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honeypiehotchner · 4 years

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winter love (all i want for Christmas is you) -- Hotch x Fem!Reader

Hi hi hi!! I have literally been writing this on and off since September, and now I finally get to share it!! A few quick things: this fic has very much Hallmark vibes but does have a good dose of angst too; for the sake of this fic, Aaron was born and raised in Virginia; and Jack was never born (sorry buddy!).

I listened to Michael Bublé’s songs “All I Want for Christmas Is You” and “Cold December Night” a lot while writing this, so feel free to play those while you read! xx.

(The gif is from google because once again, my gif search is broken on here because apparently this post is too long?? Rip me)

Summary: You’ve returned back to your hometown after leaving to get your education, but you didn’t expect to run into your childhood best friend (and first love).

Word count: 9.4k

HOTCH MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

If you told yourself a few months ago that you’d be moving back to Virginia, you would’ve scoffed and probably laughed -- loudly. Your mom, on the other hand, would’ve been elated, and swore she knew it.

Like she’s doing now.

“I’m just so excited to have you home again,” she gushes, helping you carry boxes of your clothes up to your old childhood room.

The room needs some work, like taking down all these embarrassing posters and changing the sheets to something not so cringe-worthy (thankfully, it’s a full-size bed instead of the old twin you grew up sleeping on). But it’ll be fine for the time being. It’s not like you’re going to find an apartment right before Christmas, or that you even want to. It’s been a while since you’ve spent a full Christmas season with your mom.

You’ve been studying out of state for the past six years, working to get your masters and doctorate degrees — which you’ve completed. But now you need a job and a new start, which is why you decided to come home.

You’ve missed Virginia a lot more than you’ll admit. It’s hard not to miss your hometown when you’re gone from it for so long.

“We need a Christmas tree,” you say, as you come back down the stairs. “Christmas is next week, how do you not have a tree up yet?”

“I wasn’t going to get one without you,” your mom says like the fact should’ve been obvious to you.

You laugh as you plop down next to her on the couch. “I know. We should go tomorrow.”

“Whenever you want to,” she smiles, squeezing your arm. “Have you been to your coffee shop yet?”

“My coffee shop?” You raise an eyebrow. “Since when has it been mine?”

“Since you practically lived there during high school,” your mom counters.

She has a point. “Well, no, I haven’t. I just got here.”

“You should go.”

You raise both eyebrows this time, turning your entire body to face her. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you trying to get me to go back there?”

“Why don’t you want to?”

You give her a look. “You know why.”

“I don’t.”

She does. She knows exactly what happened there.

“I’m not repeating it,” you mutter. “And I’ll be finding a new coffee shop, thank you very much.”

“Oh, you can’t let one bad experience stop you from going there!”

“So you do remember!”

“How could I forget? When you were a wreck for months after. I still never forgave him for that, you know.”

You shake your head, settling back against the couch pillows. “It’s been long enough now that I think forgiveness won’t hurt anyone.”

You say that, and yet you don’t want to step foot in that shop ever again.

+++

It was the summer before your junior year. Aaron was a rising senior, so there was the weight of it being his last year already hanging in the air. Especially when he was already looking at a pre-law track for college — meaning he’d be insanely busy after graduation with not much time for you.

Unfortunately, you didn’t realize that his being too busy for you would start before then.

You were a year younger — technically almost two, but the way your birthday fell, you were only one grade younger — but that didn’t stop Aaron from being your friend. At first you thought he had ill intentions (as most older boys in high school did), but he didn’t. He genuinely enjoyed your company, and you genuinely enjoyed his.

More than genuinely. You say now that you don’t believe in love at first sight, but you know that’s because it already happened for you, and you believe it to be a one-time deal.

That one time was when Aaron sat across from you at the lunch table.

You were alone and reading a book. You were a freshman then, and being an extra year younger didn’t exactly help in the whole making friends department. Especially when a lot of your peers were already aware of your age.

But Aaron wasn’t aware, nor did he even care.

He saw that you were alone, and reading, and he decided to sit with you. He wanted to read too, anyway, but he knew he didn’t always like being alone when he read. Something told him you were the same way.

He was correct.

It took almost the entire fall semester before either of you said one word to each other. Sometimes you’d be too engrossed in the book you were reading to even notice he’d sat down in front of you. And when you would finally notice, he would be the one with his nose too deep in the book to notice.

But eventually, you started sharing book recommendations.

Which eventually turned into helping each other with homework. You were always better at math and Spanish than he was (you were already in the sophomore levels of these classes as a freshman), but he was always good with history and English. He must’ve noticed you were in freshman English and history, but he never commented on it — at least not in a way that said he was bullying you.

That winter break was when you started going to the coffee shop together. It was within walking distance of the high school, so the two of you would go at the end of the day until your parents could pick you up. Sometimes your mom would drive him home, or vice versa.

And when Aaron got his license, he’d drive you both there and drop you off at home.

The two of you were inseparable. Almost literally.

Until Aaron met Haley.

Haley was in theatre. She was everything you weren’t. Aaron’s age, pretty, funny, outgoing, and worst of all: popular.

You watched your best friend fall in love.

And that wouldn’t have hurt as bad as it did if it wasn’t Haley he was falling for.

You kept your feelings for Aaron quiet, even to your mom — though you found out later that she always knew. You had almost thought he felt the same, or that he might be beginning to, and then suddenly he was talking about some girl named Haley.

Only she wasn’t just “some girl” to him, or even to you. Everyone knew Haley Brooks.

Slowly, your lunch table conversations were less about what the two of you were going to do the coming weekend, and more about Haley. How he was going to get her to notice him (join theatre, even though he never liked theatre before her). How he was going to ask her on a date (it wouldn’t be a date at first, just dinner after theatre rehearsal, that ended up being with the entire cast, but he sat next to her). How he was going to win her over (he brought flowers to the first performance and surprised her backstage). How he was going to ask her to be his girlfriend (that was the same night as the flowers, completely unplanned, but she said yes).

How he thought he might want to marry her one day.

The last hurt most of all. He confessed it to you one night out of the blue as he was driving you home after school. You knew you could handle him being in love with someone else. Some sick part of you knew — or hoped, rather — that the relationship wouldn’t last. What high school relationship lasts longer than a few months, anyway?

But when Aaron fell for Haley, he fell completely. And hard.

He started cancelling plans with you to spend time with Haley — before they were even dating. When they were dating, he stopped making plans with you altogether.

Then came the summer before his senior year.

It had been months since you saw him last. You had a new lunch period the second half of the year because one of your favorite teachers asked for help during the period, which meant you didn’t have lunch with Aaron — but you don’t even think he noticed.

June came and went. The two of you barely saw one another, barely talked when you did. But when you did, you clung to those moments like they were your only lifeline. In a way, they were.

July finally came and he actually made plans to see you. He said he wanted to get coffee again, catch up, hang out for a few hours, sit in silence, even, whatever you wanted. You were excited.

Some part of you thought that he had broken up with Haley — wishful thinking, but you were sixteen and in love, what else were you supposed to think?

But he hadn’t broken up with her. They were very much in love. You know. You witnessed it.

Apparently, Haley didn’t like the idea of Aaron getting coffee and lunch alone with a female friend. So, she took it upon herself to tag along.

You saw them sharing a kiss through the window, Aaron’s back facing you. When they pulled away, Haley’s eyes caught yours, but she said nothing to Aaron, just pulled him back in for another kiss.

You didn’t go into the shop that day. And you haven’t since.

The last time you saw Aaron was the day before he moved to college. He was stopping by to say goodbye to you.

You were reading a book in your room, and your eyes caught the movement on the driveway. You told your mom to say you weren’t home.

You watched him leave from your bedroom window, hands stuffed in his pockets.

+++

You heard that Aaron and Haley got married. Not because you wanted to hear, but because your mom told you. She probably meant well, but you drank an entire bottle of wine that night. You weren’t even 21 yet at the time.

Of course, it’s been years since then. You’re all fine now, and you’ve got the student loan debt to prove it.

But even with three degrees, job hunting can be a bitch. Especially this time of year.

You need coffee.

You blame the fact that this coffee shop is the best one around. And the fact that it’s Christmas season, meaning they have your favorite drink again.

Dark chocolate peppermint mocha. It’s a godsend. And you haven’t had one in years.

Well, you have. But they haven’t been from here. They haven’t had this shop’s specially made peppermint whipped cream, or the peppermint stick that can be used to stir.

You hate how much you have to psych yourself up before you walk inside. You don’t even know where Aaron is these days or what he’s doing. He could be halfway across the country for all you know.

So, with that fact in mind, you walk inside. You embrace the familiar sight and smells, remembering what it felt like the last time you were here.

You move toward the counter, falling in the short line to the register. And your stomach flips when you see a familiar face standing in front of you.

Well, his back is facing you, so you don’t see his face, but you know it’s him. There’s this thing about first loves. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been since the last time you’ve seen them. You’ll always recognize everything about them. The back of their head, their shoulders, their hands, the way they walk.

Their voice. Even if it’s deeper than the last time you heard it.

Maybe he won’t recognize me.

But what you don’t know is that no amount of time could pass to make you unrecognizable to Aaron.

Or that he saw your reflection in the glass case next to him when you got in line, and he’s been internally trying to figure out what the hell to say to you since.

If it hadn’t been for his voice, you wouldn’t have recognized Aaron at all. A black coffee? That’s it?

The barista pours it and slides it over to him before he’s even done paying. He’s at a coffee shop -- this coffee shop, and he orders a black coffee?

Who is he?

You step up to the register as he steps away, and you swear you see him looking at you through the corner of your eyes. But you must be seeing things because why would he do that?

You focus on ordering -- a medium peppermint mocha, complete with the whipped cream and peppermint stick. After paying, you step to the side to wait for your coffee.

You nearly knock right into Aaron, but you stop yourself, well aware of his presence.

Another thing about first loves: you’re always painfully aware of their presence.

“Hi,” he says, awkward and fumbling even though it’s only one word. He’s wearing a stuffy suit and tie, which seems odd, but you’re positive that’s just normal lawyer attire. He probably lives in a suit these days. His hair is shorter than it used to be and he looks older, but so do you. Despite all of this, he’s still Aaron. He’s still the same Aaron Hotchner you fell in love with at sixteen.

“Hi,” you return the awkward smile, tugging on the strap of your purse. After a beat, you nod toward his drink. “Black coffee, huh?” You try to tease. “Who hurt you?”

He laughs loudly then, shoulders and head shaking. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too, Hotchner,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around yourself.

The conversation dies for a moment, so you busy yourself by looking at the different cakes and pastries in the glass case. You probably should’ve gotten one, but maybe another time.

Another time. Fifteen minutes ago you wouldn’t be caught dead in this shop and now you’re already thinking about another time.

“Are you busy?” Aaron suddenly asks, prompting you to look at him with furrowed brows. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” you smile gently, knowing you might regret this later. But it’s been over a decade since you’ve seen him last. One coffee won’t hurt.

And I’m over him, you remind yourself, no matter how untrue it might be.

Once you have your peppermint mocha -- finally, you think, it’s been too long -- you walk with Aaron to find a table. A lot has changed about this shop, but one thing that hasn’t (because there isn’t much that can be changed) is the seating.

Aaron leads you to your old table. The table the two of you practically lived at.

It makes your heart warm and ache all at once. The drink you decided to order isn’t helping matters either.

“So…” You pause, shifting in your seat. “What are you up to these days?”

“You stole my question,” he jokes.

“Tough,” you smile into your drink. “I asked it first.”

He chuckles, but answers anyway. “I’m working for the BAU now.”

“The B-A-What?”

“The-- FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

Your eyes widen. “Did you… Did you really just say you’re working for the FBI?”

“I think so,” he says. “I’m the unit chief.”

“You’re the-- Okay. So, you don’t work for the...the BAU, they work for you.”

“We’re a team,” he offers.

“Said every boss ever,” you quip, taking a long drink of your mocha. You take the peppermint stick in between your fingers and stir, eyebrows furrowing down at the swirl of coffee and whipped cream. “So...what do you do exactly?”

He opens his mouth to answer, then stops, hesitating. “Do you really want to know?”

You give him a look. “Of course I do.”

“It’s not great.”

“Aaron, just tell me, or I’ll start reciting my dissertation word for word.” Your statement stuns him to silence, so badly that you almost laugh. “That’s boring. Working for the FBI can’t possibly be boring.”

“Oh, it’s never boring, that’s for sure,” he mutters. “We profile serial killers.”

“You what?”

He laughs. “We look at their behaviors and crimes and build a profile, what they might look like, their age, that stuff.”

“Intriguing.”

“I can’t believe you’re interested.”

“I can’t believe you thought I wouldn’t be,” you counter. “You know I thrive off this stuff.”

“I remember,” he says quietly.

And just like that, you remember, too.

It’s so easy to forget about all the hurt he caused, all the pain he left behind. Especially because you know he never intended to hurt you. He would never do that, not to you, not on purpose. You never told him how you felt. It’s not his fault he couldn’t read your mind.

“Well, you’ve got a doctorate,” he says, shifting the conversation. “What else are you up to?”

“How did you know it’s a doctorate?” You raise an eyebrow. “Are you profiling me? Did I use that correctly?”

“Yes,” he smiles. “And no, not intentionally. You said you’d recite your dissertation. Those are normally written to get doctorate degrees. You always wanted one, I assumed you met your goal.”

“You assume correct,” you nod. “I’m back to start job and apartment hunting, but after the new year. I wanted to spend some time with my mom.”

“How is she doing?”

“She’s good, she--” You pause, shaking your head with a laugh. “She actually brought you up yesterday.”

“Me?” Aaron looks genuinely shocked.

“Yeah, you,” you knock your foot against his leg without thinking, but you pay no mind, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to it. “She’s actually the one who put the bug in my ear to come here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I haven’t been back here since…”

It takes him a moment, but he nods slowly. “Right.”

“Yeah,” you draw your legs closer to you on instinct. “But that was a long time ago. How are you and Haley?”

You don’t expect the way his face falls. You glance down at his left hand. No ring.

“We got a divorce a few years ago, split up about a good year before that,” Aaron explains. “She’s good, last I heard. Remarried already.”

“Wow,” you murmur, not knowing what else to say. “What-- I mean, what happened?” When he hesitates, you backpedal. “Sorry, I shouldn’t even ask, it’s probably a sensitive question.”

“It’s okay,” Aaron chuckles. “I don’t mind talking about it with you.”

That sends a dangerous flutter through your stomach. “Okay. Well I’m all ears.”

“Oh, it’s not a long story, it was just my job,” he shrugs. “I took the unit chief position and she was happy at first. But then, there was a period of time where we had what felt like case after case after case.” He shakes his head. “I was barely home, but I was barely in one state for long, anyway. It was a stressful time. We were everywhere at once.”

“That does sound stressful,” you frown. “Has it slowed down now?”

“Kind of, it has its moments,” he admits. “But being gone so much, it took a toll on her. She wanted to start a family, but said she couldn’t do that if I was never there.”

“But I mean she had to have known how your schedule would be with the new job, right?”

“Yeah,” he says, then shrugs. “It’s been so long now that I stopped trying to understand her thought process.”

“I get that,” you say sincerely. You understand not wanting to waste energy on something like that anymore. Sometimes you just have to give it up and have peace with the fact that you’ll never understand.

“What about you?” He asks suddenly, catching you off guard. “Seeing anyone?” He adds it quietly, like he’s shy.

Aaron Hotchner. Shy. Around you.

“Oh,” you nearly laugh at the prospect. “No. No, I’m not. Do you really think I would be if I was moving back in with my mom?”

He laughs, bringing his coffee to his lips. “You have a point there.”

A comforting silence settles over the two of you after that.

You shouldn’t feel slightly giddy that his and Haley’s relationship didn’t work out in the end. You’re over him by now, anyway. But something about being right has you fighting a smile. You smother the urge, though, knowing he probably doesn’t want to hear anyone, let alone you, say, “I told you so.”

You do feel bad for him, genuinely. Divorce is never easy for anyone, and you hate he went through that. Especially like that. Haley knew his work schedule would change. Why would she act supportive if she knew this in advance? Just sits uneasy with you, that’s all.

Of course, you feel that overprotective-best-friend nature coming back to you.

“What plans do you have now that you’re back?” He asks, keeping the conversation up, but you can tell he’s earnest — which makes you smile.

“Nothing, really. My mom and I are getting a Christmas tree later, but that’s all I have on my schedule.” You pause, giving him another look. “We both know you were my only friend in high school. Who do you think I’m going to see while I’m here?”

“Hopefully a lot of me,” he replies easily, smiling around his coffee.

And for once, you don’t hesitate to reply. “I hope so, too, actually. I didn’t think you were still around here. And I really didn’t expect you to be working for the FBI.”

“This might be presumptuous of me, but what are you doing this weekend?” He asks, quickly adding on, “A good friend of mine is hosting a Christmas party for the team, and I’ve basically been threatened to bring a plus one.”

“Threatened, huh?” You raise an eyebrow.

He nods seriously. “They won’t let me inside without one.”

You gasp comically, keeping up the act. “Well you can’t miss the party!”

“I know,” he sighs, propping his head in his hand.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to come with,” you say, still deadly serious.

But Aaron’s lips split into a grin the same time yours does. “It’s this Saturday.”

“Lucky for you, I’m free.”

He doesn’t stop grinning. “I can pick you up, if you want.”

“Yeah, I’d love that,” you say. “I should probably give you my number, shouldn’t I?”

“I was going to ask,” he admits.

You roll your eyes playfully. “I figured.”

After exchanging numbers, the two of you return to your idle conversations. Only, they’re less idle than they ever have been before.

He vents about still not understanding how people can be capable of the things he sees. How he knows that everyone is capable of unspeakable things, but it’s how they do it that still makes him stumble sometimes. And you try to sympathize, though you know you can’t. But still you tell him not to try to understand.

“You’re a good man,” you say. “You’re not going to understand it because you’re not like them.”

“Thank you,” he whispers. “I know that, consciously. Sometimes it’s good to hear it from someone else.”

Then he tells you it’s your turn, and again, you don’t feel the need to hesitate.

You tell him how you weren’t planning on moving back here at all. But the job market where you were didn’t...fit you, for some reason. You never felt like you belonged, and so maybe that’s why you wanted to come back here.

Because even though you left this place heartbroken, you still felt like you belonged when you were here. You felt like you belonged when you were with him, but you don’t tell him that.

Something tells you he heard it anyway, though. Being a profiler and all. Which you still don’t quite understand, but you’re sure he’ll have plenty of time to tell you in the coming future.

+++

After an hour or two, you decide it’s time for you to head back home. Partly because you need to make some lunch for yourself, and partly because you’ve watched Aaron dismiss at least three phone calls in the last twenty minutes.

But he didn’t say a word each time, so you know he won’t tell you who it is or if he needs to go. It makes your heart warm at the thought that he wants to spend more time with you, but if it’s his job, then he needs to go.

He walks you to your car and you hug him around his neck, unashamedly taking a deep breath of his cologne when you stretch up to wrap your arms around him. He didn’t wear cologne back in high school. But this one smells good.

You mentally prepare yourself on the way home for the amount of questions your mom is no doubt going to ask.

You’re supposed to be going to pick out a tree with her today, which means you were supposed to be home a little earlier than this, which means your mom probably already knows what happened and you won’t even get a chance to explain yourself.

In the end, your prediction was correct.

“How was your peppermint mocha?” You glance over to the couch and find your mom sitting there, idly reading a book.

The question is as directly indirect as they come. You raise an eyebrow and kick the front door closed (yes, she asked before you even stepped foot inside the house). “It was good,” you reply, shrugging your jacket off your shoulders. “Why?”

“Oh, you enjoyed it for almost two hours, so I was just wondering.” Your mom fights back a grin, but she’s not doing a very good job.

You sigh. “Just go ahead and ask.”

She closes her book. “Alright, fine, I will. How is Aaron?”

There it is.

“He’s good,” you answer rather pointedly, making your way into the living room. “He’s working for the FBI now.”

“Oh, I knew that already.”

You plop down next to her on the couch. “Seriously?”

“Of course!” She cries, like it should be obvious. “Small talk happens when you see someone in the store.”

“Right,” you scoff. “Anyway, thanks for not telling me him and Haley divorced.”

She grimaces.

“Yeah, exactly,” you nod at her expression. “That’s how I felt. I bet it was just awesome of me to ask about how him and his ex-wife are doing.”

“I’m sorry,” your mom says. “It completely slipped my mind. It’s been so long since those two split.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when it happened?”

“Because I didn’t want to bring him up,” she answers sincerely. “You seemed like you had really moved on. I figured it didn’t matter, and I didn’t want to make you start thinking about him again when you had finally gotten over it all.”

“Oh,” you murmur. “Well, thank you, then, but...still. I feel like an idiot.”

“Did he seem angry when you asked?”

“No, the opposite,” you sigh. “He explained what happened and I let him talk about it for a second, but he seems mostly moved on from it.”

“I don’t know how he can be,” your mom scoffs. “She’s already remarried, you know.”

“Yeah, he told me.”

Your mom shakes her head. “I should’ve shook some sense into that boy when he came to say goodbye that day.” Then she pauses, poking your leg. “And I should’ve made you say goodbye to him. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

“I didn’t wanna talk to him,” you shrug. “We barely had all year, anyway. And one goodbye would not have stopped him from going to college and marrying Haley, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know.” She sighs. “It’s fun to think about, though.”

“Well stop thinking about it,” you mutter. “We are friends and he’s probably seeing someone by now. I don’t even know how long I’ll be here, so.”

Your mom raises her eyebrows. “I never said anything about what you guys are now.”

Damn. Caught. “I know, but I’m just...catching you before you do.”

“Mmm, more like catching yourself.”

“Shut up.”

She lightly hits you with a pillow. “Don’t say that to your mother,” she jokes. “Especially not when I’m right and you know it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Are you ready to pick out a tree?”

“Of course,” she replies. “Just let me find my shoes.”

While she’s getting ready -- because “finding her shoes” really means fixing her hair and makeup and changing outfits a couple times -- you get a text from Aaron.

Aaron: It was nice catching up with you today

You smile and type your reply. Ditto. We should do it again sometime.

He doesn’t reply, but you figure he’s busy at work, anyway. And you’ve got a tree to pick out and decorate, so you’re technically busy, too.

You try not to think too much about it.

+++

And truthfully, you don’t think much about it, until Aaron finally replies. It’s hours later when you’re decorating the freshly-cut Christmas tree in the living room, with Michael Bublé’s Christmas album playing through the stereo speakers. It’s just like when you were younger.

You check your phone and see that it’s Aaron texting you back, but you pocket it before reading the message. You’re busy.

Your mom notices the change on your face. “Everything alright?” She asks as she places a snowflake ornament on one of the smaller branches.

You nod without thinking, hating yourself for even feeling what you’re feeling right now. A glittery red ornament hangs from your index finger as you try to find the right branch to hang it on -- and while your mind wanders all over the place.

“Clearly not,” your mom replies. “But alright.” She turns and reaches into a different box, picking up one of the golden jingle bells that she always hides deep within the tree each year. When you were younger, she’d hide them without you seeing, and then on Christmas Eve you’d have to search the tree for them before you could open one present before going to sleep.

You snort a laugh, always loving her way of getting you to open up: sarcasm. “It’s just Aaron.”

“Aaron?”

“Texting me,” you explain, looking down at the glitter coating your fingertips from the ornaments.

“Aren’t you going to reply?” She asks, grabbing another jingle bell.

“Technically he’s the one replying from earlier today.”

“Okay…”

You sigh. Time to cave. “He invited me to a Christmas party this weekend.”

Your mom doesn’t even try to hide her excitement or her wide grin. “Really? That’s great!”

Is it? You want to ask, but you stop yourself. “Yeah,” you shrug. “I guess so. It’ll be nice to hang out with him more.” You pause, finally hanging the small glittery red ornament on the tree that you’ve been idly holding for the past two minutes. “Apparently a friend of his is hosting it and basically told him he wouldn’t be allowed inside without a plus one.” You chuckle quietly, knowing Aaron had to have rolled his eyes when his friend told him that.

“So it’s...a date, then?”

“What? No,” you shake your head. “No, no. Not a date. He didn’t phrase it that way.”

“Sweetheart, plus one implies date.”

“Who says?”

“Everyone!” Your mom laughs. “Bringing a plus one to a wedding is usually a casual date, if not bringing your significant other along.”

“This isn’t a wedding, it’s just a Christmas get together.”

“Same difference.”

“Well, I think you’re doing that thing again where you try to plant seeds in my brain for things that are unnecessary,” you raise an eyebrow at her when she avoids eye contact, so you know you’ve caught her red-handed. “All that aside,” you sigh. “I’m over him. It’s been so long. If something was going to happen, it would have already.”

“Whatever you say,” she shrugs indifferently, grabbing the final jingle bell to hide in the top of the tree. For a brief moment, you wish you hadn’t been watching where she hid them, so you could do the search on Christmas Eve one more time.

+++

You bump into Aaron one more time, two days later, at the same coffee shop.

“Back for more?” He teases as he slides into the seat across from you, another black coffee in his right hand.

You’re sitting at the table the two of you call home with yet another peppermint mocha sitting in front of you and your laptop. More job hunting is the task for today, even though you’re ready to give up and just pick it back up after the New Year. It’s not like your mom is making you pay rent, and you have enough in savings to help with groceries (without her knowledge, of course, because she refuses to let you pay for anything) and buy your own coffees. But, you decided to give it one last go today.

That is, until Aaron slid into the seat in front of you. Now, you close your laptop and place it back in your bag. “Just needed some fuel for more job hunting,” you grin. “What are you doing here?”

“I took off for lunch for once and thought I might find you here.”

“Oh?” You raise your eyebrows. “Were you seeking me out, Hotchner?”

“Maybe a little,” he admits with a shy smile. “Are you still good for tomorrow?”

“As long as you are,” you nod. “What time?”

“I’ll pick you up at five, if that’s good?”

“Perfect,” you smile. “Are you ready to introduce me to your friends?”

“Depends,” he exhales exasperatedly. “Are you ready to meet them?”

“They can’t be that bad.”

“They might be. If you aren’t used to them.” He pauses. “They don’t know you’re coming, by the way.”

“What?” You almost laugh. “Why not?”

“I told them I was bringing someone, but I didn’t feel like hearing it all week about who I was bringing.” He pauses again, like he’s holding something back, and then he lets it out. “They know all about you.”

You blink. “They do?”

“Yeah,” he smiles gently. “I talk about you all the time.”

“No,” you shake your head. “No you don’t. There’s no way.”

“You’ll believe it tomorrow,” he chuckles. “I’m sure they’ll try to embarrass me.”

“I-I mean...what do you even say about me?”

He shrugs. “That you were my best friend in high school and...that I missed you and wondered what you were up to these days, and how we used to hang out here.” He looks around the shop, then back to you and your bewildered expression. “What?” He laughs. “You didn’t talk to your friends about me?”

“No, I did,” you laugh quietly. But I said different things. And most of the time I was crying because I missed you, especially my first year of college when my roommate tried to get me to go on a double date with her boyfriend and his roommate, but I refused and had to confess that I wasn’t over you and that you broke my heart, and I was such a mess that she brought ice cream and chocolate back after their date.

But you don’t say any of that. Obviously.

“I just didn’t expect you to even...think about me, I guess,” you finally spit out, still shaking your head. “I mean...we haven’t talked since high school, I figured you’d forgotten or moved on, at least. Especially since you had Haley.”

Aaron’s expression softens and turns sad, quickly. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I didn’t know you thought any of that.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” you wave his worry away. “It’s years ago. Water under the bridge.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. Then, he says, “Haley was jealous of you, you know.”

You immediately look up from your mocha, your eyes wide in shock. “She was what?”

“Oh yeah,” Aaron laughs. “Devastatingly jealous of you. She swore we were dating or that I was in love with you or something.”

Or something. “Wow,” you chuckle, trying to mask your hurt as much as possible. “Why did she even think that?”

You know why. You know exactly why. Because before her, you and Aaron were attached at the hip. You sat together during lunch, walked each other home, hung out at the coffee shop, went to school functions together (well, you’d actually go with a big group, but you two always ended up together anyway), and so on and so forth. Anyone would’ve been an idiot to not assume you two were dating.

“We were so close,” he shrugs. “She said she was so surprised when I asked her to be my girlfriend because she swore I was dating you. She actually asked me that, when I gave her the flowers. She said, “What about Y/N?” And I said, “Y/N? She’s just my best friend.” And she didn’t believe me.”

“That’s so crazy,” you say, but you’re really thinking back to that day you and Aaron had decided to meet up here and hang out after so long. When Haley crashed the hangout. When she locked eyes with you and smirked before pulling him back in for another kiss.

She was jealous. She was jealous and she knew exactly what she was doing that day.

Aaron’s phone starts ringing and he sighs heavily, pulling it out. He almost declines it, but then stops himself. “It’s the boss,” he says. “My boss. I’ve gotta take this. I’ll text you later?”

“Sure,” you smile, knowing he might forget or get too busy to think about it. But that’s okay. “Good luck with the phone call.”

“Thanks,” he chuckles. “I’ll need it.” And then he brings his phone up to his ear. “Agent Hotchner,” he says, and you hate that you find it so hot.

+++

You almost cancel with Aaron a dozen times before 2p.m.

You blame the conversation the two of you had yesterday. For some reason, the thought of Haley being jealous of you had never crossed your mind. Because to you, it was so obviously the other way around. Of course, you weren’t vocal about your jealousy, but you were certain she knew. Not that it was the other way around.

Old feelings have already resurfaced, which is bad enough, but the talk about Haley and about how Aaron’s friends know all about you made things worse. Especially the latter.

Why would he talk about you so much if the two of you hadn’t spoken in years? Not even years, but like an entire decade. Why would he still talk about you and think about you that much?

You have dwelled over those questions since he left the coffee shop yesterday.

But now, you have no idea what to wear, and Aaron will be here any minute. You’re assuming the attire is casual, not fancy, since it’s just a get together with his friends -- who all happen to be his team of agents. FBI agents. Because he’s just casually the Unit Chief of the BAU.

It still baffles you. He wanted to be a lawyer. Not in the FBI. God.

He’s still your Aaron. That’s what shocks you the most. He’s experienced law school, marriage, practicing law, working for the FBI, becoming a Unit Chief, divorce, and yet he’s still the Aaron Hotchner you were best friends with in high school.

You wonder if you’re still the girl he was best friends with in high school. Or if you’ve changed so drastically that he doesn’t see you that way anymore.

You take a deep breath, going back to digging through the many boxes of clothes that you have yet to unpack. You need a sweater or something. That’s safe enough, right? It’s too cold for a dress, and frankly, you’re not in the mood for wearing one, anyway.

Finally, you find the sweater you were looking for. You tug it over your head, figuring your jeans are fine enough. You’ll wear some low heels to make it look like you put in a little more effort.

Your quick thinking is to your benefit because the doorbell rings almost as soon as you’re done doing the clasp on your second heel.

But because your mom is quicker than you, she’s already opened the door and let Aaron in before you can make it downstairs. And by the time you are coming down the stairs, Aaron is sitting on the couch with your mom, making idle conversation.

“Hey,” you smile at him, resisting the urge to glare at your mom. “Ready?”

“If you are,” he nods, standing to his feet.

When he turns, you shoot your mom a look. “We’ll be back later.”

“You’re not in high school,” your mom laughs. “You two have fun for as long as you like.”

“I know,” you say. “But I also know you’ll wait up until I get back.”

“And you can’t stop me,” she replies pointedly.

Aaron laughs at the two of you, your banter just as he remembers from all those years ago. Neither of you have changed one bit.

After a final moment of bickering, you bid your mom goodbye and leave with Aaron.

In the car, you ask, “Have you told them about me coming yet?”

From the driver’s seat, he shakes his head. “No, so prepare yourself for a lot of questions.”

“I think you’re the one that’ll be in hot water, but alright,” you chuckle. “I can hear them now. ‘Why didn’t you tell us you were bringing her!’”

He laughs loudly. “That’s not a bad impression, actually.”

“Why, thank you,” you smirk. “It’s a hidden talent of mine.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mhm.”

The two of you share a grin as he keeps driving.

+++

After some time -- long enough that you were beginning to wonder where he’s taking you -- Aaron finally turns into a subdivision. But it’s still not what you were expecting.

You assumed FBI agents must make good money, but not this good. This is a mansion. It’s massive. There has to be at least six bedrooms in there, maybe more.

“Is your friend a millionaire or something?”

Aaron chuckles, “Maybe. Probably. Maybe more.”

“More?” Your eyes widen. “Wow.” And then Aaron pulls into the driveway. “Wow.”

He puts the car in park and says, “Try not to look too surprised. Dave won’t shut up about the house if you get him started.”

“What if I want to hear everything?” You ask, scrambling out of the car to look up at the house. “Jesus Christ.” Then you whip your head around to look at Aaron exasperatedly. “Does your house look like this?”

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “No. This is too big. Dave’s crazy for buying it.”

“He’s definitely insane,” you nod. “I mean, what do you even need a house this big for?”

Aaron shrugs. “Christmas parties, I guess.” He pauses, holding out his arm for you. “Ready to face the lions?”

You roll your eyes through a laugh, loosely holding onto his arm. “Quit being so dramatic. I bet it’ll be just fine.”

“Let’s hope so,” Aaron replies. Because truthfully, he is a little worried that they might scare you off. They have a habit of doing that.

The two of you walk up to the front door, and you try your best to act like you’ve been in the general vicinity of a house this big before. Dave must be a really good friend of Aaron’s, because instead of knocking or ringing the doorbell, Aaron twists the doorknob and walks right in with you on his arm.

“Dave’s making pasta,” Aaron whispers, smelling the air. He shuts the door gently, wanting to surprise the team as much as possible.

You sniff the air, too, smiling happily. “Smells really good. Is that carbonara?”

“Good nose,” a voice says from the kitchen.

“That’s Dave,” Aaron chuckles, walking you down the hall toward the smell.

The team’s eyes all widen dramatically and comically when Aaron Hotchner steps inside the kitchen with a woman on his arm.

“Well, hello,” one of them says, sliding off the stool at the counter to saunter over to you. He’s all suave and swagger.

“Derek Morgan, this is Y/N,” Aaron introduces you quickly, knowing the reaction your name will get.

“Hold up,” Derek pauses, glancing between you and Aaron. “Y/N? As in the Y/N?”

“I don’t know about being the Y/N, but that is my name,” you laugh. “Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Derek says, a hand over his heart to add to the sincerity. “Where have you been hiding all this time?”

“Getting a doctorate,” you shrug, only now realizing that your hand is still holding onto Aaron’s arm, but he doesn’t seem fazed by it either, so you don’t move.

“Oh, alright,” Derek chuckles. “Hey Reid, we’ve got another doctor here.”

The man in question, Reid, looks up from the book he was reading with furrowed eyebrows. “Hi.” He waves.

“Hey,” you wave back. “What’re you reading?”

“War and Peace. In Russian, though.”

“In-- Wow, okay.”

“He’s a genius,” Morgan explains.

“I see that,” you chuckle.

Aaron finishes the introductions for you. “That’s JJ, handles the press for us because none of us want to do it.”

“He’s not wrong,” JJ replies with a laugh. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You too,” you smile.

“You met Reid, his first name’s Spencer,” Aaron supplies, and Reid is too far gone in the book again to notice. “This is Emily Prentiss.”

“And I have been dying to meet you,” Emily says. “You are exactly how he described.”

“In a good way, I hope?” You laugh nervously.

She nods. “Definitely.”

Aaron points to the other woman at the counter. She’s dressed in all sorts of crazy colors with glasses that match her outfit. And before he can introduce her, she says, “I’m Penelope Garcia, technology extraordinaire. I keep them out of trouble.”

“And we love you for it,” Derek adds.

“And this is Dave,” Aaron finishes.

“It is very nice to finally meet you,” Dave says, and actually shakes your hand. “Do you know how to make carbonara?”

“Yes, actually,” you say, earning a surprised look from Aaron. “I went through a phase when I was younger, wanting to make anything and everything that sounded good, so I’ve made this a few times. My mom loves it.”

Dave loves the sound of that. “Would you like to help me?”

You practically light up inside and out. “Seriously? I’d love to!”

“Oh, here we go,” Derek groans. “He’s roped her in.”

You ignore him, slipping away from Aaron to grab the other apron off the hook by the entrance to the kitchen. You slide your head through the loop and tie it at the back in a matter of seconds, too excited to contain it.

“I almost went to culinary school, you know,” you say to no one in particular, but Aaron is listening, and so is Dave.

“Why didn’t you?” Aaron asks.

You shrug. “Didn’t seem practical.” Which isn’t the real answer at all. The real answer is you got your heart broken and needed to do a complete 180 in life, so you did. Culinary school was out. Getting a doctorate was in. You turn on the water in the sink and begin washing your hands. “What do you need me to do?”

For the next hour, you help Dave make the carbonara, occasionally answering any questions Aaron’s friends have for you.

Aaron pours you a glass of wine and sits at the counter, watching you cook. You look more at peace than he’s seen you since a few days ago when he first bumped into you again.

You catch him looking at you more than a handful of times. It feels good. Spending the evening with his friends, his team, with him. You’ve missed spending time with him more than anything else.

Dave serves up the carbonara, telling you to sit down since you helped so much already. You don’t make him ask twice.

+++

After dinner, everyone moves into the living room, scattering on the various couches and chairs. Reid has finished reading War and Peace, so the book sits discarded on one of the coffee tables.

You take the spot on the couch next to Aaron, careful not to spill your wine. Penelope sits on the other side of you, with Derek on her other side, which all but forces you to move closer to Aaron, and something about the look on Penelope’s face tells you it was done on purpose.

You’re not exactly complaining, though. With a full stomach and a fresh glass of wine, Aaron’s presence is even warmer than before. You pay no mind when he shifts his left arm, stretching it over the back of the couch and allowing you to scoot closer, your legs pressed against each other’s.

The conversation continues, and somehow the subject of relationships is brought up.

“Yeah, why was I the only one asked to bring someone?” Aaron asks. “I’d like to see all of you find a last minute date.”

Another warm rush goes through your body at the word date. This is a date. Alright then.

“I think you did just fine,” Dave says, nodding to you. “Don’t you?”

You shrug, not sure of what to make of it. “I’m having fun, so I guess so.”

“See?” Dave gives Aaron a look. “You did fine.”

Aaron gives his friend a tired glare. “Only because she happened to be back from getting her degrees. Otherwise, I would’ve been stuck.”

“Nah, man, you could’ve called Beth.”

You feel Aaron tense next to you, but you aren’t sure if he tensed up or if you did. Maybe both. Probably both. You weren’t aware there was someone else.

“Who’s Beth?” You ask as casually as possible, ignoring the heated glares Penelope, JJ, and Emily alike are sending Derek. Seriously, Derek would be dead three times over right now if looks could be deadly.

Aaron shrugs before answering you. “Her and I dated briefly last year.”

You nod slowly, trying not to seem hurt or upset or anything by this because it’s ridiculous of you to be fighting back tears, but you can’t help it.

It’s high school, goddamnit, it’s fucking high school all over again.

The topic of conversation shifts thanks to Reid being the endless supplier of random facts. One question about Russian from Emily and he’s taking over, washing the awkwardness away in two languages.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t work as well for you as it does for everyone else.

You set your wine glass down on the table and tell Penelope you’re going to use the bathroom. You have no clue where it is, but she doesn’t know that.

Aaron does. And Aaron hears the tone of voice you use.

He waits until you’re down the hall before he stands to follow you, foregoing any explanation to his friends. They already know what he’s doing.

Aaron’s suspicions are correct when he hears the front door close and sees your coat no longer hanging next to his on the hook by the door. He grabs his and only gets one arm through a sleeve before he’s opening the door, eyes searching the premises for you.

Thankfully, he finds you after two seconds, and his racing heart slows a little. You’re standing by the reindeer lights on Dave’s front lawn. Your coat is only hanging on your shoulders, something you’ve always done since high school when you were upset.

“It feels more like a blanket,” you had told him one day. “Blankets are more comforting than jackets.”

He doesn’t see the difference, but you do, and that was enough for him.

He has both arms through the sleeves by the time he’s next to you. He gently touches your arm to get your attention, adding a soft, “Hey,” for good measure.

You turn your head at the sound, having already known he was coming because you heard the front door open. In the back of your mind, you had wanted him to follow you out here, but now that he’s done it, you aren’t so sure this is what you wanted.

You wanted to ignore the feeling. Get it to disappear on its own. Survive the night, then never talk to him again. You were heartbroken, but it was better when you weren’t speaking to him. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron says softly. “Beth and I haven’t spoken since our last date a year ago. It was only three dates. We weren’t serious at all.” He pauses. “I have no idea why Derek said that. He doesn’t think before he speaks sometimes.”

You nod, not having it in you to laugh at Aaron’s small jab, even though he is entirely correct. Derek is a quick thinker with a sharp wit, but you can see how it might backfire sometimes. Like tonight.

You believe Aaron, you really do. But it’s so hard. “Did you love her?”

Aaron is stunned for a moment, but says, “No. I don’t think I did.”

“Okay.” You shake your head, looking down at the grass. “I’m just trying to figure out why Derek would’ve brought her up if...if you guys dated so briefly.”

Aaron sighs. “I don’t know.”

“And is this a date?” You blurt, finally finding the courage to get that one out. “Because if it is, I…I don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

You shake your head again, trying to find the right words, but they always seem out of reach. “Just...tell me this won’t be like high school.”

This time Aaron is too stunned to form a real answer. “What?”

“Please,” you sound like you’re about to cry and you feel so pathetic that you wish you had never agreed to come tonight. But you’re here anyway. “I was in love with you then, and I’m still in love with you now, but I can’t do that again. So if this is a just friends thing and always will be, I need you to tell me before I hurt myself all over again.”

Aaron can’t believe his ears. He swears he heard you wrong. He must have. “You were in love with me in high school, too?”

“Yes-- Wait, too? What do you mean too?” Now you’re looking at him, eyes wide in confusion, shock, every emotion possible. “Too?”

“I was in love with you, Y/N,” he chuckles, reaching for your hands. “I thought you just saw me as an older brother. That’s why I never...said anything.”

“What?” You breathe, letting him thread his fingers through yours. “Are you serious? You better not be pulling my leg, Hotchner. Don’t do that to me.” You tug on his hands for emphasis, giving him a stern look.

“I’m not joking,” he says, taking a step closer. “I wouldn’t joke about this.”

“Oh my god,” you say, disbelief a powerful thief of words. “I can’t believe… So you went after Haley because…”

“Because I heard from one of her friends that she had a crush on me,” he admits. “I did love her, but not as much as I loved you. Never as much as I loved you.”

You don’t know what else to do or say. He looks so beautiful in this light that it hurts, and now he’s saying words you never thought you’d ever hear.

“Do you forgive me?” He asks. “For breaking your heart?”

“Only if you forgive me for breaking yours,” you whisper.

He shakes his head. “I broke my own. I should’ve told you how I felt.” He pauses. “I even talked to you about Haley all the time. Is that why you didn’t say goodbye to me?”

You nod. “It sounds so stupid now, but I was so hurt.”

“I’m an idiot,” he laughs. “I’m the dumbest fool to ever walk the Earth.”

“We both are,” you correct him, taking a step closer. It’s cold out here, but he’s warm. He’s always been so warm. Like home.

And you-- you’ve always been who Aaron thinks of when he thinks about being happy. It’s always been you. A moment like this, and a thousand others. He wants them all. And to think, you do too.

His lips meet yours in a long-awaited kiss, cold noses bumping against one another, his warm hands holding your face, your chilled fingers finding their home on his neck, stealing his warmth.

From the window, the team watches, and Emily exchanges money with Derek.

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wipbigbang · 4 years

Text

2021 Schedule + FAQ

Schedule

All times are by 8:59pm PST. Convert time zones.

Sign-ups Begin- April 1st

Sign-ups Close- April 15th

Check In #1- April 22nd

Check In #2- May 15th

Snippets Due- June 1st

Art Claims Begin- June 17th

Check In #3- June 22nd

Check In #4- July 6th

Rough Drafts Due- July 15th

Posting Claims Begin- July 23rd

Posting Claims Ends- August 1st

Final Drafts/Art Due- August 7th

Posting Starts- August 8th

FAQ

Do I need a Livejournal/Dreamwidth/AO3/etc. account to participate? No! You don’t have to have an account on anything to participate, though you will need to have somewhere to post your finished work. Having one or more accounts will help for you to follow what is going on with the bang (we crosspost to Livejournal, Dreamwidth, Tumblr, and Twitter at the moment), but they are not required to participate. You can always leave comments anonymously or with an opensource ID.

Will I get emails about the bang? We do send out some emails, mostly for snippets and art claims and to ensure communication between authors and artists, but please do NOT rely on getting an email to remind you of due dates. We currently do not keep an updated email list of participants, so we only send individual emails as needed rather than mass emails.

However, email is the fastest way to communicate with the mods. If you have any questions or are having trouble communicating with your artist/author, please do email us! We will do our best to respond quickly.

Is there a minimum word count? 7,500 words, but the sky's the limit, right?

What do you mean by minimum word count to enter? This is a WIP Big Bang, therefore we ask you to have at least 500 words of your story drafted when you enter. It's okay if you have posted a few chapters of your fic already (you never know when the muse deserts you, after all), we just require you to refrain from posting more until posting begins here.

Is there anything not allowed? As long as you wrote it and you want to finish it, you're welcome to participate. Just bear in mind that original work is only allowed on AO3 if it has a fannish connection and might make it hard for artists to work with. But we'll make a dedicated post for that if there will be any.

What are 'Check Ins’? These are a way for us to see what you've been up to and for you to make sure you're still on track. It will give you a little nudge/reminder if you need it, but they are not compulsory.

What are the snippets requirements? In order to allow the artists to make art for the story they claimed, we require you to supply three snippets from your fic, between 500 – 1500 words each. The snippets will be sent to the artist after they have claimed your story. They're to help the artist match your story for artwork the best way he or she possibly can. It’s helpful to choose scenes or parts of scenes that you feel best represent your fic, but don’t feel like they have to be perfect to be submitted. Along with the snippets, we will send your artist the basic fic info and your email, so the two of you can collaborate more if you would both like.

What are the rough drafts requirements? For the rough drafts, stories should be at least 80% complete. You will not have to turn them in to us, just assure us that you are at that point. Anything less is at the discretion of the mods and those authors should speak to one of the mods asap.

What is, and do I need, a beta? A beta is basically a person who goes over your work to make sure that there are no spelling/grammatical errors and they can even be of assistance in helping you with story lines, etc. It is highly recommended that a beta looks over your work before posting. If you are having trouble finding a beta, try this post.

Where can I post my fic/art? Stories and art can be posted to your own personal journal, tumblr, ff-net, AO3, or wherever you like. For those of you with AO3 accounts, we will set up a collection that will go live on the day of the posting. Also, we've enabled moderated posting to the comm (Livejournal and Dreamwidth) for members. We will post a template for posting artwork and stories to the comm closer to the posting date.

If you don’t currently have an AO3 account but would like one, you can contact the mods for an invitation code to see if they have any available. You can also add yourself to the AO3 Invites Request queue.

How do I know when to post? Posting will be tiered; you'll each get your own posting date that you and your artist will decide on together. There will probably be four fics, plus art, posting per day between August 8th and September 30th. The post with date claims will go up on July 23rd and you'll have to choose your date by August 1st.

If you want to post your story in chapters on AO3 or your own blog (or wherever you usually post), you may do so starting August 1st. However, posting has to be finished by your chosen posting date to the comm. One of the things we're hoping to do with the posted dates is to give everybody on the comm a little bragging time in the spotlight. You know, "this story was incomplete for this long, but I finished this sucker." If you don't have time to post on your chosen posting date, you can queue up a post ahead of time and we can post it on the date you picked. Either way works for us. Art will be due on the chosen posting date to the comm.

Is there a minimum/maximum requirement for my art? There is no strict minimum, but we do ask artists to remember that the authors are writing a minimum of 7,500 words and your artwork should reflect that. You can do anything you like, including banners, wallpapers, icons, mixes, vids, gif sets, picspams, etc. Suggested guidelines for art are 500x500px (or equivalent of smaller pieces like banner + spacers, cover + icons, etc.) for traditional art, digital art, and manips; 2 minutes for vids; 10 songs + cover art for mixes; and 6 images for gif sets and picspams. We also ask that when you are in contact with the author, you work with them to see if there is anything specific they would like (i.e. a wallpaper, book cover, etc.). The art is your work, but having ideas doesn't hurt!

What are 'art claims'? The claims are when anonymous summaries of the story go up for artists to choose from. It is based on a 'first come, first served' basis and artists may choose up to three potential stories (in case their first choice is unavailable). If there are more stories than artists, there will be a second round of claims wherein artists may choose a second story to work with. And on until all stories are claimed for art.

If a fic up for claiming is rated explicit (R, NC-17, etc.), please only claim the story if you are over 18 years of age. Some authors may be uncomfortable working with underage artists on explicit works. We do not verify ages in any way for the bang, so this is solely on the honor system.

Can I get an extension? Community extensions may be given in the event that the majority of the authors/artists need one. They may also be given individually under certain circumstances, but this must be discussed with the mods and will only be a short extension for posting. If you are certain that you won’t be able to finish your story in time, please let us know by June 13th.

What do I do if I have problems or concerns about my author/artist? Sometimes authors and artists do not get along and this may cause problems with working together. If this happens to be the case with you, please email the mods and we will try to do what we can so that everyone has a chance to have fun at WIP Big Bang!

If you have not heard from your author/artist in some time after trying to contact them, you can reach out to us via email and we will try to get in touch with them for you.

Can I drop out? We have high hopes that everybody who signs up can actually finish the round and share in the joy of the reveal with us, but real life can unfortunately get in the way and we completely understand! If you feel like you just cannot finish in time and no amount of assistance from us can help you, just let us know by July 13th (if at all possible).

Is it possible to be banned? We do have a banned users list. We hope to use this to encourage participants who are having issues to communicate with the mods. We want to help you! The way the ban works is that participants, either authors and artists, will be banned for dropping out without notifying a mod. This means that anyone who has not posted or talked to a mod by the time the posting period ends will be banned. Dropping out is not in and of itself a banning offense, so please do not panic if you have to drop out! We understand that there are many reasons you may need to drop, and we want to work with you.

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ateezmakemeweep · 4 years

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you’re the one that i want (part 5)

word count: 5k

fluff

(part 4) (series masterlist)

tag list: @chogiout ; @seonghwaslut ; @psshwa ; @yeocult ; @seongghwaa ; @cherryeonii ; @chaoticbanqtan ; @8teenee ; @nczenniez ; @atinyarmyx1 ; @mingtopiaa ; @chubsluda ; @myjiminmychimchim ; @mochibabycakes ; @jisungity ; @skz-on-my-mind ; @nlost21 ; @myonlyaurora ; @closer-stars ; @kuaenam3g ; @byungaji ; @floweryjh ;

when seonghwa doesn't see you down at the beach for the next three days, he can't even pretend not to be worried.

because even if you didn't want to go surfing anymore, he thinks you would have at least been down here at some point. high temperatures and the summer sun was quickly approaching and it seemed as if everyone but you and your aunt were at the beach these days.

"you lookin' for someone?" hongjoong asks, noticing the way seonghwa's eyes have been roaming the beach all day. they had come in from the harsh waves and laid out on their towels and chairs, waiting for jongho and yunho to come down with their food from the diner.

he snaps his head toward hongjoong and away from the other parts of the beach, particularly the parts right in front of your aunt's house, his eyes questioning and jaw slightly tensed.

"what?"

the redhead can only smirk, leaning up on his towel as he looks at his friend. "you lookin' to swim with y/n again?" seonghwa rolls his eyes at the boy, only proving his point further as to why he didn't want them knowing you two had been hanging out.

because after he walked you home a few nights ago, he went back down to the beach and found his three friends still seated around the fire.

"where the fuck were you?" hongjoong asks, his eyes lighting up upon seeing seonghwa but his words slurred and face flushed from all the beers. seonghwa rolls his eyes, pushing the boy over to make room on the blanket.

"told you i was walking."

hongjoong narrows his eyes, him and jongho poking at seonghwa and calling him a liar. they whined over and over for him to tell them what he was really doing, if he was up to something bad or meeting up with a girl.

he huffs and curses lowly at them, moving away to go to yunho who's talking to a few boys from his school.

"hey, you're back," the boy says, seonghwa humming before nodding a hello at the others. and it's not until they're going back to his house, hongjoong under seonghwa's arm and jongho under yunho's, when he starts getting harassed again.

"you gonna tell me where you went?" yunho asks with a smirk, throwing the two drunk boys on a blanket on the floor; he learned the hard way that when they're this shitfaced, there's a high probability of waking up to puke on the couch.

"you my fuckin' mom or something?" seonghwa growls out, going through the fridge to grab a bottle of water. "you want one?" yunho nods his head and catches it with ease, the two boys plopping down on the couch as they turn the tv on.

"you like y/n," the blue haired boy says simply.

seonghwa's upper lip curls in disgust and it'd look convincing to just about anyone but yunho, hongjoong or jongho. they know all too well how good seonghwa is at masking his emotions, pretending to feel something else even though he's softer than he lets on.

"i barely know her."

"but you're getting to know her. you were with her tonight, right?"

seonghwa pops his neck to the side as tension fills him, wondering why the fuck everyone is on his ass about this. what is it there business if he's getting to know anyone? why can't they just ignore him instead of asking question after question like a group of bored, gossiping housewives?

"no. i told you guys i went for a walk."

"five minutes after she did?" yunho asks, smirking because he can feel his friend getting irritated; but apparently seonghwa's forgetting about the torture they put him through last year, when he went on a first date with a girl and the three boys barged into the restaurant and demanded a table next to them.

so excuse him for wanting payback, especially when it's so rare for his friend to show interest in a girl.

"fuck off, i don't like her," seonghwa says, ignoring the way his body rejects that statement. "she's got too much..."

"baggage?" a drunken jongho offers from the floor, the dirty blonde kicking the boy in the ribs roughly. "no, you dick," seonghwa snaps, the blonde groaning as hongjoong laughs at him.

"even if she had baggage, she's pretty. i'd hold those bags."

yunho bites down on his lip and peeks at seonghwa who's staring down at them in disgust, trying not to laugh at just how obvious seonghwa's becoming. but he thinks it’s good, that seonghwa deserves someone like you who will open him up and maybe make him feeling something; even though for now, he’s probably gonna keep denying it.

"i told you i wasn't with her," seonghwa grumbles, kicking sand toward the boy as he sits in his chair. hongjoong dodges it though, turning his body before raising an eyebrow at the boy.

"so you guys just both happened to leave five minutes apart?"

seonghwa only shrugs his shoulders and looks away, knowing that if he tries to say anything more, it's gonna make him seem defensive. he watches the beachgoers and finds himself staring just a bit longer than normal at people who look like you, with similar hair and skin tone that always ends up not looking right.

why hasn't he seen you? and why does he care so much?

"all the tourists are already here, that place was fuckin' packed!" yunho says, carrying takeout bags of burgers and fries while jongho balances the drink tray; seonghwa takes one look at the struggling boy and feels himself sigh heavily.

"why does he have the drinks, he's gonna-" and promptly, the cupholder with four drinks topples over and lands facedown in the sand.

"drop them," seonghwa finishes with a groan, the two other boys snapping their heads to see jongho looking very guilty and shocked. "i was so close, you guys," the youngest boy whines, desperately trying to pick up the spilling drinks and shove them in the holder.

"okay, well we're not gonna drink them now!" hongjoong says.

"and?!" jongho exclaims dramatically. "i'm not a litterbug!"

seonghwa rolls his eyes before taking his food from yunho, watching in half annoyance and half amusement as jongho pushes clean sand over the sticky soda mess.

"perfect!" jongho says, plopping down on the blanket as he takes his sandwich out and unwraps it excitedly. "so did seonghwa finally admit to being with y/n last night?"

the boy in question looks at the blonde with his head cocked to the side, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched before he kicks his foot up and knocks the boy's food right into the sand.

"what. the. fuck!" jongho yelps, looking in devastation at his sandwich buried in the sand before whining seonghwa's name. but he only shrugs his shoulders, giving him a stern, unwavering stare that he only hopes will keep at least one of his friends off his back today.

the four of them make their way back to yunho's after eating and another quick dip in the ocean, currently bickering over the shower order as the blue haired boy watches in amusement.

"okay, but i got this gnarly cut on my back from when i fell, i think that means-"

"that you fucking suck. and don't ever use the word gnarly again."

yunho and seonghwa snort at the two boys, the banter between the older and younger always far too amusing. when they make their way on the sidewalk, they see your aunt taking out the garbage with a mask on her face. her eyes catch the boys as she meets them down at the sidewalk, waving at them and saying something that goes unheard.

"sorry but we can't understand you," yunho chuckles out, touching his face to indicate the mask; the woman smacks her head before lowering the blue fabric. "oh god, i'm sorry. i was asking how the water was today!"

her and yunho chat back and forth for a few moments, attempting to include the other boys in the conversation. seonghwa can't help but notice how happy and bubbly she is, her laugh contagious and smile bright.

"alright i won't keep you boys any longer. i should get back to y/n anyway, poor girl," she says. and the woman must see concern cross the boys faces, or maybe one boy's face in particular, because she begins to talk again. "she'd be the only person to catch a horrific cold when it's almost july."

seonghwa's eyes travel to the upstairs window, grazing the balcony and remembering how that room's light flickered on when he dropped you home the other night. the four of them say goodbye before rushing over to yunho's, hongjoong and jongho fighting to get through the doorway and to the shower on the second floor.

"so she got sick, huh?" yunho hums lowly, a smirk on his face. "happens to a lot of people who swim at night."

"yeah?" seonghwa challenges, narrowing his eyes at the boy before smacking him upside the head. "then there goes your little theory. i'm not sick."

and then just to be a dick, he charges toward yunho's bedroom and locks the ensuite despite the boy's groans of protest. the same groans present three hours later as the four of them walk to tonight's house party.

"maybe if you didn't take so long, we wouldn't be three hours late."

"maybe if you assholes didn't make me shower last at my own house, this wouldn't have happened." yunho side eyes seonghwa who literally wants to be anywhere else tonight, in no mood to mingle or deal with the loud, obnoxiousness of drunk teenagers.

"no one shows up on time anyway," the boy grumbles, rolling his eyes when he hears the music coming from the house; he gives himself two hours before he leaves.

but that was incredibly generous because after just 40 minutes, he is losing his mind. he's been standing in the same corner with the same cold, miserable look on his face, nodding his head when people come up to talk to yunho and hongjoong like they haven't been seeing him for years.

he comes every june, july and august to see visit his mom; or more accurately to house sit. she usually uses her summers off to travel, spending about a week with him before whatever boyfriend she has at the time jets them off to somewhere in europe.

he'd gotten used to the loneliness of his house, choosing to either go to yunho's or find a girl to spend the night with.

but tonight, any girl that eyes him, he shoots a look that screams 'please do not approach me.' because usually he's doing the very opposite at these events, using his obvious piercing eyes and charming smile to lure a girl over and bring her back back to his house so he can get off in her mouth.

but he's just not feeling all that inspired these days, especially not today when he finds that guilt and blame are weighing him down. when a woman's voice who he'd only met a number of times is ringing in his head.

"she'd be the only person to catch a horrific cold when it's almost july."

except it wasn't your fault, it was totally his doing; persuading you to go in the water and splash around for a good hour despite the whipping winds and cold temperature. but it had been fun, probably the most wholesome fun he'd had in a while. you had only ever seemed scared and wary of him when you hung out but he loved how much you laughed that night.

splashed him without a care and squealed when he threw you down in the water. he wasn't used to the feeling in his chest any time it happened, wanting to hear it again and again and be the reason for it.

but that would be crazy. because, as he so pointedly told yunho, he doesn't know you. he knows some things, that you're forgetful but also thoughtful, that there's someone who's avoiding your phone calls that you really wanna hear from, that you flinched away from him and sometimes act like a skittish, abused cat.

and if there's anything he knows about cats, it's that the skittish ones are hard to deal with. you make progress with them day by day, needing to have patience and a basic understanding of what upsets them or what they fear. but then the slightest mishap or mistake could send them reeling back to the state you found them: terrified and extremely jumpy.

but you're not a cat. you're a living, human being and he knows for someone to act like that, they'd need to endure a lot. possibly in a cycle of abuse, of any kind, that has left them scared and suspicious of people.

he's not quite sure why but a part of him wants to learn more about you. learn about what's happened to make you that way and be there for you in a way he needs someone too; because even though he doesn't really know how, he thinks he wants to try.

"seonghwa, we're doing flip cup. you coming?"

yunho saw the boy was spaced out for quite a bit, his back against the wall as he stared blankly ahead of him. he wonders what he was thinking about to be so distracted but figured if he asked, the boy would just lie anyway. the same way he knows he lies when he says he's gonna head home.

"what, are you sure?" yunho asks, "we just got here."

"yeah, no, not feeling it tonight," seonghwa says, nodding his head toward yunho, as jongho and hongjoong are already deep in their flip cup practice.

"beat those idiots. i'll see you tomorrow." yunho smirks and waves at his friend, the slightest suspicion in his bones that he'll be going back in the direction they came from.

and for the most part, yunho was right. but seonghwa did make a quick stop first after calling in a favor to the waitress he gave that $10 tip to.

you couldn't believe that after three days, you still felt like shit. your bones were aching and head was pounding the morning you woke up after night swimming, nearly hitting the floor when you got up to pee.

and you only got worse throughout the day, a 101 fever and chills that kept you huddled under your comforter for days. your aunt would come in, clad in a mask and sometimes even gloves, to give you food and keep you company.

"you don't have to bring my food, i could come down," you insisted. but you both knew that was a lie, if the way you could barely get up to use the bathroom was any indication. and while you were doing better now, you still felt weak and tired and welcomed the salty breeze that blew through the open doors of the balcony.

the fresh air had been nice but it also made you feel like you were missing out.

you hadn't been able to talk to seonghwa or yunho or anyone else for that matter but you found yourself wondering if they even noticed; you and seonghwa never said how long you guys were gonna hang out and surf for so it's not like you were indebted to one another.

but still, you don't like the idea of anyone thinking you forgot about them; it's a feeling you know all too well.

your aunt had gone to bed for the night and you just woke from a poorly timed nap, now past eleven o'clock as you lay in your bed watching a netflix series you just started. you lay there watching, thinking about running a hot bath or shower, when you hear something outside. you pick your head up and listen again, only listening to the familiar sounds of waves in the distance.

but then it happens again a few seconds later and you let out a tiny groan, slowly getting up and walking outside. you welcome the cool air on your hot skin, looking out into the yard before another rock comes up and just misses your foot.

"ow," you say softly, even though the rock didn’t touch you. "what the hell?" and then when you look over, you see no other than a smirking seonghwa standing there with a plastic to go bag in his hand.

"hey."

you stare down in shock, mouth slightly agape as you take in the sight of him just outside your window. what is he doing here? and why is he smiling at like that? and oh, my god you haven't washed your hair or left your bed in days and now he's really here looking as handsome as he usually does.

"hi. what- what are you doing here?" you immediately ask, grasping the side of the barrier keeping you from falling right off.

"brought you something, can i come up?"

"um, well, i’m- i'm sick, i don't want you to-"

but he ignores your words and walks forward, assessing the side of the house like he's trying to figure out his next move. you look over and see his face, shaking your head because the last thing you need is for your aunt's friends to see a boy scaling the side of her house; he could also trip and fall and then a surfing turtle knick knack certainly wouldn’t make up for that.

"you can't climb up! you could fall down and get hurt!"

his neck cranes up and he bites his cheek to not laugh, securing the bag on his wrist before bringing his hand to the white trellis on the side of the house littered with red and pink roses.

"seonghwa!" you whisper-yell, watching him smirk before he brings his hand back down. "you can't just scale the side of her house. i'll come down and-"

you watch him roll his eyes at you carelessly before walking over to the other side, your eyes widening and cheeks warming in embarrassment when you're reminded that there is, in fact, a spiral staircase leading up to this very balcony.

you hear his heavy footsteps until he's standing in front of you, your hair messy and knotted while he looks like he stepped out of a magazine; you've been wearing the same pajamas for the past three days and you don't even wanna know how sick and sweaty you smell.

"did you know there was a staircase the whole time?" you asked quietly, your cheeks burning in the cool night air. and then even more when his lips quirk into a smirk, nodding his head at you.

you let out a tiny sigh, overwhelmed with the need to sit as you plop down on the purple patio furniture. he watches you carefully, the way you curl up and rest your head on your arm like walking over had exhausted you.

you can't find it in you to speak as you think about how horrifically ill you must look right now. because your head is still pounding and your body is just aching, probably from laying around for 72 hours.

"how you feeling?" he asks, walking over to sit down next to you. but you quickly scoot away as far as you can. "

i feel better but i could still be contagious," you tell him softly. "i don't wanna get you sick."

"i think it'd be fair if you did," he says lowly, "since it's my fault in the first place." you look over at him with a slight frown on your face, shaking your head immediately.

"no it's not."

he watches you with a skeptical expression, his eyebrow raised and jaw tight causing you to shrug your shoulders. "it's not...because how come you're not sick, then?" because you're a big, strong man? you're tempted to say but refrain, partially because you don't know how he'll react to teasing right now and because he is, in fact, a big, strong man.

"whatever," he mumbles, still feeling slightly at blame for your current state. but it’s nothing like the stupid nervousness running through his body right now, the plastic bag in his hand a reminder of what he came over here to do.

but the more he thinks about it, the more creepy he feels. who just walks on to someone's balcony and gives them food without warning?

but it's too late now and he's already half way there, popping his neck to the side before placing the bag down next to you. "your aunt told us before that you were sick,” he says, toying with the straps of the plastic bag. “so i... wanted to bring you this."

your eyebrows pull together, looking at him in confusion before he nods his head toward the mysterious item. you purse your lips to the side and hesitantly peak inside, feeling your hands touch something hot before the smell of chicken broth hits your nose.

he didn't get you...

"it's soup. just chicken noodle," he says, feeling more and more uncomfortable by this exchange; what a sappy idiot he looks like right now, it's really kind of pathetic. "don't know if you like that but when your aunt said that you were sick, i-"

"no," you immediately blurt out, cutting him off as you snap your head to look at him. he looks at you in confusion and you can't help the smile that makes it way on your face. "i like it. i love it. it's one of my favorites. thank you."

he can't help but smile at your words, feeling himself relax slightly at your reaction; he had a feeling you'd be too polite to act upset or offended but it didn't stop the fear and embarrassment from flooding through him.

he doesn't do things like this, he's not thoughtful or considerate of others. he doesn't think to go out of his way for people or surprise them with things for just the sake of them needing comfort. though here he is now, handing you over a bowl of soup he just knew he needed to give you the second your aunt said you weren’t feeling good.

and why? for what? why you?

but then your eyes soften and mumble a quiet, "thank you," rummaging through the bag with a small smile on your lips and it hits him that that is why. he watches you slurp quietly, humming softly as it warms your throat before your smile widens.

"this is good," you sigh out, almost embarrassed by how touched and happy you are over a bowl of soup. "thank you."

"welcome," he mumbles, suddenly finding the view of the beach all too captivating to ignore. you slurp up the noodles and broth beside him, occasionally seeing him turn to stare at you.

"you're a loud eater," he says and you narrow your eyes at him, slurping purposely louder and causing him to lowly chuckle. he turns away so you can finish, biting his lip at the little content noises leaving you.

he hears you fiddle with the bag as you put the empty container away, a few moments of silence stretching between you two. you're still so stupidly touched by the gesture and it really shows just how deprived you are of kind people in your life. but how can you not be happy? it's a summer night and he's spent it bringing you over soup.

"you didn't have to do that, you know," you find yourself saying softly. because as nice as it was and as happy as you are, you would've never ever expected this from anyone.

he looks over at you when those words leave your mouth, resting his arm back against the couch cushions as he licks at his lip. "i wanted to," he tells you.

he wanted to because he feels guilty, you hear that voice in your head say, it has nothing to do with you and everything to do about his conscience.

“it was my choice to try night swimming,” you say, voice quiet and shaky as you try to calm your facing hart. “it wasn't your fault so you don’t have to, like, feel bad or anything...”

“what aren't you getting?” he asks, the words immediately causing you to swallow nervously and look at him. “anything i do, i want to do. i'm never gonna feel inclined to do something just for the hell of it."

you bite the inside of your cheek at his words, sinking back into the couch defensively. his words and tone aren't mean or biting, more so just blunt and straight forward, but they still make you oddly nervous, nodding your head as a quiet "okay," eventually leaves your mouth.

and maybe it's because he doesn't answer that you blurt out some more things. things you really wish you hadn't said to him.

"it's just that...people normally don't wanna do those things for me." your voice is mousy and shaky and it's such a small thing to say but makes you feel incredibly vulnerable.

you can't help but think about how your parents have never made food for you while you were sick, how even after getting your tonsils removed or when you had a broken foot, they didn't cater to you in the slightest. they still made you walk to school and fend for yourself for dinner most nights, telling you that it wasn't their job to make your life easier.

and it’s not even like you have friends that could’ve done anything for you; most things you just do for yourself, apart from the times you’re here with your aunt.

"well i normally don't wanna do those things for people, so i guess we're both new to this.”

you turn your head to meet his gaze and he’s able to see just how much you really mean those words, your eyes twinged with sadness and confusion like you're trying to figure out what the hell he wants from you; but he doesn't really have an answer for that either, so you’ll be finding out together it seems.

a smile lights up your face before you look down at the cushion, pushing your hand into it and seeing the imprint pop up. "i guess," you say lowly. there's a warm feeling in your chest and a pulling in your stomach that really likes the sound of that, the both of you learning things together.

"now tell me," he says with a smirk, your head snapping up to meet his gaze again. "did you get sick the time you went skinny dipping?"

your cheeks flush and you giggle into your hand, slapping his arm lightly causing him to smile.

"is that a no?" he teases, your whine of "stop," causing him to smile.

you both stay out there until you can barely keep your eyes open, staying within safe topics of his friends and what else they like to do in this small beach town. you tell him about your aunt’s friends and how crazy the bingo nights can really get, a lot more sneaky cheaters than one would think.

"i think i wanna come to the next one," he hums lowly, a tired chuckle leaving your mouth as you shake your head. he can tell you’re getting tired by the droopiness of your eyes, a pink flush on your cheeks from the cold and he's half tempted to order you back inside.

but then you tiredly smile at him and he cant bring himself to leave you yet. he doesn't wanna go home to an empty house or back to that party when he could be here getting to know all about the...wholesome activities you do.

"they'll attack you," you mumble sleepily, remembering how all of the widowed woman attacked nancy's ex-boyfriend when she bought him once. "they're not used to men."

he smirks over as he looks at you, your eyes closed and head swaying in your hand before it falls off and onto the cushion. your eyes pop open and your cheeks burn, shaking away the drowsiness as you smile shyly.

"sorry. i shouldn't even be tired. i slept so much these past three days."

he can't help but smile over at you, shaking his head before looking over your cold, tired figure. "maybe you should go to bed."

but that's the last thing you wanna do; you wanna stay out here with him for just a little longer. because oddly enough, even though you haven’t known him very long, you missed his presence.

"no i'm okay," you insist with a smile, attempting to perk up. "unless you're tired."

"i'm good," he smirks, "do you have a blanket though?"

you jump up at the comment, ignoring the pounding in your head and the call of seonghwa's voice as you grab the white throw blanket at the end of your bed.

"here you go," you say, resting the blanket on his lap before sitting back down before you collapse. but then you think you might pass out anyway when he moves closer to you, taking the blanket from his lap and securing it around your body.

his hand lingers on your arm as he covers you completely, deeming you successfully warmed before he pulls back slightly.

"can't have you getting more sick," he mumbles, his long fingers playing with the end of the white fabric. you can only swallow nervously, not daring to move a muscle as his fingers rest on the blanket covering a part of your thigh.

and after a few moments of silence, attempting to control your ragged breathing between him and the cold, you hear him speak up again.

"y/n, it’s chilly, i really think you should-"

"no," you whine, a pout on your tired face as you lean the side of your head on the cushion. you look up at him and see his eyes move to your lips, lingering for a few moments before back at your face.

"you don't even know what i was gonna say," he says, his deep voice low but laced with amusement.

"you were gonna tell me to go inside," you say, quirking your eyebrows up playfully. "and i don't wanna."

"but you should," he hums, his hard gaze softening without his knowledge.

you only shake your head with a small smile, burying it in to the soft purple cushion as your eyes move to watch the calmness of the beach. he allows himself a few extra moments to look over your face, that unfamiliar pulling feeling in his chest making him wanna reach out an place his arm around you.

but he only keeps his hand on your leg, his long, ring-covered fingers toying with the blanket covering your pink pajamas pants.

and it only takes a few minutes for your eyes to close and body to relax again, seonghwa feeling a weight on his shoulder while he watches the dark waves crash. he looks down and sees your eyes are closed, breaths slow and even against his shirt and he shakes his head despite the small smile on his face.

he secures the blanket around you, admiring your sleeping face once more before he accepts the fact that, perhaps, you're about to change his whole summer.

(part 6)

#seonghwa #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa series #ateez #ateez fluff #ateez series #seonghwa imagines #seonghwa scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios

734 notes · View notes

violetevents · 4 years

Note

could u do williex 1! soulmate aus may or may not be my favorite thing ever🧎🏻‍♀️

oh boy anon have you come to the right adres I LOVE SOULMATE AU’S SO VERY MUCH. anyway here’s a classic timer one. it does mention both alex and willie’s death so warning for that. also i got really into it and now its like,,, 1k whoops. enjoy!! :D

1st of May, 1981

Willie is 10 years old when his timer appears. He’s been looking forward to this moment, the moment he finally gets to know when he will meet his soulmate. He stares at his timer in awe, amazed that the moment is finally here. His excitement is quickly dampened, however, when the numbers start to sink in.

39:4:9:6:20:3

39 years, 4 months, 9 days, 6 hours, 20 minutes, 3 seconds.

Nearly 40 years. Willie is heartbroken when he realizes. He will be an old man when he finally meets his soulmate. He always had this fantasy he would meet his soulmate immediately, like his sister did, and they could play together and go on fun adventures. But instead he has to wait 40 years. He suddenly likes timers a lot less.

Stupid soulmate.

23rd of February, 1988

It gets better, over the years. Willie becomes older, wiser. Knows meeting his soulmate at fifty won’t be that bad. He’ll have time to explore life on his own, and then him and his soulmate will still have a few good years together before they’ll die. He’s seventeen now, and he has plans, hopes, dreams.

He’s picked up skateboarding recently, and he’s gotten pretty good at it. He likes cruising the city, wind in his hair, leaving all of his worries behind.

He’s on his way home from the skate park that day, and he’s kind of late for dinner, and his mom will be on his ass about it, so he figures he might as well take a short cut. It will take him straight through traffic, but it will probably be fine. At least it’s faster.

(It’s not fine. There’s a sound of squealing tires, a bang, and then there’s his skateboard, rolling across the street without Willie on it.

The skateboard slips under a set of abandoned wooden crates behind a McDonalds. It will be years until someone finds it.)

( 24th of February, 1988

Ten year old Alex Mercer looks at his timer with a frown. Apparently it will take at least 32 years before he meets his soulmate. That’s ridiculous. He will be an old man before they get to hang out.

Stupid soulmate.)

9th of June, 1995

On a nondescript street in LA, they’re starting construction on a McDonalds. It’s meant to make way for an apartment building. One of the construction workers starts on the back alley, which is full of unnecessary junk. He clears away some crates, grumbling about getting stuck with the shittiest jobs, when he stumbles across a skateboard. It looks old, but sturdy enough, and excitedly he takes it back to the other guys.

They try to skate on it for a bit, joking about, until the foreman yells at them to get back to work. The skateboard gets thrown into a garbage container. Nobody notices the young man that has suddenly appeared next to the container, looking scared, and alone, and incredibly out of place.

(22nd of July, 1995

The Orpheum. Alex still can’t quite believe it. They’re really going to play The Orpheum. He glances at his soulmate timer more out of habit than anything. Still 25 years to go. He wonders of his soulmate will be proud of everything he has achieved when they finally meet. He takes a bite of his street dog. Maybe his soulmate is in the music business, too. That would be cool.

He chews his hotdog thoughtfully and frowns. “That’s a new flavor.”)

3rd of September, 1995

It’s been two months of this ghosty business, and Willie is still struggling coming to grips with it. The first thing he did when he came back was check his wrist, but his timer was still there, happily ticking away. Except he had somehow skipped 7 years. So now he was only 25 years away from meeting his soulmate.

He gets it now, why his time was so long. He always thought it was cruel because it would take forever, but he’s slowly starting to realize it’s even crueler. He will have to wait forever for his soulmate, and they might not even be able to see him. They could be a lifer. He could be forced to spend forever watching them live and wonder why he never showed his face.

Scared, and desperate for answer, he walks into the only place he knows might have some answers. Many ghosts have warned him off, but he doesn’t see any other way. He wants to meet his soulmate, no matter what it takes.

“Hi,” he says, to a waiter standing near the door of the Hollywood Ghost Club. “I’m looking for Caleb Covington?”

(Caleb doesn’t have the answers, but he does now have Willie’s soul. Willie figures it’s fine. He’s never going to meet his soulmate anyway, what does he need a soul for?)

(24th of August, 2020

In the end it’s the sound of their own music that brings them back, because of course it is. There’s a girl screaming and there’s a lot of confusion, and has it really been 25 years?!

Alex glances down at his wrist. There’s only 16 days left.)

10th of September 2020

Willie is planning on spending his day aggressively ignoring his timer, and he figures the best way to do that is to get out his skateboard and take it for a roll. Even after all these years, the one thing that never fails to cheer him up is the wind in his hair and the sun on his face. The streets are full of people, but that’s not a problem, not anymore.

It’s gotten better, over the years, the whole being dead business. He’s even kind of enjoying it now. Yeah, sure, Caleb has his soul, but he has a lot of fun at the HGC, so is that really so bad? He has friends now. He goes to parties. It’s not really that different from being alive

There’s still that little voice inside of him, that little voice of ten year old Willie who just wanted a friend, someone to hang with, a soulmate. But most days he silences that voice. Who needs a soulmate when you have skating?

There’s a blond guy walking a few feet away from him, looking anxious. Willie is busy trying to think of a witty thing to say when he phases through him, but instead he finds himself smashing into the boy.

Suddenly he’s on the floor, and he’s looking up, and there’s twin beeps.

They both look at their timer and then at each other and it’s like the world stops for a seconds. Somehow Willie never realized that his soulmate could be a ghost. That they could be together even though they’re dead. He blinks, and then the blond guy is sticking out a hand and helping him up and life around them moves on like nothing just happened. Like the world hasn’t just changed.

“Hi,” Blond guy says, kind of bashfully. “I’m Alex.”

“Willie,” he says, smiling widely. “So, you’re my soulmate, huh?”

Alex blushes slightly, and he looks absolutely adorable when doing so. “I guess I am, yeah.”

They just stand there for a moment, grinning at each other. It took them both years, but here they finally are.

Together.

(Willie’s really going to have to see about that soul of his. Turns out he might need it after all.)

#willex #jatp drabbles #drabbles #I ACTUALLY REALLY LIKE THIS ONE THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING IT #Anonymous

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bleachluna · 3 years

Text

Letters

Ended up skipping day 2 of @hitsukarinweek as I had no ideas for it but here’s my fic for day 3! Also on AO3

Dear Toshiro,

Can you please explain to me how the hell Soul Society managed to copy mobile phones from humans, and even put hollow tracking technology in them, but didn't make them able to send stuff across realms? I know you explained that SS phones in soul society can only contact those in soul society, and when they're here in the human world they can only contact those here, but I only realised how ridiculously stupid that is until after you left. What if there's an emergency and you need to contact someone across realms for whatever reason? Surely you need to get this fixed, I cannot believe if I want to talk to you I'm stuck writing letters like it's the 1800s. I'm even writing more formally than I expected, apparently letter writing brings it out of me and I absolutely hate it. You've gotta fix it. Not to mention I'm not a fan of leaving letters for Urahara to pass on for me, I'm not totally convinced he won't read them.

Anyway, it's been a couple of months since I saw you last. That's probably a good thing, that a captain hasn't been needed here, but I'll admit I wonder about you sometimes, I hope everything is ok on your end! I don't know what it was about turning sixteen but all of a sudden all of this stuff about trying to figure out careers is on me constantly. Yuzu figured out years ago that she wanted to go into healthcare, she took to it way back when we were kids. She was originally planning to go into nursing but her grades have improved a lot recently, she might be a doctor instead, but she's also thinking about midwifery. So there's stuff she's gotta figure out for sure, but at least she knows what area she wants to go into? I don't even have that. I mean how do you figure out what to do with the rest of your life when you're sixteen? I haven't even figured myself out yet. How did you decide to become a shinigami?

Other than that though things are ok. School is a little stressful because grades suddenly feel so much more important, but the work's manageable at least. Hollow level seems to be stable at the minute too which is great, one less thing to worry about! And Urahara improved his reiatsu blocking bracelet thing, I've had this one for almost four months and it hasn't broken so even less chance of getting eaten! Always a plus. But anyway, I hope things are good on your end as well, and that you aren't buried up to your ears in paperwork. Let me know if you ever have any plans to pop up in the human world!

Best Wishes,

Karin

P.S. - I sent this on the 22nd of June, let me know when this gets to you/when you send yours, I wanna know what sort of delivery time we're looking at here.

- - - - -

Dear Karin,

I don't even remotely have the skills or know-how to fix something like that, that's what the Research & Development Team is for. I agree it's a little daft that our mobile phones can't send things across realms, but I'm sure said team knows this and is likely working on it, as you said, it would be unfortunate in an emergency situation. Plus I know Urahara can be a little eccentric, but do you really think he'd read the letters? I'm sure it's fine.

It is a good thing I've not been needed, the last thing Karakura needs is more trouble and destruction. Have they managed to rebuild that major bridge you were talking about yet? Everything is alright here, or at least in my division anyway. I've been kept busy recently, a set of students graduated from the academy last month so I've had 18 new recruits to introduce to squad 10. As for the careers stuff, I honestly assumed from the work you did here and there for the clinic that you were interested in healthcare as well, I take it that's not actually the case then? Do you at least have rough ideas of the sort of thing you'd want to go into? I'm not sure I'll be much help in that respect, I can't wrap my head around half of the jobs that seem to exist in the human world. In some ways I had it easier, the choice was out of my hands. My reiatsu was getting stronger and Hyorinmaru came to me before I even knew what was happening, I needed to go to the academy to make sure my reiatsu didn't become dangerous, therefore I became a shinigami. I never had to wonder what to do with myself in terms of employment.

I'm glad to hear things are going well with you, I'm certainly glad to hear you don't have to worry as much about the bracelet breaking. Is your reiatsu still increasing? If it's stabilising that might be part of why this new bracelet is managing better. I know you're not particularly interested in getting involved with shinigami stuff, which frankly I agree with, but if your reiatsu is still increasing I do think it's worth training you to hide it properly. I am unfortunately always at least a little buried in paperwork, particularly recently with the new recruits, but it's manageable. I don't think I'll be in the human world soon, but I will let you know if I plan to.

Best Wishes,

Toshiro

P.S. - I got your letter on the 2nd of July, I should be handing this letter over to be sent on the 4th, schedule permitting.

- - - - -

Dear Toshiro,

Well I hope you make sure that the research team are working on it, because this really is ridiculous. And you're kidding right? I trust Urahara about as far as I can throw him, which is probably all of three feet.

The bridge is still being rebuilt, but I think they're in the last stages now thank god. All the diversions needed really messed with the traffic, maybe I can finally stop leaving the house half an hour earlier just to get to my soccer club. It's supposed to be twenty minutes max by bus and it's been taking easily twice that. Let me know if you find out which shinigami it was that released their zanpakuto on that bridge, I have some choice words for them.

An entire class of students graduated and you only got 18 newbies at the tenth? Was it a small class or is that the normal kind of numbers you see? I assumed there's like, thousands and thousands of shinigami, is there less than I thought? Is that why I only ever see you and Rukia besides the dude who's currently stationed here? And I don't know about going into healthcare, that's my whole problem! I don't know what I want. Healthcare is fine but I don't feel like it's my life purpose to go into it either so yeah, I don't know. Healthcare would be alright, sports would be cool maybe? But I don't think there's a whole lot of sports careers outside of professional (which is definitely not happening) or teaching, and I'm not convinced I'm the teacher type. I just don't seem to have this strong urge to go in a particular direction like Yuzu does. But wow, I didn't know that, you basically HAD to train to be a shinigami? I didn't know that was a thing that could happen, that your reiatsu can go that far on its own. That kind of sucks though doesn't it? That you had no choice? I hope you enjoy being a shinigami at least.

To be honest I think my reiatsu probably is still going up. I don't think it's as quick as it was before, it's settled a little bit, probably because there hasn't been much danger around recently, but I do think it's still inching up. Is that a huge issue? Obviously it became a huge issue with you so now I'm kinda nervous. I'm not gonna get kidnapped into the shinigami am I? I can train to hide my reiatsu without actually becoming a shinigami right? Frankly I trust you more on this than Urahara. And you better let me know in advance if you can, Yuzu says she wants to make you those dumplings you liked again.

Best Wishes,

Karin

P.S. - I got excited at first thinking that sending these took less than two weeks, that didn't seem that bad considering we're sending them via Urahara whenever someone comes through realms, but then your letter took almost a month to come, it arrived on the 27th :( I'm handing this letter over on the 28th.

- - - - -

Dear Karin,

The Research & Development Team is not under my command, they belong to the twelfth, I cannot make sure that they're working on it, but I shall ask at the next opportunity I get. I think you're selling yourself short, I'm sure you could get at least five feet, but I do see your point, I can't say I fully trust him either, not on an individual basis anyway. I trust him to want the best for everybody, and to work towards that, but I don't think he pays attention to what that means for the individuals in the situation. More of a 'the end justifies the means' sort of person from what I've heard. And I'm afraid I have no idea who it was who damaged the bridge, but given they were fighting a powerful hollow at the time I imagine it was the correct course of action. Better on the bridge than in the middle of town.

I get the impression there is less shinigami than you think. Most squads have just over two hundred or so members, so 18 new recruits is actually a pretty good year. As for why you only really see me or Vice-Captain Kuchiki, it's a combination of needing a strong enough shinigami to deal with the sort of problems that crop up in Karakura, while also needing said shinigami to have a vague clue on how to navigate the human world. Vice-Captain Kuchiki presumably has rather extensive knowledge having lived in the human world for months, and I've been known to visit for years so they know I'm alright with being there as well. I think it's alright to not have an idea of a 'life's purpose' when you're in your second year of high school. Maybe just pick something for now as a sort of in-between while you continue working out what it is you want? Sometimes a job is just a job after all. You could always try a career in sports and see how it goes if it interests you now, and switch later on? I'm sure you'll figure something out. I'll admit I was definitely reluctant to train as a shinigami at first, it was never something I wanted originally, so it was hard to deal with to begin with I suppose, but I don't mind it these days. It's stressful, but at least I'm doing something where I'm trying to keep people safe, that suits me well enough.

Unfortunately yes, in my case my reiatsu continuously going up was an issue, but I don't think it's as serious with you. Firstly, you've not got a zanpakuto knocking on your subconscious as far as I know (the telltale giveaway is weird dreams where someone/something is trying to talk to you and tell you it's name, in case you were worried about that), and the people around you aren't vulnerable. You're unlikely to cause issues with your reiatsu because everyone around you has some degree of spiritual power already. As for the other questions, I certainly hope you won't be kidnapped into the shinigami, and I don't think your brother or even Urahara would let that happen, but it's possible you'll get Soul Society's attention if it keeps going unchecked. Of course with Urahara keeping on eye on it and keeping the reiatsu blocking bracelet on you, I'd argue that it's largely taken care of and shouldn't get other shinigami on you. There isn't much shinigami training you can do without becoming a shinigami, but you can learn to withdraw and hide your reiatsu even as a human so don't worry about that. I would say to ask your brother but he's never been very good at controlling his, Urahara is your other option, or possibly Vice-Captain Kuchiki if she's around. Or if those don't work out and your reiatsu gets to a point where you're truly worried about it let me know, I'll train you in it myself if it comes to it. Also, I appreciate the thought but your sister doesn't need to go to trouble like that for me.

Best Wishes,

Toshiro

P.S. - I got your letter on the 17th of August. I think it's safe to say they take anywhere from over a week to just under a month to arrive each time.

- - - - -

Dear Toshiro,

Let me know what the research team says! If they say they're not working on it please heavily suggest that they do, and if they say they are working on it, please ask how long they think it'll take them. Just think how much easier communicating would be if we could just call each other. The end justifies the means is EXACTLY Urahara's vibe, which is exactly why I don't really trust him. So yeah, it wouldn't even remotely surprise me if he's been reading these the entire time, better to assume the worst and be pleasantly surprised than the other way around. I suppose you have a point about the bridge being a better location than in the middle of a bunch of people, I'll put up with inconvenient travel times over unnecessary death.

Only a little over two hundred per squad? There is less than I thought! That's way less than your average university over here, that's crazy! 18 newbies is good in that case, your squad must be pretty popular. And no wonder I only really ever see you or Rukia, you guys clearly need to work on getting more people up to the speed with the human world or you're gonna end up over-worked! I guess I could just go for sports now and switch later? I don't know, you kinda get it into your head that you've gotta figure out what you want and stick to it, but I guess there's nothing actually stopping me from changing paths later. Once school goes back in I'm gonna get a meeting and talk to the careers lady, see what she says. I'm glad you're alright with being a shinigami now, hopefully it isn't stressful too much of the time.

Well, I'll take your word for it, you know more than me on this but I'm still kinda wary. You're right that there's no zanpakto trying to get my attention so far at least so that's something. If I do get kidnapped by the shinigami I'm trusting you to break me back out, but yeah that is kind of the whole point of the bracelet, that it blocks off my reiatsu from others so hollows can't find me so easily (and shinigami apparently, yeesh) so hopefully this won't actually be an issue. I don't really want to ask Urahara to train me but I will if I have to I guess. Asking Rukia's a good idea though! I'll ask whenever she next pops up, she seems like she'd be good at that sort of thing, maybe that'll solve this whole situation. Or you know, you, if you happen to come sooner, whoever comes to the human world next I guess! I'd feel better knowing that I myself could do the thing the bracelet's doing. Although I do have a question, how do you do it in your sleep? Or is it not possible and you're just vulnerable a third of the time? That seems unfortunate. Also you're kidding right? Cooking is the primary way my sister shows her care and affection, if she wants to cook for you there's no stopping her so you can at least give us notice so we can get ingredients and stuff.

Best Wishes,

Karin

- - - - -

Dear Karin,

I will let you know what the research team says as soon as it actually comes up. I can see your point, I suppose it is better to plan for the worst and be pleasantly surprised otherwise. Good to see you have your priorities in order, is the bridge finally finished though?

I remember being surprised by the size of your high school, I assume universities are even bigger? Must be an administrative nightmare to keep track of all those students, I feel like I can have a hard enough time with the 226 members I have. Squad 10 was surprisingly popular this year, the only other squads who had numbers like that were the sixth and the eleventh, both of which always have high numbers. We did have 'human world' classes at the academy at one point, but they ended up being scrapped a decade or so ago, any information learned was rendered almost completely obsolete within a few years, meaning the stuff the students learned was more or less useless by the time they were actually getting stationed in the human world. These days we just give a brief information pack about the human world before they leave, currently being updated semi-regularly by Vice-Captain Kuchiki. Meeting with a staff member whose job it is to deal with career pathways certainly sounds like a good idea, I hope it goes well if it hasn't already taken place.

Once again, I certainly hope Soul Society would try such a thing, it would be incredibly stupid considering I don't think your brother, who damn near took on the whole of Soul Society and pretty much came out on top, would ever let you get kidnapped in the first place. And I'm fairly sure me, a captain, breaking out someone Soul Society captured is probably considered treason of some kind, but I can promise I'll be in your corner one way or another. Not to mention, I don't think most shinigami would be prepared for you anyway, most are too used to sword combat, I don't think the average shinigami would handle your hand to hand very well. I'm sure you've got nothing to worry about. As for hiding your reiatsu in your sleep, generally speaking you just practice it enough that it becomes second nature, most shinigami do it subconsciously after a while, including in sleep, although nightmares and the like can interfere a little bit. Your sister has met me what, three times? She feels strongly enough to cook for me? It really is unnecessary although I'm sure the thought is kind. I did say I'd give you notice if I came to the human world though, our sensors are showing an increase in hollow activity in Karakura recently. We're currently just monitoring, we're holding off for now as it might be temporary, but if it gets worse I'm coming to monitor the situation properly and to make sure no incidents happen with the hollow increase. Judging from the current rate, if it keeps going as is I'll probably be there in two weeks or so. With any luck this letter will arrive before I do but if not, I'll make sure to meet up with you somewhere.

Best Wishes,

Toshiro

- - - - -

Dear Toshiro,

Your letter got here super quick, less than a week after I sent mine! Looks like there's increased shinigami activity to match the hollow activity, which boy, you're not kidding that its increased. My reiatsu's jumped up again and I couldn't tell you if it was a response to all the hollows around, or that the hollows arrived because of me. I really hope it's the former. Hopefully you'll be here soon! I think I could do with the training sooner rather than later and if I'm being honest I'd feel safer. But anyway, in response to your letter:

The bridge is actually finished! Just in time for the increased hollows to fuck it up again I'm sure! Most universities are like 10,000 to 30,000 easy, and I think some are bigger than that? So yeah, only two hundred or so shinigami per squad is insane to me. I'm pretty sure the universities have whole administrative teams just for the purpose, does your squad have an admin person at all or is it just you? When I first found out about the shinigami I didn't think I'd sit here wondering about the bureaucracy of it all but here I am. Oh wow I would've loved to sit in one of those human world classes, would've been hilarious I bet. At least you give newly stationed people something, I imagine the culture shock must be a bit much, I'm sure Rukia's information is very accurate given how much time she's spent here. And the careers meeting is actually in two days, I kinda nervous about it to be honest, but hopefully it'll be helpful.

Well I suppose when you put it that way Soul Society kidnapping me would very much be poking the bear huh? I'm extremely saddened to hear that you wouldn't commit treason for me though, what kind of friendship is this??? But I suppose I'll take comfort in you being 'in my corner one way or another', whatever that means. Does it mean in the event of soul society kidnapping me and forcing me to be a shinigami you'd immediately put me in your squad? That's the vibe I'm getting. But that's good to know about the hand to hand combat and the reiatsu withdrawing while still asleep, I'll bear those both in mind. As for your potential visit, given hollows seem to be popping up left right and centre I'm assuming you're probably coming in a week or so, I'll look out for your arrival! I get the impression this letter isn't going to get to you before you arrive in the human world but just in case it does I'll let you know, Yuzu added the dumpling ingredients onto her shopping list. That means you've gotta be at our house for at least one dinner! Consider it repayment for the training I'm gonna demand from you.

Hope you get here safe,

Karin

#hitsukarin #hitsukarinweek #hitsukarinweek2021 #toshiro hitsugaya #karin kurosaki #bleach #my writing #once again strongly recommend reading this on the blog itself or ao3 #the dash formatting is not great and this is a little under 4k

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

Text

Fourth Coming

Fandom: The Wilds Rating: T Word Count: 2157

Summary: And on the twenty-third day, Nora ate goat and thought about love.

Nora sees the experiment through two lenses, like the red and blue acetate in those cheap 3D glasses. One lens is the scientific, the other is the brutal. When she puts these metaphorical glasses on, she’s just there, in the middle of it, but when she’s feeling particularly tired (understandably often) or just relaxed (inexplicably often—a fact to be concealed from the others), she shifts between the two views. Each is sharper alone than they are combined.

Scientific: counting the days; subtly taking her own inventory of the rations; monitoring Fatin’s dehydration, the commensurate level of distrust the rest of the group have for her.

Brutal: cold fingers in wet, black sand, disinterring Jeanette’s grave; Dot’s tumbling, shivering recount of spearing and battering a snake; ralphing, ralphing, ralphing bad mussels.

It isn’t until the goat that these contrary perspectives finally attain a kind of beautiful balance in Nora’s brain. And it isn’t her thoughts, or rereading one of her journal entries, that has her mental clouds clearing. Actually, it’s what Leah says. About barbecues and normalcy and the Fourth of July. Leah’s remark—possibly offhand, certainly poisonous, even if Nora can’t see how yet—gracelessly and unselfconsciously reveals the barbarism of order. A social gathering on the same day each year, centered around fire (fireworks, sure, but Nora is amazed by how dazzled people are by something not so very far advanced from what had the cavepeople oohing and awwing) and the cooking of meat. Ritual is the summit at which the scientific and the brutal join hands.

The day doesn’t matter. (Every day could have been June 29th and what difference would that have made for them on this island?) The conditions of their environment haven’t changed. (No major shift in the seasons or significant weather patterns, just the single freakish high tide.) The slaughter of the goat and the subsequent cookout should be put down to chance, Nora knows. Toni, Martha, and Shelby decided to look for food. Martha happened to find the goat. She happened to lay her hands on a tool that could do the job. She happened to be successful. And now, miraculous barbecue in honour of… what?

Nora’s sure that most of the girls would say the feast is in honour of themselves, their power, their survival. All of that would really put a spit-shine on Gretchen’s mission statement, but Nora’s not just an agent, a plant, a spy, a wolf in castaway’s clothing. She seeks to understand as much as she always has. She wonders if Shelby thanks god for the goat, or eats it as a form of praise. Nora constantly spots her toying with the cross on her necklace, frequently in a way that holds it far from her throat, almost like she’s thinking about ripping the necklace off and hurling it into the ocean. That would be going a bit far, but then, so is hacking your hair off because a brush got stuck.

Their ritual could be the sacrifice of another creature in the hopes of sparing themselves—a kind of desperate, gasping celebration. Privately, Nora decides they’re celebrating love. Leah’s persistent aura of tragic romance is part of the inspiration for that, but she isn’t part of either of the two developing relationships Nora’s been observing.

Martha’s picking at her goat meat glumly, so Nora rises and goes over to her. Her gait is unsteady on this sand and on these legs, weakened over the past two days of starvation, but it’s enough to carry her until she can slump down next to Martha. Sweet and strong, vulnerable and clearly capable (judging by the sizzle of fat dripping from the roasting goat leg and hitting the fire), Martha smiles when Nora joins her. Nora smiles back and that’s enough between them for a few minutes.

Nora watches the browned meat, nearly allowing herself to be hypnotized by the texture that urges her to sink her teeth in, the crispy spots she knows would taste incredible. But she can’t gorge herself; her stomach needs to be cool about what she’s already eaten or the chewed up goat goes the way of the slurped mussels Rachel found.

Carefully, Nora turns her head to study Martha. She decides that what this girl needs is the same thing Leah needed on Day 12 when she was sitting alone on the beach: some kind of dirty joke. Since she’s fresh out of filthy material of the Christmas variety, Nora tells Martha, “One second,” and heaves herself up again. She comes back dragging Marcus. He’ll be her muse, but it’s also a reunion of lovers.

“You two could get married,” Nora tells Martha. “Shelby said she was an ordained youth minister, remember?”

They laugh and it’s softer than the crackle of the fire. Nora likes that. The steady, rolling sound of their laughs together. How they taper off, unlike the ceaseless noise of breaking waves that drives Nora insane whenever she surfaces from her numbness to the sound. Like becoming conscious of your breathing and working like hell to stop noticing it, because having to purposefully regulate every breath is exhausting and terrifying.

Martha frowns a little in consideration, then half-smiles.

“Nah. I don’t know if I’m ready to commit like that. I think this could just be a fling. All those abs and he didn’t come help me haul that goat.”

“That’s true.” When Martha gazes at the mannequin, Nora assesses Marcus as well. “And it’s not like you’d want to keep him around because he gives great head.”

“He might’ve once,” Martha defends, brushing hair out of her face when a breeze kicks up, “but he gave so much head that there’s none left for me.”

They catch each other staring at the clean line where Marcus’s neck ends and nothing rests above it and trip into laughter again. Though Nora feels like she accomplished her dirty joke, Martha made it even better. People have underestimated her. Nora’s noted it from the start. It’s probably because Martha was injured. Group dynamics were established quickly and have formed and reformed in the days and weeks since, but Day 1 showed them the rawest version of who they are together and, before they knew about Jeanette, Martha was the weak one. Have the others seen her role evolve like Nora has? Are Nora’s observations anything special, really?

“This is totally not a judgement thing or anything,” Nora says, meaning it. “I was just wondering if you were maybe going to wash your clothes. Or change them.”

“Oh.”

Martha looks down at herself and now Nora’s glad she said something; it doesn’t seem like Martha was really aware that she’s been sitting here crusted in drying blood. Nora weighs the acceptability of a period joke and decides against it.

“You don’t have to,” she assures Martha, raising a gentle hand. “It just seemed like maybe the, uh, the slaughtering process? Was kind of a mindfuck?”

“Yeah.” Martha stares straight ahead and lets out a short laugh that Nora doesn’t join her in. “I’m glad Marcus wasn’t there to see. He might not’ve come back the same.”

Nora peers at her a moment, then resolves to just say what she’s thinking.

“Did you?”

Turning her head, Martha looks at Nora and her smile’s the same, but her eyes are different. No, Nora would write in the journal. The answer is plain. Maybe she’ll record it on paper later and maybe she won’t. Looking into Martha’s eyes, Nora knows she won’t need help remembering this.

“I’m just living my best life,” Martha tells her, batting the ends of her hair with her hand.

It sounds like something Fatin would say in this moment, or at least have printed on a t-shirt or something—it’s flip and glib—and for the very reason that it reminds Nora of Fatin, she’s certain that Martha not only means the silly words sincerely but that she feels the kind of truth in the trope, the mindfulness in the meme, that Fatin fights so hard to experience herself. Fatin is deeper than that ocean over there and Martha is a girl scooping out the sand in front of her mannequin boyfriend, digging him a sturdy trench to rest in so she can lean back against his factory-sculpted physique, painted in the blood of her first kill.

For whatever reason, Marcus is the man Martha wants. Nora can’t imagine him becoming anyone else’s property after all this is over.

“Do you want a lychee instead?” she offers. Martha’s flat-out ignoring her leaf-plate of meat now.

“Maybe in a minute.”

She turns her dreamy eyes away from where she’s rubbing a streak of dirt off Marcus’s bicep. Nora follows her gaze to Shelby, who seems to be counting out and partitioning the lychee haul, looking to Dot from time to time. Dot isn’t interfering, just giving encouraging nods when Shelby seeks them out. And of course Toni’s watching too.

“You think they’re telling the truth?” Nora inquires bluntly. “That whole ‘wrong turn in the woods’ story?”

Martha shrugs and says, “Yeah,” but Fatin scootches towards them, evidently drawn by the hum of gossip in the air.

“Are you talking about Toni and Shelby?” she asks, but it’s more of a demand. Her eyes are bright and excited, her mouth grinning, and Nora knows that a lot of that effect is thanks to their first meal in days, but it astounds her how socializing lights Fatin up as much as it used to shut Nora down.

“No,” Martha says quickly, but no faster than Nora’s flat, “Yes.”

“Dope. Yeah, those two are a hundred percent lying.”

“Are you sure?” Nora asks.

She’s not, but the cameras will be. Seeing the footage afterwards isn’t something she negotiated on when Gretchen made her part of the team. Speculation, though less scientific, is much more fun.

Fatin rolls her eyes like Nora’s questioning the laws of gravity. (She blinks and sees the poster of Newton. Sees Newton seeing the apple. Her throat closes up until she softly coughs it clear.)

“Definitely,” Fatin says. “Even if they were just out there all day picking fruit, it’s still the most sapphic thing I’ve ever heard. It’s, like, biblically sapphic.”

Martha laughs.

“Uhhh, sorry, which version of the Bible did you read?”

Nora smiles broadly and looks from Martha’s expression of brimming joy to Fatin’s concentrated delight. Like she’s on to something and whether or not she’s right is beside the point. That kind of approach makes Nora pleasantly dizzy. She remembers being little, standing at a department store perfume counter she couldn’t see over while her mom spritzed scents on her wrists that floated down to Nora’s nose. Fruit and flowers and anything and everything that could make the air beautiful when a woman walked into a room.

“None, but come on, there’s the garden, right? I know some shit. The marketing for this retreat was super Christian-centric anyway. We’re out here representing the fucking Dawn of Eve!” Fatin gestures triumphantly around at their dismal (except for the goat) camp. “If those two bitches weren’t getting their freak on under a fruit tree last night, I’ll eat my gold watch.”

Nora scrutinizes the girls in question.

“Shelby does look especially glowy today.”

“Maybe she’s born with it, maybe it’s chronic sun damage,” Martha singsongs.

“Maybe it’s what Toni did to those mussels with her tongue,” Fatin acknowledges frankly, “because Shelby sure as hell didn’t borrow my hundred-dollar highlighter. That shit got swept out to sea.”

Fatin trains her eyes on Shelby while Martha watches Toni, and Nora watches both of them watch the others. When they switch subjects in a moment of unvoiced agreement, Toni jerks her head up and spots Fatin staring at her. The tender gazes she’s been throwing Shelby’s way over the low mound of red fruit tighten into suspicion.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Toni barks, and a laugh sputters from Fatin as she raises her hands to show she means no harm.

“Ok,” Martha says to Fatin and Nora, giggling. “I see it now. Something happened between Shelby and Toni yesterday. Some kind of hunter-gatherer romance.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve taken the ‘hunter’ title away from Shelby,” Nora points out.

“Well, whatever. Gatherer-gatherer then.”

“With an island colony of all women, it was only a matter of time,” is Fatin’s pragmatic take. “Another couple weeks without an orgasm and I would’ve fucked Toni myself.”

“It wasn’t just time,” Martha scoffs, tipping her head to the side. “It’s love.”

“It’s both,” Nora says. She could prove it to them, flourish the statistics she’s been tracking in her journal. How those bald numbers lie there next to the drawings that spill to the edge of the page. She’s made bedfellows of data and emotions. She just sits there and grins at them. “It’s the aphrodisiacal influence of the Fourth of July.”

#my writing #The Wilds #Nora Reid #Martha Blackburn #Fatin Jadmani #Toni x Shelby #The Wilds fanfiction #The Wilds spoilers

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frank-hauptman · 3 years

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Frank, Rose, and Josephine spend their final day together in Winthrop, MA. Eight years later, Frank and Josephine retire quietly to the Leander where they don't have to worry about things like betrayal.

An adios to Frank. Inspired by the various tasks we’ve had throughout the group. Inspired, also, by this song (x).

WHEN: June 2021 & July 4th, 2013 WHERE: Meridium & Winthrop, MA, USA

He remembers the day and every single one before it with clarity, but he’s not worried about the big details, he can’t imagine he’ll ever forget them. What slips away, year after year, are the smaller things. The way Josephine’s knit cap rubbed against his cheek as she slept in his arms, tired out from the kisses and cuddles she’d gotten from Rose’s parents. His arms still feel the weight of her, but the knit cap…

Sometimes he can’t remember if it’s purple like the first crack of fireworks on the starry sky above, or if it’s a dark red to celebrate the holidays, a playful nudge to Rose’s name.

Did Rose laugh about it, or scoff? Did they match Josephine’s cap to her coat, or did they do something to celebrate the holiday? Did they buy in the store, or is it a gift from his mother?

The memory feels further and further away with time.

…

Josephine sleeps quietly, her tiny head tucked into his neck. His cheek itches from her knit cap against his cheek, but he loathes adjusting her. Waking her from a nap promises a long day for them, and they have several hours to go still until the fireworks start. “It’s not too late for us to call it a day,” he tells Rose as they walk along the pier in Winthrop, scanning the boats for a familiar face or sight. His brothers are here somewhere.

“Is that what you want?” She pauses the stroller, foot against the break, tucking unruly strands of curly hair behind her ear. Her dark eyes flicker to his face, the knowing smile on her lips bringing a familiar crinkle to the corner of her eyes.

“No.”

“Then we’re here. What on earth is Xavier wearing?” Rose asks, bemused, waving at the tall, lanky man at the end of the pier. Xavier swivels around at the sight of them. For a second, Frank can’t see what she means. Xavier looks same as ever with his untidy dark hair, too bright clothes, and a smile much too enthusiastic for such serious eyes.

That is until he sees the vest. If Christmas is the time for ugly sweaters, Independence Day is for a time of ugly vests in Xavier’s mind. This flashes red, blue, and white at random intervals. “I just bet your father loved his vest,” Rose murmurs, and he laughs. His father has never much cared for American holidays; it’s probably the only thing he and Frank agree on. His father tends to be livelier whenever they are in England.

In his enthusiasm, Xavier nearly slips off the dock in his haste to gesture them over. He catches himself on the pole, and then abandons his attempts at waving to sprint down to them.

Rose sighs. He can’t blame her. His brother is twenty-four, loud, and more accident prone than anyone Frank knows. Every day Xavier avoids a catastrophe is a lucky one.

“Frank! Rose! Jo—Oh, she’s asleep.” Xavier skids to a stop, disappointed. “How come I don’t get to see her when she’s awake? I’m good with kids, too!”

Frank muffles a laugh, trying not to wake Josephine. Not that she’ll sleep long with Xavier here; his brother is only quiet when writing, and even then, prone to rambling as he works. “Didn’t you babysit Oswald’s son?” he asks, rubbing a hand up and down Jo’s back to keep her asleep, sending Rose an amused look. Her nose wrinkles, but her lips snapped closed without a retort. For now.

“I lost him once. In my defense, it wasn’t my fault.”

“He was two,” Rose interjects, skeptical.

“Yeah, the terrible twos. I nearly chased him around the city. Oswald thought it was funny, though, when it turned out he was asleep in the pantry. And, hey, I was like fourteen!”

Frank laughs. “You’re not setting a good track record.”

“Again: fourteen. I’m a fantastic uncle now, you can just ask Eli. I’m definitely his favorite uncle since Professor Hauptman is too busy to visit us,” he says with a snort. “I still can’t believe you two are sticking around. I thought you’d leave Boston behind a long time ago.”

He and Rose exchange a confused look, silently communicating. A time or two, they considered what it would be like to leave, across the pond or across the country, but each time they talked themselves out of it with little argument or persuasion. Boston was their home. He can’t imagine walking down the road and not knowing there was some memory attached to it.

Rose ventures the question. “Why would we? My work is here. Frank’s work is here.”

Xavier shrugs. “I know dad isn’t the easiest person to have around. He still asks when you’re going to come home, you know,” he admits, hands in his pockets.

Frank says nothing for a beat, eyes focused on the ground, lips pressing into a thin line. His family wonders often when he’ll change his mind and come home. They think his love for Rose and Josephine is a switch, turned on and off at will. It isn’t. It’s like breathing. He doesn’t feel it, nor does he think about how it works, he’s just thankful it happens.

“I know you aren’t, though. Only a fool misses the way you two look at each other. They’ll get the message sometime,” Xavier says, moving to slap him on the back. Rose clears her throat and Frank glances at baby Josephine in explanation. His brother nods, a lopsided grin on his face. “Don’t worry about it. They’ll get the memo. I mean, the only thing they read is those.”

He’s not so sure. His father is stubborn, and the closer he gets to this new family he’s building, the more his old one tries to tug him away. They won’t succeed, he knows. Them accepting defeat, though? It’s less likely.

…

When he thinks about his family, he’s never thought of his brother as a threat. Xavier and Oswald look alike with their big blue eyes and long, lanky frames. Of the three Hauptman brothers, Frank alone got their father’s broad shoulders and square features. His brothers were taller, and their faces sharper than his own, a touch of red to their dark hair. He thinks of them, and he thinks of the dimpled smiles and dirt smeared faces from his youth.

He doesn’t think of them as anything other than younger brothers. Family. As much the results of their families’ callous upbringing as Frank himself. But like all the other memories he has on the island, Frank wonders if these memories are slipping away. He wonders if the island is taking the bad ones as much as the good.

What does he really remember of it? It’s windy, his hair whipping around his face, and Oswald stands on the deck. Is he smiling? Or is he frowning as he usually is? The more Frank tries to remember it, the less he can grasp it.

…

Oswald is smiling at him in the same perplexing way he always does. Like he’s listening to a joke no one else can hear. Water splashes against the hull of their boat. They bob on swiftly moving waves, and lesser men would find it nauseating. He ignores it, well used to the feeling, still watching his brother. Still waiting for the question on his face. “What’s on your mind?” Frank asks.

“Father’s been waiting a long time for you to pick up the mantle.”

“I’ve never been one for business. He’s better off picking you, you have a hunger for it.”

“I know.”

They fall silent.

Oswald stops the boat, but says nothing, battling something. Frank sighs, back leaning against the railing. “You can tell me, Oswald. I’m not going to be mad at whatever you think.”

His face twists, smile drooping at the corners. “I know I’m the better choice. I want the Hauptman’s to go farther. I don’t want to be old money, losing more and more each year. I don’t want to fall into obscurity. But I know with you at the head of the family, we will. You don’t want the money or the reputation, do you?”

Frank thinks the answer is obvious. The last time he looked at their name and saw it with awe, he was a boy. A boy who might have grown into Oswald with his baffling smile and hard eyes, or like their father, a man who regarded his children with little more than scorn, who looked at his granddaughter with disgust. “No, I don’t. I’d be happy where I am. Rose and I, we’re happy as we are, I don’t want money to change that. I don’t want Josephine to grow up as we did.”

“Given anything we wanted?”

“Loved when it was convenient,” Frank corrects.

“Father won’t let you go. He thinks you’ll connect the dots. I don’t know why he won’t let you go. Does he think you can do better than me? Does he think I won’t have the family’s best interest at heart?” Oswald asks, beginning to pace. “Frank, there’s no future for me if you don’t leave.”

Frank taps his fingers. “Leave where? My home is here.”

“As long as you’re here, he’ll always think you’re going to turn into his heir again.”

“You’re talking like being heir matters. This isn’t the olden days anymore. I’m sorry, but I’ve already told him I’m not coming back. He’ll accept that someday.”

Oswald’s eyes are steely. His smile fades. “I can’t wait that long. I’m already in the hole, Frank. Couple more weeks, I’ll be running home begging for scraps.” Frank leans against the railing, running a hand over his face at the words. His brother continues, smile still gone, a look of contemplation on his face. “I need him to let me in, I need him to pick me. I can’t live like this.”

“Bloody hell, Oswald. What do you mean it’s gone? What have you been doing? No, wait.” Frank holds up a hand, forestalling the explanation he can see brewing. “I don’t want to know. It was foolish. Money like this can change people’s lives, Oswald, and you’re squandering it.”

“Better than you. You pretend it doesn’t exist!”

“I know it exists; it doesn’t need to be flaunted. I put aside for Josephine and for security. The rest is spread to others however I can give it.” Scholarships for students who need it, meals for neighbors who can’t feed themselves, rent for friends who struggle in ways he doesn’t – Frank tries to help where he can. Tries to live up to the revelation he had as a boy who nearly drowned and saw the fragility and importance of life.

Is it selfish to not do more with it? To not pick up the reins when his father leaves and change lives for the better? Frank runs a hand over his face. Oswald is silent, staring at Frank with keen eyes. “Why did you have to bring this up now? I haven’t seen you in so long, Oswald, and you want to fight.” He’s making Frank doubt. Not his choices, but on whether he’s living up to be a good example to Josephine at all.

He doesn’t want the Hauptman name to be left in the hands of his father or his brother. Frank turns his back to him, looking out over the water. Far in the distance, too small to see, he knows Rose and Josephine wait.

“I know father won’t ever pick me as long as you’re here,” Oswald concludes.

Frank blinks. It’s not what he thought his brother would say. “What does—” Something strikes the side of his head. His vision blurs, his head spinning. Their sail is broken, he thinks, holding a hand to his face. “Are you okay?”

Another strike. Frank collapses against the railing, blood trickling down

It’s not the sail.

He doesn’t realize how similar they are. Same height, same build, same dark hair. But as Oswald heaves him over the edge, the difference is stark. “Oswald!” he shouts, pushing to the surface, choking against the water flooding his lungs. He treads water, but only just. A spray of water announces his brother’s departure, and the wind carries the words back to him: “Goodbye, Frank.”

He shouts again. A plead, even, born of desperation as the boat sinks farther and farther into the horizon. For a moment, he stays afloat and kicks, fighting for a way back to shore. Relentless waves batter him, pushing him to and from, and a powerful one surges over his head, sending him down, down, down. He can’t find up. His vision wavers. His head pounds.

Rose! he thinks, finding the surface. Josephine!

He sinks.

…

“Daddy!” Past memories are snatched up in the wind on the beach. Josephine darts up to him, tiny fingers clutched around shells. They are large, pale things in her dark hands. Lackluster, even, if it wasn’t for the brilliant smile on her lips. “I found my seashells!”

“I’m proud, sweetheart. Do you have the bag for them?” he questions, looping rope over one of his shoulders. Their collapsed shelter – the future he and Rose attempted to build – is near depleted of their things now. He imagines this will be the last time he ventures this far from the Leander.

She nods very importantly and carefully deposits them into a ragged sack. Bits of colored thread are weaved onto the outside in the shape of a shell with a crown, a gift from one of the elder survivors on the Leander. Frank smiles when he sees it. Josephine closes it tight and then resumes prodding at the collection of items near their shelter. She prods one pile thoughtfully. “Why are we leaving these?”

Frank hesitates. His eyes linger on the maps. It’s eight years of work held down by a mere rock. “I don’t need them anymore.” Josephine makes a noise. It’s so Rose-like that his head snaps up, half hoping he’ll see her walking from the jungle. “If someone might use them, we should take them along still. Do you want to hold them?” He doesn’t want to see them right now. If Rose isn’t among the people in the lagoon, then she’s out there still. Somewhere. Leaving the island wasn’t possible now with hope lingering in the air.

Tempting as it was to search for her, he knows his responsibility. Josephine can’t lose both of her parents.

Josephine, delighted at her responsibility, scoops the maps up and deposits them into the bag with her shells. “Okay!”

“Do you have everything?” Frank says, gathering the last of their things. “We’re going to be on the Leander for a while, sweetheart.” He needs to distant them from certain people; he needs the time to prepare answers to her inevitable questions, too.

Her head bobs, hair flying. “Let’s go!” she announces. He follows her and as she runs across the sand, laughing and singing about the life of a pirate, he captures the moment in his mind’s eye. So much of their time together has been stolen. With all the things Frank has missed over the years, he doesn’t want to miss another second.

#headcanon #misc #Rose #Josephine

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katyobsesses · 3 years

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I love how you basically picked both for each pair on that music tag :’) I’m curious and wanna know what your top 5 or 10 favorite artists are (if you can narrow it down)?💕

ahaha I loved all of them so i really couldn't choose!

My music taste is very very vast and I listen to absolutely everything, a lot of the time I vibe with one song but never listen to anything else by an artist, or i'll listen to an artists entire discography on repeat for a year and then forget about them until they pop back up in some Spotify made playlist!

but i'll do ten artists I love in no particular order;

Taylor Swift (mostly her earliest and newest stuff, I don't vibe with Red or Reputation as much as the rest (though LOVE delicate and Gorgeous)) My fave song rn is probably... Betty, Mr Perfectly Fine (Taylor's Version) (From The Vault), or You Are In Love

A Great Big World (became re-obsessed with them this year/year and a half/idk, I think I originally actually found them because of glee? I seem to remember having Rockstar on repeat for a bit after Kurt and Elliot sang it in S5, but now I listen to their entire discography on repeat a LOT. fun fact: i tried to make a jukebox musical from their entire discography in January, and it sparked a fanfiction idea for a very far of fic in my OC re-write series lol) Fave song: Won't Stop Running

Imagine Dragons (I've seen them in concert twice, I especially love their earliest stuff from when I first found them (an old friend (also a Cait!) introduced me to them, she was into the indie alternative scene and loved trawling youtube for up and coming bands), they are the only band I've seen in concert except for when I went to Glee Live in 2011 (it was actually the 10th aniversary of that a couple of days ago I think??? Or manybe last month, I can't remember if it was June or July rn)) Fave Song: It's Time (i freaked when Darren did it on glee lol) or I Need A Minute (which is from their EP and annoyingly not on Spotify)

Sleeping at Last (I found them from their Cover albums which are amazing, but also their Enneagram Album is SOOO good! their songs are all so peaceful and soft and emotional I love it) My fave song is Six, or maybe their cover of Rainbow Connection

Twin Atlantic (another one introduce to me by Cait, they're a scottish band and I can barely understand the lyrics half the time because their accents are rather strong but something about their music is so so good, I'm shit at describing it though, it's definately some sort of rock though! I like Free and Great Divide the most becuase they're the ones i heard first and they bring me so much nostalgia) Fave Song: Crash Land (It makes me think of Captain America and I can only kinda see the reason still lol)

Christina Perri (I think Lovestrong was one of the first CDs I actually bought for myself with my own money (babysitting job if I remember correctly) and I still LOVE it to this day, the nostalgia!) Fave Song: penguin

Olivia Rodrigo (her music is just... so good, so so good) Fave Song: happier

The Beatles (I don't think I have to say much about this one, they're the freaking Beatles who doesn't like them lol) Fave Song: In My Life, Yesturday, Or Here Comes The Sun

dodie (she's been in my Top Song Of X playlists on spotify for years now, I love her and have since I found her on youtube years and years ago) Fave Song: Sick of Losing Soulmates

Glee Cast <3 (including all of the cast's original stuff. I LOVE Kevin's stuff especially, and Chord's, and Amber's, and Darren's, and Noah Guthrie's...) Fave Song: As If We Never Said Goodbye

and there is so many more, I just... i listen to everything??? this isn't including Ed Sheeran or Echosmith or Corrine Bailey Rae or Fleetwood Mac or Rachel Stevens or... countless other random artists i've heard one or two songs from that i love, or artists i could recite every single one of their songs if i heard them on the radio, or bands and artists from my childhood I still jam out to on occasion, or musicals! I just really love music! I have music going basically 24/7 if i'm not watching something.

and thanks, this was really really fun 💛💛💛

#music #katy liveblogs life #kurtanaroyalty #me #taylor swift #a great big world #imagine dragons #sleeping at last #twin atlantic #christina perri #olivia rodrigo #the beatles #dodie #glee #ed sheeran #echosmith #corrine bailey rae #fleetwood mac #rachel stevens

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likesomekindofcheese · 4 years

Text

Expectation (The Great oneshot)

Pairing: Grigor Dymov x fem! reader

Word count: 1699 words

Warnings: mentions of sex and pregnancy, swearing, an arranged marriage, mentions of food.

From @foxinaforestofstars request: So... I have a Grigor request, if you don't mind. Grigor and reader are married. It was an arranged marriage, but they really do love each other. One day reader realizes that she hasn't had her period in two months and after confirming it (as much as possible in that time) she tells Grigor and they're both overjoyed. Thanks in advance!

A/N: You’re welcome! I hope you like it! I love writing for The Great!

“Y/N, come back to bed, darling,” you husband mewled out to you.

You had sat up and placed your feet on the floor. Turning to look at him behind you, he was laying himself on his side smiling up at you. He was a beautiful man and sometimes looked like a Greek God in the morning sunlight, you admitted to yourself. It made you forget the sour churning in your stomach you have had for a few days. The churning that concerned you.

Feeling the bed shift with his weight. You smiled under the feeling of him moving aside the collar of your nightdress to kiss your shoulder.

“It’s already daytime…” you answered, “the birds have been chirping forever,” you said.

“Let them chirp all they want. They aren’t in here with a pretty lady in their beds.”

Obliging, you gently leaned back and let him cuddle you for just a bit more. Crawling partly on top of him, you let your head rest against his heart. It was beating slowly. His skin felt hot against your cheek and the nightgown you were wearing contrasted with his skin.

“I was remembering…the day you arrived here. When we married…” Grigor recalled, his eyes looking up at the red bed post.

Part of you let out a little laugh of embarrassment.

“Oh god…” you blurted. “Which one? When I tripped when I got out the first carriage?”

“No, no…I remember how…how scared you seemed…” he recalled, his voice low, scratchy, and sleepy.

“I was scared. Remember-I forgot my own wedding vows, Grigor! Archie had to prompt them to me twice!”

“But…I was just as scared too.” he continued.

“I…I just didn’t know who you were. How wonderful you were,” he complimented.

Your cheeks grew red. Your head shot up and he looked down to see you.

You did recall that wedding. Your legs were shaking beneath your gown as you walked down to the dark chapel.

When the wedding night arrived you nearly cried as you were changed out of your gown into your nightdress and heard his knock. As everyone else excused themselves to give the betrothed couple privacy, you thought your heart would knock itself out of your ribs. Could you just lie down, lift your skirt, open your legs, and pray for it to be over soon?

To your shock, Grigor asked for nothing of you. You wound up drinking a little vodka and talking. He offered to sleep on the chair or in the other room until you were comfortable with him. He spent his wedding night curled up on a chair in front of the fire.

This soon became longer hours of talking and learning more about each other. He had become your friend in a way. Then he only held your hand and began kissing you when you let him. As you talked with your new husband more and more, you began to know him, dance with him, and let him kiss you more often, then to sleep beside you in his bed, and then to make love to you to consummate the marriage.

And you found you enjoyed it. A lot. And a chance hardly passed for both of you to jump into each other’s arms and be at it like rabbits.

The birds were quieter. You pulled yourself up to look at his face.

“I…I don’t regret marrying you…” you confessed. “In fact, I think I…I….”There was another word right on your lips, but you could hardly think. A pressing matter was to your mind. Several pressing matters. You wanted to say it. And you wanted him to say it too so badly. Someone had to say it. It was right on the tip of your tongue when a serf burst in bringing breakfast on a tray.

“I don’t regret it at all…” Grigor said, pressing a kiss to your forehead appropriate enough as they opened some curtains for sunlight placed silverware on the tray.

Crawling out of bed together, your nose crinkled at the smell of toasted bread, but the smell of the eggs was almost overwhelming. You went to the desk to check your journal to check for today’s date. Some of the ladies were amazed and poked fun at you for being literate. You didn’t care too much. You liked to sometimes track and write things in quieter moments.

August the twenty-second was today’s date.

Glancing back, Grigor was occupied more with rolling up his stockings before having poached eggs, bread, and chopped melons for breakfast.

“Would you like anything?” he asked.

“I’ll be there in a moment,” you answered, confident he was far enough from you to peek. You pulled back a few pages to see your own notes.

June 15th: began bleeding today…

The smell of the new pages began to drift in your nose, replacing the strong egg smell as you checked each day of the next month where you wrote. There was no day to mark when you bled in July.

It had been two months.

You were supposed to bleed around August the 15th. And there was nothing.

Sitting down, you ate a bit of bread and a few bites of melon. You had to hurry. A matter like this couldn’t wait.

“I…I have to meet Lady Svenska for tea, I will see you later, my dear,” you excused.

The words slipped out so causally, if not fast. Grigor blinked and then smiled.

“Oh. Goodbye Y/N.”

He took your hand and kissed it in farewell before you dressed and scurried out. Walking down the wooden halls, you kept your eyes fixed to the end of it until a butterfly at the end of it got your attention.

There was a tall, auburn colored wig and a few more butterflies accompanying the first one.

“Oh, Madame Dymov!” she greeted.

“Oh-er-Elizabeth! What are you doing?” you asked.

“On my way to see the Empress!” she chirruped dreamily with a proud smile.

You noticed a bundle of wheat in her arms.

“With wheat? Are you going to make bread?” you teased lightly.

“Oh no- it’s annual! She must urinate on the wheat and if it blooms she’s expecting an heir!” she explained.

Your stomach dropped at the words. You were going to be sick, you really felt it. You eyed the bundles, tempting as they looked. Maybe you could ask for one. But…you couldn’t. Especially out in public where anyone could see, and a rumor could spread easily. Who knew how Grigor would react? And, you had to visit someone who could without fail tell you yes or no.

“Why, what is it, Y/N? You look flushed!” she wondered.

“Nothing, I uh- I was only thinking that-uh- the wheat it reminded…r-r-reminded me of my duty towards my husband. You know.” You improvised, folding your hands in front of you meekly.

“Well, if you have any problem performing, just lie back and think of Russia. Find some erotica. It’s the best for stimulation. I have plenty of art in my chambers that may inspire you to try doing a position like a table while he…”

“Have to be somewhere, have to hurry! Goodbye Lady Elizabeth!” you interrupt, walking away to the green corridor.

Heart beating harder than ever, you reached the door to the physician’s office and knocked.

The words were still ringing in your ears along with the mixing of your stomach as you walked out. Everything went dizzy as you stood there, still processing the words from the court physician.

“Congratulations, Madame Dymov!”

First things first. There was one person who needed to know. Soon.

Hurrying back to the apartment, you rang for a servant. You asked where your husband was and as soon as he was free to come back.

Minutes ticked by slow as honey. You paced before the fire, turning by the large golden bathtub, and staring outside at the gardens. You looked down at your stomach in your dress. It seemed perfectly normal. No sign of anything. But that meant that everything was normal. Half an hour stretched by agony came and went.

Finally, the door opened and Grigor walked through. His eyes were bright from movement. He wore a looser white shirt-probably playing tennis against the wall with the emperor again.

“Hello there, Y/N…you’ve summoned me? Is something wrong?” he asked worriedly.

You paused, frozen. The words half in your mouth. Staying there, almost choking to get out.

“Grigor I…I…”

Your throat knotted up. He walked closer.

“You’re…you’re not sick with the pox or anything, are you? I don’t see any marks…”

“Grigor I’m pregnant,” you announced flatly.

He turned white and then pink.

“Y/N…is this…is this a prank?” he questioned, head shaking but his voice getting higher in pitch.

“I’ve not bled for two months. It’s no prank, I just got back from the court doctor. You can talk to him,” you confirmed, bobbing your head.

His jaw dropped low and he took your hands.

“We’re going to be parents…” you told him in disbelief.

“Y/N…”

He took your face in his hands. And then he began to kiss you passionately and you kissed back, your hands wandering to his back. Looking up, you saw a few tears in his eyes and his smile had a slight crinkle to his face. Once he let go, you began smiling back.

“I could pick you up…would that be…” he wondered.

“As long as you’re gentle. It won’t hurt the little one, yes.”

He picked you up and turned you around in an embrace. Tears began to well up and fall once you landed and you started to sniffle, holding onto each other. He placed a careful hand on your stomach. It was quiet for a moment.

He looked up, grinning ear to ear.

“Y/N…I’ve known this for a bit but…as mad as it is, even though we’ve been married for a long time, but I… I…I think I love you…”

There it was. The words you wanted so badly this morning. The words you wanted for a while. The words that would make having this child easier. You kissed him again.

“I…I think love you too.”

Taglist: @foxinaforestofstars @queenlover05 @sgt-stardustkillerqueen @itsametaphorgwil @grigorlee @vintage-and-hypnotic @joeneslee @rhapsodyrecs @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @bens-jawline @themarchoftherainbowqueen @isitstraightvodka @silverrose02

@deck-heart @iwritefanficnotprophecies @simonedk @panagiasikelia @fueled-by-novocaine @xviiarez @raerae27 @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night

#carrie writes #the great #the great fanfic #the great fanfiction #the great oneshot #girgor dymov #grigor dymov x you #grigor dymov x y/n #grigor dymov x reader #grigor dymov x fem! reader #grigor dymov x fem! y/n #tw: pregnancy

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adenei · 4 years

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Finding My Way To You - Ch. 13

AO3 || FFN

The Road Home

The next day found Ron and Hermione on an adventure with the Grangers. Ron wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting of the day, but it certainly wasn’t anything he could have imagined. They’d packed a lunch, and taken a drive along the Great Ocean Road, making a pit stop in the Great Otway National Park for their picnic, enjoying the scenic nature that southern Australia had to offer. He was incredibly surprised that Hermione had suggested trying the Otway Fly Treetop Walk, given her fear of heights. She gripped his hand tightly for the majority of it as her parents congratulated Ron for helping her overcome one of her fears.

Ron and Hermione had agreed not to bring up anything about the Grangers’ future plans until the end of the day so as not to ruin the mood if things went awry. It was a good thing, too, as it was quite the drive when all was said and done. As they were driving back to Melbourne, Ron was thinking a lot about his future.

That morning he’d taken care to fill out his paperwork that Kingsley had sent, committing his availability for anytime after 20 June. Hermione had agreed on the date, and checked over his paperwork before sealing it up to send out before meeting her parents. They’d also touched base with Graham, letting him know they’d have a firm date for portkey travel within a day or two. Ron was relieved when Graham told them they were more than welcome to stay in the flat until they left. He knew the Grangers would have no doubt welcomed them into their home, but he found he quite liked the time alone he shared with Hermione.

As they were arriving back to the city, Ron felt Hermione’s hand rest on top of his as she gave it a squeeze. He could tell she looked nervous. In all honesty, he was too. They’d only been in Australia for a week, and she was already wanting to discuss returning home. Who knew how her parents would react? He hoped things would go smoothly. Ron was pulled out of his thoughts as Mr. Granger slowed down before turning into a public parking lot.

“Right on time,” Mr. Granger said as he parked the car.

“Our dinner reservations are at this lovely restaurant just down the street. I think you’ll both really enjoy it,” Mrs. Granger added.

A short while later they were settled at their table. Hermione waited to say anything until after their orders were placed. Ron heard her clear her throat and knew that she was about to broach the subject. “So, Ron found out some big news yesterday,” she said nervously.

“Oh? What’s that?” Mr. Granger asked as Mrs. Granger looked on, giving him her full attention.

Ron gave Hermione a look out of the corner of his eye. This was definitely how he thought this was going to happen, and honestly, he was a bit annoyed that she’d pinned this on him. “Er, I received a letter from Kingsley Shacklebolt. He was in the Order with us, and is now the acting Minister of Magic.” He looked up to see them nodding in understanding. “Anyways, I’ve been invited to join the Auror training program.”

“Wow, that’s wonderful, Ron! Congratulations!” Mrs. Granger said as Mr. Granger nodded. They both seemed sincere.

“Ron’s been hoping for this since fifth year. It really is a great honor!” Hermione gushed. “They’re even shortening the training program to a year, and if he passes the academy he’ll be a junior Auror around this time next year!”

“It certainly does seem like an honorable career,” Mr. Granger said, “though I’m a bit surprised after everything you’ve been through that you’d want to go back into the field.”

Ron didn’t blame him for his hesitation. Hell, he and Hermione had even sort of discussed that last night, which resulted in him promising to be careful and that he’d always come home to her. “Well, yeah, but the work’s not over yet. There are stil de- er, bad guys out there, and I want to help catch them and bring them to justice. Even after they’re all accounted for, I still want to help make our world safer for everyone.”

He watched as Mr. Granger nodded at his words. It looked like he approved of Ron’s answer. “So when does all this start?” he asked.

“Well, I’ll, er, have to go back to England by the end of next week to be ready for a screening test with the Ministry. It needs to be done by the end of the month as training starts in July.” Ron explained.

“He had to follow through with this offer. It’s completely unheard of, but the force was significantly depleted because of the war, and they’re looking for trustworthy individuals. If Ron doesn’t seize this opportunity, then he’d have to apply and join with the following year of recruits and fulfill the three year training process,” Hermione explained.

Ron looked at Hermione. Now he knew exactly what she was doing. She was using his return as the scapegoat to bring up the conversation, and if things went sour, she could blame his need to return. He felt his ears grow hot at the realization. He knew better than to bring it up here, but that didn’t take away his displeasure.

“So you’re not going back to Hogwarts next year?” Mrs. Granger asked him.

“No. Even if I didn’t have this opportunity, I don’t think I could,” Ron admitted in a slightly hollow voice.

“What about you, Hermione. Will you go back, then?” Her mother asked, picking up on Ron’s reluctance to talk about it and not pushing him further. He was thankful for that.

“Yes. We talked about that last night. My education is important to me, and I’d like to finish my final year now that it will be safe to return. I’m sure it will be challenging, but we’ll find a way to make it work.” Hermione offered an encouraging smile in Ron’s direction.

“So, that means you’ll need to be returning home to England soon,” Mr. Granger observed.

“Yes,” Hermione answered quickly. He was thankful she finally seemed to be taking over, as he was worried he’d be put in the middle of a conversation that was truly meant for them. “And I- well, I’m intending on returning with Ron when he goes back next week.”

Hermione’s mother gave her a sad smile. “We wouldn’t expect any less of you, dear. We figured you’d want to go back together.”

“H-have you thought anymore about whether you’ll return to England?” Hermione chanced.

Ron watched as her parents shared a look with each other. “We have, actually,” her father said.

“As much as we love Australia, we do want to return to England. We’ll still need some time to get everything in order here, but we anticipate we’ll be able to move home in August,” Mrs. Granger added.

Ron watched as Hermione’s relief washed over her. She was instantly more relaxed, and he knew the toughest part of the conversation was over. At least that’s what he hoped.

“Hermione, I do need to ask,” her father said, “What exactly are we coming back to?”

Ron looked at Hermione, who seemed thrown off by her father’s question. Mr. Granger must have sensed the same as he elaborated a bit more. “What of our practice? Is the house still in our possession? Sweetheart, I know you were trying to protect us, but please tell me you made arrangements for our lives back home.”

Ron watched as Hermione took a sip of her water before answering. He remembered asking her the same questions last summer, and the only straight answer she’d given him was about the house. Seeing that she was freezing up, he attempted to jump in and rescue her.

“I think there are protective charms in place so it didn’t look completely vacant this year, so you’ll have your home to return to. Right, Hermione?” Ron looked at her and waited for her to nod before going on. “I’ll talk to my dad and brother about checking the house and completing a sweep to make sure it’s safe for you to return.”

“Why wouldn’t it be safe for us to return,” Mrs. Granger asked.

Ron was trying to avoid mentioning things like Death Eaters and magic in public, just in case there were nosy people around, but it looked like his efforts weren’t understood. “Er, we need to be careful. I wouldn’t be surprised if they went looking for Hermione, or even you both. They probably left traces behind that we need to check for.”

He looked across the table to see Mr. Granger nod with a look of understanding on his face as he leaned over and whispered something in his wife’s ear. “We’ll write to you straight away once things are safe to return. If anything’s damaged, I’ll make sure it gets fixed up as well,” Ron added.

“Well, that’s very nice of you, Ron,” Mrs. Granger said sweetly. She turned to her daughter. “Hermione, what happened to our practice, dear?”

Hermione hesitated for a moment, no doubt thinking about what to say, “I- you were to tell them you were going on sabbatical for one year to study the dental hygiene habits of various cultures around the world,” Hermione managed to say.

Her parents both thought over her answer. “That’s actually quite a brilliant idea you thought of,” her father told her.

“Yes, but now you’re going to return with no new knowledge!” Hermione sounded upset. “I- I really didn’t think it’d ever be safe for you to return, or that- that I’d be here right now.” She was trying to blink back the tears that were threatening to fall.

“Honey, it’s okay,” her mother said as she reached over to take her hand in reassurance. “We’ll find a way to sort this out. There’s no need to be worried or be upset.”

“Yes, if our practice is still running and we’ll have jobs to return, then you clearly did enough to ease our return,” Mr. Granger said.

“Y-yes. They permitted you to take the year, but that was in early July so you’ll need to call them and give them an update I’m sure-”

“Well, that won’t be a problem at all. We’ll call first thing on Monday. It’ll be nice to chat with Wendy and see what’s been happening. There’s no need to worry about anything, Hermione” Mrs. Granger said happily.

“But what will happen when you come back with no research?” Hermione asked nervously.

Ron watched her parents work through that problem. “That shouldn’t be too much of an issue, actually. We aren’t working for a family practice here like we have back in England. There were openings with an emergency dental facility here, and we took up residence there. You’d be surprised how many tourists come in with cracked teeth and other mouth injuries! We’ve seen many patients from all over the world,” Mr. Granger explained.

Mrs. Granger let out a chuckle and added, “It’s almost as if you imparted some of that knowledge on what to pursue in us. I actually began taking notes on what we were seeing a few weeks after being hired, and in our downtime I’ve been researching what could have influenced the injury. It’s been quite fascinating to study.”

Ron leaned over and whispered in Hermione’s ear, “See how brilliant you are? You even managed to guide them with what to do here.”

Hermione finally allowed herself to smile as their meals arrived. Ron listened as her parents began detailing all of the barmy situations they’d witnessed as they tucked into their dinner. Things seemed like they were going to work out easier than Ron had anticipated.

~o~

When Mr. Granger pulled up to their flat to drop them off, Ron was surprised when Hermione invited her parents inside for tea. They’d accepted, but promised they wouldn’t stay for more than a cup, as everyone was knackered from the day’s. As they let themselves into the apartment, Hermione put the water on as they sat at the table.

Thankfully, things were picked up so he wasn’t embarrassed by clothes or other belongings lying about, but there was still parchment scattered across the table. Ron took it upon himself to stack the parchment and get it out of the way, when Mrs. Granger stopped him.

“What’s all that paper for?” she asked.

“Just for writing letters. We only sent my application back today along with a letter I wrote thanking Kingsley, but I’ll need to write Harry and my Mum to let them know when we’ll be home. Sorry for the mess,” Ron muttered.

“Oh! Do you think I could borrow one sheet? I’d love to write to your parents and thank them for everything they’ve done for Hermione. They’ve truly been so kind over the last few years,” Mrs. Granger gushed.

“Er, sure,” Ron said as he handed her one of the sheets. “I can send it out tomorrow morning with the others.”

Mrs. Granger smiled sweetly at Ron as she pulled out a pen and began writing. After Hermione passed out the mugs with the tea, she sat down in the vacant seat. They settled into easy conversation as Mr. Granger discussed all the things he missed about England and how he was excited to get back.

“We should be able to partake in some of the later summer festivals,” he commented. “Hermione, you should take Ron to Chessington. He’d love it!”

“What’s Chessington?” Ron asked.

“It has nothing to do with chess, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s a theme park with rides and activities.”

“Rides?” Ron asked, clearly confused.

“Think of it like riding a broom, but instead you’re in a compartment of sorts and they run on electricity,” Hermione said with a laugh.

Ron wasn’t sure what to think about it, but he supposed he’d be interested in trying it.

“You’ll love it, I’m sure,” Mrs. Granger said as she folded her letter and addressed it to Mrs. Weasley. She handed the letter to Ron and looked at her daughter. “Will you be coming home to stay with us once we’re settled, dear? We wouldn’t want you to be an imposition at the Weasley’s once we’re home.”

“Oh, I- I don’t know. I guess that would make sense,” Hermione admitted. “Especially if you’re in training,” Hermione said with a shrug.

“Ron, you’ll be welcome to visit and stay any time as well. I think it’s about time we returned the favor after all those summers, don’t you think?” Mrs. Granger said.

“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks,” Ron said with a smile, even though his heart was sinking.

He should have seen this coming. Of course they were worried about Hermione’s parents wanting to come home, but they’d been so focused on that, that neither had thought about the repercussions of their living situation. Well, at least he had until August before he had to think about it.

“Well, I think we should get going,” Mrs. Granger said. “We’re scheduled for a shift, but we’ll be in touch after.”

“Thank you for everything today,” Ron said.

“Yes, it was lovely!” Hermione agreed as the bid goodbye to her parents.

Once Hermione shut the door, Ron returned to the table to begin writing to Harry as she cleaned up. “I’m going to tell Harry we’re requesting a portkey for Wednesday if that’s alright,” Ron said to Hermione.

“Sure, as long as Graham can arrange that. It’ll give us another few days with my parents, at least,” Hermione agreed.

Ron didn’t answer her as he went back to his letter. He really didn’t want to pick a row, but he was still annoyed over dinner. Ron realized that he’d been gripping the quill a bit too hard when he saw his knuckles were white. He was glad he didn’t press down too hard and cause himself to poke through the parchment. Signing his letter to Harry, he set the quill down and folded it before moving on to a quick letter to his parents.

He was vaguely aware that Hermione had moved into the bedroom as he finished his writing. Ron set the three letters in a stack on the table before pushing the chair in and checking the lock on the door. When he entered the bedroom, he walked over to grab a fresh set of clothes.

“I’m going to have a shower,” he told Hermione, who had already gotten into bed and was looking at him with hopeful eyes.

He tried to ignore the fall of her face as he walked into the bathroom. Maybe she doesn’t realize what she did earlier, Ron thought, giving her the benefit of the doubt as he turned on the water. The hot spray of water felt good on his skin as he let the water wash over him. His thoughts continued to wander back to dinner, and how Hermione brought up the Aurors first, trying to weigh both sides of what could have possessed her to start with his job offer.

The door opened, breaking him out of his thoughts. “Ron?” he heard Hermione call his name. “Did I do something wrong?” she asked. “You’ve been quiet since dinner. Should I not have invited my parents in for tea?”

Ron could imagine the frown that was on her face as he shut the water off. He reached around the curtain for his towel before answering. The curtain remained closed.

“No, it wasn’t tea,” he told her as he dried himself off.

“Then what is it?” she asked.

“Why did you bring up the Aurors with your parents?” he asked her as he wrapped the towel around himself and pulled the curtain back.

“I- I wanted to tell them. I thought we agreed to tell them. It’s such an honor, I thought you’d want to share the news and celebrate,” she said, a look of confusion on her face.

“Sure, but the way it sounded was that you were using it as a lead in for discussing our return to England and asking them about their plans,” Ron told her.

She furrowed her brow as she looked at him. “I didn’t-”

“Save it, Hermione. Luckily it went over alright and everything worked out, but if it hadn’t, I would have been the bad guy because I need to return to England for an appointment.”

Hermione was shaking her head. “I- I didn’t think about it that way, honest. I just thought it would be the easiest way to start the conversation.”

“So you did deliberately start it that way,” Ron said. Ron wanted to move around her, or at least get dressed, but she was blocking the door of the small bathroom.

“I-”

“Next time you’re planning that, maybe tell me first next time. I know you’re trying to rebuild your relationship with your parents, but as your boyfriend, I also have a relationship to maintain with them, too, and I don’t appreciate what you did.”

“I-I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking about that,” she apologized to him.

Ron took a deep breath, “Well, remember we’re a pair now, yeah?”

“I know. I guess I’m just not used to it yet…” she said quietly as she looked up at him through her lashes.

As if a switch was flipped, the animosity he’d been feeling all evening had suddenly vanished. There was no way he could stay mad at her, especially when she was standing there in one of his tees, and looking at him with those sad eyes. It was as if his mind and his body had suddenly remembered that it’d been all day since he’d held her and kissed her.

He was overcome with need as he reached out and pulled her close to him, his lips crashing into hers. Her hands were cold against his body, but he didn’t care, as his own reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it up over her head. They made their way clumsily to the bed, shedding her clothes and his towel, before picking up where they left off that morning.

A short time later, they were cuddling in bed, both thoroughly satisfied now that the misunderstanding had been cleared up. “How do you feel about me moving back in with my parents in August?” Hermione asked.

“Not great,” Ron answered honestly, “but I get it.”

“I feel like I’ll need to, but it’ll be rather odd after being away for so long,” she thought out loud.

“What if you split your time? And I could split mine? So we could at least see each other as much as possible,” Ron offered. He had no idea what his training schedule would look like, but he wanted to make it clear that she would still be a priority for him.

“That could work...but do you think they’d actually let us sleep in the same bed?” Hermione mentioned.

“Well, I think maybe Mum’ll come around when we’re back, and your parents are already aware that we’re sharing a bed here, so…”

“That’s true,” Hermione agreed. “And we are adults, technically..”

“Exactly. Who knows, maybe Harry is planning on fixing up Grimmauld Place after all, and if I move in with him, we wouldn’t have to worry about Mum.”

“Do you think he’s going to?”

“He’s mentioned it a couple times. I don’t think he wants to be an imposition to Mum anymore either, even though he’s not,” Ron told her.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind that plan if he does,” Hermione said as she leaned up to kiss him. “Things have a funny way of working themselves out, so maybe we shouldn’t worry so much about it.”

Ron laughed. Truer words had certainly never been spoken. Ron held her close as he let the exhaustion from the day wash over and lull him to sleep. He felt more confident and secure in their relationship with every passing day. Even though there were so many unknowns of what the future would hold, especially with the coming year, Ron knew that somehow they’d make it through. There was one thing he knew for sure: no matter what life would throw at him, he’d be able to overcome anything as long as he had her by his side.

#ROMIONE #hp australia #Ron and Hermione #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #ron x hermione

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aviss · 4 years

Text

a year-in-review meme - for writers!

I thought up this writing meme for fic writers who might have been staring at the artists having their lovely and well-deserved collages of their work through the year - and wanted to join in the fun! also this works as a great reminder for those of you (and me) who’ve been thinking that they haven’t been writing as much as they want to, and allows you to go back to enjoy your old fic ;D

Rules: pick your favourite sentence from a work you posted / wrote during a month of 2020! if you didn’t write anything in any particular month, don’t worry! tell us what you were doing or use it as free space for runner-up sentences. after that, tag 8 people or more to do the meme!

I was tagged by the lovely @ladyxxdaydream so here is mine:

January:

Matchmaker - Kakashi/Iruka - I just love soft, established relationship for these two. Especially when they have a mischievous side.

On the way back to the living room, Kakashi grabbed him by the waist and pulled until Iruka was wedged between his legs and the table. "Are we going to tell him?" he questioned with a mischievous smile. He moved his hands to cup Iruka's ass, food apparently forgotten, and pressed his face against Iruka's stomach.

"Eventually. We can tease him a bit first."

Iruka felt the vibrations of Kakashi's chuckle against his abs, the warmth of his breath and the fingers pressing just barely on the cleft of his ass incredibly arousing. "You're evil," Kakashi said, approving. "I knew there was a reason I loved you."

"I thought it was because of my ass."

February:

Westeros Most Haunted - Jaime/Brienne - What can I say, I love horror stories.

They walked as quick as the darkness permitted, running there was as bad an idea as staying still, and clutched each other's hands. "This is the last time I'm filming without a full crew," she said, and as soon as she spoke there a single note began to play, softly at first but gaining volume the same as the noise had before.

She liked it even less than she had the noise.

Jaime's hand squeezed hers hard enough to hurt but she didn't complain. "Oh fuck," was all he said when a second note and then a third followed, then he was moving faster and pulling Brienne with him. "Run, Brienne, run!"

She did, she knew what song was beginning to play and she knew the doors would close when it did.

They didn't want to be trapped on this side of the door.

March:

Ghost in the Machine - Jaime/Brienne - WestWorld AU, because they made it too easy for me to go there.

"There is a war coming," Maeve said. Jaime wasn't surprised. There was always a war, somehow. That thing in Westworld the man had been talking about, the fear in his voice when he had spoken about it that Jaime had ignored at the time. "And I can't fight it on my own."

"Why me?" There had been so many like him, so many other hosts. Jaime knew about war, but only in his little place, in this little fantasy world someone had written for them.

Maeve could have chosen anyone to fight with her.

"Because you are like me, you fought your programing to get back to her the same way I always tried to get back to my daughter. If they hadn't closed this park, you would have eventually got there on your own, I just got you there faster." She handed him the tablet.

April:

D-Rank mission scrolls - Kakashi/Iruka - Iruka in sexy lady clothing, enough said.

Iruka thought about his options; he could run back home and hide under the bed, pack his belongings and flee the village in the middle of the night. Naruto would miss him but he'd always thought he'd make a pretty good missing-nin, though they'd probably send Kakashi after him and he'd die of embarrassment without even giving him a fight. He could also pretend there was nothing out of the ordinary with his attire, as if academy teachers usually dressed in sexy female clothes, apologize to Kakashi and knock on the next door, hoping this time it was Raidou's house. He could also murder Kotetsu for having such appalling penmanship, and the rest of his friends for not being where they should have been.

May:

In Vino Veritas - Kakashi/Iruka - Another of my favourite tropes, second chances

"I almost proposed, once upon a time." He downed his glass and refilled it, using the last of the second jar and signalling for a third. He was feeling the effects of the drink, his tongue loosening, but he didn't mind. Not if it was with Iruka.

Iruka's eyes sharpened on him. "You did? To whom?" There was something in his voice, curiosity and sadness and maybe some jealousy. It was that what made Kakashi think, fuck it, and throw open the can.

"To you."

Iruka closed his eyes as if in pain and downed his glass, refilling it and downing it again.

"I would have said yes." It was Kakashi's turn to drink to ease the lump in his throat. "Do you remember why we broke up?" he finally asked, as if the sake had given him the courage he needed for the question.

June:

The House on the side of the Road - Kakashi/Iruka - again, horror story. Tooke me over four years to finish, but it was worth it.

It was raining. Again.

It was the thing Kakashi hated the most about autumn. The rain, and the chill that settled in the air and made people's mood turn foul, and the fact that Umino Iruka had disappeared on a day not unlike this one, windy and chilly and rainy.

It had been a year since Iruka had failed to return from his mission, practically vanishing into thin air on the road between Ame and Konoha. That same road Kakashi was travelling through now. Kakashi could still remember everything about the day Iruka had been declared MIA, the search party that had been sent to Ame to look for either him or his body. They had returned empty-handed, shaking their heads and declaring Iruka had just vanished into thin air. Without a body, without proof of any attack on him, Iruka couldn't be declared dead. The conclusion, one that didn't sit well with anyone who had ever known him, was that he had deflected, gone rogue.

July:

This Above All - Jaime/Brienne - Jaime coming out as genderfluid with his own parade

That's not the main thing, though. Seeing it like that, hearing the same things Cersei used to tell him growing up has done for Jaime what years of therapy have not managed. He's spent years and thousands of dragons coming to grips with the fact that he's not a freak for feeling sometimes like a woman and wanting soft things for himself, but he hadn't yet found the resolve to take the last step to be fully himself in public and bring the wrath of Tywin over his head.

Now he's angry enough at the treatment of his nephew to get the heir of the Lannister empire, at least until Tywin sees this, on the front page of all magazines dressed as a woman on the pride parade. He has a plan, he's kind of constructed his career around this moment without acknowledging he was doing it, has put the money his mother let him towards his own architecture studio and other small-time investments. Small-time for a Lannister but enough that he doesn't have to fear being left without resources. And neither does his cousin.

Jaime's also contacted an old friend and knows there is a place in the Martell float for him, ensuring maximum visibility because Jaime can do nothing by halves; if he's going to set his life on fire, he wants a bonfire the Seven can see from the heavens.

August:

Just as Sweet (just as thorny) - Jaime/Brienne - Secret identities, second chances, competency kink. It has all my faves

Jaime shouldn't be doing this.

He's going to be fired or punched, more than likely both. It will be no less than he deserves, he's broken the one rule of his department and he was already on shaky ground with Selmy after the whole Baratheon operation fuckup. If this gets back to him, and he doesn't fool himself that it won't, Jaime's as good as out of a job and not even his family name can save him this time. At the very least he'll be reassigned to the fucking Wall unit, something Selmy has been threatening to do for years when Jaime becomes especially obnoxious.

He looks at Brienne, her blue eyes wide and filling with tears, her entire posture radiating hurt and shock and anger and he couldn't care less. If she forgives him and gives him another chance, Jaime will present his resignation himself.

"Jay?" Brienne asks, her voice lost in the din of the club but he's seen her mouth shape that name enough times he can hear her voice in his head, down to the break at the end.

He leans forward again. "Jaime, my name is Jaime."

That's when she punches him.

September:

Skin Deep - Jaime/Brienne - Brienne owns a strip club asn it’s the most oblivious person on earth.

"She shook my hand," Jaime moans into his drink while Pia and Hilda laugh at him. It's Brienne day off and Jaime is there, sitting in her club surrounded by her employees and friends and missing her. Maybe she's really not interested, though he's seen her looking and there have been times when she was blushing and looking at his mouth, that Jaime was convinced he could just lean forward and kiss her and she'd kiss back, then those moments pass and he's back to wondering if he really is so out of practice flirting that she's not realized yet. If she wasn't interested she would just reject his advances, wouldn't she? "You all suck as wingmen and Brienne is the most oblivious person on earth. What do I have to do, dance naked in front of her so she realizes I want her!"

He groans into his drink when he sees the look Pia and Hilda exchange. "That's an excellent idea, Jaime. Roz! Satin! Come here!"

Jaime looks from one to the other and shakes his head vehemently. "No way. I am not doing that."

Famous last words.

October:

Hollow - Jaime/Brienne - The FMA AU I am not writing (and I keep not writing). This one is not posted because it insists on being a multichapter and I refuseto post it until I have at least another chapter done.

"Another fool," a voice says, low and all encompassing, and Jaime turns in the direction it came from to find nothing but a vague shape of a person, almost like a cutout of lines in the whiteness except for deep red eyes and the biggest ruby ever where its throat should be. "Who are you looking for, fool? Lover or family?"

Jaime narrows his eyes at the speaker. "Neither," he says, because Brienne is almost one of those things, but he's never had the courage to examine which one. "Who are you?"

"It doesn't matter, I've had many names since the beginning of time. I'm the World, and The Flames, and Truth, and Magic and Alchemy. I'm Everything and I am Nothing. " The eyes move past Jaime's shoulder and he turns to look, where there was nothing before now a huge door wreathed in flames stands. "And you, fool, are about to learn all I know."

November:

The Drowned Heart - Jaime/Brienne - an Old Guard AU where I make them suffer a lot.

Brienne pushes herself up on her elbows to see him better. "Will I see you again?" she asks instead of asking him to stay.

"Of course you will, wench, I don't think I can stay away from you forever." He looks at her with some chagrin. "I might kill you again when I do."

"I don't mind," Brienne says, it's the truth. "As long as you kiss me again when I come back."

Jaime closes the distance between them in two quick strides and kneels next to her, hands tangling on her head as he presses their lips together. This kiss is the kind she remembers, the kind they have shared a million times just because they could. It's gentle and sweet, a slow exploration of her mouth, his tongue probing and teasing, and so very arousing. He kisses her, and kisses her until they both run out of breath, and then puts their foreheads together and the look in his eyes is so full of love she wants to cry again.

"I will always kiss you again."

December:

The Prodigal Son - Jaime/Brienne - A view of a good future through the eyes of an outsider.

Spring had finally come to the Westerlands after the longest and harshest winter in memory, something Celys had not been sure they would live to see. The realm had been ravaged by war and cold and famine, too many people had died during that time, and even those living in Lannisport and the small towns surrounding Casterly Rock had felt the bite of hunger, something not even the Lannister gold had been able to keep at bay.

Now the snow had melted and the sun warmed them again, a new crop had been planted and there was a new Targaryen King in King's Landing, one with the blood of the dragons but raised as a northerner, and the Lord of Casterly Rock was his Hand.

And tagging @albatrossisland @ddagent @sdwolfpup @nire-the-mithridatist @scoundrels-in-love @wildlingoftarth @slipsthrufingers @angel-deux-writes and whoever else wants to do it!

#tag games #My writing #Jaime x Brienne #kakashi/iruka

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our-time-is-now · 4 years

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June 18, 2019: Bea, saviors and carrots

(previous play)

You can find more information about the authors, translators, content warning and additional information about the plays in the pinned post on our blog.

Tuesday, 5:36 pm:

David: *he and Matteo are just returning from grocery shopping, each of them carrying a semi-heavy shopping bag, when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket* *groans briefly and tells Matteo* Hang on… *puts the bag on the ground and takes his phone out of his pocket* *smiles when he sees Bea’s number and briefly informs Matteo* My godmother… *answers the call and then picks the bag up again* Hey Bea! *continues walking but realizes quickly that walking with the heavy bag while simultaneously talking on the phone isn’t that easy and looks around for a bench or some wall or something*

Matteo: *stops when David does and waits* *only nods when David informs him* *continues walking and notices David struggling and takes the bag from him* *silently pretends to collapse but then continues walking normally*

Bea: David, my dear, hello! How nice that I was able to reach you, am I interrupting something?

David: *protests a little at first when Matteo takes the bag from him because he doesn’t want Matteo to lug so much and then grins when he pretends to collapse* *shakes his head at his aunt’s question and laughs* You’re almost never interrupting… we’re just on our way to the flatshare… we’ve been grocery shopping… *briefly looks at Matteo to see if he can really manage carrying both bags* *then asks his aunt* How are you?

Matteo: *grins very broadly at David* *but quickly sticks his tongue out at him when he looks over*

Bea: Oh, everything’s great. I’m happy to hear you in such a good mood. But if you’re walking right now I’ll keep it brief: I wanted to invite you to my birthday, and, of course, Matteo as well if he wants to?

David: *pulls a face at Matteo but then grins and turns his attention back to his aunt* *frantically tries to remember when Bea’s birthday is and is already planning on telling Matteo the date so that he’ll remember it for him* *is happy that Matteo is also invited* I’ll just ask him, I’m sure he wants to… *grins and looks over at him again* *makes a distressed noise and asks a little ruefully* When was your birthday again? Sometime next month, right? *remembers that it’s always pretty warm*

Matteo: *hears an ‘I’ll just ask him’ and perks up* *then shakes his head in mock exaggeration* *grins slightly but leaves David in peace, after all*

Bea: It’s on July 19th, this year it’s a Friday, but I’ll celebrate on Saturday. But you’re welcome to stay the whole weekend, of course… and by the way, your parents aren’t coming in case that somehow convinces you to come.

David: *laughs at the mention of his parents* Well then I’ll definitely come… *shakes his head and adds* No, but for your sake I would have endured them for a couple of hours, but if they’re not coming it’s more chill, of course… *repeats the date again so he won’t forget it* So your birthday is on July, 19th, but the party’s on July 20th. *feels like he forgot about something* *thinks for a moment and then suddenly remembers their holiday* Oh, no, hang on! Damn! That’s when we’re on holiday! We won’t be back in Berlin until the 21st…

Matteo: *listens to David and can imagine what it’s about, an invitation to Fürstenberg* *then hears the date and immediately shakes his head* *was just about to nudge him when he remembers it himself*

Bea: Oh, man, what a shame. And I was really hoping to finally meet your Matteo, and to see you again, of course. I’m so curious. Are you already busy when you come back or do you maybe want to come visit the weekend after?

David: *smiles when she says that she finally wanted to meet /his/ Matteo and would also be happy for her to meet Matteo* *thinks for a moment about her question about the weekend after, but can’t really think of any plans* *but wants to make sure and ask again so tells Bea* Could you stay in line for a moment? *lowers his phone and turns to Matteo* *smiles slightly* Bea is inviting us to Fürstenberg on the weekend after our holiday. Do you want to go? And do we have time? *looks at him with puppy-dog eyes and hopes that he wants to come along*

Matteo: *looks at him expectantly when he lowers his phone even though he already has an idea of what he’s going to ask* *grins slightly when he asks if “we” have time* Umm… sure I want to, I’m dying to meet all of your heroes… and plans, no, unless you have some short-notice doctor-thing on Friday, but then we’ll just go afterwards. *have finally arrived at the building of the flatshare and with a groan puts down the bags so that he can look for the key*

Bea: Sure… *then hears David ask his boyfriend a little muffled but still well enough to understand everything* *immediately smiles when she hears him* *waits for David to tell her the good news and decides to keep it to herself that she heard Matteo*

David: *smiles quite broadly when Matteo is talking about his heroes and is happy that he wants to go* *stops for a moment when he mentions doctors because he just remembered that the day after tomorrow he really has to talk to his doctor about the testo dosage and if he has to come back before or after their holiday because his usual appointment for the shots would be right when they’re on holiday* *but nods at Matteo’s words and smiles again* Good plan! *quickly kisses him on the mouth and puts his phone back to his ear* Bea? *sees Matteo unlock the door and tries to take one of the bags off him so that he doesn’t have to lug both of them up the stairs* We’re happy to visit you the weekend after and you can already think about what present you want to get so that we don’t buy something stupid…

Bea: Oh, how nice! And you know me, boy, I already have everything I want. You spend money on train tickets, that’s enough present for me.

Matteo: *refuses to let David take a bag* *but pushes David around so that he is holding the door open* *then grabs both bags and walks past David into the building and up the stairs*

David: *grumbles at Bea’s words about the present and grumbles because Matteo won’t let him help* *then sighs at his aunt* Okay… *is probably going to draw something and get a bouquet of flowers once again* I suggest I’ll call you again once we know when we’ll arrive… *hurries up the stairs behind Matteo who is surprisingly fast* *wants to take the bag off him at least for the last few meters but doesn’t really have the chance to because he’s already almost all the way up*

Bea: *laughs slightly when he grumbles* You know I’m happy about flowers and a drawing. See you soon, my dear! Have a nice rest of the day!

Matteo: *puts the bags down again once he reaches the door and unlocks it* *wants to pick both of them up again but David is faster* *laughs* It doesn’t matter anymore now… *enters the apartment after him and lets the door fall shut* *follows him into the kitchen and puts the bag down on the counter*

David: *says goodbye to Bea and puts the phone back in his pocket* *is just in time to grab one of the bags and carry it into the kitchen* *laughs at his words and shakes his head* Noo, I’m sure you would have collapsed on the last few meters… *puts the bag on one of the stools and then steps behind Matteo at the counter and wraps his arms around him* *kisses his neck and murmurs* … and I can’t be responsible for that… *kisses him again and murmurs a little more quietly* Thanks for carrying them!

Matteo: *laughs and nods* I’m sure I would have, thanks my savior. *smiles when David wraps his arms around him and puts his hands over David’s* *laughs quietly* You’re welcome. *turns around in his arms and wraps his arms around David’s neck* So, I’m going to meet your godmother soon… anything I need to know?

David: *smiles when Matteo turns around to him and nods at his statement* *thinks for a moment and then shakes his head* Nothing important… Bea is a registrar and lives in a small house with a garden in Fürstenberg… it’s somehow really quaint and full of stuff at her place… and she’s really cool, talks a lot and has always been there for me. Exactly what one imagines godmothers are like. *laughs again and says* I’m really happy that you’re coming along and that you’ll meet each other… maybe we should take Laura along – then I’d have all my saviors around me! *laughs quietly*

Matteo: *smiles when he tells him about Bea* Sounds nice. *then laughs out loud* All of your saviors, huh? Maybe we should get this printed on t-shirts! *kisses him quickly* You don’t even have to be saved, you loon.

David: *laughs at Matteo’s idea about the t-shirts* Oh yes, please! In trans colors! *smiles when he gets a kiss and pulls Matteo a little closer* *then hears his words and gets a little more serious but is still smiling a little bit* *has a firm conviction that Matteo has definitely saved him but knows that he would immediately disagree if he would tell him that* *therefore simply says* Not anymore… *smiles again and gives him another kiss*

Matteo: *laughs at his suggestion* Unfortunately those colors don’t suit me, at all… *tilts his head a little* *can imagine what David is thinking* *smiles at his answer* *kisses him back and then kisses him again* *then slightly nudges him with his nose* Okay… and now you can decide how I’ll save you from starvation… what do you want me to cook?

David: *draws up his eyebrows in skepticism when Matteo says that the trans colors wouldn’t suit him and only says* I think you can wear anything!! *grins while he says it* *then gets another kiss and smiles when Matteo nudges him with his nose* *loosens his grip around him, lets go of him slowly and thinks* Hmmm… maybe that tarte you were talking about? We put the ingredients for it on the list, didn’t we? *turns to the bags and starts to unpack the things* *turns his head back towards Matteo and says in a good mood* And you can decide what I should help you with! *has planned to look over Matteo’s shoulder while he cooks to maybe one day be able to cook, himself*

Matteo: *only laughs and shakes his head* Liar *nods about the tarte* Yep… but I’ll need the recipe for that, I can’t make it by heart… *only shakes his head when he says that he wants to help* *grins* You can print out the recipe for me. And then you can sit down over there so that I have something pretty to look at. *laughs and slightly nudges him with his hip when they want to put something in the fridge at the same time* *sees David’s disapproving look* Okay, okay, if there’s something you can help with I’ll tell you, but I haven’t made the tarte that often yet…

David: *looks at Matteo disapprovingly when he says that he’s not allowed to help but nudges him back with his hip* If you won’t let me help I’ll never learn and then you’ll have to cook for me for the rest of your life! *but then nods satisfied when he says that he’s allowed to help, after all, and grins* Yeah! *then turns toward the door and says* I’ll just go and print out the recipe… *has already left the kitchen but sticks his head back in* Oh and could you and your super-brain do me a favor and remember Bea’s birthday? Would be really nice if I wouldn’t forget it next year for a change… *grins again and then disappears* *briefly wonders if it was July 19th or 20th and hopes that Matteo has paid attention*

Matteo: *theatrically clutches his chest* Oh now, how horrible! *then nods when David says he’ll go print the recipe* Yes, in a big font, please! *wants to already wipe down the counter and goes over to the sink when David sticks his head back in* *laughs at his request and nods* *then calls after him* The 19th, by the way! How did you remember birthdays before you met me?? *rinses the rag and then wipes down the counter*

David: *didn’t answer Matteo’s question and instead went into his room to print out the recipe in a big font* *a short while later returns to the kitchen, where Matteo has already prepared everything, and puts the recipe down for him* *then takes a carrot, simply because it was lying around, leans his back against the counter and starts to absentmindedly turn it around in his hands* *returns to Matteo’s question from a minute ago and says a little bitterly and sarcastically* My mother always reminded me about family birthdays – of course always with a reproachful undertone why I couldn’t manage to remember them myself… *didn’t have many friends whose birthdays were worth remembering* *continues* At some point I even wrote them down but it’s no use… then I forget to look at the note. *grins slightly and then shrugs* And now I have Laura and you for the dates… *then looks over to see what Matteo is doing and waits for instructions* *puts the carrot back to the others*

Matteo: *splays out the recipe* Thanks… *then looks at it to see what has to be done and starts* *rolls his eyes when David tells him about his mother* Damn I really want to meet her one day… it’s not important to you that they like me, right? *shakes his head disapprovingly* *but then grins slightly and nods* I’m happy to remind you. *points to the carrots* You can peel them if you want…

David: *laughs when Matteo asks about his mother and shrugs* If one day they annoy me so much that I want to completely terminate all contact with them, then you’re welcome to rage and riot as much as you want… *looks around for a peeler and sees that Matteo has already put one out* …but she would complain about it to Laura and I’d be sorry about it for Laura… *starts peeling the carrot bot isn’t really happy with what he’s doing* *tries something different that works better* …whereas… Laura can actually defend herself pretty well… so *grins slightly* …rage and riot as much as you want. *is finished with the first carrot and is quite happy with the result* *holds it out to Matteo* There still has to go some at the top and the bottom, right?

Matteo: *hums slightly when he says that it wouldn’t be completely okay* No, no, then I’ll rather hold back… but only a little. *had already turned his attention to some other vegetable and didn’t really pay attention to what David has been doing* *then looks at the carrot he’s holding out to him* Ummm, yes? You can chop off the ends but the rest has to be peeled… *then watches him peel for a moment and realizes how his heart skips a beat because he does it so incredibly complicated* Noo… *laughs slightly and takes the peeler and the carrot out of his hands* Look, like this… *briefly shows him how to do it faster and more efficiently*

David: *grins slightly and says* A little bit is okay… *wonders when Matteo and his parents will meet in the first place – probably only when it can’t be avoided anymore, at all* *nods about chopping off the ends* *then eyes it and realizes that there really is some peel left* *was just about to remove it when Matteo takes the carrot and peeler from him* *only briefly looks at the carrot and realizes quickly how Matteo is holding the carrot and peeler but then only looks at Matteo and has to smile* *somehow can’t tear his gaze away from him because he looks so incredibly good when he’s so focused*

Matteo: *has peeled the carrot, puts the peeler back down on the counter and reaches for the knife to chop off the ends* And voila… the carrot’s ready! *holds it out to him and only then feels like David isn’t really focused* *looks at him and lifts his eyebrows* What?

David: *hears that Matteo has finished peeling the carrot and only nods* *grins slightly when Matteo looks at him and lifts his eyebrows* *shrugs and acts all innocent* Nothing… *quickly presses a kiss on his mouth and keeps grinning* I just like looking at you when you’re so concentrated…

Matteo: *lifts his eyebrows again when he hears his “nothing”* *but then gets kissed and has to smile automatically* *feels a strange flutter in his stomach when he hears David’s words but shakes his head* You like looking at me when I concentrate on peeling carrots? *slightly tilts his head* Is that a new fetish we have to talk about? Is that exclusive to concentrating on vegetables or does that also entail other things? Like, for example, fruit? Or spreads?

David: *grins and nods at his question about the carrots* Exactly like that… *but then gets more and more skeptical when he hears his other questions, pffs once, tilts his head and says sulkily* Haha… *looks at Matteo reproachfully, turns away from him and reaches for another carrot and the peeler* *does it the way Matteo has showed him – because he DID pay attention – and is happy about the fact that it’s really working better this way* *ignores Matteo*

Matteo: *grins slightly when David turns away sulkily* Oh, come on… you can tell me… *continues doing his thing with the vegetable he’s occupied with* Is it exclusive to the kitchen or other things as well? What about when I concentrate on tidying up? *turns around and only sees David’s back who is ignoring him* Or to making the bed? *no reaction* Vacuuming? *still nothing* *puts his peeler down and steps behind David* And what about… when I concentrate on you? *slowly wraps his arms around his stomach and puts his head against his shoulder* *kisses his neck and then his ear* *whispers* Come on…

David: *finds it hard to ignore Matteo completely but is incredibly happy with himself that he really manages to ignore him while also perfectly peeling two more carrots while Matteo is talking some nonsense* *then feels Matteo step behind him and is still able to ignore his question but realizes that his concentration on the carrots is subsiding somewhat* *unfortunately has to stop peeling when he feels Matteo’s arms around his stomach and his head on his shoulder because he’s simply so in love with this idiot and simply can’t manage to ignore him when he’s that close /and/ also starts kissing his neck and his ear* *eventually grumbles quietly* You’ve ruined my Matteo-concentrating-sight… go away! *but contrary to his statement leans slightly against him*

Matteo: *laughs quietly at his grumbling* Sorry… won’t happen again… I promise… *ignores his “go away” and instead kisses his neck again* Let me make it up to you, ok? *kisses up his neck wherever he can reach* *murmurs quietly* Do you still want me to go away?

David: *briefly closes his eyes when Matteo starts kissing up his neck and tilts his head a little so that he has better access* *has to grin when Matteo asks him if he still wants him to go away and makes a grumbling noise* *puts the carrot and the peeler down because now he can’t think about peeling carrots anymore and slowly turns around – which proves to be difficult as he’s half stuck between Matteo and the counter* *puts his arms around Matteo’s neck and tilts his head again so that Matteo can continue kissing him there* *runs one hand through Matteo’s hair and mumbles* All right… you can continue…

Matteo: *grins slightly when David only grumbles* *already knows this grumble and continues* *but then pulls away slightly when David turns around* *looks at him challengingly and grins in triumph when he tilts his head* *is already kissing his neck again even before David gives him permission to do so* *kisses up to his ear and murmurs* We could also cook later…

David: *presses even closer to Matteo when he starts kissing his neck again* *still has his eyes closed, one hand buried in the hair on his neck and at some point slips his other hand under Matteo’s shirt at his back and tenderly runs his hand over his bare skin* *gets goosebumps when Matteo kisses up to his ear because it tickles a little and tilts his head slightly so that he can also kiss Matteo’s neck* *grins slightly when he hears Matteo’s words and kisses up his neck, up his chin until he finally finds his mouth* *pulls him even closer while kissing him properly, then pushes away from the counter and takes a step towards the kitchen door together with Matteo* *briefly pulls away from the kiss and says a little breathlessly* Now I can’t concentrate on peeling carrots anymore, anyways…

Matteo: *feels slight, pleasant goosebumps when David’s hand slips under his shirt* *kisses him back and stumbles backwards when David pushes off the counter* *grins as if he had just won the lottery when he hears David’s words* *murmurs* That’s it… *grabs his hand and quickly pulls him into his room*

(next play)

#Druck #druck og #matteo florenzi #david schreibner #davenzi #davenzi plays

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wipbigbang · 4 years

Text

2020 Schedule + FAQ

Schedule

All times are by 8:59pm CST. Convert time zones.

We also have a Google calendar you can subscribe to with the schedule.

Sign-ups Begin- April 30th Sign-ups Close- May 9th Check In #1- May 16th Check In #2- May 30th Snippets Due- June 13th Art Claims Begin- June 17th Check In #3- June 27th Check In #4- July 11th Rough Drafts Due- July 25th Posting Claims Begin- July 29th Check In #5- August 1st Posting Claims Ends- August 8th Final Drafts/Art Due- August 15th Posting Starts- August 15th

FAQ

What is the WIP Big Bang? Good question! This is a Big Bang with one goal in mind: to clean out your drafts folder. These are stories that were unfinished for whatever reason, that authors returned to and completed, and the art that goes with them! Do I need a Livejournal/Dreamwidth/AO3/etc. account to participate? No! You don’t have to have an account on anything to participate, though you will need to have somewhere to post your finished work. Having one or more accounts will help for you to follow what is going on with the bang (we crosspost to Livejournal, Dreamwidth, Tumblr, and Twitter at the moment), but they are not required to participate. You can always leave comments anonymously or with an opensource ID. Will I get emails about the bang? We do send out some emails, mostly for snippets and art claims and to ensure communication between authors and artists, but please do NOT rely on getting an email to remind you of due dates. We currently do not keep an updated email list of participants, so we only send individual emails as needed rather than mass emails. However, email is the fastest way to communicate with the mods. If you have any questions or are having trouble communicating with your artist/author, please do email us! We will do our best to respond quickly. Is there a minimum word count? 7,500 words, but the sky's the limit, right? What do you mean by minimum word count to enter? This is a WIP Big Bang, therefore we ask you to have at least 500 words of your story drafted when you enter. It's okay if you have posted a few chapters of your fic already (you never know when the muse deserts you, after all), we just require you to refrain from posting more until posting begins here. Is there anything not allowed? As long as you wrote it and you want to finish it, you're welcome to participate. Just bear in mind that original work is only allowed on AO3 if it has a fannish connection and might make it hard for artists to work with. But we'll make a dedicated post for that if there will be any. What are 'Check Ins’? These are a way for us to see what you've been up to and for you to make sure you're still on track. It will give you a little nudge/reminder if you need it, but they are not compulsory. What are the snippets requirements? In order to allow the artists to make art for the story they claimed, we require you to supply three snippets from your fic, between 500 – 1500 words each. The snippets will be sent to the artist after they have claimed your story. They're to help the artist match your story for artwork the best way he or she possibly can. It’s helpful to choose scenes or parts of scenes that you feel best represent your fic, but don’t feel like they have to be perfect to be submitted. Along with the snippets, we will send your artist the basic fic info and your email, so the two of you can collaborate more if you would both like. What are the rough drafts requirements? For the rough drafts, stories should be at least 80% complete. You will not have to turn them in to us, just assure us that you are at that point. Anything less is at the discretion of the mods and those authors should speak to one of the mods asap. What is, and do I need, a beta? A beta is basically a person who goes over your work to make sure that there are no spelling/grammatical errors and they can even be of assistance in helping you with story lines, etc. It is highly recommended that a beta looks over your work before posting. Where can I post my fic/art? Stories and art can be posted to your own personal journal, tumblr, ff-net, AO3, or wherever you like. For those of you with AO3 accounts, we will set up a collection that will go live on the day of the posting. Also, we've enabled moderated posting to the comm (Livejournal and Dreamwidth) for members. We will post a template for posting artwork and stories to the comm closer to the posting date. If you don’t currently have an AO3 account but would like one, you can contact the mods for an invitation code. You can also add yourself to the AO3 Invites Request queue. How do I know when to post? Posting will be tiered; you'll each get your own posting date that you and your artist will decide on together. There will probably be three fics, plus art, posting per day between August 15th and September 30th. The post with date claims will go up on July 29th and you'll have to choose your date by August 8th. If you want to post your story in chapters on AO3 or your own blog (or wherever you usually post), you may do so starting August 8th. However, posting has to be finished by your chosen posting date to the comm. One of the things we're hoping to do with the posted dates is to give everybody on the comm a little bragging time in the spotlight. You know, "this story was incomplete for this long, but I finished this sucker." If you don't have time to post on your chosen posting date, you can queue up a post ahead of time and we can post it on the date you picked. Either way works for us. Art will be due on the chosen posting date to the comm. Is there a minimum/maximum requirement for my art? There is no strict minimum, but we do ask artists to remember that the authors are writing a minimum of 7,500 words and your artwork should reflect that. You can do anything you like, including banners, wallpapers, icons, mixes, vids, gif sets, picspams, etc. Suggested guidelines for art are 500x500px (or equivalent of smaller pieces like banner + spacers, cover + icons, etc.) for traditional art, digital art, and manips; 2 minutes for vids; 10 songs + cover art for mixes; and 6 images for gif sets and picspams. We also ask that when you are in contact with the author, you work with them to see if there is anything specific they would like (i.e. a wallpaper, book cover, etc.). The art is your work, but having ideas doesn't hurt! What are 'art claims'? The claims are when anonymous summaries of the story go up for artists to choose from. It is based on a 'first come, first served' basis and artists may choose up to three potential stories (in case their first choice is unavailable). If there are more stories than artists, there will be a second round of claims wherein artists may choose a second story to work with. And on until all stories are claimed for art. If a fic up for claiming is rated explicit (R, NC-17, etc.), please only claim the story if you are over 18 years of age. Some authors may be uncomfortable working with underage artists on explicit works. We do not verify ages in any way for the bang, so this is solely on the honor system. Can I get an extension? Community extensions may be given in the event that the majority of the authors/artists need one. They may also be given individually under certain circumstances, but this must be discussed with the mods and will only be a short extension for posting. If you are certain that you won’t be able to finish your story in time, please let us know by June 13th. What do I do if I have problems or concerns about my author/artist? Sometimes authors and artists do not get along and this may cause problems with working together. If this happens to be the case with you, please email the mods and we will try to do what we can so that everyone has a chance to have fun at WIP Big Bang! If you have not heard from your author/artist in some time after trying to contact them, you can reach out to us via email and we will try to get in touch with them for you. Can I drop out? We have high hopes that everybody who signs up can actually finish the round and share in the joy of the reveal with us, but real life can unfortunately get in the way and we completely understand! If you feel like you just cannot finish in time and no amount of assistance from us can help you, just let us know by June 13th (if at all possible). Is it possible to be banned? We do have a banned users list. We hope to use this to encourage participants who are having issues to communicate with the mods. We want to help you! The way the ban works is that participants, either authors and artists, will be banned for dropping out without notifying a mod. This means that anyone who has not posted or talked to a mod by the time the posting period ends will be banned. Dropping out is not in and of itself a banning offense, so please do not panic if you have to drop out! We understand that there are many reasons you may need to drop, and we want to work with you. Bans will last one round or until the issue is resolved, whichever comes first. To resolve a ban, authors will have to finish and post the story they signed up with and artists will have to finish and post the art for the story they claimed. Three bans will result in a permanent ban from the bang. I have a question/concern that’s not mentioned here. If you need help, you can always contact a mod and we will do our best to make sure that you get your story/art finished. The best and fastest method of contact is through our email, [email protected].

#WIPBigBang #WIP Big Bang #schedule #FAQ #2020 #mod post

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songsofacagedbird · 4 years

Text

Is that BALIAN “BALO” DRISKELL? Wow, they do look a lot like EMILIIE DE RAVIN I hear SHE is an EIGHTEEN year old high school SENIOR. Word is they are a REGULAR student at Luxor Academy. You should watch out because they can be NAIVE and SENSITIVE, but on the bright side they can also be BUBBLY and OPTIMISTIC. Ultimately, you’ll get to see it all for yourself.

the basics //

Full Name: Balian “Balo” Grace Driskell

Preferred Name: Balo Driskell

Age: 18

Birthday: February 23rd

Zodiac: Pisces

Gender & Pronouns: Woman (She/Hers)

Sexuality: Balo doesn’t label her sexuality, she’s part of the LGBT+ community (and has canonly dated both girls and boys) but she doesn’t feel comfortable labeling it personally.

Occupation: N/A, she occasionally does commissions though (both art and in like making clothes)

Relationship Status: In a relationship with Cade Carroll (npc) since early May

Place of Birth: Rochester, New York

Hometown: Saratoga Springs, New York

Country of Citizenship: United States

Languages Spoken: English (first) and French

deeper dive //

Hobbies and Talents:

○ Sketching (in particular people and animals, an inspiration board for her sketch book can be found here.)

○ Painting

○ Gymnastics (her leg is her left leg! By “her leg” I mean the leg she leads off with / does her split with for her floor routine / has better balance)

○ Fashion Design and Sewing

○ Cheerleading

○ Gymnastics

○ Yoga

○ Roller Skating

○ Scrapbooking

○ Dancing (a hobby, not a talent)

○ She can touch her nose with her tongue

Favorites:

○ Color: The entire rainbow, Balo has issues with picking one favorite color so she doesn’t choose.

○ Food: Balo’s not the biggest on food but she has a weakness for popcorn. Extra butter, light on the salt.

○ Animal: Cats

○ Drink: Hot Chocolate

○ Flower: Sunflowers

○ Book: a fairy tale collection she got from Zander when she was a child

○ Holiday: Christmas, to the point she’ll start decorating as early as she can. (June? Why not!)

○ Movie: The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh

○ Scent: Strawberries, real a bit more than the artificial but she adores both.

○ Place: Her “little art studio” (technically just a corner of her room with her art supplies).

○ Quote:

“Butterflies can’t see their wings. They can’t see how truly beautiful they are, but everyone else can. People are like that as well.” - Unknown

Bêtes Noires:

○ Color: Dark brown, although she won’t admit to it

○ Food: Chicken à la King

○ Animal: Spiders, Balo does not like spiders and would like to stay far away from them

○ Drink: Matcha

○ Flower: Nepenthes peltata

○ Book: The Divergent Books

○ Holiday: 4th of July

○ Movie: Rugrats in Paris, she thinks it’s practically a horror movie

○ Scent: Garlic

○ Place: The Driskell family home in Saratoga Springs

health //

Conditions:

○ Anorexia Nervosa

○ HIV

Allergies: N/A

Sleeping Habits: Balo gets to bed usually at a good time and sleeps 8 hours at a shot.

Exercise Habits: She exercises multiple times of day, between gymnastics and cheerleading, it’s important she’s in prime shape. Dance and Yoga are her go-tos outside of practice.

Addictions: N/A

Drug Use: Very rarely. After a bad LSD trip (when she wasn’t aware she was being drugged until after the fact), she’s very wary of drugs on average.

Alcohol Use: Occasionally. Balo doesn’t have a high alcohol tolerance, she gets tipsy after one drink and if she keeps drinking, after a couple the odds of her stripping are extremely high. (It’s not a sexual thing, she overheats and doesn’t really think about the consequences).

personality //

MBTI: ESFP

Enneagram: 2w3 (The Helper with The Achiever Wing)

Alignment: Neutral Good

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff

Percy Jackson Parent: Iris

Pokémon Type: Dragon

Pokémon Subtype: Ghost

Winx: Nature

appearance //

Height: 5′11” – not at fc height (I enjoy her being a few cm taller than Zander too much to put her at fc now #oops)

Tattoos: One

Scars: None

Piercings: Ears

Hair: Blonde

Eyes: Blue

Fashion:

○ link to balo’s closet

○ link to balo’s shoes

life at luxor //

Classes:

○ Communications

○ French

○ General P.E.

○ Visual Arts

○ Fashion Design

○ Human Biology

○ Beginner Ballet

Clubs and Activities:

○ Art Club

○ Cheerleading (Flyer)

○ Gymnastics

fun facts //

○ Balo has been attending Luxor since her Freshman year.

○ Balo’s kind of a literal ray of sunshine who believes (almost) everyone is truly good at heart.

○ Very easy to manipulate, please manipulate her. I’ll literally give you my firstborn.

○ Usually you’ll see her running around with a smile trying to brighten everyone’s day. She tries to put everyone’s happiness before herself, however, she’s slowly getting better about forming boundaries.

○ While it’d be easy to assume Balo’s dumb, that’s not quite the case. She only remembers the information she wants to. The issue is... most of the information she wants to learn is relatively useless. Want to know how to sew sutures? She’s your girl. Want to know the definition of cannibalism? Well, ask Jack how that goes.

○ She has two teddy bears and an American Girl doll living on her dresser. Duffy, Shelley-Mae, and Robin Banks. They’re decorative, but they make her happy.

○ One of her best friends is Logan Keller, the boy who went missing during the summer camping trip. The two are still in touch, and extremely close, so occasionally he gets mentioned here and there, but it’s still a sore spot for her (I am still in touch with the person who played him, so I run stuff by his mun when / if he comes up).

○ Jack’s adoptive parents recently adopted her, although she hasn’t said a lot about it. Your muse probably won’t know unless one of the two directly told them (or they heard it from Zander). It’s not a secret, she just didn’t make an announcement or anything.

○ In October 2019, Zander had an intervention for her to force her to get help for her eating disorder. She was in inpatient until April 2020, when she returned to Luxor.

○ Cheer and Gymnastics team member from Freshmen year until her intervention, and she returned to both teams this fall with the new school year.

○ Balo’s left handed (the only one of my muses that is a lefty)!

○ I’m aware Balo’s family page can be complicated, please feel free to dm me with questions. Also, please remember Balo doesn’t know she’s Daniel’s daughter, let alone the fact there’s even a chance Lance isn’t her father, which means your muse has absolutely no way of knowing this.

○ Befriended a stray racoon on the Lake George campus she named Reese Withercoon.

○ Literally only just said her first swear word this June, we’re very proud of her for finally getting that done. (#ThanksAxelAndLeo)

○ Balo finds the Winnie the Pooh theme song extremely soothing, which resulted in her naming a certain group chat with a set of friends the 100 Acre Woods - because she finds spending time with them soothing too.

○ I’m always willing to discuss my muses, so feel free to hit me up if you have any questions at any point.

a tl;dr history //

○ Balo’s home life growing up was far from perfect. Her father, Lance - is an abusive alcoholic, and while her mother tried her best to protect her children - she also covered things up without hesitation because she loves her husband. It wasn’t uncommon to see a Driskell in the ER with a lie and people willing to back up the story.

○ Balo was conceived during the time Lance and Cassandra were seperated the only time that her mother tried to leave. She’s completely unaware that she’s not Lance’s biological daughter (as is everyone else).

○ She’s been attending Luxor since freshman year, although she had to leave in the middle of her Junior year had to leave for a few months to attend extensive inpatient treatment. She came back in April, although she could not rejoin the cheerleading and gymnastic teams until her therapist confirmed she was doing well (so the start of her senior year) because of concerns about her well-being.

○ She was disowned following her HIV diagnosis over the fall. Over the winter, the Fieldings adopted Balo.

○ I strongly recommend skimming Balo’s timeline page before interacting with her. These are just the bare minimum basics, and there're more things your muse may know on there.

wanted connections //

○ Friendships

○ Someone to manipulate her, please I beg you

○ Anyone who knows her from the gymnastics and/or cheer teams, or the art club

#luxorintro #child abuse tw #abuse tw #HIV tw #disownment tw #eating disorder tw #anorexia tw #drugs tw #alcohol tw

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excelsi-or · 4 years

Text

24/07/19 - what to do with change (woozi)

to a boy i love right now

w.c. 2.3k (little bit of a longer one today)

June 4, 2019

July 24, 2019

“How is he though?” Seungkwan demands.

She shrugs, running around the kitchen like a headless chicken. She has a piece of toast in her mouth and an apple in one hand. Her phone is on as she checks the time, the time she needs to leave getting closer and closer.

It’s the start of her second month at her summer intern position and the last thing she wants to do is screw it up. She’s been on edge since starting there and Seungkwan is starting to get worried. One, because the woman hasn’t said anything about Jihoon in the last month and a half. And two, because he can’t remember a time when he’s seen his composed roommate look so on edge. He grabs her shoulders to stop her from almost spinning.

“Noona, you need to breathe.”

Her breath is shaky as she tries to calm down. “There are literally so many things I think I’m forgetting.”

“You didn’t sleep last night again, did you?”

She huffs and spins around. Seungkwan catches the crazy eye. Without Hansol around, it’s difficult to calm her down these days. He has no idea what’s going on with Jihoon, if they’ve broken up or what, but this seems to be a storm he has to weather on his own. Seungkwan follows her through their apartment. He collects her stuff together, picking up little things that she’s forgetting.

Like her wallet.

And her hat.

And the report she spent all of last night finishing.

Seungkwan winces when she glosses over that last one. She’s really not in her right mind. “Noona, are you sure you’re okay? You don’t want me to go with you to the work site? I can at least ride on the bus with you.”

She shakes her head, trying (and failing) to take deep breaths. She puts everything in her backpack and exhales loudly when Seungkwan hands over the things she’d forgotten. She closes her eyes and really tries to center herself. That is until her phone alarm begins blaring telling her she needs to leave. Right now.

“I’ll be fine, Seungkwanie, really.” She smiles at him, though it’s strained. “You should really go home. Visit your family in Jeju.”

Seungkwan shakes his head. “No. I told Hansol that I’d wait for him to come home first.”

She nods and hurries out of the apartment.

Since his graduation and starting at his new company, no one has really heard anything from Jihoon. Seungkwan calls Hansol, checking the time to make sure it’s not an unearthly hour in New York.

It still is, but he lets it ring through.

Hansol’s face appears on the screen. His eyes are half open and his hair is a mess. “Seungkwan? What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

“Noona just left here a complete mess. She won’t talk about Jihoon hyung and I don’t know what to do.”

Hansol becomes significantly more alert at the mention of her. “I’ve only been gone a month. What’s happened?”

Seungkwan runs through the whirlwind of the intern position and the lack of communication from Jihoon. “You know them. She lets Jihoon do everything in his own time, but if he gets wrapped up in his music again—”

“He’s gonna wind up the same Jihoon hyung before they were dating,” Hansol agrees. He runs a hand over his face. “I’ll see what I can do. I won’t be home until next month. Will you guys be okay?”

“If you answer my calls at all hours,” Seungkwan chuckles, “yes.”

During her ride home, her head falls against the window as her eyes flutter closed. At least until her phone starts ringing.

She quickly answers it. “Hello?” she mumbles.

“Noona?”

It takes her a beat to recognize the voice. Since Hansol went to New York and she hasn’t really seen Jihoon in a few months, she hasn’t heard from Mingyu. “Gyu, what’s going on?”

“Everything’s fine, noona,” he laughs. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

She sighs in relief. “Fine. I’m good. Tired.”

“Are you up for going to dinner?”

“Dinner?” She pauses to gauge her energy level. “Sure. Where?”

She detours past her house, getting off two stops later. She looks around at the familiar surroundings. It feels like ages since she’s been in Jihoon’s neighbourhood. Mingyu greets her at the bus stop and wraps an arm around her shoulders. “Are you shrinking, noona? I swear you weren’t this short before.”

She snorts, smacking him in the chest. “Oh, shut up. You need to stop growing.” She looks up at him, smiling at the familiarity of him. “How are you doing, Gyu?”

“Good. I’m working near campus for the summer. That bulgogi place that hyung likes.”

“Oh,” she hums. “That’s good. They pay you well?”

“Enough to survive until my scholarship kicks in again,” he chuckles. He asks her about her new job; about all the people she’s met. They walk to a nearby hot pot restaurant on his street and they find themselves in a booth at the back.

“You don’t come around anymore,” Mingyu says once they’ve ordered.

He’s done an excellent job of avoiding the subject this long. Unfortunately, she has no real response for him.

“I know. Life has been getting in the way.” She toys with her napkin, folding it into triangles and then spreading it out again.

“Noona.”

She lifts her gaze to meet his.

“He’s just really busy. He’s hardly home.”

She nods her head. “I know. He sends me a text on occasion.”

“Hyung also doesn’t do well with change,” Mingyu informs her. “New things really scare the crap out of him.”

“Yeah.”

Mingyu takes a sip of water and continues. “Hyung has this thing where he needs to be completely comfortable with the new thing before he can adjust his life around it.” He understands her confused expression. “I just don’t want you to think that hyung’s forgotten about you.”

“No. I don’t think that.” She sighs. “I just miss him.”

“And you should. You have every right to.”

“I feel like an inconvenience to him, so I just don’t text him anymore.”

Mingyu runs a hand through his hair, blowing the air out of his cheeks. “He thought you were mad at him.”

“What?”

“Sometimes he gets in late at night and we’ll talk for a while and you’ll come up.” Mingyu shrugs. “He thinks that you’ve stopped talking to him, because you’re mad about him being busy. So he said he’ll wait for you to come around.”

She hums. “I’m a little mad.”

“He’s home, if you’re wondering.”

She sighs. Her life without Jihoon has been a whirlwind and she’s tired. Life with Jihoon feels like a lifetime ago now.

“He doesn’t know I’m with you. He thinks I’m with Wonwoo hyung.”

“Isn’t he—?”

“Working as a lyricist for a small company, yeah. He’s freelancing on the side.”

“Meaning that he’s probably too busy to see you right now.”

“He’s working on his stuff, but yeah. He’s also too busy right now. Perfect excuse,” Mingyu chuckles.

Their food arrives, the broth bubbling and the smell intoxicating. She didn’t realize how hungry she was until the food was brought out. Mingyu motions for her to eat first.

An hour later, their conversation lightening during the meal, Mingyu insists on paying. They head back towards the bus stop, passing his apartment on the way.

“He is home, noona,” Mingyu says, noting her slowing pace and her eyes on the doorway.

“But is he busy?”

“Always.”

She sighs and looks up at him. “Can I face him?”

“Hell yes you can!” Mingyu exclaims. “You’re the best thing to walk into his life, noona. Please go walk back into it.”

“Where are you going to go?”

“Bug Wonwoo hyung for a while,” he laughs. “He got an apartment close by so he could stop rooming with his university roommate.” Mingyu drags her to the front door and unlocks it for her. With a nudge, he says, “Go.”

The ride up to their floor is nostalgic. The smells are the same, the floral scent of their floor contrasting the musky smell of the elevator. The random flickering light halfway down the hallway still hasn’t been fixed. She can still hear that same tiny dog barking from the end of the hall. Then she’s standing in front of Jihoon’s apartment door; staring down at the welcome mat she made the two boys buy months ago.

Steeling her nerves, she forces herself inside.

The apartment looks different. The boys have rearranged their living room. They even changed the curtains. She can hear music coming from Jihoon’s side of the apartment. She leaves her backpack by the door, slips out of her shoes, and follows the sound to Jihoon’s room.

She stands on the other side and listens closely. She doesn’t get to actually register the song as it stops. There’re a few beats of silence, and for a moment, she thinks he’s going to bed. Then her voice fills the apartment.

She pushes the door open a bit. Jihoon is sat on his bed; his head leaned back against the wall, eyes closed.

“Ji…?” she whispers.

Jihoon’s body snaps upright and he stares at her like he’s seeing a ghost.

She pushes the door open further, waiting for a real reaction. She’s still dressed in her work clothes. She hadn’t had to go into the field today, so she looks mildly presentable.

“You look… uncomfortable,” he comments.

Her brow furrows, not exactly the first thing she wanted her boyfriend to say to her.

“I mean… since when do you dress like that?” Jihoon clears his throat awkwardly.

She glances down at the outfit. “Yeah, it’s not my favourite either. I wear it to work.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

There’s a beat of silence and she lets her eyes pan around the room. Nothing is different. She wouldn’t expect there to be much change; Jihoon’s a creature of habit. “Are you… well?”

“Yeah, I’m… I should probably eat more, but work is busy. There’s a, uh, rookie group debuting soon? Got me working double time.”

She nods her head. She wants to step further into the room, but she also wants to bolt out of here because it feels so weird. This doesn’t even feel like the first time they met. Maybe she knows too much now for it to be like that.

“You’ve been well?” he asks.

She smiles, but even doing that takes a lot of effort. “Work’s trying to kill me.”

“Are you in a rush?”

She looks back towards the door. “No…”

Jihoon scoots to the edge of the bed, his laptop forgotten on the side. “Tell me all about it then.”

She stares at him. He looks the exact same as the last day she saw him. His face is a little gaunter, his jaw a little more defined. It’s only been a few months since they were properly together, but it feels so different. Slowly, she moves to sit in front of him on the floor and begins talking.

Before long, words are spilling out of her mouth, all the stresses she’s felt working the new job and the pressure she’s felt to do well. Jihoon, seemingly falling back into rhythm with her, shares his own anecdotes about work. They swap stories about difficult bosses and hilarious coworkers. He tells her about the rookies and idols he’s met and she updates him on their friends’ lives, as he apparently hasn’t really kept in touch with anyone.

She glances at her watch and grimaces when she notes that two hours have gone by. “I should really get home,” she says. “Gyu invited me out for dinner; I wasn’t supposed to be out for so long.”

“Oh, okay.” The disappointment in Jihoon’s voice is evident.

She hasn’t moved from her spot on the floor and it’s nice to just see Jihoon in person again. She wishes that he had come to join her or at least pulled her onto the bed, but she tries not to hope for too much so soon. She pushes herself to standing and he walks her to the door.

“How did you get in?”

“Gyu forced me inside,” she chuckles, scooping her backpack off the floor.

Jihoon hums. She slips into her shoes again and the two of them stare at each other, goodbyes hanging in the air.

“I hope you know I missed you,” he says quietly.

She nods her head. “I hope you know that I’m not mad that you didn’t text or call often.”

Jihoon takes a step towards her, his hands reaching for her waist. She lets him take the lead on this one, not wanting to push him further than he’d like to go. His eyes roam all over her features and his hands find their way underneath her work shirt, that she’d untucked while sitting on his floor. His palms are soft against her sides and she tips her head, wondering where in the world this is going.

Jihoon gives her a gentle tug towards him, pulling her body flush against his. He catches her lips in a kiss and she wastes no time giving his bottom lip a small nibble. Chuckling, he pulls away. “Well, I’m glad that’s not different.”

She smiles at him, her nerves dissolving completely. “You scared me, Lee Jihoon. I thought I was going to have to start all over with you.”

“You’re sure you can’t stay?”

“Text me the next time you’re home early, lover boy. I’ll sleep over.”

“I should have forewarned you that I’m really shitty with change.” His hands move to the small of her back, holding her in place.

“I knew, but I guess I just really didn’t know. We’ll work on it.”

Jihoon pecks her nose, lingering close to her face. “I’ll see you soon?”

She dips her head to kiss him quickly. “Yes, my love. I’ll come find you again soon.”

Next: August 13, 2019

#woozi imagines #woozi scenarios #lee jihoon scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen #svt #tabilrn

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