#like in all honesty he was always seeking her out since the beginning because with her he doesn't need to pretend

[jazillia007]

I can't stop thinking about how Penelope praised Colin's writing. And it was actually smut, personal smut.

But I think what makes it beautiful. Despite of the content, Penelope really loved his writing in itself. The man barely gets praised by anyone but her.

And to be praised by Penelope who is not only a avid reader but also writer, is the biggest praise you can get.

[songmingisthighs]

Drunk on You

February Filth Fest - 5; San (drunken sex)

group : ateez

pairing : san × reader

genre : smut, slight angst ?

word count : 3.6k

warning : mdni, explicit sex; oral sex (f receiving), masturbation, rough sex

a/n : i'd like to personally thank @sanjoongie for prompting me to make this idea and requested for me to write this ! honestly, this is better than my initial san fff idea which was cheating and i truly blame the display picture you used on your discord topaz <3

buy me coffee ?

San didn't know why his mind was all over the place.

Again, he found himself at a club, drinking and dancing his feelings away with people surrounding him. And as per usual, he had the hottest girl in the club grinding her ass against his hardening dick and the more it harden. San barely stepped into the club before she threw herself onto him and yet it's not at all a surprise to San. It was actually expected and even borderline pathetically predictable. In all honesty, the conquest lost all its meaning to San due to this.

The pair stood out in the middle of the dance floor, people shying away from them as if intimidated. Their movements were synchronized and seemingly moving perfectly with each other even with their bodies enterteined with each other. There were reciprocation between the two as the harder San's grip on her, the harder she pressed whichever body part she can make contact with onto San. It would be so easy for San to score her. Truly, he wouldn't even have to throw any moves at her because at this point she was a sure thing.

But why was he thinking of you?

"I need a drink," San announced to the girl, not caring whether or not she heard him nor if she was following him. San leaned onto the bar and motioned to the bartender (whom he had become close with due to his frequency at the establishment) to bring him his usual as he fished his phone from his pocket. His fingers automatically seek your contact and he gazed at it, wanting to talk to you but not knowing where to begin. Or even what to say.

You both had been friends since university, you first befriended Yeosang who was adopted by San's best friend, Wooyoung in the middle of first year. Sexual tension was palpable between the two of you yet it took years for him to act on his interest in you. And even then, his interest was only on your body. You became his constant booty call for whatever occassion there is; birthdays (yours or his), hang outs, bar outing, wedding, wake, or even when his conquest turned to be a psycho and he still wants to fuck. The relationship you both had was... nonexistent. Even becoming friends with benefits was too much of a commitment for him and he didn't want to feel onligated to you. But you became the thing he go to for pleasure and that was always how he treated you without caring how you felt about that. Multiple relationships you were ruined by him either by deliberately making the guy you were close with very uncomfortable with how close he was to you or you breaking things off after San gave you hopes yet again only to latet shot you down after he fucked you.

Two weeks ago you told San that you wanted to stop whatever it was that you were doing because you wanted a real relationship with someone stable and dependable. Someone who puts your needs first and won't take you for granted, willing to commit and won't toss you aside when he's having a rough time only to come back the next day to get his dick wet. Well, you didn't actually told him you wanted to stop your little booty call arrangement but more like you asked him to be an adult and stop messing around pointlessly. So of course, San called you names and slammed the door on you angrily and didn't contact you whatsoever but neither did you (much to his disappointment).

So it's two weeks later and all he wanted was you. He suddenly didn't want to stay much longer in the club and just go back to you, spending time not just fucking but watching a movie, eating junk food, playing stupid card games, or even lying on your stomach as he ranted about his day. It never occurred to him just how intimate those activities are and how much he misses them. And you. Especially you.

So how can he get you back?

His alcohol-induced state typed the first thing that popped in his head and he sent the message without a second thought.

'I wanna come back to you'

'I miss you'

Moments waiting for your reply after the message was sent felt excruciating to him. The drink that would usually pump his energy and stamina suddenly brought him nothing but anxiety and longing. His head was running with the memories of having you in his arms, kissing you, praising you, devouring you, tasting you. Just the thought and the memories sent his dick straining against his jeans. How he wished he could touch you at that moment, being able to have his way with you.

When his phone vibrated, San had never looked at his phone so quickly in his life.

'You're drunk'

San ignored your reply and instead he opened his front camera and positioned it to capture his face from a lower angle. He placed his free hand on his chin with his pointer and middle finger spread to frame his mouth, his tongue peeking slightly from his plump lips and he snapped the picture. He sent it with the caption 'me between your legs'. Unlike before, he got his response within seconds. The three dots that constantly appeared and disappeared showed that you wanted to say something but you just didn't know what it was exactly you wanted to say. And San took that as a sign of agreement so he left the club, leaving behind the sure thing that kept calling for him as he made his exit.

The excitement of seeing you again pumped his adrenaline and soon enough he found himself in front of your apartment door, banging your door frantically as he pressed his forehead on the hard surface, enjoying the feeling of his heart thrumming for you. His heart beat at a slower pace but harder against his chest when he heard your footsteps approaching, the beat of his heart seemingly following your steps. It even momentarily stopped when your steps halted.

But when the door opened and San was met with the sight of you unsurely looking up at him, he couldn't help himself but cup your face and press his lips against yours, causing you to yelp in surprise. San took your utter surprise as a chance for him to push you inside your apartment, letting the door close on its own as he simultaneously took his shoes off.

You came back to your senses and pushed off of him just enough so your lips were separated, causing San to chase after your lips which resulted in you having to plant your hands on his chest to stop him from advancing.

"San, you're drunk!" You stated, worried that he wasn't in his right mind but more because you've missed his lips and you know you would cave if he said the right things. The alcohol made his skin flush and his lips bitter, but you were more drawn to the glaze in his eyes making them shimmer slightly under the light. San shook his head quickly and pushed your hands away so he could pull you flush against his body, "I'm drunk enough that it gave me courage to say and pursue what I really want but not drunk enough that you should feel bad for having sex with me," he simply stated before he pressed his lips against you again. The both of you had slowly advanced further into the apartment and just as you accidentally bumped into the doorframe of your room, you spoke against San's lips, "Who said we're gonna have sex?" The question was empty to day the least as you were in a dilemma between wanting San to take you like how he usually would and keeping with your words of wanting to have the chance to be with someone who's serious about you. "Because," He started with his lips trailing down your skin to the juncture of your neck, "You're here and I'm here, and you want me and I want you, so it'll be stupid not to do something about it," San's hands followed the downward movement of his lips and in one swift movement, San had your sleeping shorts and panties yanked off and dropped at your ankle. You gasped and tried to push him away, but the man was stronger than you.

In a swift, he pushed you into your room and turned the ceiling lights off in favour of your desk lamp. He loved the way the shaddow and the light played together, dancing and illuminating your figure as he have his way with you. It became a cue for you as well as every time San switched your lights, you know what would happen and you immediately became aroused as if on cue.

San carefully peeled the rest of your clothing off of you, as if he was unwrapping a gift with the most delicate touch and careful movements which helped him take all of you slowly, drinking you in. You simply let him do what he wanted with you because no matter how much it hurt knowing that there's a chance he might never want to commit, you'd take any and every chance to be with him however he wants. Because despite his shitty treatment towards whatever relationship you both had, he had always handled you with so much care in physical terms even when he was being rough with you.

Once you were bare in front of him, he pushed you down to your bed and you landed with a bounce. You supported yourself on your elbows to look down at San who was taking his shirt off with one swift move that honestly made him look hotter and somehow the way he unbuckled his belt and let his pants drop was satisfyingly simple. San then settled down with his arms hooked under your legs, pressing on it forward and open to eat your cunt like a starved man. A strangled moan left your mouth at the lack of warning of the incoming pleasure. It had only been a relatively short time since San had touched you again, and by God, you didn't know how much you actually missed him until you felt him devouring you again. The vacant period proved to have given your body quite some time to rest free of your usual erratic pleasure or maybe it was just being deprived of it and now that it had a taste again, it's seeking more. Your eyes screwed shut as the feeling took over your body from simply San's tongue and your thighs tried to trap his head but his hands that were holding your legs apart wouldn't let it.

"Baby, God, baby," San moaned as he took your nub between his teeth, gently tugging on it just enough to send you squealing. "I fucking miss you; your voice, the sounds you make, your face, body and your cunt," San shuddered slightly at the mention of your cunt, his breath tickling your flesh and you were betting that you were dripping onto the sheets, "God, I love your pussy and your sweet taste." He momentarily lifted his head to look up at you, chin dripping with your arousal and eyes so lust clouded that the pupils were dilated and his orbs turned into glittering black, "Squirt on my face, okay?"

Then he dove right back, this time his hands were off of your thighs with one hand accompanying his lips, his middle and ring finger from his left hand that had left its initial position on your thigh. Your breath hitched and your back arched from the utter pleasure San was giving you continuously. It was too much for you to bear but the pain was too good, the burn in your body was too good, and San's hold on you was too good. San moved with such expertise, despite his fervent movement, he was never sloppy. His mouth and finger accompanied and complimented each other's movements well, the pleasure was overwhelming but not awkward. It effectively brought you close to a climax and San could tell from the signs given away by your body; every squirm, twitch, and sound were signals to him. Having a specific goal in mind, San continued his ministration with additional pressure of his tongue and his fingers moving in and out of your hole even more quickly than before. "San-" you choked out, head thrashing as you felt yourself reaching the edge with shaky thighs. You tried looking down on him only to have your eyes widened to the size of saucers when you saw San's right hand jacking himself off as he ate you out. Your pussy clench at the realization that San was getting turned on by eating you out. San detached his lips from you and delivered a slap on your cunt that resonated through the room. It was as if he had pressed a release button because you found yourself cumming hard with a high-pitched moan. Your state of euphoria brought a smirk to San's lips because he was one-half away from his goal and now he's so close.

Taking your bliss to his advantage, San dove right in to overstimulate you, this time the hand that he used to finger you pressed onto your lower stomach rather hard as the other moved on hid length even faster. The only thing that was holding you open for him was his broad shoulders but even then, it was hard for you to shut your legs. "N-no, God! I- I can't-" tears started to brim in your eyes, the overstimulation built up even more than you thought it could and it was almost painful. The pressure on your stomach was no better as it only make you feel like you were about to pop. Your head was swimming at this point from the restraint of your legs, San's determination to make you squirt, and your utter surrender to the man. You swore you blacked out momentarily but you could feel your body spasm as liquid gushed and squirt out of your cunt. Had you been fully aware of the situation, you would see San with his face to your cunt, eyes closed as he let your juice drench his face as his cock let out spurts of his cum on your sheets, ass clenching from pleasure and hips stuttering with his cock twitching. San was revelling in his effects on you, completely drunk from your taste as at this point the alcohol didn't do as much as what you were doing to him. You took a moment to look down at him; the look in his eyes that with the redness from being drunk seemed very intense contrasted by the relaxed and even proud look on his wet face. Even when he wiped his face with the shirt he discarded, he still looked at bliss.

When he let go of your legs, your body fell limp onto the mattress, your body wasn't moving and you were in a daze. Your body was buzzing and your skin was warm and slick with sweat from cumming so hard in weeks. It was hard for you to reintroduce oxygen fully back into your lungs and it was harder to do so when San suddenly flipped you on your stomach. You could feel San's hands trailing up your back, the soft pads of his fingers trailing up the skin of your back followed by his soft lips pressing reassuring kisses along following his fingers. "Baby, I need to be in you right now, okay? I can't wait anymore," he groaned, grinding his hips up to your ass, his cock felt hot, sticky and rigid on you but you weren't disgusted. In fact, you were turned on, you wanted him to pound you like a bitch and you were glad he seemed to be in a hurry as well.

With a last kiss to the side of your cheek, San pulled away and pulled your hips up, letting them prop by your knees as he positioned himself. The tip made direct contact with your hole, and as soon as it did, you felt something drip out of you. The mess you made allowed him to slip inside very easily, it didn't take much for you to immediately accommodate his length. In San's words, he had fucked your cunt perfectly for his dick, you have been ruined for every other man. You tried to brace yourself but your arms couldn't bear much weight so you resorted to crossing your arms in front of you and resting your head on them in an attempt to make sure that you would be able to still breathe.

San started his thrusts at a rather faster pace. His hands anchored on your hips as he penetrated you powerfully. Your eyes screwed shut at the feeling of his dick inside you and you were fully expecting him to use you as nothing but his boner reliever. But based on your experience from years of being San's booty call, this time it felt different. Usually, San would only focus on getting himself off before getting you off just to get the pleasure of knowing that he could make you cum. This time, there were emotions involved, and his thrusts felt more... human while usually, it was more frigid, distant, and even machine-like. The grip of his hands felt possessive like he wasn't just doing it to ground or anchor himself, it felt like he was holding onto you. Maybe it was his alcohol-induced state but San was showing so much more emotion than he had ever did in the past. And it made your stomach churn in a good way.

His hand moved to grab at your thighs when he began to move even faster. You were moaning his name loudly as your hands clench the sheet from the sheer pleasure. The way you were saying San's name was like music to his ears, he had never quite realized how good his name is coming out of your mouth, it even sounded melodious. You calling his name seemed to trigger something in him because before you know it, San was holding you so close and so tight, abusing your hole with his cock, that the lower half of your body was levitating. The gravity put pressure to your chest, constricting your airway a little that made your head dizzy from the lack of oxygen. Plus, the internal feeling of being on cloud nine paired with the external experience of half floating did indescribable things to your brain.

Meanwhile, San's eyes was rolled to the back of his head. His mind was buzzing with alcohol and you. The new position allowed him to reach deeper into you, letting him feel all of you and he loved it, he was reveling in it. The way your cunt clench when his cock hit the right spot, the obnoxious squelching sound from your cunt as proof of his effect on you, and the pretty, pretty noise you were making with your mouth. God, he could never get enough of you and he wouldn't want to get enough of you, it was always more more more and more. San's hands gripped tighter on the flesh of your thighs, trapping it in a possessive vice has his body made up to both you and him for the two week absence.

You didn't even realize when you came until you felt something gushing out of your pussy, the liquid spraying San's abdomen and rolled down your stomach to your chest, creating a cold slick trail that made you squirm. In San's grip, your legs shook a little as you climaxed and the sudden movement caused your limbs to fall off of his grip. As your body fell back to the bed, San's cock slipped but he was quick enough to pump himself zealously, not wanting to lose momentum and he came on your skin, painting the expanse of your ass and back with his white cum that seemed to continuously spurt from his cock. A soft gasp left your lips and the muscles of your back tensed when you felt his cum landed on you.

That was it. From your past experiences, you know that he'd at the most clean his cum off you and then leave your apartment. You closed your eyes and waited for the sound of the door closing, trying to gather your strength to get to the bathroom and clesn yourself before you start your self depreciation over how stupid you were to fall for his words again. Truly, you were mad at yourself.

But the feeling of a warm, damp towel running over your back forced your eyes to open. Your head whipped to the back to see San concentrating on cleaning his cum off of you. He looked so serious with his eyes narrowed, eyebrows furrowed, and bottom lip between his teeth. The towel was gliding on your skin ever so softly, the most gentle of caress as if you could break if he was being too harsh. It felt nice though, having him take care of you like that. You might not know what or why he was doing what he did, nor if his words were merely drunken jabber or if he was being genuine with you. At that moment, all you could do was close your eyes and just enjoy, hoping that when you opened your eyes, he won't leave again.

fff taglist :

@senpai-of-doom @doom-fics @kawennote09 @cherryxsang @ssaboala @k-drizzle @stfuayu @fariylixie0915

@prettyshawni

[cjonesjr]

・﹒・ from vault 32 [1]

Summary: You got approved for a marriage partner from Vault 31 after not finding a suitable boyfriend in your own. After meeting your future husband, and standing ready to saw your vows, you both agree to call it off. But they couldn't not have a wedding- so you chose his cousin.

Warnings: 18+, arranged marriage

Pairing: Norman MacLean x GN!reader

Notes: Yes I love him and Cooper I am a man of many tastes. Also this was too long for 1 part so I broke it up. Where my Norm lovers at???

Parts: 2

Today was the day- you were getting married! Despite not dating much, you were excited yet equally as nervous since your new spouse was someone completely unknown to you. Sure, you had crushes here and there, but all the guys here were so...boring?

Nothing about them were interesting to you, they were all the same, so that led you to seeking out Vault 31 for someone. This was completely normal so it wasn't odd, if anything, it was just a matter of time. Well, the time came and was now just moments away from seeing your soon to be husband.

"We're so proud of you...we'll miss you but, just know that we we'll always love you" Your mother sniffled as she adjusted your appearance here and there, ensuring that you were as perfect as can be. You assured her that you would visit once a year and that everything was fine. You, your family, the overseer, and few other dwellers of your vault who you knew stood outside of the entrance to 31, and you were nervous. Then, the door slowly opened.

There he was, standing in the center just like you were with your vault members. He was tall, and attractive, but you didn't know what to even say. Then, your friend bumped into your shoulder as a sign to say something as everyone else was silent, anticipating you and your future husband to say something.

"Um...hello" That was not the ideal first impression, but you couldn't help it! You could hear your friend groan from the awkwardness, which was understandable.

"Hi, I'm uh...Chet. You can call me Chet! Haha...yeah, Chet" Either he was having an off day or he didn't seem too interested in you. Was there supposed to be some sort of spark? Because you know you didn't feel anything and it was obvious that he didn't either. Awkwardly laughing along with him, internally cringing, your graze drifted over to the much shorter man beside him.

Oh he was cute. Shorter than you, but he had short, black hair and all you could really describe him as was cute. Why couldn't you have been paired up with him instead? Your eyes and his eyes both met and only then did you feel that spark. But before you could fully process what that means- their overseer ushered everyone to their vault so the wedding can begin.

"Hi...Chet. So...excited? Nervous?" You tried to make small talk as you walked beside him, but it was if everyone around you could sense that this wasn't going to work out.

"Well...if I'm being fully honest, I was put up to this" He leaned closer and whispered in your ear, the honesty caused you to gasp but then you realized that you needed to be secretive as he whispered it to you.

"Oh...but why?" You whispered back, slightly concerned. Your gaze drifted back to the shorter man standing on the other side of him and you caught him staring back at you.

"Well uh...I may or may not have a crush on my cousin, Lucy. So they uh...thought this would help me get over it. Namely her father, the Overseer" Turning back to Chet, you just stared at him as that was...unexpected, to say the least. Clearing your throat from how awkward it got. you didn't feel bad about not marrying him anymore. Stealing another glance at the shorter man, you looked back at your arranged husband and he looked back and forth between the man and you.

"Ok- either I'm stupid or do you guys like each other?" You slightly jumped as he was suddenly louder than before, causing a few heads to turn in your direction before facing forward again.

"Chet!" The black haired man scolded him and hit his shoulder, causing Chet to say "ow".

"This is Norm, he's my cousin and Lucy's younger brother" Chet smiled as he introduced the man who you fell for far too quickly, you awkwardly smiled at him and he did the same back.

"Hi Norm, nice to uh...meet you"

"Nice to meet you too..."

"What's going on?" A girl with long, dark hair whispered from the other side of Norm, curious of what you were all discussing.

"Nothing, Lucy!" Chet and Norm both yelled in hush. So that's Lucy... After that- you made small talk about some things from your lives and before you knew it, you were on the small stage ready to say your vows, looking at him and he was looking back. But you both knew that this wasn't going to work out in the slightest. Staring into the crowd mixed with his family and yours- you found Norm looking back at you. His expression seemed...pained, almost. Did you both genuinely fall for each other while you're marrying another man? Like sure he was really cute...but you just felt drawn to him in a way Chet wasn't.

"Do you?" The sound of the officiate shook you from your thoughts as you looked back, humming to have him repeat it.

"Do you take him to be your lawfully wedded husband?" You stuttered as you stared at Chet, he looked as equally as worried about this, not wanting to go through with it. So you said the first thing you thought.

"No"

[eddiediazismyhusband]

Wait was edy confirmed to have been filming last night??? PLEASEE WHEN CAN SHE JUST BE GONE

I don’t think she was 100% confirmed to be filming last night or not in all honesty- I blocked her transphobic ass a while ago so the only information i get about her whereabouts on set are from what i’m told by other people, but i think the big theory going around right now is that she always posts after others post about being on set, and people think she may be piggybacking trying to make it look like she’s there when she actually isn’t… of course this is just a theory and like i said i blocked her. a while ago so i don’t see her posts to confirm nor deny the plausibility of this, but knowing her attention-seeking attitude i wouldn’t put it past her.

And i would not fear too much anon, actors are often contracted for a specific number of episodes, so her being there does not mean her days aren’t numbered. Obviously we don’t know anything for sure, but I have my own theories- we know the time that she posted herself crying on her story and then started talking about auditioning again was around the time the show was picked up for season 8, so obviously contracts would begin being discussed at that time. My personal opinion is that she was told then that she would not be returning for season 8, and that is what sparked this attempt to stay relevant in the fandom (following cast members she never followed before, constantly posting about being on set and how “thankful” she is to have a job, interacting with people bashing the show for being “too gay,” etc.) to me it all reads as someone who is desperately trying to cling to the quickly unraveling thread that is her place on that show and it’s only a matter of time before she’s gone.

i mean ryan himself called her a ‘filler’ relationship for eddie. even the plotlines she’s been involved in this season she’s barely been there. eddie was quite literally on the verge of breaking up with her in 7x5 before his advice to buck made him decide to simply start over their relationship. My theory now is that “ghost of a second chance” has a double meaning of us seeing the ghost of a past relationship that eddie is still grappling with (maybe shannon, maybe someone else…. an old “army buddy” perhaps who he had never really understood his feelings for?) while also pertaining to the “second chance” he gave their relationship being dead. I mean the man brought his grandmother who lives in texas to his coworker’s wedding, and he barely trusts her with his kid (christopher is always being watched by someone else, he says things like “she’s already babysat this week” as if watching your significant other’s children is a burden to her) and like i said he was on the verge of ending things in 7x5…. i think it’s safe to say that their relationship is bones, and there’s no other logical direction for them to take it in, considering the fact that marisol is barely a character anyway, the fans don’t like e*y (for good reason), and they know that if they try to keep her on they will receive backlash (which we know tim sees after the karaoke debacle)

i am fully preaching to the choir here, because i have massive anxiety and the constant stress of speculating about where eddie’s (and buck’s) story goes is something that always runs my nerves up a wall… for reasons i won’t get into, eddie is a character i relate to deeply and i want to see his storyline handled with care and attention, so while the idea of the show sticking him with something as lackluster as marisol (played by a problematic untalented actress) obviously makes me stress out too, i try my best to remind myself just how little sense narratively it would make sense to keep eddie with marisol, since she is a wash rinse repeat of every romantic interest he’s had before- something they keep bringing up in eddie’s story as a bad thing.

so stay strong, dear anon… the light at the end if the tunnel has not gone out— there are things happening that none of us know, and it will do us no good to focus on the possible negative outcome when the positive outcome seems so much more likely in this situation.

Sorry to completely hijack your ask into an explanation of eddie, but if you know me you know i’m obsessed w the man so 🤷

Thank you for the ask, anon! 💕💕

[galraluver]

pls do 4 galrans of ur choice writing a loveletter!

Sure thing 🥰 I intend on making this as cute as possible 💕😊

_________________________________________

~ Thace ~

~ Thace is a little bit of a hopeless romantic like Ulaz, but unlike Ulaz he's not always the best at expressing his romantic interest for you

~ He loves you more than life itself, so he decides to attempt writing a love letter as a way to confess those feelings for you

~ While he writes the love letter Thace lets the words come from his heart, just as he would have done if he was confessing his feelings for you in person

~ He had only one chance to write a love letter to you and he wanted to do it right, he ended up obsessing over it for nearly a week

~ He felt that writing a love letter shouldn't have taken so long to write, and yet by the time he perfected it he was still hesitant to give it to you

~ Ulaz has to give Thace a pep talk before he leaves the envelope containing his love letter to you in front of your door

~ In the end, you reciprocate his feelings and within a week the two of you become a romantic couple

_____

~ Ulaz ~

~ Ulaz is a hopeless romantic and a complete sweetheart even though he acts stoic and a bit distant when others are around, but when it comes to you, his true love, he wants you to know how much he truly loves you

~ One of the most romantic things a person can do at the beginning of a relationship is write a love letter to their true love, so that's exactly what he does

~ The two of you can't be together all the time yet because of his position amongst the Blades, so writing love letters are his way of being intimate with you whenever he's away

~ Obviously there's no mail service in space, so he has Keith deliver the letters to you

~ He writes down how he feels about you in the most personal, sincere, meaningful way possible that will have you swooning as soon as you read the letter

~ While Ulaz writes the letter he writes poetically from his heart and re-reads each sentence after he finishes writing them to make sure there's no grammar mistakes and that nothing sounds cringey

~ Writing a love letter is the most heartfelt way one can express their feelings for someone they love deeply

~ Ulaz knows that you'll absolutely love the love letters he wrote for you

~ And you do; they're the most romantic thing you've ever read and you do your best to write love letters in response

~ Until you and Ulaz are permanently reunited with each other, you both send each other love letters that you both save for momentum

_____

~ Ezor ~

~ Honesty, Ezor could just tell you that she likes you since your bedroom is right across the hallway from hers aboard Lotor's main ship, but she wants to do something really cute and she decides to write a love letter to you

~ Of course, she takes her time to write it to make sure it sounds sincere, genuine and very loving

~ Ezor isn't really good with poetry and ends up asking Lotor for advice because she's not necessarily the best at long declarations of love

~ Lotor helps her out because she's one of his oldest friends and he wants to see you and her end up as a couple

~ Ezor doesn't have as much patience as her teammates, she really likes you and she just wants to tell you

~ She ends up confessing her feelings for you in the love letter just to get it over with

~ It would crush her if you didn't reciprocate her feelings, at least with the love letter she wouldn't have to face that rejection in person

~ In the end, after you find the love letter in front of your bedroom door, you seek Ezor out and the two of you end up together as a romantic couple

_____

~ Ladnok ~

~ Since Ladnok is a high ranking commander in the galra empire she has the privilege to take anyone as a romantic partner, even a servant

~ Ladnok likes you more than anyone and she thinks the two of you would be a good match for each other, and she can tell that you have a slight crush on her, so her way of letting you know that she's interested is by writing love letters to you

~ Writing a love letter to someone is a very serious thing; Ladnok takes her time to write the first one since she wants you to know how she feels about you, but at the same time she doesn't want to come on too strongly

~ Ladnok makes sure to include how much she truly values you as a person rather than a servant, the last thing she wants is to accidentally make you think that she's taunting you

~ Usually interspecies relationships are looked down upon in the empire, although since both you and Ladnok are women it's more accepted

~ Honesty, Ladnok felt a little nervous when she wrote the letter because she was expressing her feelings for you on paper, she just wanted you to know how much she liked you

~ Once the letter is complete and perfect Ladnok gives the letter to you personally

~ After you read the letter you swoon, and it isn't long before you accept her offer to court you

[ria-777]

There is not enough letters in the alphabet for me to tell you how much I love you

F - Failure

Shiro would be so disappointed in him.

He entrusts the entire team in his hands which results in all of them getting hurt.

How could he let them all down by making a mistake that almost killed them?

They told him it wasn't a good idea. Their situation was becoming way too dangerous. They weren't ready. They were completely surrounded.

Keith didn't listen, ordering them to keep fighting.

And as if the universe was trying to mock him, they all ended up in healing pods.

All except him.

Forcing the newly named black paladin to watch in defeat the people he cared the most for as they stood there, unconscious.

Keith really felt like the most pathetic being.

*******

What would her mother say?

She leaves her all alone in search of the missing members of her family and yet, Pidge still has no clue where they might be even after all this time.

Nothing to prove they might still be alive.

At first, seeing Shiro alive brought back the hope she was beginning to slowly lose. Even though they had been separated, she knew her brother and father had it in them to survive. To fight.

But now, with their leader gone...

She didn't want to think about it.

*******

Lately, taking out her anger on training bots has become a habit of Pidge's. It may not be the healthiest way of dealing with inner turmoil but, it was enough for now.

Punching, kicking, dodging, hell, even taking a hit released the huge amount of pent-up stress she had to handle on a daily basis.

It was the middle of the night, usually, only Shiro would have been awake at such time. Actually, now that she thinks about it, there was also-

"Pidge, what are you doing here?"

Keith.

Quickly, the girl finished off her opponent. "I could ask you the same question." His eyes refused to meet hers. She thinks she might have heard him mutter something like "bored," but she couldn't be certain. In all honesty, the green paladin was exhausted. And even if that was what he did say, Pidge wasn't sure she'd believe him.

"Well...care to join me?"

Surprisingly, he did, and the night after, and many more. It kinda became an unspoken rule between the two. If one of them walked in during one's training session, they were always welcome to join.

Not too long after, it became a habit for one to seek out the other. Not only for having a training partner, but someone to hang out with.

If their teammate noticed the sudden shift in their relationship, they stayed silent.

*******

Should I say something?

Ask what we are doing?

What am I to him?

What am I to her?

These questions plagued both of their minds, but neither dared to act on it, worried that it might destroy whatever they had going on.

What had initially started as training buddies was changing. To what? Who knew?

At first, Keith would show her way to perfect her techniques while Pidge helped him Black more.

Then, when the tension between the inhabitants of the spacecastle became too high, they would stay together in their rooms or hangars.

And now, every time after they were done exercising for a long period of time that Shiro would for sure reprimand them for, they would shower and meetup -usually in Keith's room since it was cleaner- to rest their exhausted muscles and go to sleep. Cuddled close for warmth, knowing no nightmares will manage to make its way into their brain.

So yes, they had become in a way addict to the other's presence. And yes, neither understood what it meant to them, what was that emotion in their hearts.

But it was fine for Pidge, it made her feel more comfortable than she had in a while. Having someone who she knew could rely on her gave that sentiment of being accomplished.

Once, Keith had doubts, it didn't take long for the girl to realize and ask about it. "You don't feel forced into this because I'm now the lea-" "Of course not, don't be stupid."

It ended there.

Whatever this was was never discussed.

But tonight, Pidge had enough, it was time she said something. Spending most ticks of the day in his company, knowing there was more was becoming too annoying. Like an itch she couldn't scratch. Nobody was stopping her, so why hasn't she done anything yet?

"Hey Keith." He hummed as a response. She could feel the vibration as her head rested on his chest. "You're not a failure."

From the sound of his voice, she could tell he was smiling. "Thanks, neither are you."

For a few movements, they relaxed in silence as Pidge was finally beginning to fall victim to slumber. On his side, Keith was wide awake. What she said wasn't much, but it was enough to bring back a bit of the confidence he was losing more and more every day.

How could a few words affect him so much?

That was a stupid question, the answer was oblivious. It was because she said it.

He looked down at her closed eyes. "P- Katie. Still awake?" They stayed close, but the slight nod of her head told him she heard.

"You mean a lot to me, I'm not really sure what it is; however, I can recognize that without you, my life would be even messier than it currently is... Ok that's not true, I now understand what I feel toward you, I'm just scared that I ruin everything we have. I don't know if you see where I'm going with all this, but please just hear me out before you decide to leave. You're not obligated to reciprocate at all, I want you to know. Being next to you all the time and imprisoning this secret in my heart is slowly killing me..."

With his rambling, Keiht didn't even sense Pidge move. It was only when he brought his eyes back in her direction that he realized her face was centimetres away from his.

"I like you too silly. No need to panic."

Wordlessly, the black paladin's hand made their way to her face, holding it gently. "Can I?" He truly sucked speaking out loud what his heart really wanted to express. It was fine though, she would forever understand what was unsaid.

How did he get so lucky?

Pidge closed the distance between them. The kiss was short, but both were so tired. They still had tomorrow and the following day, until the rest of their lives.

"I love you Katie."

*******

(Posted on ao3 and Wattpad)

[darklydeliciousdesires]

The Dream - Chapter Twenty Five.

Double update time today, besties! I kind of want to get the posting of this done with so I can have a break, also from noticing interest beginning to wane slightly. I totally get it, people are busy (I bloody know I am right now!) and we all have lives to lead outside of the fandom. But yeah, I guess that’s my fault in that it makes my insecurity rear its ugly head, making me question myself when I notice people quietening. I’m not seeking any empathy or anything like that, I’m just speaking from a place of honesty.

I know I need to improve, and I will. I’ll be taking a break from longer stories after this one to go away and do just that. @withmyteeth​ gave me some truly superb advice on where I needed to improve, so I’ve been taking that on board with writing. I’m feeling positive I’ll be able to come back better. 

Thanks to those of you who continue to engage, though. You’re very sweet and I appreciate you. You’re the ones I want to do better for, not just for myself! 

Previous chapters - Prologue  One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine  Ten  Eleven  Twelve  Thirteen  Fourteen  Fifteen  Sixteen  Seventeen  Eighteen  Nineteen  Twenty Twenty One  Twenty Two  Twenty Three  Twenty Four

Tag list - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed (note: those not engaging will be automatically removed from the tag list, FYI)

Words - 2,380

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

“What?”  

She truly hadn’t expected the decibels of his reply, especially not since he’d done so well in her being away for three months, but Keri’s revelation that she would only be home for eleven days before jetting off to Ireland for Luke’s sister’s wedding, well, it didn’t go down well with Angel. “You’ve only just got home!”

“Baby, I know, but it won’t be for long. Five days includes travel time,” she began, leaning back against the units in the kitchen. “I leave on Wednesday, Saoirse's wedding is on the Saturday, and I’ll be home the following Monday. It really isn’t a big thing.”

“But you only just arrived back, and now you want to go away again?”  

Oh, god. “I thought we’d dealt with this, Angel.” Her attempt to placate him was met with hostility, Angel throwing himself out of the chair at the kitchen table, stomping towards the door. “Come on, you’re being silly now. You always knew I’d travel with my work.”

“You’ll be with him again.”

Her brows furrowed. “Him?”  

“Yeah!” he yelled, pulling his phone out as he stuffed his feet into his boots. “This asshole!” Turning the screen of his phone, he showed her a picture she’d uploaded to her Instagram, a selfie she’d taken with Dolores, Roisin and Luke, three members of the band, Roisin and Luke kissing a cheek each, Dolores crouched beneath her chin, winking while bobbing her tongue out at the camera.

Keri couldn’t believe her ears. “You seriously have an issue with Luke? Roisin is kissing me, too, but you’re strangely quiet about her being an asshole! Then again, she doesn’t have a dick, does she?”

He was quiet then, reloading his retort, but Keri gave him no chance. His girlfriend was a mild-mannered sweetheart, but boy, if somebody put a match near her gas tank... Boom. Especially if they were casting aspersions. “Do you really think you have anything to worry about? Angel, we’re been together for eight months now, you know who I am. Do you really have me pegged as a cheater, or are you looking for an excuse to blow up just because you don’t want me going away again so soon?”

“I trust you, not him.”  

This wasn’t anything to do with Luke, and she knew it. This was his abandonment issue, rearing its ugly head, Keri realised, reaching for him. He pulled from her, though. “I gotta get to the yard.”

She shook her head in confusion. “You told me you had the day off?”

“Yeah? And you told me I mattered. Not enough for you to stick around long.” The slam of the door behind him vibrated the frame, Keri sighing, considering going after him. He likely needed to cool off, so she left it. In leaving it, though, she felt the agitation pouring through her veins, deciding to do something about it. Angel wasn’t a messy guy, but still, his house got the once over, everywhere smelling of polish, cleaning spray and fabric freshener once she was done, looking over at her suitcase.  

Clean clothes were a must.  

The laundromat was two blocks away from the weed shop, so with all of her dirty clothing items set on a hot wash, Keri trudged down in search of a friendly face, taking coffee and some doughnuts with her, too. She was greeted by all the warmth she needed, Sharise shrieking in surprise, rushing out behind the counter. She only just about had chance to place the items she carried down before receiving her beautiful friend in her arms, the girls embracing tightly.  

“I missed you so much!” she cried, holding Keri’s face in her hands, kissing her cheek.  

“I missed you too, lady,” she replied with warmth, rocking her in her arms, kissing her head as she pointed to the coffee and doughnuts. “Break time?”

“Let me just get these guys sorted and I’ll be right with you.” A half ounce of blueberry kush and an eighth of AK-47 later, and Sharise was free to join Keri in the back room, seating themselves in the former’s small office.  

“So, how is it being back?”  

Keri finished her mouthful of doughnut before replying. “I’m currently fighting the jetlag, still being on Australian time means my body thinks it should be asleep right now, but I’m doing what everyone says is best and just trying to keep busy, power through it. And it was going really well, until this morning when I revealed to Angel that I’m going over to Ireland again in eleven days' time to photograph a wedding. He blew up at me massively. I thought we’d gotten past that, with how well he’d handled it while I was away in Australia.”

She went on to detail the ins and outs of their argument, Sharise listening intently before weighing in. She knew she had to walk a fine line, what with Angel being her family but Keri also becoming a close friend. A little confliction rooted within her, but sipping her coffee, she chose honesty in the end. “Listen, he did handle it well, I was proud of him, but his sheen wasn’t quite as bright without you here. He missed you, he’s so in love with you and all he could do was count down the days until you came back to him.  

“However, that doesn’t mean he was right to explode at you, or accuse that Luke guy of anything nefarious, but like you say, he only likely did it to try and legitimise his abandonment issues, and not want to bring it back to those again. I think you did the right thing in letting him go cool off, because he’ll know he’s been an ass, but he won’t want to immediately admit to that. You’re right, too. You can’t put your life on hold for his comfort levels, so he’s gotta deal with it.”

Keri nodded, slumping in her seat a little. “I thought he already had, and that’s what kicks me in the guts most about it. He doesn’t need to feel so threatened by me not being around. I wish he’d settle and realise that just because there’ll be times when I’m physically far, my heart is always with him.”

“See, that’s the thing with Angel. He isn’t used to having a girlfriend with that kind of lifestyle. I mean, if he and Lucy had gone the distance, it would have been the same. She’ll likely have to do book tours once her cookbook comes out, she’s very ambitious just like you are, but for Angel, he almost can’t separate that. I think it’s because his own life has been so firmly rooted in Santo Padre. He likes the idea of having someone who’s always there for him, and the idea of them not being so frightens him, brings up everything about his mom’s death,” she explained, Keri nodding deeply.

“I know, and I do feel bad now for yelling at him. Underneath the veneer of big, bad outlaw wolf, he’s a little wounded cub, and I want to make that better for him, but he has to help himself, too. He can’t just explode and think I’ll change my mind because he’s being difficult. I won’t. I love him, he’s the absolute love of my life, but I won’t put that life on hold just to make him feel more secure.”  

It was a tough situation to be in and Sharise sympathised, advising that she should at least try and talk to him again once he returned home later, but that ultimately, she was right. It was Angel’s issue to deal with, not hers. After Keri left to go and pile her laundry into the dryer, Sharise quietly thought to herself that her brother-in-law truly did need to sort out his mess there, because Keri wasn’t the kind of girl who would placate him forever if he continually threw distrust at her, no matter how much she loved him.  

While Keri was sitting at the laundromat awaiting her clothes to dry, she sat and contemplated much the same, a realisation hitting her. This truly was the obelisk, but god, how she hoped it wouldn’t be a fatal disagreement. The saddest part was, though, that she realised only too clearly if Angel couldn’t get his head straight with the idea of her being away from him, it likely would be. She couldn’t handle it, him berating her because of his own insecurity, especially if he was only prepared to overcome it for short periods, before reverting once more to entertaining what her being away stirred within him.

It filled her with nothing but dread, knowing that if this continued, she would have no choice but to walk away from him. It was a bitter pill to swallow, for she loved him with her entire heart, but she saw no choice if he didn’t want to get better, or let in room for healthy growth where his insecurities were concerned.  

Tears prickled her eyes, Keri wiping them quickly, not wanting to draw attention to herself at the instant heartbreak that trying to imagine a life without Angel in it had stirred, reaching for her phone, seriously contemplating for a few moments whether she should contact Luke and tell him she couldn’t make it. She stopped, though, realising that if she did, Angel would know that an outburst would be all it took in the future in order for her to toe the line for the sake of his comfort.  

No matter how much she loved him and wanted to ease his insecurity, she couldn’t do that.  

She wouldn’t do that.  

He was a grown man of thirty-six, her a young woman of twenty-three. He needed to be the one who did better, without her placating him. After her clothes were dry, she loaded up the huge IKEA bag she’d bundled them into, heading home and ironing everything, placing them away in the wardrobe and drawers before fixing herself a late lunch. As much as she tried to stay awake, putting on a Netflix documentary she’d been waiting to have the time to sit down and enjoy in full, she ended up asleep on the sofa, not waking until 9pm.  

Angel still wasn’t home.  

Calling him, the phone rang out, so she sent him a message, asking when he’d be home. By eleven thirty, she could see he’d read it, but hadn’t replied. She tried calling again, the call being cut dead this time after three rings. So, he knew very well she wanted to talk to him, but this was how he was going to deal with it.  

‘Angel, please come home, or call me. We need to talk about this. Love you xx’ The message was read within minutes, but by 1am, he still had neither returned to her or replied.

“Well, this is on you if you’re choosing to behave this way.” The next thing she did was to call up her browser and book a ticket to Utah for the following day. If he wasn’t going to even try with her, then she’d just leave him to it for a while, go and spend some time with the people who she’d missed just as much as she had him, give him time to figure it all out. She didn’t want to spend any further time away, but the fact that she lay alone in bed all night without him returning didn’t give her a lot of options.  

It was 6am when he finally returned, looking worse for wear, his eyes violet with tiredness, his face sour. Especially when he saw her suitcase packed again by the front door. Hurt flashed his eyes as he turned to view her sitting on the couch while he pointed at the luggage. “Where you going?”

“Home,” she replied simply. “If your idea of us fixing this issue is to ignore me and stay out all night, then I’m not gonna stick around to be treated like that. You obviously want some time away from me, Angel, so I’m going to give you that. I don’t want to, I’ve missed you so much and all I want is for us to talk about this, but I think you’ve made your feelings clear there.”

His face darkened, sliding his kutte off and hanging it up, shrugging. “Fine.” The word slipped from his mouth like a biting frost, glaring at her before he walked to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. She could have cried, but she didn’t, following him into the bedroom to retrieve her bag and cell. “Keri just fucking leave me alone.”

“So that’s it, huh? From your perspective, this is how you want to leave things between us?”

He turned to her, his glare fixed in place. “You’re the one doing the leaving.”  

She was staunch in her reply, sighing, closing her eyes tightly for a moment in an attempt to gather herself. “And you’re the one giving me no choice by refusing to talk about it. Angel, I love you so much, but I’m not going to put my life on hold just to make you feel comfortable. You’re a grown man. You really, really need to resolve this within yourself. Me leaving you isn’t me abandoning you. I’m always coming back, because you’re worth coming back to. Because I want to come back to you. If you can’t figure that out or accept it, then I don’t know where we go from here.”

“Apparently you go home.”

“Yeah,” she scoffed bitterly. “Apparently I do.”  

Picking up her bag and cell, she left, her flight not due to depart for three hours, feeling like she had no choice but to leave early. She didn’t want to, every fibre and bone of her being wanted to go and cuddle up to him for an hour before she had to leave, but she couldn’t. He didn’t want her to, much preferring to stew in his own ridiculous handling of the situation.  

The tears she’d successfully managed to hold onto in the house came as soon as she pulled off and drove down the street, wondering truly if that was it for them.  

She hoped to god that it wasn’t.

[ginnyweasleymybeloved]

summer breezes / george weasley

hi crew :) idk why i wrote this but i was in a george mood so here we go ;)

summary: george acts like he hates you, he doesn’t really hate you. you act like you hate him, but you don’t really hate him. chaos ensues.

slight neville x reader for a second

word count: 6.9k

warnings: swearing, george being mean, lil angsty, fluffy at the end, reader’s house is not specified <3, mentions of food, kissing

let me know what you think ;)

“And what do you expect me to do? By the time I’d even realised I was falling I’d already landed face first on the proverbial concrete,” you groaned out in exasperation, while your best friend looked at you with so much distaste that anyone would’ve thought you’d murdered his family pet.

He shook his head, a scowl as clear as day splashed across his lips as he reprimanded you for your heart’s foolishness, “Of all people…” he scoffed in disgust, “Honestly, Y/n.”

“You know, you shouting at me isn’t going to fix anything,” he rolled his eyes at your statement and racked his eyes over your disheveled state. You’d obviously been battling with yourself over your—unfortunate—crush for some time. As your best friend, Ron Weasley knew he’d have to soften up on you eventually, but honestly, it was your own fault for falling for one of his disastrous siblings.

You were currently sprawled out on Harry’s bed, across from the red-headed boy you’d known since you were in nappies, your arms hanging off the edges of Harry’s four-poster. Neither you or Ron had a clue where Harry, or Hermione, had disappeared off to today. Harry was probably on the quidditch pitch practicing while Hermione haunted the library, you supposed as you listened to Ron’s rantings, wishing they’d been there to mediate.

“—of all of my siblings too! You couldn’t have picked, oh I don’t know, Charlie? Or Fred even? Merlin, even Ginny! But no! You just had to go and bloody fall for the only Weasley who actively cannot stand you.” You only caught that portion of his rave, having gotten lost in the idea of being coddled sympathetically by Harry or Hermione. You adore Ron, really, he’s your loyalist and longest friend, but Merlin was he a total drama queen.

“Charlie is five years older than me, Fred is my wingman and honestly, I snogged him on a dare last summer and I wasn’t that impressed and in case you’ve forgotten, Ronald, Ginny is dating Harry,” you lectured, ignoring how he rolled his eyes as you continued, “Also I’m well aware that he hates me. You don’t need to keep reminding me.”

His composure cracked after hearing your depressed mumble, and with a sigh he moved from his spot on his own bed and made the short trip over to Harry’s. Ron gently pulled you into a sitting position on the edge of the mattress and sat himself down next to you. He let out a heavy sigh, still slightly shaking his head—he couldn’t seem to stop—, then he dropped a heavy arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side, finally offering you the comfort you’d been seeking out in the first place.

“S’alright, Y/n. Maybe he’ll get hit in the head with a bludger and forget he’s hated you since he was four.” Ron encouraged, very weakly.

You released a sigh of your own at that, “I feel like I’m betraying myself here. Like I’m letting that stupid git win.” Ron couldn’t stop the laugh he let out at your grumble.

“I’ll be honest, I thought he’d be the first to crack. You can be quite scary when you get going.” Ron divulged, shuddering at the memories of when he’d been on the receiving end of your rath.

Your family and the Weasley family had been extremely close since before you or Ron were even born, which meant you’d grown up alongside all of the Weasley children. Of course, because of your ages you and Ron had been attached at the hip as infants and remained that way even now, late into your fifth year of Hogwarts. Most of the Weasley children simply adored you, as you did them. However, there was one boy who, for whatever reason, hated you to your very core and as far as you could remember; he always had.

He is none other than the younger of the two twins; George Weasley. Despite the fact that Fred was actually quite fond of you, his twin refused to warm up to you in any way, shape or form. No, the tall and annoyingly attractive boy had made it his life’s mission not to get along with you, but instead, wage a war on you that spanned for the entirety of your childhood and adolescence.

“When did things change? When did it stop being a challenge? When did it start affecting me like this? I used to take his insults like a champ! I used to get him back worse!” You wondered out loud, letting your head flop onto Ron’s broad shoulder as he let out a puff of air through his nose.

“You still take it like a champ, numpty,” he chastised you gently, recoiling ever so slightly when you lurched forward in complete defeat. Your hands shot up to cover your face as you rested your forehead against your knees.

“No! I don’t,” you murmured dejectly, lifting your face from your hands to make eye contact with Ron. “Do you remember the other night in the Great Hall? When Neville told me he thought my hair looked pretty? And George, out of bloody nowhere, comes over and says and I quote, ‘I wouldn’t waste your time on this one, Longbottom. You’d have a better time kissing that toad of yours.’ Do you remember that?” Ron raised an eyebrow and nodded in confusion, your voice seemed to be steadily rising in octaves as you recalled the events of the other night. He had to admit, it had been an unusually unnecessary comment on George’s part, but the youngest Weasley boy wasn’t really sure where you were going with it.

“Well do you remember how I had said, ‘how’s that girlfriend of yours, Georgie? Figured out a way to make her stop being invisible yet?’ and then remember I rushed off? Do you wanna know where I rushed off to?” You pressed, watching intently as Ron nodded his head, unsure if he even wanted to know. “I went to the bathroom and I cried! I cried, Ron! Over something George bloody Weasley said to me!”

His eyes widened at that. Never once had George ever managed to properly upset you.

“And over something as small as that? I’ve heard him say a lot worse to your face.” Ron said in disbelief and you nodded, expression mimicking his as if you couldn’t believe it yourself.

“Right? And it’s like everytime he says something mean to me now my stomach drops and it actually hurts,” Ron regarded you softly, his eyes sad while he rubbed your back as you buried your face in your hands yet again, “Do you know what’s worse though?”

Ron opened his mouth to hazard a guess but no sound escaped as he drew nothing but blanks.

“I actually care what he thinks of me now. As if I actually value his idiotic opinions of me.”

It was at that moment that Harry entered the room sporting muddy quidditch gear and a confused expression, “May I ask why we’re having a heart to heart on my bed?”

Ron shrugged, continuing to rub soothing circles into your back as he told Harry mournfully, “Y/n likes George.”

“Merlin.” Harry whispered, as horrified to learn of your crush as Ron had been. “But, Y/n, he hates you! I mean he really hates you-“ the chosen one was cut off by a pillow making contact with his face. Ron had chucked it at him the second he felt your form begin to shake beneath his touch.

“Bloody hell, Harry! You’ve gone and upset her even more!” He whispered harshly. Harry quickly set his broom down and plopped himself down beside you, leaving you trapped between himself and Ron. The green-eyed boy rested his cheek against your lightly shaking back and managed to snake his arms around your torso.

“Sorry. Shouldn’t have said that.” He told you genuinely. “Should we go and find Hermione?”

You only shook your head. Embarrassment quickly overtook you as you realised your were crying in front of your two best friends over George fucking Weasley.

“No. No, I’m okay. It’s fine,” you sat up and hastily wiped your tears away.

“It’s okay to be upset, Y/n,” Harry spoke softly, squeezing your middle in a short hug, getting mud from his quidditch practice all over you.

With a resolute shake of your head you stood up and faced the boys, who each looked at you with pity filled eyes, then you spoke as steadily as you could, “I’m not upset. He hasn’t upset me,” you weren’t fooling anyone, really. Your eyes were bloodshot, your cheeks and nose were red and your voice was slightly hoarse when you spoke. The boys entertained you anyway, nodding in agreement.

“I’m telling you this as his brother and your best mate; you can do better.” Ron told you honestly, he wasn’t lying either, you were the type of girl who could get any boy she wanted without lifting a finger. Well, not any boy—obviously— but that wasn’t anything to do with you. Ron had his suspicions in regards to why his brother acted like such a knob towards you, however he’d been thrown off his scent recently when the older ginger stopped being mean to you teasingly in favour of being just plain mean.

You gave Ron the best smile you could muster at his words, “You are absolutely right, Ronald.”

Harry snorted before making his way over to Ron’s trunk, he rifled through it for a few seconds before pulling out one of Ron’s jumpers. He casually tossed, what you recognised to be Ron’s Christmas jumper from Molly, over to you with a grin, “Put that on. I got muck all over you.”

You had plenty of your own Christmas jumpers made by Molly Weasley but they were all the way over in your own dorm. Besides, you liked stealing the ones made for the boys as they were usually far too big for you which made them extremely comfortable to wear.

So you happily pulled the maroon jumper over your head, the wool effectively covering your dirtied t-shirt.

“Oh yes, by all means, you two just work away.” Ron grunted sarcastically. In all honesty, he didn’t care if you stole every piece of fabric he owned, if it made you feel better, he couldn’t care less.

“Right,” you said, making your way to the door of the dorm room, “I think I’ll go for a walk before the sunsets, calm myself down a bit.”

The boys nodded, “See you at dinner?” Ron asked and you gave him a smile and a small nod of confirmation before you set off out of the Gryffindor common room.

Thankfully, you didn’t run into George on your way out. You walked peacefully through the gardens and behind the greenhouses, it was around five in the evening and the sun was beginning to stoop low behind the tree line. The days were beginning to take on a chill as October approached quickly, you’d gone out without grabbing a jacket and you couldn’t deny that you were beginning to feel the cold nipping at your skin despite Ron’s jumper. Pulling the sleeves further down your wrists you carried on, trudging forward through the fallen leaves of the garden, you weren’t ready to go back inside yet. Going back to the castle meant you’d have to look your problem in the face, literally. You settled on the fact that you’d rather endure the physical cold rather than the emotional coldness you were sure to receive from George at dinner.

When you’d reached the back of the third greenhouse you could faintly hear someone humming to themselves and a soft smile found your lips when you saw who it was. Neville sat on a chair in the greenhouse, right by a plant that you hadn’t a clue what it was called, seemingly humming the little tune for the plant in question. Despite his undeniable clumsiness, there was something about Neville Longbottom that soothed you greatly. He has a good soul and his heart is usually in the right place, even if his head is sometimes screwed on slightly loose.

Gently, trying not to startle him you knocked on the closed door of the greenhouse before you opened it and walked in, “Hi, Neville. Mind if I join you?”

Neville blushed slightly but nodded his head, “Course! There’s a spare chair just there,” he pointed nervously to the chair. Once you settled yourself beside him, he let himself relax slightly.

“What sort of plant is this?” You asked him curiously. You really liked plants but you weren’t the best at keeping them alive, Neville though, seemed to be something of a green thumb.

He beamed at your question and quickly began to explain everything about the plant before you. You didn’t absorb a lot of it but listening to Neville speak so freely, something he rarely got to do amidst the other Gryffindor boys, filled you with a sense of serenity. Between his voice and the light wind that blew against the glass building, you’d completely forgotten about your red-headed problem.

“—sorry, I’m probably boring you. My nan says I have a tendency to ramble.” He cut himself off, cheeks heating up as he rubbed the back of his neck bashfully.

With a small giggle you only shook your head at the brown haired boy, “You’re not boring me at all! I quite like listening to you speak,” you admitted although you felt a bit silly after saying it out loud. Neville seemed to grow even more flustered after the words left your lips.

His eyes searched your face for any sign that you were teasing him, but all he saw was your kind eyes and comforting smile. Not exactly sure about what to say to you, Neville made an observation, “You’re cold.”

You gave him a nonchalant shrug, “I’m okay.”

Completely unsatisfied with your answer, Neville shook his head in protest and shrugged off his jacket. He was used to spending a lot of time in the garden so he was usually sporting far more layers than necessary, just in case. “Here, wear this. You’ll catch a cold otherwise,” he fretted and you didn’t have the heart to turn his offer down, you didn’t want to turn it down either, you were absolutely freezing. Gratefully you accepted the jacket and wasted no time in pulling it on.

“Thank you, Neville,” he looked you over for a moment, you could tell he was debating with himself on whether or not to speak, after a long few seconds of his eyes running over you he spoke.

“You look nice- I, uh, the jacket. You look nice in the jacket- I mean, the jacket looks nice on you-“ another giggle left your lips and effectively put the boy’s fumbled ramble to an end.

“Again, thank you, Neville. You are unbelievably kind.” You told him sincerely, quite enjoying the blush that adorned his cheeks.

“We should probably head back to the castle for dinner now. It’s gotten dark,” Neville said, standing up after giving his plant a loving pat.

The walk back to the castle with Neville was nice. The pair of you chatted idly about school subjects and house drama, but you had to admit, you weren’t paying a huge amount of attention to the conversation.

“Thanks again for lending me your jacket,” you said sweetly, shrugging the jacket off as you reached the main hall of the castle.

Neville, who seemed to be in a perpetual state of bashfulness, took the jacket back gently, a rosy blush painting his features, “It was no problem, really.”

Neville had always been incredibly kindhearted, sometimes to his own detriment. He treated people with respect and never turned anyone away if they needed help with anything at all. He is sweet, honest, loyal and, whether you liked him or not, he is indisputably adorable. And you found yourself thinking about how entirely better your life would be if your heart had chosen Neville to have a romantic fondness towards.

After separating from Neville, you made your way towards the Great Hall. On your way you bumped into Fred Weasley, who surprisingly, wasn’t accompanied by his twin. He greeted you with a wide smile and, as he always did, he ruffled your hair.

“So! I have a proposition for you,” the look on his face as he spoke was nothing short of wicked, a pit of nerves began to form in your stomach with the way his eyes were lit up excitedly.

“What are you proposing?” You encouraged exhaustedly. Whatever it was would probably end with you running from Filch.

Fred lopped his long arm around your shoulder, effectively pulling you along with him as he walked in the opposite direction of the Great Hall. Any chance of you getting fed this evening had gone out the window the second Fred clapped eyes on you, you’d made your peace with it. “I’m glad you asked, princess- “ at the sound of the pet name you let out a guttural groan.

“Freddie, please, I’m not in the mood to help you make some poor girl jealous just so you can get a snog,” you whined weakly only for the boy to ruffle your hair and tug you closer to his side.

“Let me finish! As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” he paused to glare at you jokingly and you smiled apologetically, “I have a plan to make George stop acting like a prat.”

A disbelieving scoff left your lips, “Yeah that’s likely,” Fred laughed and pinched your cheek lightly before carrying on.

“Angelina told me that she heard you crying in the girls toilets the other night,” he informed you. Your eyes widened in shock and confusion, you didn’t think anyone was in there with you and you also couldn’t piece together what your moment of weakness had to do with Fred’s master plan. “And before you start, I know it’s because of George.”

“That’s ridiculous, Fred.” You lied, unconvincingly.

Fred laughed again, it was a gentle laugh that let you know he hadn’t come here to tease you but to help you, “I know it’s ridiculous and that’s exactly why I know you’ve been so down in the dumps the last few days.”

“Besides,” he started again when you remained silent, “Why else would Ron be giving his brother the silent treatment?”

“What does any of this have to do with your plan?” You asked, eyes sad and heart heavy for the second time that day. You’d only just managed to get the whole thing out of your mind, and yet, here it was again.

“Well I happen to know why George acts the way he does,” you met him with a raised eyebrow and a bored expression.

“Because he hates me, I know.” Fred’s lips grew into a wicked grin and he shook his head, coming to a stop in the middle of the hallway.

“That’s where you’re wrong. He doesn’t hate you,” he lowered his lips to hover right by your ear before he whispered quietly, “He loves you.”

With a roll of your eyes, you pushed the boy away, fixing him with a hard stare, “Come on, Fred. That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking!” He exclaimed desperately, “We were in potions making amortentia, yeah? And Slughorn called George up to tell the class what he smelled and do you know what he said?” Fred retold madly, knowing full well that this was possibly the only opening he’d get to make the two of you realise your own feelings. Fred was well aware that you developed a crush on George, he picked up on it the second you began looking crestfallen when hit with a snide remark from his twin. He knew long before now that George had loving feelings towards you too, but their recent potions class was the only hard evidence he had to support his theory.

You shrugged helplessly in response, and Fred grabbed your shoulders and looked down at you urgently, “He said it smelled of cloudberries, daisies and-this is a direct quote-‘summer breezes’,” you stared at him numbly, not exactly sure what to say as the description did match the perfume you’d been wearing regularly since you were thirteen.

“That’s you, Y/n!” Fred confirmed and you pulled your lips between your teeth before shaking your head in complete denial.

“Lots of girls wear that perfume-“ Fred cut you off, ruthlessly.

“Name one.” You racked your brain but you genuinely couldn’t name another person who wore the same perfume as you. “You can’t, can you? Because it’s your smell!”

“Ok fine! So it’s my smell, what exactly do you expect me to do with this information?” Fred rolled his eyes in exhaustion at you.

“Blimey, you’re as daft as he is sometimes, do you know that?” Fred ran his hands down his face in exasperation before looking at you softly, “I except you to come with me so we can drive him mental for a bit and if he gets nasty I’ll embarrass him because I’m an incredible brother.”

You let him lead you towards Gryffindor Tower all while complaining about how you were starving only for Fred to hush you each time you let out a hungered whine, “We can raid the kitchen later on, love,” he promised and you sighed in defeat, “That’s the spirit.”

When the pair of you entered the Gryffindor common room, George was already there, probably waiting for Fred to return it. He sat one one of the sofas that faced the fire, completely relaxed and you hated the fact that you thought he looked amazingly ethereal with the way the flames from the fire lit his skin in an orange glow.

He hadn’t noticed you yet and Fred took notice of this. The older twin subtly slid his hand into yours and intertwined your fingers with his before turning his head and shooting you a mischievous wink. Fred Weasley was a nightmare, but when he was on your side, he never failed to make you smile.

Accepting that whatever Fred was about to drag you into would result in nothing but chaos you took a deep breath and followed Fred over to the sofa.

“What is she doing here?” George practically seethed, despite the intensity of his glare, you didn’t miss the nervous look he shot in Fred’s direction. What you had missed, though, was how harshly he’d clenched his jaw upon noticing your intertwined hands.

You decided that tonight you’d play the game slightly differently, if what Fred was saying was true, it would make things all the more entertaining. So, instead of your usual menacing glare and ego-shattering insult you met George with an innocent smile, “Was just hanging out with Freddie, thought I’d come say hello,” you said, sitting in the middle of the two twins.

George stared at you suspiciously, “Hello. That all?”

“Hi. No, actually, I think I’ll sit with you for a while. If that’s okay?” Fred was smirking from his spot beside you as he watched George’s face contort.

“You’ve never wanted to sit with me before.” He told you, squinting his eyes and trying to decipher what you were up to. He couldn’t lie to himself, he definitely wouldn’t mind you staying so close to him for a while, however he’d also sooner die then let you think you had the upper hand.

His and your composure cracked simultaneously at your next sentence, your truthful and somewhat vulnerable mumble of, “Well, you’ve never given me a chance to.” He knew you were right so he didn’t say anymore, opting to shift his gaze to the roaring fire, trying his best not to let his mind linger on the fact that you were wearing his brother’s jumper. His nose perked up at the scent that drifted from your spot, unusually close to him. There was no doubt in his mind that he’d fancied you for a long time, but, there was also no denying that he’d done a perfect job of making you hate him. Yet, as much as he wanted to just cut the crap, tell you that he thinks you’re the most insufferably beautiful girl he’d ever seen and kiss you and never ever stop, his pride would never allow him to cave. Especially not when you challenged him so effortlessly.

“So how come you were headed to dinner so late anyway?” Fred piqued up, growing tired of the lack of hostility between yourself and his twin.

“Oh. I was sort of worked up earlier so I decided to go for a walk ‘round the greenhouses. I bumped into Neville and I suppose I just lost track of time,” you explained halfheartedly.

Fred let yet another smirk overtake his face, “Longbottom, eh?” He wiggled his eyebrows and you let out a short giggle while shaking your head, sure, it would’ve been a good topic to tease George with, however, Neville was simply too sweet to be used as a pawn.

“Don’t get me wrong, he’s very sweet. But he’s just a friend,” George looked almost satisfied with that answer, his usual scowl making an appearance once again.

“He could do better.” It was a barefaced lie. Neville couldn’t do better than you. In fact, George was of the firm belief that nobody could do better than you.

“Of course he could, he’s quite the charmer,” you spoke wistfully, finally giving Fred the show he’d been hoping for, as you egged George on.

George pretended to think for a moment, “I’m sure he is. Personally I think you’d be more suited to Filch, although, I’ve heard his standards are quite high.”

You took the boy by surprise when you laughed, the airy giggle left your mouth had such a profound effect on George that he almost wished he’d kept his mouth shut. His heart was leaping and there were butterflies beginning to form in his stomach, he physically had to will himself not to stare at you in awe when your eyes turned to meet his. The glow of the fire only aided in showing him how gorgeous those stupid eyes of yours are. “Mmm, yeah I suppose I should lower my expectations,” you paused briefly and mimicked George’s earlier motion of pretending to mull over your options. Your next action had Fred practically howling with laughter.

“You’re available, aren’t you Georgie?” You’d asked in a mock sultry tone, leaning towards him and lightly brushing your hand down his arm. Loving the way he choked on air you got up from the sofa, not before shooting him a wink, and sauntered towards the portrait hole, “I’ll be in the kitchens. See ya later, sexy.” You directed the last part at George, who looked as though he’d been frozen in time as Fred’s laughter grew in volume.

Upon entering the kitchen, the house elves had fussed around you, handing you food at any given opportunity. You had finished eating a while ago, you were currently nursing a hot cup of tea while chatting away to one of the house elves, only to be interrupted by someone else entering the kitchen.

He set his sights on you and quickly moved to the seat across from you, a look of urgency on his face that reminded you of Fred, “Whatever he told you. It’s not true,” you raised an eyebrow, sipping your tea uncaringly.

“Mind elaborating?” You asked tiredly.

“Fred.”

“Thank you, George, very clear and helpful,” you grumbled sarcastically and the boy let out a huff.

“You were acting different. You know something. What did he tell you?” George demanded through gritted teeth and you only deflated against your chair. It always boggled your mind how everyone described George as the nicer of the twins.

Not answering, you decided to start asking your own questions, “Can I ask you something?”

“Seems like you’re going to no matter what I say,” he sighed out as an elf pottered up to him and handed him a cup full of hot tea. He took it gently and thanked the elf with such sincerity that you wished you hadn’t seen the exchange, simply because it stung to know he’d never treat you with that level of sincerity.

“Why do you hate me so much?” He sat frozen for a second. Your tone of voice took him by surprise. It was needy bordering on desperate, nothing like he’d ever heard you speak before, not to him anyway.

George took a sip of his tea and shrugged as if the question was a stupid one, “I don’t.” A cold, humourless laugh came from you in response, the kind of laugh that made his stomach drop.

“Bollox. I’m being serious, George. Tell me what it is about me that makes me so insufferable to you!” You exclaimed, heart rate increasing and tone raising in octaves as you felt yourself growing more upset by his reserved expression.

George let out a heavy sigh, the jig was about to be up. You were upset and merlin was he tired of pretending that he didn’t want you in every way, shape and form.

“Do you really want to know?”

“Yes.” There was no trace of hesitance or uncertainty in your voice, at this point you didn’t care what the answer was you just had to know.

“Fine,” he said all too casually and you knew by his tone that he, as per usual, wasn’t taking you seriously. “I don’t hate you. The only insufferable thing about you is how annoyingly gorgeous-“ you cut him off right then, with a scoff of pure disbelief.

Shaking your head rapidly, you stood from your chair and all but stormed out of the kitchen. His footsteps began to echoed behind you a few corridors later, he would’ve caught up to you sooner had your response to his would be confession not left him completely immobile. He called your name but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop. Tears stung your eyes and you absolutely refused to let him know that he’d managed to bring you to the point of tears. Not that it was the first time.

“Bloody hell, Y/n! Hold on would you?” He called, finally getting close enough to reach out and grab your wrist. He spun you around to face him and quickly placed his hands on your upper arms to stop you from doing another runner. When he took you in he swore he’d never hate himself more than he did the moment he looked at you to see your eyes filled with tears, small drops escaping and carving a trail down your cheeks while you sniffed miserably.

“What?” You snapped, hostility the only thing you felt like offering the ginger in the moment. His brown eyes bored into yours with so much intensity but they held something you didn’t recognise. They looked sad, almost.

“I wasn’t making fun of you.” He stated honestly but you furrowed your eyebrows, your eyes set in a glare.

“Then what were you doing?” You croaked, letting your tears fall freely as the damage was already done. The sinking of your stomach and the tightening of your chest didn’t do a thing to ease your mind as George’s hands squeezed your arms.

He licked his lips quickly, he felt they’d become unbearably dry, and then slowly, he let his hands trail down your arms and took your smaller hands into his own. He hoped you were feeling the same electricity he was when he touched you.

“I’ve been a prick to you. You didn’t deserve it and I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere, but you second guessed him. For all you knew it was just some elaborate prank, Fred was probably in on it too.

When your gaze didn’t soften, he continued to speak, “So I understand why you wouldn’t believe me when I tell you that I don’t hate you. But I just-“ he cut himself off with a heavy sigh.

“You just what?” You squeaked when his eyes spent a moment too long observing your lips. You hardly had time to register the feeling of his hands leaving yours before they were cupping your cheeks instead. “What’re you doing?” You wondered, completely dazed by the way he stared at you. His warm hands holding your face causing your stomach to jolt in an entirely different sensation than before. As much as you wanted to push him away and tell him to shove his apology, you couldn’t help but take him in. His lips were parted ever so slightly and his cheeks were flushed, probably from chasing you through the castle, his hair was disheveled and merlin he looked like he wanted to kiss you.

Your question floated in the air, completely unanswered. Next thing you knew his lips were on yours. He kissed you as if you were oxygen and he’d just been drowning and you couldn’t help but move your lips harmonically against his too. Your hands clutched his wrists as he continued to cradle your cheeks. In all honesty you weren’t sure at what point he’d backed you against the wall, or at what point his tongue had entered your mouth or when exactly his hands had migrated to your hips, yours now tangled in his hair. His body was pressed flush against yours and the small groans he’d let out when you tugged at his hair or ran your tongue against his made you realise that you couldn’t care less if this was one big prank or joke. It was happening and that’s all you cared about.

Even as he reluctantly pulled away, he chased your lips with several shorter kisses before separating entirely. He rested his forehead against yours, his guard completely down now as he admired your swollen lips and heaving chest. The feeling of your fingers in his hair made it nearly impossible for him to keep his lips detached from yours, “You’ve no idea how many times I’ve thought about doing that.”

Your eyes searched his face for any sign that he was lying, when you found none you finally let yourself smile. A similar smile formed on George’s face, “I meant what I said earlier. I really do think you’re annoyingly gorgeous,” the boy silently praised himself when you let out a cute giggle.

“You’re quite cute too. When you’re not running that massive mouth of yours,” you teased although you weren’t really joking, to your surprise George let out a bellowing laugh before placing a fluttering kiss against your lips.

When he pulled away again he looked around the hallway, as if he only now realised where he was. Luckily nobody was wandering the halls since curfew was fast approaching and the unwelcoming cold that occupied the hallways left little reason for students or staff to be out and about. George slid his hand into yours again, this time intertwining your fingers with his. He gave you a hopeful glance and asked, “Do you wanna go somewhere?”

You nodded your head and let him tug you into one of the abandoned astronomy classrooms on the upper floor of the castle, Filch rarely ever patrolled up there which is why George decided on it. As well as that, since the classroom, which had been out of use for a good few years, had been used for astronomy the ceiling was bewitched to reflect the night sky.

George hadn’t come to this particular class in a while but thinking on his feet he remembered the cupboard at the back of the classroom used to hold blankets, he remembered when the classroom had been in use during his first year, students would be all but freezing during the winter, so they’d stocked the classroom with blankets to be brought out during the colder months.

He made his way over to the cupboard and grinned happily when his hand landed on a rather large woollen blanket. The material was scratchy but it would do for what he needed it for. He grabbed one more blanket from the dusty press before he made his way back over to you.

George suppressed a chuckle as he watched you, your face completely turned up, watching the stars on the ceiling with awe in your eyes. He busied himself with laying the wool blanket out on the bare floor, the room was devoid of tables and chairs so he didn’t have to worry about finding a space. Once he was finished, he plopped down on the blanket and expectantly patted the empty space beside him, “Come on then, sit down,” he urged and you finally tore your eyes away from the charmed ceiling.

A small laugh left your lips when you settled yourself down beside him, he wasted no time in covering the pair of you in the second blanket. With an exaggerated sigh he laid back and waited for you to do the same, he turned on his side to face you when you did. In contrast to earlier, George had an air of nervousness about him as he deftly took your hand and began playing with your fingers, not meeting your eyes. “Just out of curiosity,” he began quietly, making eye contact with you now, “What exactly did Fred tell you?”

His question forced a somewhat smug smirk to crawl onto your lips and you couldn’t help but take the opportunity to tease him. You leaned up on your elbows and twisted slightly so you could look down at him, trying not to waste too much time admiring the view, you answered him, “Oh, nothing really. Your lovely twin just happened to mention that you had a very eventful potions class the other day…” you trailed off, biting back a smile as he groaned.

“Mhm and what was it that he said you smelled from the amortentia?” You poked his cheek and he closed his eyes, a tiny smile growing on his face despite his blushing cheeks. “Cloudberries…oh! And daisies, now, what was the other thing? Let me think-“ you pretended to ponder before George cut you off by pulling you down on him and pressing his lips to yours in a kiss much softer than any of the others.

“Summer breezes,” he whispered against your lips before connecting them again, “It smelled like you,” and with that his hand snaked to the nape of your neck as he pressed his lips against yours, pouring all of his feelings into it, hoping it was enough. In all honesty, now that he’d felt what it was like to love you, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to go back to pretending to hate you.

Once he pulled away you were completely breathless, however, George seemed to have more to say. “I don’t want us to go back to the way we were,” absentmindedly you brushed his hair out of his eyes, stroking the red strands soothingly as he continued to confide in you, his voice, face and body completely vulnerable to you. Something about him trusting you with his feelings reassured you that his intentions were pure and banished any notion you possessed of the whole thing being a joke, “I didn’t like it, acting like that but you were always so unbothered that I felt like I had keep one upping you,” he confessed.

“You always gave me this feeling in my stomach whenever you’d come over to the Burrow with your parents when we were little and I didn’t understand it. I just thought that it must’ve meant I didn’t like you…” George seemed to get lost in his own mind as he gazed at you regretfully, his fingers trailed the length of your spine sofly, “By the time I realised, we were both older and I suppose I just thought you couldn’t feel the same ‘cause I made you hate me,” you hummed in acknowledgment, your fingers still working his hair, keeping it out of his eyes that looked at you so intently that you could’ve drowned in them and died happy.

“But then the other night after dinner Angie slapped me upside the head and talked my ear off about how out of order I’d been—obviously I agree with her! You weren’t even talking to me but Neville was complimenting you and I don’t know… just got possessive,” he muttered the last part, losing some confidence but regained it upon seeing the little smile on your lips. “Then Ron looked about ready to push me off the astronomy tower when I saw him this evening. Blimey, I knew it had to have something to do with you since Harry was snippy too.” You had to laugh at the exhausted look on his face when he recalled your two best friends.

Mockingly, you gave him a stern look and clicked your tongue, “Well, perhaps if you weren’t so mean to me all of this could’ve been avoided,” George groaned once again, feeling guilty he pulled you even closer and buried his face in your neck.

“M’sorry,” you carded your fingers through his hair, pressing a soft kiss to his head. Your lips against his head caused him to lift his face from the crook of your neck, “Forgive me?” He asked, a cute pout on his lips.

“I’ll think about it,” you teased, giggling at the offended look on his face. George let out a dissatisfied sigh, he pushed a strand of hair behind your ear before giving you a toothy smile.

“Don’t worry, love. I plan on making it up to you.”

[mixed-theater-faisty-tings]

Lovin’ Kind

Chapter One

Pairing: Riff x Latina! Summary: Catalina is Valentina’s niece and has grown up in Doc’s which also means around The Jets. She is close friends with Tony but when he goes away after The Egyptian Kings rumble she seeks friendship with the new Puertorriqueños Maria, Anita, and The Sharks. A/N: Hello!! This is my first story on here and it is just for fun. In no way is this a perfect story by a perfect author I am just having fun writing about things I like. So thank you for being here and reading! Enjoy!! Feel free to message me for tags or just to chat or even feedback! Without further ado here is Lovin’ Kind. *Disclaimer*: I will be using language presented in the film (racist slurs) and I will also have profanity when felt necessary.

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Catalina Pov

“ Mija!, has terminado de prepararte para Tony?” (Are you done setting up for Tony?), I hear my Tia Valentina yell at me down the staircase. “Si Tia!”, I yell back patting out the wrinkles in the bed sheets.

After over looking everything one more time I run back up the steps excited to see my best friend again.I have practically grown up at Doc’s, when mi Papa left mi Mama, she thought it best we move to America where my Tia Valentina had found love with a white man named Doc and owned a little drug store in West Side Manhattan. Along with living here came this gang named The Jets and Tony was their leader with Riff as his second however, Tony spent the most time here and we created a friendship while I cleaned up or helped out as much as I could as a child. He was truly my only friend but, when Riff would come around it wasn’t the same, in all honesty I can tolerate Riff but I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him. He has been stealing from Valentina since he was six why would I? Anyway, last year The Jets had a rumble with The Egyptian Kings which led Tony to beating a kid nearly to death and that is how he ended up upstate for the last 12 months. But today he comes home finally and I couldn’t be happier, we exchanged few letters while he was away no one knew about them I figured he needed an alliance that wasn’t Jet related.

“He is going to be here any minute. I just hope he hasn’t bumped into any of the others you know”, My tia says wiping down the counter for the fourth time in the last hour.. “It will be okay. He promised he would come here first without any pit stops and he knows we will both murder him if he doesn’t.”, I try bring light. “Aye mija, you always know what to say. Te quiero mi niña”, she places a soft kiss on my head. “Te quiero mucho tia”, I smile. “Guess you started the party without me”, a voice rings from the doorway. “Cállate estupido(shut up stupid)”, I laugh giving him a hug.

Valentina follows and we have our reunion. Tony begins to thank my Tia for allowing him to stay downstairs and for offering him a job. He caught us up on his parole rules, and telling us how he wanted to change and be a better person. He is going to back off from the Jets and the job here is so he can save money we can’t pay him much but, we try for the few chores he and I do around here. “After what happened I don’t want to fight anymore it doesn’t seem worth it. You guys know I don’t hate anyone or anything..I guess it’s just change. Riff and I have gone through so much change since we were kids that when we see something unfamiliar or feel threatened our instinct is to throw a good, hard punch. But I am learning to accept change into my life.”, he explains. “I never really thought you one of those Jets. You aren’t full of hate like the rest of them. They think that because I married a gringo it makes me a gringa and by her being my niece she is also one but neither of us are. We are both puertorriqueña and proud of it. You’re gonna be just fine Tony,”, Valentina always knows what to say. “Let me get you settled downstairs ya giant”, I ruffle up his hair heading towards the door. “Hey now leave the hair out of this.”, he chuckles following me with his few belongings “ No me digas que hacer chico blanco porque te voy a pasear el culo “ (Don’t tell me what to do white boy because I will kick your ass), I laugh racing down the steps.

I show him where he is staying it wasn’t much just a bed in our storage space really but he didn’t mind.

“You know ten years of being friends and I still don’t understand you Catalina”, he says sitting on the bed. “Yeah well ten years of being friends and I will never understand the whole gang thing. I guess we are just a couple of enigmas huh.”, I joke sitting next to him. “I really appreciate ya being there for me while I was away”, he says. “Figured you needed a friend but umm Valentina wants you to start right away. There is an inventory list on the shelves over there just count how much of everything we have and then she will tell you what she needs brought up. I will see you a little later.”, I say. “And where are you going missy?”, he asks. “I am having dinner with some other friends I made while you were away”, I explain standing up and straighten out my dark orange skirt. “That explains why you’re all dressed up. Dressed up to replace me”, he takes notice making a quick joke. “Yeah yeah I’ll see ya later buddy boy”, I mock.

He waves and I head back up to say goodbye to my Tia. She compliments my outfit telling me to be safe. I admire myself one last time in the window adjusting the short sleeves on the tan flower printed shirt. Right as I am heading out the bell of the door rings. “Hola señoritas where’s my buddy boy at”, I hear the voice I loathe more than anything. “Aye Riff you know I don’t want you in my store and you sure as hell can’t see Tony. He needs to steer clear of delinquents like you”, Valentina attempts to shoo him out of the store. “Calm it down old lady you get too rowdy and you may break a hip.”, he walks past her. “Seriously Riff, just leave Tony alone and apologize to my Tia”, I say annoyed. “Ohh is Cat prissy today”, he crosses him arms leaning against the pinball machine. “I am not prissy. I just don’t want you treating my tia like crap. It’s getting real old.”, my voice clear of agitation. “Just tell me where Tony is and I will be out of your hair”, he puts his hands up in surrender. Valentina sighs in defeat and just walks away to organize shelves. I just ignore him and leave the store heading towards my dinner.

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I knock on the door softly and am greeted by a very energetic Anita, with a peppy Maria behind her. The Sharks moved into the neighborhood a little after Tony went upstate it has been nice having other Puertorriqueños around it’s really only ever been mi Tia and I after my mother died. I love Valentina more than anything but, without Tony it was lonely and it wasn’t like The Jets were going to provide me any comfort especially Riff.

“Hola! Como estas?(Hi! How are you?)”, Anita hugs me instantly. “Muy bien, y tu?” (Very good, and you?) I responded embracing the two girls. I look behind them and find Bernardo the leader of The Sharks sitting at the table looking over his boxing schedule. Boxing is how he has made his living while it isn’t ideal he has done really well for himself and Anita has a business she runs in the apartment sewing and hemming articles of clothing for others while most of the other women clean at Gimbels an expensive, fancy shop for the Americanos.

“Thank god you are here Alta, they wouldn’t stop kissing”, Maria laughs. “Alta? I thought your name was Catalina?”, Bernardo chimes in. “My full name is Catalina Altagracia De la Rosa. I hate Catalina because of some old teasing..I like to be called Altagracia or just Alta..”, I explain trying not to think about Riff’s earlier comment. “Oh okay…Anita asi que como lo descubrí. Seis niños y luego podemos llamarlo.” (Anita so I figured it out. Six kids then we can be done), he says causing Maria and I to snicker on our way into her room. “Six kids! Marry a cat”, Anita says turning back towards the stove.

Maria shuts her door and we sit on the bed. It had been a few weeks since we saw each other I have been so busy at Docs and then she picked up some shifts at Gimbels we kept missing the other. “So how is Valentina?”, she asks. “She is good, uh you remember that family friend I told you about well he moved in today.”, I explain carefully not to give too much away the last thing I need is Nardo hearing I share a living vicinity with a former Jet. “That’s nice. Nothing much around here I mean Nardo is trying to set me up with Chino pero, I am just trying to experience New York City que no?”, she let’s out a deep sigh looking out the window. She is the more adventurous one out of the two of us I’ve always just stayed behind the doors of Doc’s too scared to experience life. Bernardo would lock Maria in this apartment if he could just to protect her.

“Chino is a great guy i’m sure everything would be just fine no? New York isn’t all it is cranked out to be. The city is kicking us all out of our homes to make room for some Performing Arts Center and we have two gangs wanting territory that is being taken anyway.”, I explain. “I never said Chino wasn’t great. It is just I barely got here and my brother has Anita, his boxing he created a life here while I took care of Papi back home. I want it to be my turn to build a life maybe go to school we could take classes together you know. Bernardo es mas terco que una mula (Bernardo is more stubborn than a mule).” She fiddles with her skirt. “María, estoy seguro de que podríamos resolver algo. Si yo también tomo las clases, tal vez tu hermano y mi tía estarían más abiertos a la idea porque nos tendríamos el uno al otro. (Maria i am sure we could figure something out. If I take the classes too maybe your brother and my aunt would be more open to the idea because we would have each other). Pero let’s hope they don’t make a Shark walk us everyday.”, I say trying to lighten the mood. “Sounds like a great idea! Only a month left till classes start right?”, she asks, I nod. We start planning how to ask if we could do this. We are both 18 but between her brother and my tia it can be hard to convince them of what we think is right for ourselves.

“Chicas! Hora de comer (girls time to eat)”, Anita shouts. We both head out of the room and over to the table. “So there is going to be a dance next week at the school. Some type of social thing I guess. I could alter you girls some dresses if you’d like?”, Anita offers joining us at the table. “Really Anita you’d do that?”, I ask. “Mi hermana is going nowhere near that dance”, Bernardo says sternly. “Nardo por favor! I want to experience New York it would be my first time and what if Alta is there that’s not fair.”, Maria defends. “Come on bebe she will be safe with us and this could be a chance to set her up with Chino as her date.”, Anita tries to calm the conversation. “Fine but only if Chino goes. Maybe Junior will go with Altagracia no?’, he suggests. “That would be nice.”, Anita says. Maria and I exchange a look but figure it is our only chance at going and hesitantly agree with their set up. “Perfecto! I will go to the market tomorrow and get the things I need and you two will be surprised.”, Anita smiles.

We eat dinner in silence with a little small talk here and there either catching up or talking about Nardos next fight. I try to avoid talking about the Jets around them in an attempt to keep peace between everyone. As long as either gang doesn’t do anything stupid we should we perfectly fine.

“ Gracias por la cena estaba delicioso. Podría ayudar a limpiar?( Thanks for dinner, it was delicious. Can I help clean up)”, I ask wiping the corners of my lips of any left over food. “Si, if you and Maria want to wash dishes. Let’s not forget we need to practice our english.”, Anita says.

We gather the plates and begin dish duty. Maria became my best friend after Tony had gone upstate. She just moved her not too long before Anita introduced us. Anita comes by Doc’s to talk to my Tia sometimes and she brought Maria by one day since we were the same age they figured we would be good friends. It was nice to be around other Puerto Ricans and especially girls while I may have grown up with the Jets I never ran with them nor played into their tricks.

“I am excited for this dance! Just one week and we will be experiencing life wont we?”, Maria says. “I hope so.”, I smile at her. Once we finish cleaning up I decide it was getting late and say my goodbyes to head back to Doc’s. I leave the building, the cold air of New York City hitting my face instantly. I always loved walking in the streets at night it was the perfect temperature and all I could hear was the subtle clicks of my heel on the pavement. The stars were bright tonight and before I knew it I was back at the store my Tia ready to close up for the night. ————————————————————————————

“Hola Tia!”, I exclaim. “Hola mija how was Anitas?”, she asks. “It was good we had some Pasteles con arroz.”, I bring her into an embrace. “Sounds delicioso”, she smiles. “You go lay down I will close up and sweep.”, I smile. “Are you sure?”, she asks.

I nod. “Go get some rest okay.”. “Hasta mañana. Te quiero mucho Alta.”, She kisses my cheek and heads off. Just as I am about to lock the doors Riff emerges from Tony’s corners seemly upset. I watch his motions as he hastily runs his fingers through his hair and paces in a circle.

“Take a picture it will last longer.”, he clearly notices my gaze. “Whatever. Riff please get out so I can close up for the night.”, I say pointing at the door.

He comes close to me near the counter with his hand on his hip and smirk across his face. “Make me kitty cat.”, he says and I cringe at the name. “I’ve told you my name is Catalina you imbecile.”, I try to move away from him but his hand shoots at my waist keeping me in place. “I know you’re name but, I think cat is way better. Besides, you can’t insult me if I don’t know what it means. So where’s the warden?”, he says. “She went to bed. I told her i’d take care of the store.”, I say avoiding looking at him. His hand leaves my waist and reaches behind me. Our chests collide, his face coming a little too close to mine, my breath subtly quickening. He pulls away with a Milkway in his hand. “Five cents now.”, I demand. “Add it to my tab won’t ya doll.”, he says taking a bite of the candy bar. “You can’t keep stealing from here!”, I shout. “Fine then add it to Tony’s tab employee discount right.”, he says smugly. “Just get out Riff I can’t with you anymore.”, I sigh and face the counter. “As you wish. Here you can have my other half.” He says leaving the half eaten candy on the table before walking out of the store.

I lock up the doors and stare at the candy. Why is he so annoying? I’ve only ever tolerated him and I barely know the other Jets names. Tony always thought it better I not be involved with the gang much and frankly I was thought so too. However, the Jets took every chance they could to tease me as a Puerto Rican but nowhere near their new lows of causing mayhem with the Sharks.

“Hey what you still doing up here?’, I hear Tony say coming upstairs. “Just closing up and cleaning a bit leaves less to do in the morning. Riff just left.”, I toss the candy bar in the trash. “Yeah he was bugging me about some Jet business.”, he leans against the pinball machine Riff was leaning on just hours before. “They want their leader back..Riff tried to be you and step up but sometimes he loses control of them.”, I admit. “I know I know but I told ya I don’t wanna go back to that life.”. “How did that go over with your boy?”. “Not well he was pretty mad when he was leaving.” “Noticed that too.” “I just wish he could understand.”. “You can’t force him to.”

“He’s been there for me nearly my whole life. It’s been Tony and Riff but now we are in two different spots. However, he did mention some dance they are having I guess the Jet’s are going.”, he says causing me to jump. “The Jet’s are going to the dance next week!?”, I half ask and half panic. “Yeah why?’, he is clearly confused. “No reason just didn’t realize that the dance was for everyone thought it was just Puerto Ricans going.” I say wiping the counter. “Porto ricans? So you’re going?”, he asks. I nod and decide to admit it to him, “ Yes while you were gone I made friends with some of the Shark girls and they invited me to go and are setting me up with a Shark.”. “Do they know you are also involved with the Jets.”, he gives me stern look as if he was my big brother. “First of all I am not ‘involved’ with the Jets okay and second of all no they don’t know about you or that I am friends with you. They know I have encounters with the guys because I work here but that is it.”, I explain. “Just be careful okay I might be fine with this but there ain’t no guarantee the Jets will be.”, he sighs. “I am Puerto rican that doesn’t change because I grew up with Doc or anything like that.”, I say. “I know I just mean-“

I cut him off, “I know what you meant by it Tony but, I am tired of this. I am no gringa I am proudly puertorriqueña so I will spend time with my people and my friends if the Jets have something to say about it then I will handle it. The Sharks are harmless they don’t want to hurt anyone just like the Jets they want a home.”, I say before leaving Tony alone.

Why is it all so complicated? And why did I agree to go this dance with Junior? Why did Riff get so close to me like that? I am too tired to figure this all out right now.

@whisperofsong @theforgottenmcrmy @belenchies @riffheartsgraziella @dellaspinstales

[mozak-hh]

Genshin impact headcanon:

How they find out they’re in love with you

I was just listening to, “love songs,” by Kaash Paige and I got really imspired to do a cute little headcanon. I would recommend listening to the song while reading this cus it is a major vibe ;)

Pairings: Zhongli, Diluc, Kaeya, albedo

Songs to vibe to for the headcanon lol

Zhongli:

Zhongli’s not used to feeling puppy love, those feeling are beneath gods. Especially after all of his years alive, he thought love was something that had run its course. In his earlier centuries, perhaps, but never now.

After meeting you for the first time, he grow fond very quickly of your childish remarks and youthful attitude. It refreshes him to know that not everyone is made of stone. And after your first encounter he goes out of his way to bump into you more and more often.

This usually disrupts your tasks with Childe, so he is the first one who catches on to Zhongli’s little interest in you. Childe will often bicker with Zhongli about it, but instead of snapping back Zhongli will just act oblivious about it.

Zhongli isn’t the type to think extremely deeply about things, so I don’t think he’ll have trouble accepting his feeling about you. But that doesn’t mean he won’t be surprised, and it might take him a while to really figure it out.

He goes back to the place you first had lunch with him and steals collects the cup from where you sat, holding the fragile price of antique in his hand and turning it slightly, inspecting it. He then circles the brim with his thumb, sighing and putting in his pocket. He then puts it on the shelve in his office. Looking at it time to time.

Further on into your friendship with him. Zhongli finds himself idolising your form and appearance. Caressing you hair when you hug him, lifting the stands to his face for a closer look, you’ll never know that though.

He’ll offer his arm to you when you walk around the harbour with him. Letting you wrap you hand around it while talking about your latest discoveries in Liyue. Rest your head on his shoulder and you may hear him suck in a breath. Trying to compose himself. It’s not everyday gods get attached to humans. So when it does happen, you can expect them to be way more possessive than the average significant other.

Albedo:

this man is quite awkward with his feelings ok? he could write a 30 page essay on the essence of human life but not one sentence could describe the way he thrives when your around him. 

he would see you walk past the alchemy shop everyday, smiling and talking to the shopkeeper. Before he met you he wouldn’t think to much about it, but after the events in Dragonspine, he grows fond of staring at you outside the shop window, leaving his notebooks and research to sit idly and gaze. On some occasions he may even draw you, search through his notepad the next time the two of you meet and you might find out how many pages exactly he has of you. 

the first ones to catch on to his little antics is his apprentices, Sucrose mainly. Though she wont pry too much, as Albedo would often call her ridiculous for thinking such things, she’ll giggle every time she sees Albedo at the window. Knowing exactly what he’s doing. 

One day, while you are staying in Diluc’s tavern, Albedo goes wondering around the stalls in Mondstadt, buying flowers from the little girl near the gates. using his magic he evolves them into luscious blooms of colour, and begins his trek to the tavern. It is only once he reaches your room door does he realise what he’s actually doing. This is when it hits him. That perhaps you are worth more to him than his hunger for knowledge. He lets the flowers drop to floor. So many months of drawing your figure and longing for the taste of your touch and now he’s too scared to even knock on your door? he slouches and walks back to where he came from. Not bothering to pick up those beautiful flowers left behind. It is when you finally open your door to get fresh air do you almost step on them. Noticing their other-worldly hue, you knew only one man would have the kind of abilities to make these.    

A week goes by, and you and Albedo are up in Dragonspine once again to do research on more artefacts he collected. He treads lightly in the snow, gazing at the way your eyes light up as you talk. he then flinches slightly when he feels your warm hand reach for his own, and you look up at him with a smirk. “The flowers where so beautiful, it’s a shame you didn't bring them to me yourself,” you then lightly kiss his cheek and walk off, leaving him a blushing mess in the cold.  

Diluc:

Diluc is known to have little to no interest in women. Much to people’s dismay, this man has no intention of marrying a women so they can steal his money. That is until he met you, of course. 

With him money has no limits, so expect to receive many gifts during your nights out with him, or seeing him after he’s been away on business. Whether that be an embroidered lace from fancy stores, or a jade necklace all the way from Liyue, Diluc will show you a world of luxury. 

Diluc will always place you beside him at dinner parties or fancy ball. Since he’s been surrounded by vicious women his entire life, it calms him to know you’re right beside him. 

there is always a room in the tavern for you, whether you need it or not. The bartenders on duty always know you are allowed to stay after hours, and the drinks always come free of charge. 

After a month or two of receiving these perks, you grow tired of seeing so much of Diluc’s purchases, but never enough of the real him. So you seek him out at his winery. 

you have no luck finding him however, so you opt for waiting in his office until he eventually shows up. While you wait, you notice a large stack of letters, all of which have your name on it. 

Elegant, handwritten love letters. Each and every one of them. Telling you how beautiful you are, and how your smile is always on his mind. In fact, everything about you is edged into his memory, all these gifts you receive having some sort of connection to reminding him of you. The fact that when you wore the dress he bought you last week, it took him days to shake the heat from his body, the longing to touch you. 

After an hour or so of reading these letters, your face is completely red. And as soon as you begin to calm down, the red haired gentleman strides thought the door with a fat stack of papers he needs to sign. You jump from your seat, letters falling out of your lap and down to the floor as you do so. He takes one look at the papers surrounding you, and immediately know what they are. Perhaps if he had been brave enough to send these to you, he may of not been this embarrassed. 

“As much as I am glad that you finally understand my emotions surrounding you, I would have been more keen to have spoke them to you in person. But that can wait for now. How about you join me for dinner?”

Kaeya: 

This lover boy is actually very helpless when it comes to real love. After exposing himself to the elements of your personality, he falls head over heals for you. Possible one of the toughest men to come to term with their feeling to be honest. His flirty and obnoxious behaviour deceiving him in the end. 

Kaeya would prefer to see you in the morning. Having coffee before work with you is his personal favourite. It is these genuine outings that he loves most. Unlike the occasional nights of pleasure he has had beforehand. With you, he feels his heart is more precious to you, not his body. As many women would eventually go with a one night stand with the lesser brother of a rich man, than to have conversations with him over a cup of coffee. 

On a more positive note, Kaeya will start to recruit you for more and more missions just to enjoy your company. It wont be long till people start to assume you are his personal assistant for the knights. Seeing you accompany him on everyone of his outings. This is where you start to use his office.

The both of you slowly start to share the same working space after a few weeks of being on his team. Memories in his office are some of his fondest when it come to you. staying in and having dinner with him after a long day at work. Sharing stories with him during those mountains of paperwork. Joking with him during work breaks. More importantly, comforting him after heavy battles. 

When Kaeya starts to act more like a puppy around you, it is Diluc that teases him bout being a fool in love, and this is what causes Kaeya to finally understand it. Like a break in the ice. All of these months devoting his time to you, never to act on his feelings because on uncertainty. But know he knows he has you, and unlike many of these other women, you wouldn’t be going anywhere. 

Kaeya sits impatiently at the local café, tapping his finger on the table as he glows a light shade of pink. Once he’s sees you coming towards his table, his blush sharpens as he stumbles to grab the flowers he bought you beforehand.  

aaaand there! Another genshin headcanon, sorry such the long wait. I’ve been pretty busy at work :p comment if you have any suggestions x

[starshine583]

New Girl on the Block (16)

(Hey, guys! Here’s the next update of “New Girl on the Block”! I hope you all enjoy it, and as always, feel free to check out the mini series connected to this called Journal Entries. <3)

Ch. 1 / Ch. 15 / Ch. 17 (Ao3)

Chapter 16: Hear Me Out

Adrien rocked back and forth on his heels, quietly scrolling through his phone as he waited in front of the Dupain-Cheng bakery. After two weeks of strict scheduling and a light grounding sentence due to missing classes, he’d finally gotten a reprieve, and he didn’t hesitate to use that rare free time to seek out Marinette. Her bakery was usually opened in the early hours, so he figured that he would get to waltz right in and talk with her. However, that didn’t seem to be the case, because when he arrived, he wasn’t met with the vanilla scents and warm smiles that he’d come to love. Instead, a small piece of paper stopped him at the front door. 

Temporarily closed. Will re-open at an undetermined time today.

It was a frustrating set-back, since he’d spent all this time trying to get there, but Adrien simply shrugged and leaned against one of the larger windows to wait. They were probably out running errands, which shouldn’t take long. Maybe half an hour to an hour tops? Either way, he wasn’t going to leave now. If he could sit in the same positions for hours on end for a photoshoot, he could stand on the street for a prolonged amount of time for a friend. Besides, the weather was surprisingly warm that morning, and he rather enjoyed the breath of fresh air that came with it.

..Of course, that mentality was much easier to keep up at the beginning. After waiting for a little over an hour, though, Adrien already felt his patience starting to slip. The subtle chill in the air that he hadn’t noticed before was seeping into his clothes, and his fingers were slowly growing numb as he distracted himself with apps on his phone. His thoughts were tipping on the irritated side, like how the Dupain-Chengs should have been home already. Errands don’t take this long. Where were they? Won’t they lose customers if they leave the bakery unattended like this?

Despite the growing annoyance, Adrien forced himself to stay put and relax. He’d come over unannounced, after all. He couldn’t blame them for making him wait if they didn’t know he was there. And, again, this was Marinette. She was his wonderful friend and completely worth waiting for. If it meant getting her to come back to school and hang out with him again, he could let himself freeze on the sidewalk. Even if it took hours or days or weeks for him to see her. Nothing on earth was going to-

Adrien’s stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn’t had breakfast yet, and on that note, neither had Gorilla. He’d been in such a hurry to leave that he hadn’t thought about food. (Well, that’s not entirely true. He’d sort of hoped that he could eat breakfast with Marinette once they talked things out.)

So much for that idea. He thought, leaning his head against the window. Maybe he should go ahead and get breakfast real quick. That way Gorilla could eat too, and it would get him out of the cold for a minute. What if the Dupain-Chengs came back while he was gone, though? He didn’t want to miss them..

Actually, why should he have to leave it all? He could just send Gorilla to get the food and bring it back here! Genius!

Adrien straightened with a smile and slipped his phone back into his pocket, but before he could take a step forward, something caught his eye.

A black car rolled up to the curb, parking right in front of the bakery. It almost looked like it was waiting for something, but no one got out of the car and no one came to get in, which was.. Strange. Why would a car park at the random spot in Paris? Were they lost? Or simply waiting for something? What would they be waiting for?

Just as Adrien was about to blow off the unusual sight, the front door of the bakery burst open, and someone came barreling outside shouting “Coming! I’m coming!”. 

Adrien jumped- understandably so. Wasn’t the bakery supposed to be empty? -and whirled around to see the very person he’d been waiting for sprinting towards the car. His arms moved before his mind could fully comprehend the situation, but as he grabbed her arm, more than a few questions were spinning in his head. For example, why was she at the bakery? Had she been there the whole time? Who was waiting for her inside the car?

“Marinette! I’ve been waiting for you.” He said, flashing a smile despite his confusion. They were talking now. That was all that mattered. 

Marinette stiffened, her gaze snapping to his. The look of pure terror that crossed her features didn’t sit well with Adrien, but he tried to push that discomfort aside. She was probably just surprised that someone had grabbed. They were friends, after all. She wouldn’t be horrified seeing her friend!

“Y-You.. How long have you been waiting here?” She stuttered out, panic clear in her tone.

“Ah..” Adrien let his hand drop from her arm and rubbed the back of his neck. Should he tell her that he's been waiting for almost two hours? That’s not weird, right?

“That’s not important.” He decided to reply. “Do you have a minute? I haven’t seen you in forever!”

Marinette threw a glance over her shoulder at the car. “Y-you know, I really don’t actually. I have to go meet someone, and-”

So she was meeting someone? That meant this car was sent to get her. Was she meeting one of the Rosemary students? It was probably that blond-haired guy again..

“It’ll only take two seconds!” He  promised, moving to block her door. He couldn’t let her run away again when he was so close.

“Adrien, please, I really need to go-”

“Come on! I just need-”

“They’re all waiting as we speak-”

“I just need to apologize!”

Marinette froze, her fighting spirit seeming to stall at the remark, and Adrien paused too. He wanted his words to sink in before he continued. Hopefully, that would get her to listen to him.

She met his eyes again, definitely hesitant but not indignant. He took that as a good sign, a step in the right direction. 

“You.. wanted to apologize?”

Adrien gave an eager nod. “Yes! I’ve been trying to for the past month, but our schedules never lined up, and any time I would finally get out, you weren’t at home, and.. Well.. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you to take the high ground like that or ignore the fact that Lila was hurting you. That’s not what friends do. I should have been there for you when you needed me. I’m so sorry that I was blind to everything.”

Marinette stared at him, dumbfounded, and he held his breath. She was going to forgive him, right? She’s not the type to leave someone hanging, though he probably couldn’t blame her if she did.. 

She cast her gaze to the ground. “I.. I appreciate the apology, but I really do need to get going. They’ll start to worry if I’m late.”

Adrien faltered. That.. wasn’t exactly the reaction he’d been hoping for. It wasn’t bad or anything, just.. When he pictured this moment, it always came with a hug or an “Of course I’ll forgive you!”, but Marinette, however, only seemed to be interested in meeting her friend. (Friends if you consider how often she said “they”.)

“Can we get together later then?” He asked, throwing those thoughts aside. Reality was never like fantasy anyway. “There’s still so much I want to talk with you about.”

Again, Marinette hesitated. “..Can I think about it?”

Adrien offered a smile, though he was admittedly disappointed. Had their friendship truly stooped so low that she had to think about spending time with him?

Nevertheless, he would take what he could get. Therefore, he gave a nod with the smile and said, “That’s all I ask.”

The tension in Marinette’s shoulders loosened, but only slightly, and she thanked him as she slipped into the black car that was still waiting. Adrien waved her off, and although he didn’t get to talk with her nearly as much as he’d wanted to, he still found himself more optimistic than anything. She said that she would think about getting together again, and if Marinette was the person he knew she was, he would be getting a text soon about a time and place. They would talk, and he would convince her to come back to Dupont, and everything would be fine.

All he had to do now was wait.

~~~~~~

Normally, folding slips of paper and stapling them together to create a heart would be a simple task for someone as crafty as Marinette. Today, though, her thoughts were elsewhere, and that seemed to seep into her productivity rate. She’d been working on the same stream of hearts for a good hour or so and still hadn’t finished it, despite only taking twenty minutes maximum for each stream when she made them last time. 

Her slow pace was aggravating to say the least, but not nearly as aggravating as the thoughts that kept invading her mind in the first place. All she could think about was Adrien Agreste and the way he showed up on her doorstep that morning, spewing apologies and begging for more time to hang out with her. After two weeks of silence from the blonde, she had hoped that he was giving up on talking with her. Apparently, that wasn’t the case.

Don’t get her wrong, she was happy that he apologized. Or, at least, she knew she was supposed to be happy. This was something that she’d been waiting for for the past five months, after all. It’s just that.. Why now? Why now did he decide to come apologize to her? Why not come before she left the school? Why not come before she officially moved on from her old life and started over? 

Then again, it never would be before, would it? People don’t appreciate you until you’re gone. That’s just how it was, and it’s what made her leaving Dupont hard in the first place. All of her childhood friends had been there, and she knew- or possibly hoped at the time -that some of them would try to stop her. Granted, only one has tried so far, but one was enough to send Marinette into a flurry of anxious thoughts.

In all honesty, she wanted to tell Adrien no, to say that she wouldn’t be joining him for another hangout. He was simply too much of a risk. What if he told the others about their meet-up? What if they followed him and found her again to do who knows what? What if Lila found her again to do who knows what? Then, there were her new, lovely friends right in front of her. What if they got caught up in drama that Adrien might bring along? She didn’t want them being a part of that. In fact, she didn’t want them talking to Adrien or her other old classmates at all. (Thank goodness no one had come with Allegra’s driver to pick her up earlier, else she would have had a lot of things to explain that she didn’t want to.) Transferring schools was meant to keep Marinette away from her past, not create a new environment to infect it with. 

As reluctant as she was to meet up with Adrien, though, she also felt guilty for thinking that way. He’d come and apologized to her for the things he’d done and appeared to be extremely sincere while doing so. It didn’t sit right with her to reject him without giving him a chance to make up for his mistakes. Maybe she should have a little lunch with him? 

Ugh, but the very idea made her sick to her stomach-

“-inette~? Marinette!”

Marinette jumped, her gaze snapping upwards to see Allegra, Claude, and Allan all looking at her. 

“O-Oh!” A blush swept across her cheeks, and she pushed her decorations into her lap. How long had they been calling her name? “I’m sorry, did you need something?”

“No, not really.” Allegra smiled. “You’ve just been really spaced out today. What’s on your mind?”

Marinette smiled back, though a twinge of panic laced through her mind. Was her discomfort that obvious? She was hoping no one would notice..

“I bet she’s just thinking about who she’ll take to the party.” Claude thankfully joked before she could respond. “Who’s it gonna be, Mari? Someone from our school? Or is it that Luka guy you mentioned last week?”

Marinette’s eyes widened. “Oh, I- no. I hadn’t thought about who to bring.. Were we supposed to bring dates?”

Gosh, she hoped not. Luka was a wonderful person- as were the other boys at Rosemary.. probably -but she honestly didn’t feel like trying to find a date for the Valentine’s party or anything else, especially when her old crush had just come out of the woodworks to find her. Marinette didn’t harbor anymore feelings for him by any means, but that didn’t stop his presence from sucker punching her in the stomach with the memories of her heart ache. She’d prefer not to go through that again, at least not anytime soon.

“Not if you don’t want to.” Allegra assured. “We normally all go as a group anyway.”

“But most people probably will.” Claude said, before putting a hand to his chest with a smirk. “I’d offer to take you, but Allegra and I are already going together.”

“As friends.” Allegra hastily added.

Marinette chuckled. “I’ll try not to be too disappointed.”

The group shared a laugh towards her sarcasm, and Claude dramatically ran a hand through his hair.

“I know, I know, it’s such a heartache not being able to go with me.” He sighed. “Don’t worry, though. I’m sure there are plenty of guys who will be falling all over you at the party. Right, Fe?”

Felix, who’d been quietly working on his assigned decorations, glanced up at the group with a raised eyebrow. Marinette held back a laugh- that was such a Felix reaction -but Claude raised his eyebrows at the blond, as if pressing him for a response. Was that supposed to be a serious question?

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Don’t you think the boys will be falling all over her?”

Felix’s gaze shifted to Marinette, and she felt a bit of heat rush to her cheeks. He was actually thinking of an answer, wasn’t he?

“F-Felix, you don’t have to answer that-” She started to say, even though a part of her strangely wanted to know his answer.

Felix, however, spoke before she could finish.

“Yes, I’m sure they would,” He said, casually looking back down at his work, “especially if she wears that dress she mentioned the other day. Those boys will drop to their knees for anything remotely pretty.”

Marinette blinked, her heart effectively lodging itself in her throat. Did he just..?

“Did you just call her pretty?” Claude asked with a bewildered grin, taking the words right out of her mouth.

Felix’s gaze flicked towards the brunette, a look of mild irritation crossing his features from being bothered again. “Is she not?”

A blush exploded across Marinette’s features then, and she bit her lip to avoid squeaking. She never assumed that the group saw her as ugly, but to hear Felix outright call her pretty was.. Well, it was rather flattering if she were being honest, especially since Felix was quite a dashing person himself. And being the blunt, straight-forward type that he is, she knew he wasn’t lying or sugar-coating anything to spare her feelings.

“No, no, she is.” Allegra smiled, a strange glint coming to her eyes. “We just didn’t expect you to say it out loud.”

A slight scowl tugged at Felix’s lips. “You asked. I answered. Would you prefer I just ignore you?”

Claude snorted. “No, but since you think she’s so pretty, why don’t you take her to the Valentine’s party?”

Felix shot him a flat look. “We’re already going together as a group.”

“I know. I meant why don’t you take her as a date to the party?”

Had Marinette not been sitting down, she probably would have tripped over herself at the suggestion. Her and Felix? Going on a date? Surely not. Aside from not being interested in dating herself, Marinette was certain that Felix wasn’t interested in her. Not in the romantic sense, anyway. He needed a calm and collected partner, someone that would help his life be as quiet and peaceful as he liked, someone that wasn’t her.

Felix furrowed his eyebrows, further proving her point about not being interested. “Wha-”

“Not like a date date.” Claude said, rolling his eyes as though they were the ones jumping to crazy conclusions. “A date as friends, like Allegra and I are doing.”

Marinette frowned. A date as friends? “So, like, a fake date?”

Claude smiled at her. “Yeah! It’s a lot of fun.”

Marinette hummed as she stapled another heart together. A fake date with Felix didn’t sound nearly as strange, but how would that even go? Would they go through all of the motions of a real date or would they just arrive together and say they were each other’s plus one? Would he be bringing her flowers and picking her up for the party? Would he even do that on a real date? 

“But what’s the point?” Felix asked, thankfully dragging her back to the conversation. How he would date someone probably wasn’t something she should dwell on anyway.  

“Well,” Claude shrugged, “I guess there isn’t much of one, but you get to have a dance partner and do all that stuff without any pressure. It’s really like an honorary hangout?”

“I don’t see why that would be necessary. We can do that during a normal get together, and a fake date would only give people the wrong idea.”

“Alright, fine, it was just a suggestio-”

“Ow!” Marinette unintentionally hissed, yanking her hand away from her decoration and sticking her finger in her mouth. Dang paper cuts. You’d think she would learn how to avoid them by now.

The group straightened at her outburst.

“Are you okay?”

“What happened?”

“What’d you do?”

“Ah.” Marinette pulled her finger out of her mouth, watching the blood reform. How did she manage to cut it so deeply? “I’m fine. I just got a paper cut.”

“Oh,” Claude grimaced, “paper cuts. Those are the worst.”

“Do you need a band aid?” Felix inquired. “Or disinfectant?”

“That looks pretty bad.” Allan said, scrunching up his nose in a wince.

Marinette nodded. “Yeah.. disinfectant would probably be nice.”

Felix set his decorations aside and stood to go fetch her the supplies, and Allegra began pushing her decorations aside as well.

“Do you remember where the first aid kit is?” She asked, about to stand herself.

“Yes, I remember.” Felix answered, waving for her to stay seated. “Marinette, come with me.”

Marinette moved to follow him as she was told, and he led her to a bathroom that was across from the family room. There, he had her sit on the toilet while he opened the mirror cabinet hanging over the sink.

“How bad is it?” He asked, pulling the first aid kit out and setting it on the counter.

“I mean, I’ve done worse, but.. it’s definitely not pleasant.”

Felix sighed as he popped the kit open. “Yes, you always seem to be getting hurt somehow, don’t you? Let me see the cut.”

Marinette held out her hand, and Felix gently took it to examine her finger. Then, he shook his head and reached for the disinfectant. 

“How did you even manage this?” He asked, his voice a bit lighter than she expected. Was he laughing at her?

“If I knew, I wouldn’t have done it.” She replied.

Felix hummed and dabbed the disinfectant on her cut, briefly apologizing when she winced.

“You know, I don’t understand how you can create an entire line of clothes without a problem yet struggle with making a single stream of hearts.” He commented, letting a small smile ghost across his lips.

“Hey!” Marinette gasped. He was laughing at her! “I’ll have you know those hearts look great.” 

“You’re right.” He said, shooting her a smirk now. “Forgive me for assuming. You’ve probably pricked yourself with a needle a million times while perfecting your designs too. Who says pain can’t be a part of the process?”

Marinette pressed her lips into a thin line, if only to avoid smiling, and narrowed her eyes at him. Since when did he become so smug?

“Alright, smart guy, are you telling me you’ve never gotten a paper cut from all those books you read?”

“Maybe when I was five.”

A playful scoff escaped her lips, and Marinette rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I’m going to remember this the next time you get a paper cut.”

“If I get a paper cut.”

“When.”

Felix smiled, like he knew he was right, like she knew he was right, because even though he might have gotten a paper cut or two before when he wasn’t paying attention, they both knew he wouldn’t be getting one now, not when he wanted to prove a point. 

Still, Marinette allowed a smile to spread across her lips when Felix turned to grab the bandages. Although she disliked being proven wrong, she loved that he was teasing her about it. He’d shown himself to be witty and humorous before, but ever since the sleepover, he seemed to have started joking around with her more often. It was usually quiet, during times when the group was distracted and he could murmur in her direction or times when they were alone like right now, but she found it exciting nonetheless. Marinette had assumed that talking together like they had done that night at the sleepover would be a one time thing, since everyone opens up a little at night, so seeing him continue to speak with her in such a relaxed manner made her want to squeal with joy. 

Needless to say, she liked the new shift in their friendship. She liked it a lot.

“So, what’s been occupying your mind today? If you don’t mind me asking.” Felix said, bringing her from her thoughts.

“Hm?”

He let go of her hand to unwrap the bandage that he’d grabbed. “Allegra mentioned you weren’t all that present, and I noticed it as well. Have you started on another clothing design?”

“Oh..” Marinette glanced away to hide her disappointed. She’d almost forgotten about Adrien for a minute there. She wished she could forget about him again. “Not quite.”

Felix’s gaze flicked across her features, no doubt seeing everything she was trying to conceal. He was able to read her expressions like another one of his books from day one. Sometimes she felt like he knew her better than she knew herself, but that could also be due to the fact that she had a bad habit of wearing her heart on her sleeve. 

“Did something happen?” He asked, just like she knew he would. Felix never hesitated to lend a patient ear or a helping hand towards her troubles, which only made it harder for her to hold her tongue about talking with Adrien. 

“Sort of, but..” Marinette chewed on her bottom lip. “I’d kind of prefer not to talk about it.. If that’s okay?”

“Of course.” Felix’s reply was immediate and soft, and it filled her with a wonderful sense of relief. She should have known he wouldn’t get offended by her request for privacy. “Just know that I’m here if you ever want to talk. Allegra, Claude, and Allan will be happy to help as well.”

Marinette felt another smile tug at her lips. “Thank you.”

“Hey, are you guys done yet?” Claude called from the other room, cutting into their conversation. “These decorations aren’t going to make themselves!”

Felix’s eyes flicked upwards in a brief eyeroll, and he stood up to put the first aid kit away. “Yes, yes, we’re coming now.”

Marinette chuckled and stood up too. She hadn’t realized that he’d finished wrapping up her finger already. 

“Thanks for getting me a bandaid.” 

Felix closed the cabinet door with a nod. “I should probably get you a pair of rubber gloves too. We have a lot of heart streamers to make, and I don’t believe Allegra has enough bandaids for you.”

Marinette huffed and gave him a playful slap on the shoulder. “I take back that thanks. You get no appreciation from me.”

Felix chuckled. “How ungrateful. I’m only trying to be hospitable.”

“I’m sure.”

Her troubles with Adrien were far from resolved, but she found the decorations much easier to complete after that.

-

A sigh flitted from Marinette’s lips as she plopped onto her chaise later that evening. She’d spent the entire day stapling those hearts together, and now her hands ached because of it. The sting of her paper cut lingered on her finger as well, but she soothed the pain with the memory of getting to rub the fact that she only got one paper cut throughout the day in Felix’s face. He’d given her a look of feigned admiration, which probably should have irked her more than it did, and told her, “Congratulations on your achievement.” (That definitely irked her, though a smile betrayed her lips in the moment.)

“Are you okay, Marinette?” Tikki, her wonderful kwami, asked as she floated above her head.

Marinette smiled. “Fine, Tikki. Just tired.”

And she’ll have to do it all again tomorrow. Well, she won’t have to remake the decorations, but she’ll have to string them up at the Mandarin Oriental. They need to have everything ready by Thursday.

Tikki nodded understandingly. “You guys worked on those decorations for a long time, but they turned out beautifully.”

“Thanks. I can’t wait to see what they look like when we hang them up. What about you? Did you have fun at Allegra’s?”

Tikki flew a bit higher into the air out of habit, her grin brightening as she replied, “Absolutely! Her house reminds me of the castles I used to visit, so wide and open!”

Marinette chuckled. Since the mansion is a big place with a small number of people, Tikki can fly around the premises as much as she wants without worrying about getting caught. It gives her time to get out of the purse for once, and although Marinette was concerned about the idea at first, she was glad to see it working out. Tikki deserved a break from constantly being cooped up in small places. 

“Have you explored the entire mansion yet?”

“Almost! I have about two or three rooms I still need to look through, but I keep getting stuck in the music room. The instruments are so much fun to play!”

Marinette giggled. “Just make sure no one hears you.”

“Of course.” Tikki replied dutifully. Then her tone softened as she asked, “So.. what are you going to do about Adrien?”

Marinette groaned at the reminder and twisted on the chaise to bury her face in one of her throw pillows. Now that was the question of day, wasn’t it? What was she going to do about Adrien? She still hadn’t texted him, though she knew she was going to. It was in her nature. He’d apologized and begged for forgiveness, and the sweet side of her would never let that action go unrewarded. 

“What do you think I should do, Tikki?” She asked anyway, holding a vain hope that the kwami’s advice would dissuade her decision.

Tikki gave a thoughtful hum. “I don’t think I can answer that for you, Marinette. Everyone deserves a second chance, but you also deserve to be happy. If you think Adrien’s going to ruin that happiness, then you have every right to not meet up with him.”

A heavy sigh tumbled from Marinette’s lips. That was the very thing she struggled with. Everyone deserves a second chance, and she didn’t know what Adrien was going to do. She doubted he was planning on ruining her life, but no one ever does. (Er- most people never do.) So what course of action should she take? Should she tell him no because of the extremely likely chance that he’ll drag drama into her life once again? Or should she give him a well-deserved second chance for the sake of keeping at least one of her old friends and sedating her screaming conscience?

“Maybe..” Marinette paused to chew on her bottom lip. “Maybe I can invite him to lunch? Just one? To see how it goes?”

That would give her a middle ground for the time being, a way to test the waters and satisfy her urge to bring out the best in others. She could meet up with Adrien like he asked, then use the small amount of time to let him talk and let her assess the situation.

“That sounds like a great start.” Tikki said encouragingly.

A frown tugged at Marinette’s lips despite it, and she turned to look at her phone.

I’ve made the decision. Now all I have to do is text him..

A beat of silence passed in the room. Then, Marinette pushed herself off of the chaise and walked over to her mannequin, where her dress for the party was placed. She plucked a needle from her cushion and reached for a piece of string to tie through it.

“Marinette?” Tikki called, curious and concerned.

“I’m fine.” She assured, more to herself than Tikki. “I just want to finish the final touches on this dress.”

Marinette would text him. She would.

Just.. tomorrow.

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[gukyi]

good luck charm | kth

summary: kim taehyung has nearly everything he’s ever dreamed of: an apartment in new york city, a lead role in an off-broadway play, and a best friend to share it with. but even still, there’s one thing missing—love. and when he goes on the hunt for it, he dots every i and crosses every t, leaves no stone unturned, but forgets to look at the person who could ever love him the most: you.

{friends to lovers!au, roommates!au, actor!au}

pairing: kim taehyung x female reader genre: fluff, angst, unrequited love word count: 11k a/n: a huge thank you to MK for commissioning me for this piece–i hope it’s everything you dreamed of!!!! these are tough times, but i hope this can serve as a distraction to everyone!! please stay safe and wash your hands! if you’re interested in commissioning me, check out this post! also, if the pictures are unclear, click on them for higher resolution!

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite customer.”

You see a tuft of purple hair sticking out behind a basket of orange pansies, two nimble hands with long fingers fiddling with the stems. 

“I bet you say that to everyone,” you tease, as Namjoon peers out from where he’s hiding behind a shelf of flowers, greeting you with the same warm grin he always wears. 

Namjoon pauses, gaze tilting upwards as he corrects himself, “my favorite customer who’s about to confess to her best friend of four years with a bouquet arranged by yours truly?”

You roll your eyes, thankful that there’s nobody else inside this little flower shop. Not that you seem to have an issue exposing your entire life story to certain strangers, especially if they’ve got dimples and colored hair to match. Namjoon has always been something of an exception—perhaps he is one of the closest friends you have here in the city, where everything moves so quickly you barely have time to say hello to a new acquaintance. Namjoon and his flower shop are a respite, a safe haven in a bustling world, where time always seems to move slower than it does outside. 

“Don’t remind me, I’m sweating just thinking about it,” you tell him, trying to cover your nervousness with a laugh. 

“Ah, well how could I forget, when you came to me to arrange the perfect bouquet for tonight?” Namjoon says. He chops a wilting flower from its stem and places it behind his ear. Even though it’s a little sadder, a little less lively than its comrades, the bright yellow of the primrose complements his hair nicely, making him look even more ethereal, magical, than he already does. 

“Who else would I ask besides the best bouquet-maker in town?” You ask as Namjoon leads you to the counter, where various bouquets have been laid out in vases, ready for pick-up. It’s a secret garden here, all green and fresh and calm, a sharp contrast to the industrial machine outside. 

Namjoon heads to the back, a room behind a little wooden door that’s the slightest bit too short for him, so he has to bend down to avoid hitting his head (he still hits his head rather frequently, though), as you breathe in the scents of the flowers surrounding you, the roses and the daisies and everything in between. It’s not much, but it does calm the thick beating of your heart ever so slightly, and that’s enough. 

He emerges a minute or so later, banging his head on the way out. In his hands is one of the biggest bouquets you’ve ever laid eyes on, thick with some flowers you recognize but more you don’t. It’s breathtaking and gorgeous and impressive, all at once. 

“Namjoon, you know that I didn’t ask for this many flowers,” you chide as he plops the bouquet down onto the counter, clicking away at the ancient cash register to his left. 

“Consider it a good luck gift,” Namjoon tells you with a wink. 

You sigh, pulling out your card to pay him. “I could use all of the luck I could get.” The likelihood of tonight going more right than wrong is miniscule. But what else can you do, besides try? “What do they all mean?”

“Well, the daffodils represent honesty and truth. The red carnations mean love, obviously. So do the chrysanthemums. The baby’s breath is just for decoration, but it also means everlasting love. The gardenias are for secret love. And the freesia is just because I thought it went well with the bouquet,” Namjoon says expertly, pointing to each one as he tells you what it means. “I don’t know if Taehyung’s super up with his flower meanings, but I think that even the gesture will say more than enough. But if he is, this is just a bonus.”

“I feel like it’s going to go really badly, is that wrong?” You say, the nerves overtaking you. You were hoping to just act calm and collected, thank Namjoon for the bouquet and be on with your lives, but even you can’t help but seek advice from him. 

Namjoon lets out a laugh. “If you think it’s going to go so badly, why have you planned so much?” He poses. “It’s normal to be nervous about this sort of thing—what if I mess up, what if he doesn’t feel the same way, what if he rejects me—but I think that, deep down inside of you, there’s a part that thinks that it will all be worth it. And I don’t know, maybe I’m just a sucker for happy endings, but I think that that’s the most important. The part of you that doesn’t want to spend the rest of its life thinking about what might have been.” Namjoon’s phone lights up next to him, his lockscreen a picture of him and another boy, shorter, but with the same dyed hair. The two look so happy together. He gazes down at it, exhales, and shuts his phone off. “Just my two cents.”

“You’re wise beyond your years, Kim Namjoon,” you tell him with a smile. Maybe you are nervous about the what ifs, nervous that this whole thing could blow up in your face, but is it so naive of you to listen to that whisper in your heart? The one that says, maybe he feels the same? “I wish you’d take your own advice, sometimes.”

“It’s different,” Namjoon murmurs to himself. “He and I… this is all we’ll ever be.”

“You don’t know unless you try,” you tell him. You know the feeling. Perhaps, if tonight goes well, it will encourage him to give it a shot himself. “You never know.” Namjoon looks up at you, smile wide but eyes sad. There’s clearly something more that he isn’t mentioning, but you won’t push it. You get it. How could you not? “What if he does feel the same?”

The bell above the door rings on your way out, fingers clenching onto a bouquet, praying and wishing and dreaming that maybe this will all be worth it, in the end.

Something is up with Kim Taehyung. 

When you return to your apartment, Kim Taehyung is slouched on your dinky loveseat, arm deep inside a six-month-old box of Frosted Flakes, as an episode of Jeopardy! plays on his laptop, his eyes empty and glazed over as he stares at Alex Trebek, wordless.

You nearly jump in shock, terrified that he’ll spot you and the enormous bouquet in your hands, terrified that he’ll ask you about it, terrified that your entire plan for tonight will get flushed down the toilet the moment you and him lock eyes. But it doesn’t, because Kim Taehyung doesn’t even acknowledge you when you walk in, for better or for worse, and you manage to stash the bouquet into a vase in your bedroom before rounding on your roommate, because something is up with Kim Taehyung. 

Kim Taehyung hates Frosted Flakes. The only reason they’re in your apartment to begin with is because Jungkook had brought them over one time when he was visiting, and even then they were stale. Now they’re extra stale. So stale that they make a hollow sound on your countertop when you tap them against the laminate. 

Kim Taehyung normally shuffles through Jeopardy! like it’s nobody’s business. He gets at least a quarter, if not half of the questions correct, and always earns more points than you. But he doesn’t even open his mouth when Alex Trebek says, “This Renaissance artist left Florence to serve as principal engineer for the Duke of Milan’s army” and you know that he knows it’s Leonardo Da Vinci. 

Kim Taehyung normally has plenty to say, especially to Sawyer the Suspicious Floor Dip, who currently resides in your living room. Sawyer the Suspicious Floor Dip has been your honorary second roommate ever since the two of you moved into this apartment four months ago. Taehyung made him a little museum placard that is framed and hanging on the wall above him, and he has an account on every social media website under the sun. Sawyer the Suspicious Floor Dip has more followers on Instagram than you do. But today, both he and Sawyer are silent and unmoving. 

“Tae?” You ask, treading over to the couch as he empties the box of Frosted Flakes into his stomach, finishing up the episode. “Is everything alright?”

“Mmrph,” he mumbles in response. You suppose that means he said fine, which means that no, everything is not alright. 

“What’s going on? You’re normally really excited the day of your shows,” you ask. At least he hasn’t entirely turned into a soulless hermit, and he moves his legs off of the couch so you can sit beside him. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Taehyung says, louder. “I don’t know. I feel like it’s going to go really badly, is that wrong?”

You smile softly, shaking your head as you reach a hand out, letting it rest in his lap before he takes your hand in his. “No, it’s not. Tonight’s a big deal, isn’t it? You must be under a lot of pressure to do well.”

“I’m just so worried that I’ll fuck it up and everyone will hate me forever,” Taehyung says, exasperated. It’s almost as if he’s tired with himself for being so negative. 

“You’re not gonna fuck it up and nobody is going to hate you. I’ll always love you, you know that,” you assure him. 

“Yeah, I know,” Taehyung says, but the worst part is that you’re not sure if he really does. 

“It’s okay to be nervous, and to worry. Tonight is really important. But you’re an incredible actor, and you’ve always been so good at what you do,” you tell him, thumb rubbing against the back of his hand softly. “I can’t tell you how proud I am of you.”

Taehyung lets his head rest on your own and the two of you sit together on the couch in silence, watching as the minutes on his laptop clock tick by. You can hear his heartbeat, steady and soft, firm underneath his chest. You wonder if he can hear yours. Hear how it’s picking up speed, hear how it beats only for him. 

“You always know what to say,” Taehyung tells you. “I wish I knew how to do that.”

You grin sadly to yourself, happy that the two of you are side by side so he doesn’t have to see your face. How could Taehyung tell you something like that? How could he, when every time you’re near him, you’re speechless?

You never really considered yourself to be a theater person when you were younger. You would fall asleep when you went to see plays with your parents or on a school field trip. You never made an effort to go see the performances that your school put on. You were one-hundred percent confident that you would go through all four years of university without seeing one of the fifteen different theater groups’ shows, not because you hated them, but because they never crossed your mind in the first place. 

And then, you met Kim Taehyung. 

You met Kim Taehyung halfway through your freshman year because the two of you were in the same Cinematography in the 1900’s class. And then, suddenly, you were eating the same shitty food in the dining hall after class ended at seven in the evening. And then, suddenly, you were studying together, spending nights watching Jeopardy! on his laptop when you didn’t feel like doing any work. And then, suddenly, Kim Taehyung mentioned in passing one day that he had a show that Friday, and would you like to come, it would really mean a lot to him, he thinks you’ll really like it. 

And then, suddenly, you were a theater person. 

That night was the first night Kim Taehyung had ever taken your breath away. And every performance, every night, every fucking moment after that, he never stopped.

Tonight is no exception. You can’t say that you’re super well-versed in theater fame and its technicalities, but you think that this may just be Taehyung’s best performance yet. Here, in this theater off of Sixth Avenue, to a crowd of two, perhaps three hundred people, Taehyung is nothing short of amazing. He never is. From the moment he steps on stage in a raggedy old flannel and jeans, eyes wide with dreams, he reels you in and makes sure that you won’t leave this theater, won’t leave here unscathed. But the fatal blow is halfway through, when he finally spots you in the third row, sees you staring up at him in wonder, and he smiles. 

There is so much that you wish you could tell him. 

After the show, you race back to your apartment, desperate to finish up the last of the preparations before he arrives, after taking off all of his makeup and his costumes, saying goodbye to all of his co-stars. Normally, you’d hang around, let him introduce you, but tonight is different. Special. 

[September 8th, 9:35PM]

You: Had to go home bc I’m planning a special something for the star of the night! Sorry I missed all of the fun afterwards You: Something very important to tell you

Taehyung: ohoho Taehyung: I wonder who that could be Taehyung: Coming soon. I have something to tell you too! ^^

You stare at the text as you grab the vase of flowers from your room, setting it up at your very unimpressive kitchen table. What could Taehyung possibly have to tell you? Other than perhaps a thanks for showing up (as if you weren’t going to). 

What if, that voice whispers. The part deep in your heart, the one that you wish would shut up sometimes. 

“No,” you say aloud, perhaps more for yourself than anyone else. “No. I have something to tell him. I have to tell him this.”

You never know, she says. He might. What are you waiting for?

You pull out all of the scented candles in the apartment, setting them up on the coffee table and on the windowsills. There’s a plate of macarons that you had purchased from the fancy bakery in Midtown sitting by the vase, a little treat for the two of you since your diets usually consist of premade Costco pasta and takeout. 

There is so much you want to tell him. So much to say, and no way to do it. It seems impossible. As the minutes tick by, as he gets closer and closer, you wonder if you even have the courage to open your mouth. It’s not as if this is life-changing news. It would be so easy, so easy to just pretend that this is nothing but a celebration of Taehyung’s very first major off-Broadway show, to push down the ache in your heart and tell that voice to stay quiet, if only for a little longer. You’ve lived like this for so long already. Who’s to say you can’t live like this forever?

Taehyung comes home as you’re flicking through late-night television show reruns and fiddling with a Rubix cube, anything to keep your mind occupied and your fingers busy. You hear as he fumbles with the lock—his key has always been a little bit off—and scramble to get everything ready, shutting your laptop and putting the Rubix cube on your designated Weird Stuff Shelf. The apartment smells like a hodgepodge of vanilla, flowers, cinnamon, and champagne, and the flowers are already starting to wilt slightly. But it’s now or never, really. 

Taehyung swings the door open with a grin and gasps in excitement when he sees you, standing in the hazy, flickering yellow light of the kitchen, surrounded by candles, with a plate of macarons and a vase of flowers on the table. 

“Oh my God!” He says, overjoyed, high off of the adrenaline from a successful show, eyes still sparking from the spotlight. “Y/N! What is all of this?”

“Just a little something from me to you,” you say awkwardly. You have no idea how to tell him. You’re not sure if you even will. “To celebrate.”

“Dare I say, this apartment has never looked better,” he tells you, beaming. He walks over to where you’re hovering by the kitchen table, knee deep in it all, admiring the sight before him. He leans over you, ever so slightly, as he takes in the scent of the flowers, the macarons sitting before him. And then he turns to you, the glow from the candles making his eyes warm and caramel-y, almost as if they’re shimmering in the light, and he says, “You did all of this for me?”

“Of course,” you tell him, because you would do this again and again if it means you could see him like this. If you could watch him burst through the front door for the rest of your goddamn life, watch as he comes home to you. “Tonight’s special.”

“It wouldn’t be without you,” he tells you honestly, candidly. He tells you that because he means it. You wish you could say the same things to him. “You’re my best friend, Y/N.”

It’s now or never. If he takes one step closer, turns to look at you one more time, you don’t know if you’ll still have the courage. You don’t know if you even have it right now, but tomorrow, when you wake up, you don’t want to regret this night. You don’t want to wonder what if, what might have been. You’ve been friends for so long. Who’s to say you can’t be more than that?

“I have something to tell you,” you breathe out, words heavy on your tongue. You can feel your heart seize up, almost like it’s holding its breath with you. 

“Right, you said that,” Taehyung says with a nod, stuffing a cherry macaron into his mouth. “I have something to tell you, too.”

“Do you want to go first?” You ask him. You just need a little more time. You just want to hear his voice once more. 

“Okay,” Taehyung says happily. “I got a girlfriend!” 

Oh. 

Oh. 

Well. 

Okay. 

“Really?” You ask, trying to make it sound more like a Really? That’s great! and not a Really? I thought that we had something special. You don’t think that you’re doing a very good job.

“Yeah!” Taehyung says. He’s ecstatic. It tears your heart in two. “I mean, I know I’m just… a super, hopeless romantic and I fall in love with people when they hold the door open for me, but I’m really happy with her. It’s Ariel, actually, she played Lucy! Isn’t it funny how even though our characters never even officially met, we still found something there?”

“Yeah,” you say, emotionless. Taehyung is far too excited, far too joyous to notice. 

“I just—I wanted to tell you, because you’re my best friend and you deserve to know,” he says, breaking off half of the raspberry macaron and holding it out to you. “What did you want to tell me? Did you say it was important?”

“Oh, uh…” you fumble, shaking your head at the macaron. Your stomach has never felt smaller. It’s like there’s nothing left to say to him. “I think I’m getting transferred to another office.” It’s not news. Your job told you that last week. But it’s something, and it’s better than being honest. Anything is, at this point. “They might pay a little more.”

“Yay!” Taehyung says. “That’s great! Now, maybe we can fix up the lights in the kitchen. So they don’t read horror movie every time I try to make pasta at 2AM. I’m happy for you, you deserve it!”

You smile, putting on a brave face, just for him. “Me too.” You can’t muster up the strength to say anything else. 

Taehyung spends the rest of the night gobbling down the macarons and telling you all about Ariel, as you try desperately to tune him out. Even the sound of your own thoughts would be better than this. Anything. Anything. Eventually, after it’s long past midnight and Taehyung realizes he’ll need his sleep for the show tomorrow night, he bids you goodbye and sets off to his room, a bounce in his step.

You stand in the middle of your apartment. Even though it’s small, and even though you have him, it’s never felt emptier.

Namjoon always says that flowers don’t just need food and water to stay happy. They need love, they need to be surrounded by happiness. He says that they can feel it, that they react to it. That’s why he always tries to be happy when he’s working. Because he hates seeing the flowers so sad. He says they remind him of himself.

It’s no wonder why the flowers in the vase look even more wilted than before.

Here’s the thing: You had pretty much always known that it was going to hurt like this. There had always been that part of you, deep down inside, that knew that there was no way it wasn’t going to hurt like this. That knew that there was nothing you could do to stop it from hurting like this. 

And still, foolishly so, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, telling him would make it stop. You gave into this fantasy that, even if he didn’t feel the same, even if he let you down easy, even if he told you that he just wanted to be friends, it would be better. 

That’s the worst part of it all, really. The fact that you never even told him. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Didn’t. You never told him, and now, somehow, everything is even worse than before. 

The flowers have long been thrown out by now, tossed out after hardly a week, unable to stand the tension in the air, the emptiness that lingered far beyond that night. Still, you remembered to keep one, plucking it from the vase before it died of secondary sadness. Because even if they hurt you, even if they tear at your heartstrings one by one, you’ve always had this terrible habit of never letting go of what you love. You pressed the flower with an old college textbook, placed it into a thin little vase, meant for one flower only. A red carnation, to remind you of what you could have had. What might have been. 

Kim Taehyung is significantly less worried this time around as he prepares for the opening night of his latest play. He wakes up early and does some yoga in the living room, pushing all of the furniture to the walls so he has enough space to Downward Dog in peace. He watches a couple episodes of Jeopardy! as he eats the Pad Thai he Doordashed to your apartment, and gets half of the questions correct. Even from your bedroom, you can hear him talking to Sawyer. 

“I’m excited for tonight, Sawyer,” he says to him. “I don’t know, last time I did Shakespeare was sophomore year in college, I think? I was Mercutio. It was fun and I got to use a sword. Y/N came to that show, too. I annoyed her so much that night that she told me that she was glad Tybalt killed me, but we had a good time anyway.”

Sawyer doesn’t say anything back, because he is a Suspicious Floor Dip in your living room. But it’s so lovely to hear Taehyung’s voice again. 

“Do you think that Y/N’s been acting weird, lately?” Taehyung asks. “I just feel like—I feel like she and I aren’t as close these days. She works in her room a lot more and some days I don’t see her at all. Which is crazy, because we live together. My ex always said it was a little weird how I lived with my best friend who is also a girl. But I don’t think it is. Do you think I did something wrong?”

No, you wish you could say, leaning against your thin bedroom door as you hear Taehyung wonder aloud. Never, in a million years. It was me, you want to tell him. I got my hopes up and now I’m paying the price. It’s not you. It’s never you. 

“Yeah, I guess she’s just busier these days,” Taehyung says with a sigh. “She did get transferred to that new office a couple of months ago. But she’s still my best friend. I’ll never stop telling her that—she deserves to know that no matter what, she always has me.”

“Sawyer the Suspicious Floor Therapist, huh?” You interrupt, finally getting the nerve to open your door. Taehyung’s on his way out, all dressed, backpack on his shoulder. He has to be at the theater a few hours before the show begins, anyway. 

“He’s just so easy to talk to,” Taehyung jokes. “Did you… uh… did you hear that?”

“The part about being your best friend?” You ask with an eyebrow raise, making Taehyung smile. You don’t mention the other things you heard. You don’t think that would make things better. 

(You’re not sure what will, at this point. Telling him is off the table. You distantly wonder if it was ever on the table to begin with.)

“Just making sure you knew,” Taehyung says with a grin. “Don’t want you forgetting about that.”

“How could I?” You muse, and it makes him smile something fierce and makes you wish that things were different. 

“You’re coming tonight, right?” Taehyung says. He must know the answer, already. 

“Of course I am,” you tell him. “Who do you take me for?”

“I’ll look for you in the crowd, okay?” Taehyung says, a hand on the doorknob as he gets ready to leave. “Keep an eye out for me. Promise?”

It’s always been so hard to say no to him. 

“Promise,” you tell him. 

That night, you sit a little further back, shadowed by the mezzanine above you, but Taehyung finds you anyway. As he schmoozes his way through the storyline on stage, he sends a wink your way, a couple of the girls in the row in front of you giggling to each other when he does. You sort of wish he was really winking at them. That way, it would hurt a little less. 

Afterwards, you linger around in the lobby, waiting for him like you always have, like you always do, like you always will. You don’t have anything special waiting for him back at your apartment. There’s nothing left to tell him. 

You spot his head of soft, wavy brown hair far before he spots you, can make it out in a sea of cast members as they cheer for themselves, celebrating another successful opening show. Your face lights up when you see him, when you see that he sees you. This is how it has always been. This is how it should be—you find each other in the crowd, grinning as you congratulate him, as he introduces you to his cast members and then invites you to the afterparty. You spend the night together, high off of the adrenaline and just a little tipsy, before stumbling back to your apartment, basking in the afterglow. 

You want nothing more than for things to go back to the way they were. 

And then, you see her. 

“Y/N!” Taehyung shouts excitedly, and it takes all of your strength to not let your face fall as she comes into view, hand interlaced with Taehyung’s. “I knew you’d be here!”

“How could I not be?” You say, letting Taehyung wrap you in a one-armed hug rather than two. “You know me.”

“This is my girlfriend,” Taehyung introduces proudly, motioning to the pretty girl beside him as she waves at you good-naturedly. “Madison, this is my roommate and college best friend, Y/N.”

“Taehyung talks about you non-stop,” Madison says with a smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“All good things, I hope,” you say, because what else are you supposed to say to the love of your life’s new girlfriend? How else can you salvage this conversation when you already see it going terribly? “You both were really good tonight. I’m happy that I came.”

“Me too!” Taehyung grins. “Did you see me wink at you? I promised you I would.”

You nod, eyes desperately scanning the rest of the room, the rest of the people, the floor, anything to keep from watching as Madison drapes herself over Taehyung, intertwines their hands as she leans against him, like she can’t get enough of him. 

“Hey, do you want to come to the afterparty? It’s at Alex’s house, apparently he has this brownstone in Brooklyn all to himself, I’ve heard it’s gorgeous—”

“No, actually, I have a lot of work that I need to catch up on,” you interrupt. You don’t think you’d last five minutes there, where the only person you know is Taehyung, where he’s got a girlfriend on his arm the entire time. You aren’t even sure how you’re faring now, if you’re even  breathing, standing before him and his equally-gorgeous new partner. 

You just wish everything could go back to normal.

Taehyung’s brows furrow, disappointed. “Oh, you do? But—”

“Yeah, I’m just—I’m really sorry, Tae, you know I want to. But I should get going. It was really nice meeting you, Madison, I hope we can see each other again sometime—” You spew out a few more goodbyes and even more apologies as you rush towards the exit, turning away so you don’t have to see Taehyung calling after you. 

On the way back, you bump into Namjoon, who’s closing up shop for the day. He looks positively exhausted, always working diligently from morning to far past sunset every day, but he smiles when he sees you, setting aside his tired eyes to say hello. 

“Hey, Y/N, fancy seeing you here,” he greets. “How are you? How’d it go?” He gives you a sort of grin that means that he thinks it went super well. 

“Not great,” you tell him truthfully, because it’s late and you don’t feel like hiding things anymore. 

“Oh,” Namjoon says. He opens his mouth to say something else, but you can see the hesitation in his eyes, the way he thinks that none of the things he has to say will go down very well. You know the feeling. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s alright,” you assure him, even though it’s not. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Namjoon asks solemnly. 

You frown. “Do you really think we should both be having this conversation?” Namjoon has his own secrets, his dreams of a short boy with colored hair by his side. “You aren’t much better.”

“No, I’m not,” he muses to himself. “But it is a big deal, Y/N. Please don’t act like it isn’t. You love him, don’t you? Even if he doesn’t love you back.”

You love him. 

It’s not a secret anymore. 

You love him like the stars love the moon, surrounding her in their light, making sure she never gets lonely. You love him like an old Hollywood movie, film faded and worn, getting played once in a while to make sure you never forget where you started. You love him like a flower, carnations, daffodils, chrysanthemums, perking up when you’re around him and wilting when you’re not. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you say with a sigh. Certainly, there are more important things to dwell on. You’re looking for a new job because being an office temp isn’t exactly what you were envisioning for your life. You want to start fixing up the bathroom, because the grout by the shower is starting to disintegrate. Sawyer the Suspicious Floor Dip is a fire hazard. “I’m okay with just being friends.”

Namjoon smiles, and it’s so sad, but not with pity. It’s sad with I know, and sad with feeling, because he gets it, and that must be why you’re here, standing on the sidewalk at ten on a Friday night, underneath the street lamps as the city begins to open its eyes. “But when you have him the way you do, how can you be okay with any of it?”

Taehyung comes home late that night, and you only know because you’re running to the bathroom at the same time he fumbles with the door. He takes longer than usual, which means he’s drunk, and you can only hope and pray that he’s alone. You watch as he finally manages to unlock the door, stumbling inside, managing to turn on the main overhead lights in your apartment as he does. From where you’re peering at him from the darkness of the hallway, you can make out dark red, purple spots all along his skin. 

You pull the bathroom door almost shut, leaving it a little ajar so you can gaze out at him, watch as he pours himself a glass of water and downs the entire thing before he makes his way to the hallway, heading for his bedroom. From here, you see the way his hair is mussed, all fucked up from someone’s hands in it, see the marks up close, the way they line his neck, his jaw, his collarbones. He finds his way to his bedroom and shuts the door behind him as you stand, trapped in the bathroom, mad at him for not knowing but furious at yourself for being so ridiculous.

Love was never supposed to hurt like this. 

The next time that you attend one of Taehyung’s opening nights, you don’t stick around long afterwards. 

You were planning on it, of course, like you always do, because ever since college you’ve made a point to see him after a show, tell him all of the things you wish you could say to him all of the time, you were amazing, you were brilliant, you were perfect in every way. You even have a small bouquet of flowers in your hands, arranged by none other than Namjoon—a pity bouquet, an I hope that you two can still be friends bouquet—ready to give to him, ready to see them sitting on your kitchen table as a reminder. 

And then, you see the way he kisses her, overcome with joy, running on that post-show high. You see the way he pulls her into him and plants one on her, arms wrapped around each other as they celebrate, in their own special way. 

Suddenly, the flowers feel like dead weight in your hands. 

You manage to catch one of the few co-stars of Taehyung’s that you recognize, one who was in Our Lives with him. His name is Seokjin, and he’s gorgeous. Broadway material. Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, Tony material. He stops to say hello to you, and you ask if he could give the bouquet to Taehyung, tell him it was from you. 

Seokjin’s nice. He doesn’t ask why, he just nods. It saves you the trouble of telling him. Nobody wants to listen to your sob story. He says goodbye to you, and that he hopes to see you again soon. You hope so too. 

You spend the night curled up in your room pretending that everything is fine. You don’t see Taehyung when he comes home, and you don’t see him the next day, either. 

It’s not as if you’ve started to avoid Taehyung entirely. You live together—it would be downright impressive if you didn’t see each other for a whole day. It’s just, sometimes he still—

“Y/N? Wanna order Pad Thai?”

“Hey, Y/N, they’re playing The Devil Wears Prada on Freeform, do you want to come watch with me?”

“Central Park is having a Dog Festival, do you wanna go together?”

And sometimes, you just can’t. The thought of spending time with him makes your heart ache, whether it be from not wanting to be too close, or from missing him terribly. Either way, you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to muster up the same courage you once had. 

Turning to look at the pressed carnation in the vase atop your dresser, you laugh to yourself. It’s hard to believe that just a few months ago you thought that you would finally be able to tell him, to open up your heart and let him look into it like a kaleidoscope. Hard to believe that there was once a time when you thought that maybe, just maybe, he loved you back. It feels like it was eons ago. Like it was another universe entirely. 

You know that it’s not right for you to do this to Taehyung. He’s still your best friend. He always will be. He has no idea. He’ll never know. 

But sometimes—

Sometimes he comes home love drunk, wasted on kisses, splotches of pink lip gloss decorating his skin. 

Sometimes he spends dinner telling you all about the date he went on, the amazing vodka shrimp linguine he had, as the two of you eat Kirkland spaghetti in your dinky apartment. 

Sometimes he tells you that you’re his best friend, and that he misses you. 

Being in love with Taehyung had always been easy. It was being best friends, and making sure to keep the feelings a secret, that was hard. 

Taehyung isn’t home tonight. You hadn’t asked him where he’d be. You didn’t think that it mattered. 

And you tell yourself, over and over again, that it doesn’t matter. That you don’t need to know where he is every second of every day. He’s got a life outside of what exists in your stuffy apartment, a whole world of people craning to see him. He has reviews written about him in  The New York Times and people lining up outside the theater for his autograph on their Playbill. There’s so much more to his life than what he has with you. 

It’s better this way, you tell yourself, even if it’s not. Even if every time you step into your apartment, glance over at the vase on the kitchen table, you are reminded that it’s worse. Every time you see a damn carnation, daffodil, chrysanthemum, you can’t help but wish that things were different. You’re even starting to avoid Namjoon. 

That night finds you at a small Italian restaurant in a tiny alley off of Ninth Street. You’ve never been, but it had good reviews on Yelp and you could do with spending some time alone, wallowing in your feelings somewhere other than your bedroom. You’re starting to feel suffocated just being there. It would be good for you to get out. 

It would be good for you to get out, because the apartment reeks of what ifs, of what could have beens, and you can’t spend more than five minutes inside without throwing yourself your own personal pity party. You hardly see Taehyung nowadays because you can’t bear looking into his eyes anymore. Everything is awful, and you wish that it wasn’t, but you don’t know what to do to fix it. 

But Fate seems to love doing that thing where it’s out to get you. From the moment you met Kim Taehyung, Fate decided that you would be her next target. That no moment with him would leave you unscathed. And tonight is no exception. 

It’s just your luck that, ten minutes after you’re seated, the bell above the door rings to signal another customer, and you look up to see Taehyung and his girlfriend strolling in, glowing under the warm yellow light. You’ve never been more thankful, in that moment, to be seated right beside the bathroom, just out of sight of the booth that the hostess leads them to. It’s terrible, and it’s terrible, and it’s terrible. You watch as they order two glasses of a fancy rosé and giggle as they cheers to their show, to their lives, and to themselves. They spend the evening in the light of a single exposed bulb above their head, laughing and smiling and talking. 

The craziest part is that once upon a time, that would have been you. You and Taehyung would have decided that the night was a restaurant day and not a stay-at-home-and-cook-meal day. You would have found a quaint little place on Yelp and gotten the cheapest food on the menu. Once upon a time, you looked like that. 

[April 17th, 7:34PM]

Taehyung: [image sent] Taehyung: MMMMM look at this yummy yummy fish that I had tonight!! Taehyung: We should go here sometime!! I think you’d like it hehe

You look down at your plate. The food in front of you tastes like ash. 

“Congrats,” you say when you hear Taehyung leaving his bedroom, feet padding against the hardwood floor as he makes his way to the kitchen. 

“Huh?” Taehyung asks, eyes wide. It’s almost as if he’s surprised to see you out here, sitting on the couch, answering emails. Like he can’t believe you’re in your own home. You can’t blame him. “What are you talking about?”

“The review on The New York Times,” you tell him distantly, switching over to the tab on your computer where you read it. There’s a picture at the top of Taehyung and his co-star, front and center, holding hands as they look off into the distance, staring into an unknown future. “It’s your first five star review, isn’t it? They even listed it as the Critic’s Pick.”

“Oh, I… uh,” he begins, “I haven’t seen it yet. Been too busy.”

Bitterly, you wonder why. Even when you two are further apart than you have ever been, even when he spends all day out of the apartment and you spend all day inside, even when you barely fucking see each other, you can’t help but click on the articles that mention him, scroll through every review that mentions his name. 

Things might be different now, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t be proud of him. Of what he does. Of who he is. 

“Well, they said great things,” you tell him, sparing him the trouble of looking. “You deserve it.”

“You’re coming tonight, right? You have to, if the play is getting such good reviews,” Taehyung asks, an olive branch. You’ve spent so much time doing everything you can to keep your relationship as distant as possible, hiding in your bedroom and eating dinner at odd hours. But this is the one thing that you both can still hold onto. Taehyung’s shows, his performances, and you, in the audience, always finding his eyes. If everything else is in shambles, at least you will always have this. “I think you’d like it.”

“It sounds very Matrix-y.”

“Well,” Taehyung says, shrugging. “It sort of is. But it’s also about love. You’d like that, right?”

You suppose you’d like it a little more in another timeline.

Taehyung continues, barely giving himself time to catch his breath. “Basically, these two kids are playing this life-simulation game where every move they make directly corresponds with the actions of the characters they’re playing as. Cue me and Lancaster. And we meet, and slowly fall in love, over a series of chance encounters. You know, a coffee shop, the bank, a restaurant.”

“Really?” You ask, brows furrowed. 

“Why?” Taehyung’s eyes widen in concern, smile downturned ever so slightly as he takes in your expression. 

“I don’t know—” you begin. There’s just something about the storyline that rubs you the wrong way. “Maybe I’m just being cynical. But is it really possible for two people to find love like that? Through chance? Luck?”

Perhaps, Namjoon would say. You can hear his voice echoing in your head now. After all, wasn’t it luck that brought the two of you together?

You shake his thoughts away. Namjoon’s got his own set of problems—he’s in no position to be the wise one in this scenario.

Taehyung shrugs, as if he’d never given that a thought to begin with. “I don’t know,” he says. “I think that love can blossom anywhere. Just so long as you nurture it, water it and give it lots of sunlight. I just—I think that if you look hard enough, you can find love anywhere.”

You turn to face him, blinking up at him as you stare at each other, sitting on this damn couch in the middle of your apartment. Taehyung waxes poetic in front of you, tells you that if you just fucking look for love, you’ll find it. But he doesn’t know—and he never will. You’ve been looking for love for the past four years, you’ve been searching in all of the nooks and crannies of your body, and the only place you’ve ever found it has been in the deep pit of your heart, dusty and quiet and forgotten. Even now, staring into his eyes, scanning every bit of his irises for even a sliver of it, a spark, you come up empty. 

How could he say something like that, when he lives with you? When he looks at you while you’re eating takeout or sitting and watching a movie together. Does he just not see it? Or worse—does he know, and just refuse to say anything?

Suddenly, your body turns cold. It’s hard to believe that someone as hopelessly romantic can’t see what’s right in front of him. 

“I wish that was how it worked,” you say sourly, the words leaving a bitter taste on your tongue. You snatch your laptop from the table and head into your room, leaving Taehyung alone on the couch, speechless.

He may be the one with flowers blooming in his heart, but you have been drowning for the past four years, and never have you felt further from the surface than right now. 

You don’t go to Taehyung’s opening show that night. 

Taehyung leaves to get ready at the theater at three in the afternoon, and you bid him goodbye before holing yourself up in your bedroom and keeping yourself busy. You start watching the newest season of Stranger Things and tidy up the knick knacks you have scattered all over the place. Anything to keep your mind occupied. 

Taehyung texts you during intermission.

[June 3rd, 8:55PM]

Taehyung: Hey are you here?

You don’t respond. 

By ten at night, you end up with the cleanest room you’ve had in years and half of the season left to watch. It’s not a great kind of busy. The red carnation atop your dresser stares into your soul and you nearly throw it out three different times. But it’s an okay kind of busy, because you don’t know if you could have beared to see Taehyung on stage tonight. See him dancing around with a beautiful girl on his arm, confessing his love for her and pulling her in for a kiss. 

Over the years, you have seen Taehyung kiss so many people. From the shy freshman boy cast next to him in a student-written play in college to the model-esque women on stage in an off-Broadway play with him. And it never used to hurt—not like this. You saw him lock lips with another and you supposed that that was just show business. 

But it’s not show business anymore. It stopped being show business that night, when he came home to an apartment lit up with candles, the sweet scent of macarons wafting through the air, and told you he had found someone. It hasn’t been show business since, not when Taehyung is looking for love and finds it everywhere except where you wish he would look most. 

Maybe you’re just being selfish. Taehyung doesn’t have to love you for you to love him. You knew that. You lived with that. He’s your best friend. He always will be. You can’t do anything to force him to love you back. You had always been fine with just being friends. 

But just—knowing that he doesn’t feel the same. Having that certainty rooted deep within you. That’s the part that hurts the most. 

Taehyung comes home earlier than he normally would on a day like this, catching you in the kitchen as you brew some chamomile tea, hoping that it will calm the waves that crash against the pier inside you. You turn to meet his eyes, and suddenly, you feel like you can’t see anything in them at all. 

“Why didn’t you come tonight?” He demands. “I looked for you and you weren’t there. Where were you?”

“Here,” you tell him. “I was thinking maybe I would go tomorrow.”

“But you’re always at my opening show,” Taehyung says, like you don’t know that already. “Why didn’t you come? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, you didn’t,” you tell him. You don’t think you’re drunk or tired enough for this conversation. At ten at night, you’re still cognizant, aware of what consequences this conversation might have when you wake up in the morning. 

“Then why weren’t you there? You know I need you there,” Taehyung pleads, coming up to you as you stand in your kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil.

“No, I didn’t know that,” you tell him firmly. You went to his opening shows because it was tradition. Not because it was necessary. 

“You’re my good luck charm, for god’s sake, Y/N,” Taehyung says, fists curled up at his sides. You can tell that he’s trying hard not to burst at the seams, like there are so many things he’s holding at the tip of his tongue. “I did such a shit job tonight without you there. I spent the entire first half of the show looking out into the crowd so much that Lancaster asked me if I had taken anything before we started.”

“That’s not my fault,” you tell him. “I didn’t know that you thought I was your good luck charm, or whatever.” And, because you’re bitter and petty and heartbroken, you add, “I would have thought that would be something your girlfriend is.”

Taehyung loses it. “What’s been going on with you, Y/N? Why are you being like this? Ever since my first show, I feel like we’re drifting further and further apart. You never want to spend time with me, you never want to come to my afterparties, you barely spare a glance at my girlfriends when I introduce them to you, and now, you’ve stopped coming to my shows. All of these things that I thought that we shared, ever since college. Tell me, Y/N, am I doing something wrong? Is there something that I’ve missed? Because it feels like we’re fucking strangers.”

The water finishes boiling, the kettle whistling on the stovetop as steam billows from the spout. “I’m not obligated to do any of those things, Taehyung,” you tell him harshly. “Just because we did them in college doesn’t mean I have to keep doing them now. What, did you think we’d still be doing that sort of stuff when we’re thirty? Forty, fifty? They were just college traditions.”

“‘College traditions’?” Taehyung asks, astounded. “Were all of those nights that we spent together just college traditions, too? Are we not allowed to do those things anymore? I miss you, Y/N. I hate not having you around and tonight was the worst it’s ever been. I don’t know what to do or say, I don’t know how to fix this, I don’t even fucking know what’s broken.”

“I just need space, Taehyung,” you tell him, hands gripping the edge of the countertop as you stare at the laminate, eyes tracing the lines to keep you from meeting his own. “I just need some time to myself, that’s all.”

“But why, Y/N?” Taehyung pleads, He reaches over to grab your hand, holds it in between the two of you like a lifeline. 

“‘Why?’” You echo angrily. “You don’t know? You can’t tell? We’ve known each other for four years and you haven’t realized?” You tug your hand from his grasp. It’s clear you’re beating a dead horse. You wonder why you even tried in the first place. How naive you were, standing in the kitchen surrounded by scented candles and flowers and macarons, dreaming of a life with him by your side. Foolish. 

“Realized what?” 

“That I’m in love with you!” You shout, and the world goes silent. The kettle stops whistling, the water having evaporated into nothing, the packet of chamomile tea left, forgotten on the countertop. You stand there, breaths heavy, chest heaving, as you look at Taehyung, angry and mad and in love, all at once. 

“You’re what?”

“Don’t make me say it again,” you hiss. “I already know that you don’t feel the same.”

“Y/N, wait—”

“Goodnight, Taehyung.” You turn on your heels, storming into your bedroom and collapsing against the door. Finally, finally, finally, you let the tears wrack your body, sending shivers down your spine. There’s salt on your tongue and smudged liner beneath your eyes. 

You thought pressing flowers makes them last forever. But even the red carnation is starting to shrivel. 

Subject Title: New Project????

From Park, Seojoon, to me

Hi Taehyung,

You did a great job last night in Chance Card! Really proud of you for accomplishing so much. Pretty soon you’ll be on Broadway and be too big for a small manager like me. You’ll need an agent, and a publicist, and a stylist, and a dog-walker…

Anyway, just emailing to let you know that Hugo Cleveland reached out to me to see if you were interested in auditioning for his next play. He personally wanted to see if you liked the part, and would give you preference if you did want to audition. It’s called Cupid, and it’s another one of those modern-day retellings of an old tale. I thought you might like it. Attached is the script and a short description of the play. Let me know if you’d like to give it a shot! I think this might be the project that gets you onto Broadway!!

As always, contact me if you need anything at all.

Park

Taehyung, still in bed despite it being nearly noon, taps around on his phone, pulling up the description of the play. He hates reading PDFs on his phone, so he’ll check out the script on his laptop later. 

Cupid by Hugo Cleveland

Cupid chronicles the tale of the world’s most well known hopeless romantic—Cupid himself. Set in a world of magical realism, Cupid has the power to make two people fall in love with a single shot of his arrow, and spends his life walking around the city of New York, bow and arrow by his side. 

The only problem is that Cupid has no way to make people fall in love with him, because his magic operates under the assumption of soulmates—a single person meant for another. And as the years have gone by, he has searched and searched and searched over millennia, desperate to find love, but it’s almost as if everyone has soulmates except for him. 

Little does he know, he need look no further to find the person he shall spend the rest of his life with—not when his best friend has always been by his side. 

Taehyung glares at the description like it’s personally offended him. He knows that it’s just a coincidence that he happens to receive this email the morning after his fight with you, but he can’t help but feel like God is playing the world’s worst practical joke on him. 

Cursed with the memory of an actor, he replays last night in his head over and over and over again, looping the feed back and forth as your words echo in his mind. 

You don’t know? You can’t tell? We’ve known each other for four years and you haven’t realized?

He never knew what he was supposed to be looking for. You were just friends, you had always been just friends. But then he looked out in the crowd and couldn’t see you anywhere, couldn’t make out your eyes even in a sea of hundreds like he always does, and it felt like there was more than just another audience member missing. He spent the rest of the evening getting his hopes up, thinking that maybe you’re just sitting somewhere else, maybe you put in colored contacts, maybe you’re hidden by some really buff guy in front of you. 

He missed you, last night. He’s been missing you a lot recently, missing the way the days you spent together would bleed into nights. Missing the way you wrap your arms around him and smother him in cuddles, missing the way you always remember his takeout order for the fifteen different restaurants you frequent. Missing the way he once thought that you could spend your whole lives together. 

Realized what?

He supposes that he has always been a bit foolish. All of his ex-girlfriends broke up with him, never the other way around. And while they all ended on good terms, they all said the same thing to him: it always seemed like his heart belonged to someone else. But he misread that, too. He just thought that he hadn’t found the right person, yet. He would keep searching until he did. 

That I’m in love with you!

The craziest thing about it all is that your confession didn’t even shock him that much. After the initial surprise wore off, it was almost as if the dust settled around you, the storm finally calming. Like finding the last puzzle piece after thinking it had been lost for days. Like feeling everything click into place.

Taehyung has been thinking a lot about last night, but his least favorite part is always this:

I already know that you don’t feel the same.

He wishes that he could have told you. He wishes that he could have been strong enough, could have realized what he had before it slipped through his fingertips. Wishes that he could have reached out and grabbed onto you and never let go. There’s nothing more that he wants to do than see you again. You live in the same tiny New York apartment, and you’ve never felt further away from him. 

Taehyung wills himself out of bed and washes his face, clearing away the leftover makeup and the sleep in his eyes. It’s a fresh start. It’s a new day. 

He sees you standing in the kitchen, making that tea that you had left forgotten last night. He catches your eyes for just a second before he loses them again, watches as you turn your back to him in a desperate attempt to avoid contact. 

“I got a new potential show to audition for,” he says loudly, breaking the silence. 

“That’s cool,” you say, emotionless. 

“Do you want to know what it’s about?”

You don’t respond. Taehyung takes this as a cue to continue. 

“It’s about a boy on a search for love,” Taehyung begins, rallying himself despite only being able to see your back. “And he goes out and sees all of these people falling in love and wants that for himself. And he wonders why nothing is sticking, why he can’t seem to fall in love with anybody. And then he realizes that the reason he can’t seem to fall in love with anyone else is because he’s already found his person.” A pause. He’s just summarizing a story, but this feels like a confession. “His best friend.”

You turn around sharply, tea sloshing in the cup in your hand. Taehyung inhales, then exhales. It’s now or never. You’ve been friends for so long. Who’s to say you can’t be more than that?

“Don’t you think I’d play this part well?” He asks. 

You shrug, closing your eyes and breathing heavy. He can tell that you’re holding something back, trying not to burst at the seams. “I’m not sure, Tae.”

“I think I would,” Taehyung tells you confidently. He takes a step closer to you, reaches over to take the cup of tea from your hands, placing it on the counter. “Because I’ve been doing it for so long, already.”

You gasp when he kisses you, a gust of air escaping your lips and immediately mixing with his, seize up at the feeling of his lips on yours. Immediately, Taehyung wonders if he’s overstepped a boundary, or two, or five, but then he feels you relax under his touch, feels you reach your hands up to cup his cheeks as you press against him insistently, drunk on the taste of his lips on your own. 

Taehyung’s kissed a lot of people in his day, but this one is different. He’s felt sparks, seen fireworks, but with you, it’s as if he’s sinking into a warm bath after a cold day. As if he’s returning to an apartment filled with the things he loves after a long day out. As if he’s coming home. 

All of these emotions, all of the little things tucked away in the corners of his soul, in the dark attic of his heart, come bubbling up to the surface, and all he can do is hope that you can feel them, swallow them up like wine, as you press your lips against his, grinning. 

Finally, you pull yourself away, almost as if you think you’ll get drunk if you keep going. 

“How long?” You ask. 

Taehyung shrugs. “I don’t know. A while now, definitely.”

“Really?”

“I think so,” Taehyung says. “I guess that I was wrong, what I said before about looking for love. I looked everywhere, I wanted to see it in every spark that was set my way, but I forgot the most important place. I should have known.” You curl into his touch, resting your head against his chest as his arms wrap around your waist. “How about you?”

“Forever,” you breathe out. “It started and it never stopped.”

Taehyung beams. The flowerbud in his heart had been shuttered for so long, hardly watered and never in the sun. And then suddenly, the curtains opened up and the clouds began to cry, and everything blossomed. You make him feel like he’s always home. You make him feel safe. 

You make him feel like a red carnation in bloom.

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

[interrogatethecat]

Roots

Dean Winchester hasn’t had roots since he was four years old. Since his mom was killed, the only home he’s known has been the Impala, too busy carrying on the family business to miss having one.

Cas has roots, and he despises them. Maybe he’s left his family behind, but it’s hard to let go of something you’ve been told your whole life.

When Dean and Cas’ paths collide on a hunt, perhaps there’s something to be learned.

The thing about roots is that they can be replanted somewhere new. And, they always grow back.

chapter three is up! read it in full here on ao3 or preview it under the cut. or, start from the beginning.

In all honesty, Cas wasn’t entirely sure what Charlie saw in The Hobbit. The writing didn't particularly stand out as excellent— it was unnecessarily dense— and he didn't care for the plot. The characters didn’t feel exceptionally well rounded to him. The book’s one redeeming quality, he supposed, was the world building.

It gets so good! she had promised. I swear!

Trying to finish his chapter before he retired to his room for the night, Cas was beginning to doubt her.

They’d been tentative friends (or at least, Cas had been a tentative friend and Charlie dove all in) for a few weeks. Since then, she had made it her mission to catch him up on everything that he’d missed during his “sad, secluded, character building childhood,” from books to games to tv shows to movies. On quiet days at the bed and breakfast, Charlie would pop up and shove a book or a stack of them into Cas’ hands, or drag him off to his room lugging a backpack of DVDs with. Charlie was a lot, but Cas had found that he liked her.

Mildred had also been over more. He saw her once a week at the farmer’s market, and it seemed she was making a pattern of seeking him out once every other week instead of at random intervals. Cas talked more with Jody and Donna, too, at market days, and had slowly been getting to know Aaron, who ran the local florist’s.

And, of course, there was Dean. Maybe Dean wasn’t here in Himmel, but they texted and called each other.

It was different than the quiet, secluded life he’d initially made for himself. Talking to people outside guests— having friends was different. Cas liked it, even if it was hard getting the whispering in his head to shut up sometimes. Despite his decisiveness, telling the rule book he’d followed since the beginning of his existence to go fuck itself wasn’t like flipping a switch. Sometimes he found himself freezing up while he was over at Charlie’s for a movie night because he wasn’t supposed to do this. He made hasty retreats sometimes when he talked with Aaron over the counter after buying a new bloom.

Being alone helped. Using the quiet to remind himself that it was fine, things were okay, it wasn’t like that anymore. Reading offered an escape when things were too quiet. And strangely enough, Dean helped, too. Cas had found that talking to Dean was easier than hanging out with Charlie, or carrying a conversation with Mildred. Maybe because it was because he couldn’t see his face— maybe that made it easier for Cas to disassociate these conversations with breaking rules. Sometimes, when they were texting, he couldn’t hear Dean’s voice.

And Dean was already different. Something about him stood apart from the others.

tag list: @glowstickcas @angelscas @floral-cas @fellshish @castielsbeeslippers @dune-echo @gayhuckleberryinatrenchcoat @bestiarum @top13zepptraxx @linaraiscorner @theedorksinlove @destiel-is-canon-i-guess @blue-eyed-cutiepatootie @sansasworld

let me know if you want to be added or removed :)

[whatdamiwatched]

Max & Helen - From the Beginning...

In preparation for the sharpwin ship sailing next week, I went and rewatched season 1 to really contextualise the way their relationship has developed, and I have to say it was quite eye opening.

The Introduction

We are introduced to Georgia in the first scene with Max via his phone screen, there’s a photo of her as his background photo. Their first conversation on screen happens when he calls her in the middle of this day just after he speaks to Helen for the first time

Max- Just calling to say hi

Georgia- Really?

Max- isn’t that what people do?

Georgia- people, yes. You…not so much.

Max- I’m trying, I’m going to change, I’m going to win you back

Georgia- well you have 12 weeks.

It isn’t until later that we find out fully that this marriage is failing and being held together by guilt and a difficult pregnancy, which makes it even worse that Max’s attempt at “trying” was calling her in the middle of the day to say nothing compelling.

Enter Helen- confident, smart, an asset to the hospital and the only doctor Max personally seeks out on his first day- to insist that she immediately cut down on travel or get fired. While the other doctors are stats and figures to him when he starts at New Amsterdam, Helen is Dr Helen. Already their relationship is being established as different from his relationship with the other doctors. In a throat biopsy, he’s distracted by her on tv- so distracted in fact, that he’s pushed to give her another ultimatum even though the first one hasn’t expired.

Max’s ultimatum was significant for Helen because for the first time since she had been running and hiding from the pain in her life, someone saw her and cared enough to make her stop. Even though it was a medical director she just met, and it was because of work, it was grounding for her for someone to see her and need her in that way.

Her choosing to come back was significant, not just because of Max, but because it was the catalyst for facing the emotional baggage she had been trying to escape.

So here we are- Max in the hospital where his sister died and donated her organs, trying to find closure and Helen- weighed down by emotional baggage that she’s ready to face.

Tell Me One True Thing

Georgia and Max meet in the hospital where he works- her energy is light and energetic; their connection is fun and their first date is in the hospital cafeteria. From that scene, their banter is fun and flirty, but Max is relaxed – they both are, it’s an easy connection. When Max proposes, he does it by the hospital when he’s on call! He’s in his scrubs and not only does he think that’s okay- she thinks that’s okay.

Their relationship never really existed outside of his career, he never put her first, and she points this out when she finds out about the medical director job. She knows that he will not choose her over the hospital, especially not the hospital where Luna died. The thing is, Max doesn’t even really try. He never chooses her, and she never actually expects him to.

When he almost dies at the lake and has the temporary epiphany that he has to take his cancer seriously, she doesn’t advocate for him to leave his job- even though…he almost died. She knows the job still comes first. Georgia and Max’s relationship thrived on emotional distance- when Georgia begs him in her hospital bed to tell her one true thing- he could only say- I love you. While he and Helen debated his cancer treatment, her only input was going with what Max wanted? When he woke up from his minor tooth surgery, his first thought wasn’t how the surgery chain went, it was what helen said specifically.

I love my doctor

Before Helen, Max had likely never felt true intimacy and vulnerability. He had likely never been able to be himself completely with a partner. We don’t know much about his relationship with his parents, but we can deduce that he’s not close to them.

Although the physical chemistry was palpable from their first scene, Max and Helen built a friendship based on trust and honesty since they let each other in very early. This relationship was built with the best intentions but every relationship comes to a point where emotion supersedes emotion and that’s where we ended up at 1x 16 where the clairvoyant tells Max that he’s going to lose someone close to hum. As soon as she assured him that it wasn’t his wife, he pulls Helen aside to reassure her and try to explain how he feels about her ending by saying “I love my doctor”.IN THE MIDDLE OF TREATING A PATIENT IN THE MIDDLE OF A STORM WHILE MARRIED. At this point, both Max and Helen are at a crossroads of the undeniability of their connection, even though they are both too principled and respectful to call it anything other than “this thing between us”.

At the lake, when he goes to spread ashes for Luna, he says to her- or to the wind that he’s addressing as her- everything I do is because of you. I just keep trying to save you , over and over that’s all I do and I never, never will.

Now where did we end up hearing those EXACT words before?

In that moment, it’s Max admitting that he’s been consumed with emotions that are clouding his judgment and he has to let go.

When Helen uses those words in 2x16, the subtext is the same. By that time, she had saved his life and even Georgia’s life- multiple times. She even saved his life twice in one episode! She saved his life by taking on his cancer in the first place, she saved his life by choosing to pass him off to another doctor when he was using their relationship as an opportunity to not take his cancer seriously and she saved his life by making the decision for him to stop that treatment when it wasn’t working. She took on the role of deputy medical director- which let’s face it was more or less the medical director, she found him, not one but two trials, she gave up half her department that she loved more than anything. She gave up her romantic relationship- she meant it when she said everything I’ve done I’ve done for you- just like Max meant it when he said it to Luna. Max and Helen had have both poured themselves into people that couldn’t pour back, one because she was dead, and the other because he had too many warring emotions to deal with.

Helen could have let Max save her more- he definitely was willing to be that person and showed it many times, but we have to accept that she was in a very difficult position. Just as soon as she felt settled, started a new relationship, made a decision about freezing her eggs, she’s hit with a consuming, intimate relationship with someone that’s married. She had to leave some walls up.  

Everything I Do Is For You

Their characters have gone through a lot- Helen has a dead parent and a dead fiancée, fertility issues and a fear of vulnerability and the feeling of running out of time- Max has a dead wife, who he had outgrown emotionally, raising a child alone, battling with grandparents that blame him for their daughter’s death and parents that by all indications don’t play a significant role in his life, plus a dead sister he has carried with him his whole life. Finding each other was in many ways, the catalyst each of them needed to move forward with life at so many points. For Max, he could have very well died without Helen- Georgia could have died in the bedroom without Helen- his grieving process would definitely have been longer and more complicated without Helen – it wasn’t insignificant that she was the one that pushed the ghost of Georgia out of the apartment, she was an anchor through it all.

For Helen, she was pushed to come back to the hospital and by having that anchor to a place and her patients, she was able to explore romantic relationships and face her fertility and wanting a child head on, she was able to explore how much of herself she could give to another person again after Mohammed died and try another relationship. In turn, she was able to be in a different position when Mina came to live with her.

By Max receiving the kind of selfless love he had never gotten before (from the parts of his story we’ve been told), he was finally able to heal, from so much of the stuff he’d been carrying to come to a place where he feels able to match Helen’s energy. To come to a point where he’s able to see himself as a WHOLE person, not just a flawed one- not just a guilty one- not just an overworked or crazy or erratic one. The speech at the end of 3x13 to Luna’s parents showed just how far he’s come; how much he’s changed and how much his relationship with Helen has changed him. The confidence that he was enough as- is a Max that we had never seen before.

And Helen- naming them- before now, it’s always been Max with his double meanings  and his “I want to build something better for you and Mina” and “It helps not to be alone” and “I can’t do this without you”, but this time it’s Helen- Helen who is saying “us”- Helen who is putting them together as a family and is relaxed and comfortable doing so. Helen who isn’t simply giving him advice as a friend or listening to him but giving him advice as an anchor- we are here and we are fine and you need to fight for our family because it’s worth it.

I see you

The decon shower. His hand trailing down her neck. Those voicemails. Here they are finally, trying to get into an ADULT relationship. Moving beyond the cute hand holding and lingering looks, to hopefully many kisses, many distractions and many mornings waking up next to each other.

Sharpwin is coming and I’m ready!

[crystaljins]

Endless

Characters: Yoongi x Reader

Word count: 7.4K

Synopsis: You aren’t the chosen one. You’re not gifted with any special powers, or secret abilities. You’re just a plucky orphan who decided you’d come along for the ride. 

Bringing down an empire is no biggie, right?

Yoongi x reader

Notes: I actually really don’t like this fic, in all honesty. It’s definitely one of my weaker ones, but since I put a lot of effort into writing it, I thought I’d post it anyway! I’m having a real big writer’s block and everything I write just feels.... jilted and inauthentic. IDK. I feel like I’ve lost my ability to tap into what a character feels T.T ANYWAY even if I don’t like it, maybe you will! So please try and enjoy

This is written for @thebtswritersclub​ March prompt, “Adventure”!

Warnings: Poss some fantasy type violence? Sparring, Yoongi is a little mean sometimes but he has RESPONSIBILITIES! Lots of conversations from very not-socially-distanced positions. Mentions of wars and evil empire

Genre: Fantasy, angst-with-a-happy-ish-ending

It’s easy to see that Yoongi is angry. From the heavy thud of his boots against the firmly packed dirt to the furious hunch of his shoulders, everything about him screams that he is livid. Even the way his travelling cloak flutters about his form is ominous, like the dark roil of storm clouds on a distant horizon. 

You follow closely behind, meek and sufficiently scolded. He’s been like this for the better part of the afternoon, ever since you left the previous town behind. 

“Um,” you pipe up, hoping to power through the stormy silence that hangs over you. You’re rewarded with a lethal glare- no one does cold fury quite like Min Yoongi.

Hanging your head, you sigh, continuing following at a dutiful three paces behind the furious man. You find yourself missing Jungkook, sure that he would have the ability to overcome this kind of tension, were he here. Or even Jiyeon, as much as you dislike her- perhaps the “chosen one” wouldn’t trigger such ire in her fated mentor. Really, any sort of third companion would do, if not to pacify Yoongi, then at least to keep you company. Long silences aren’t really your thing, after all. 

You square your shoulders, straightening. At the next town, Jin and Hoseok await your arrival, and then you will have at least two more companions to chat to when Yoongi enters one of his “moods”.

Not that his “moods” happen very often. For a man who is almost infamously gruff and who seems to permanently have a scowl etched upon his face, his actual personality is fairly calm and unbothered. Years of journeying across the realm of Adlentur have resulted in an attitude where there is very little that can truly throw him off. 

Apparently, you possess that unique ability, for the calm mask he often adorns is nowhere to be seen. Even when you’d followed him out of your hometown and demanded to accompany him a lick of ability, magical or not, to warrant your accompaniment, he hadn’t batted an eye. He had merely squinted thoughtfully at you while Seokjin and Hoseok insisted that you would merely be deadweight, before turning around and announcing that if you couldn’t keep up, you’d be left behind. 

He’s doing his best to leave you behind now; you’re struggling to keep up with his rapid pace. It’s so speedy that you feel a twinge in your freshly-healed ankle. With a wince, you stumble a few steps, and the ground comes rapidly rising up to meet your face. Before it can make contact, however, a stabilising hand encircles your elbow and you’re yanked upright. 

Yoongi stares at you, a delicate but angry flush creeping across the high points of his cheek bones and down his neck. 

“Thanks.” You offer sheepishly, before gingerly setting your weight upon your foot once more. The healers had warned you that the fractures were severe enough that even with the extensive healing you’d likely still be a bit tender for the next few days. 

“Does it hurt?” He demands, and you wince. You straighten and shake your head. 

“It’s just a bit weaker than normal.” You rush to assure him. These are the first words he’s said to you since you woke up in the clinic of the village you’d been staying in. Since then, he’s sort of just stormed around in a furious silence. 

The incident that had set him off had been an attack on said village. Of late, the sporadic surges of nightmarish beasts that left few survivors and decimated village populations were becoming more frequent, and this particular village was no exception. This village was lucky in that it had a protector; Yoongi is gifted with special abilities and highly trained in combat. You have no idea where he got the abilities from and why he is so skilled, but it saved your life when he first came to your village, and it didn’t take him long to begin saving lives in this village. 

But Yoongi is only human (you assume), and the beasts were numerous and powerful. People can slip under the radar in times of chaos and he hadn’t noticed the small child in the path of danger. 

You had, though. You had seen the oncoming danger but unlike Yoongi, you are not trained in combat. You aren’t gifted with special abilities. You’re just an orphan who witnessed what he could do. You’re nothing special. 

But you couldn’t just leave the child to die. 

According to the healers that Yoongi had carried your broken, bloody body to, you had gotten off easy. A broken ankle, a shredded arm and deep lacerations across your body. The healers had been skilled and Yoongi had supplied them with some of his own magic to give them the ability to heal your wounds- within just twelve hours the only remnants of your scuffle with the monster was a slightly weakened ankle and some ugly scars from some of the deeper wounds that even the healing magic couldn’t overcome. 

Despite his foul mood, Yoongi’s hands are gentle as he guides you to sit on a nearby rock. He crouches before you and reaches for your ankle- his hands are warm as his thumb slides against the ball of your ankle. He’s so careful as he rotates your ankle upwards, testing the range of motion. Even in his anger, he treats you like you’re made of glass. 

 He hadn’t treated you like this when you first started out. He’d just kind of begrudgingly tolerated all your quirks, watched as you bulldozed your way into his little travelling party. But then, as time went on, he’d become more tentative. More careful. He’d tell you to hide when an attack came on the village so you didn’t get in the way. You’d meet a new person and his arm would come up in front of you, like he’s shielding you from a threat. It’s almost subconscious. But it’s annoying. 

“It’s fine.” You say, tugging your ankle away from his grasp as sitting straighter on the rock. You feel like a haughty child when he raises weary eyes to glare at you. 

“It was shattered yesterday.” He reminds you. “If we’d been in any other village, you’d probably be out of commission for months. And I would’ve left you behind because we have to save-“

He cuts off abruptly but you can fill in the blanks of what he’d say. 

An ugly thought overcomes you; what if I were her? It’s poisonous and burns in your chest. Jealousy is an ugly emotion but you’ve been familiar with it a long time. Ever since Yoongi and his crew arrived at your village in search of the long-awaited “chosen one”. It’s probably a dream every orphan harbours; that they are special and unique and wanted, and the murmurs that followed Yoongi’s arrival had probably triggered a similar feeling of longing across the many orphans that take up residence in your village. 

Alas, that chosen one is not you; you remember your parents very clearly. Warm, kind, loving. They succumbed to the plague that had left the orphanage you grew up in overflowing. In such a full and overwhelmed establishment, it is easy to sneak in an extra child. And that’s what Jiyeon had been. Always on the outskirts, a little special and unique. She could never quite fit in with the other kids and for some reason you’d always resented that. Not only that; the way she never even seemed to try. She possessed some unique spark, some unfathomable dignity. Alone, dirty-cheeked, unwanted even in an orphanage, and yet there was always something special in her. And it never left her even as the two of you grew up and took your leave from the orphanage.

It hadn’t taken Yoongi long to find her- apparently Seokjin had some sort of specialised divination powers and he’d known who she was the instant he’d laid eyes upon her. Agnes, the local breadmaker, had taken her on as an apprentice and you’d even been in the store when they entered, seeking her out. There’d been something mysterious and terribly exciting about them- it had felt like the opening scenes of those adventure novels Jungkook would read out to the other kids in the orphanage. 

And you’d witnessed the disaster that had followed- the attack on the village, your home, by those merciless monsters, the death of people you’d known, and Jiyeon’s ensuing kidnap. Someone apparently didn’t want Jiyeon taking up the mantle of her destiny.

You’re not sure why you insisted you come along on the journey to save her- you never liked Jiyeon. You didn’t know Yoongi or Seokjin or Hoseok. And your closest friend was adamant that he’d stay behind to assist in the rebuilding effort of your village. 

Maybe it was something ugly; a desire for it to have been you instead. The one with special, hidden powers and an endless exciting adventure before you. As Yoongi looks up at you, you could believe that maybe that was your motivation. Maybe you wanted to be the one he was looking for.

“I would have caught up.” You finally say, instead of sharing any of those ugly thoughts. “If you’d left me, I’d have hunted you down and followed.” 

Yoongi gets abruptly to his feet, and you nearly tumble off the rock in surprise. 

“You’re a fool!” He cries. Your eyes widen, but he’s lost to a tirade. Alabaster skin has flushed a furious crimson and the dark points of his eyes have hardened- they glint at you like unyielding steel. “Don’t you understand what we’re doing here? We have to rescue the chosen one or the world as we know it is over. We’re on a time limit! This isn’t some fun whacky adventure with friends- peoples’ lives are at stake! And you’re just throwing yourself around like a thoughtless child!”

You stiffen defensively. 

“I’m not being thoughtless-“ you protest, anger heating your words as you spit them out, but Yoongi cuts you off.

“You are! What powers do you have? What abilities? None! I allowed you to come because I didn’t think you’d get in our way so much!” He snarls at you. You throw yourself to your feet, your eyes blazing and your heart thundering furiously in your heart. “Instead you’re throwing yourself into fights you know you can’t handle! You should have left the kid to me!”

“So I was supposed to just sit and stay where you’d left me? Like a dog?” You cry. “When people are dying around me? When a child was about to lose his life?”

“You were supposed to not get hurt!” Is what Yoongi shouts. 

And then he goes abruptly silent, his mouth closing so violently that you hear his teeth click together. He cups a hand over his mouth and turns abruptly away, shoulders hunched. 

The change in mood is so sudden that you feel like you have whiplash; you almost lose your balance with the about-face. Yoongi keeps his back to you for a long moment, and there’s something hurt about the way he curls himself away from you. Finally, he takes a long, shaky inhale and when he finally turns back to you, his eyes are glazed with emotions you can’t understand. It’s not fair that he gets to stare at you like that, that he gets to make you feel two feet tall. 

“Why did you come?” He finally asks, levelling you with a wary look. 

The air feels heavy. You and Yoongi have had a good relationship from the beginning- he’s a little protective and a little bit gruff, but on the whole he’d looked out for you and if anything, you felt closer to him than you did to Seokjin or Hoseok. So this is likely the first time the two of you have clashed like this. 

It’s probably the question he should have asked when you first demanded you accompany him. He should have questioned your motives. He’d had just enough interaction with Jiyeon to work out that she was a bit of an outcast before she’d been kidnapped; he should have known that she’s not your friend. Maybe that’s why you’re so fond of Yoongi; because he hadn’t asked any of those things. He’d looked at the plucky orphan and given you a chance. 

You’ve questioned your own motives many times; why are you on this journey? Why didn’t you stay in your rightful place with Jungkook back at the village? Why did you insist you help rescue Jiyeon? There are motives you can’t shake; that it was for glory. Recognition. So that you could play at being hero. So that you could catch the attention of the mysterious, handsome stranger who is currently eyeing you like you’re an unfamiliar but dangerous beast. 

But you want to believe the motive in the depths of your heart is true; that are your core, you are good. 

She’d met your eyes, the moment before those beasts grabbed her. She’d stared straight at you and begged you for help.

“Because people need help.” You finally say. You gaze straight at Yoongi, willing him to understand. Willing him to believe. Willing him to see the good in you that you want to believe is there. 

Yoongi offers you a searching gaze; deep, dark eyes seem to pierce through to your very soul. He’s always had sharp eyes- he picks things up faster than anyone you’ve ever met and he notices things that no one else would even think to look for. It’s terrifying and exhilarating to have all the focus directed completely on you, even if it is only for a heartbeat. Like he’s disassembling you, piece by piece. 

And then he turns away, shoulders stiff and posture ready like a well-trained soldier, and he begins to march off. 

“You get two days of recovery. And then we start your training.” He glances over his shoulder at you. “If you’re to accompany the chosen one on her journey, then you must be able to defend yourself. Otherwise, if you continue to burden us like this, I shall chain you to your home at the village personally.”

And you can’t read his expression for the life of you, but there’s just something fond about the way the light glints off his steely eyes. 

++

“Can’t I train her?” Seokjin complains, chewing through a mouthful of dried meat. He looks you up and down like he’s seizing up your weakness and you stick your tongue out him childishly. “I think she needs some work on her defensive skills; perhaps I can come at her with a stick and she can try and fend me off.”

“That just sounds like you want revenge for the mouse she put in your bedding this morning.” Hoseok offers helpfully. 

Yoongi chews through his rations slowly and thoughtfully before levelling a glare a Seokjin. 

“You can train her as soon as you best me in a fight. If you’d like, we can test that out right now and I can give (Y/N) a day off-“ 

“That’s fine.” Seokjin hastily cuts him off. “You know what, actually I think I need to do some meditation this morning, make sure they haven’t shifted Jiyeon’s location and that we’re still heading in the right direction.” He scurries off, not sparing a look behind him and you resist the urge to snort in laughter. Perhaps the mouse had been unnecessary, but some sort of revenge had been required after all Seokjin’s recent comments on the amount of time Yoongi had been taking to train you. 

It had been months now, since Yoongi had decided you needed training; you were still a beginner by all means but Yoongi is a good teacher and with each day that passes you grow more adept. It leaves you a little sad; had he been able to mentor Jiyeon and cultivate her special abilities like he intended, perhaps the world would already be saved and the growing evil sealed permanently. 

“You never did say why you decided to start learning to fight, (Y/N),” Hobi comments conversationally; though he is just as much a coward as Seokjin, he does have some sort of immunity to Yoongi’s withering glare. This leaves him undeterred by Yoongi’s subtle hints that he is unwelcome at your training sessions, for the most part. 

“If she’s coming along on a dangerous journey, she needs to learn to defend herself.” Yoongi cuts in. He finishes the last of his meal, and gets to his feet. He stretches languorously, like a  cat, peering at you through squinted eyes. “I’ll give you an hour and then we’ll get started. We’ll make camp here for tonight and cross the river in the morning.” 

He wanders off, leaving you with Hobi. Hobi watches him go with mild curiosity. 

“What happened between you two when we got separated?” Hobi wonders aloud. He tilts his head and stares at you. “Something just... seems different with you two.” 

You pause to consider; true to his word, Yoongi had given you another couple of days to recover, and then he’d started his training. The two of you would spend the day hiking and in the evenings when you’d made camp for the night, he’d teach you the basics of combat. But despite his rigorous training, there was no denying that Yoongi treated you differently after that day. Not hugely different- his protectiveness hadn’t changed, and he wasn’t any less gruff than usual. He just seemed... a little warmer. Kinder, even. Except when he was training you and then he’d turn into a demon spawned from the depths of hell. 

“Nothing we haven’t already told you; a village got attacked, I got injured, and Yoongi decided I should be trained in combat to stop it happening again.” You recall. Hoseok shakes his head in absolute bafflement. 

“See, those all sounds like standard things for Yoongi, but then he also doesn’t seem like Yoongi. He’s so... different with you.l Hoseok admits. “I’ve known him for years now, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he...” he trails away, before looking at you curiously. “Ah.” He makes a little noise of understanding. 

You lean forward eagerly. 

“What?” You ask. Hoseok holds a thumb and forefinger to his chin thoughtfully. 

“Nothing. I just want to try something. Hold still.” And that’s all the warning you get before Hoseok dives at you. Your eyes widen as you lurch back, but you are caught off guard and so Hoseok is able to pin you easily. 

“Hobi!” You cry in protest, but he just grins and leans in close. You can’t help but notice how compromising the position you are in is, pinned beneath Hobi, and when he drops down low enough for his mouth to tickle your ear, you can only imagine what the pair of you look like to a third party. 

“Yoongi’s the jealous type, by the way.” Is what he whispers, and that’s all he manages to tell you before a very loud throat clear interrupts him. 

Hobi leans back, settling on his heals but not bothering to get off you. Yoongi stares down at him, unimpressed. His lips are pressed firmly together, but otherwise his expression is unreadable.

“Ah, Yoongs,” Hoseok says cheerfully. “I was just thinking I’d test (Y/N)’s reflexes. See how your training is going for myself.” 

“Hoseok.” Yoongi says cooly. He smiles but it has no warmth in it. “Surely you’ve seen me fight enough; are you doubting my ability to train her?” 

He offers a hand out to Hoseok, who accept it cheerfully. Freed from Hoseok’s grasp, you sit up, brushing dirt off your tunic and then glaring at Hoseok. 

“Never.” Hoseok says warmly. He’s entirely too cheerful and smug and you don’t know why.

“What the hell, Hobi-“ you snap, but Yoongi cuts you off. 

“I changed my mind, (Y/N),” he says abruptly. He pins you with shimmering dark eyes. “We’ll start our training now; Hoseok has just helpfully pointed out some shortcomings.”

“You’re welcome.” Hoseok offers, before taking his leave to find Jin.

He’s gentle as he helps you to your feet. 

Everything about him is almost overly careful, as he leads you away from the camp site to a small clearing. There’s a tension to his figure that you don’t quite understand- it reminds you of the fight you’d had, where he’d turned away from you, overcome with emotion. 

Yoongi takes a long, deep breath. 

“Are you ok?” He finally asks, when the tension has bled from his posture. You nod cautiously, and Yoongi nods awkwardly to himself, before sighing heavily. He shoves a distressed hand through his hair, and the dishevelled look makes him look younger, somehow. Yoongi hasn’t been very forthcoming with personal details about himself, particularly his age, but normally he looks just a bit older than you. But the look he gives you now is almost boyish, like a confused child lost in the woods. 

“Hoseok’s always been nosey.” He comments. “He likes to do unhelpful things because he thinks he’s helping me.” The almost frazzled way he says the words is so unlike the composed man you know; you feel like you have whiplash and you don’t even know the reason behind his sudden and unexpected fluster. 

“You mean pinning me?” You wonder. Yoongi nods, agitated, before stepping close to you. 

“What did he say to you?” He asks. “When he was... he was... I saw him say something. What’d he say?” 

You pause to recall the cryptic words- that Yoongi is the jealous type. It’s certainly an interesting little tidbit to know; a small part of you wonders if that jealousy would ever be directed at you, but you dismiss it just as quickly. But for the life of you, you can’t think why Hobi might have brought it up in such a context, or why he even thought it appropriate to pull the stunt in the first place. 

“That you’re the jealous type.” You share, wondering if Yoongi will offer any further clarity or insight into the situation or if he will keep his thoughts to himself like he often prefers to do. 

Something sparks in Yoongi’s eyes, and this, at least, is an easy emotion to interpret; irritation. 

“Let’s just get started.” He grumbles. He guides you through your regular warm up. You’re thankful you’d eaten earlier than the others for you’re sure you’d have a nasty cramp if you hadn’t. Yoongi is short and clipped in his delivery and it’s clear the hounding from his peers earlier has left him in a foul mood. 

Finally, after a series of difficult drills that he’s been practicing with you, he allows you a brief reprieve. 

“You’ve come a long way.” He observes, while you take a long drink from a waterskin. When you stare at him questioningly in response, he settles down next to you and offers something close to a smile. It’s a little terser and a little awkward, but there’s a warmth to his eyes that you’ve steadily become acquainted with despite the rarity of its appearances. “Give it another few months and you’ll be able to keep up with even Jin.” 

“I probably won’t.” You remind him. “Jiyeon’s being held at the next town- you’ll probably be too preoccupied training her to have these sessions with me.” 

Yoongi stiffens, just slightly, but you’ve become accustomed with the way he expresses himself throughout the journey and you know the statement throws him. 

“I can manage two pupils. It might even be helpful for her to spar with someone closer to her skill level.” He finally says. You nod, getting up and stretching, bouncing from heel to heel as an indicator that you’re ready to go. 

“I suppose it might.” You offer, but now your mind is preoccupied. In the next few days, the four of you will enter into the territory where Jin can sense Jiyeon is being held, and they will begin her rescue mission. Following that, Yoongi had planned to withdraw to his hometown where he can safely train her in preparation. From there, the campaign begins; they must raise up an army mighty enough to take on the Empire and remove whatever curse upon the land the Shadow Emperor has wrought. It’s a long, arduous path ahead of them, one you definitely hadn’t thought through. But with your meagre, beginner fighting skills, surely you shall be more hindrance than help, as pointed out by Yoongi all those months ago.  

Yoongi picks up on your distraction when he’s able to pin you in a fairly simple maneouvre. He plants a forearm against the base of your throat and pins your legs beneath the weight of his body. His body is warm against yours and the force of the blow that sent you sprawling has you breathless. You bring up your hands, trying to dislodge his arm, but he’s stronger and surer than you and it doesn’t budge.

“Distraction can cost you your life.” He comments, and his voice is a low rumble. His breaths come deep and heavy- warm puffs of air tickle your skin and his torso heaves against yours. 

“Sorry.” You mutter. The pressure against you eases as Yoongi sits back but he doesn’t shift his weight off you. 

“I was distracted too.” He admits. He rolls off you and straightens, dusting off his pants before extending a hand to you. “Let’s leave it here and pick up tomorrow. It might even be our last training session without Jiyeon so I expect you to work hard.” 

You take his hand and the mention of her name has something dark and ugly churning in your stomach. This whole situation has your heart sitting cold in your chest like unyielding stone. You had confessed to Yoongi that you had come along on this journey because someone needed help- what about after? What role did you have to play in all this? Yoongi had just assumed you would continue to accompany them, but is that really what you should do?

“I’m the jealous type too.” The words come out of you softly, unbidden- you almost don’t realise you’ve said them until you see the way Yoongi stiffens. 

“What?” He asks, turning back to face you. His expression is about as readable as a blank page- you’re sure the Emperor’s fortress would be easier to breach. 

You swallow deeply and steel yourself. You’ve already said the words- it’s time you faced these pesky feelings before you make a decision you regret. 

“I’m the jealous type too.” You confess, a little louder. “I don’t want to be your second pupil. I don’t want to be someone along just so Jiyeon’s less lonely and has someone to spar with. I like training with you. I want to keep training with just you. And the thought of sharing this time with her... it makes me feel jealous.” 

Yoongi is silent, staring at you in confusion. It takes him a few baffled blinks before he manages an answer. 

“We don’t have enough time for two separate sessions.” Is what he offers, the words slow and almost slurred in confusion. “And Jiyeon’s training takes priority.” 

It’s a slap in the face, even if Yoongi doesn’t mean it in the way you’re thinking. He doesn’t seem to understand, but you want him to. You want him to comfort you and take away the ugly feelings storming inside you. 

“I’m not talking about training.” You finally say. “I’m talking about us. You and me.” 

Yoongi looks like you’ve just punched him in the stomach- the look of absolute bewilderment on his normally calm face would be funny if your heart didn’t feel like it was about to plummet straight through your body into the ground below you. 

“I have feelings for you.” You blurt. “And I’m scared. Because Jiyeon’s the chosen one. She has to be your priority. The world needs that. But if she’s the priority... if she’s the one that needs to be trained and cared for and raised.... where does that leave me? Less useful than a packing mule.”

Yoongi’s expression is stony, but you can see the emotion shining in his eyes. His normally composed exterior is completely shattered, and for just a brief second you catch a glimpse of fragile, vulnerable longing. 

And then his expression steels and it’s like a door slamming shut. 

“I don’t have time for feelings.” Is what he says. He’s brusque and his words are firm and if you hadn’t caught that glimpse of emotion, it would almost seem cruel the way he delivers them. “And if this is what you are spending your time worrying about, then I think it best you return to your village.” 

And then he leaves you, alone in the clearing to clean up the mess you’ve made of your own heart. 

++

Despite his rough dismissal, you do not go home. You’ve come too far to not at least see Jiyeon safe and rescued. What comes after is something you can worry about when it actually happens. 

Seokjin and Hoseok can tell something happened, but they are awkward and unsure about how to proceed since both you and Yoongi refuse to speak of it. Instead, the two of you arrive at some sort of wordless truce; he won’t send you home and you won’t bring up your feelings again.

The four of you arrive at the town where Jin can sense Jiyeon’s presence. It’s a fairly unremarkable town, just small enough that it’s hard to enter without people noticing your presence but just large enough that they probably can’t guess at your motives. It takes a few days of reconnaissance to discover where Jiyeon may be; this town happens to house a small, undercover faction of the emperor’s top mages, and a days’ hike out of the village holds a secret dungeon. 

The decision is made to leave you behind, and though normally you’d insist you accompany them, a piercing glare from Yoongi has you meekly agreeing to stay overnight in the in . Your instructions are simple; if the four of them do not return by 6am the next morning, you are to cross the country and head to the town of Sabre, Yoongi’s hometown. From there, you should find the aid necessary to rescue the chosen one, and from there it will be up to Yoongi’s friends and family to replace Yoongi’s role as mentor and teacher to the chosen one. 

You’re seeing the them off under the cover of night when Yoongi finally acknowledges you.

You’re about to turn back to the inn and retire to the room that you’d hired out when he calls your name. You turn back in surprise; Jin and Hoseok watch in confusion as Yoongi walks towards you. He shoves a hand through his hair in distress before coming to a halt before you. 

His expression is oddly soft as he casts his gaze over you. 

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs. It’s soft enough that Jin and Hoseok can’t hear,  but you hear the words as loud as day. “I’ll... I’ll see you in the morning.”

Despite everything, despite the ache in your chest, despite the overwhelming worry and concern, despite the fear, you smile at him. He looks surprised for a moment before you notice the slightest curl form at the edge of his mouth in a weak smile. 

“I’ll see you in the morning.” You promise. 

You do attempt to sleep that night; after all the plan is to leave straight away and flee to Sabre as soon as Jiyeon is rescued. You have a long an arduous journey ahead of you and you’re the only one who has the luxurious option of sleep. But you only manage fitful bursts, filled with nightmares. Finally, the dawn rolls around, though you do not feel rested in the slightest. 

You rise with a sigh, readying your scant belongings and changing into appropriate travel gear. 

And then, you wait. Waiting is agony- that’s something you learn as you settle beside the window of your small room and watch the sun peek between imposing stone buildings. The sky warms from a dull grey into a blushing pink, and then a bright blue. And all the while, you catch no glimpse of your friends. Six am comes and goes. No one had warned you how deeply terrifying your role would be. Waiting and uncertain. Are they dead? Captured? You do not know- they didn’t grant you the luxury of any information; just left you behind to deal with the mess, under the guise of “safety”.

Stiffly, you rise from your position. You do not dare check the clock. You do not want to know how long past the meet-up time it is though it must be at least a few hours. Your instructions had been to leave strictly as 6am lest people

come looking for you, but that hour has come and gone.

“You’re a liar.” You mutter to yourself as you step out into the crisp morning air. It had only been last night that he’d promised to see you again; so quickly he broke his promise. 

You kick the dirt aimlessly before beginning a quick stride for the edge of town, your head down. “A coward and a liar.” You assert, though your voice is thick with unshed tears. 

You’ve just stepped into the woods that surround the edge of the town when you hear the crunch of boots in dirt and the clink of armour; soldiers are out and about. Perhaps they’re searching for your friends after a successful mission and Jiyeon is safe; perhaps they’re searching for any backup to exterminate and ensure her continued imprisonment. 

You’re searching for a way to conceal yourself when an arm wraps around your bicep and nearly yanks you off your feet. You stumble back into a firm, warm presence, and one hand covers your mouth while an arm snakes around your waist, stifling your cry. 

You don’t hesitate to utilise the momentum of your fall. You swing your elbow around to where you estimate your attacker’s abdomen is. They release a soft “oof” and you utilise the way that their arm goes slack to swing forward in the same moment you bring the heel of your foot slamming down over theirs. 

They grunt and hunch over in pain.

“It’s me!” A familiar voice hisses, releasing you so that you can whirl around and see your attacker.

“Yoongi?” You say, before remembering the approaching guards and lower your voice. “You’re here?!”

“I am.” He comments softly. “Jin sensed you hadn’t left yet and I.... came to get you.” He confesses. 

A clank of armour and the distant sound of voices has the two of you freezing; now is not the time for reunion. There will be time for catch up and explanation later. For now, you are in imminent danger until the soldiers pass you by. 

Yoongi secures a hand tightly around your wrist and guides you through the undergrowth in a low crouch. He moves in the opposite direction of the voices, brushing branches out of the way. 

“There’s a hollow ahead; we can hide there until they pass by and then we’ll make for town. The others will be waiting for us there.” He glances at you over his shoulder. 

You don’t know what passes through his expression, but you feel his grip tighten just a fraction and his pace quickens. 

The hollow he speaks of is a tree- rain has washed away the soil that the tree clung to. In its place, twist, skeletal roots knot and weave to form a dark space just large enough to hide some if they scrunched themselves up very tightly. You pause to raise an eyebrow at Yoongi. He pointedly ignores your scepticism, pressing pointedly on your shoulders until you obediently crawl into the space. He is not far behind- you feel the warmth of his form as he crowds you in. You’re about to comment that you don’t feel particularly hidden when you feel the brush of his magic; the shadows around the roots thicken. It’s a spell you’ve seen before- people’s eyes seem to just slide over the places that Yoongi’s shadows conceal. 

“So are you going to tell me why you’re still here and not halfway to the next town when we agreed you’d leave three hours ago?” He murmurs from where he is crouched over you. Crushed up against him like this, he is a large, foreboding presence. Were it not for the glint of warmth to his eyes, the relief at seeing you safe, you could almost be afraid of this terrifying man. If he is, indeed, a human at all. 

You could do a lot of things in that moment- pour out the anxiety and worry and misery and anger you feel and watch him boil in it; instead you release the fragile shard of vulnerability you had been trying to keep a tight hold on. 

“I couldn’t accept you’d died.” You confess. 

Yoongi’s eyes soften, and he drops his head so that it rests against your shoulder. His hair tickles the side of your neck and you feel the heavy weight of his breath as he exhales slowly. 

“I’m sorry.” He confesses. You shake your head, attempting to shift back. Some distance would be helpful to the loud racket your heart is currently making. 

“It was out of your control.” You remind him. “It’s hard to be punctual when you’re fighting against an empire.”

His arms tighten- a hand lifts from the soil and fits into the curve of your waist, anchoring you against him. 

“Not about that.” He confesses. “About.... about what you said earlier. About your feelings- I can’t stop thinking about it. About you. I have so much I must do and I can’t afford distractions and yet...... there is so much I want to be distracted by, (Y/N).”

He feels your surprised inhale, the way your ribs hiccup beneath his palm.  

“I’m supposed to be protecting Jiyeon and yet when Jin told me you were in danger...”

He doesn’t have to finish the story. Here he is, holding you desperately against him like at any moment you may crumble. He left the chosen one vulnerable, unprotected and untrained to save you. The plucky orphan who should have never been apart of this tale in the first place. 

Against your volition, you hand comes up to slide against his cheek. His eyes squeeze shut at the gesture- it reminds you of a cat, the way his eyes squint in contentment. 

“I understand.” You admit. “I.... It’s not your fault.”

Those are the only words you can muster. How else can you articulate the way it has clicked in place? The burden Yoongi bears; the long, scary road ahead of him. He cannot afford to be thinking of the things he cannot have; and he cannot have you, as much as you both want it. 

You know he understands what you meant; that your words have lifted a heavy burden from his heart. He did not want to hurt you; but he cannot drag you in. 

You lean up, tilting your head up just slightly so that you can have a brief taste of the life you could have had; if you were born in a time of peace and prosperity. Perhaps you could have wedded. Had children together. Grow old with your hands linked together, smiling with recollections of a life well-lives. His lips are soft but firm, and the kiss is filled with sadness. 

++

You eventually make the decision to go home. It’s not inmediatelt; you persevere for a while. You accompany them on the arduous journey back to Yoongi’s hometown. You assist with Jiyeon’s training as Yoongi intended. But eventually you come to accept the truth; this isn’t your journey to be on.

Jiyeon, who was suspicious of your presence at first given your history, is the one who protests the most, oddly enough. Perhaps you are the small piece of familiarity in a sea of chaos and fear, to her. And oddly, you are sad to say good-bye. Despite never liking her as a child, as an adult you begin to see it. The heart for others, the unwavering compassion and determination. She has the heart of a hero. 

But that’s why you must return home; a hero needs a home to fight for, after all.

Yoongi’s goodbye to you is subdued. He does not voice his sadness- Jiyeon even goes so far as to scold him to his dismissiveness. But you know; you can see it shining in his eyes. If he lets go, he will break down. And you are leaving to prevent that; your goodbye will be for naught if he lets himself crumble here. 

“It’s not forever.” You reassure your friends. Jin nods, tearfully, while Hoseok rests a comforting hand against his shoulder- normalky he would be the one sobbing the loudest, but he is to chaperone you home and then he will rendez-vous with the others in Yoongi’s hometown. “I’ll see you when the war ends. If any of you die, I’ll be very cross with you.”

That does it; the briefest, weakest smile from Yoongi. 

And so ends this chapter of your adventure.

 Epilogue:

The war lasts five years. Villages are ravaged, lives are lost and empires are brought to their knees. Joyous bells ring throughout your town when the news reaches you; the emperor has fallen. 

For you, you don’t think much of it. The war had left countless children orphaned, and to the best of your ability you take as many in as you can handle. Ever since you and Jungkook took over the orphanage, funds have been tight and there have been endless mouths to feed. So the news of the war ending leaves you surprisingly underwhelmed. The end of the war will not mean food appears from nowhere or make these children un-orphaned. If anything, your job gets harder now; as people lick their wounds and the fallen empire recovers, you will have your hands full with your children. 

You’re informing Jungkook of this opinion quite loudly in the tavern one evening. It’s past curfew for the children and old Bertha had offered to keep an eye on things so the two of you could have a night off. 

You’re surprised when a nearby customer snickers. Casting your gaze, you notice four hooded figures seated around the door. That in itself is not suspicious, for many travellers prefer to keep their identities concealed as they pass through. 

What is suspicious is the brief glimpse you catch of one of the hooded strangers, the slight tilt of a smirk that seems almost familiar. 

Having noticed your attention is drawn, one of the travellers lean forward. 

“Do go on.” A familiar voice sounds. You nearly drop your glass as you blink a few times. Suddenly, your heart is racing. 

“Do you know these people?” Jungkook asks curiously, eyeing the group with mild interest. 

You’re too stunned to reply, so the initial traveller, the one who had snickered answers for you. He tugs his hood off to reveal chestnut hair, a heart shaped mouth, bright glittering eyes. 

“I sure hope she does since we came all this way to find her.” Hoseok cries enthusiastically. 

You distantly hear the sound of a chair sliding across wood and then realise the source is you, leaping from your chair. 

“H-hoseok?” You cry. He grins. 

“The one and only!” He caws. He gets to his feet to engulf you in a monstrous bear hug. 

The other travellers take the opportunity to tug their hoods free; first Jiyeon appears, beaming at you, then Seokjin. 

And then Yoongi. Five years has not aged him, though you always had considered the possibility that he is immortal. 

Hoseok seems to realise he’s lost your attention, for he releases you and begins interrogating Jungkook. 

You’re far too preoccupied with the man before you. 

“Yoongi.” You breathe. 

The smile he offers you is surprisingly light and warm. Like a cat blinking contentedly in the rays of the morning sun. And despite it being nearly half a decade since you last saw him, your heart races just the same. 

“You did say it wasn’t forever.” He offers you simply. 

And as your eyes water and fill with tears, you offer him a weak smile. 

And so begins the next chapter of your adventure.

[candycityy]

Ooh rivetra and 20 or 76 (or both if you want to ;)) for the Drabble prompts pleeeease 🧡🖤

Note: I did both because what can I say, I love a challenge, hehehe. I hope you like it!

References this earlier drabble.

(You can also read this on AO3!)

So here's the thing, right. For all his flaws—and he does have flaws, no matter what the fawning masses think—Levi isn't stupid.

Sure, he's not probably not cut out for the rarefied, upper-crust intelligentsia that Erwin Smith moves in. And sure, certain idiots of the variety of Hanji Zoë might swear on their dying breaths that he's all brawn and no brain, et cetera, but the truth is, he's got enough street smarts and common sense that most people conveniently overlook his awful social skills.

And that means that contrary to popular belief, Levi doesn't totally suck at social events. The Sina elite tend to misread his frosty bluntness and lack of etiquette as a refreshing, man-on-the-street brand of humour. Which, well, whatever works, he supposes.

Unfortunately, as a matter of consequence, that means that even with a hyperactive three-year old at home, Erwin had point-blank refused to let him off for this year's Midwinter Ball. He'd given him leave for the past few since Ava was still far too young to be left alone at home, but judging by the commander's expression, he's just about exhausted his excuses.

"You know the state of our finances, Levi," he'd said, cerulean eyes earnest and entreating. "We need every coin we can get. And, well, you're always quite popular at these balls, being humanity's strongest and all—not accounting for taste, of course—"

"Oi!"

The commander'd smirked, but his expression had faded back to solemnity quickly enough. "We need you there, Levi. I won't make it an order, but consider it...a personal request. Please?"

Levi'd grumbled under his breath. "Whatever. I'll go, I'll go, just stop looking at me like that," he'd barked.

Erwin had smiled. "I knew I could count on you, Levi."

Cut to the present. It's just past six o'clock, the winter sky only now beginning to darken into a somewhat forbidding shade of violet-grey. He's already dressed in his standard black suit, pacing back and forth the small living room, his eyes darting to the clock every few seconds.

Petra, who's in the midst of removing the curlers from her hair, shoots him an irritated look. "Would you calm down," she hisses, "you're driving me crazy. And Ava's going to pick up on it too, you know."

They both glance at their daughter, who's serenely colouring in a picture in crayon at the other end of the room. The three-year-old is Petra in miniature, from her wide eyes right down to her peaches-and-cream complexion. With just one exception: her hair is just a touch darker than her mother's: more cinnamon than honey.

Levi runs a hand through his hair. "Why aren't they here yet?" he says, for the third time that night.

"Because we told them to come at half past," Petra replies, with somewhat less patience than she'd ordinarily have. "Now get over here and help me do up my necklace, would you."

The metal is cold to the touch, but Petra just smiles softly as he clasps the necklace behind her neck with deft fingers. "Remember our first Midwinter Ball?" she reminisces. "That was pretty fun, wasn't it?"

"Fun for you, maybe," Levi says drily. "I was busy dragging Auruo off the dance floor after he puked and blacked out, remember?"

She giggles. "Oh, yeah. I forgot about that part. But still, that was when we danced together for the first time." They fall into a comfortable, nostalgic silence, and finally, he sighs.

"I still don't like leaving her alone," he mutters.

"It's hardly the first time," Petra says gently.

"I know, but it's the first time we'll be so far from her. And for so long, too—a whole night." His eyes turn contemplative. "Maybe I could just ride back, after the ball—if the weather isn't bad—"

"Don't even think about it," she says sharply. "The roads aren't safe this time of year, especially not so late at night, there's too much ice. We'll be back in the morning, Levi. Don't worry so much."

He snorts. "Easier said than done. Why aren't they here yet?" he asks again. This time, Petra ignores him, instead turning back to the mirror and carefully applying lipstick with a practiced hand.

After the final step—dusting her cheeks with rose-tinted powder—she rises to her feet, doing a slow turn in her gown, a sleek, champagne-coloured affair with a fitted bodice and fluted sleeves, cut out of satin and embellished with tiny buttons down the front. Her delicately curled hair falls in soft waves to her collarbone, just brushing the front of her dress.

"What do you think?" she goes. Oblivious to his sullen silence, she juts out a hip and flutters her lashes at him coquettishly, an action which earns her an eye-roll.

"You're going to make everyone stare," he grumbles. She giggles.

"I have to keep your fangirls away, now don't I?" she teases, with a toss of her head. He's about to issue a retort when a knock comes at the door.

"Right on time, as usual," Petra declares. Levi just scowls.

He'd had been reluctant to get them back after the first disastrous incident, but Petra had insisted that they'd done a good job—"after all, Ava was perfectly fine, wasn't she?" As a result, Eren and Jean have become their go-to babysitters ever since. Levi's loath to admit it, but their daughter has warmed up to them. She's already toddling over to the door with a ready beam on her face, as the boys troop in through the door, faces flushed with the cold.

"Eren nii-chan! Jean nii-chan!" she chirps, plump arms outstretched. "Pick me up, pleaaaase?"

Eren breaks into a grin and obliges. His terror of Levi has subsided somewhat, although he still occasionally trips over his feet whenever he walks past, but he openly adores the toddler. Jean's a bit more reserved, but as Ava begins to babble cheerfully, his expression noticeably softens—even though he claims he's not a fan of babies, Levi suspects that he's secretly just as enamoured with Ava as his comrade is.

Of course, that only makes sense, considering that as far as Levi is concerned, Ava Ackerman is the cutest fucking baby on the planet.

Outside the door, there's the distant sound of approaching hooves pounding against cobblestone. Sensing a farewell, Petra sighs and leans over to give Ava one last hug, as Levi presses a gentle kiss to his daughter's cheek.

"We'll better be off," she says reluctantly. "Boys, thank you so much for taking care of Ava tonight. If anything goes wrong, you know what to do."

All four adults exchange grim, silent glances; they know what's coming next. Levi picks up his coat and shrugs it on. Petra wraps a scarf around her neck.

And with a sigh, they push the door open, and wait.

Three, two—

"Nooooo!"

Ava lets out a ear-splitting shriek, one that seems far too loud to come from such a small baby. Her eyes well up with anxious tears as she comes to the awful realisation that her parents are leaving without her, and she struggles desperately towards them, her face screwed-up and flushed with fury, as Eren doggedly tries to keep her from wriggling out of his arms. Beside him, Jean attempts in vain to ply her with sweets and toys, but she won't be soothed or distracted.

"No, no, no!" Ava wails. Her tiny fists pummel Eren's shoulder, who, to his credit, doesn't flinch, just hefts her up resignedly. "No go, no go! Stay!"

Petra sends him a warning look. And even as every atom of his body rebels against the thought of it...

Levi steps over the threshold, and into the wintry night air.

==

"Levi," Petra says patiently, "you're fidgeting."

She places a hand on his thigh, which, apparently, he'd been subconsciously jiggling all this while. Calming Ava down had taken about ten whole minutes, but Eren and Jean had finally managed to distract her with a game of hide-and-seek—her new favourite—and they'd quietly snuck onto the carriage before she could realise their trick.

They're barely more than a mile from home, but already being away from Ava feels like a piercing, physical pain in the front of his skull, a palpable anxiety that refuses to fade. Even Petra's presence, usually so comforting, doesn't soothe him in the slightest.

"Sorry," he mutters. "It's just—it's fucking terrifying, being a parent." His wife touches his cheek in silent commiseration, and they both sit in silence.

It's as perfect a night as it could ever be, in all honesty. The moon is full and bright, its silvery light beaming helpfully onto their path. The road is almost deserted this evening—Levi supposes most people would rather be safely tucked in the warmth of their homes, celebrating the holiday season with their own families instead of with dozens of expensively-attired strangers.

Fuck it all. Sensing his blood pressure rising, he takes a deep breath. The air is cool and dry and calming. Turning to stare out at the window, he listens to the rhythmic clickity-clack of the horses' hooves, their huffed pants of exertion, the metallic whine of the wheels—

Levi frowns. "What was that?"

"What was what?" Petra starts to ask, and then stills—this time, she'd heard it too. That high-pitched, bell-like sound, that sounds disturbingly like...

She swallows. "D-did you just make that noise?"

He stares at her drily. "I don't think my vocal chords could physically manage that."

"You don't think..." Her jaw drops, and she almost leaps towards the driver's seat in her urgency, startling the poor old man. "Excuse me! Stop the carriage, please!"

The horses have barely come to a halt when Levi disembarks from the carriage in one swift, fluid movement. He strides towards the back of the carriage, where, he knows, there's a small compartment built in, just large enough for their overnight bags and gear.

As well as—perhaps—a three-year-old toddler, if she were crouching quite close to the floor. Like, for instance, in a game of hide-and-seek.

His expression is grim as he tugs open the lid of the compartment. Behind him, Petra looks frozen, her face a mixture of trepidation and incredulity and just the tiniest hint of amusement.

The lid comes loose. "Daddy!" their irrepressible daughter exclaims, springing out of her crouching position. She giggles again, that familiar high-pitched, bell-like sound almost unnaturally loud in the silence of the night. "Mama! Ava came along!"

For a second, both parents are struck speechless as they stare at their cheerful stowaway in wordless horror.

Finally, Petra opens her mouth to speak.

"You don't say," she deadpans.

==

By the time they reach Sina, the ball has already started.

Of course, considering how they had to turn back around (much to the chagrin of the carriage-driver), tuck Ava very firmly into bed (it goes easier this time, considering how exhausted she is from the very dramatic game of hide-and-seek), reassure a terrified Eren and Jean that they're not mad (although Levi still isn't sure, to be honest), and allow them to resume sentry duty before leaving, he figures they actually made pretty good time.

Other than the very pointed, self-righteous look the doorman shoots them as they stumble into the hall, they manage to blend into the crowd with relative ease. They quickly touch base with the rest of the squad and collect two well-deserved flutes of wine before searching for Erwin, if only to reassure him that they did, in fact, come.

The commander is, of course, easy enough to spot, what with his stature and all. And although he initially looks mildly disapproving, his expression quickly turns wry once he hears the tale.

"That's quite a story," he says, nodding politely at a passing noblewoman, who blushes alluringly and bats her eyes. "Although, I suppose I should be glad you turned up at all, considering."

Petra giggles. "Touché. Although, maybe next year, we can bring her along. Wouldn't that be adorable?"

"Over my dead body," Levi says flatly. "But maybe next year, you'll let me stay home, Erwin."

The blonde man sighs and casts his eyes skyward. Around them, the party thrums cheerfully, soldiers mingling with nobles, careful words and casual touches exchanged over good dance and better drink. But although the atmosphere is thick with holiday cheer and inebriation, the commander seems wearily immune. "Maybe next year, I'll finally resign."

Levi snorts and lifts his wine-glass. "I'll toast to that."

Drabble challenge!