#like I was given a case study and the dad and mom are like. smacking their kid as discipline and they’re SHOCKED she’s hitting to-

[def-ace-ing-it]

Psych papers are just so funny because you get a case study to analyze and you have to apply a theory to it to basically say “hey maybe don’t hit your kids” in four-to-five pages

[spencers-renaissance]

this heavy humanness

Summary: Spencer leaves the oven on overnight, and Derek - whose pent-up emotions get the best of him - loses it, exposing secrets neither of them expected to be spilled, for two very different reasons. They get there in the end.

or; Spencer's suffered far too much abuse in his life and Derek knew about none of it. He shouldn't have found out like this.

Tags: est. rel., past abuse, arguing & making up, hurt/comfort, miscommunication, angst with a happy ending, hurt spencer TW: implied/referenced - child abuse, abuse & csa. trauma response that could be perceived as dissociation. misplaced frustration at neurodivergence. nothing graphic but message me for more info if needed.

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 3.9k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

This fills the "Domestic Violence" square of my Bad Things Happen Bingo. It's a heavy one folks so please heed the tags, but fear not, as always we have a happy ending ahead of us! <3 Title by Rainer Maria Rilke.

Spencer knows it’s ridiculous. Derek will not hurt him: this much he knows for certain. Derek is safe, he is home, he is his person. Derek would die before laying a hand on him.

This objective knowledge does not stop the fear from building in his chest, fizzling through his veins until his whole body is alight with it, simmering under the surface of his cold skin as Derek shouts, his face contorted in anger. Spencer might know that Derek won’t hurt him, but that doesn’t mean he can forget what’s happened in the past when he’s put that same expression on crueller people’s faces.

“How could you be so irresponsible, Spencer?”

He doesn’t know. The sinking feeling of failure, of disappointing someone he loves so much settles deep in his stomach as he watches Derek pace up and down the living room while he stays firmly planted on the sofa, pressed as far into the corner as he can.

He didn’t mean to leave the oven on overnight. Again. It’s just that sometimes he gets so lost in his head, in the studies he reads just before bed that getting ready for bed happens on auto-pilot, and small things like turning the oven off slip through the cracks. Derek’s never got this angry over it before, but that’s probably because he’s never said “yes” when Derek’s sleepily asked him if he remembered to turn it off, not when he actually didn’t.

He answered on auto-pilot. He didn’t mean to lie, but that doesn’t seem to matter that much to Derek as he wears down the living room carpet with his pacing, visibly seething. He tracks him with his eyes. He can’t afford to not see the blow coming.

The blow isn’t coming, he tries to tell himself. It’s not all that convincing when Derek stops mid-pace, turning to look at him dead in the eye.

“We could’ve died, Spencer! Does that mean nothing to you?”

Spencer doesn’t reply. He wants to, he really does, but the words are stuck in his throat, choked by fear and confusion and emotion and regret, God why didn’t I turn off the oven, I should’ve been better, it’s all my fault—

“Do you seriously not have anything to say?”

Spencer stares. He has so much to say. All of it is trapped in his throat, tangled in a mess of please don’t leave me and please god don’t hit me.

“You know, I can’t deal with this right now,” Derek mutters, throwing his hands up in the air, “this is unbelievable.” Spencer watches as he shrugs a coat over his shoulders, pulls on his shoes, pauses only to grab his wallet and keys, and walks out the door without looking back.

The door slams behind him and Spencer jumps at the loud noise, jolting out of his fear-ridden stupor, wincing as he’s forced out of his head and thrust back into reality. It’s only ten past ten in the morning; a nice, sunny Saturday in late Spring, and maybe in a different universe, Spencer and Derek are packing a wicker basket with a picnic, heading off to their favourite park to feed each other strawberries and enjoy jam-filled sandwiches.

In this universe, though, Spencer drags his heavy bones to the bathroom, and peels off his clothes. He feels weighed down, tied to some point of gravity far below his feet as he avoids the mirror at all costs and lets his pajamas lay where they fall instead of gathering them into a ball and throwing them into the hamper like he usually does. He turns the water on and steps under the spray, allowing himself to revel in the warm rivulets of water caressing his cold skin.

Shampoo bottles stand untouched in the caddy to his left. He’s not there to get clean, he’s there to forget and to think all at the same time. Slowly, he sinks to the floor, leaning against the wall as the water cascades down his front, but not before he turns the heat up. It’s a small comfort: the water just on the right side of too hot running down his face and his torso and his legs, pooling at his feet momentarily before sliding down the drain, never to be seen by him again.

Today shouldn’t have started like this, and it’s a hard pill to swallow that if he hadn’t left the oven on, it wouldn’t have. Derek would have smiled when Spencer stepped into the kitchen, pulled him into his arms and kissed him gently before making them pancakes while Spencer sat on the counter-top and told him everything running through his head. Derek would listen, enthralled, whether to the sound of Spencer’s voice or the words he’s saying, and he wouldn’t shut him up, not even when they sat down to eat.

They’d finally get ready for the day late in the morning, they’d decide what they would do that day, and they’d make a point to steal as many kisses as they could; making up for the affection lost during long cases.

Spencer knows this because it’s happened so many times before. They may have only been dating for just over six months, but they already live together, having fallen hard and fast; Emily teases them for it, calls them her favourite lesbian couple, and they don’t care because they’re in love.

Despite that, though, Spencer still hasn’t told Derek.

There are nights he lies awake pondering how unfair that is. He’s held Derek as he sobbed over memories of Buford, as he spilled every awful detail of the abuse he endured; he’s comforted him after he’d tried and failed to bottom, falling into a flashback every time, no matter how much he wanted to try it.

But Spencer stays silent. He doesn’t tell him about his dad beating him, or his mom getting confused off her meds and smacking him, shoving him, even punching him that one time. He doesn’t tell him about Matthew, his first real boyfriend, trapping him in an abusive relationship that took him months to get the courage to leave. About how when a third person hurt him, he began to wonder whether it really was his fault. Whether that was the only kind of love Spencer Reid deserved.

He stays silent now, staring at the shower wall. The fear has left him now the threat has too, and a cold type of numbness replaces it, and even once the water runs cold, he doesn’t leave. He traces the same four tiles with his eyes, drawing the same pattern with his gaze over and over again as his thoughts turn to an endless cycle of he’ll leave me, he’ll stay, he’ll hit me, he won’t, until he’s not really sure what he believes.

Derek is a good man, but Spencer knows how he can be. He messes up, he forgets things, he doesn’t read situations right, he doesn’t behave the way people think he should, he doesn’t think like a neuro-typical person does. And a good man can only put up with that for so long.

The proof is in the pudding, after all. Derek has always been understanding of things like this in the past. He’s given him a hug and told him not to worry about it, that mistakes happen, and no one can be expected to remember small things like this all the time. But this morning, he was furious. Spencer’s not sure he’s ever seen him so angry in all his years of knowing him, and it was directed at him. All because of an oven left on.

Eventually, a sound from the upstairs apartment drags him from his head again, and he’s suddenly aware of the cold water, of the way his body is trembling and his fingers are pruning. He pulls himself out of the shower, turning the water off, but he stands in the middle of the bathroom, aimlessly, for a long time. By the time he finally has the sense to wrap a towel around his body, he’s basically dripped dry. His hair is soaking wet and the dripping water is freezing, but he doesn’t have the energy to find a towel for his head, too, so he leaves it.

He walks towards the bedroom and climbs into bed, pulling the fluffy duvet over his damp skin and laying his wet hair on the pillow. It feels awful, being wet and damp under the dry bedding, but he doesn’t have the energy to move, so he stays there, towel still wrapped around his legs, hair still soaking the pillow, and he stares at the wall.

He doesn’t know what time it is, and he doesn’t know when Derek will come back home. If he ever will.

⭐️

Derek slams the door behind him as he storms out of the apartment, rage consuming his every move, his every thought. The force of it rattles the door frame, echoing down the empty corridor, but he can’t find it in him to care as he marches towards the elevator. The buttons are pressed with perhaps a little more aggression than socially acceptable, but the woman already on board takes one look at his face and has the sense to stay quiet.

He gets in his car and steps on the gas, the squeal of his tyres against the floor of the garage as he speeds out satisfying him more than it probably should. His jaw is locked and tight as he drives through the streets of DC, his thoughts going a million miles an hour, quieted only when he turns the radio up loud, a blasting soundtrack to his ferocious getaway.

Adrenaline pumps through his veins as he speeds down the highway, heading out of the city towards Baltimore. He doesn’t have a destination in mind: he’s just driving straight. Straight away from the apartment. Away from Spencer.

It’s after more than an hour of driving that his jaw finally loosens and the anger that had simmered in his blood so fiercely fades into reluctant rationality. He’s somewhere in the middle of Baltimore, and the traffic — the tangled road system he actually has to focus on — drags him from the absent headspace the highway had allowed him to slip into.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and turns off the road he’s on, onto a quieter one. As soon as he’s able to pull over, he does, and he hits the steering wheel angrily. “Fuck!” He leans forward, pulling off his sunglasses and burying his head in his hands. It’s not the same kind of anger he’d felt earlier, no. This time it’s directed purely at himself, fuelled by dismal regret.

Before he can stop it, his brain replays the fight with Spencer over and over, the wall he’d put up to block it out crumbling down as images of his boyfriend flood his mind. He hadn’t registered it in the moment, but looking back, God. There was something on Spencer’s face, something so broken, so scared and he feels nauseous at the realisation that he put that there.

Over something as fucking stupid as an oven.

Truthfully, he wasn’t really angry at Spencer. Waking up to see the oven left on again, even after Spencer promised he’d turned it off, was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.

He’d fought with both his mom and Penelope yesterday, and he went to bed feeling like an utter failure, made even worse when Spencer had declined to join him, deciding instead to keep reading the series of papers he’d started earlier that evening. He woke up in a foul mood, and not even the sight of his peacefully sleeping boyfriend could make him feel better.

It’s his own fault. He should have communicated with Spencer: he should’ve told him about letting his mom down and saying the worst thing he possibly could have in his conversation with Penelope, but he didn’t. He silently stewed, and felt irrationally angry that Spencer wasn’t reading his mind. He knows for an absolute fact that if he’d asked Spencer to join him in bed last night, he would’ve dropped his studies immediately, and cuddled him until he felt better.

But he didn’t. And then he’d screamed at Spencer, in a way he never has before, over something he simply forgot to do. Derek swore to himself that he would never shout at or put Spencer down for his neurodivergent traits. Not in the way he’s seen so many people — regrettably, far too many of them on their own team — do before.

He’s always been understanding in the past, kissed Spencer’s hair and promised that it wasn’t a big deal, and he has always meant it. Because as dramatic as he’d been this morning, leaving the oven on wasn’t really the end of the world. He remembers ranting about the electricity bill, about how they were going to afford the house they were going to buy if he kept this up, about lying to him — even though he knew that was clearly an auto-pilot thing — about how dangerous it was. It’s a fan oven. They were never really in any danger.

What a god-awful way to let off the steam he’d built up and chosen not to let go.

As if he’s not already feeling shitty enough, though, his mind won’t stop circling back to the fear on Spencer’s face. The way he shouted back, but instead crammed himself into the corner of the sofa, never taking his eyes off him as he paced angrily back and forth.

He feels sick.

He digs his phone from the pocket in his sweatpants. He’s still in the clothes he sleepily pulled on in the dark this morning, and he hadn’t thought to bring his phone out with him, but luckily he’d picked it up off the kitchen counter that morning.

He clicks on Spencer’s name, listens to it ringing out as he desperately begs him to pick up. “Come on, baby, please,” he whispers, ignoring the tears burning behind his eyes. “Pick up, please.” He tries three more times before throwing it angrily on the seat next to him, allowing one more second of feeling the blind panic and the fury at himself before forcing himself to calm down.

Reaching over to his phone with one hand to turn the ringer up, he turns the ignition on and pulls back onto the road, heading back towards DC.

The traffic infuriates him, cursing as it takes thirty minutes to get back on the highway, but finally he’s back on the open road. It takes everything in him not to speed past the other cars, knowing that getting pulled over would only slow him down in the long run. He doesn’t turn the radio on. He just replays the fight again and again, each time remembering something new: something he said or something Spencer did.

He doesn’t wipe the tears away as they fall, lets them slide uncomfortably down his neck, under his collar, lets them drip into his lap, lets his nose run. It’s the only punishment he can afford himself right now.

Finally, finally, he pulls into their apartment building’s garage, finding their spot and parking roughly, abandoning the car as quickly as possible in favour of sprinting towards the elevator. He curses at the slow moving carriage, but it eventually spits him out on his floor, and he’s walking down the very corridor he stormed down just a few hours prior.

He pushes open the door to their apartment, closing it behind him softly. Suddenly, the nausea swimming in his gut isn’t just borne from regret, now fuelled by nerves and dreaded anticipation.

“Spence?” he calls softly.

He doesn’t know what to expect: he doesn’t know whether Spencer will be sad or angry, whether he’ll be screaming or crying. The kitchen and living room are empty, and the bathroom door is wide open, so he ventures into their bedroom.

Whatever he was expecting, it isn’t this.

Spencer’s tucked up in bed, duvet pulled up to his neck, facing away from the door. He doesn’t move so Derek thinks he might be sleeping, but when he circles the bed to check, he finds his eyes wide open, staring vacantly at a fixed point on the wall. They don’t flicker or blink or move when he steps into his field of vision, and Derek’s heart sinks, panic beginning to grip his chest.

“Spencer? Baby?”

When he still doesn’t move, Derek crawls onto the bed, and the movement or the sound or something must finally catch his attention, because all of a sudden his eyes are widening — in shock, surprise, fear, Derek doesn’t know — and he’s shifting under the covers.

“You’re back,” he says, and it’s so uneasy that Derek wants to cry.

“Yeah, baby, I’m back,” he says gently, “and I’m so sorry about earlier, I—”

He cuts himself off, because when he reaches to tangle his fingers in Spencer’s damp hair, he flinches. His hand freezes, but his stomach twists, because this is the confirmation he was both expecting and dreading. This is the confirmation of everything he prayed he had wrong, everything he wished he’d misinterpreted the whole drive home.

“Spence,” he whispers brokenly, withdrawing his hand, “I would never— never do… I’d never hurt you, God, I—”

A choked sob cuts him off this time, and another follows when he sees a tear sliding down Spencer’s face. A previously blank, emotionless canvas, his face is now full of sadness, tinged with the fear and guilt Derek hates himself for even suggesting was warranted in the first place.

“Derek,” he says softly, and his voice is so mangled with emotions he couldn’t even begin to decipher, it breaks his heart a little. He doesn’t say anything more though, eyes sliding shut instead as tears continue to stream down his face.

“What do you need, baby?” he asks, because it’s the only thing he can think to say. “Anything, I— anything you need, you can have, Spence, I’d give you the world, you know that.”

Spencer’s quiet for a long time, and Derek sits there on the bed anxiously awaiting a response while trying to summon all the patience he doesn’t have as he stares at Spencer’s crying face.

“A hug,” he decides eventually, and Derek almost collapses in relief because, God, he can do that.

He crosses the small space between them, and carefully folds Spencer into a hug, sighing in relief as he melts into Derek’s side, placing his head on his chest and cuddling into him. Their legs tangle together and Derek holds him as gently and as closely as he can, carding his fingers through Spencer’s damp curls while his other hand rests on his waist, his thumb caressing the bare skin there.

He’s still in his towel, he thinks sadly. He didn’t have the energy to properly dry himself before crawling into bed. As if Derek could possibly feel shittier.

They lay like that quietly for a while before Spencer finally speaks. Derek wishes he hadn’t. The words “I’m sorry”, uttered so brokenly, so miserably, have no business leaving Spencer’s mouth.

“Baby, you have nothing to apologise for,” he says fiercely. “This is all on me. I’m sorry. Sorrier than I’ve ever been, Spencer, because this is completely my fault. I wasn’t actually angry at you, that’s the first thing you need to know, and I know that makes what I did so shitty, because you hadn’t even done anything wrong, but I was so pent up and frustrated with myself and I didn’t communicate that with you and— fuck, I’m doing such a bad job of explaining, I just. I need you to know, Spencer, that I’m not angry, okay? And I’m so sorry for losing it like I did, that never should have happened.”

He pauses and takes a breath in, burying his face in Spencer’s hair as he holds him even tighter, trying to keep his grip as gentle as possible.

“I never told you,” Spencer whispers after a couple beats pass.

Derek’s heart seizes tightly and he swallows. Prepares himself. “Never told me what, sweetheart?”

“My dad, he… he wasn’t a good man and he… you know, he hurt me a lot. And then my mom, when he left and she stopped taking her meds completely, she’d get so confused,” Spencer admits, voice so quiet as he murmurs into Derek’s chest that he has to strain to hear him. “She didn’t mean to, but she’d… And then my last boyfriend, he—”

He cuts himself off as a heaving sob that seems to come out of nowhere strangles his words and it’s all Derek can do to hold him tightly as Spencer cries, whispering every reassurance he can think of through his own tears. It shouldn’t be like this, he thinks. I shouldn’t know this just because of an argument we had; just because I lost control. Spencer should’ve been able to tell me on his own terms, in his own time.

He tries to cry as silently as possible, but it’s not easy when the grief of knowing the pain Spencer’s suffered in his life is weighing heavy on his chest, and the acidic taste of guilt abounds.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into Spencer’s hair. “I’m so sorry, baby.” He’s sorry for so many things he’s not sure he could list them all out, neatly and coherently, if he tried.

Spencer fists his hands in the soft cotton of Derek’s t-shirt. “I’m sorry I never told you.”

Derek balks at the guilt in his tone, as if he actually believes he has anything to apologise for. “Baby, you could’ve waited until we were old and grey to tell me and I wouldn’t be mad, okay? Trauma like this… it comes out in it’s own way in it’s own time. I’m not sure how or when I would’ve told you about Buford if everyone hadn’t found out the way they did. And if I’d waited to tell you, you wouldn’t be mad at me, would you?”

Spencer shakes his head.

“I’m so sorry that I triggered you the way I did, Spencer,” Derek says seriously, gently twirling a loose curl around his fingers. “It was inexcusable, and it was a problem of my own making. I know you didn’t mean to leave the oven on and I know you were operating on auto-pilot when you told me you turned it off last night, and nothing I said was true. I was mad about stuff that happened yesterday and I failed to communicate that. It’s all on me. Nothing about this is your fault, you hear me?”

“Really?”

The way Spencer cranes his neck to look up at him, the trusting innocence in his eyes both breaking and warming Derek’s heart. “Really.”

“I want to tell you, Der, it’s just—” He sighs. “I’ve never talked about it with anyone, and it’s hard. I don’t… I don’t know where to start.”

“We have all the time in the world for you to tell me, baby. You can tell me everything all at once, or drop tiny pieces of information when you feel like it, or never tell me anything else ever again, and any of that is perfectly okay. I just need you to know that what happened this morning will never happen again, okay? I promise you.”

Spencer shifts, moving from his position curled around Derek to prop himself up with one arm, facing his boyfriend properly. “Thank you,” he says earnestly, before leaning down to kiss him. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, baby. More than anything.” He kisses him again before moving the duvet and making to get up. “Now, how about I order us some pizza for lunch and we spend the afternoon in bed. You can read or we can watch some documentaries or a movie, whatever you want.”

A small smile crosses Spencer’s face, and nothing’s ever felt more like a win.

“I think that sounds like a plan.”

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @moreidtrash @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @enbyspencer @im-autistic @thataveragenerd @anxious-enby

[fayeimara]

Meant To Be Series || One For Every Billion

1. Operation: Meet Shiratorizawa

*Both written and SMAU parts this epsiode*

You hear the familiar sound as you open the door and look inside the gym. The Shiratorizawa campus is definitely impressive but nothing feels more familiar than walking into a strange gym filled with mostly strangers. Back home or a world away, volleyball is the same, perfect sport.

"Y/nnnnnn!"

You're smiling wide before you even lock eyes with your favourite redhead. "Tendou!"

Your greeting is muffled in a bear hug to beat all bear hugs and you can't help but laugh as you wrap your arms around your cousin's best friend.

"I am glad you could make it." Toshi is standing behind Tendou with a small smile and you pull away to give him a hug too.

"Let us introduce you to coach first, and then you can meet the others."

"Sounds good!"

The three of you walk over to the side where a small elderly man is scowling at the players on the court and when Toshi introduces you, you follow what you know of polite customs here and bow at the waist in greeting, "Thank you for having me!"

"I hear you play as a setter for a premier league."

Yeah, Tendou and Toshi weren't lying about his intimidating demeanor, but you're unfazed. You've dealt with some like him and they're good leaders in their own way.

"Yes, sir."

"You're quite short for your age."

You blink. You're pretty sure you're the average height for girls your age. You're definitely on or above average in your league even though you're not as tall as your hitters. Okay, cheeky, it is.

"Yes, sir. I hear that sometimes from opponents before we play. Not so much after a game, however, if at all." Tendou starts chuckling only to muffle it when the coach's sharp gaze locks onto him for a moment before focusing back on the court.

"Is that so." He finally looks over, making eye contact and drawing out the silence for a few quiet seconds. "Well, height isn't critical for a setter, though it's an asset."

"Yes, sir." You have to bite the inside of your cheek so you don't push it. You're aware of his status and tenure, after all. To someone like him, kids your age with a little cheeky boldness and confidence can be surprising and impressive. Too much is disrespectful and you're still a guest here at the end of the day.

He looks back at the team and you do startle a bit when he barks out, "Did I say it was time for a break?!"

Looking over to the court, you finally realize the practice game has all but stopped. You meet several wide eyed, disbelieving stares before they jolt back into motion.

Tendou and Toshi leave you there to rejoin their teammates with a grimace and a nod, respectively. You just smile blandly and take a seat next to their coach.

-x-x-x-

By the time Coach Washijo blows the whistle for the end of their practice, you've got a clipboard on your lap with notes and the begrudging respect of the ornery man beside you. Yes, you know your shit when it comes to volleyball and you didn't hesitate to use your knowledge to impress. You have a feeling he'll be taking a look at the link you wrote down to your national games at some point given the observations you pointed out. Mission: Success.

As the boys are grabbing water and towels and gathering around, Coach locks eyes with you once again to study you as you smile politely back at him, waiting for what he's chewing over. "You can visit again."

And then he stands to address his team before heading over to his office and leave them to clean up.

You look away from his retreating figure and, oh my, that's a lot of eyes on you. Why do athletes look so pretty? You smile wider and stand to introduce yourself, "Hello. I'm L/n, Y/n, Toshi's cousin. Nice to meet you all and thank you for having me here for this practice."

You bow and they start stuttering and speaking over each other while Tendou laughs, knowing you're also teasing a little. They're clearly flustered so it takes the edge of your own nerves and your smile relaxes into something a little easier.

"Wow.. that was.. different. I've never seen anyone interact with Coach like that." You look over to an ash haired boy, oh hello- "I'm Eita Semi. Nice to meet you.”

He sounds a little brusque.. hmm. He's their setter and knowing Toshi and Tendou...

"Semi-san, your sets... they really show your love for volleyball."

His mouth drops, hopefully in surprise, but you also hope you didn't say anything too forward? You know it's pretty different here and some things like feelings aren't used as carelessly in conversation but.. he's blushing. Oh no.

You try to correct, just in case, "I mean, I hope it's not presumptuous or inappropriate to say! I'm lucky to call myself a setter too, so from one to another, I just wanted to say I can see how much fun you have and it's inspiring!"

Okay, now Tendou is literally dying of laughter, bent over grabbing his stomach but you can see his face and yeah, he literally looks like the emoji that's crying with laughter. And- what?! Even Toshi is smiling a little, he knows that under your calm and playful exterior there's an impulsive, reckless storm.

Semi raises his hand up to the back of his head and you swear he's full on blushing. Okay, yeah, no, you're good. It might sound cruel but when you see people more embarrassed or flustered than you, usually, you find your own equilibrium steadies in response.

"That's- uh- thanks! I hear you're incredible. I mean, as a setter. I- Thanks."

The rest of the team has been looking on and slowly amusement and excitement is like a wave that slides across their features. One of his teammates hits Semi across the back, knocking him forward a bit, while teasing him about compliments from a pretty girl. But you politely pretend not to hear and focus on some of the other members as they start asking you about yourself and answering your return questions about each of them.

I think we can call Operation: Meet Shiratorizawa a success, you think, happily satisfied with the people your dear cousin has to call his teammates and friends.

Prev | Next

Masterlist

Behind The Scenes!

-Toshi is not directly related to Y/n but they might as well be brother and sister for how close they are

-He’s actually her (bear with me, please) dad’s brother’s sister-in-law’s son : Her uncle’s wife is an Ushijima - so her aunt by marriage is sister to Toshi’s mom.. I’m sorry, am I making any sense?

-Their mutual cousins will appear in the story, you’ve already seen their profiles in Family Matters: Kazuya, Akira, and Akari

-Tendou has known Y/n as long as he’s known Toshi and treats her like a cross between best friend and older brother, which means he’s sometimes mean, always teasing, and he will smack, cut, bury a bitch if they hurt her

A/N: Two things.. 1) I absolutely love Ushijima, I find he's seriously underrated. Although I guess I’m guilty here too because he’s Y/n’s family instead of a love interest 😔 If anyone ever wants to see a Toshi fic, let me know, I’ll do my best to work on his characterization 2) CHARACTERIZATION... guys, I’ve wondered this with all the HQ characters I’ve incorporated so far, but.. I don’t know if I’m hitting anywhere close to what they might actually be like in the scenarios I put them in?? So I apologize in advance, and profusely, for all the HQ characters that turn out not quite.. the way they should lol. The writing kinda sorta maybe gets away from me all the time 😅

I lied, there's a third.. I know I've made several posts on days that I've posted so far, and while I do hope to be consistent with a steady couple posts a week (particularly concerning this fic, or rather, not including other fics and stuff I might decide to post as I get more comfortable here), I may not always be able to deliver the same amount of content as I a) am still slowly getting a handle on the social media aspect and how to smoothly deliver it; and b) catch up to where I'm at in the story. So I just want you all to know, I really appreciate your patience with me <3

[drethanramslay]

A funny thing called Fate: Chapter 1

Pairing: Bryce X MC (Aisha Khurrana)

Word count: 2.6K words

Series Masterlist 

Masterlist

Warning: None really, just some cursing

Author's note: Hello!! I am back with the first chapter of "A funny thing called Fate" and this time this is in Bryce's POV

Like I said last time, there would be time jumps so you will be seeing both- 16 year old Bryce and present day Bryce

Just a word of caution, 16 year old Bryce (according to me) is your typical bad boy who is a jerk and upholds his reputation and prestige as the most important priorities

I decided to take part in @choicesseptemberchallenge20​ the prompt being- LOST

Also decided to take part in @choicesweeklychallenge​ the prompt being "I just... don't know. Honestly."

Both of them will be in bold

TERMS THAT YOU NEED TO KNOW:

-> kanilehua: Motherfucker (I literally googled curse words in Hawaiian language so please forgive me if they are wrong 🤧)

-> okole: Butt/ Ass

-> budhiya: old woman in Hindi

Forgive me if I make any mistakes

10 years ago- Bryce's POV

"Aloha!!" Bryce's cheerful voice ran clear through the hallways as he approached his teammates, instantly capturing the attention of the people.

"Hey Bryce, my man." Jason, his best friend stepped forward and did a complicated handshake with him before patting his back.

"How was the summer?" Kai, his other best friend spoke up as he leaned against the lockers, his dark hair falling on his eyes.

"You know the usual. Practice and stuff. My parents did take us to Australia. The waves there are sweet." Bryce whistled lowly, remembering how he spent numerous days surfing at sea.

"What a lucky bastard. Do you think your parents would adopt me?" Jason asked causing Kai to chuckle.

At this point, they would want anyone but me as their son. A dark look passed on his face but he hid it behind the over cheerful and happy go lucky mask.

"So, what's up with you guys?!" He asked, smoothly changing the topic.

Jason began. "Well I for one, had a fun summer hanging out at the beach, enjoying the sun-"

"-having flings left, right, centre." Kai completed the sentence, snickering.

"As if you weren't the one who fooled around more. You broke so many hearts, Kai!!" Jason rolled his eyes.

"But I finally settled down, unlike your unsettled ass." Kai exclaimed.

"50 bucks you will break up with him in ten days." Kai narrowed his green eyes and smacked the back of Jason’s head. 

"Wow, seems like I have some catching up to do." Bryce smirked.

Kai turned towards Bryce, suddenly serious. "Glad you brought it up. We have a proposition for you."

Bryce incredulously raised his eyebrow.

"Your two o'clock. Short brunette with glasses. Don't be too obvious."

Bryce ran his hand through his long hair and his amber eyes fell on the girl.

He leaned against the locker near Jason.

"What's her deal?"

"Apparently, she joined the school last year and has been on the low. Keeps to herself, certified nerd, teacher's pet and super uptight."

Bryce eyed her and he recognized that she was in his chemistry class last year.

Aisha Khurrana.

"Wait... That's Aisha. She was in my chemistry class last year. Introverted and quiet."

Jason did a double-take. "Wait really? Well, that makes it easier for us."

"Good. I will make y'all talk to her-"

Kai stopped him midway. "Woah, woah, woah. We don't want to interact with her. You are the one doing this."

"Will one of you kanilehua tell me what the fuck is going on?" Bryce asked, getting annoyed.

"After the legendary prank Ano pulled last year, it's time we step up. So while you were tanning your okole in Australia, Jason and I were brainstorming to come up with a better idea."

Jason continued. "So we decided that you could get her fall in love with you before the finals and boom! We could pull the prank on prom."

Bryce's eyed widened. "Woah, don't you think that's extreme?"

Kai rolled his eyes. "Please, Ano humiliated a teacher and exposed that he was having an affair with a junior. I don't think it's that extreme."

"What is this prank you have planned on prom?"

Jason waved his hand. "We haven't worked out the details but we have the entire year to do that. You on the other hand... Are running out of time."

Bryce's eyebrows furrowed. "And why can't either of you take this up?"

"Because Kai here is surprisingly getting cosy with Kaeo the jock from Sunset High while I am on the principal's radar for the shit I did last year. I am this close to getting expelled." Jason enunciated his point by touching his pointer finger and thumb.

"Jas... you're touching your fingers."

"Exactly."  

"So will you take one for the team?”

Bryce sighed. "I just... don't know. Honestly." 

“Bro, this could literally make or break our popularity bro. You don't want to be the laughing stock of the school, do you?" They asked with puppy eyes.

The peer pressure and the need to uphold his reputation as the golden boy made him raise his hands in defeat. His eyes glanced at the losers down the hall, who people were blatantly ignoring.

Definitely don't want to fall in that category.

"Fine. I will do it. But you will owe me."

"That's our boy." The boys whooped as they clapped his back.

Bryce's eyes wandered to his new target, finding her brown eyes staring right back at him. The flecks of hazel shone with curiosity but her face was impassive as if she didn't want to let anyone in.

Well, this is going to be an interesting year, Aisha Khurrana. Bryce thought to himself.

PRESENT

When Bryce woke up this morning, he didn't think his day would turn out this way.

Who would have fucking thought that the one girl you could never get over shows up at the hospital you are a surgical intern at?

Not me.

He was looking forward to this fresh start. A new city where no one knew who he was and he hoped it stayed that way. To hone his craft and become one of the best surgeons in the country. Anything to get rid of the stains on his name.

After Aisha left at the beginning of Junior year of high school, things were hard. Not that anyone was going to believe him but he actually loved her and no matter how many people he hooked up with, no matter how much he drank himself to oblivion, there was just no getting over her.

He often wondered- no believed that he had lost his one shot at love.

You only get one great love and of course, I had to blow it up, and for what? Popularity? Reputation? That already went down the drain because of my beloved dad.

When he finally got his head in the game and things were bearable, the scandal happened towards the end of the Senior year. Sure, he could hide face during the summers, lounging in his gaudy compound. But he could hear the occasional shouts and protests out of the gates of his home, reminding him that he couldn't escape the truth.

To distract himself from his dad going to trial, his mom selling out to the feds and his baby sister crying from the stress, he dove right into his studies, hoping to score well in his SATs so that he could get away from Maui.

But there was still one year of high school left, and that was fucking awful. He was relentlessly bullied at every turn of the corridor, got the stink eye from the teachers and people jumped away from him as if he was a social pariah.

Technically, I was.  

Though his parents were very tight-lipped about the details of the case, it wasn't that hard to get to know more from the internet. And the fact that the people in his school always made it a point to remind him.

Aisha's dad was one of the people who worked for the company that got screwed over by his dad.

Bryce had given up after all these years that he will ever find her again. He often wondered what would he do if he were to meet her again. The apologies he would say and the monologue on how ‘he was never the same after she left’ had been practised over and over again.

But right there she was, half-naked in front of him, completely at the loss of words. His eyes wandered, making sure if it was the same girl from tenth grade. There was a nose piercing and he saw a little ink near a hip.

"Aisha?" He repeated, completely shocked, his jaw dropped. Never in his entire life has he felt the loss of words.

They stared into each other's eyes, chocolate brown eyes meeting his amber ones, completely lost.

But that moment didn't last for long because Jackie shutting the locker made them realize that this was indeed reality.

Aisha managed to snap out of her reverie. "Oh my fucking god, I don't have time for this shit." She rapidly threw on her fresh sets of scrubs and slammed her locker before making a move.

Bryce stepped in her path, blocking her. "What are you doing here?!"

Her eyes snapped up to meet his, the familiar fire and hatred flooding in those brown orbs. "Well, I could ask you the same thing Mr. I-will-become-a-lawyer. Now out of my way, I'm getting late for the orientation." Though she was short (5 feet 3 inches to be precise), she still managed to slam her shoulder against his chest and walk away.

"Oh My God!!" Jackie's voice resounded after a few quiet moments.

"Put a cap on it nose wipe." He muttered as he rubbed the area where Aisha slammed against him.

"I didn't say anything."

"Yeah but that expression says it all." He rolled his eyes as put his stethoscope into his breast pocket.

"But, for real. Who is she?" Jackie asked, inquisitiveness laced in her voice.

Bryce flicked her nose. "I found your nose in my business, why don't you take it right out?"

"Ugh. Fine. Keep your secrets. C'mon, let us get to the orientation before it gets over."

"Yap. Right behind you."  The duo headed towards the main atrium and made their way towards the front so that they could hear the hospital chief. The rest of the interns were already gathered in front of the stairs upon which an impressive, statuesque woman stood and spoke.

That is Dr Harper Emery!! Bryce thought to himself, as the very thought of standing in the very same room as his inspiration made him giddy. He turned to talk but the excitement instantly vanished because thanks to his amazing luck, he ended up standing right next to Aisha.

The universe, what games are you playing against me? Bryce let out a sigh which caught Aisha's attention. She just gave an annoying glance and stared up, as if to ask why was this happening to her.

Both of them turned away from each other and focused on what Dr Emery was saying. "... because as of today, you are no longer students, You are doctors."

Aisha turned towards Jackie and whispered. "Psst. Who is that?"

Jackie whipped her head towards Aisha's short build. "I don't know if you are joking or are serious."

Aisha's ears getting red was the only confirmation Jackie needed. Her jaw dropped and she was physically incapacitated, unable to speak before she finally managed to string together words.

"Seriously? Did you learn medicine in the woods or something?"

Aisha's eyes narrowed and Bryce just knew that if he didn't intervene Aisha would absolutely roast Jackie and her lineage.

So, in a low voice, he spoke up. "That's Harper Emery, the hospital's new chief." A smile made his way on his face as he continued to talk about her. "She's a total badass! World-famous head of neurosurgery before she got promoted."

He turned towards Jackie, smirking. "Guess she's just a scalpel jockey too, huh?"

Giving a Cheshire grin she responded. "She's the only scalpel jockey who deserves rights."

Aisha gave a stiff nod before turning back towards the Chief.

Someone is definitely a ray of sunshine. Bryce thought to himself. His conscience promptly snarked. Bold of you to assume that this isn't your fault.

Brain... Stop. as he shook his head to shake off the guilt that slowly swirled in his chest.

"More will be demanded of you that you've ever experienced. Some of you will buckle under the pressure. Some of you will quit. But some... some of you will thrive."

"Damn... She is so inspiring... I feel like I can do anything." Aisha whispered, her brown eyes sparkling with admiration.

"Well then, can I inspire you to pipe down? I'm trying to listen."

"Can I inspire you to get your ears checked, budhiya?" Jackie looked offended but you could see the glint of amusement and respect in her eyes.

"Girls, can this fight wait until after the speech?" Bryce muttered.

"This is not fighting. This is us bonding scalpel jockey. Get on the same page." Jackie whispered causing Aisha to smirk.

"I give up. But please for the love of everything good can we keep it on the low." He shot a pleading look and they managed to shut up.

"You've been entrusted with a sacred duty: the care and wellbeing of every man, woman and child who enters this hospital. Are you ready?"

The interns promptly burst into applause and they look around, sharing excited smiles with their new colleagues.

Harper Emery raised her hand, to silence the applause. "You'll be introduced to your senior residents tomorrow but for now, you'll be partnering up for your first patients. Your assignments are posted on the board. Good luck, doctors!!"

Bryce swaggered up to his board and searched for his name and found out that he was paired with a Samantha.

Wait for a second... that name sounds fami-

"You?" He swirled around towards the feminine sound and as soon as his eyes landed on her, the memories hit him.

Him running his hands through her hair whilst they kissed passionately against the door of her apartment. Her running her hands down his abs and pulling him by the loops of his belt. Both of them lost in the sensation of each other and Bryce still had the scratch marks on his back to remind him of the amazing night they had the previous day.

"Sam? I didn't know you worked here!!"

"Well fate is a funny thing, isn't it? So apparently we are partners?"

"Yap and we need to take our cases from the residents and be on our way. Are you ready?" Bryce asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

"I was born ready baby." Sam winked as she started pushing her way through the throng of interns and Bryce followed suit.

When they finally were free, Jackie showed up next to him followed by Aisha and another girl who had a striking resemblance to Chief Emery.

"See you later meathead."

"Try not to miss me too much." He winked before glancing towards Aisha. Their eyes met and she immediately looked the other way, chatting with her partner.

"It's a beautiful day to save lives. Let's have some fun, shall we?" Sam asked her eyes twinkling which just made Bryce smile.

-------------------------------------------------------------

It was going good so far. He had been allotted two cases that day. One with a routine appendectomy and the second one being a benign tumour removal from the right lung. With a cool, calm collected mind, the two of them diagnosed the patients, raising eyebrows.

"Dr Lahela, what is the treatment plan?" Dr Tanaka, the head of cardiovascular surgery asked.

"Well we are administering her with tumour shrinking drugs like bromocriptine so that we could decrease the size and then after a couple of days we will take her for surgery."

Dr Tanaka gave a nod of appreciation. Sam turned and held the young patient's hand. "Miss, you are in good hands and if you have any more questions you can always ask for us."

"Thank you so much, Dr Anderson."

They stepped out of the room and Bryce shut the door behind them.

"Keep an eye on her and do checks every four hours. Good job." Dr Tanaka turned on his heels and only when he was out of earshot Sam fist-bumped Bryce.

"The surgical society is back at it again."

"God Sam that was awful." He groaned as he pulled his pen out to sign the charts.

"Well, that just means I need to keep thinking of names for the dynamic duo. See you later byeee."

He shook his head and gave the charts to the nurses' station before whistling down the confusing corridors of Edenbrook when suddenly he heard a thud sound from the nearby supply closet.

Must be a doctor who is not having a good day.

He stopped before the door, contemplating whether he should enter or leave but his instinct to help overpowered and he cracked open the door to see Aisha leaning heavily against the racks, her back towards him. Her shoulders were shaking and he could hear her heavy breathing.

He was about to leave unnoticed when Aisha’s voice wafted over to him. “get in or get out. Don’t hold it open.” She glanced towards the door and Bryce knew that he could kiss his unnoticed exit goodbye.

Oh boy. 

Oh? so we have a new character 👀 And um that really wasn't the reunion Bryce was looking forward to lol

And now the supply closet yikes yikes yikes okay now i will shut up heheheh

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[seoafin]

oo yeah, the stark differences in eng fics on ao3 and those that i’ve read in websites like pixiv/ weibo/ lofter/ typesetters is a high-context asian subtle/implicit intimacy vs low-context western loud/explicit intimacy (1)

tho ,, i think the setting (character + environment + time) and the prompt (au? canon? romance? slice of life? epic?) play into it. i think the differences that exist between portrayals of intimacy by east asian authors and by western authors largely stem from cultural philosophy, which could make some things jarring to those unfamiliar with either

tbh i'm the type of person who, when reading lit abt supposedly asian characters, would appreciate the story more if it was also true to the characters' culture, and so i'd also like to see them experience and understand love the same way asians experience and understand love. but that's just me (i know there are diaspora who like to see other things), and that's also for a concept that's more for peaceful romance/character-centric settings. it’d be a different case if the story is plot-driven, or historical, or apocalyptic

i personally prefer the nuance of intimacy in pieces by east asians bc that's what i like to see and what i'm familiar with. but either way, i don't mind the differences exist. it just means that there's a variety to all of our experiences. as long as it's written into the narrative in an organic manner, it will still feel like a love i can appreciate, whether romantic or platonic or anything in between.

the whiplash was intense when i opened a fic bc i was curious or bored (or both rly) and then boom, untagged daddy kink. SHSHS it makes me giggle sumtimes, since he’s a jpnese character, when it comes to gojou, bc personally i just can't imagine him calling anyone any kind of petname unless it means to fuck with them,,, like, for eg, in stsg fic i just can't vibe with gojou calling suguru anything but his name, but that's just me and largely the way i interpret their characters, and it's just nice to know that all the authors of jp/cn/kr fic i've read before feel the same way more or less ,, but that's it HSJJSJS if someone else decides they want gojou calling suguru this or that, then that's like, alright. that's what they want to write and see, yk, and there's nothing wrong with that, i'll just swerve respectfully lmao

also for pdas,, i think it definitely depends on the age of the couple and the setting

like, if they're a campus couple, pda is pretty common. handholding, picking each other up from class, study dates in the library/courtyard/cafe, going to drinking parties together, that sort of thing.

the most common petname i've heard cn campus couples use is "baobao/baobei" (寶寶/寶貝), which means precious/baby/darling. for jp couples, tbrh i've never heard anything ,, my friends and cousins don't use petnames either

honestly,,, if u're cn/jp and u're dating someone ur age or younger, u'd probs call them by their given name or a nickname with an affectionate prefix/suffix (小，阿，兒 etc or the norm ちゃん, くん, さん, 先輩/ 輩先 suffix) and ig u could call that a petname. if u're dating someone older than u, then u'd call them (insert name)-san or senpai/jie/ge if u and they want, and that would show how close u are. some ppl date and call each other by their full names, too, and even with honourifics. and some ppl use just their partner's given names.

for kr,, idk much but i think it’s usually 이,야,아 etc and noona/oppa/unni/hyung ????

for older couples, like married couples or people who are working, pda tends to lean towards petnames. "sweetheart", "honey", "wife/husband", that sort of thing. if they're parents, they'd probably call each other "dad", "mum" (I NEVER HEARD MY OWN PARENTS NAME LEAVING THEIR LIPS WHEN THEY ADDRESS THE OTHER)

but if its pda like,, making out in public, i don't think it's very common. i've never seen it shhsjsjs (arm holding can be rewarded with a stink eye from the conservatives elderly (mostly), from where i came from)

in fic, it's abt the same, which means it would depend on the age/setting/couple's preference with the addition of the author's preference which just,,, uh shows , ig

but then again,, pls cmiiw if anyone else knows more

altho i’m a “respect is earned” type of person ,, when it comes to (conservative) elders, it will just fly out of the window,,, the repercussions....just no 🥰 some of them are so fucking petty and are hellbent to teach u a lesson, its actually embarassing

back when the yo mama jokes were still popular and 24/7 circulating in the internet,, me and some friends were 😃😃 like yall can say this and get away with it? when daylight arrive after i crack this kind of joke in front of my relatives, my mom is done scheduling for my cremation date

even if i dont intend it to mean disrespect in some convos,, the damage is done and my parents would straight up be like : “wtf did u just say? try repeating it once more and lets see if u can still sleep under a roof today.” either that or they’ll smack me before saying it ,, whichever could come first depending on their mood 🥴

my relatives wont ever missed if i ever forgot to address them when we meet or during a phonecall by a simple “uncle/ aunt/ grandfather/ grandmother” (usually my grandfather is the one so uptight abt it 💀) and it will end up into a short lecture abt “young kids these days..../ u havent forgot to eat yet u forgot what respect is?/ ur parents are fine ppl but what happen to u”

cue my mother glaring at me or giving the stink eye like @/&/&2@22 most of the times i’m distracted by sth and just spaced out while organising it in my head b4 it could get out of hand ,,, that and the titles i’ve used for each relative is different and i’m afraid to mixed it up bc again...stink eye ,,, like my father’s younger/ older brother and younger/ older sister and cousins + its another different handful of titles when it comes to my mother’s family 😔 - 🐱 (2)

yes!!!! there’s a lot of reasons why i enjoy stsg fics and it’s because gojo and geto are always treated like people in stsg fics.....i’ve found that in a lot of reader insert fics you could replace gojo and geto with the male lead of those mafia boss stories on wattpad and it wouldn’t make a difference LMAO gojo and geto are often caricatures of themselves and it’s just something i’m personally not interested in.

also....i feel like there’s so much intimacy in how someone calls/says your name that just using pet names 24/7 gives it this superficial sense that i’m not really a fan of but then again, in fwb stories i totally understand.

another thing, I really feel like culture DOES play into it. obviously as asian people ourselves who come from a collectivist culture, our idea of love is different from the western concept of love. i feel like this especially comes into play when we see reader insert stories where the MC is super op and strong just so they can “match” gojo and gojo doesn’t need to worry about them even though it’s not even needed!! in asian cultures it’s not a burden to take care of people. it’s love. and i feel like western people don’t quite grasp that bc it’s such an individualist culture (this is a not nuanced at all / a generalization but u get the point)

yeah full on pda in fics always gets me because in japan???? lmao no honey!!! although gojo would definitely do it, not every character would LOL

gojo would pet names as a joke aka ironically, but i just don’t see him doing it seriously unless it's dear or smt

my mom is so big on respect. she always gets into fights abt with my brother and it’s a generational difference tbh but i digress, it’s not like it’s bad to be polite to your elders, but I do think koreans can take it too far to the point where it’s detrimental!!

[achlysmiseria]

Chapter 1: =My First Day at a New School=

Being in a relationship with a serial killer kinda sucks. But before that, maybe I should start by introducing myself or something. I don’t know. There’s nothing special about me. My name is Perseus Alexander Moore. I’m an eighteen-year-old guy in his twelfth year and I’m distinctive in most groups but I’m not famous or rich or smart. I’m just those guys you normally see in school except I don’t exactly go as ‘normal’ since my hair is styled in an afro which makes it easy to distinguish in a group of people. This is the start of how I made the greatest mistake of my life.

Today I will be going to a new school. It had to be arranged since I moved into my older brother's place. If you’re wondering why, a big incident took place, which I have to live with my whole life but we’ll talk about that later. After changing into clothes for the day, I crept out of my room and went downstairs and the first thing I came upon was the sweet smell of pancakes and bacon filling my nose. My nose scrunched up which made me stop but not because of the smell, but because of the person right in front of me.

Eric Ulysses Moore, my big brother. He’s a successful hematologist oncologist here in this small city of Asheville, North Carolina. He’s got the same curly brown locks as mine except it’s not long or styled informally. We both look somewhat alike but since he’s blessed with our dad’s genes, who is a tall man, he has much darker skin than me and I was told he was taller than me when he was my age.

While my brother cooked breakfast and I’m standing at the kitchen door, I felt like I should just tiptoe out of there but he turned and saw me. “Good morning, Perseus,” he greeted with a smile. “Had a good night’s sleep?”

“Yeah,” I blandly replied. “I also have to go. I might be running late.”

“School doesn’t start at seven-thirty. Eat something first.”

“I’m not hungry,” I said but of course, he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. He served a plate and pointed his eyes to the vacant chair, gesturing I should sit down.

“Look,” my voice was leveled. “I don’t want to deal with you right now. I have to get going.”

“Perseus,” he called back. I ignored him and ran out the door. I brought out my earphones and plugged them in my ears, momentarily escaping from this hell called reality. I grabbed my skateboard and I skated through the busy streets.

Normally, my mom would kill me if I did this. My mind being preoccupied with the music playing, words popping up in my head for lyrics, guitar chords I could possibly use for a song I’m writing while I pass busy streets, small comments in my head about the places I pass will definitely make her want my head.

The trip would have been really quick if I hadn't had to go through so many huge groups of people hurrying to their destinations and most of them are too oblivious to notice what’s around them.

Once I reached the gates of the school, I was somehow —what’s the appropriate word— disappointed.

Right in front of me could have been a grand building but the gate alone is covered in graffiti and the paint is tearing off. The building itself looks like it’s about to collapse, given a few years or even less. You might even think it’s haunted. Students filed into the entrance and it gave me second thoughts. What if I just skipped school today? I thought it would be nice. I could just go home and go back to sleep but then, I have to deal with Eric. And to think of the possible scenarios when I enter these gates: probably new friends, or more jerks who are looking for trouble. I swallowed the anxiousness and the excitement growing in me and I walked in.

Entering the building, I felt like I was a kitten that trespassed a lions’ den. In the hallway, everybody turned their head towards me and I tried my best to stay passive.

Luckily, when I got enrolled here, they gave me my schedule and the room numbers so I didn’t have to ask around. I reached the room for my first class, which is Conservatory of Music. Then I noticed there was this note taped on the glass window of the door. It said: Class will be in the Music Room. I raised an eyebrow. Music Room, I thought. I looked down at the paper I had in my hand and scanned it. It didn’t have any directions for the room. I buried the annoyance that’s building up in me and looked around just in case no one could see how stupid I look and with my luck, I found three guys walking in my direction. The guy on the right had copper-red hair, freckles across his cheeks and nose, and a mischievous grin on his face and is probably one of the people I will never trust my life with when handling matches or sharp objects. The one on the middle had emo/scene slick black hair and it was long on one side so it hid his face. He looked reserved at first glance since he had his head lowered and even if his friend on the right had his arm locked on his neck, he didn’t complain. The one on the left took me aback. I was looking at a much younger clone of Brandon Routh when he played Clark Kent or Superman. He’s this tall guy with glasses, shiny black hair swept to the side, and a jacket. His facial features are almost perfect and I don’t think his face is familiar to acne or a single pimple. The guy on the right saw me. His hazel-green eyes shone and his grin widened. “Hey,” he waved. “You must be new.”

“I am,” I had to keep a straight face. The redhead kept smiling but when he faced the note on the door, he frowned. “Damn,” he snapped his fingers. He faced his friend and yelled to them, “Upstairs, guys. Prof switched rooms.”

“I told you he would,” said the guy with the glasses. The ginger raised his hands in defeat but still cracked a smirk. “At least we found this guy,” he gestured his hands to me. “If we didn’t think to check this room, he would be late than we already were.”

“Yeah, yeah shut up, Michael.” The other two faced me and studied me from head to toe. Superman said, “You were lucky. This campus is huge.”

“That’s what she said,” the guy named Michael snorted, which earned him a smack on the back of the head, “You’re so mean, Xavier.”

“And you’re being an idiot,” replied Xavier, who had a more Asian look than everybody else I've seen.

I felt inept. I’m standing in the middle of a playful conversation of strangers I just met and they didn’t really mind me there. Or how late we were.

“Hey,” I spoke up. “Aren’t we supposed to get to class?” The three of them stared at each other then realized it with a start. Some of them cursed and then we ran to the Music Room.

Fortunately, we reached class before the professor arrived. The place was huge and I think we were more than fifty students here. We were going to be seated on the floor and our bags were piled onto each other at the back. But what’s enticing are the instruments in front of us. I was tempted to grab a guitar and run but the professor finally entered the room. Before I could look around for a place to sit, someone already grabbed my hand and pulled me down.

“Sorry,” said Clark Kent. “I didn’t get to introduce myself. I’m Nicholas Taylor but call me Nick.”

“I’m Perseus Moore,” we held out each other’s hand and shook it. Behind Nick, Michael’s head popped out and he beamed. “I’m Michael Johnathan Carter. Most people call me Michael or Mike. You pick. I don’t care.” We shook hands and I faced their other friend.

“I’m Xavier Hernandez,” he said politely. “It’s nice to meet you, Perseus.”

“Yeah,” I tried to smile. They seem nice, I thought to myself. We started talking in our small circle and then Nick asked, “Do you play any instruments?”

“I play guitar,” I replied. Michael’s grin got even wider if that was possible and then he scooted near me. “What songs can you play?”

“Erm,” I moved a bit farther from him but I was saved when the professor got our attention. He’s a guy that looked like he was supposed to go to a Rock concert but got lost and ended up in a classroom full of teenagers. Instead of the usual teachers’ uniform, he wore this black band shirt of Korn, had a few piercings on his lips and eyebrow, plus tattoos all over his arms. “Good morning class,” he greeted. I thought we would respond with the habitual bland greeting but the place roared with excitement. Everyone was just yelling at the top of their lungs so the teacher had to silence us. “After a summer break, you all are still very loud.”

“We love you, Sir Ramirez!” Michael yelled and it just ignited another round of cheers. Again, we were silenced but I’m surprised one finger from the teacher made everyone quiet.

“I am also glad to see you all again. Most of you have moved up which is great,” Sir Ramirez congratulated us. “I was also informed that we have a new student joining us. Where is he?”

I just sat there, not planning to do anything for anyone to catch my attention but Michael grabbed my arm and raised it for me. Quickly, I yanked it away and glared at him. “Thank you, Michael. Now, please come up front.” The first thing I thought was, What is this? Grade school? But I obeyed and walked over to his side. “Introduce yourself.”

“Hi,” I started, I could feel my palms starting to sweat. “I’m Perseus Moore.”

“Do you play any instruments, Perseus, or are you just here to learn a thing or two?”

“I can play.”

“Awesome,” Sir Ramirez clapped his hands. Everyone started muttering to themselves and I didn’t like it at first until the prof asked, “What instrument do you play?”

“Guitar, sir.”

He smiled and walked over to the corner where the pile of goodies are and picked up a maroon Gibson SG then handed it over. My eyes widened at the guitar and I looked up at him for confirmation. “Give us a show, Perseus.” He signaled me to start and with barely any practice for the past month, I played Thunderstruck by AC/DC. The students went wild and I think everyone on this floor, and possibly the one under and the one above us, could hear them singing the song.

Sir Ramirez raised his hand to stop me in the middle of the song and I did. Everyone had this look on their faces which I can’t comprehend and my heart was pounding against my ribs. “So,” the professor starts. There wasn’t that much emotion shown on his face and I wasn’t comfortable with that. “I can’t tell you how much I’m impressed.”

“You are?” I blinked. “I mean, thank you, sir.”

“Of course I am. It’s been a while since I’ve seen someone with this much grit and how much the whole class enjoyed it.” Then everyone started screaming like their favorite basketball team won. Makes me wonder how their voices haven’t cracked yet. I would never last that long. When they settled, Sir Ramirez clapped his hands and everyone joined him. With an awkward smile and my pulse beating in my throat, I bowed. Nick and the others cheered and they were joined by everyone else. When I got back to my seat, class started and at that point, I happily thought that this was going so well so far. Boy, was I wrong.

After three classes, it was finally our Lunch Break. I hated the other classes since the teachers after Conservatory were snobby, nosy, and irritating as hell. They lose their cool easily. I’m only grateful that Nick, Michael, and Xavier will be in the same classes as me since they’re the only people I know.

While we were walking to the cafeteria, Nick said, “You were great back there.”

“Thanks,” I tried to sound more confident than I am.

“Wanna join our band?” Michael smiled. “We’re missing a lead guitarist. And you don’t seem to be part of anything yet.”

“You’re recruiting me?”

“Of course,” he placed his hand on my shoulder. “We’ve been talking about it. You in? Please say you are.”

“Stop that, Michael,” Xavier spoke up. “You know we have to talk to Morpheus first about this.”

“Who?” I turned to him.

“He’s our band leader and frontman,” Nick replied. “The guy’s awesome and super chill. He would love to meet you. But we need to know if you want to join us as well or otherwise, he’d think that we forced you to.” Then I heard Michael comment, “What is this? A cult?” Xavier flicked his fingers in the middle of his friend’s forehead and it made a sound, probably shaking his skull. Watching them alone, being whoever they are, saying whatever they want and their closeness to each other makes me think about their offer. I faced Nick who had an expectant look on his face. “I’m in.”

We reached the school’s outdoor covered court. It’s after passing the cafeteria. I’m telling you now that this is the only place that’s pleasant in the whole school. Instead of seeing trash littered everywhere, the court was clean and there were trees aligned on the side of it. Under one of the trees, there was this Blond holding an acoustic guitar. Michael ran to him and gave him a tackle-hug.

“What the hell, Michael?” He exclaimed as the others just laughed out loud. They sat up again and the redhead tugged on the guy’s sleeve. “We found a lead guitarist, Morph.”

“Hi?” I waved. The Morpheus guy studied me with his sky blue eyes and frowned a bit. He stood up and I realized he’s way taller than Nick which only made me anxious about my height. Gee, thanks. He circled me, like a lion studying its helpless prey. Morpheus turned to his bandmates and asked why I should be in the band. They explained it to him with enthusiasm while I just stood there not even getting why he’s asking them instead of me.

“So,” the tall blond turned to me. “I see that you got yourself some fans now.” Looking over his shoulder, Nick and Michael had huge grins on their faces, excitedly waving their hands while Xavier is also smiling but not like the other two. My eyes went back to Morpheus and I shrugged. “I never meant to. They just asked me to play.”

“Can you perform in front of something bigger than a bunch of students in one room?”

I could’ve answered him with an eager ‘Yes’ but in the pit of my stomach, my anxiety starts poking me. Morpheus patiently waited for my answer while I thought, A bigger crowd? That would be awesome but if I’m not good enough… Then what? I mentally slapped myself in the face. I looked up to him and said, “Even if it doesn’t take me anywhere, I can.”

Morpheus gave that a thought which lasted longer than I wanted to. My friends had their fingers crossed and I quietly hoped I would get accepted. Morpheus’ lips slowly curled into a smile and happily said, “You’re in.” Then they started clapping their hands. Michael locked his arm around my neck and yelled, “Finally! Someone decent enough to play for our band.” That comment got him a smack on the head and he just laughed it off. Xavier ruffled my curly hair and spread his arms out. “Welcome aboard Erebos.”

“Erebos?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, yeah,” Nick said. “A friend named the band. She said that it’s the name of the primordial darkness in Greek mythology or something like that.”

Just then, their faces lightened up. I followed wherever they were looking at and found something I wasn’t expecting. Walking towards us was a girl with straight hair as dark as midnight, autumn tanned skin and she had a gray jacket wrapped around her waist since the school uniform for girls had short skirts. Michael ran over to her and held his hand out for a high-five. “Hey, Babycakes!”

Babycakes?

She scowled and pointed a finger at him. “How many times do I have to tell you to never call me that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Michael tries to imitate her British accent. “Did I touch a nerve?”

“You always do.” She crossed her arms and her eyes found me. I flinched, probably because I’ve been staring at her for too long, looking stupid, and got caught. Nick saved me though. He placed a hand on my shoulder and told the girl, “I’d like to introduce you to our new lead guitarist, Perseus Moore!”

“Perseus?” She raised an eyebrow. She studied me from head to toe and as I watched her, I noticed her eyes were gray. They remind me of fierce storm clouds or bones when reduced to ash. My heart started thundering against my chest when her eyes met my golden brown ones. She then looked up at my hair and asked, “Is that natural or are you just looking for attention?”

“What?”

“Your hair. And your eyes? You’re not wearing contacts, are you?”

“I could say the same to you,” I commented. A shadow of irritation passed over her face and then I realized my mistake. Morpheus cleared his throat and got her attention. “You’re not going to tear his face off, are you, Kass?” Xavier spoke up. She faced him and cracked a smirk, leaving me wanting to melt into a puddle for some reason. “I don’t have a reason to,” she faced me and held out her hand. “I’m Kassandra Cyrillus. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

I shook her hand. “I could say the same thing.”

“Not when you really know what you’re talking to,” I heard her mutter. That took me aback. What is she talking about? I faced Nick who looked somewhat nervous when she said that and when I looked back at Kassandra, she still had the same expression except I recognized the look on her face. Like, she had the face of someone who got away with murder which is stupid because that’s impossible. Or was it?

“Now, now, Kassandra,” Michael interrupted my train of thought. “Stop scaring away the new guy.” She gave him a look which made him raise his hands in defeat and then she faced me. “You all have the same subjects later on, right?”

“Yeah,” we replied in unison. She didn’t give any reaction but handed Morph a bag. “I’ll see you all later then,” she looks over her shoulder a bit and walks away. When she was finally out of our sight, I turned to my bandmates who were looking at the bag. When they opened it, it was filled with snacks and a big pack of potato chips. They all had an evil grin on their faces and they closed the bag again. “It’s cool how she could smuggle some junk food here in school.”

“She must’ve paid the school guard to let her in,” Nick joked. My eyebrows arched. The image of Kassandra burned in the back of my mind and I can’t help notice how she looked so innocently malevolent. Two words I never thought would fit together. Morpheus saw how confused I was and placed his hand on my shoulder. “You look lost.”

“I don’t understand how things go around here,” I said with genuine honesty. “Is it just me or is Kassandra plotting something evil?” They looked at each other which is concerning for me like it’s a tough subject they don’t want to tackle. “Did I say something wrong?”

Nick snaked his arm around my shoulder. “Nah, dude. It’s just that, Kassandra had this reputation here at school, so it tends to make her judge and mistrust people she meets at first glance. Be a little patient with her. She’s actually a great person to be with,” he smiled. With that, the school bell rings for our upcoming classes. We walked to our classroom and went on with our day.

Finally, school was about to end. I just had to end this last class: Literature. My bandmates were left behind since they said they needed to talk to our Math teacher. When I reached the door of the classroom, I expected a bunch of students sticking their noses in books but instead, I found most of my classmates were off their seats, just being chaotic as usual.

“You’ll get used to it,” said a familiar voice behind me. When I turned around, I found Kassandra. She had a black backpack slung on one shoulder and the strap had a metal pin of a badly drawn smiley face with X’s for eyes and it had its tongue stuck out, the logo of the Grunge band Nirvana. “Nice pin,” I complimented. “Somehow matches your personality.”

“Don’t flatter me, Perseus,” her voice laced with bitter sarcasm. “And if you want small talk, I suggest we go inside and sit down. Unless you want to block the door, I’m not joining you.”

I stepped aside and let her in first and muttered, “Sorry.” Following her to the back of the classroom, I sat on the vacant chair beside her. There were more vacant seats other than this but I just felt like I needed to sit next to somebody I at least know if I get called. Now and then, I would steal glances of her just to see her doodling on her notebook. Well, I just think she’s doodling. The first thing that caught my attention was that she’s writing in Greek? Second thing I noticed were the symbols Aδης. What do they mean? Like I know. I wanted to ask her but everyone started to make a commotion when Michael entered the room.

Kassandra let out a soft laugh when she saw her friend being flirty with the girls who were head over heels for him. “Always a tosser,” she muttered and closed her notebook. “Then these girls would fall for every banter. Can you believe that?”

I realized she was talking to me so I answered, “Er, yeah. They’re being a little too extra.”

“Michael’s always extra,” she shrugs. I then noticed her lips were curled up into a small smile and I kind of felt good about that. She looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing,” I looked in the other direction. When they were seated, the professor entered the room. He’s a pudgy man with a scowl on his face and has more hair on his chin than on his head. I could hear a lot of the students around us snickering and then they all burst out laughing when the teacher sat on his seat. Confused, he tries standing up and then realizes the problem. “You insufferable brats!” He yelled at us. When he tried to walk out of his desk, everyone was laughing except for me and Kassandra since the chair was stuck to the man’s rear-end. I mean, it’s literally glued to his butt. Honestly, it’s an old trick in the book but I think getting someone to do it right in front of you makes it funny. He started yelling things I don’t think would get him a promotion, or probably let him keep his job. Nonetheless, we continued class while the professor was seated, and ever so often, you will hear giggles when he tries standing up.

“Now,” he pats a stack of papers on his desk. “This will be your homework for two weeks. Read it carefully and I don’t want anyone submitting anything stupid, understood?”

Everyone jeered and groaned. Kassandra and I stayed silent then I glanced at her just to find her reading a book under her desk. As the papers were being distributed, the professor said, “You all will be partnered” —everyone cheered— “by the person beside you.” The excitement died and it just made him smile smugly. The school bell rang for dismissal and everyone quickly raced to the door.

“Wait,” I looked at my seatmate. “Who am I partnered with?” We stared at each other. It seemed like time suddenly stopped for some reason. Our eyes locked and I don’t know how, but I could see this shadow behind her gray orbs. What could it be? A weird gut feeling tells me that this person in front of me was someone… someone who you shouldn’t get on their bad side or you’re screwed. Kassandra smiled and answered, “I suppose you’re stuck with me, Phrixus.”

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary -Chapter 24

Warnings: mentions of depression, death, grief, sad Tyler, a tad of smut

Tagging: @thunderintheshadows  (although you read this already over on Ao3 lol), @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud

The meeting is scheduled for one pm. Held in one of the hotel's smaller conference rooms; Nik hosting from Colorado through a secure satellite feed arranged by the FBI. At Esme's insistence, she'd sought out Mark's help, who in turn, had agreed to lend his assistance as long as it was kept strictly 'off the books'.  Neither Tyler or Yaz made aware; a need to know situation that Nik was certain they didn't need to know. Not at this particular time, anyway. She'd also managed to convince the hotel management that the team -she'd spun a story about them providing private security for some of Ireland's elite- needed a meeting room for 'strategic purposes', and a hefty money transfer had been sent to them to ensure both their cooperation and their silence.

Yaz arrives last; arms and hands loaded down with bags of food and drink for lunch, along with his laptop and iPad.

“You went back to that coffee shop, didn't you,”  Tyler grins, recognizing the logo emblazoned on the front of one of the paper bags. “Was she there? Did you see her? Did you talk to her?”

Esme sits alongside of him, their thighs touching under the table. The need for closeness...both physically and emotional...is overwhelming. On both their parts. As if something or someone was just waiting in the shadows to snatch them away from one another.   Bot are nervous. Anxious. All of the missing information, the complexities of the case, the uneasiness that comes with being in an unfamiliar place and not knowing exactly who your enemy is. All mixing together to create a brutal and punishing force. All jobs come with their share of danger. With the unexpected twists and turns that jumped out at you without a moments notice. Always having to think three steps ahead of you; always wanting to ahead of your foes so you could take them by surprised, not vice versa. But this was different. The trouble had started before they ever set foot on Ireland soil.  Danger could be lurking around every corner; in every dark alleyway or doorway.  

She is feeling it more than the others. It's been almost six years since she'd last been on a job.  She had thought that that part of her life was behind her. More than content to give up the almost nomadic lifestyle in favour or a quieter existence. Quite enjoying the routine and the familiarity that comes with being a stay at home mother and a housewife. It sounds old fashioned; the solace found in taking care of a house, in cooking dinners and doing laundry and other various chores, in keeping a husband happy and satisfied, in spending time with her children and loving on them as much as humanely possible. But after years of never forming true bonds with anyone and never having a stable place to live while running from her demons,  being a spouse and a parent turned out to be exactly what she'd needed.  She'd needed normal. Or at least their version of normal.

At the mention of a girl, she glances away from her laptop, fingers hovering over the keys; in the midst of sending an instant message to Ovi. Both he and Chloe were in constant contact. Always letting her know what is going on at home. Whether it be sharing stories about what the kids were up to, asking questions about things like favourite foods and things that would provide comfort when the little ones were emotional over the realization that both their mom and dad are gone,  letting her know that things felt safe and secure and there had been no suspicious activity or threats. At least not yet.

“She was,” the grin that spreads across Yaz' face is enormous as he arranges the food and beverages in the middle of the table, then busies himself with setting up the tech needed to hold the meeting. They're running on Nik time, and her time -in her eyes- is extremely valuable and she expects others to recognize and abide by it.  “Her name is Anna,” he says. “Anna O'Brian.”

“Oh how adorably Irish,” Esme quips. “Is she legal? Did you ask to see her driver's licences this time?”

Tyler gives an amused smirk.

“You're getting just as bad as he is,” Yaz complains, nodding in the other man's direction. “He's rubbing of on you.”

“She likes when I rub one off on her,” Tyler says, and then winces when his wife grabs a hold of what little excess fat he has above his hip and pinches as hard as she can.

“What?” he asks innocently.  And when she huffs in disgusts and turns her attention back to the laptop, he playfully nudges her in the ribs with his elbow.

“You're disgusting,” she replies. “I can't believe you even said that.”

Yet at the same time, she can recognize the remarkable transformation -one of many- that he's gone through over the past five and a half years.  He's no longer on guard twenty four seven; he's able to relax and actually live in the moment. No longer constantly haunted by the horrible decisions of the past.  Comfortable enough in his own skin...his new skin...to not only let others in, but to be like everyone else.  Sarcastic,  humorous, finally content in his own skin.  Yet when it's time for the seriousness of a situation to kick in, he will be back to all business.

He'll be the old Tyler again. A transformation so quick and subtle that its as if the new one never even existed.

“I read it's supposed to be good for the skin,” he reasons. “It's probably why you look as young as you do. Like a natural moisturizer.”

“You've got serious issues,” she huffs, and then yelps when he grabs a hold of the back of her knee, squeezing lightly and the proceeding to tickle her mercilessly. “Stop it!” she orders in between the laughing and the hiccups that soon make an appearance. “What is wrong with you? Tyler! For fuck sakes! You're going to make me pee myself!”

“You too make me sick,” Yaz declares, when Tyler finally relents; smiling and winking at her, running a hand over her hair and then pressing a kiss to her temple.  “It's gross. The way you two are. All happy and in love and shit. It's been almost six years. Shouldn't you hate each other by now? Isn't this when things go south and you just stay together for the kids?”

“Oh there's days,” Esme says. “Where he is walking a very thin line. Believe me. He's too scared of me to push things too far.”

Tyler nods in agreement. She holds all the power.  It doesn't matter that he's a foot taller or ninety pounds heavier.  He knows when to just shut up and tow the line.  “Then she gets over it when I hate fuck her,” he grins. “She's  relatively harmless after that.”

She sighs in exasperation. “So who's this girl, Yaz?” she asks, as she returns to composing her message to Ovi.  “Waitress? Bartender? Stripper?”

“Speaking of strippers,” Yaz grins. “Tyler...remember that red head in Russia. The one that kept rubbing her massive...”  he gestures to his own chest, mimicking breasts. “...in your face.”

“Oh my god I do not need to hear this!” Esme makes a dramatic gagging noise and places her hands over her ears. “I want to remain oblivious to what he was up to before I met him. Those days didn't exist! I want to pretend they never happened!”

“She had a massive girl boner for your man. She did these things for free. She probably would have given him money for letting her.”

“Yaz...” her eyes are narrow as she glares at him. “...I will punch you in the throat, I swear to God.”

“You remind me of her,” he continues. “With the new hair. Only your boobs are real.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Tyler frowns, and smacks the younger man upside the head as he gets up to grab food. “Don't talk about my wife's body like that. Don't cross that line, mate. Don't make things weird.”

“My knight in shining armour,” Esme grins.

“Slightly tarnished and dented armour,” Yaz suggests to her “You like that one? Give me that one. Are you impressed by me?”

“I'll both accept it and allow it,” she nods. “I'm going to write that one down so when I get down to writing my book entitled 'Shit Yaz Says', I can include it. So who is she? This girl? Don't leave me out of the loop.”

“A waitress. At a place we went to the other day. She gave me her phone number and I wanted to go in and apologize for not calling her yet. I even brought her flowers.”

“Nicely done,” Tyler nods his approval.  “You've been taking notes.”

“We're going for drinks tonight,” Yaz excitedly bounces up and down on his heels, like a little kid that just found out the Tooth Fairy now gives out twenties for a molar.

“Drinks?” Esme arches an eyebrow. “So that's what kids call it these days. Just call it what Tyler does. Studying.”

“For the record, I did not start that shit,” he places two plates of food on the table and slides one towards her. It's weird in a way; how you get to know someone so well that you know exactly what they'll eat, and be appreciative of even the small gesture of getting it for them.  “I did not call it studying. Ovi said he and Chloe were studying.  I just took it from there.”

“Tyler is a huge fan of studying,” she continues, briefly pressing her shoulder into his when he sits down, giving him a smile of appreciation.  “He likes to study alone.”

“That is not what I said. I said if I have to study alone, I will. Not that I enjoy it. Just that it needs to be done sometimes. What are you supposed to do when your study partner gets a lot of headaches or doesn't feel well?”

“Excuse you, but when was the last time you heard any of those excuses from me? Months. Declan was still a tiny little thing.”

“You two are both fucked,” Yaz declares, and then adjusts the blinds covering the window; so there isn't too much sun streaming into the room and preventing them from seeing the smart board that Nik will appear on.  “T minus six minutes. You guys ready for this shit? It's going to get weird, isn't it. Even more weird than it already is.”

“I have been eating at the buffet of strange all day,” Esme declares, then fills him on everything that has taken place since she'd opened up her eyes first thing in the morning. The strangers outside the hotel room; the nervous shuffling of feet and harsh whispers.  How'd she attempted to glimpse a glimpse of them but had been just a few seconds too late. About the housekeeper insisting that no one was staying in the room that Esme had seen...with her own two eyes...the couple emerge from.

“Hmmm...” Yaz says in response to that piece of information, then looks at Tyler from across the table. Pointed stares. Tyler's eyebrows shooting up. So much communicated between them without even needing to use words.

She launches into what she knows about the Buckman family; no hands on knowledge, but history with colleagues that had gone toe to toe with them and had somehow managed to survive.

“They're not a family you want to fuck with,” she says, as she sips from a bottle of water.  “This is Amir Asif on steroids. I'm not even joking. If you thought Dhaka went to shit, this has the chance to be a hundred times worse. If this blows up in our faces, it's going to be damn near impossible to get those kids out. Not when it's just one person doing the heavy lifting.”

“You think we need more help?” Yaz asks, and when she shrugs, he addresses Tyler.  “You think you need more help? You're the one actually going in.  How are you feeling about the chances? Or being able to get both of them? Two kids plus yourself? Do you think you can get all three of you out?”

“I'm fine with it,” Tyler replies. “I'll be okay. I can handle it.”

“Realistically what's the chances?” Yaz inquires. “That you can successfully get two kids out at once and go up against anyone coming at you? It isn't going to be as easy as just walking in there and grabbing them and taking off. There's going to be resistance. Big time. You think you can handle two kids plus all the other shit being thrown at you?”

“I think you need to let me worry about all of that and let me do my job.  How many extractions have I done? Tons.  Yet you think I'm some kind of rookie just walking in there blind? I know what I'm doing. I can handle getting two kids out.”

“And yourself?” Esme speaks up, not looking away from her laptop.

“We're not talking about that right now. This is about the kids.”

“Your life is just as important,” she gently argues. “Whether you think it is or not.”

“The job is a success if the kids get out,” he counters. “It doesn't matter if I do or not.”

“It matters to me. And to your kids.”

“Maybe we need an extra set of hands,” Yaz suggests. “Someone watching your back.”

“I don't need someone going in with me. What I need is people leaving me alone to do my job. I work better alone. I'll get the kids out. No matter what it takes. That's all that matters. Getting to them and getting the fuck out of there. I've done this before, remember? Have either of you gone in and done the bloody stuff?”

“That's not the point,” Esme says. “How many extractions have you done where you've had two people to get out?”

“None,” he admits.

“Exactly,” she huffs. “What harm does having back up do?”

“It's messy enough with just one person. I don't need someone all up in my ass questioning everything I do. I work alone. I've always worked alone.  So just let me go in and do what I have to do. I'll have it under control. You need to trust me.”

“Two kids, two people,” Yaz reasons. “Would make it a hell of a lot easier.”

“Neither of you are listening to what I'm saying. I run this part of things. I call the shots. Not you. And not you,” he gives Esme's thigh a squeeze under the table. “You have to just back off and let me do what I do.  You want things to run smooth? Or as smooth as they can? Then keep other people out of the way. That's all I ask. Please...” he presses a kiss to her temple. “...trust me. Just trust me.”

“Fine,” she relents.  “But I don't like this. I don't like any of this. Two kids plus yourself? While trying to out run and out gun whoever is going to try and stop you? There's no Saju busting his ass to clear a path. There's no Nik and the team providing tactical support. There's no  G to act as a sniper like he did in Dhaka.”

“You were a sniper,” Yaz points out. “In the corps.”

“I was not a sniper. I merely acted as one from time to time.”

“But you still did it,” Tyler says. “When you had to.”

“Oh hell no. You two are not putting this on me. I came here to help with intel. That's it. That is as far as I'm going. You two are not dragging me down into some fucked up rabbit hole because one of you is too stubborn to ask for outside help and the other just puts his tail between his legs and agrees to whatever the first  one says. No. I'm not doing this. I won't do it.”

“You've got the experience,” Yaz continues. “And I trust you. Tyler trusts you.  You can handle it. And we don't have to drag more people into this. Your intel stuff will be down by then, right? So why not stick around and help out? Better than bringing in outsiders, don't you think?”

“And you agree with this?” Esme address her husband. “You think this is a good idea? Getting me even more involved in this than I already am?”

“I trust you,” he says.  “If there's anyone I want having my back...”

“This is fucked!” she cries. “You're both insane. What in the actual hell is wrong with the two of you? Where did all the common sense go? Both of you used to have tons of it and now it's just gone. It's disappeared.  How does any of this make sense? How do I go from being the intel person to suddenly being tactical back up? Explain to me where this all went wrong.”

“You don't have to actually go in,” Tyler explains. “Just be there. Like G was in Dhaka when I went to see Ovi's captors.”

“Just be there in case you're needed,” Yaz adds. “You know this is going to go to shit. They're going to have a lot of fire power. And Tyler can't get those two kids and himself out of there and be one hundred percent effective when engaging. It's impossible. Not with two little kids tagging along. Just hang out. Find a nice high perch somewhere. Wait and see if you're needed.”

“This is crazy,” she runs her hands over her face. “This is just all so crazy. What are the chances of any of us actually surviving this?”

“Did you make it out of Dhaka?” Tyler inquires. “Did I not find a way to keep you alive? To get you across the bridge?”

“That's not the same thing and you know it.”

“I'll get you out of this too, ” he says. “I promise.”

****

“Talk to me,” Nik says in trademark fashion.  “Who has information?”

“Esme knows the Buckmans. ” Yaz speaks up, and his sister arches a quizzical -yet extremely interested-  eyebrow.

“I don't know them. I know of them. There's a huge difference.”

“What do you know?” Nik asks.

“I only what I've heard through the grapevine. In the circles that I travelled in. Word gets around. Especially about families like that. The old man was killed ten years ago. Everyone suspected it was a hit, but no one every really knew for sure. It was all hearsay. Water cooler chatter.  And I saw his file. His rap sheet was enormous. There were charges on there that should have had him rotting away in jail. Yet he always found a way out of and around things.”

“Are they dangerous?”

“They were back then. When the old guy was running things. I've been out of this for five years, Nik. I'm not exactly up on all the gossip. They were powerful. Probably the most powerful crime family out there. But they were quiet about it. Always flying under the radar. But people knew about them and people feared them and that was enough. They had access to all kinds of shit. Money can buy you a lot of toys. Extremely dangerous and scary ones. So if the daughter really is running the show...”

“She has the same kind of resources and money available to her,” Nik concludes.  

“And the pictures,” Esme taps her fingernails on one hand against the tabletop as she speaks, using the other hand to bring up the photos of Heather Buckman on the laptop. “The ones someone gave to Tyler. The ones with the kids are very real. There's no doubt about that. You can't fake that kind of terror in someone's eyes. Especially kids. But the wife? Those are not real, Nik. It gets more and more obvious every time I look at them. First of all, it makes no sense to keep mother and kids in two different spots. That's two separate places you have to constantly man and monitor. Second, she's only been given a minor working over.  Nothing like the kids. The hair was a nice touch, but it was too much.  Too much effort into trying to make something look real.”

“Any way of figuring out where she or the kids are being held?”

“Based just on those pictures? No. There's thousands of places that could look just what it's in the photos. Without actually narrowing down locations, it's impossible. What's the chances of going into McMann's house?”

“I can get you into anywhere you feel the need to be,” Nik confidently declares. “What are you thinking?”

“I'm not even sure to be honest. But maybe there's something there that can give us some sort of clue. It's a long shot. But...”

“I'll arrange it and contact you. In the meantime, I have a couple places for you to check out. I want you go in and ask some questions. Tell them that you're a journalist from over the pond that received an anonymous tip that there's trouble brewing between the IRA and a New Zealand crime family. That should be enough to loosen some lips. Charm them. Get them to warm up to you. Flirt with them if you have to. Pull out all the stops. I don't care how far you have to go to get information. Just get it. I'm sending the address to your SAT. It's a bar in downtown Belfast. Owned by an active IRA member.”

“She's not going alone.” Tyler speaks up. “No way. Not into something like that.”

“You tag along but you stay outside,” Nik says. “I don't want you in there. They'll recognize you when they see you and we can't have the two of you being connected in any way.  Stay across the street. Or somewhere they won't spot you. But no more than a hundred yards away. Make sure you're armed. Just in case.”

“She should be armed too,” he suggests.

“They'll make her for sure. We can't take that chance. She goes in alone and does what she needs to do. You stay outside and keep an eye on things. You only go in if things go to shit and you have no other choice. Understand me?”

He nods.

“I have someone coming to meet you. He'll be there between six and nine pm, you're time. He's from Dublin. He's reliable. He's bringing you some more ammo and some weapons. He's on the up and up. You can trust him. Have you talked to McMann? Does he know that you're onto him?”

“I'm meeting with him tomorrow morning,” Tyler says.  “He wants to talk. See where we are at with things. To be honest, I want to fucking strangle him.”

“Well try not to. I know you're pissed. And I understand it. But you should let him know. That you know everything he told you about his New Zealand extraction was a lie. Maybe if you lose it on him it will get him to talk. He knows more than he's letting on. Maybe seeing you pissed will scare some sense into him. Tell him everything. About the pictures. About the threats against your family. Lean on him and lean on him hard. As hard you can without physically hurting him.”

“I vote that Tyler at least gets to throw one punch,” Yaz pipes up. “To the throat. Nice and hard.”

Esme nods in agreement.

“Yaz,” his sister address him now. “I've got someone meeting up with you with some new technology. High tech. Ways that we can all communicate without it being noticeable. Ear wigs, bugs, things like that. Inconspicuous. The old radios won't cut it. Too noticeable. I'm sending you his information and you can reach out to him and arrange something.”

“Where are we at on this Erin girl?” Tyler inquires. “The one that showed up at my room.”

“I've done all the digging I can do,” Nik replies. “There is no Erin Ferguson in Belfast that matches her description. I don't know if Esme would have more luck.”

“I can try,” she offers. “But there's only so much I can do. Without facial recognition software and other high tech shit like that, my hands are pretty well tied. I can see if there's any security footage of her entering or leaving the hotel and maybe I'll get lucky with image search on google. But that's a big 'if', Nik.”

“See what you can do. I'm not expecting miracles.”

“How's things there?” Tyler asks.  

“There's been no sign of anything even remotely suspicious. No threats. Nothing. But I'm going to stay here and keep the detail I have. Ovi and Chloe are handling things. The kids are happy. Calm. Well, as calm as they can be. You know what you're kids are like. Calm doesn't exactly describe them well.  But they're fine. They miss you guys.  I didn't realize how much they look and act just like you, Tyler.  It's kind of unnerving. Scary even. You have some seriously strong genes.”

Esme nods in agreement, and he gives her a wink and a smile and takes her hand under the table.

“We've come up with a plan,” Yaz informs his sister. “When it comes to tactical support. For when it comes time for Tyler to get the kids out. It's going to be hard. Juggling two kids and fighting back. Because you just know the shit is going to hit the fan and they're going to come at him and they're going to come at him hard. With everything they've got.”

“What kind of plan?” Nik asks.

“Esme can do it. She has the experience. She can just find a place to watch and wait from.  If things don't go wrong, then that's all she'll have to do. Watch. If things do blow up...”

“And they will,” Esme speaks up. “Because if Dhaka as bad as it did, this is going to go a hundred times worse. And that's being fatalistic. That's being realistic. These people? They're capable of bad shit. Horribly bad shit. They make Amir Asif seem tame in comparison.  Dhaka was a shit show.  This is going be Dhaka on a massive dose of steroids.”

“But will you do it?” Nik asks.  “Can you do it? Because I think we all understand if you can't.”

Esme sighs, pushes her hair behind her ears.  “I can do it,” she confidently.  “I don't want to do it. But I will.  Only because it's Tyler.”

****

They make love. The drapes drawn across the window; rays of sunlight poking through the small gaps in the fabric. His hands on her hips as she straddles him; guiding every slow, deliberate movement. Sex has always been what they do. A coping mechanism. The most pure yet raw way of experiencing the deepest and most primal form of intimacy.   Driven out of need and desperation; fuelled by worry and stress and the fear that each time may be the last.  So many unknowns lying ahead of them. The future suddenly terrifying unstable.

When she comes undone -nails scrapping painfully down his chest, his name exploding from her lips- he gives her little time to recuperate. One strong arm wrapping around her waist and throwing her down onto her stomach, legs flat against the bed, a knee pushing her tights apart before settling himself between them. Pausing long enough to run the tip of his tongue all the way down the length of her spine; eliciting a whimper from her, her entire body trembling from both the new sensation and the aftermath of her powerful orgasm.  His hands running over her shoulders, fingertips grazing over her ribs and down to her hips, once more gripping them tightly as he pushes into her. The friction intense; the press of her body against the bed, the tightness of those barely spread legs, his hips sinking as far into her as they possibly can. A low, feral growl erupting from within his chest as he bottoms out inside of her.  Dropping his head, longer strands of hair brushing against her bare skin as his teeth nip at her shoulders and the back of her neck. Holding back as he revels in the sensation of being so deep inside of her, until her hand is lifting up and blindly grabbing at his hair; a clear indication for him to continue.  And he captures her hand in hers, holding her arm above her head, pinned to the mattress as he pulls out entirely and then slides back in with such force that it pushes her body up the body and causes her to cry out into the pillow underneath her.

His control is non existent. He'd felt it slipping away inside that conference room.  Everything was going to shit and he knew it.  The disaster was inevitable; looming on the horizon like some dark, threatening cloud that you can't possibly outrun.  Things have already gone so wrong. The worry and the fear are already overwhelming. The stress all consuming. And he is physically channels those emotions; using her body as a way to relieve some of the burden.  Bruising, painful thrusts that have her whimpering and crying out, his name repeatedly tumbling from her parched lips.  Her nails digging into his fingers with enough force to break the top layer of skin, her other hand grasping at the sheets below.  And he kneels above her, free hand sliding between her and the mattress, fingers pushing past her sopping lips to find her clit.  Slowly rubbing at it until the second orgasm hits; tears streaming down her face, his name being screamed loud enough for anyone in the hallway or adjacent rooms to here.  Continuing his ministrations until she's coming a third time; her eyes wide, delirious sounds escaping her. Fucking her until she can't quite possibly can't handle any more; both hands biting into her hips as he pushes his pelvis against her ass  and empties himself inside of her.  Sweat dripping from his brow, the droplets glistening on her bare skin.

Afterwards they rest.  Letting their bodies settle.  Their minds absorb -and fixate- on all of the information they'd be given early.  He lays on back,  a forearm over his eyes, a hand on Esme's hip as she naps on her side, ass tucked against his hip.  He hears her stir; the long, soft sigh that she releases, followed by her quiet, sleepy voice.

“Tyler?”

He switches positions, rolling over onto his side; front pressed tightly against her back. The hand that was on her hip now coming to rest on her shoulder; palm gliding all the way down her arm, fingertips passing over her wrist and down onto the top of her hand, then retreating and sliding back up again, until his hand settles on her ribs.  

“Yeah?” he asks, and presses a kiss to her shoulder.

“Are you okay? You seem...I don't know...different. Distant. Ever since the meeting with Nik.”

“I'm fine,” he assures her. “Just a lot on my mind.”

“Like?”

“Lots of things.  About us.  About you.”

“Bad things or...?”

“I'm just worried,” he admits.

“About?”

“You.”

She brings her arm across her body and places her hand over his, lacing their fingers together.

“I don’t want you going there,” he says.  “To that bar. Alone.”

“You’ll be outside. A hundred feet away.”

“Outside,” he stresses the word.  “You’ll be inside. Alone.”

“I’m only going in there to ask some questions,” she reasons. “See if I can’t lure them in. Get them to talk. Or send me in the direction of people who will. What do you think is going to happen?”

“They’re IRA,” he reminds her. “They’ll be armed. What if they make you?”

“They won’t. I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?”

She sighs, slipping her hand out of his and then rolling over to face him. Their heads sharing the same pillow, the ends of their noses practically touching.

His hand moves to her thigh now, stroking it softly.  

“Remember in the elevator?” she asks. “When that kid was armed and I was freaking out? And you said you weren’t some rookie?”

He nods.

“Well neither am I. This isn’t the first time I’ll be doing this. I spent years going into worse places. Mingling. Being accepted. Getting people to open up to me. I’ve deal with some pretty scary, hard core people and not once did I ever get made. You need to trust me, Tyler.”

“I do trust you. You’re my wife.  I trust you with my kids, don’t I?”

“It’s not the same thing and you know it. I’m not talking about the trust that comes with sharing a life together. Sharing a bed. Sharing children. I’m talking about the trust that comes with the job.”

His brow furrows. “You’re not in the job. You never have been. And I don’t want you to be.”

“Then why am I here?” she challenges.

“Because I need your help.”

“Which means I’m in this. Whether you like it or not. You brought me into this, Tyler. I was more than happy to stay home and take care of a house and give you babies and raise those babies. That is what you wanted. You made that clear as soon as we got married. You wanted a housewife. You wanted someone to give you kids. You wanted a family. You wanted everything your mother was and then some. And I went with it. Because I knew it was what you needed. I knew you needed that normalcy. That if you were going to successfully balance the job and a regular life, that you needed things a certain way at home. And I’ve given you that. Or I’ve tried to, at least.”

“You have. You know you have. And you know how much I love you. How much I love my kids. How much I love our life. And you’re right. I did need all of that. I still do.”

“But I had a life before you. I had a life before all of this. Before marriage and kids.”

“I know.”

“And it bothers you to even think about. You hate thinking about what I was like before you. But this was my life, Tyler. Before you ever existed in it. I lied to people. I conned them. I made them trust me. Then I let other people…people like you…destroy them. And I was good at it. Damn good. Other mercenaries trusted me. So why don’t you?”

He regards her intently, drawing in a long, shaky breath, teeth grazing against his bottom lip. “Because it’s different.”

“How? And I’m not trying to be difficult. I’m genuinely curious. How is it different?”

“Because you weren’t married to any of them. I’m your husband. The father of your kids. They didn’t have any ties to you. I do.  I love you. And I don’t want anything happening to you.”

“You trusted me in Dhaka,” she points out.

“Dhaka was different.”

“How so?”

“Because it fucking was,” his last shred of patience finally snaps, and he hates himself for it.  How he doesn’t have a logical and sound explanation for why he feels the way he does. “Things were different then,” he attempts, and rolls over onto his back, running his hands over his face before sitting up and leaning back against the headboard. “We were different then.”

“We were just fucking then, you mean. Back then, I meant nothing to you. I was just some desperate and lonely girl. A warm body for you to occupy yourself with. It was easier for you that way.  To just let me do what I needed to do because I meant absolutely nothing to you. It wouldn’t have mattered back then if something happened to me.”

He gives a derisive snort and shakes his head, then reaches for a bottle of water on the nightstand. “That’s bullshit and you know it. You meant something. Even then. I don’t know what it was.  I can’t explain what I felt. I just know I felt it. I just know you meant something. Stop tying to fucking psychoanalyze me all the time. I know what I felt. About you. About what was happening. I shouldn’t have to explain it.”

“It was sex, Tyler. There’s nothing wrong with admitting it. That that’s all it was.”

“That’s not all it was.  Maybe it started out that way.  Maybe that’s all I wanted at first.  But it changed, okay? Some time in those five days. I don’t know when or how. Just that it did.  I knew I wanted more from you.  That we could have something fucking amazing if we actually tried.  If we trusted one another enough to try. And we were so close. So fucking close. To getting that. To getting to that boat and never looking back and just seeing where things took us.”

“Do you regret the path we had to take to get to where we are now?”

“I don’t regret anything. Do I sometimes wish things were different? That things didn’t go so wrong in Dhaka? I wish that all the time. That we just got across the bridge and got the fuck out of there. But we didn’t.   Things happened the way they did. We can’t go back and change that. Do I wish we could have had more time to get to know each other? Before we found out we were having a baby and decided to get married? Yeah. Sometimes I do wish that. Only because I think it would have been better for you.”

“Tyler, I have you. I have our kids. How much better do you think I need things to be?”

“I don’t mean better in that way. I mean…I don’t know…easier…” he swallows half the bottle of water, and she plucks it from his hand and finishes it before pushing herself up onto her knees and shuffling towards him.  “…don’t make me talk about these things. Please. Just don’t.”

“You’re doing fine,” she assures him, as she straddles his lap, a gentle smile on her lips as she pushes her fingers through his hair, nails scraping along his scalp before resting clasping her hands together at the nape of his neck. “What are you so scared of?”

“Nothing. I’m not scared of anything. I just don’t want to talk about shit like this. This isn’t me. You know that.”

“I think it is. Deep down. I think you need to talk about these things or you wouldn’t bring them up in the first place. Talk to me…” she pecks his lips, then rests her forehead against. “It’s okay…you can do this…you can be this way with me…you know that…”

He sighs, eyes closing as his palms run along her thighs, over her hips and up her back. Stopping briefly at her shoulders; fingers pressing into the flesh before his hands slide back down again, coming to rest of her sides.

“It’s okay…” she repeats. “Tyler…look at me…”

He opens his eyes. Brilliant blue locked on chocolate brown. And in that moment, Esme realizes that in almost six years, she’s never seen him like this. Not even when he was in the hospital fighting to not only heal, but to regain some sense of control over his life. Looking so confused and lost. Worried.

Vulnerable.

This big, strong and seemingly man for once wearing his heart on his sleeve.

“Tyler…you can say it. Whatever you need to say. You don’t have to do this. Keep things from me. Please. Just tell me. Talk to me.”

“Sometimes I think you hate me. For making things so hard on you.”

She blinks. “What?”

“For having to make the decisions you did. For having to give up your life. The job.  Everything changed when we met. Everything changed once things went to shit on that bridge. I changed. So did you. And you could have just walked away afterwards. But you didn’t.”

“Because I didn’t want to. Because I wanted to be with you. You didn’t force me to stay. I stayed willingly.”

“But things were hard. They sucked. Huge. You shouldn’t have had to see the things you did. Hear the things you did. You should have just left. When I was in the hospital. You should have just walked away. And sometimes I wonder if you wish you did.”

“Not once have I ever wished that. Not once have I ever hated you. I don’t regret giving up my life for you. Did it suck sometimes? Did I hate seeing you like that? Did I feel like shit because I couldn’t help you more than I already was? Did I hate seeing you in pain and suffering? Of course I did. I hated the circumstances. Not you.”

He nods slowly, eyes never leaving hers, searching for even the smallest hint of regret.

“Do I sometimes wish none of that ever happened? That things never went wrong in Dhaka? Of course I do. I wish every day that you didn’t have to go through what you did. That you didn’t have to suffer like you did. All those months of rehab and all the pain. I would take those away in a heartbeat and you know I would.  But everything else? Finding out we were having a baby? Deciding to get married? I don’t regret any of that.  I mean, you’re a pain in my ass…”

He gives a small chuckle.

“…but I don’t regret marrying you. Or having your children. And I’ve never hated you. Not even during our worst fights. When you’ve said some brutal and hurtful shit. Not even then. I love you. More than I ever thought I could love someone. And I meant what I said. That there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. But you need to trust me, Tyler. You wanted my help. You brought me into this. And now you have to trust me to do what I need to do. I know what I’m doing.”

“I can’t lose you,” his voice is barely above a whisper, those eyes still locked on hers. “I just can’t. You always talk about how scared you are to lose me. But I’m just as scared as you are. I don’t want to lose you. I can’t do this by myself. Take care of four kids. I just can’t.”

“Yes. You can. You would do it because you wouldn’t have any other choice.”

He shakes his head, finally turning his face away from her when the emotion becomes too much to handle. The rawness of the situation. The blatant, heart breaking honesty.

“You’re stronger and braver than you give yourself credit for,” she says, and presses a kiss to his temple.  “You’d be okay. And so would the kids.”

“I don’t…” the tears are hot and bitter as they trickle down his face.   “….can we not talk about this….please…I don’t want to talk about this…”

Placing a soft, tender kiss on his cheek, she lays on hand on the back of his head, encouraging him to rest it upon her shoulder.

“I don’t want to talk about this,” he whispers, and then clings to her, arms wrapped tightly around her slender body. “Please…” he begs, barely able to get the words out. “…don’t make me talk about this…”

She tightens her hold on him, one arm wrapped around his neck, the fingers of her other hand pressing into his scalp. “It’s okay,” she assures him.  “It’s okay, Tyler. I’ve got you.”

Those words hit with tremendous power.  And he surrenders. Finally giving in to all the fear and the worry.

His entire body shaking with the ferocity of his sobs.

[mminhos]

𝙱𝚊𝚍 𝙱𝚘𝚢 𝙽𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝙳𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝙲.𝟹 | 𝙷𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚐 𝙷𝚢𝚞𝚗𝚓𝚒𝚗

⇨ genre : badboy!au, childhood friends to lovers, college au

⇨ warnings : language

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Saturday

College on Friday had passed quickly, and you didn’t see much of Hyunjin, nearly at all. You didn’t have any classes with each other on that day, and the only time you’d see him was when he was walking out of the canteen, chatting up one of the sophomore cheerleaders. That, of course, didn’t surprise you the tiniest bit.

On the weekends, college students went back home to spend the weekend with their families. Your parents’ home was about half an hour away from the college, so you either travelled by bus or got your brother to take you.

“Y/N, can you put the new cakes out onto the display please?”

You turned to see Woojin holding a box full of newly baked and iced cakes. You smiled, taking them out of his hands and placing them down onto the side. Nodding your head along to the music that was playing on the radio, you could hear Jeongin’s voice in the background, serving the customers.

“Hi, can I get a coffee and fifteen minutes to talk to your cute colleague over there?”

Freezing, you glanced up to see Hyunjin standing at the counter, a smirk spreading across his face. Jeongin stared at you, a look of disgust on his face, before he handed Hyunjin his receipt and moved on to the next customer. Placing the last cupcake onto the display, you walked over to the coffee machine, waiting as the cup filled up.

“Are you gonna do one of those fancy designs on the top of it?”

“Do I look like Picasso to you?”

“No, but you look cute to me”

Glaring at the boy, who just bared a shit eating grin, you hit him with one of the cloths on the side, before placing his cup down onto the tray. Hyunjin picked it up, walking away to sit onto one of the tables in the corner of the cafe. You followed him out, sitting down opposite him and wiping your hands onto the apron.

“What exactly do you want Hyunjin? I’m working in case you couldn’t see”

“I was wondering if we could do a study session tonight”

You gawked at him, the look of confusion probably easily readable on your face. Hyunjin chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee before leaning back in his seat, raising an eyebrow at you.

“You want to do a study session tonight?”

“Yes, at like 6:30pm”

Staring blankly at him, you didn’t notice the trio of boys walk up to your table until one of them coughed loudly. You both looked up to see the standing there, one of them you recognised as Jisung.

“Hey Hyunjin, who’s this?” A man with blonde hair asked, his eyes squinting while he looked at you.

“This is Y/N” Jisung cut in before Hyunjin could speak. “Y/N L/N. Goes to our college” He finished before winking at you. “How are you doll?”

You shook your head at the boy before smiling slightly. “I’m okay. I better get back to work. Uhm, it was nice meeting you...”

“Chris, or Chan. Either is fine”

“Changbin. It was nice to meet you too”

You smiled, looking over at Hyunjin, who was giving Jisung a death glare. “I’ll see you at 6:30pm. Don’t be late.”

“Aye aye sweetheart”

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head before walking back over to the counter and walking into the back.

It had been half an hour since your and Hyunjin’s little encounter, and you had now been given the job of cleaning the tables, mainly so Jeongin didn’t have too. Hyunjin and his trio of friends were still sitting in the corner, occasionally breaking out into fits of laughter.

Hyunjin watched as you wiped down the tables and collected the empty glasses and finished plates, ignoring the small smile that crept onto his lips every time you said goodbye to one of the customers, whether it’d be a child or elderly woman.

“Wait, is that drool I see on Hyunjin’s lip?” Jisung asked, followed by a loud laugh.

Hyunjin shot his head over to the younger boy, leaning over and smacking his leg, cursing at him.

“Jin, isn’t she your childhood friend? She looks like the girl in the photo I saw that time” Changbin asked, sighing at Jisung.

“Yeah she is.”

“And she’s forgiven you already?” Chan asked, watching as you opened the door for a woman with a pushchair.

Hyunjin shrugged, leaning his head against the back of the chair. “I don’t know. I guess she’s just... being friendly”

“Well it looks like young Jinnie here has already developed a small crush on doll”

“Have not, and doll? Seriously Jisung?”

“What? It’s a cute nickname! Are you jealous Jinnie?”

“I will cut you watch yo—“

“Stop it!”

6:17pm

“Y/N, help with the plates will you sweetheart”

“Yes mom”

Stacking the plates on top of each other, you snatched the spare one out of Luke’s hand and sticking your tongue out at him, before walking into the kitchen. Your mom was by the sink, washing the dishes and you grabbed a tea towel, beginning to dry the towels. The sound of the door bell echoed throughout the house, but you both didn’t pay attention to it, as it was most likely your dad coming home from work.

“I’ll grab it” Luke shouted.

You placed one of the dishes back onto the shelf when a loud shout rang throughout the house. Your head span to look at your mom, who was staring right back at you. Throwing the towel onto the side, you ran out of the kitchen and into the corridor to see Hyunjin standing at the door, a slightly shocked look on his face while Luke stood by the door, his arms folded across his chest.

“You’re not welcome here you prick” Luke snarled “Go home”

“Actual—“

“Did I ask you to question me? I said you’re not welcome here, now fuck off”

“Luke!”

The boy turned around and looked at you as you ran over. Hyunjin sighed quietly, and you could see the look of relief in his eyes.

“Luke calm down! I told Hyunjin to come here”

“Why the hell would you do that?! Don’t you remember what you were like when he just, dropped you?!”

You sighed heavily, turning around to see your mom standing there, an apologetic smile on her face.

“Luke darling, Y/N’s old enough to make her own decisions. If she wants to see Hyunjin, she can. Come and help me put the plates away”

Luke groaned, giving one last death glare towards Hyunjin before walking away with your mom into the kitchen.

Rubbing your hands over your face, you huffed loudly before standing to the side, motioning your head for him to come. Hyunjin smiled, walking in and heading up the stairs. Closing the door, you ran up the stairs, following him into your room. Hyunjin was sitting on the windowsill, holding up one of the stuffed teddies that had taken the spot he was sitting on.

“I didn’t know you still owned this”

“And I didn’t know my blood pressure could become so high” you snapped, jumping onto your bed and lying down. “Own what?”

Hyunjin held up the black and white teddy, an eyebrow raised at you. Sitting up slightly, you stared at the teddy and then at Hyunjin. “I’m not gonna throw it away just because you got it me”

“I thought you hated me. Well, until Thursday”

“I did, now I’m just tolerating you”

“I’m honoured”

“You should be”

The boy chuckled, reaching down and opening his bag, pulling out a book and throwing it onto the bottom of your bed. You leaned forward and picked it up, opening it onto the pages that had notes sticking out on.

“There’s literally a page that you don’t know? Why do I need to tea—“

“Because my wonderful mother will go mental if I don’t know every single page”

“Alrighty”

8:32pm

“And now, after just over two hours, we’ve got it into your thick skull!” you exclaimed, clapping in delight.

“Well done Miss Y/N, you taught me a page” Hyunjin spoke sarcastically, blowing a kiss at you.

“A page that you couldn’t learn in a week may I add.”

The boy laughed in disbelief, throwing the book into his bag and placing it over his shoulders. You walked behind him to the door, following him down the stairs and to the door.

“So, this tutor thing is over now? Because you know it now”

“Well, if I struggle with anything again, expect me to back”

You laughed loudly, shaking your head before nodding in agreement.

“Goodnight Hyunjin”

“Night sweetheart”

Shutting the door gently, you headed back up the stairs, shouting a “goodnight” down to your parents and Luke. You closed your bedroom door, placing the books you and Hyunjin used back onto your shelf. Grabbing your hairbrush, you brushed your hair up into a ponytail before plopping down onto your bed, yawning slightly.

Suddenly, a smack against your window bounced off your bedroom walls. You shot your head towards the window, seeing Hyunjin sitting on his bed, his mouth open slightly. Walking over, you lifted your window up and attached the latch.

“What just hit my window?”

“A pen.”

“A pen?”

“Yes a pen. I’ll get it in the morning”

You shook your head in disbelief, sitting down on your windowsill and cocking an eyebrow at him. “What do you want?”

“I meant to tell you earlier, but, I couldn’t find the exact words to say. Now I do.”

“Go on”

“You know, the reason why, the reasons why I didn’t come back to you after he left, was because I didn’t want to put you in danger”

Gawking at the boy, you almost choked on the air. “What? What do you mean?”

He ignored you, standing up and pulling his curtains close together.

“Hyunjin! What do you mean?!”

“Just know it was better we stopped being friends”

“Hyun—“

With that, he shut his window and curtains, leaving you alone.

[justjessame]

Put Me In Coach 10

I blinked, I swear I must have blinked because it was THE DAY. Graduation day. I felt like I’d counted down since the first day of school, so how did I miss the last two days?

Negan woke me with a phone call as the sun had just peeked above the horizon. “Morning, Amara.” I smiled at the gruff tone of his voice. He must have just woken up. “Just think, princess, tomorrow at this time we won’t need the fucking phone to have this conversation.”

I settled back into my pillows. “Maybe we should keep them fully charged, just in case face to face is awkward.” His laugh was as low as his voice. I hummed. “I get to wake up in your bed, with your naked skin pressed against me, and I am fairly certain that I will think I’ve died and gone to-”

“AMARA!” Fuck. “Mara, open this door right now.” For fuck’s sake.

“Hang on, Negan.” I put the phone against my chest and opened my locked door once I’d extradited myself from my bed. “What is the emergency, MOTHER?!” I could feel Negan’s laughter through the phone vibrating my chest.

“Today’s the day, sweetheart.” And behind her stood the maid of the week, carrying a huge tray. “Breakfast in bed.” Or it would have been if I’d been allowed to stay in bed. “Come on, say goodbye to Mr.-” My glare stopped her. “Say goodbye to Negan, we’ll see him later.” Yeah, WE.

“Bye, Negan.” I said, rolling my eyes as my mother ordered the maid to clear a table and round up two chairs. “I’m having breakfast beside my bed, apparently.” I turned away and stage whispered, “tomorrow I get to have YOU for breakfast, right?”

His laughter carried me through. Through breakfast with my mother. Through a forced spa day that I salvaged by inviting Eric and Mary along last moment. Look, it was my fucking graduation day, if I allowed myself to be tortured into hair and makeup, then I was taking my two best bitches along for the ride.

By that evening, mere hours before walking across the stage to be handed our diplomas, we were once again in my room getting ready together. I wondered, as I watched Mary tease Eric about Steven and going away for school if it would be the last time.

“Shit, I think we’ve triggered Amara’s nostalgia button.” Eric’s eyes met mine in the mirror. He came up behind me and bent down to snuggle into my back. “What’s got you looking so sad, Mara?”

“Is this the last time we do this?” I glanced around, knowing I’d be packing my room up. That I’d be moving with Negan to a different school from the two of them. I was trying hard not to look at the downside, but I loved these two assholes. “Get ready for a major thing in my room?”

“Course not,” Mary answered, cuddling into my other side. “We’ll do it when we graduate from college, different rooms, but all together. We’ll do it again when you marry Coach.” I felt my eyes go wide. “Not soon, you dumb slut, but eventually. And then when Eric calms his dick down enough to pick one, we’ll do it again then. And one day, a VERY long fucking time from now, we’ll do it when I win an Oscar.”

I laughed and so did the two of them. Jesus. I was going to miss this. The two of them and me. “Texts,” I demanded, my hands grabbing one of each of theirs. “Calls, and texts, constantly.”

“Like you needed to fucking command it,” Eric rolled his eyes. “How am I gonna get that pic of Coach’s dick if I don’t stay in touch?”

  Graduation itself wasn’t all that memorable. Negan in a suit was a highlight, as was the announcement that he was leaving the faculty to move on to a new opportunity. His eyes met mine in the crowd of my fellow students and he mouthed ‘I love you’. And then, it was over, and caps were tossed and we were off.

My parents insisted on driving me to dinner. A small concession, since Negan and I were leaving together. I listened as my mother babbled on and on about this person’s kid and that person’s embarrassment. When she mentioned Eric’s name I looked up.

“Why didn’t you tell us that Eric had been made Valedictorian?” Oh right.

I shrugged, my gown still covering my dress, best to leave that surprise until there were witnesses. “I guess I take for granted how smart he is.” And Mary and I had tried EVERY bribe we could to get the programs to read ‘ERIC SULLIVAN-VALEDICTORIAN’. We even tried to get Negan in on it, but to no avail. The three gift bags holding Mary, Eric, and Steven’s gifts were on the floorboards, handles up so when the car stopped to let the valet park, I grabbed them in one swoop and started to get out.

“AMARA.” Fuck, what now? “The gown-” Oh right. Here goes.

I unzipped the cheap polyester graduation gown and slipped it off and tossed it into the car. Silence. Shit. “Let’s go see if our table is ready.” I tried for perky, but when I looked up I saw Mom’s mouth gaping.

“Where’s your dress?” She gasped and I felt Negan’s heat press up against my back.

“Found it,” his hand wrapped around my waist and pulled me tighter against him. “Amara, you look-” I felt exactly how he thought I looked, it was pressed against me. “Edible.”

“I really have a taste for a buffet.” I shrugged and his lips touched my cheek. “Later?”

“Not much.” He whispered, staying right behind me.

“Why would you need to eat at a buffet later?” My mom was muttering, trying NOT to draw attention to her scandalous daughter and her scandalous daughter’s date. “He really does look like a pit-boss.” Jesus, kill me now.

“Mrs. Kendall,” the host had found her in a crowd. My mom,the leader of the pack. “We have your table waiting, and I believe part of your party has already been seated.” Thank fucking god.

Eric and his family were seated. Mary and hers were seconds behind us. Then Steven and his. Once seated, Mom assuring us that she’d taken care of our orders, we settled into the faux casual conversation that came naturally to the Kendalls and anyone unfortunate enough to dine with us.

“Coach Negan,” Eric’s voice, and I was drawn out of my happy place where Negan’s hand had been playing with the bare skin of my back. “You’re getting out of town too, huh?” I bit my lip. They’d known the day after he showed me. “Wherever will you go?” His eyes were twinkling and I bit back a laugh.

Negan’s smile was evident in his voice. “I had a job offer.” He mentioned the school and my mom shot me a look. “It was too good to pass up.” I looked up at him and smiled.

“Aren’t they too freaking cute?” Eric practically squealed, causing other tables to look our way. I couldn’t have planned it better.

“Kiss me.” I whispered and Negan’s grin grew.

“Thought you’d never ask.” And his lips met mine and the room hushed. Of course, I could have just gone deaf from the actual fucking NEED I felt for him. He pulled back and rubbed my nose with his. “I love you, princess.”

“I love you too, Coach.” I winked and we refocused on dinner.

 Eventually the noise level rose back up. Our table wasn’t the focal point for long and we actually started to loosen up as a group. Present time came and Negan handed Eric the bag for me.

“You should know,” I said, as he started to reach inside. “Negan helped pick it out.”

Mary’s laughter was musical as Eric’s eyes widened in happiness. “You got me a fucking crown.” He perched it on his hair, and Steven, proving he was totally boyfriend worthy, fixed it so it sat just right.

“Haven’t you tried to convince me that you are a QUEEN our entire lives?” I asked, taking a sip of my water. “Figured a queen must have a crown.”

“This is why you’re my favorite.” He smirked as Mary smacked him. “I can have TWO favorites.”

My parents had given everyone a gift certificate for dinner. I got a pair of diamond earrings from Mom, the matching bracelet from Dad, and when Negan pulled a small box from his suit pocket another gasp went around the table. Not a chance, I rolled my eyes at their idiocy. The diamond necklace made the trio complete. I kissed him and he whispered just loud enough for me to hear “soon”. My stomach clenched and sighing I pulled away.

Mary had gotten me a gorgeous dress. Eric, the gift I both couldn’t wait to see, and almost wanted to open in the ladies’ room, just in case. Ripping off the wrapping paper, I heard Negan choke on the drink he’d taken as he saw what Eric had gifted me with. That little shit. A gorgeous platinum frame, with a blown up copy of the photo I’d sent him of Negan’s happy trail.

“Let’s see,” my mother urged, and I shook my head. I’d kill him. Stone cold dead.

I put my hand over the picture and held it up for her inspection. “Isn’t it the most wonderful FRAME, Mom?”

“Hand it here, the light is bouncing off it at that angle.” Fuck. Really?

“I’m afraid I’ll drop it,” please Jesus a bone. “I’ll show it to you at home.”

“Just pass it down the table, Mara.” She rolled her eyes and I wondered how many glasses of wine she’d had.

Down the table meant the frame would pass Negan, Eric, Steven, Mary, Dad, and then make it to Mom. Fuck. “Break it and I’ll promise you oral sex on demand from the moment we leave until the day I fucking die.” I offered Negan, but the devilish smile on his face told me he knew he had that already. Damn it.

And so, I watched as EVERY SINGLE FUCKING ONE, except Dad studied my hot as fuck boyfriend’s abs before it made it to Mom’s hands. And each and every one of them, from Negan on down, made a comment that could be taken in a very innocent, or very fucking dirty vein.

“The craftsmanship of this is very good, quality, but I think a couple more hours under the heat would have made it harder.” Fuck Negan.

Eric, not to be outdone, “I don’t know Coach, do you really have to screw with perfection on the off chance it gets better?”

Steven was a quick study and offered this gem. “Silver, I’m sorry platinum ages so well, doesn’t it?”

And Mary, my ovaries before brovaries, winked at me and said. “Damn, these background pictures are looking close enough to touch or taste.”

Dad barely glanced at it, but then again, his meal was clearly more interesting. And then Mom. “It is a lovely frame.” She squinted. “What is this background? Some sort of mountain range?” She brought the frame closer to her face. “Why that looks just like-” And then she sat the frame down and I could see her trying to decide who to glare at first. “Put your gift away, Amara.” And the frame came back down the table, ignoring the other side with my friends’ families.

“You’re in trouble,” Negan whispered, hot against my ear. “How did Eric get that picture, Amara?” Shit, he didn’t mean with Mom.

“It was the least risque one I had.” I muttered back. “Need I remind you of the night of the cilantro?”

His chuckle vibrated my chair. “You win that one.” His hand was on my bare back again. “I want you, princess. Now.”

I bit my lip. “I think I need to excuse myself, Mom.” She met my eyes and nodded. “Dad,” he glanced up with another nod. “I’ll be back in a moment.” Or an hour.

I stepped outside of the dining room and waited. A few minutes passed and then Negan walked out. “Your mom was glaring at me the entire time I was standing up from the table, sweetheart.” He was grinning. “Looks like I’m in trouble too.”

“Come with me.” I took his hand and walked to the end of the hallway. Opening the door, we were on the dock. “Remember when Mom wanted to do dinner on a boat?”

“And you shot her down?” He smiled, tugging me closer to him. “Vaguely.”

“Wanna have dessert on one?” I tilted my head up and his grin was bright.

 Now, I have to admit, when I asked to have dessert on a boat, I clearly meant sex. I meant sex in one of the below deck rooms, but sex was very high on my expectations. Negan, however, decided that sex below deck in a comfortable bed or on a sofa was too blase. We were going to have an entire night in a bed. Let’s celebrate.

And that’s how we ended up on the bow of the boat, him pressed against my back and me looking for all the world like a really strange figurehead. The skirt of my dress was already indecently short, and when he bent his knees just right, well, you get the picture. And we were in that position, fucking quietly and slowly, when my MOTHER and FATHER showed up.

“Amara? Is that you?” Please go away. “Honey, what are you to up there doing?”

Negan chose that moment to hit THAT spot and I had to bite my lip hard to stop from making a sound only dolphins would understand. “We’re,” I was breathless and strangely not anywhere near out of the mood. “Reenacting that scene from Titanic.” Call me fucking brainless, but he shifted again and I lost my entire mental functions.

“Titanic?” Negan’s lips were touching the shell of my ear and I had to swallow a moan. “Like my-”

“OH MY GOD!” Eric, of course, with Steven. My night is complete. “What are you two up there doing?” You know, because you’re at just the right angle, is that your phone?!

“You two look so darling up there,” my mom was saying, and I shit you not, drew her own phone out. “Let me take a photo, so you can have it forever.”

Sure, of us screwing on a boat that doesn’t belong to us, on graduation night, during dinner. Fuck. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Kendall, I’ve got it!” Eric’s voice rang out. “I’m sure the angle from here is MUCH CLEARER.”

Negan bit into my neck slightly as he rushed over taking me breathless along with him. Fuck. Shit. “Damn, sweetheart, I think-Fuck.” Yeah, no shit. He held me as we both got our breath back, me assuring Mom we’d be in to say goodnight shortly and throwing Eric such a death glare that he should have keeled right the fuck over.

“See you inside, PRINCESS.” Eric offered over his shoulder with a wink. UGH.

Negan was cleaning me up once our audience left and I was trying desperately to not toss myself into the man-made lake. His laughter made me look down. “You do know that Eric saw not just your dick, but your dick in action, right?”

He nodded and looked up at me. “He definitely did, but fuck if I don’t want a copy of it.”

I found myself laughing. I swear I was surrounded by crazy people. “Thank god for Mom’s wine intake.” I offered as he stood and kissed me. “Otherwise she might have asked why you weren’t screaming you were ‘king of the world’.”

“Gotta save something for home.” And our laughter rang out across the lake.

[neonbluewaves]

How about 3,4 and 6 for characters of your choosing? ^-^

Thank you!! hope you like them, picked one character for each

The three broomsticks is packed with students. This is the last visit before everyone goes home for the holidays so they make the most of it. Drink butterbeer, buy as much candy as possible, and even some presents for family and friends. 

Although Jacob does his shopping a bit different. He has his eyes set on some rare ingredients for a potion Duncan had to brew them. So he went to a fast, reliable source. Rue Garnet, with whom he was sitting at the moment drinking butterbeer. Her dad was a pretty good potioneer and he only used the best ingredients, from his wife’s apothecary. He had gone on a couple of dates already, faking a great interest in potions, and she had already given him a phial of dragon blood. They didn’t have any use for it, so he had saved it to give to his uncle as a present, being a healer he would appreciate it the way he didn’t.

He reached to her hand and held it gently, a smile on his face. This made the girl blush and take a sip of her glass, before clearing her throat and letting out a deep sigh.

-Isn’t this great?.- she asked, looking around.- the…uh… the season, that is! um… Christmas! It’s so wonderful, full of joy, and lights, and love and, you know, just

-Beautiful.- Jaocb said, looking directly into her eyes, as if impliying he was talking about her, and not Christmas time. She stared back at him, her face growing redder. 

-It’s my favourite season, what about you? What is your favourite season?

Jacob slightly tilted his head. Summer. He loved summer. His mom loved to make sangria, she loved going out, specially the beach. She loved cooking food, packing it up and making everyone treck to wherever she felt the view was worth it and have a family picnic. She smiled so bright the sun had nothing on her. And all their problems, all those rumors and bad reputation following them were gone. His dad had shown them once how a Welkin flew. No broom, no magic carpet. It was true what they said, once you saw a Welkin fly you never forgot. He had promised that once Neon were old enough he’d teach them both how to do it.

He loved going out with friends, but also exploring around their town, as far as they could go with his sister and cousins, dreaming of the day he’d be able to do it seriously, as a job. 

He let out a dramatic long sigh and used his free hand to rest his chin

-What a strange coincidence, mine is Christmas too!

And when she let out a nervous giggle, he knew he’d get what he needed before coming back from the holidays.

Neon sat with Kirley Duke sat in the empty Ghoul studies classroom letting the afternoon pass by. She actually enjoyed his company, he didn’t talk much but when he did it was an actual interesting conversation. He had lent Neon some mystery books and so had she in return. She felt that with every mystery she read about she got better at finding clues and putting pieces together, like the main characters in the novels did.

At the moment she was reading a novel called “The hound of the Baskervilles”, and Neon didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or smack Kirley in the head with it.“I think you’ll like it, you might feel identified” he had joked. She didn’t like jokes about the damn chruch grim, but she found herself being mildy annoyed instead of pissed. Kirley’s little smile and teasing tone were well-meaning, and she found herself actually intrigued to see this Sherlock dude solve the mystery. By her side her guitarist friend with a bunch of papers spread out the table, looking at one he held on his hand while writing down stuff with the other. His guitar laid between his torso and the table, untouched for a long time, Neon had been able to read in peace, but him not playing wasn’t a good sing.

-Hating your piece?.- she asked, leaving the book open so she wouldn’t lose the page she was on. He shrugged, unsure what to say. She leaned closer to read the lyrics, and then the melody, putting them together in her head. It seemed decent enough, but something about that composition lacked their usual zing, and Neon could see why he was doubting.

-You know -he started, soft voice calling her attention.- if you told Myron you play, he’d give you a spot in the band without second thought, you could help me with melodies.

-This is the first time you open your mouth and sound stupid, I told you guys I don’t know music, I’m tone deaf.- she lies so easily everyone’s believed her so far. But not Kirley, apparently.

-You looked at the sheet music as if you’d seen a thousand of these, and your eyes followed along it as if reading. What do you play?

-You keep that up I’m not going to your future concert, and I’m not inviting you guys to see any either.- she slightly changes subject because Kirley will keep cornering her, he had caught her knowing stuff she supposedly didn’t.

-Oh? So you’ve been to concerts before? What was the first concert you went to? - He drops the lyric sheet and the quill he was holding and turns to Neon, holding his guitar so it doesn’t fall

-It was a muggle rock band, Barón Rojo. Same year I played with you guys. Must admit I was glad my cousin and her boyfriend brought me there, if I hadn’t sit on Bastien’s shoulders I wouldn’t have seen shit, I was too short and the people there were too tall.- She knows Bastien got the tickets to buy her love, because he was shy, and a bit awkward, and his french accent made it a bit hard to understand, as he had some trouble understanding their weird mix of northern English and southern Spanish. He thought like this Neon would like him more, she was hard to get along with no matter what, and Neon let him believe that he was getting on her good graces like that. He was Laura’s boyfriend. They came and went. He’d probably be gone in a couple of months, or years, who cared. 

-you could come to our first concert...- Kirley says

-Thanks

-...as our rythm guitarrist- he ends his previous sentence

- I don’t play, dude.

+ + + + + 

Nuria sits by the shade the low walls in the courtyard offer, enjoying her free hours before transfiguration class, reading ‘Hogwarts, a history’. It’s not the kind of reading she usually likes. But Rowan is always talking about it, and she’d like to have a conversation about it with them. It’d probably be a great surprise too, being able to talk about one of their favourite books with one of their friend.

She was currently reading about the cockatrice incident that happened in the Triwizard Tournament of 1972, “didn’t some of our great, great, many more great grandparents participate in this Tournament thing?”, when she heard a flutter of wings nearby. She looked up and not too far, up on the wall, she saw an eagle looking at her. 

She smiles at it before going back to her reading. After a while of not hearing anything she looks up again, the eagle hasn’t moved. She looks around, nobody around.

-You can come sit next to me if you want.- she says loud enough to be heard by the bird.- I’m inviting you to come. -she adds, just in case

It flies down near where she is and in a split second Talbott is standing there.

-I didn’t want to interrupt your reading.- he says, and Nuria hears a bit of bashfulness there, and the thought of him feeling shy because of her makes her a bit giddy.

-You never interrupt, sit, wanna talk?

-I don’t know, what are you reading?

-Hogwarts, a history

-Talking it is.

Nuria laughs at this, and as Talbott sits next to her she looks around, looking for her bookmark, but she can’t seem to find it. She lets out a defeated sigh thinking a breeze might have blown it away.

-Can’t find my bookmark, guess I’ll write the page down on my hand

-Or you could dog ear it

-I could what?

-you know... Do you ever dog ear books?

Talbott looks at her, she honestly looks confused, and he is for a moment until he remembers this girl’s first language isn’t english, and that she honestly doesn’t know what this means.

-Dog ear, you know, fold the corner of the page

-Oh! that’s what it’s called? haha that’s so cute!.- her laugh is soft and hearty, and Talbott can’t help but smile a bit, of course she’d find the term cute.

-No, no. I can’t do that to a book, Neon would hit me with her chancla, and then my grandmother would raise from her grave and drag me six feet under with her.

Talbott, still smiling tilts his head as if asking for an explanation

-You see, back home we’ve got books, many, many books, different editions, special editions... Some of them are handwritten from medieval times, precious books that must be treated with care, they cost a fortune and cannot be replaced. So missteating a book like that would be unthinkable. Skye Parkin ripped pages off a book and Neon didn’t throw her off the quidditch stands because she was busy getting back those pages to put it back together.

Nuria laughs some more, and Talbott smile widens a bit more. He looks in his pocket and takes out a small wrapper.

-Would this work? it’s not sticky or anything

Nuria takes it, and their fingers brush lightly, but it feels like electricity, and warmth spreads through their faces. Nuria uses it as a bookmark and sets the book down into her bag. And they spend the rest of their free time talking.

From then on Nuria uses the wrapper as a bookmark and makes sure not to lose it.

[readbeneaththelines]

Captured Moments Pt. 1

A/N: You are an artist given the chance to work with BigHit Ent. as their Creative Art Director. Getting to spend time with BTS, you form a friendship with them. But With Namjoon, could it grow into something more?

Characters: Namjoon x Artist!Reader

Warnings: The Fluffiest Fluff, and soft Namjoon

Word Count: 4149 (The first one is always the longest for me LOL)

Thank you to the amazing @kingsuckjin for being an awesome person and being a beautiful beta! You rock you sexy thing you!

credit to the original owner of this gif

The dream job, the one that you have worked towards all your life. The artistic creator for one of the biggest Kpop groups in the world. You would have the opportunity to share your love of art, use your creative freedom, and hang out with seven of the most beautiful men you had ever seen. 

You had, since you could ever remember, always had an art implement in your hands. Whether it be a crayon, pencil, or paintbrush, you were always drawing and coloring, everything. That left the world your canvas, including the white walls of your house, much to the dismay of your parents. Of course they encouraged you, just not using the walls, to create and dream. You were talented enough to earn a full ride to the college of your dreams, Seoul National University. You spent the next 5 years studying your ass off, improving, growing, finding your niche in the art world. Your final year of graduate school, the Dean of the Arts College, Moon Joo, came to you. “Y/N, I have had brought to my attention a position for an artistic creator. It would involve set designing, artistic creativity, and working one on one with clients. I have watched you for the past five years, and I see in you a great potential. I would like to ask you to apply for the position.” You eyes grew wide as you listened to the praises of Dean Moon, excitement building at the prospect of finally having the chance to prove yourself to the world. “Yes sir! I am honored that you considered me for the position. What will I need to prepare?” He smiled at you, his caring demeanor showing throw his usually tough exterior. “I have already taken the incentive and sent your portfolio over to the company. If you gain the position, you should be hearing something from them within the week. 

A week? Your heart pounded, a slight twinge of anxiety settling in your brain. You possible future rested on your portfolio. Would it express who you were? Was it enough to give them insight to the passion that filled every fiber of your being? Taking a deep breath, you thanked the Dean and hurried down the corridor to your private studio. Fumbling for your cellphone, you pulled it from the bottom of your bag, hit call on your parents number.

“Hello?” a sleepy voice answered. “Shit! Sorry dad. I wasn’t thinking, I really didn’t mean to wake you.” you rushed your words, excited to share the news. “Is everything okay, sweetie?” his voice full of worry. “Yes! Yes dad, everything is great. I will call you later, when you are both up, I have something good to tell you.” You could hear your dad waking your mother. “It’s okay, hun, we’re up now. So what is this big news that you forgot the time difference?”  You took a deep breath as he put the call on speakerphone. “I have been recommended by Dean Moon for a possible artistic creator for a company here in Seoul! He sent my portfolio over to them and I should hear something within the week!” You couldn’t contain the giggles that erupted as you told your parents. “This may be my big break!” You heard your mom in the background, laughing at your giddy excitement. “Congratulations sweetheart. We can’t wait to hear that you got the position. Now, we are going back to sleep, but we will call you later. We love you, and we are so happy for you Y/N.” 

“Thanks, mom! Yes, get back to sleep, i’ll talk to you later, love you both.” You hung up, putting your phone on your desk. Picking up the charcoal pencil, you took a long stare at the blank canvas before putting the pencil to work, the image in your mind flowing seamlessly through your fingers. Two hours later, you had the outline created, a face of a small girl, smiling as she herself was drawing a picture. Scooting your stool back, you dusted yourself off, pleased with what you were seeing. Looking at the time, you hurriedly put your supplies away and headed to your next class. 

The next week had you always on your toes, every phone call making your heart race and jumping to grab it. Four days, nine hours and thirty-six minutes after your talk with Dean Moon, you received the call you had been anticipating. 

“Hello? Y/N Y/L/N speaking.” you were worried about the tone of worry in your voice, but it was quickly replaced with pure joy.

“”Yes, Miss Y/N, this is Bang Si-Hyuk, with BigHit Entertainment. I am calling in reference to your portfolio that was submitted for the position of artistic creator. I would like to extend an invitation to interview with myself and the board in person.”

BigHit Entertainment? Did you hear him correctly? Surely, this isn’t The BigHit of BTS. You almost forgot that ‘Hitman’ Bang was on the other end of the call. “Yes sir! Thank you sir. Just tell me the when and where, and I will be there.” You were given one day to prepare for the interview that would possibly change your life forever. One Day. Twenty. Four. Hours. 

Thanking him profusely, you hung up, collapsing onto your small couch. You suddenly sat upright, your mind racing with everything you had to do to prepare. 

“Chae! I need you!” you screamed out from your room. Your roommate came running, a panicked look in her eyes “Are you-” she stopped mid-step when she saw your huge grin. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again! I thought something serious had happened!” She stormed over to you, smacking you on the arm. “But something serious did happen. I have an interview with Bang Si-hyuk, of BigHit Entertainment.” The name falling off your tongue had you reeling like a schoolgirl inside. “No! Are you for real, Y/N? What the hell?” Chae plopped down beside you on the edge of your bed. “Remember me telling you that Dean Moon sent my portfolio for a position? It was sent to him. He wants an in person interview tomorrow. Tomorrow! I have nothing to wear, I don’t have anything prepared in case he wants to see some of my other work.” Chae grabbed your hands, the contact easing the panic rising in you. “I’ll help you get things together, all of your stuff is amazing, so anything would impress the pants off of him. As far as clothes, you can borrow something from my closet. I have the perfect outfit for you.” Jumping up, she scurried down the short hallway, coming back five minutes later with a few outfits in hand. 

She did have the cutest clothes. Where you always wore things thats were covered in paint or charcoal dust, she had skirts, dresses, outfits that looked classy yet refined. You settled on the flowy, purple , floor length skirt and a soft, cotton cap sleeved off-white top. It suited your carefree style and you felt like the beautiful young woman you were deep inside. Sitting at your two seater dining table, you searched through your photos of your artwork. Black and whites, colored, sepia tinted pictures covered the small area. You opted for the piece you had done your first year, a piece that was a sculpture you did for a summer art show, and lastly the piece you had been working on the past week. The smiling girl drawing, the younger you. You gently placed the photos in a binder, then placed everything in your bag. That evening, you, Chae, and a few friends had a celebratory dinner. By ten p.m. you were nestled in your bed, jittery and excited about tomorrow morning. 

Your phone's alarm went off at five in the morning. Stretching, you reached over to turn it off. Jolting upright, you swung your feet over the side of the bed, slipping your feet into your favorite slippers. Passing down the hall, you headed for the kitchen and the already brewing coffee. Pouring a steaming cup of brew, you made your way to the bathroom. You showered, brushed your teeth, and set about getting ready. You could hardly contain yourself as you too one last look in the mirror.

"You'll knock'em dead, Y/N, with both your talent and your looks" Char said sleepily from your doorway. " You really think so?" You asked nervously. Coming up behind you, Char started fixing your hair as she smiled at you in the mirror. " I don't think so, I know so." Taking both your shoulders, she turned you to face her. " You are talented beyond words, you're beautiful, and smart. They would be lucky to have someone as amazing as you on their staff." You hugged your best friend, giving her a genuine grin. "Thank you Chae. You always know how to pick me up." With a hug goodbye, you walked outside your apartment to catch a cab. Twenty minutes later, you were pulling up in front of BigHit studios. Taking a deep, calming breath, you stepped out and paid the driver. Bag in hand, and a confident smile on your face, you headed inside. You showered your ID to the lady at the front desk, nodding when she confirmed your appointment. 

"Please have a seat, Miss Y/N, Mr. Bang will be out in a minute." Just as your were about to sit down, you heard your name being called. You straightened yourself, taking long strides to greet the man who had called for you.

" Good morning Mr. Bang, it's very nice to meet you." You took his hand, gripping his just firmly enough to hopefully exude confidence. " Yes, welcome miss Y/N. Please, follow me. We are all looking forward to meeting you." His voice was kind and pleasant, his smile relaxing you instantly. You stepped into the board room, coming face to face with several board members, and them. Seven handsome friendly faces were smiling in your direction.  Everyone rose to their feet and bowed in greeting. You bowed in return to each one as they said their name. “Please have a seat, we are very excited to finally meet you. After seeing your portfolio, we are pleased to finally meet the person behind all that talent. You could feel your cheeks burning as you blushed at their compliment. 

“Thank you very much. I am honored for this opportunity to meet with you all. I hope that I am able to prove myself and my work effectively.” A round of nods of ‘yes’ filled the room as you took your seat at the head of the table. 

“I was very impressed by your portfolio. You have such talent, and to think that you are still in your final year at SNU. I have only seen this kind of talent before from seasoned artists. You should be very pleased with what you have accomplished already.” one of the board members spoke up. “Yes Ma’am, thank you. I have always had a heart for art, ever since I could remember. I was always creating, drawing, sculpting, even as a young child. Creating beauty, creating emotion through art is in my heart and soul. I can only hope that I can touch someone on a personal level with what I create.” The woman nodded in understanding. 

Bang Si-hyuk spoke up, garnering your attention to your left. “Have you brought any more of your works with you, by chance?” You nodded, pulling the binder from your bag. Opening it in front of you, several of the board members stood and came up behind you.Only the seven men sayed in their seats, talking amongst themselves. An older gentleman picked up the folio, carrying to the young men who were sitting on the opposite end of the conference table. The others took their seats as another took a stand behind his chair. 

“Miss, allow me to explain what we are looking for. We are searching for someone who has the ability to take a verbalized concept and turn it into something that would express the ideas of BTS. Each of the members have a certain concept they want to have visualized by people. We want someone who will be versatile enough to incorporate each unique style and vision of each member and give something that is, for lack of a better word, ethereal. From what we have seen of your work, we believe that you are the only one that fits this ideal. Of course, your work here will be credited for your education, and we will allow you personal time to finish your studies as needed. For compensation, we will offer you along with your salary, anything you may require to earn your Master’s Degree.” 

You were sure you were only imagining what they were saying and offering you. Creative freedom, a salary plus education requirements. This had to be too good to be true. “Y/N, we would like to extend you an offer in the position of Artistic Creator of BigHit Entertainment.” All you were capable of doing in response was nod while your jaw hung slightly agape. A soft chuckle from across the room brought you to your senses. “Yes! I mean, I would like to gladly accept the offer. Thank you so much, and you will not regret hiring me.” You stood as the board members came to shake your hand. You bowed politely to each one, thanking them personally for the offer. At last it was just you, Bang Si-hyuk ,and the seven members of the infamous BTS group left in the large meeting room. 

One by one, each member, from youngest to oldest, stood and made their way to you. You bowed deeply, only to be interrupted with a clearing of someone’s throat. “Ma’am, there is no need to be that formal with us.” You looked up, only to see Hoseok smiling broadly with his signature grin. “So-sorry. . I just  never met anyone famous before. Your face heated as you thought of how ridiculous your comment was. “It’s okay, we’re just like anyone else, normal and goofy.” Taehyung quipped, baring that adorable boxy grin of his. “Thank you. I look forward to working with you all. I hope I can meet your expectations. Namjoon spoke up, his english precise and clear. “If what you have to offer is as spectacular as what we have seen in your portfolio, there is no doubt that you will surpass our expectations. He took your hand, shaking in gently as you just stared in his eyes. Those eyes held a kindness that was beyond his age. He smiled softly at you before stepping aside for the rest of them to talk with you. 

“Alright boys, let’s give her some room. We have some things to finalize, and you all have choreo to get to.” with a wave of his hand, he shooed them from the room, taking a seat next to you. “They are really excited to start working with you. Don’t let them give you any worry, you will get along nicely with them.” You gave your first genuine smile, then set about settling your contract. The salary would be more than enough to let you live comfortably. You were offered a personal studio with which to work in, and a small private apartment close to the studios. Over an hour later, you were signing your name on the bottom line of a packet that seemed thicker than any dictionary you had ever seen. Thanking Bang Si-hyuk, you shook his hand, then let him lead you out of the meeting room. 

“Jisoo, would you please give Miss Y/N a tour of the facilities? Show here where she will be working and if you could please, call for a ride to take her to her new apartment.” Jisoo bowed “Yes sir, right away.” Smiling at you, she came from around her station, “Please follow me.” she motioned for you to follow her. She gave a full tour, the cafe, the studio, the practice rooms, and the main offices. “This is where you will bespending most of your time.” she motioned as she led you into a spacious art studio. Anything and everything you could ever want or need was in this space. “This is my space? I have this all to myself?” She gave a pleasant smile before answering. “Yes, Miss. If you find you need anything, please let me know and I will get it for you by the end of the day.” 

As the tour concluded, you were led outside where a car and driver were waiting for you. “Mr. Hyun will be taking you to your new apartment. When you are finished there, he will bring you back here for lunch. Please come to me when you arrive and I will show you where we will be eating.” Thanking her, you situated yourself in the back seat, letting your head fall against the headrest as the events of this morning came rushing over you. The apartment was just ten minutes from the studio, and easy walk if you had to. He led you upstairs, handing you your new keys to your new place. Stepping inside , you took a deep breath. It was larger than your current place, furniture already in place. It had a cozy relaxing feel to it. Soft muted colors and oversized couch and chairs. You walked from room to room, taking mental notes of what you would need to bring with you. 

Once you had a good look around, you met back with the driver. You were  back at BigHit, and the driver opened your door. You could see a small throng of girls standing on the corner, their heads darting in your direction as you exited the car and were walked inside. “They really do have no privacy, do they?” you asked Mr. Hyun, who only shook his head for an answer. You met back up with Jisoo, and she walked with you to the cafe, a large buffet set up in the back. 

“Ahh! Leave some for the others! You can’t hog all the pork!” Jin was pushing Taehyung aside, trying to steal the tongs from his hands. Jungkook was laughing about something Hoseok had said. When you entered, all heads turned in your direction. “Yes! The artist extraordinaire has arrived!.” Jimin came up to you, bowing slightly before giving you his heart-eyed smile. “Please, come on and join us. We just got started, hopefully there is still enough for you to enjoy.” You thanked him politely, letting him take the lead. He handed you a plate, then started to pile your dish with everything present. By the time he was done, your plate was stacked high and heavy. “Thank you Jimin.” you said, your voice small and shy. 

As if reading your thoughts, Hoseok stepped between you and Jimin. “Don’t be shy, Miss Y/N, we don’t bite. Come, have a seat with us, we were just discussing your artwork.” He put his arm around your shoulder, Jimin shrugging as he grinned. “You’ll get used to him, he is a very hands on person.” Hoseok guided you to their table, introducing you to the others gathered around. You greeted them all respectfully, shaking hands and bowing as needed. “So, tell us what you’re thinking. I’m sure this is all overwhelming right now.” Looking to your right, you saw Yoongi waiting for you to take a seat. You sat down quickly, taking the offered cup of water from Jungkook. His bunny smile had you at ease immediately. “Thank you, Jungkook. Ahh, yes, it is a bit overwhelming, but I am excited to get right to work. I can’t wait to hear all of your thoughts on what you want to portray to the public. Hopefully I can give your thoughts and ideas justice.”

“From what I saw, you have nothing to worry about. Your artwork is truly amazing. Looking through your folio, I was quite excited to get to meet the person who put so much passion into what they produced. You have a raw talent, Miss Y/N. I am sure you will give our ideas more than just justice. I think it will appear as if you were inside our minds.” Namjoon’s voice made the others go silent. When he spoke, it was with authority and kindness. Everyone hung on each word, as if he was delivering an important address. “Thank you for the encouragement, Namjoon. A please, you all can drop the Miss part. I am younger than you, and it makes me feel a bit uncomfortable at the formality. That is, unless you prefer.”

“Y/N it is then. But, only on the instance that you drop formalities also.” Jin chimed in. “Yes sir. I mean, okay.” Everyone, including yourself laughed at your statement. The meal was spent in pleasant chatter. You learned about the basics of BigHit, what daily life was like within these walls. Before you knew it, all plates were empty and you were fully sated. “Alright people, back to it, we have a lot to get caught up on. Y/N, if you wouldn’t mind, please come with me. We have a few things to finalize and then you are free for the day.” You rose from your seat, saying goodbyes as you left. “I believe you will flow with those here effortlessly. I just wanted to get your schedule for the next few weeks set up then you are free to go.” He led you to his office, which was almost bigger than your living room, dining room, and kitchen combined. You sat down in a soft leather settee, sinking deep as you lowered yourself. 

“May I ask a question?” He nodded a go ahead as he searched through his computer. “I was curious, I know you would expect me to start immediately, and I am ready to work. But, may  have a day to gather my things from my place and say goodbyes before tomorrow?”

“Of course, Y/N. I was planning on sending some help to your place to help you move, if that is okay. I would like to have you starting yesterday, but if you need time, how about Monday morning, say seven a.m. sharp?”  You readily accepted his offer, thanking him for the ample amount of time. Shortly, your schedule was set, and he walked you to the front door, holding his hand out. “I look forward to working with you, I cannot wait to see what talent you bring to BigHit. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to get busy, this place almost runs itself, but I am needed here and there.” You shook his hand then bowed deeply, thanking him again for everything. You walked to the bus stop, you mind running crazy with everything that had just transpired over the first half of the day. You have to remind yourself that you couldn’t call you parents yet, but your body was buzzing with joy. Taking your phone from your bag, you called Chae.

“I got the job!” you screamed, making several heads turn in your direction. “Oh my! I am so happy for you Y/N! We are definitely celebrating tonight. Drinks are on me. See you later, and congrats again.” You hung up, your smile beaming and reaching from ear to ear so much your face hurt, but you couldn’t stop. That night, before the party began, you called your parents. Their joy and happiness was evident, and you thanked them for allowing you to follow your dream. “I am so blessed to have parents like you. Thank you for allowing me to be who I want to be, for giving me the courage to follow my heart. All I am, is because of you and dad. Thank you mom.  I love you to the moon and beyond.” 

“We love you too, baby. I am happy for you and this new journey you are about to go on. May it be everything you have wanted. Once you get settled, your dad and I want to come for a visit, if you have time.” You hung up, happy tears blurring your eyes. You spent the rest of the night, and well into the early morning hours telling your friends what happened that day. You and Chae cried about you having to leave her, but you promised her she could come visit as soon as she was allowed. When all was said and done, you sat on your favorite lounge chair, glass of wine in hand and thought about what your mom had said. You were starting a new journey, and hopefully it would lead you to all you ever dreamed about.

The dream job, the one that you have worked towards all your life. The artistic creator for one of the biggest Kpop groups in the world. You would have the opportunity to share your love of art, use your creative freedom, and hang out with seven of the most beautiful men you had ever seen. 

You had, since you could ever remember, always had an art implement in your hands. Whether it be a crayon, pencil, or paintbrush, you were always drawing and coloring, everything. That left the world your canvas, including the white walls of your house, much to the dismay of your parents. Of course they encouraged you, just not using the walls, to create and dream. You were talented enough to earn a full ride to the college of your dreams, Seoul National University. You spent the next 5 years studying your ass off, improving, growing, finding your niche in the art world. Your final year of graduate school, the Dean of the Arts College, Moon Joo, came to you. “Y/N, I have had brought to my attention a position for an artistic creator. It would involve set designing, artistic creativity, and working one on one with clients. I have watched you for the past five years, and I see in you a great potential. I would like to ask you to apply for the position.” You eyes grew wide as you listened to the praises of Dean Moon, excitement building at the prospect of finally having the chance to prove yourself to the world. “Yes sir! I am honored that you considered me for the position. What will I need to prepare?” He smiled at you, his caring demeanor showing throw his usually tough exterior. “I have already taken the incentive and sent your portfolio over to the company. If you gain the position, you should be hearing something from them within the week. 

A week? Your heart pounded, a slight twinge of anxiety settling in your brain. You possible future rested on your portfolio. Would it express who you were? Was it enough to give them insight to the passion that filled every fiber of your being? Taking a deep breath, you thanked the Dean and hurried down the corridor to your private studio. Fumbling for your cellphone, you pulled it from the bottom of your bag, hit call on your parents number.

“Hello?” a sleepy voice answered. “Shit! Sorry dad. I wasn’t thinking, I really didn’t mean to wake you.” you rushed your words, excited to share the news. “Is everything okay, sweetie?” his voice full of worry. “Yes! Yes dad, everything is great. I will call you later, when you are both up, I have something good to tell you.” You could hear your dad waking your mother. “It’s okay, hun, we’re up now. So what is this big news that you forgot the time difference?”  You took a deep breath as he put the call on speakerphone. “I have been recommended by Dean Moon for a possible artistic creator for a company here in Seoul! He sent my portfolio over to them and I should hear something within the week!” You couldn’t contain the giggles that erupted as you told your parents. “This may be my big break!” You heard your mom in the background, laughing at your giddy excitement. “Congratulations sweetheart. We can’t wait to hear that you got the position. Now, we are going back to sleep, but we will call you later. We love you, and we are so happy for you Y/N.” 

“Thanks, mom! Yes, get back to sleep, i’ll talk to you later, love you both.” You hung up, putting your phone on your desk. Picking up the charcoal pencil, you took a long stare at the blank canvas before putting the pencil to work, the image in your mind flowing seamlessly through your fingers. Two hours later, you had the outline created, a face of a small girl, smiling as she herself was drawing a picture. Scooting your stool back, you dusted yourself off, pleased with what you were seeing. Looking at the time, you hurriedly put your supplies away and headed to your next class. 

The next week had you always on your toes, every phone call making your heart race and jumping to grab it. Four days, nine hours and thirty-six minutes after your talk with Dean Moon, you received the call you had been anticipating. 

“Hello? Y/N Y/L/N speaking.” you were worried about the tone of worry in your voice, but it was quickly replaced with pure joy.

“”Yes, Miss Y/N, this is Bang Si-Hyuk, with BigHit Entertainment. I am calling in reference to your portfolio that was submitted for the position of artistic creator. I would like to extend an invitation to interview with myself and the board in person.”

BigHit Entertainment? Did you hear him correctly? Surely, this isn’t The BigHit of BTS. You almost forgot that ‘Hitman’ Bang was on the other end of the call. “Yes sir! Thank you sir. Just tell me the when and where, and I will be there.” You were given one day to prepare for the interview that would possibly change your life forever. One Day. Twenty. Four. Hours. 

Thanking him profusely, you hung up, collapsing onto your small couch. You suddenly sat upright, your mind racing with everything you had to do to prepare. 

“Chae! I need you!” you screamed out from your room. Your roommate came running, a panicked look in her eyes “Are you-” she stopped mid-step when she saw your huge grin. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again! I thought something serious had happened!” She stormed over to you, smacking you on the arm. “But something serious did happen. I have an interview with Bang Si-hyuk, of BigHit Entertainment.” The name falling off your tongue had you reeling like a schoolgirl inside. “No! Are you for real, Y/N? What the hell?” Chae plopped down beside you on the edge of your bed. “Remember me telling you that Dean Moon sent my portfolio for a position? It was sent to him. He wants an in person interview tomorrow. Tomorrow! I have nothing to wear, I don’t have anything prepared in case he wants to see some of my other work.” Chae grabbed your hands, the contact easing the panic rising in you. “I’ll help you get things together, all of your stuff is amazing, so anything would impress the pants off of him. As far as clothes, you can borrow something from my closet. I have the perfect outfit for you.” Jumping up, she scurried down the short hallway, coming back five minutes later with a few outfits in hand. 

She did have the cutest clothes. Where you always wore things thats were covered in paint or charcoal dust, she had skirts, dresses, outfits that looked classy yet refined. You settled on the flowy, purple , floor length skirt and a soft, cotton cap sleeved off-white top. It suited your carefree style and you felt like the beautiful young woman you were deep inside. Sitting at your two seater dining table, you searched through your photos of your artwork. Black and whites, colored, sepia tinted pictures covered the small area. You opted for the piece you had done your first year, a piece that was a sculpture you did for a summer art show, and lastly the piece you had been working on the past week. The smiling girl drawing, the younger you. You gently placed the photos in a binder, then placed everything in your bag. That evening, you, Chae, and a few friends had a celebratory dinner. By ten p.m. you were nestled in your bed, jittery and excited about tomorrow morning. 

Your phone's alarm went off at five in the morning. Stretching, you reached over to turn it off. Jolting upright, you swung your feet over the side of the bed, slipping your feet into your favorite slippers. Passing down the hall, you headed for the kitchen and the already brewing coffee. Pouring a steaming cup of brew, you made your way to the bathroom. You showered, brushed your teeth, and set about getting ready. You could hardly contain yourself as you too one last look in the mirror.

"You'll knock'em dead, Y/N, with both your talent and your looks" Char said sleepily from your doorway. " You really think so?" You asked nervously. Coming up behind you, Char started fixing your hair as she smiled at you in the mirror. " I don't think so, I know so." Taking both your shoulders, she turned you to face her. " You are talented beyond words, you're beautiful, and smart. They would be lucky to have someone as amazing as you on their staff." You hugged your best friend, giving her a genuine grin. "Thank you Chae. You always know how to pick me up." With a hug goodbye, you walked outside your apartment to catch a cab. Twenty minutes later, you were pulling up in front of BigHit studios. Taking a deep, calming breath, you stepped out and paid the driver. Bag in hand, and a confident smile on your face, you headed inside. You showered your ID to the lady at the front desk, nodding when she confirmed your appointment. 

"Please have a seat, Miss Y/N, Mr. Bang will be out in a minute." Just as your were about to sit down, you heard your name being called. You straightened yourself, taking long strides to greet the man who had called for you.

" Good morning Mr. Bang, it's very nice to meet you." You took his hand, gripping his just firmly enough to hopefully exude confidence. " Yes, welcome miss Y/N. Please, follow me. We are all looking forward to meeting you." His voice was kind and pleasant, his smile relaxing you instantly. You stepped into the board room, coming face to face with several board members, and them. Seven handsome friendly faces were smiling in your direction.  Everyone rose to their feet and bowed in greeting. You bowed in return to each one as they said their name. “Please have a seat, we are very excited to finally meet you. After seeing your portfolio, we are pleased to finally meet the person behind all that talent. You could feel your cheeks burning as you blushed at their compliment. 

“Thank you very much. I am honored for this opportunity to meet with you all. I hope that I am able to prove myself and my work effectively.” A round of nods of ‘yes’ filled the room as you took your seat at the head of the table. 

“I was very impressed by your portfolio. You have such talent, and to think that you are still in your final year at SNU. I have only seen this kind of talent before from seasoned artists. You should be very pleased with what you have accomplished already.” one of the board members spoke up. “Yes Ma’am, thank you. I have always had a heart for art, ever since I could remember. I was always creating, drawing, sculpting, even as a young child. Creating beauty, creating emotion through art is in my heart and soul. I can only hope that I can touch someone on a personal level with what I create.” The woman nodded in understanding. 

Bang Si-hyuk spoke up, garnering your attention to your left. “Have you brought any more of your works with you, by chance?” You nodded, pulling the binder from your bag. Opening it in front of you, several of the board members stood and came up behind you.Only the seven men sayed in their seats, talking amongst themselves. An older gentleman picked up the folio, carrying to the young men who were sitting on the opposite end of the conference table. The others took their seats as another took a stand behind his chair. 

“Miss, allow me to explain what we are looking for. We are searching for someone who has the ability to take a verbalized concept and turn it into something that would express the ideas of BTS. Each of the members have a certain concept they want to have visualized by people. We want someone who will be versatile enough to incorporate each unique style and vision of each member and give something that is, for lack of a better word, ethereal. From what we have seen of your work, we believe that you are the only one that fits this ideal. Of course, your work here will be credited for your education, and we will allow you personal time to finish your studies as needed. For compensation, we will offer you along with your salary, anything you may require to earn your Master’s Degree.” 

You were sure you were only imagining what they were saying and offering you. Creative freedom, a salary plus education requirements. This had to be too good to be true. “Y/N, we would like to extend you an offer in the position of Artistic Creator of BigHit Entertainment.” All you were capable of doing in response was nod while your jaw hung slightly agape. A soft chuckle from across the room brought you to your senses. “Yes! I mean, I would like to gladly accept the offer. Thank you so much, and you will not regret hiring me.” You stood as the board members came to shake your hand. You bowed politely to each one, thanking them personally for the offer. At last it was just you, Bang Si-hyuk ,and the seven members of the infamous BTS group left in the large meeting room. 

One by one, each member, from youngest to oldest, stood and made their way to you. You bowed deeply, only to be interrupted with a clearing of someone’s throat. “Ma’am, there is no need to be that formal with us.” You looked up, only to see Hoseok smiling broadly with his signature grin. “So-sorry. . I just  never met anyone famous before. Your face heated as you thought of how ridiculous your comment was. “It’s okay, we’re just like anyone else, normal and goofy.” Taehyung quipped, baring that adorable boxy grin of his. “Thank you. I look forward to working with you all. I hope I can meet your expectations. Namjoon spoke up, his english precise and clear. “If what you have to offer is as spectacular as what we have seen in your portfolio, there is no doubt that you will surpass our expectations. He took your hand, shaking in gently as you just stared in his eyes. Those eyes held a kindness that was beyond his age. He smiled softly at you before stepping aside for the rest of them to talk with you. 

“Alright boys, let’s give her some room. We have some things to finalize, and you all have choreo to get to.” with a wave of his hand, he shooed them from the room, taking a seat next to you. “They are really excited to start working with you. Don’t let them give you any worry, you will get along nicely with them.” You gave your first genuine smile, then set about settling your contract. The salary would be more than enough to let you live comfortably. You were offered a personal studio with which to work in, and a small private apartment close to the studios. Over an hour later, you were signing your name on the bottom line of a packet that seemed thicker than any dictionary you had ever seen. Thanking Bang Si-hyuk, you shook his hand, then let him lead you out of the meeting room. 

“Jisoo, would you please give Miss Y/N a tour of the facilities? Show here where she will be working and if you could please, call for a ride to take her to her new apartment.” Jisoo bowed “Yes sir, right away.” Smiling at you, she came from around her station, “Please follow me.” she motioned for you to follow her. She gave a full tour, the cafe, the studio, the practice rooms, and the main offices. “This is where you will bespending most of your time.” she motioned as she led you into a spacious art studio. Anything and everything you could ever want or need was in this space. “This is my space? I have this all to myself?” She gave a pleasant smile before answering. “Yes, Miss. If you find you need anything, please let me know and I will get it for you by the end of the day.” 

As the tour concluded, you were led outside where a car and driver were waiting for you. “Mr. Hyun will be taking you to your new apartment. When you are finished there, he will bring you back here for lunch. Please come to me when you arrive and I will show you where we will be eating.” Thanking her, you situated yourself in the back seat, letting your head fall against the headrest as the events of this morning came rushing over you. The apartment was just ten minutes from the studio, and easy walk if you had to. He led you upstairs, handing you your new keys to your new place. Stepping inside , you took a deep breath. It was larger than your current place, furniture already in place. It had a cozy relaxing feel to it. Soft muted colors and oversized couch and chairs. You walked from room to room, taking mental notes of what you would need to bring with you. 

Once you had a good look around, you met back with the driver. You were  back at BigHit, and the driver opened your door. You could see a small throng of girls standing on the corner, their heads darting in your direction as you exited the car and were walked inside. “They really do have no privacy, do they?” you asked Mr. Hyun, who only shook his head for an answer. You met back up with Jisoo, and she walked with you to the cafe, a large buffet set up in the back. 

“Ahh! Leave some for the others! You can’t hog all the pork!” Jin was pushing Taehyung aside, trying to steal the tongs from his hands. Jungkook was laughing about something Hoseok had said. When you entered, all heads turned in your direction. “Yes! The artist extraordinaire has arrived!.” Jimin came up to you, bowing slightly before giving you his heart-eyed smile. “Please, come on and join us. We just got started, hopefully there is still enough for you to enjoy.” You thanked him politely, letting him take the lead. He handed you a plate, then started to pile your dish with everything present. By the time he was done, your plate was stacked high and heavy. “Thank you Jimin.” you said, your voice small and shy. 

As if reading your thoughts, Hoseok stepped between you and Jimin. “Don’t be shy, Miss Y/N, we don’t bite. Come, have a seat with us, we were just discussing your artwork.” He put his arm around your shoulder, Jimin shrugging as he grinned. “You’ll get used to him, he is a very hands on person.” Hoseok guided you to their table, introducing you to the others gathered around. You greeted them all respectfully, shaking hands and bowing as needed. “So, tell us what you’re thinking. I’m sure this is all overwhelming right now.” Looking to your right, you saw Yoongi waiting for you to take a seat. You sat down quickly, taking the offered cup of water from Jungkook. His bunny smile had you at ease immediately. “Thank you, Jungkook. Ahh, yes, it is a bit overwhelming, but I am excited to get right to work. I can’t wait to hear all of your thoughts on what you want to portray to the public. Hopefully I can give your thoughts and ideas justice.”

“From what I saw, you have nothing to worry about. Your artwork is truly amazing. Looking through your folio, I was quite excited to get to meet the person who put so much passion into what they produced. You have a raw talent, Miss Y/N. I am sure you will give our ideas more than just justice. I think it will appear as if you were inside our minds.” Namjoon’s voice made the others go silent. When he spoke, it was with authority and kindness. Everyone hung on each word, as if he was delivering an important address. “Thank you for the encouragement, Namjoon. A please, you all can drop the Miss part. I am younger than you, and it makes me feel a bit uncomfortable at the formality. That is, unless you prefer.”

“Y/N it is then. But, only on the instance that you drop formalities also.” Jin chimed in. “Yes sir. I mean, okay.” Everyone, including yourself laughed at your statement. The meal was spent in pleasant chatter. You learned about the basics of BigHit, what daily life was like within these walls. Before you knew it, all plates were empty and you were fully sated. “Alright people, back to it, we have a lot to get caught up on. Y/N, if you wouldn’t mind, please come with me. We have a few things to finalize and then you are free for the day.” You rose from your seat, saying goodbyes as you left. “I believe you will flow with those here effortlessly. I just wanted to get your schedule for the next few weeks set up then you are free to go.” He led you to his office, which was almost bigger than your living room, dining room, and kitchen combined. You sat down in a soft leather settee, sinking deep as you lowered yourself. 

“May I ask a question?” He nodded a go ahead as he searched through his computer. “I was curious, I know you would expect me to start immediately, and I am ready to work. But, may  have a day to gather my things from my place and say goodbyes before tomorrow?”

“Of course, Y/N. I was planning on sending some help to your place to help you move, if that is okay. I would like to have you starting yesterday, but if you need time, how about Monday morning, say seven a.m. sharp?”  You readily accepted his offer, thanking him for the ample amount of time. Shortly, your schedule was set, and he walked you to the front door, holding his hand out. “I look forward to working with you, I cannot wait to see what talent you bring to BigHit. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to get busy, this place almost runs itself, but I am needed here and there.” You shook his hand then bowed deeply, thanking him again for everything. You walked to the bus stop, you mind running crazy with everything that had just transpired over the first half of the day. You have to remind yourself that you couldn’t call you parents yet, but your body was buzzing with joy. Taking your phone from your bag, you called Chae.

“I got the job!” you screamed, making several heads turn in your direction. “Oh my! I am so happy for you Y/N! We are definitely celebrating tonight. Drinks are on me. See you later, and congrats again.” You hung up, your smile beaming and reaching from ear to ear so much your face hurt, but you couldn’t stop. That night, before the party began, you called your parents. Their joy and happiness was evident, and you thanked them for allowing you to follow your dream. “I am so blessed to have parents like you. Thank you for allowing me to be who I want to be, for giving me the courage to follow my heart. All I am, is because of you and dad. Thank you mom.  I love you to the moon and beyond.” 

“We love you too, baby. I am happy for you and this new journey you are about to go on. May it be everything you have wanted. Once you get settled, your dad and I want to come for a visit, if you have time.” You hung up, happy tears blurring your eyes. You spent the rest of the night, and well into the early morning hours telling your friends what happened that day. You and Chae cried about you having to leave her, but you promised her she could come visit as soon as she was allowed. When all was said and done, you sat on your favorite lounge chair, glass of wine in hand and thought about what your mom had said. You were starting a new journey, and hopefully it would lead you to all you ever dreamed about.

@min-shookga-yoongi @beautifulseoulliar @agustd-suga-yoongii @astronomyturtle @aspaceformyself @dreamyoongi @holy-yoong i@trashkazuya @maxinaptak @micky1518 @rosiemilas @karri570

@seoulsunshineandstories @kwonnansi @xjamlessparkx @berryjam17

@kingsuckjin

[rhcdesx]

( gregg sulkin, cismale ) hey ! have you seen KIERAN RHODES around ? HE works as a CHEF AT THE BIG BEAR BISTRO at big bear resort, but they must be off their shift by now. well, if you do see them can you let me know ? they’re 22 years old & they’ve been working here for TWO MONTHS. they tend to be +ALLURING & +DAUNTLESS, but can also be -ARROGANT & -CALLOUS. the other employees have labeled them THE LOTHARIO. thanks a lot ! 

basics:

name : kieran archer rhodes

nicknames : kier, k

age : twenty-two

birthday : 20 august (leo)

sexuality : heterosexual

born : london, england

relocated : manhattan, nyc

height : 5′9

favorite color : teal

accent : english

fluent in : french, italian, latin

hogwarts house : slytherin

when not at big bear : studies pre-law at columbia university

job : chef

hobbies : football, soccer, swimming, cooking

aesthetics : bruised kiss marks on necks, bruised knuckles, mischievous grins, & late night soaks in the hot tub.

family:

mother : freya davenport-rhodes (42)  †

father : oliver rhodes (43)

step mother : katherine rhodes ( née mccoy ) (39)

siblings : ezra rhodes (24)

step siblings : theodore mccoy (20)

half sibings : isabella rhodes (6)

about:

growing up kieran was no stranger to money. hearing the term ‘born with a silver spoon in their mouth’ referred to him better than anyone else he knew. it was all thanks to the empire his grandfather started to stay in the UK. the man had ended up falling for an english woman when he was studying abroad at columbia, he fell in love and needed something impressive to not have to the leave the woman he loved.

the hotel business was a very fortunate one. after his grandfather sent his son (kieran’s father) to america to follow his footsteps at the same university he was able to come back, sign on to be a partner and launch their empire worldwide.

even with being spoiled all his life, it was clear to him that his mother preferred his brother. ezra was the golden child, the first born son blah blah, he could do no wrong in his mother’s eyes. where as kieran found trouble so easily, needing money more often to get himself out of things rather than being rewarded.

most of the time his father was busy working and his mother would give him however much money he requested so he'd go away and not have to dealt with. though he was still required to show up to whatever hotel events, galas, or charity auctions that required strong family representation. they couldn’t been seen as less than perfect when they were all together.

though during those events he’d always find someone to sneak off with, whether it was to do drugs in the bathroom or a hot hookup. the boy liked to be entertained and often found himself easily bored, plus if it pissed off his parents it was a no brainer.

going behind the scenes further, you’d know that not only did his mother prefer his older brother, she didn’t really like his father very much either. they were only married because she got pregnant, a dumb fling sparked from hate, and he felt obligated to stand by her, plus it didn’t hurt that she wouldn’t be able to testify against him in court. they played the happy family for a while, she enjoyed using the money to her advantage.

it wasn’t long before kieran’s dad found himself a mistress, they ended up meeting in fact at a party at the dean’s house while ezra was in columbia. kieran was the one who spotted them, and the fact that she was already pregnant at the party. but perfect families had to go on. his father made sure kieran’s supply of money was constant, anything to keep the boy quiet.

his mother was in a car accident, she didn’t survive. kieran’s dad used the excuse of wanting to find out who was behind it to keep him family in new york. enough time passed and the case had turned cold, which soon led kieran to have a step mother and a half sister.

of course now that his father had the wife he always wanted, the boy was even more invisible which only made him more careless, reckless. his father would make sure that their reputation was in tact.

he finished off his junior year of hs in new york, along with his senior year before being accepted into columbia himself. sure his family has been making donations to the school for generations, but the boy is smart. the money did help clear up anything he was bound to get himself into eventually though.

facts relevant now:

he’s messed up any real relationship he’s ever had whether it was with cheating or something else. he hasn’t met anyone that’s wanted him to stay committed.

he uses sports to channel his anger, when he can’t use sex and basically uses sex for anything else.

kieran acts first and asks questions later, probably why he ends up in so much shit but he can’t help himself.

his family frequently vacationed at big bear resort, the owner being in business with his family.

he’ll try really hard to convince you he’s heartless, he’s not actually but it’s buried deep beneath his surface.

when he wasn’t causing trouble ( & still being ignored ) he picked up cooking, the channels being on an endless loop late at night and he found he was actually pretty good at it. not that he’d let anyone from home find that out.

he got really drunk one night and decided racing the porsche was a good idea and ended up crashing it into the living room. now while his family pays for repairs, kieran was forced to work at the lodge while the rest of the family vacations in paris. his father made it so the boy would finally have to own up to something, so it was either prison or work for his dad’s dear old partner. the choice was simple.

he figured something he’d actually be good at that also allowed him to hide in the back of the bistro was perfect, thus landing himself the job as the chef. 

connections:

bromance/roommate : leo takanashi. two dumbasses together under one roof, what could possibly go wrong? double trouble, always fueling each other to do stupid things. most of the time the stupid things are done together. 

best female friend : aylie monroe. possibly an ex that didn’t go sour. sees the best in him even though he’ll never see it himself. willing to smack him in the head if he needs it.

best bro : ryder monroe. he’s been around forever and always down to do stupid shit with kieran. the two of them are a dangerous stupid mix but it’s never dull and the laughs never stop. 

good friends : jason callahan. open. i know it’s surprising that an asshole like kieran has these, but by some odd reason he does.

mom friend : open. the girl who’s constantly giving him shit, lecturing him, trying to get him to see the error in his ways.

confidant : open. they get high together or get drunk and spill their guts. they both have info on each other so they know how crucial it is to keep each other’s secrets.

his soft spot : cleo ortiz. every asshole has a weakness -- she’s the one who can get to him like no one else can. a close friend. looks out for him while calling him out on his shit, though he just laughs it off, possibly romantic as well?

sexual tension :  open. the tension between the two of them is so undeniable though neither of them have given in...yet.

fwb/frequent hookups/flirtationships : ingrid kelly. callie macdermot. open. open. pretty self explanatory seeing as kieran and relationships don’t mix well. he’s more than likely to send them all the said booty call text and see which one answers the fastest.

one night stand : open. one night of passion, giving in to temptation. possible things are awkward now or they can’t get enough now.

pregnancy scare : open. with all the messing around he does, it was bound to happen.

ex girlfriend : callie macdermot. the one and only. it only lasted a month and the two mutually ended it, just the label part anyway. they both couldn’t see themselves in a relationship but they still like being around each other. 

ex hookups/flings : open. open. relationships that fizzled out, run there course, or more than likely kieran ruined by saying/doing something stupid.

childhood friends : aylie monroe. ryder monroe. they grew up together. the people who would more than likely know about his real mother and what she was like when she was alive.

playful frenemies : open. constant back and forth, flirting he can’t help. she denies him and only makes him want to play with her more. built up tension to where only a kiss can shut him up, though she’s going to act like nothing ever happened.

friendships turned enemies : roman walsh . he had a girlfriend who was kind of a bitch, very persistent and even though kieran turned the girl down she wouldn’t stop, cornering him when he was drunk and his will wasn’t as strong. long story short, kieran helped the girl cheat on his friend and they haven’t been cool since. 

unlikely friends/ current rivals : marco di angelo. these two are always butting heads, who even knows where it stems from, but they have more in common than they realize.

mutual bad influences : ivan anderson. open. pretty self explanatory. they cause double the trouble when they’re together and have a great time doing it and fueling each other’s horrible ideas.

good influence : open.  the person who keeps his head on straight. the good influence friend every mess needs to find balance.

anything else tbh, i’m open to anything and everything.

[ohmytheon]

It’s (Not) a Date (1/2)

summary: What better way to get petty revenge on his father than blow his money at an insanely expensive restaurant? It's a good idea in Todoroki's opinion and the person that will enjoy the experience the most is Uraraka, so of course it makes perfect sense to ask her if she wants to go out for dinner with him. What could go wrong?

notes: This was 80% inspired by this tumblr post, which made me laugh for five minutes, and 20% inspired by wellthengetouttathesoupaisle's Chaotic Rich Kid Todoroki fic, "two hundred and fifty-three black sandelwood bathbombs". I wasn't supposed to write Todochako, but when Sven from the Kacchako Discord asked for Todochako fluff, my lizard brain refused to focus on anything else. Uh, this was supposed to be like 3k. Now it's two chapters and I might be done with it.

It took Todoroki an embarrassing amount of time for the actual idea to form. Instead of hitting him all at once like lightning, it came to him in pieces, a part of the puzzle here and another there until it formed a picture. Once the idea was in his mind, he couldn’t let it go. There was something so perfect about it that it almost made him smile just thinking about it (which probably should’ve been when he knew that this was different). With the idea created, he realized what he had to do.

No, he knew what he wanted to do. He had spent his whole life living by what he had to do that he sometimes forgot that he could do things simply because he wanted to do them. There didn’t have to be some grand reason or life or death situation. If he wanted ice cream, he could get it. He didn’t have to wait to reward himself because he accomplished something in class, won a mock-battle, or defeated a villain. He could just do things.

Even if those things were extremely petty.

He didn’t say they had to always be good things or nice ideas.

The first piece of inspiration had actually come from Bakugou, who had been telling his friends a story about how he’d stuffed cotton balls in his ears so that his mom’s yelling was muffled. Then, after laughing, Ashido had added that she sometimes wore her headphones when she was on the train even when her iPod was dead so that guys wouldn’t talk to her. They were such small things that Todoroki couldn’t help but take note of upon overhearing them in the common area. Apparently, Bakugou’s mom had been so pissed upon finding the cotton balls that she had quit yelling and left the room, just as he’d wanted.

The second piece of the puzzle came from Momo. Blushing, she had told people that she’d upset her mother over the weekend by wearing purple to some fundraiser her parents’ were throwing instead of the assigned red and gold theme that were her family’s colors. It was such a dumb, little thing, but it had apparently infuriated her mom, who didn’t always agree with Momo’s decision to become a hero. She was very close with her parents, but they didn’t always get why she was so willing to put herself in danger all the time. They didn’t know her like their classmates did.

Still, the fact that Momo had done something so small to get back at her mom was...eye-opening. Whenever Todoroki had tried to get back at his father, it had usually been something on a much grander scale, such as refusing the fire half of his quirk for years or trying to become a hero with only the half of his quirk that he’d inherited from his mother. He had always been a “go big or go home” type of person. Maybe it came with the nature of his powerful quirk.

After coming to U.A., he had figured out that sometimes much more subtle jabs were more efficient, like the time he’d slurped his food during whenever his father had tried to talk. The shock and frustration on his face had been utterly priceless, but because Todoroki hadn’t done anything really, he couldn’t say much without looking like a total idiot.

The third and last piece seemed so random compared to the rest and it had taken him a day or two to piece them all together. On the rare occasion that they had a break, Todoroki had gone out with a group of his classmates (his friends) to blow off some steam at the mall. By the time they left to get something to eat before going back to the dorms, everyone had bought something - except for Uraraka. Her thriftiness was by now known to everyone. Even if she was saving money by no longer having to pay rent, she kept a very tight budget, a habit she couldn’t break.

When they stopped to eat at a restaurant, she’d hesitated and then ordered the cheapest meal. No one else had noticed it, but he certainly did, especially when he ordered what might’ve been the most expensive meal. He hadn’t done it intentionally - it was simply the best-sounding one on the menu - but he couldn’t miss the way she had stared almost dreamily at his food when everything arrived. When he had asked if she’d wanted a bite, she had blushed furiously and insisted that she was fine. She avoided him the rest of the night, embarrassed at having been caught. Being considered poor didn’t bother her, but she didn’t like to bother her friends with it.

A week later, with the plan in mind, Todoroki sat at the couches in the common area with his friends. They were supposed to be doing a study session for Present Mic’s exam, but to be honest, he wasn’t paying attention. Iida and Deku were the most involved, trying to help Ashido and Sero, both of whom were lamenting about the class. Their scores had begun to improve once they’d started doing these sessions, but the cost was high apparently. Todoroki had studied English as a kid with his mother, the only reason why it didn’t seem so difficult to him.

Uraraka sat on a large cozy chair with her textbook and notes in her lap, chewing on the end of a pen as she read through them. If she wasn’t careful, it was going to explode in her mouth like last time and get ink everywhere. She’d looked like she got into a fight with a giant squid and potentially lost. Not that she lost many fights these days. Now near the end of their second year, her technique with her quirk had grown into one of the strongest in the class. Just the other day, she had helped them win a mock-battle in their hero course. He wasn’t sure they would have won without her.

Once the session ended, everyone got up and started to head off to spend the little free time they had left before bed. Uraraka didn’t seem to notice everyone leaving, too absorbed in her notes, until Iida put a hand on her shoulder. Startled out of her reverie, she smacked him in the chest and he floated quickly to the ceiling. “Oh, I’m sorry!” She pressed her fingers together. “Release!” When Iida crashed onto the couch unceremoniously, she cringed and pressed a hand to her mouth. “Oops, should’ve given you a warning.”

“It’s quite alright,” Iida reassured her, adjusting his glasses as he pushed himself up. “I just wanted to make sure that you don’t stay up too late. Pulling all-nighters to study has been proven to be detrimental to scores.”

Uraraka smiled. “Okay, Dad, thanks. I won’t.”

Instead of getting upset over the teasing comment, Iida nodded his head and then walked away, his job done. That left only Todoroki, Uraraka, and Deku at the couches. While Uraraka went back to looking over her stuff, Deku was slowly gathering his things together, lost in thought about something. Todoroki glanced at him. Normally he didn’t mind if the other boy was around, but for some reason, the persistent feeling that he wanted Deku to be gone kept creeping on him.

He didn’t know why. It wasn’t like this was a big deal or anything.

After placing his mostly ignored notes in his backpack, Todoroki slung it over his shoulder and walked over to her. Scratching her head and sticking her tongue out as she wrote down a sentence, she didn’t look up. It wasn’t until he said, “Uraraka,” did she pause and glance up at him.

“Hey!” The smile from earlier reappeared on her face, the only difference was that it was less teasing. “You were quiet all night. Well, you’re pretty quiet normally, but not that quiet. You good?”

“I’m fine. Thank you for asking.” Todoroki gazed down at her. Now that he was here, he was having trouble actually saying what was on his mind. It didn’t help that Midoriya was still around, but it wasn’t like he could ask him to leave. Besides, it shouldn’t have been an issue. They were friends. He’d hung out plenty of times with just Momo or Midoriya and he and Uraraka had become better friends over the past year. So he might as well just say it. “Do you want to get dinner with me tomorrow?”

Uraraka turned bright red. “Eh?”

There, the question was out. He felt a lot better, even with her looking at him like he’d grown an extra head. She had a habit of looking down on herself and he knew that he tended to be distant, so maybe she’d thought that they weren’t actually that great of friends. They were. He simply had a difficult time showing it. He was trying to get better about it though.

“Do you want to get dinner with me tomorrow?” Todoroki repeated. Behind him, he heard Midoriya cough. It could’ve been for any reason. Maybe he was catching a cold. Whatever the case, Todoroki didn’t mind him as he stayed focused on Uraraka. “I’m kind of mad at my dad right now and figured I could spend some of his money”

“So you...want me to have dinner with you...to get back at Endeavor?” Uraraka asked slowly.

Todoroki shrugged his shoulders. “Essentially, yes, but the place I was thinking of has a dessert special that you’ve mentioned really liking.”

Uraraka’s eyes practically sparkled at the mention of dessert. She had an insatiable sweet tooth, somehow worse than Natsuo’s, one that she bemoaned on a frequent basis whenever she was trying to eat healthily. Maybe it was a low blow, mentioning the dessert since he knew how much she loved sweets, but then he had thought of her when he’d looked up the menu. He hadn’t been there in years, not since he’d been forced to attend business dinners with his father, but the food had always been exceptional and he didn’t think she’d ever been.

“You don’t have to go if you’re busy or uncomfortable,” Todoroki added for good measure.

“No, no! I’ll go!” Uraraka rushed to say, waving her hands in the air. “Um…” She put a finger under her chin. “What time?”

“How does seven sound?”

“That’s fine. It gives me time to get ready after my gymnastics training with Aizawa. Ugh.” Everyone was trying to build up their strengths in unique ways. If it seemed unusual, it probably helped in some unpredictable way. “Is there like a dress code or something? We’re just gonna get some food, right?”

“Yeah, wear whatever you feel comfortable in.” That was what he was going to do at least. He liked to think that he had a better style than, say, Midoriya, but he wasn’t overly concerned with fashion either. Besides, it wasn’t like he expected her to wear an evening gown or something like that.

“Okay.” Uraraka’s cheeks were still pink and the smile on her face was nervous for some reason, but she didn’t look bothered that he’d asked her to hang out. He had worried that he might come off as weird or annoying, but then she had always been very friendly and warm. “This will be fun!”

It would certainly be interesting. Todoroki nodded his head in agreement, bid her and Midoriya goodnight, and left for his dorm. Midoriya wore a bright, wide-eyed stare and it took him a beat to respond. He wasn’t sure why his friend looked so shocked, but it didn’t matter. Dwelling on it was pointless and he was tired. He had a lot to do tomorrow if he was going to slack off at night.

[hale-of-stiles-heart]

starry-eyed surprise

A continuation of ‘falling for you like a meteor shower’! For the sentence starter: “You made me a pie!” (also on ao3!)

Kirishima was right about the meteor shower. Bakugo had never known that space dust could be so beautiful.

The dark night sky, black as ink and dotted with starry pinpricks, was streaked with ephemeral light from the meteors. They danced across the sky, bright and breathtaking and befitting of the misnomer of shooting stars.

Bakugo had never had any interest in stargazing before, viewing it as he did many things as a waste of time. Something that wouldn't help him achieve his goals and therefore irrelevant and stupid.

But he was starting to understand it now. If only because of Kirishima's reactions.

With his head on Kirishima's shoulder, Bakugo could hear each and every small sigh and gasp the redhead made while watching the sky. Kirishima was clearly entranced, pointing out every meteor with childlike glee.

Bakugo briefly wondered if Kirishima had done this with his mother. If they had sat up on their roof or laid out in the backyard and stargazed together, if that was when his mother had told him that she knew he would be a hero because of the constellation he had been born under.

But Bakugo didn't linger long on those thoughts considering another drifted to the forefront of his mind. One that he immediately voiced, startling Kirishima from his excited stargazing.

"When the fuck is your birthday?" He practically growled, tipping his head to the side to look up at Kirishima's face. Kirishima sent him a thoroughly confused look in response, frowning to himself.

"Uh, the sixteenth," Kirishima answered warily, brows drawing together. Bakugo raised a brow of his own, telling him to go on without saying a word. Kirishima sighed and reluctantly continued, "...Of October."

Kirishima's wariness was immediately validated when Bakugo sat up sharply and whipped around to glare at him. Arms crossed over his chest, out of both frustration and because it was fucking freezing, Bakugo snapped, "Your birthday was last week?! What the fuck?!"

Kirishima glanced around nervously, waving his hands around awkwardly. He desperately shushed Bakugo, frantically whispering, "Dude, be quiet! You'll wake someone up!"

"Don't fucking shush me, you asshole!" Bakugo hissed, swatting Kirishima's hand away. He didn't give a shit if he woke anyone up. He had more important things to worry about. "Why the hell didn't you tell me?! We could've done something! I don't know, we coulda celebrated!"

Granted, Bakugo had never really seen the point of making a big deal about birthdays, but he wasn't that shitty of a boyfriend to not want to celebrate Kirishima's birthday. Especially since the idiot deserved the best fucking birthday ever.

Every time there had been a birthday for someone else, Kirishima was adamant that they celebrate, something about not wanting anyone to feel left out. Even before they had been dating, Kirishima had made sure they had all celebrated Bakugo's birthday.

And Bakugo hadn't even known when his birthday was.

"We did do something for my birthday," Kirishima insisted, immediately freezing Bakugo in his tracks. At Bakugo's skeptical look, he explained, "Remember? We went to see that new movie and then you took me out to lunch."

Bakugo did remember. They had gotten Principal Nezu's approval to leave the school grounds to go see the new All Might movie that Bakugo had been wanting to see for weeks.

They had held hands in the dark theater throughout the movie, squeezing each other's hands during particularly intense action sequences. Bakugo had managed to ignore his usual misgivings about public displays of affection throughout the movie, running his thumb over Kirishima's callused knuckles.

After the movie, Bakugo had been in such a good mood that he had taken Kirishima to have lunch at a nearby fast food restaurant. Over vanilla milkshakes and French fries, they had ranted and raved about the movie between flirting with one another.

It had quickly turned into a genuine date without Bakugo even intending it. Not that he had been complaining.

Once they had returned to UA, they had spent the rest of the afternoon making out in Kirishima's room, ignoring Kaminari's invitation to play video games in the common room. They had only stopped in favor of squeezing in a bit of tutoring interspersed with brief breaks for more kissing and some snacks.

All in all, it had been a pretty good day. But now that Bakugo knew it had been Kirishima's birthday, he wished he could do it all over.

He wished he would have let Kirishima pick what movie they saw. He had seen Kirishima's eyes lingering on a poster for some indie road trip movie, he should have taken him to see that one instead.

He wished he hadn't brought Kirishima to some shitty McDonald's for lunch. There had been an actual restaurant only five blocks away where he could have brought Kirishima for a lunch worthy of a birthday meal.

He wouldn't change the enthusiastic makeout session once they had gotten back to school since he knew that Kirishima had been a thousand percent into it. But he never would have insisted that they actually study; Kirishima shouldn't have had to get tutored on his birthday.

Worst of all, Bakugo knew that he couldn't even say anything. He couldn't apologize or offer to make it up. Because he knew that Kirishima would insist that he'd had a great time, that it was the best birthday he'd ever had, just because he got to spend it with his boyfriend.

Sometimes Bakugo wished that Kirishima was just a little more selfish. But it didn't matter now. Because Bakugo was going to make it up to him.

He was going to give Kirishima the best fucking birthday ever. Even if it was a week late.

But for now, Bakugo just grumbled his assent and turned back around, leaning back against Kirishima's broad chest. Kirishima instantly curled his arms around Bakugo's waist, tugging him closer as they turned their attention back to the stars.

Bakugo had always been a good cook. Hell, he was a fucking great one.

He could trace it back to when he was a little kid, helping his dad in the kitchen while his mom was at work or her book club or whatever the hell it was his mom did all day. With a lack of anything else to do and the ravenous hunger of a little kid, it had been a win-win situation all around.

Especially for his dad. He had always had a love of cooking, having gone to culinary school for a few semesters before changing his major and going into fashion.

At home, the DVR and Netflix queue were both full of various cooking shows ranging from more competitive shows like Chopped and Iron Chef to educational programs like Good Eats. His dad was pretty much obsessed with Alton Brown.

Throughout his childhood, Bakugo had dutifully helped his dad cook dinner nearly every night after school. On the weekends, he would help his dad make huge breakfasts fit for a family of twelve, including everything from chocolate chip banana pancakes (his dad's favorite) to eggs Benedict (his mom's favorite).

Cooking had always been calming for Bakugo. The monotony and routine of it enough to refocus his energy on something less destructive than exploding everything in sight when he was upset.

The summer training camp (before it had gone to complete shit) had given him an opportunity to show off his culinary skills, delighting Kirishima to no end. The redhead had sung Bakugo's praises when he had made a simple beef stew, moaning into his bowl and practically begging for seconds.

So, Bakugo already knew Kirishima liked his cooking. Which set his plan in motion.

A few days after their little trip up to the roof to stargaze, Kirishima kissed Bakugo on the cheek before leaving dorms to train and then hang out with Tetsutetsu. The second he was gone, Bakugo immediately set to work cooking him the best birthday dinner ever.

Gyu kushi with a homemade Worcestershire dipping sauce, beef tataki with ponzu and wasabi on the side, a giant slab of flank steak marinated in soy sauce and Dijon mustard and served with white rice, and Wagyu korokke were all made with the intention of satisfying Kirishima's love of meat.

The rest of the veritable buffet of food consisted of miso soup made with yellow miso, onigiri with sha-ke and umeboshi fillings, yakisoba, and vegetable tempura. He even made some gyoza in case Kirishima wanted some pork, too.

Never one to half-ass anything, once he had finished the savory dishes, Bakugo turned his attention to dessert. He fried up a large batch of sata andagi with a side of chocolate side and grilled skewers of mitarashi dango.

It wasn't until he was finished mixing the sweet soy sauce glaze that he realized that he had completely forgotten the most important thing for a perfect birthday celebration: a cake.

Bakugo kicked himself for the oversight while growling at Kaminari to get away from the korokke, smacking his hand with a wooden spoon for good measure. Turning towards the common room, he called to Ashido who was decorating the common room at his behest. "Yo, Pinky! What kind of cake does Kirishima like?"

When Bakugo had started cooking Kirishima's birthday dinner, it had immediately drawn a crowd. The rest of the class had smelled food and rushed downstairs to circle the kitchen like a flock of vultures.

Growling at them all like a lion fending off his kill from a pack of mangy hyenas, Bakugo had explained that the food was for Kirishima, to celebrate his birthday. The others, none of whom had been aware that Kirishima's birthday had passed the prior week, had immediately volunteered to help.

While continuing to cook, Bakugo had barked out orders, directing people left and right. He would never admit it but having the others help set things up made everything a hell of a lot easier.

Now, held up by Tokoyami's Dark Shadow to hang red streamers from the ceiling with Uraraka who was floating beside her, Ashido turned to Bakugo. Pursing her lips, she tapped her chin and reported, "I think he likes chocolate! With chocolate buttercream!"

Bakugo nodded to himself. He could make the most chocolatey cake Kirishima had ever eaten, with a chocolate mousse filling and ganache topping. It would be amazing.

"Yeah, but he likes pie in the fall!" Sero added, taping up the large banner Yaoyorozu had made. Beside him, cradling his sore fingers, Kaminari nodded decisively.

"I don't know," Ashido hummed, gesturing for Dark Shadow to lift her a bit higher. "A birthday pie instead of a birthday cake?"

"He'd probably think it's manly!" Kaminari pointed out, picking up one of the red balloons Shoji had blown up. He released just the slightest bit of static electricity, handing it to Uraraka who stuck it to the ceiling.

In the courtyard, Todoroki was lighting a large bonfire while Iida rushed around setting the tables Sato and Midoriya had moved outside. The commotion outside briefly distracted Kaminari who trailed off while mumbling, "He said something about his mom's apple pie awhile ago. Maybe he'd like that..."

Frowning down at the kitchen counter, Bakugo swore to himself. Of course, Kirishima liked pie, that fall-loving fucker. He just had to like the one dessert Bakugo had never made before.

Swallowing his pride, reminding himself that it was for Kirishima, Bakugo tugged his phone out of his pocket and pulled up his contacts. When his dad answered, he solemnly asked, "How do you make a pie?"

Bakugo Masaru's apple pie recipe was the most well-guarded culinary secret in all of Musutafu, Japan.

As a child, Bakugo had never been allowed to so much as watch his dad make his famous pie. He was always exiled from the kitchen whenever his dad decided to bake it, stuck watching TV until his dad let him put it in the oven.

The pie was usually reserved for special occasions; holidays, birthdays, graduations, Bakugo's acceptance into UA, et cetera. Though there were times his dad simply made it because he was craving pie.

Bakugo had grown up eating his dad's delicious apple pie, could trace all of his fondest childhood memories back to the taste of apples baked in caramel sauce with a brown sugar crumb topping. It had always been his favorite dessert, the one sweet treat he let himself indulge in, in contrast to his usual affinity for spicy, savory foods.

He had always wanted to know the recipe but his dad never revealed it, keeping it a beloved secret. But two hours after Bakugo called him, there were three piping hot caramel apple pies cooling on the only part of the kitchen counter that wasn't occupied by other food dishes.

Bakugo had pulled out all the stops. There was a bowl of extra caramel sauce sitting in the microwave, ready to be warmed up at a moment's notice, and a tub of Kirishima's favorite brand of vanilla ice cream waiting in the freezer.

The tables outside were all set, the bonfire was blazing, and a mountain of presents had materialized on the coffee table after the rest of the class had rushed to the mall while the pies baked. They had somehow managed to drag Mr. Aizawa along so they could get permission to leave campus, bringing him back to the party with the promise of food.

Everything was ready. The only thing missing was the birthday boy himself and his metallic escort who had agreed to distract while Bakugo set up for the surprise party. Sometimes Bakugo's threats were rather effective.

"Yo, Tetsutetsu just texted!" Kaminari called from the common room as Bakugo washed his hands for the umpteenth time that day since he started cooking, scrubbing dried dough and brown sugar off his fingers. "He said they're almost here!"

In an instant, everyone (including Aizawa who was actually smiling) was ducking behind the common room couches or slipping out into the courtyard to hide. Bakugo dried his hands on a dish towel while crouching down behind the kitchen counter, waiting patiently for his boyfriend to arrive.

Everyone waited for the perfect moment as the front door swung open and Kirishima walked in, followed by Tetsutetsu. Bright smile in place, Kirishima animatedly claimed, "Yeah, man, the movie's awesome! Bakugo took me to see it last week."

On Bakugo's mark, a loud snap of his fingers, everyone stood, bursting out of their hiding places. At the top of their lungs everyone, even Koda as shy as he was, yelled, "Surprise!"

Kirishima was completely caught off guard, taking an instinctive step backwards and triggering his Quirk. He immediately raised his arms in an attempt to shield himself and Tetsutetsu, always a selfless hero.

A moment later, he registered the sound of party horns and people laughing, slowly dropping his arms to look around the room. He glanced around the common room, taking in the sight of the heavily decorated walls with a small gasp.

The room was transformed from a regular living room to a bright crimson tribute to Kirishima. Red streamers covered the ceiling and walls like scarlet spider webs brightening the drab beige walls to the same shade as his hair.

Red and black balloons covered both the floor and the ceiling, the light filtering through them from the overhead lamps casting red shadows throughout the room. Hanging from the ceiling in the center of the common room, a large banner drew his attention as it proclaimed, Happy Belated Birthday, Kirishima!

Around him, all of his friends were gathered with wide, happy smiles. They were all cheering and clapping and celebrating.

Kirishima continued looking around, spotting the tables covered in red tablecloths in the courtyard where even more balloons and streamers were set up around a roaring bonfire. Various shades of shiny wrapping paper drew his eye to the coffee table and the massive Jenga tower of presents that had amassed there.

He turned back to his friends who were all still cheering for him, his eyes wide and his jaw slack. Taking a tentative step further into the room, he softly asked, "You... You guys put this all together...? For me?"

"It was Kacchan's idea!" Midoriya excitedly announced, beaming at Kirishima. Gesturing around the room, indicating all of the various decorations and the buffet of food in the kitchen, he explained, "He put this all together!"

For once, Bakugo didn't even bother snapping at Midoriya. He didn't think Kirishima would particularly care for him yelling during his birthday celebration. He'd just kick Deku's ass some other time.

Rolling his eyes, Bakugo carefully balanced one of the pies in his hand and walked over to greet Kirishima. Holding out the pie so Kirishima could blow out the candles, he mumbled, "Happy birthday, shitty hair."

"Aww, babe...!" Kirishima cooed, eyes widening even more at the sight of the pie in Bakugo's hand. "You made me a pie!"

But instead of rewarding Bakugo with a smile, Kirishima started tearing up, his bottom lip wobbling. Sniffling a bit, he murmured, "You did all of this for me? Oh, Bakugo..."

Panicking a bit, Bakugo hastily handed the pie off to Sero and nodded towards the courtyard. Sero seemed to take the hint, motioning for everyone to follow him as he led them outside to the table of food, leaving Bakugo and Kirishima alone.

Bakugo curled his arms around Kirishima's waist as the redhead rested his forehead against Bakugo's collarbone, hiding his face in his boyfriend's chest. He tangled his fingers in the fabric of Bakugo's shirt, tugging him closer.

Not sure what else to do, Bakugo rubbed Kirishima's back with one hand, burying the other on Kirishima's hair to scratch his nails over his scalp. Swallowing heavily, he asked, "Hey, what's wrong? Did I do something?"

"No. No, it's just..." Kirishima started, voice muffled a bit. He cut himself off with another sniffle. Wiping his eyes, Kirishima lifted his head, giving a watery laugh. "I just can't believe you did all of this for me. Thank you."

"You deserve it," Bakugo said, pressing a kiss to Kirishima's temple, keeping his arms around him. Hugging Kirishima tight, he continued rubbing his back, hushing him gently.

"My dad let me use his secret apple pie recipe," Bakugo told him, earning another a small laugh. Smiling to himself, he quietly admitted, "There was just one condition."

"Yeah?" Kirishima hummed, reaching up to run his fingers through Bakugo's hair. Setting his chin on Bakugo's shoulder, he asked, "What's that?"

"He wants you to meet him and my mom," Bakugo hesitantly answered. "Think you're up for it?"

"Definitely," Kirishima agreed, raising his head to wipe his eyes and peck Bakugo on the lips. Grabbing his wrist, he started dragging Bakugo towards the courtyard. "I can't wait to get your mom to show me your baby pictures! Now c'mon, let's eat!"

Send me Kiribaku prompts!

[occasionalfics]

Christmas Cheer (Thor X Reader)

drabble masterlist | main masterlist | taglist

For @warriorsacrifice: “Thor's s/o and him spending Christmas together and they decorate the house and tree as well as eating cookies and watching movies? Then she tells him about Santa and he's all giddy?”

A/N: I actually loved writing this? I know it’s...not at all the right season but I don’t even care? And if you know anything about me, you should know that I’m a hopeless romantic so of course I had to work mistletoe into this! Also, I’m Jewish so...I based most of this off of what I’ve done with friends for Christmas and/or things I’ve seen in movies (legitimately) and read in books. I...think I got things accurate, but I’m not gonna pretend like it’s all perfect.

Oh and yeah Elf is my favorite Christmas movie. Because, “The best way to spread Christmas Cheer is singing loud for all to hear.” And also because “Smiling’s my favorite!” AND “Bye Buddy! Hope you find your dad!” AND Zooey Deschanel singing “Baby It’s Cold Outside.”

Warnings: Nothing, super cute and fluffy!

Words: 2,524

Normally you went home for the holidays, but this year, your parents had decided to go on a Cruise instead of hosting Christmas at their house. That ended up being for the better, you thought. You wanted to spend Christmas with Thor, but you weren’t sure it was time for him to meet your family yet. You’d only been dating a couple of months, and you knew family could be something of a touchy subject for him. You didn’t want to rush anything, so you decided to decorate your apartment and host a mini-party for just the two of you.

He stayed over the day before Christmas Eve and helped you decorate the living room. You already had your tree up - it was one of the fake ones that fit on top of a table, given how small your space was - but you’d saved a few ornaments for him to place on it. He studied each ornament closely, asking questions about the details like, “This is that Queen from Alderaan, right?”

You nodded. “Princess Leia,” you told him, unwrapping the last ornament from the bubble wrap you kept around the breakable ones.

“Your favorite,” he said, a proud smile on his face as he placed the Leia ornament over one of the small branches.

“That she is,” you said, handing him the final ornament. “Doesn’t hurt that you kinda remind me of her.”

Thor took it as a compliment, like it was meant. He beamed, probably remembering the last time you’d made him watch the original Star Wars trilogy. You weren’t totally unconvinced that Leia wasn’t his favorite, too, although he always said it was Chewbacca.

That night, you watched It’s A Wonderful Life. It was your mom’s favorite movie and a Christmas tradition. Thor paid attention the whole time, waiting until the end to ask, “Is that really a thing Midgardian teachers say? About the angels?”

You laughed and shook your head. “Not anymore, anyway. It’s just...a nice line in the movie, I guess.”

He hummed his response as the end credits rolled. As the DVD menu came up, he said, “I know George Bailey had to go through all of that to learn his lesson, but I must say, I don’t think I agree.”

You turned to him and asked, “How so?”

“Wishing that he’d never been born? How could he ever expect that his friends and family would be better off without him? His wife was so lonely…”

“She wasn’t his wife if he’d never been born,” you said, giving him a somewhat sad smile.

“Yes, but that’s my point! Life happens as it’s meant to. Tempting fate by reversing time is dangerous. And, in George’s case, selfish.”

You nodded. “But you said yourself he had to do it to learn.” You tilted your head and watched his serious face. “Are you telling me you’d never go back and change even just one thing that happened before today?”

He paused, then shrugged. “A life lived without regrets is a life lived without growth. That’s why I love that cartoon about the mouse who cooks,” he said, his smile widening just a bit.

You laughed at that. “He’s a rat. They’re bigger, and they tend to be more highly stigmatized.”

“Right. But I meant that that movie deals with mistakes and failure in a much healthier manner,” he said. “But I assume it’s not meant to be a movie viewed during Christmas?”

“It’s more of an anytime movie,” you said. “But I do have one you might like more. It’s a comedy, and Santa Clause is in it!” You got up off the couch and went to your movie collection to find Elf. You changed the discs in your player, then sat back beside Thor and watched his face change from contemplation to elation. Oh yes. He was going to love Elf.

He spent the next morning going over all of the jokes he’d loved from the previous night. “And Mr. Narwhal?” He nearly bent over laughing. “‘Bye Buddy, hope you find your dad!’” he said in an exaggeratedly light tone before placing his palms on your dining table to hold himself up. “You were right. I quite liked that movie!”

“The man who plays Santa in it is also in Up. you remember that one, right?” you asked, pulling more decorations out of the bin on the table. You had garlands and a wreath, jingle bells and holly all laid out, but you were digging for your mistletoe. You had one little (fake) branch that you wanted to keep out of Thor’s sight so you could hang it up later and surprise him, but you couldn’t remember where you’d put it.

“Of course I remember!” he said, reminding you that you’d asked him a question. “And you know, now that you mention it, I can hear the similarities in their voices.”

“He’s Ed Asner. Super snarky on Twitter. I love him.” You handed him a garland and some tape, then showed him where it should go and how to properly hang it so the tape wouldn’t ruin the shiny material or your paint job.

You opened Spotify on your phone and placed it in your speaker-dock so you could listen to Christmas playlists while you worked. Eventually, you found your mistletoe at the bottom of the bin. You told Thor you were just going to the bathroom, but really you went into the bedroom and hid the mistletoe in your bedside table.

That night, you and Thor made cookies (from scratch, because you found an easy sugar cookie recipe online) for Santa, which, of course, you had to tell him all about. “It’s just a little snack while he leaves presents under the tree. You know, because leaving presents in every house all over the globe is really rough work and everything.”

“This is what you tell the children, right?” he asked. “I may not be from Midgard, but I do know that not everyone here recognizes this Santa Clause, nor does everyone celebrate Christmas.”

You knew he meant well, so you sighed and nodded as you mixed ingredients together. “Yes, Thor.” You flashed him a smile so he’d know you weren’t put off by his question. “Santa’s mostly reserved for kids. It’s still fun to make the cookies and eat them in the middle of the night to make it look like Santa did it instead.”

He placed parchment paper along a baking sheet and nodded in time with the music you still had playing. “I think Santa’s quaint,” he said, seeming genuine as his smile remained. “Although it is a little odd that so many people just accept a jolly round man slipping in and out of their homes for a night.” He pushed the baking sheet over to you before covering a second. “Still, it’s nice to have a unifying figure in whose honor we’ll eat these tonight!”

You laughed as you started to place little lumps of dough on the sheets.

While the cookies baked, you sat and watched more movies together. You put on Nightmare Before Christmas first, telling him that yes, it was both a Halloween and a Christmas movie and it had always meant to be both. Right after Jack made it to Christmas Town, you excused yourself once more to fetch the mistletoe. Then you brought it to the space between your kitchen and bedroom, dragging a chair along your - fortunately - carpet to stand on. You pinned the mistletoe to the ceiling so it hung facing down, then you put the chair back and even took the extra measure of flushing your bedroom toilet to make it sound like you’d been in there the whole time.

Thor didn’t say anything until the end of the movie. You barely missed him checking over his shoulder toward the bedroom, so you panicked, trying to keep the mistletoe a surprise as long as possible. You launched yourself across his lap, drawing his attention back to you.

“Do you need something?” he teased, and when you looked back and up at him, you saw he was smirking.

“I just…” You tried to think of something convincing to say, but all that came out was, “my legs were cramping.” You let your shins fall against the arm of the couch and tried to smile at Thor.

He rose his eyebrows and asked, “You’re sure this doesn’t have anything to do with the mysterious plant you’ve hung from the ceiling over there.” He pointed back at the mistletoe, his smirk widening.

Your head fell forward and hit the couch cushion next to him as you groaned. Of course he’d heard you put the thing up. He’d probably peeked then, and you hadn’t even noticed! You really should’ve gotten your step stool out instead of dragging a chair all the way across the room if you’d even thought about it a little bit.

Thor just laughed, though. He tapped one of your butt cheeks lightly, and you tried to bring your heel up to smack him in the shoulder, but you didn’t bend quite far enough. You ended up just kicking air, which Thor laughed at as well.

“Alright, alright,” you said, pushing yourself up off the couch. You slid from his lap and stood up. “C’mon. I suppose I have to explain the mysterious plant hanging from the ceiling.” You held a hand out to him, knowing he didn’t at all need assistance in standing. Still, he took your hand in his and then followed you around the couch and over to the mistletoe. You took a deep breath as he looked up at the plant, and then you dived in.

“Okay, so this is called mistletoe. It’s actually a parasite in nature, but this one’s fake anyway. It’s a Christmas tradition for two people to stand beneath it and share a kiss.” At that, he looked down at you, but he didn’t say anything. “I think that has something to do with it being used as a sign of fertility in ancient civilizations. Although, closer to you,” you pushed one pointer finger into his chest playfully, “it’s more of a sign of peace among enemies. So, I guess it’s generally just a unifying symbol of...mutual respect or something. Affection, in the case of Christmas.”

You pulled your phone out of your back pocket and checked the time, then smiled. You’d timed this almost too perfectly. “Which, by the way, is happening now.” You shoved your phone back, then put that hand around the back of Thor’s neck. You stood on your tiptoes and brought him down to you at the same time, and then you shared your first Christmas kiss with him.

He kept it short and sweet, pulling his lips back without moving anything else. His blue eye locked on yours as he said, “Merry Christmas, (Y/N).”

You pecked his lips once before returning, “Merry Christmas, Thor.”

You woke up early to put out a handful of presents beneath your tiny tree. Thor had placed some there when he’d first come over, so you had an idea of how many gifts to expect - not that the number mattered, really. It was just that he would wake up and see even more beneath the tree and, just maybe, understand what getting presents from Santa might feel like. All he had to do was suspend disbelief.

You added the final touch to the room quickly: you hung up the stockings you’d made weeks ago. Two red and green stockings went on the wall above your TV; one had your name on it and a few little glittery decorations, and the other said Thor with lightning made of glitter and glue all over. When you were satisfied with their placement, you went back to the bedroom and jumped onto the bed.

“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty!” you practically yelled, shoving Thor hard because you knew he slept like a rock. “It’s Christmas morning!”

He groaned, but when you shoved him again, he laughed and said, “Fine, alright! I’m awake!” He turned toward you, his hand going to the back of your neck so he could pull you down for a kiss like you had last night below the mistletoe.

You only let him kiss you for a few minutes before you pulled his hand down and tried to get him out of bed. “C’mon! We have to go see what Santa left you!”

He laughed, and you knew he’d go along with whatever you told him today. You were finally able to get him out of bed, then you dragged him into the living room to show him the tree. He did, indeed, remark that there were more presents beneath it than there had been last night.

“I told you Santa was magic,” you said, squeezing his hand in yours. You picked up the first present you wanted him to open, then gave it to him before going to grab some chairs to bring over to the tree. You opened presents one at a time, leaning over to kiss and thank one another in between.

Thor had gotten you a scar he’d seen you looking at whenever you passed a little boutique uptown, a copy of a movie you always talked about (he conceded and told you Tony had to help him track it down), and an ancient-looking, though in good condition, book of Scandinavian runes. “I know you like having some books for decoration,” he said. “Though, I do love the idea of you knowing more of what I do.”

You fingered the delicate pages tenderly, looking through the descriptions of the runes without taking in too much information at first. With a huge smile and a few tears in your eyes, you pulled the book to your chest and told him, “This is...really wonderful, Babe. I love it.”

You’d gotten him, among other things, an intricately carved charm of Mjölnir and a silver chain to hang it on. He studied the details in the charm silently for a few minutes, then he looked up at you and beamed. Just like you had with the book, he had tears in his eyes as he held tight to the charm. “Did you make this?” he asked.

You felt a little guilty, but only because you hadn’t made it. You’d found it on Etsy, actually, but you made sure to buy from a Scandinavian shop. You shook your head sheepishly and explained where you’d gotten it, and you noticed that his face never changed. He still looked proud and elated, and it made your heart melt.

“I love it,” he said. He unclasped the chain, then placed it around his neck and clasped it again. The charm hung around his neck when he asked, “How does it look?”

“Perfect, if I do say so myself,” you responded.

He sighed contentedly, then waved for you to come to him. You did, sitting on his lap as his arms wrapped around you. “This is the best Christmas I’ve ever had.” He kissed you quick, then said, “Thank you, (Y/N).”

Tags!

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Thor: @thewayilookatbacon @athorable-and-deanlicous @baileythepenguin @girlwhoisfearless @tegan-eva @mrsdeanwinchester19 @loverofthor @eyesfixedonthesun22 @rishlo @mjolnir-s @multi-fandom-imagines8 @sthorgestavenger @ineffabl-y @warriorsacrifice @pensysto @marvelous-super-soldier @virizona @jumpingmanatee

Drabbles: @athorable-and-deanlicous @esoltis280 @pensysto 

[cjwallflower]

Philip’s duel

Word Count: 2514 words

Genre: Angst

Warnings: TW, death, blood, swearing

Philip sighed as he looked up at the overcast sky. It was a boring day, but he knew tomorrow would be better. He was planning on proposing to his long term girlfriend, Theodosia Burr Alston, after 3 years. Philip smiled as he felt the small box in his pocket, but his smile dropped when he heard his father’s name. He turned to see a man he vaguely knew as George Eacker up on a parapet, preaching to a crowd, and abusing his father’s name. Philip grew angry and stormed over.

“Hey! What are you saying about my father?!” he yelled, silencing the crowd and even the man who’d been slandering his father’s name.

But the corners of Eacker’s lips turned up into an amused and all the more aggravating smirk. “Your... father?” he asked, placing a hand on his hip and sneering at the shorter boy, who glared more.

“Yeah. What. Did you say. About. My. Father?!” Philip growled through gritted teeth.

Eacker suddenly burst out laughing, as did a few others. “You’re telling me, that you’re the son of that cowardly, good for nothing piece of shit who doesn’t deserve to live?!” he asked, wheezing.

Philip’s eyes were ablaze, and he only saw red as he punched Eacker square in the jaw. The whole crowd went silent. “Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is, then?” he growled lowly, and Eacker glared.

“Let’s talk over there” he said, and dragged Philip away from the crowd.

Philip would’ve usually been intimidated by that gesture, but he was too fuelled by anger. He growled up at Eacker, whose jaw was now bruising. “You. Me. Tomorrow at dawn. For a duel of gentlemen” he said through bared teeth, but was more infuriated when Eacker had that same shit eating smirk on his face and nodded. Furious, he glared hotly at Eacker, and pushed past him, going home. He had a duel to prepare for.

The door to Alexander’s study slammed open. The aforementioned man looked up from where he was grading tests, and was concerned when he saw his son with a murderously angry look in his eyes.

Philip only uttered three words as he met Alexander’s eyes. “Where’s the guns?”

Alexander’s eyes widened and he shook his head, as if awakening from a dream. “What?” he asked softly, and flinched as Philip got more angry.

“Where. Are. The. Guns?”

Alexander realised he’d heard his son correctly and started to shake a little, honestly terrified. He pointed to a safe in the wall. “I-In the s-safe..” he managed out as his son advanced to the safe. “Ph-Philip, wh-what’s going o-on?”

Philip spun the lock, glaring at it. “A man named George Eacker was smacking you around in the streets. I challenged him to a duel.” he cocked a gun, clicking it into safety. “And I’m not going to lose.”

Alexander’s mouth fell agape and he stood up. “What?! No! You-“ he tried to reason with his son, but Philip definitely wouldn’t let up on this one. “Just because someone says something bad about me doesn't me-“

Philip cut him off by meeting his eyes. Tears of anger were streaming down his face. “No! He went too far dad, I’m not gonna let it slide!” he exclaimed, making his father flinch again. This was scarily unlike the Philip Alexander had known for 19 years.

A beat of silence resonated between the two as they stared into each other's eyes.

In Alexander's eyes, there was fear. People often died in duels if shot in a really bad area, and Philip was only 19. He didn't have training, and though he was definitely smart enough to figure it out, Philip didn't even know how to fire the gun. But then he read the look in Philip's eyes, and tears welled in his own.

Philip's eyes had so many different emotions in them. First, foremost, and most prominent was anger. He wasn't angry at his father for trying to stop him, but he was too angry at Eacker to be stopped. Secondly, spite. This one was subtle, almost nonexistent, as Philip was never spiteful. The only reason Alexander recognised it was because that look was no stranger to Alexander's own iris, and he suddenly knew how it felt to be on the other side of that terrifying gaze. Finally, there was a flicker of fear, and Alexander realised that Philip didn't want to duel Eacker, but he wasn't going to let anyone hurt his father's name. Not whilst he was alive, that is. Alexander came to the realisation that he couldn't stop Philip no matter how much he wanted to, no matter how hard he tried, and pleaded, and reasoned with his son. Philip was going out to those duelling grounds, and not even God Himself could stop him.

Alexander sighed, hugging Philip tightly. "Take my guns, be smart" he warned.

Philip hugged back, bearing a smile. "I'll make you proud, Pops."

"You always do."

The next day, Philip awoke before the sun peeked over the horizon. He contemplated resuming his previous sleeping state, but as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he sat up. The barrel of his father's pistol glimmered in the moonlight.

Philip got up with a soft sigh, looking in the mirror and smoothing down his wild curls and looking in the mirror as he got dressed. He slipped the small velvet box into his pocket, thinking to himself, 'I'm going to win this duel for the Hamilton name. I may as well if I'm going to bring another person into it'.

Philip pulled on his jacket, looking around and making sure he hadn't woken anyone up. He stopped in front of his parents' room, looking at them cuddling and sleeping peacefully. He smiled softly, sighing silently. "I'll make you proud, Pops. I love you, Mom. I'll see you after the duel" he whispered in the silence, and set off into the cold November dawn.

Eacker and his friend were there when Philip arrived with his friend and a doctor that both friends knew. George looked nervous in his eyes, but he still had that cocky grin on his face that made Philip's blood boil over. Despite his apparent anger, he attempted to be cordial with the man he'd soon shoot. "Mr. Eacker! How was the rest of your evening?" he asked, but glared when his attempted kindness was spat to the ground.

"I'd rather skip the pleasantries, let's go" Eacker growled.

"Fine by me."

Philip sighed as the pistols were mixed around and given to the men. Philip's friend looked at him. "Philip, can we just call this off?" he whispered lowly, but Philip didn't budge.

"Under no circumstances do you let him win this argument, got it?" Philip asked, and his friend sighed, approaching Eacker's friend.

As the two tried to negotiate, Eacker and Philip glared into each other's eyes. George was a little unsettled by the look of hatred, malice, and pure, unbridled rage in Philip's eyes, but George stood his ground like a man. In reality, Philip was more scared than Eacker, but his father had taught him the basics that he needed to know in order to win this battle. Both friends came back with the news that there would be no peace, and they were clear to duel. Philip took a deep breath as the men started counting to ten.

One.

Philip passed Eacker as they both took their first step. He closed his eyes, thinking about the advice his father gave him. 'Look him in the eye, aim no higher. Summon all the courage you require. Then slowly and clearly aim your gun towards the sky' Alexander's voice rang in his head.

Two.

Philip thought of said father, and how proud he'd be when he came home with his head held high. He'd pat Philip on the back, and tell him he did a good job. His father was already proud of him, but this would validate it even more. He smiled to himself. "I'll make you proud, Pops" he whispered.

Three.

Philip's mind flashed to his mother. She was already feeling down because of recent events. Most prominent of those events was grieving over the loss of her father, whom Philip was named for. A brief spot of doubt flashed in his mind. 'What if I end up dying in this duel?' he asked himself, but straightened up, nearly slapping himself. 'No. I'll come home for breakfast, and she'll cry with pride. I'm not gonna leave her.'

Four.

Philip then thought of all his younger siblings. He was the eldest, and when they needed someone to fight the monsters under the bed, he was always there. He was their brave soul who cradled them when they couldn't sleep, and sung them lullabies and told amazing stories during dinner. They all looked up to him, and he knew he'd live to protect them another day.

Five.

Philip thought about Aaron Burr, his girlfriend's father. Burr never liked him, and just tolerated his father. Philip was constantly threatened by Burr, and once almost lost his life due to a misunderstanding where Theo Jr had been crying over a book where an innocent's life had been taken, and Burr had thought Philip had hurt her. If he saw that Philip could hold his own, and defend against opposition, maybe he'd finally have Burr's stamp of approval. In that case, he had to make Burr proud, too.

Six.

Philip saw Theo Jr in his mind. The wind blowing her beautiful curls, the sun kissing her beautiful soft skin, her brown eyes sparkling in the sunset. He imagined her face when the moment came for him to get down on one knee. As he raised his gun to shoot to the air, he smiled. 'I have people to live for. I'm gonna win this. I'll make them all proud, and later, I'll propose to Theo, and it's gonna be so perfect. I love you so much, Theo'

Seven.

Eacker turned around and fired his gun.

Everything seemed to stop, the world stopped turning. The men stopped counting, the duelers stopped pacing, and Philip stopped thinking. Philip felt the bullet fly into side and get stuck in his right arm. He shakily looked down at the bullet wound, the blood oozing out, and he collapsed to the ground, quickly losing consciousness as the doctor rushed to his side.

The phone at the Hamilton household rang loudly, as Aaron Burr and his small family of three sat with Alexander in his living room, having tea. Eliza was still sleeping, so Alexander answered quickly before it woke his wife up.

"Hello, is this Alexander Hamilton?" asked a soft female voice. Alexander was uneasy.

"Yes, may I ask who's calling?"

“This is the receptionist at Orlando Hospital. I’m calling in regards to your son, Philip Hamilton. He has you listed as his emergency contact”

Remembering Philip had gone dueling, Alexander's eyes widened. "What's happened to Philip?"

The receptionist's next words felt like a spear had pierced his heart.

“He’s been shot in the side. We think it may be fatal”

Alexander dropped the phone in shock. Hearing the noise, Aaron looked over into the kitchen. "Alex? Alex, are you alright?" he asked gently.

Alexander turned to them, trembling with wide eyes that were welling with tears. "Ph-Philip's been.. shot.." he managed out.

Aaron's eyes widened and he jumped to his feet. "What?!" he asked. Theo Jr covered her mouth in shock, getting to her feet as well, tears pouring down her face. Aaron quickly pulled her and Alexander to his car to drive to the hospital.

As they approached the hospital, Theo tried desperately to wipe her tears, and she only had one thought on her mind.

'Stay Alive, Philip...'

The trio rushed into the waiting room, two of the three crying desperately. Alexander saw the doctor that had been at Philip's side at the time of the duel. Holding back a sob, Alexander rushed forward to see the doctor.

"Where's my son?!" he asked, gripping the doctor's shoulders. "Where the fuck is my son?!"

The doctor flinched, but recognised Alexander. "Mr. Hamilton, come in, they brought him in half an hour ago, he lost a lot of blood on the way over.

Theo ran over and joined them. "Is he alive?!" she cried desperately.

The doctor hesitated. “Yes, hes alive, but you have to understand, the bullet entered just above his hip and lodged in his right arm-“

Aaron cut him off, holding his daughter tightly. "We need to see him. Now."

The doctor led the three to Philip's room. "I’m doing everything I can, but the wound was already infected when he arrived" he said.

Theo sobbed into her father's chest. "Will he stay alive?!" she asked, but the doctor didn't answer her. If it weren't for Aaron holding her up, she'd have collapsed by now. It didn't help seeing Philip's blood splattered across the doctor's uniform.

They entered the room to see Philip in the hospital bed, festering and weak. He had a thin stream of blood leaking from his mouth, and his hands and clothes were drenched in his own blood, a terrifying sight to see. What was most unsettling was how leaking through the bandages was more blood, accompanied with a strange yellow colour. Theo cried and rushed to his side, holding his bloodstained hand. Philip's hazel eyes weakly opened. As he tried to talk, he choked out even more blood. He finally managed one word that broke Theo's heart when she heard his normally soft, cheerful voice now breaking as he lie on the brink of death.

"H...Hey..."

Theo sobbed harder, her heart clenching as she stared at him. Philip managed a weak, bloody smile, and he squeezed her hand, wincing in pain. Theo cupped his face gently, tears clouding her vision. "O-Oh... O-Oh dear god, Ph-Philip... Philip why..?" she asked softly, her heart aching as she stared at her dying boyfriend.

Philip's smile only widened painfully. “I-I showed h-him.. u-us H-Hamiltons.. w-we aren’t w-weak..w-we...aren't..c-cowards...” he whispered, closing his eyes.

Theo's eyes widened and she started sobbing. "Ph-Philip! No, don't go yet!" she cried.

Thankfully, Philip’s eyes opened a little. “I-I’m... still... h-here...” he croaked, coughing up more blood. Theo smiled softly at him, trying to stay calm. She couldn't control the flow of tears streaming down her face however.

Suddenly, the door burst open again. There, shaking and sobbing, was Eliza. “Philip!” she cried, hugging him tightly. Philip hugged back. “Wh-what happened? Wh-who shot you???” she sobbed.

“I-I.. got i-into a d-duel.. a m-man.. talked.. b-bad about.. P-Pops..” he managed out.

"M-Mom, I love you.." he wheezed weakly, and the room felt a bit brighter. He felt weaker. Lighter.

His pulse slowed to a stop, and the room was filled with sobbing.