa groans, but grins behind her hands when Brooke laughs, a string of apologies flowing between giggles.

“Sorry, sorry, I should’ve known.” Brooke puts her hands up in mock surrender. “Too many to choose, right?”

“Right.” Vanessa giggles a little too. “Although…” she brings herself up on her elbows as soon as the idea hits her, and for some reason, her heart skips a beat as she formulates the question, a rare flash of nerves hitting her square in the chest.

“Maybe a rewatch would be a good reminder?” Before she can verbalize what she’s thinking, Brooke beats her to the question, blushing again and chewing on her lip.

It’s cute, how shy she is, and Vanessa makes a mental note that she’ll have to help her new roomie break herself of those habits.

“Yeah, lets.” Vanessa smiles warmly, sliding off her bed to grab her laptop from her desk. “Here, we can use my computer.”

She’s only just grabbed the computer and turned around when she falters, realizing with a sinking dread what decision is next.

Either she has to invite Brooke onto her bed, or Brooke has to make room on hers.

It’s just a bed, it’s just a bed, it’s not like you’re inviting her to snog, it’s just sitting down to watch a movie…  

So maybe Vanessa’s never had anyone but her friends lounge on her bed before, and her friends certainly don’t make her feel as nervous as Brooke does. Maybe Vanessa’s bed is a little small and Brooke is a little pretty, and the thought of being that close together makes her mouth go dry. And maybe the sudden uncertainty in Brooke’s eyes, too, is imagined, or else doesn’t mean anything that Vanessa thinks it could mean, rejection or reciprocation or suspicion of what Vanessa’s feeling. None of that changes anything right now, because Brooke is smiling again, tapping the space beside her bed to beckon Vanessa over.

“C’mon, let’s watch. If you want, we can even try to find the director’s cut.”

Day 3

Vanessa’s fast-developing fascination with Brooke’s ass isn’t helped by the sight of Brooke stretching on the floor that greets her as she comes back from her shower.

“Oh, hey!” Brooke lifts her leg up into a needle stance, peering between her legs before shifting her weight onto one hand and waving to Vanessa with the other. Her hair is still wet from her turn in the showers, and her current position is causing stray drops of water to trickle onto her arms, making it all too easy for Vanessa to give into temptation and watch as the droplets course over each one of Brooke’s muscles.

Bloody Hell. Vanessa’s got to do a better job of keeping her hormones under control.

“Hey yourself.” She tries to keep her voice casual as she grabs a pair of PJs from her bedside drawer, turning away from Brooke to change.

It’s strange. Vanessa never used to be as shy as she feels now, self-conscious of her nakedness as she drops her robe and begins to re-dress. A few months ago, this would’ve been no problem at all; to be honest, she’s not sure it would be now if she had a different roommate. But with Brooke next to her, watching her or not watching her at all (she can’t decide what’s worse, really), it’s different. She can’t help but wonder what she must look like, what Brooke must see if she’s actually looking. What does it feel like, being in Brooke’s head? What does everything seem, looking through Brooke’s eyes?

But Brooke is comfortable changing around her, and even though there’s no actual rule that says so, Vanessa feels obligated to feel comfortable, too. Partially because if it’s a non-issue, then feeling embarrassed about it might fade. And if that fades, then so will the way she feels every time she lays eyes on Brooke at all.

Right?

Vanessa whips around quickly, the sudden, eerie feeling of being watched making her forget that she doesn’t have a shirt on yet.

“ Christ! ” Brooke hits the floor with a thud, flushing beet red as she scrambles to cover her eyes. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to see–”

“I’ve seen yours, now you get to see mine.” Vanessa rolls her eyes and laughs, hoping that the light tone and faint smirk she forces herself to slap on disguises how secretly mortified she feels. And thankfully, the comment does work; the redness dissipates from Brooke’s face, and she giggles a little, though her gaze stays firmly planted on the ground until Vanessa slides on her t-shirt. Just like that, the awkwardness fades from the air, and things are back to business as usual as Vanessa begins to comb out her hair. Brooke finishes stretching, Vanessa goes to the half-bath to blow her hair dry. Brooke sits at her desk and types intently, Vanessa tries not to peek over Brooke’s shoulder to see who she’s talking to. Brooke stretches out on her bed to look at her phone, and Vanessa does the same to play around on hers.

“Oh, it’s our turn for dinner.” A reminder notification at the top of Vanessa’s screen alerts her to the time, and she shuffles up to slide on shoes and get going, only remembering what she’s wearing at the last minute.

“Gimme a second, we can go out like that together.” Brooke grins, swiping yet another strand of hair behind her ear as she drops her sweatpants and swaps them for a pair of pajama pants.

“Are you sure?” Vanessa frowns, but Brooke just shrugs, a wry smile spreading on her face.

“I’ve seen yours, now you get to see mine.”

Day 4

They do morning stretches together the next day, and Vanessa has to admit that lust gets pushed aside by jealousy the minute they slide into the splits. Vanessa can do them, even if she hates them–it’s not that she can’t. It’s not even that she’s inflexible, she wouldn’t have survived in dance up until now if she were. But Brooke? That girl is on a whole other level. She slides into the splits with no effort at all, falling into position almost instantly and yet extremely gracefully, then does the one thing Vanessa hates, because it’s the one stretch she can’t do. She grabs a high foam block and puts it under her front foot. And then, just when Vanessa thinks she can’t get shown up even worse, Brooke grabs a second block and slides that under, too.

God, Vanessa wishes she could hate Brooke. But Brooke is too sweet, too kind, and too encouraging to even hold her pretzel-like tendencies against her, especially when she turns to Vanessa and taps her foot, offers her tips on how to get herself to that level of flexibility.

Vanessa tries to tell herself that the way Brooke’s eyes seem to linger on her every few minutes is just that generosity, a teacher monitoring her pupil. But even after Brooke helps Vanessa slide a small book under her foot, elevating her leg just enough, the lingering continues, and it’s hard not to let wishful thinking–at least, she thinks that’s what it is–take over. And that feeling only gets stronger as they move to their next stretch, one where they’re toe to toe with their legs spread wide and Brooke is grabbing Vanessa’s hands to pull her hardly an inch away from her chest.

Is it just Vanessa, or is Brooke blushing? And is it just Vanessa, or are Brooke’s hands just a little sweaty under their softness, warm and gentle as if they’re trying to hold Vanessa with as much tenderness as they can? And is it just Vanessa, or has Brooke’s chest gone still, her breathing stopped until Vanessa straightens out again?

“Your turn.” Vanessa offers, pulling Brooke into the position she’d just been in, and from the way Brooke comes to a harsh, sudden, stiff stop, but her muscles don’t shake and her breathing doesn’t change, Vanessa can tell she’s holding back. Almost as if she doesn’t want to get too close.

Vanessa’s imagining it. She has to be imagining it. There’s no other explanation, not a heterosexual one, and Brooke is…

Come to think of it, Vanessa doesn’t know for sure. But she can’t ask, not now; it would be too strange. So instead, she pulls Brooke forward sharply, resisting the urge to giggle when the blonde grunts in surprise at her strength.

“No holding back.” Vanessa shakes her head, smiling far too warmly for Brooke not to know what this is really about. “You can trust me, okay?”

“Okay.” Brooke smiles up at her, and then her muscles relax, and everything feels back to normal.

Day 5

“Truth or dare?”

Brooke turns to look at Vanessa, shifting to sit up as she smiles dubiously. They’re lying on Brooke’s bed together, pressed up against each other in an attempt to both fit in the small space of the double underneath the fuzzy, tickly cushion of Brooke’s top blanket. Vanessa rolls her eyes at Brooke’s skepticism, rolling onto her back to look up at her, grin wide on her face.

“C’mon, you know you want to. We can scroll Reddit later. Truth or dare?”

“Um…” Brooke crinkles her nose as she thinks, and Vanessa has to swallow the thought of how cute the blonde looks like that.

Although admittedly, the fact that she’s starting to hope Brooke keeps thinking isn’t just so she can watch the way Brooke’s brow furrows and muse quietly to herself about how seriously Brooke is taking this choice. Rather, it’s because she knows what she wants Brooke to pick, and the longer Brooke thinks, the more opportunity there is for Vanessa to hope she’ll pick up on the psychic signals she’s trying to send her.

Pick truth, pick truth, pick truth…

“Dare. But I’m not licking anything and I’m not going anywhere naked.”

Damnit.

Vanessa frowns, chewing on her lip as she tries frantically to think of a dare she can ask Brooke to do. It has to be appropriate, obviously, nothing too crazy like she might ask of Silky or her other, closer friends. But it can’t be boring, either—-if there’s one thing Vanessa doesn’t want to be in Brooke’s eyes, it’s boring.

Then, she thinks of the perfect thing. Something that might get at her truth question, that isn’t too high-stakes but definitely still has a bit of an ‘oh shit’ factor—exactly what you want from a dare.

“Dare you to prank call your last ex. On speaker. ” Vanessa smiles triumphantly, sticking out her tongue to tease her roommate. It’s foolproof—depending on the voice, Vanessa will know who Brooke has dated. And if she’s dating someone already, then surely she’ll say that, since admitting it is no problem.

Only, from Brooke’s face, there’s definitely a problem.

“I don’t want to play anymore.” Brooke heaves herself up off the bed, face becoming stony and cold as her eyes cloud over with something that Vanessa can’t quite decipher. Something mixed with anger, sure, but also something…

Crap. Crap, crap, crap. The magnitude of what Vanessa’s just asked of her new friend hits her like a train, and she feels like both the dumbest and worst person in the world at once. She called Brooke out, put her on the spot, and if she is queer? Pretty much just asked her to out herself. Which, unlike someone like Vanessa, who has a pan flag on her desk, not everyone is willing to do.

Brooke isn’t just feeling cornered, she’s feeling afraid.

“Aw, c’mon Brooke, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want—“

“I said I don’t want to play!” Brooke snaps.

There’s a beat, Vanessa’s own heartbeat the only thing she can hear amidst the crushing silence.

“Brooke—“ Vanessa tries again after a moment, her throat going dry as she tries to cut through the sudden tension, but Brooke just turns to her desk, scoops up her things and storms towards the door.

“I’m going for a walk. See you at dinner.”

She slams the door on her way out, and suddenly, getting an answer to Vanessa’s question doesn’t really matter anymore, because there’s no satisfaction in what a reaction that strong might mean. She drops her head in her hands, staying there for a moment before punching the mattress underneath her, rocketing up and grabbing her phone.

“Silk? Yeah, I’m okay, don’t worry, I just… I fucked up.”

Day 6

They don’t talk about it at dinner, nor afterwards. They don’t talk about it the next morning, not during their morning stretches or at breakfast, either. It’s not that they don’t talk; they say good morning, ask each other questions about what time breakfast is, what time Brooke is going to be on a call with her parents. But that’s about as far as it goes; Brooke sticks to business, asking and answering questions in as few words as possible and avoiding Vanessa’s gaze at all costs. It’s torture, the tension eating away at Vanessa’s mind and stinging in her chest. She fucked up, and she fucked up bad , and despite Silky’s advice, she’s not so sure she can fix this.

Still, she supposes it won’t hurt to try.

Brooke is in the shower when Vanessa decides to sneak out, purse over her shoulder and mind ready for a mission. There’s a supermarket open within walking distance of the uni right now, and technically, she’s not supposed to leave campus at all except for emergencies. Which this is, so it should be okay, right? At least, that’s what she’ll say if she gets caught. She’ll have to be fast, and sneaky, and careful not to run into anyone who might ask where she’s going. Come to think of it, she hasn’t been for a walk on the grounds yet, not since arriving–how will it work? Will she have to plan a route? Give it to the front desk? Get a pass or something, to make sure she comes back within the allotted time? This could be dangerous, very dangerous…

“If you’re gonna go to the shop, can you get me a pack of cigs?” The stoner at the front desk doesn’t even bother looking up from whatever he’s doing on the computer as she tries to sneak by, stopping in her tracks at his voice.

Christ, really?

“Sure, whatever.” Vanessa rolls her eyes, a little irritated at how easy this actually is. So much for danger and adventure.

She comes back about an hour later, throws the guy his pack and launches that he owes her eleven over her shoulder, and skips back into her room with a jumbo bag of ketchup Lays in her knapsack.

“Peace offering?” Vanessa grins down at Brooke as the blonde’s mouth drops open first in surprise, then delight as she snatches the snack from Vanessa’s hands.

“Where did you find these?” Brooke squeals with delight as she tears the bag open, breathing in the sharp, slightly-sour smell that makes Vanessa’s nose wrinkle. Still, seeing the look of utter joy on Brooke’s face makes Vanessa so happy that she can’t help but smile, too.

“International aisle.” Vanessa sits on the edge of her bed proudly. “Figured you might like them, seeing as you always say you’re craving them.” She winks, and Brooke rolls her eyes, but giggles despite herself. But the moment passes as soon as it had come, and then they settle into silence again.

Come on, Vanessa. Just face the music. Apologize. She deserves that from you. Vanessa bites her lip, her hands curling into fists as she tries to force her heartbeat even again, because the longer the silence goes on, the more awkward it gets, the more she realizes that it’s now or never for her to make things right.

“Brooke–”

“We don’t have to talk about it.” Brooke says quietly, her voice flat and lifeless and… scared, almost. Vanessa sucks in a breath, her chest sinking as she realizes what’s going on.

“Well… Do you want to?” Vanessa prods, but Brooke doesn’t even look up from the bag of crisps, which suddenly seem to be the most interesting thing in the world despite the dullness in the blonde’s eyes.

“Honestly, I’d rather we didn’t.” When she finally speaks up, her voice is barely above a whisper, and it’s enough to make Vanessa’s heart break.

Not just because she’s lost her chance to apologize–because she knows that tone, knows that look. Knows the hesitancy and caution behind it, the anxiety and the feeling of being trapped and overwhelmed. Knows what kind of revelation that voice and that look are hiding, and how the information Brooke is trying to avoid isn’t actually set in stone yet.

Jesus, she’s fucked up way more than she thought she had.

“Okay.” Vanessa finally nods, sighing deeply. “But if you do… I’m here, okay?”

Brooke hesitates for a moment, but when she does look up, her eyes are full of a gratefulness that’s surprisingly warm. “Okay.”

This time, when silence falls, it’s not awkward, but full of resolution.

“So…” Brooke finally breaks it this time, a slow smile spreading on her face, “They just put up the newest season of The Bachelor online, wanna watch it? We got snacks, after all.” Brooke waves her bag in the air, and Vanessa smiles.

“Shove over, mate. I wanna see what kinda mess the girls are this year.”

[reversecreek]

clicks onto the dash wearing kitten heels n coyly holding my bang....... hi. me again. it took me so long to select a gif to use on cricket’s intro n i settled on this one bc he looks so unsure abt his smile n it’s rly his essence <3 u can find his pinterest board here n his (work in progress) spotify playlist here. hmu to plot!!! 

* alex wolff, cis male + he/him | you know cricket donahue, right? they’re twenty-two, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, all of their life, on and off? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to should have known better by sufjan stevens like, a million times this year, which slipping on wet leaves to photograph a tree struck alight by lightning, delivering a tedtalk to your own reflection to hype yourself up to buy groceries, hiding your hands inside of your sleeves in case you grew an impromptu megan fox thumb overnight thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is october 1st, so they’re a libra, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( nai, 24, gmt, she/her )

HISTORY:

cricket ws born to a couple tht lived in lilac ridge. their trailer was tucked closest to the woods n always fell under the shade. it was like the leaves wanted to pretend they were a perpetual hanging cloud on the family n that was kind of fitting. their only reason fr having him in the first place was a kind of shrugged like........... we’re under the income bracket we’d get child benefits so why not! may as well try it to rake in some extra cash! needless to say they didn’t rly think it thru or anticipate all of the responsibilities tht came w children n wound up seeing him as an extremely large burden n boy didn’t he know it!

(child neglect & abuse tw) i’ll try to keep this part vague n brief but things were Not Good for cricket growing up. people in lilac ridge didn’t like his parents n it was for a gd reason. he remembers foggy things. being little n wandering around combing the grass with a stick to search for wrappers to suck on bc he was hungry. feeling uneasy when the front door opened. finding out his name was cricket bc the insects used to crawl into their trailer thru the vents n his parents liked to squish them into the carpet -- his mum told him as much once. i think this says a lot. to excessively trim the fat of the story he wound up entering the system at around 8 after his latest and most serious hospital visit. his parents hd to deal w the authorities n last he heard they bounced to evade charges.

(anxiety & violence & trauma tw) cricket sustained a few lifelong injuries from his time in lilac ridge. his knee didn’t heal right which meant he had (n still has to this day) a limp n he’s partially deaf in one ear. he’s always been an incredibly insecure n anxious person so this mde him rly self conscious going into a strange n new environment tht wld b difficult fr any kid to adjust to, nvm w these added worries. he jst felt like something weird to ogle at honestly. he probably wld have felt like that no matter where he was or what he looked like. he cld be in a huge hall of 200 people all wearing the same uniform n he’d still feel like the odd one out. needless to say this didn’t rly help him make friends

cricket’s coping mechanisms were romanticising the things tht other people found ugly or embarrassing or painfully ordinary. he liked it when the rain hit clunky drops against school windows n forbid everyone from playing outside bc he could feel the vibrations through the rubber soles of his shoes n it was a little bit like hearing all of the world at once fr just a moment. he liked medieval fantasy lore about stout gnomes w crumbs in their beards n cheeks red from ale. he liked fallen nests with the remnants of hatched eggs still dirty from the branches n soil they’d hit on the way down. he liked the way the sunlight leaked thru the leaves of the trees in the woods and how, when he sat very still, he could tune into the ringing that was always in his ear n pretend it was coming from the same place, that light thru the leaves, that the angels were trying to talk to him.

he spent a lot of time in the red room at his high skl (i’m begging u this is not a 50 shades reference) (after googling i jst realised it’s called a darkroom bt i’m leaving this fr the sake of sexy bimbo authenticity) n felt quite at home in there. he borrowed a camera whenever he cld (maybe he did yearbook) n photography became his way of immortalising the world as the romanticised version he wanted it to be. his memories were bad bt his photos were beautiful. maybe if he took enough they’d paste over n bleed into each other. maybe bad cld be replaced w beautiful if he tried his very best.

he got placed into fostering w a family once bt apparently didn’t meet the vibe check of their tastes so he wound up returning to the group home he’d initially been placed in. overall this is where he grew up n he aged out the system rather than getting adopted. there was a sense of floundering/isolation/not feeling gd enough in tht bt cricket made do the best he knew how. 

that said there were some gd points! (shocking i kno bc his life hs been so fking bleak so far bt please it’s ok........) (is it?) (🤔). basically he interned as an assistant at this local photography studio during high skl working under this kind of whimsical yet endearing old man. suspected wizard possibly in cricket’s eyes, as an avid fantasy genre reader. for one of his bdays said old man / his boss bought him his very own film camera n cricket cried bc he’d never been bought a bday gift. this ws rly embarrassing bc this old man didn’t know how to emote n neither did cricket so he ws jst sort of sat wiping his eyes n sniffling saying he wasn’t crying as the old man pretended to suddenly clean his lenses. when cricket graduated he offered him a full time position there. they do like. wedding photographs n family portraits n all kinds of things...... pay isn’t huge bt it’s something n he Loves taking photos so it’s sexy <3

PERSONALITY:

SUCH an anxious person it’s actually unreal. overthinks absolutely everything he’s ever said. one morning he might hv put green socks on n for the rest of the day he’s nervously looking around like omggggggg they’re all looking at my socks probably thinking im a little green sock boy thinking i’m a fool n a jester this is all everyone’s probably thinking about i hv to hide my green socks..... even tho literally no-one cares

once saw a girl eating a chicken wing n in his head was like ok she likes chicken good future gift idea..... n turned up at her house with an entire rotisserie chicken

probably thinks WAY too hard abt what to write in bday cards n googles like generic ideas that he can use.... u open a card from cricket n it always says smthn weird like “Warmest wishes and love on your birthday and always!” or “You deserve everything happy. Wishing you that all year long!” tht he got off google

nervously fiddles w things a lot. literally anything. his hair. the cuffs of his sleeves. a thread on his bag. u name it

struggles w eye contact sometimes............ it’s like. he wants to talk to ppl n make friends bt he’s honestly so bad at it. he’s fumbling thru life like a nervous headless chicken

ALWAYS has his camera on him. like always. will tke a photo of u bc he thinks u look nice then be like im so sorry im so sorry...... bowing his head shakily holding his camera bc he doesn’t even kno what possessed him he jst thought it’d be a nice photograph bt boundaries exist. probably breathes very heavily over this later in his room panicking thinking he nw seems like hannibal lecter

probably more confident online bc he has time to think abt what he says more.......... i can see him hving a group of online friends tht he’s more confident w. honestly he’s pretty witty at heart he jst has a hard time verbalising things so ppl overlook him sometimes bt once u get to know him more / he’s more comfy he can b a funny little man.....

loves photographs where he cuts something out of them. loves missing spaces n voids. thinks it’s a rly interesting concept when something that isn’t there becomes the focus of a photograph where everything else is. probably loses his mind fr a collage like a front row 1d stan. likes experimenting w light n perception. pretty artistic honestly hs probably made a stop motion film in the past bc that’s just an extended form of photography in his mind bt i doubt he showed anyone

ummm...... very sweet bt like. he reminds me a lot of this quote. “he had the awkward tenderness of someone who has never been loved and is forced to improvise.” feel like tht sums him up quite nicely

WANTED CONNECTIONS

someone he met at a wedding: cricket probably ws forced to photograph a wedding fr his boss one time n it cld b interesting as a place to meet from that....... like. i can imagine either it being rly awkward maybe he accidentally spilled a drink on ur muse n was stuttering rly apologetic n it ws just a train wreck. or mayb they took pity on him or even (in a shocking turn of events) a shine to him n invited him to drink n dance. omgggg the thought of cricket trying to dance makes me wna die n probably mkes cricket wna hyperventilate bt idk maybe he went wild n let loose. mayb they wound up damaging the camera somehow. mayb they had to scramble to get another one n ur muse covered the cost n it was a strange late night excursion tht cricket thought about a lot since. cricket probably vowed to pay them bk somehow no matter what. idk. we can work things out. lots of diff options here. doesn’t have to b a wedding either can b any event tht required a photographer

ppl he went to school w: pretty self explanatory i suppose...... maybe they were frm completely different worlds..... mayb ur muse was popular n cricket was definitely not but they got paired fr an assignment n had to work on a project together....... mayb cricket asked ur muse on a date one time n it was completely embarrassing bc he didn’t realise they had a bf n it haunts cricket at night still bc he’s rly dramatic.... mayb ur muse felt sry fr him n ate lunch w him n inducted him into their group like a lost puppy finding a home.... world’s our oyster

neighbours from his brief time at lilac ridge: not to reference taylor swift but i’m gna reference taylor swift n say we cld do a seven inspired plot here. sighs a little..... then sighs a lot. he was here ages 0-8 so idk. we cld work out childhood plots perhaps....

sickening simp: i mean.............. cricket probably gets crushes on ppl so easily like just. anyone who’s the slightest bit nice to him.................. he’s a disgrace. ok i take it back. bt also please get it together freak............... i didn’t say that. he’d probably b extra nice to this person n try n pay close attention to things they liked so he cld get them little gifts. just a bit embarrassing n lovestruck bless his heart. wldn’t expect anything back tho honestly that just isn’t something he tends to do.

let’s go gays: cricket’s bi but he probably was rly in his head abt liking boys n tried to sort of squash it internally during his younger yrs...... i think he’s more comfy w it now MAYBE idk bt back then i picture him having a friend tht ws kind of like. similarly loserish as him perhaps (no offence to ur muse potentially filling this plot or cricket bt let’s face the facts) n they’d hang out n play games a lot n one time it jst kind of happened n he was like............. *struts in looking around sharply* What going on here? except not. bc it’s cricket. more like *shambles in looking around anxiously* What’s, uh... What’s... the happenings? S--... I’m sorry. (immediate apology for saying what’s the happenings bc nobody talks like that n it was an impulsive panic bc he didn’t know what else to say)

those who grew up in the system w him: maybe at the group home or i’d also like the family that fostered him n said sayonara. honestly i imagine the parents just thought he ws a bit too much of a handful / had too much baggage which is rly quite merciless n terrible but. if u think that aligns w ur muses home situation hmu......

um. can’t think of more bt just anything honestly. jst go wild.......