#or Golden Chair as it's labelled on my laptop

[maxsix]

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Comet Donati [Chapter 5: I Should Have Kissed You]

Series Summary: Sex, drugs, boy bands. You are a kinda-therapist recruited (via nepotism) to help Comet Donati through a recent crisis. Things are casual with Aegon, very not-casual with Aemond. Loosely inspired by One Direction.

Chapter Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+), drugs, alcohol, smoking, mental health struggles, bodily injury, sloths, public indecency, another important conversation on a balcony, angst!

Selected Chapter Quote: “I’m sorry about what happened tonight.”

Word count: 8k (+1 meme).

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: ​@doingfondue​ @catalina-howard​ @randomdragonfires​ @myspotofcraziness​ @arcielee​ @fan-goddess​ @talesofoldandnew​ @marvelescvpe​ @tinykryptonitewerewolf​ @mariahossain​ @chainsawsangel​ @darkenchantress​ @not-a-glad-gladiator​ @gemini-mama​ @trifoliumviridi​ @herfantasyworldd​ @babyblue711​ @namelesslosers​ @thelittleswanao3​ @daenysx​ @moonlightfoxx​ @libroparaiso​ @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics​ @mizfortuna​ @florent1s​ @heimtathurs​ @bhanclegane​ @poohxlove​ @narwhal-swimmingintheocean​ @heavenly1927​ @mariahossain​ @echos-muses​ @padfooteyes​ @minttea07​ @queenofshinigamis​ @juliavilu1​ @amiraisgoingthruit​ @lauraneedstochill​ @wintrr13​ @r0segard3n​ ​

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There’s turbulence over the Indian Ocean as the jet staggers towards Singapore, pitching and reeling, dark clouds churning beyond the windows like the malevolent brew of a caldron. Each time the plane plummets fifty or a hundred feet, you clutch reflexively at your armrests and try not to think of Cast Away. No one else seems bothered by it; that’s what years spent on international flights will do to people, you suppose. It dulls their instincts, tames them, sands down vestiges of primeval survivalism like a file taken to canine teeth. Cregan is ostensibly napping beneath his sunglasses, Daeron is propelling Mario through a maze of toxic fumes, Luke is watching The Crown on his laptop with Rhaena and Baela, Jace is applying shimmering, gelatinous, golden under-eye masks with great care, Criston is answering emails, Aegon is being forced by the label to click through online substance abuse education modules and sighs dramatically and often. And Aemond…

The jet loses a dozen meters of altitude and your stomach drops. You stifle a yelp with one hand as tears—unwanted and unforeseen—prickle into your eyes. You peek across the aisle to see Aemond watching you with his gaze of two blues: one like a clear cool river, the other an otherworldly maelstrom like the atmosphere on Neptune, beautiful yet barren. His expression is intense and searching, his brow low. You try to ignore him. You try to collect yourself.

“Honeybunch?” Shelby croons. Yes, she calls him honeybunch, freaking honeybunch, and occasionally Honey Bunches of Oats. It’s almost as nauseating as the turbulence. He turns to her after the briefest of hesitations. Shelby is crouched by a table, her project for the past hour: artfully arranged red roses, glass bowls of fruit that she spritzes with a spray bottle of water—like you’d use to discipline a cat—to keep it glistening, and bubbling flutes of pink champagne. When the careening of the jet sends anything sliding precariously towards the edge of the table, she casually pushes it back into place. Shelby is no stranger to flying either. She is an angel, born with wings.

“Yeah?” Aemond says distractedly.

“Can you come over here for a sec?”

The jet shutters; ripples quake through your ginger ale. You swallow down a pathetic mewing like a wounded animal’s, swiping a tear from your cheek. You nestle against the window so no one will notice. “Sure,” Aemond tells Shelby, casting you another glance as he stands. He goes to her—gripping the backs of chairs to keep his balance—and, after looking back at you one last time, swipes one gleaming strawberry from a bowl.

“Don’t!” Shelby whines, knowing that now she’ll have to rearrange things.

If Aemond heard her, he gives no indication. He chucks the strawberry as hard as he can at Aegon; it hits the side of his head with a wet thump. Tiny black seeds pop free. Juice like blood stains his blond hair.

Aegon rips out his earbuds and spins around in his seat. “Okay, what the fuck?”

“Whoops,” Aemond says dully.

“How does someone do that by accident?! How does that even happen?!” Rubbing his head with one hand, Aegon stretches and peers around the jet. His eyes—not a blue like clear water, but a deep murky cobalt, a difference you cannot help but notice again and again like the stinging of a papercut—catch on you. “Aww, Stargirl, what’s up?” He drags himself over, knocked to his knees once by the swerving of the jet, and plops down into the chair beside you. “You okay? Don’t worry. I’m a good swimmer. I’d drag you to shore.”

You laugh, pressing a napkin to your eyes. It comes away shriveled and damp. “I’m sorry. We get tornadoes back home sometimes, I can’t stop picturing wreckage.”

“You should have seen this flight we took last year over the Pacific. The jet was practically sideways. Jace threw up like ten times.”

“Three times,” Jace says, peeling off his under-eye masks like little gold jellyfish with his feet kicked up on an ottoman.

“Ten times?” Aegon replies innocently. “Ten, you said?”

“Three, you idiot.”

“Ten?”

“Three.”

“Ten!” Aegon confirms merrily.

Jace holds up an under-eye mask and jiggles it in the air, soft and wiggling and shapeless. “Hey guys! This is what Aegon looks like naked.”

“I don’t want him getting any of the money from my donut merch!” Aegon shouts. “Criston? You hear that? Criston? Hey Criston? Criston?!”

“Do your modules,” Criston replies without looking away from his emails.

“Fine,” Aegon huffs. The jet is gliding over the ocean more smoothly now. Still, he says to you after smacking a single sloppy kiss against your temple: “Follow me. You can help.”

You accompany Aegon back to his seat and laptop, a neon green MacBook Air. Shelby is snapping photos to post on Instagram, recording clips for TikTok: the meticulously arranged table, her long fingernails decorated with palm trees and Merlions and the flag of Singapore, selfies of her and Aemond…always taken to show his good side, of course. Your guts twist with hostility, mistrust, envy, wrath.

As you pass Jace, he holds out his discarded under-eye masks. “Wanna touch?” Jace invites you, leering. You peel one gluey under-eye mask from his open palm and examine it. As you massage the pool of viscous gold, Jace ogles, dangerously close to drooling.

“So soft,” you admire. “So smooth. Not a single wrinkle.” Then you fling it back at Jace. The adhesive side sticks to his forehead. “Just like your brain.”

Everyone howls, even Cregan—not asleep after all—and Criston; he tries to choke it down until his face floods red. Aemond is staring at the floor, but he is beaming. Shelby recaptures his attention and begins posing his hand around a glass of champagne, readjusting fingers like a physical therapist stretching and flexing half-healed limbs. She gets to touch him. She gets to speak to him.

“You’re always so mean,” Jace tells you as he pries the under-eye mask off his skin, unfazed, simpering, flirtatious. “You might have to make it up to me one day.”

“Unlikely.”

“We’ll see.”

“We certainly won’t.”

Aegon shows you the quiz that has popped up in his modules. “Okay, Stargirl. Time to prove yourself. Does coke make someone’s pupils bigger or smaller?”

All you can hear is Shelby’s high, sing-songy voice; all you can picture are her exquisite fingernails skimming their way down the ridge of Aemond’s spine. “I honestly can’t recall at the moment. Go snort some and we’ll find out.”

Aegon grins. “Don’t tempt me.”

Fifty minutes later and under blessedly clear skies, the jet touches down at Changi Airport: 88 degrees Fahrenheit, 80% humidity. Aegon groans as he trots down the airstair, slides on his aviator sunglasses, and wipes away sweat—already beading on his pink forehead and wetting the hair at the nape of his neck—with the back of one hand.

“Jesus Christ, I need a Double Chocolaty Chip Frappuccino.”

“Do you really?” Jace jabs, and you don’t have to scold him this time. Baela gets there first, hissing something to him that is brief and fearsome. You’re only half paying attention. Once Comet Donati makes it through security, there may be paparazzi waiting for them inside the airport. Everyone knows this; it’s the same in every city and on every continent. And as Shelby strolls across the tarmac with one arm looped through Aemond’s, you cannot help but see—you cannot help but absorb like nicotine through the capillary beds of a lung—that she reaches out with those beautiful yet claw-like fingernails and taps the front pocket of his button-up shirt, black with white lilies, until he pulls out a pair of sunglasses and shields himself from the pitying eyes of the world with them.

And you think with puncturing clarity like a shard of glass through flesh: I hate her, I hate her, I hate her.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Pan Pacific Orchard Hotel is brand new. You can’t breathe without inhaling fresh paint, glass walls, the bakery, the greenery that climbs steel like a trellis, the roomy emptiness of starting over. You wake up tangled in a nest of white sheets that your body has heated into an inferno. You don’t remember your dream, only that Aemond was there. It was the opening of the door that woke you. Aegon stands in the slanting early-afternoon sunlight, vivid red swim trunks and matching Crocs, his sunglasses knotted in his hair.

You yawn and peer blearily at him. “Aegon? What are you doing?”

“Every day I wake up hoping you’re still here,” he says. And then: “We’re all headed down to the pool. You wanna join?”

You smile; you can smell him in the air, Axe body spray, Tiger Beer, sunscreen that he never seems to apply often enough to stop his skin from burning. You haven’t been with him—not in that way—since that day in Paris. But time never feels quite linear with Aegon. He swings wide and then comes in close again, and when he does it’s like he never left. He’s with you always, and never, and sometimes, and forever. “Yeah. Give me ten minutes.”

“Cool.” He turns and studies himself in the full-length mirror that hangs on your bedroom wall. His eyes wander down to his bare chest and belly. He frowns, pensive, far-away, critical. It is an expression that looks entirely unnatural on him.

“Hey.”

He spins back around, running a hand self-consciously down the front of his torso. “Hm?”

“I think you’re perfect exactly the way you are. I am wildly, helplessly, pathetically attracted to you. I would fight off twenty fangirls with my bare hands for you. I think you’re one of the most ludicrously gorgeous men I’ve ever met in my life. ”

He grins, radiant again. “One of them, huh?” And he winks at you as he clops towards the door in his Crocs. “Maybe it runs in the family.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“So. College applications season will be here in a few months.”

Baela looks at you, started. You’re in a whirlpool with her, Rhaena, Luke, and Aegon, sipping pina coladas and kicking feet idly beneath water misty with bubbles. “Okay?” Baela says. Her swimsuit is an elegant white one-piece that—unintentionally you think, unconsciously, and yet truthfully—closely resembles a ballet leotard.

“Elaborate?” Luke says, then slurps noisily on his pina colada.

Aegon already knows where you’re going. He chuckles into one closed fist; you can see yourself reflected in his sunglasses. In the massive main pool punctuated by an arcing bridge and a miniature island, Cregan is lounging on a float shaped like a pineapple and eating his way through a heaping plate of juicy slivers: papaya, mango, starfruit, banana, lychee, rose apple, dragon fruit. Criston is sitting under an umbrella and reading a New Yorker profile of shipping tycoon Viserys Targaryen—a Greek by birth and a Brit by choice—with narrowed, vexed eyes. Jace and Daeron are attempting to do a TikTok dance for Shelby to post on her account and repeatedly screwing up, laughing hysterically and pushing each other into the pool. She always wears eye-catching patterns, leopard prints and retro geometric shapes and plaids and Swarovski crystals and tassels. Currently, she is dressed in a scarlet bikini and a sheer coverup of tropical flowers. Her blond hair flows down her back and swings like a horse’s tail when she leans in to direct her cast, pointing and waving. You see her like this, not in whole but in pieces: long beachy waves, nimble ankles and wrists, lip gloss, veneers, sugary perfume, tall like Aemond. Shelby has no idea why you’re here. She made a few tentative inquiries—So who introduced you to the band? So how did you and Aegon meet?—before being discouraged by the ensuing stilted silence. Aemond rarely acknowledges you. Presently, he is wading in the pool up to his chest, occasionally talking to Cregan but otherwise content to be left to his own…reverie? Observations? Machinating? Brooding? With his sunglasses on, it’s difficult to tell.

Back in the whirlpool, you ask Baela: “What if you applied to a few ballet programs?”

“What?”

“Just to see what happens. Just to have options.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t do that.” She says this so quickly it’s clear that it’s a reflex: something she does not think about, something she’s trained herself not to.

“Sure you could. You click a few buttons and it’s done.”

“I’d have to send in video clips and stuff.”

“Okay. Rhaena and I will help record you.”

“Absolutely,” Rhaena agrees right away. She drinks her pina colada with large, skittish eyes, watching you like you’re poking a tiger, a viper, and dragon. She’s tried to have this conversation before. She knows how it usually goes.

“I’m really not in shape right now,” Baela protests.

“You still have time to work on that. It’s only July.”

“And who says I want to work on it?” Baela snaps. “Have I ever mentioned ballet school? Have I ever said that I want to go?”

“But you do,” you say simply.

She frowns as she casts her gaze across the pool. Beefy men dressed in black—security guards, some employed by the band, some by Shelby—mill around aimlessly like ants when you lift a rock.

“I think you should apply,” you tell Baela.

“I can’t,” she replies, pained.

“Why not?”

“Because.” She’s flustered, cross. Rhaena and Luke look between the two of you anxiously. Aegon just smiles and gnaws on the hunk of pineapple that came perched on the rim of his pina colada. “Am I supposed to send Rhaena off into the world without me? Nothing against you, Luke, I like you, I trust you, but when you’re on stage or in an interview you can’t watch out for her. What if something happens to Rhaena? Or what if I go back to school and I’m a failure? What if I humiliate myself? What if I’ve lost whatever talent I once had? What if I couldn’t keep up with my classmates? What if I get injured and have to drop out? What if I’m too old, or too out of practice, or what if I don’t even enjoy dancing anymore? What would I do about the band? What would I do about Jace?”

“Those are all valid concerns,” you say. “But they’re also concerns for after you’ve applied to schools. If you get acceptances, that doesn’t mean you have to go. But it does give you options. And options are always good.”

Baela shrugs. She catches handfuls of bubbles in one cupped palm, preoccupied. “It just seems like a waste of time.”

Aegon snickers as he tosses the pineapple rind over his shoulder. One of the security guys snatches it up off the concrete and throws it in a trashcan. “Baela, please babygirl, don’t give up on your dreams for freaking Jace.”

“And who the fuck solicited your life advice, blond Nikki Sixx? If I want to know what Narcan feels like, I’ll ask you.”

Aegon sighs, rubbing one eyebrow. “You are never going to let that go.”

“I bet you’d get in,” Luke tells Baela. “To at least one school. You’re too good not to, even with the time off. Rhaena’s shown me old recital clips. You were fantastic.”

“Were,” Baela mutters. “Past tense. Very distant past tense.”

“If you don’t get in, then you know it’s off the table,” you say. “And you’re in the exact same spot you are now. But if you do get in, you have time to figure out what to do with that information. You have nothing to lose except application fees, and I don’t think those are much of a barrier for you, oh great connoisseur of Gucci and Hermès.”

“I’ll think about it,” Baela replies, and her intent to end the conversation is clear. A few awkward moments creep by like afternoon shadows stretching across pavement. “So, what are we doing for dinner?”

“Something quick, right?” Luke says. “Takeout? We have a meet-and-greet in two hours.”

“Jollibee!” Rhaena exclaims, clapping her hands. “They have coconut pineapple pie!”

“Chicken Up,” Aegon says.

Luke laughs. “What the hell is a Chicken Up?”

“A chicken restaurant.”

“Groundbreaking” Baela quips.

“I’ve been to one in Seoul. Great wings.”

“But…but…Jollibee!” Rhaena pleads. “I need a coconut pineapple pie!”

“You’re literally drinking a coconut pineapple smoothie right now. When am I supposed to get my wings?!”

“Out of loyalty, I will have to vote for Jollibee,” Luke informs Aegon apologetically.

“I saw a Five Guys when we were driving here from the airport,” Baela suggests.

“Oh, I love Five Guys!” you say…and then you realize how it sounds. All of you giggle so loudly that Aemond looks over at the whirlpool, a little intrigued, a little miserable. He sinks down into the transparent blue water, Godzilla retreating from his wreckage.

Baela teases you: “Like, all at the same time, or…?”

“No, definitely one after the other. I don’t want an audience.”

Aegon chuckles, low and devious. He sets his empty pina colada glass on the rim of the whirlpool. Then, unprompted, he takes off his aviator sunglasses and puts them on you instead. Strange.

Rhaena is saying: “Okay, but seriously, I cannot overstate the merits of Jollibee…”

Beneath the water, obscured by riotous bubbles, Aegon settles a hand on your thigh. You glance over at him. He glances back, so subtly that the others don’t notice; they are deeply entrenched in their dinner debate. Now Baela is pitching MOS Burger.

Aegon arches an eyebrow. Okay? he’s asking. In reply—and after a moment’s hesitation—you open your thighs a little wider for him. His lips curl into a furtive smile. His palm skates excruciatingly slowly over your skin, taunting, electrifying, fingerprints dragging lightly. He’s still carrying on a conversation with the others, gesturing with his free hand. You sip your pina colada and try to act just as casual.

“Look,” Aegon is saying. “I’m not gonna eat someplace where they serve spaghetti with hotdogs in the meat sauce. It’s unnatural.”

His fingers slip beneath your swimsuit bottoms. You gasp before you can stop yourself.

“You okay?” Baela asks with concern.

You nod, blood rushing in your cheeks, blood rushing everywhere. “Oh, yeah, sorry. I saw a bug.”

Luke says: “Man, the insects here are insane, some giant buzzing black-and-gold thing flew into my face earlier today and I almost cried.”

“A cicada,” you murmur. You grip the rim of the whirlpool and try to keep still, fixing your gaze on the palm trees that surround the pool, waving lazily in a hot humid breeze. “We have them in Missouri too. But ours are green.”

Rhaena is saying: “Apparently Singapore is famous for some super-rare beetle that’s been around for like 50 million years…”

Aegon’s expert fingers are circling, applying pressure, experimenting with different rhythms. He knows he’s found the right one when you suck in a breath and almost drop your pina colada; his smile is filling up his face, he’s fighting a grin. That feeling—a heat, a glowing, an unfurling like an opened letter—builds until it hits a blissful yet constraining plateau. It’s a ceiling, it’s a landing with no more steps. You stare at the swaying palm trees and try to relax, grateful for Aegon’s aviator sunglasses to hide behind. He’s half-watching you as he chats nonchalantly, wondering what more you need from him.

The conversation that whirls around you has revolved back to dinner: Shake Shack, Yoshinoya, Nene Chicken, Marrybrown, Wingstop.

“We should go somewhere that has vegan options,” you say shakily.

“What? Why?” Rhaena asks; she has forgotten, but you never do.

“For Aemond.”

You steal a glimpse of Aemond over in the main pool and see him taking a piece of starfruit off Cregan’s plate. Aemond bites into it—those pristine, glistening, golden angles—and wipes juice from his lips with the back of one hand. Then he looks over at you: two people pretending they don’t see the other, two pairs of sunglasses meant to render certain things invisible. And immediately, without planning to, you are thinking about Aemond touching you. You are thinking about his lips and his fingers, his shoulders, his throat, his eye devouring parts of you he’s never seen. You are thinking about where you would both be now if Reykjavik had never happened. And as Aegon’s hand works beneath the veil of bubbles, you are close, so close, agonizingly close. You are incapable of following the conversation. It takes everything in you not to moan and reach down into the roiling water to press him even more forcefully against you. His fingers glide through folds that are slick and achingly ravenous. Your pina colada is melting.

Someone makes a restaurant suggestion; you can’t register it. Aegon holds up the index finger on his free hand. “One moment. Allow me to consult my associate.” He leans into you, his hair brushing against your face, smelling like beer and sunscreen and pina coladas and Axe body spray. And he whispers as he pushes two fingers inside you and strokes you insistently with them: “Come for me, pretty girl. Right now.”

And while these words are in Aegon’s voice, for a split second you image them as Aemond’s; and then your climax shudders through you, silent by necessity but mind-numbing, a reset button, a deleted message, an echo chamber of nothing, nothing, nothing. For a moment, there’s no past and no future, no Kansas City, no Rome, no Reykjavik, no Singapore, no shame and no guilt and no desire for anything. And then slowly, like drops of rain, the world begins to fill back in again.

Aegon turns your face towards him so your lips are to his ear. You have to say something. “You’re unbelievable,” you exhale, so softly no one else will hear. “You can’t be real.”

He tells the others: “She says she votes for Chicken Up.”

When Aegon leaves the whirlpool, you follow after him a few minutes later, just long enough of a gap not to arouse any suspicions. You find him alone in the band’s private cabana and talking to someone on his iPhone. You kneel down beside his lounge chair and bend over his neon red swim trunks, palming him through the fabric—almost immediately, he is hard—and untangling the knot of the drawstring.

“Okay. Sounds good. I gotta go. Emma? Hey, Emma? I gotta go now. Yeah. See you soon. Uh huh. Bye.” Aegon hangs up and sets his phone down. Then he hooks a finger beneath your chin and lifts it. “What are you doing?” he asks, amused yet kind.

“Taking care of you.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

Your hands go still; your face is lined with wounded bewilderment. “You don’t want me to?”

“Well obviously I want you to,” Aegon says. “But only if you’re really into it. Not just because you see it as a debt to be paid. This isn’t about reimbursement. This isn’t an ATM transaction. And, you know…” He shrugs, rueful. “I can tell you’re kinda going through it. And you’re the one who needs to be taken care of right now. That’s cool. That’s not a problem.”

You sit back on your ankles, feeling guilty but undeniably relieved. “It seems unfair to you.”

“Stargirl, I don’t mean this in a braggy way, but at all times I have a line out the door of women begging to take care of me. I think I’ll survive.”

“Okay.” You smile up at him. “Okay, Aegon. I get it. Thank you.”

His sunburned brow crinkles. He is confused. “For what?”

~~~~~~~~~~

Comet Donati is scheduled to play three nights at the National Stadium. On the afternoon of the second show, Luke and Rhaena go to Fort Canning Park to explore the archaeological excavation site, Jace and Baela depart to procure his tattoo to commemorate Singapore (a Merlion on his left pec), and you, Aegon, Cregan, Criston, Daeron, Aemond, and Shelby receive a private tour of the Mandai Wildlife Reserve to promote the conservation of endangered Southeast Asian species. There are conversations with the staff and generous gift baskets and photo ops—which each time you quietly step out of the frame for, while Shelby steps in—but what snags in your mind, what you will remember forever about this day is Aemond. Because when he holds the animals, he lights up like you haven’t seen since those YouTube videos of Comet performances before the accident in Tokyo; he becomes at peace, he becomes whole again. He lets a blue tarantula creep across his palm and forearm, he feeds pumpkin slices to Asian elephants rescued from circuses, he walks around with Bunny the sloth draped over his chest like a napping toddler. And he smiles wistfully the whole ride back to the hotel…even when Aegon makes Criston stop the Escalade at Starbucks so he can get a venti-sized Double Chocolaty Chip Frappuccino.

Shelby likes to be in the front row with you, Baela, and Rhaena, but she spends less time dancing and cheering than she does taking selfies and recording video clips. During your now least-favorite song, A Girl Named After A Car, you spend a few minutes covertly scrolling through Shelby’s latest Instagram posts. She’s been sharing Stories relentlessly, but her last photo is from the private jet: her beaming smile, Aemond’s more reticent one (and only his good side, his smooth cheek and clear river-blue eye), a meticulously-arranged bouquet of flowers clutched to her chest like a gift. The comments are a waterfall of praise worthy of a saint. I was praying you two would get back together! You have such a kind and selfless heart, Shelby! You are so good for him! You are so brave! Thank you for showing the world that beauty is only skin-deep! Like she’s goddamn Mother Teresa. Like she deserves an Olympic medal for finding the strength to love him.

And you think once again, not for the first time and not the last: I hate her, I hate her, I hate her.

After the concert is a ritual, like drawing a pentagram or burning sage. People converge in Jace’s suite to mingle and drink and smoke and find someone to fuck if that vacancy isn’t already filled. You loiter by the bar even after you are handed your Bramble, a drink that should be poisoned by the fact that Aemond introduced it to you; but you can’t stop craving it. Criston is pacing and trying to make a call out on the balcony; from the look of his expression, the person isn’t answering. Cregan is in a velvet lounge chair with three models on his lap; they are taking turns feeding him the dripping cherries that bob in their cocktails. The rest of the band is sitting nearby and discussing their plans for next year once the tour has ended. You overhear Rhaena saying that she wants to visit the Mammoth Site in South Dakota. Luke wants to finish writing a new album. Aemond is conspicuously quiet.

Security guys float through the room between currents of musicians, label executives, friends, acquaintances, assistants. Shelby has her own detail that follows her everywhere; approximately every eight hours they switch out and new faces show up. Sometimes you recognize them from a prior shift, sometimes not. They look through you like you don’t exist at all.

A seat is waiting for you between Aegon and Baela, but you are in no hurry to sit opposite of Shelby and be forced to bask in the radiance of her flowing zebra-print dress, red-lipped, California-sun perfection. As you procrastinate with your Bramble, you listen to Daeron ask her about the Met Gala next May.

“Yeah, I finally made it onto the planning committee!” she gushes.

“Yay!” Baela trills, palpably sarcastic.

“Make it donut themed,” Aegon slurs. He has had a lot of Tiger Beers.

“I was thinking a masquerade ball, actually,” Shelby says, then looks at Aemond and settles a hand on his thigh. “We can go together, honeybunch! The timing never worked out before, but I’ve always wanted to attend with you.”

Luke asks: “And what’s the inspiration for the masquerade ball…?”

“Well, you know.” Shelby gestures vaguely. “Aemond won’t have to feel bad.”

Because everyone will be wearing masks. There is a long lull as people piece together what she means. Jaws drop open. Eyes grow large and then blink at her, incredulous, appalled.

Finally, Jace chuckles awkwardly. “Oh fuck, did you really just say that?” He looks around at everyone else. “Did she really just say that?! I mean, I wouldn’t even have said that!”

“It’s fine,” Aemond says, getting up off the couch.

Shelby reaches for him. “Honeybunch, wait, you know I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine,” he repeats roughly. He takes his Bramble with him as he escapes to the balcony. Criston returns inside just as Aemond goes out.

“What’s his problem?” Criston inquires. Nobody answers.

Shelby sighs and—as furious blood swirls hot in your veins—approaches the bar. “Can I get a gin and tonic?” She takes out her phone, scrolls for a while, sighs again. You are glaring murderously at her. Shelby doesn’t even notice. The bartender slides her a tall glass full of clear carbonated liquid, ice, cucumber slices. She takes a picture of it before she plucks out the straw, lays it on the counter, and swallows a single, ladylike sip straight from the glass. She says to the bartender: “Drinking out of straws gives you wrinkles, you know.”

You say to her suddenly: “What is wrong with you?”

Shelby turns to you, startled. “Excuse me?”

You take a step closer, your pinkish Bramble still clasped in your hand. “I’ll ask again: what the fuck is wrong with you?”

She’s backing away, jumpy, clicking in her black heels. “What are you talking about?!”

“How dare you say something like that about him. In front of him.”

“Oh, so now I’m a bitch?” Shelby snaps. “Because I want him to have a good time at the Met Gala? Because I don’t want him to be humiliated?”

“No, because you think there’s anything humiliating about him at all, that’s what makes you a bitch—”

She shoves you backwards, only a few steps. You throw your Bramble in her face. She screams like you’ve stabbed her; it’s a scream that says I don’t know what it’s like to be hurt. And instantaneously, one of her security guards has his monstrous hand around your wrist.

You hear the pop before you feel it: bubbles bursting, tethers snapping. Then the pain explodes into your consciousness like a flashbang grenade. You’re shrieking, and suddenly there are voices all around you and people tugging in every direction. The security guy still has a grip on your wrist; each time he moves, he yanks you along with him, igniting fresh flairs of agony, impossibly red Morse code.

“No no no no no!” Aegon is shouting, pawing at the security guy. “She’s with us, she’s with us—!”

“Let her go!” Criston booms. Rhaena is crying. Baela is punching the security guy in the kidneys. Comet’s security guards clash with Shelby’s security guards, a miniature civil war. Within seconds the misunderstanding is resolved and you are freed. You are engulfed by Aegon and Criston, who try to examine your wrist; you are holding it gingerly to your chest, not even aware that you are sobbing. Baela is berating the rogue security guard. Rhaena, Luke, Jace, Daeron, Cregan, and Cregan’s soon-to-be one night stands are gaping at the scene. Shelby is being comforted by several fellow influencers; they coo sympathetically and give her napkins to mop the Bramble from her face.

Aegon, drunk but not far-gone, coaxes your wounded arm from your chest. “Shh, shh, you’re okay, let me see it…”

“Broken,” Criston pronounces. “Or dislocated. Time to go.”

“I can’t go home,” you say, petrified. Your thoughts are muddled by shock and pain.

Criston shakes his head. “No, not home. To the hospital.”

“I can take her,” Aegon volunteers, lurching as he grabs a barstool to keep his balance.

“No!” you, Baela, Rhaena, Luke, Jace, Daeron, and Cregan burst out simultaneously.

“I’ll take her,” Criston says. “But you can come along, if you behave yourself and don’t try to steal morphine or anything. Bartender, I need ice…”

There is a commotion as Aemond bolts in from the balcony, moments too late. He looks at your swelling wrist, Shelby dripping with a Bramble, Baela taking a cloth full of ice cubes from the bartender and passing it to Criston. “What happened?!”

Aegon seethes as he pushes him aside: “Ask your fucking girlfriend.”

And Aemond watches, thunderstruck and horrified, as Criston escorts you out of the suite with Aegon and Baela following like shadows. When you glance back at him, he is growing smaller and smaller, like an object fading away in the reflection of a rearview mirror.

Under bright white lights, a gentle and mild-mannered Singaporean doctor maneuvers your bones back into place. It feels like you’re dying; Aegon tries to distract you with stories of shenanigans from tours long past, Baela finally begins to talk about ballet schools, which programs she likes and which she doesn’t and what exactly she’ll have to show in her audition tapes. The doctor informs you that you have a mild dislocation, no surgery needed, no cast, only a splint. He tells you to rest it and try to keep it elevated. He gives you pain medication that doesn’t do enough.

“That is an interesting saying,” the doctor says when he glimpses your tattoo, black ink between the straps of your pale pink dress, like the color of a healthy lung or brain: I’ll come back for you if it kills me, Comets clip by again after eons and so can I. You try not to think about these words. You don’t know what to make of them anymore. “Is it from a poem? Or a movie?”

“From a song,” you reply, studying the tiles of the floor. “One I used to love.”

Criston goes to pay the bill. Baela goes to get you a soda from the vending machine. “I’m sorry,” Aegon says miserably when the two of you are alone in the hospital room. Beer and remorse sweats out of his pores. “I’m sorry I fucked everything up in Reykjavik.”

“I know, Aegon. I’m not mad at you.”

“I shouldn’t have said it. I had way too much Icelandic beer, that was my bad. But it was supposed to be a compliment.”

“It was kinda sweet. In an unhinged, debaucherous sort of way. An Aegon way.”

And he burrows his head against your chest, and you comb your fingers through his messy blond hair with your uninjured hand, and you wish you understood why the coincidences of the world had brought you together if it was only a blip, an error, a momentary crossing of orbits before you returned to your designated places on opposite ends of the universe.

In the elevator, as the four of you zoom up to the top floor where the band’s suites are, you check your phone to discover that in addition to well-wishes from Luke, Rhaena, Daeron, and Cregan, Jace has sent you a WhatsApp message: A meme to make you feel better…

“Ugh,” you groan, and toss your phone back into your purse. You try to ignore the fact that there is nothing from Aemond, not a single word, not a missed call, nothing.

“You good?” Aegon asks.

“Yeah. The drugs the hospital gave me aren’t quite cutting it.” That’s very true, although that’s not the whole problem.

“You want some Vicodin?”

“No thank you, Aegon.”

“Oxy? Percocet? Klonopin? Codeine? Demerol? Coke? Speedball? Valium? Weed gummies?”

You blink at him as Criston and Baela stare at the elevator walls, trying not to listen in. “I think I’ll just go to sleep now.”

“Okay, Stargirl. Sure. Whatever you want.” He grabs your face, lands a kiss on your forehead, staggers off to his suite when the elevator doors ding and open. You walk in the opposite direction to yours after thanking Criston and Baela. As you pass Aemond’s suite, you can hear people arguing inside, heavy footsteps and sharp words.

“You need to get better control over your people,” Aemond is saying.

“Who even is she?! I know she’s not Aegon’s girlfriend. Aegon doesn’t have girlfriends.”

There is a gap of silence, and you wonder what Aemond will tell Shelby. She’s a fan, she’s an employee, she’s a groupie, she’s a slut. At last he says, drained: “She’s a therapist.”

“Oh, for you?”

And you can hear Aemond sigh through the door, perpetually a broken thing now, forever someone in need of being stitched back together; they got the flesh back in December, but the soul is still unmended.

You go to your suite, wash the night off of you, and pull on your Cookie Monster pajama pants and an oversized One Direction t-shirt. You can’t sleep yet; the pain in your wrist is too bad, the chaos in your mind is too loud. You take another pill from the bottle the doctor gave you and go out onto your balcony and sit in the sounds of Singapore past midnight: sparce traffic, buzzing cicadas, the ocean, the wind rocking the palm trees. When you hear the sliding glass door open, you aren’t sure who to expect: Aegon, Baela, Criston, Cregan, Jace. It is none of these people. It is Aemond. He stands there rigidly, like he hadn’t planned to get this far. He is in black—as usual—but he wears no sunglasses.

“Criston really needs to start keeping a closer eye on those extra room keys,” you say.

“I’m sorry about what happened tonight.”

“You don’t need to pretend to be worried about me. It’s fine, just leave.”

“I feel responsible.”

“I’m not someone you consider worthy of concern,” you say. “You want me to be honest with you? You want to keep a running list of my sins in your little black-paged notebook? Alright, sure. I’ve been hooking up with Aegon. Only after Reykjavik, and not…like…all the time or exclusively or anything. But occasionally. And I know exactly what you think of me and how I’ve chosen to live my life. So don’t come out here acting like you care when you clearly don’t.”

“I know what you told Shelby. I don’t…” He stares at you, a little mystified, a little grateful. “I don’t understand why you keep defending me after what I said.”

Because I believe you deserve better. And I care about you. And I can’t stop. And honestly it fucking sucks and so if you could just leave, that would be great. “That’s just what I do.”

You expect Aemond to go. Instead, he sits down in the other chair, lights one of his Benson & Hedges cigarettes, takes a drag and exhales smoke in a long, slow breath like a hushed confession. “I once asked what made you want to be a therapist.”

“And I didn’t tell you.”

“No.”

Your eyes list to him like a ship in a storm, groggy, clawing for purchase. “Do you still want to know?”

“I do.”

The night sounds like wind in clattering wet leaves, car horns and rolling tires, ocean waves, indistinct echoes of laughter like a memory. Aemond waits for you, patient, eternal, or at least so long-lived it’s practically the same thing. You wonder what he sees when he looks at you like this. You wonder why you can’t outrun what you feel for him, a curse or a spell or both tangled up together like veins beneath skin. “I had a boyfriend when I was in high school,” you say. “And I took pictures for him. Because he asked me to, yes, but also because I wanted to, because it made me feel desirable, and powerful, and like I was choosing to share something special with him. No one talked me into it, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. And when we broke up, he sent those pictures to his friends. And they sent them to their friends, and they sent them to their friends, and I’m sure you can do the math from there.”

Aemond doesn’t look disgusted or horrified or pitying. He looks furious, and not at you. “That’s illegal, right?”

“In some places, sure. In Missouri? Ten years ago?” You smirk cynically, shaking your head. “The only person anyone was condemning was me. And it wasn’t just the students. They said things, obviously. They wrote notes and they whispered. But it was the teachers too, and the parents, and the administrators. It was everyone. Staring at me. Talking about me like they understood who I was.” You meet Aemond’s eye. “And you called me a slut.”

He voice is hoarse. “I didn’t know.”

“But you still said it.”

“What I said…” he sighs shakily, rubbing his face with one hand. He crushes the end of his cigarette beneath his Adidas sneakers and then lights another. “What I said wasn’t a reflection on you or what you did with Aegon. That’s not what it was about. It was about me, it was about how I interpreted things, and…I mean, you get that, right? You know that. You’re a professional. I took what Aegon told everyone and I bounced it off a few mirrors and ran it through my filter of how I’ve been taught to believe the world operates, and that’s why I said what I did in Reykjavik. It wasn’t about you. It wasn’t true. And I could never express to you how sorry I am.”

Tell me the whole story, you think, you plead, watching him like parched earth looks for rain. That you were afraid my feelings for you weren’t real. That you wanted me then and you still want me now. That you’ve never wanted anything the way you want me. But that’s not what Aemond says.

“What happened next?” he asks gently.

“What do you think? I had to be homeschooled. I lost every friend I’d ever had. I was terrified to leave the farm and go anywhere…to Walmart, to McDonald’s, to 7-Eleven, anywhere. And my parents…they’re Southern Baptists, okay? They tried to be supportive. They really did. They didn’t shame me, and that alone was a huge leap for them, and I’m very grateful. But they had no idea how to talk to me about what had happened. What they did do was find someone else for me to talk to. She was a therapist, and she saved my life. And when I got into UChicago, I decided that the only thing I wanted to do was help people in the same way.”

“Why didn’t you stay in Chicago?” Aemond says, bewildered. “I mean, why would you go back to Kansas City after the way people treated you there? So fucking closed-minded and hypocritical and…and…and evil? You were a kid. You were a goddamn kid and they tried to destroy you. Why would you go back there? You could have gone anywhere else. You still can.”

“I considered it,” you admit. “But my family has lived in Missouri for almost 200 years. It was once a place of opportunity, somewhere for people who had nothing to carve out a piece of the world and make it their own. Why should I let anyone banish me without my permission? And besides, I think Missouri could use more people like me. I can make a difference there. Someone like me in Chicago or London or Los Angeles or New York or Miami? I’m a dime a dozen. In Missouri, I’m part of the change. In Missouri, I can save people like I was once saved.”

“Hmm,” Aemond says. And then he smiles at you, kind and tender. “Pretentious.”

“Oh shut up,” you laugh, shoving him with your uninjured hand: his deep, warm, rolling chuckle, his broad shoulders that barely give beneath your palm.

His eye flicks down to your One Direction t-shirt. “And a traitor.”

Want me to take it off? you almost say. Instead: “As if you don’t idolize them. As if you wouldn’t deign to have a favorite One Direction song.”

“I couldn’t divulge information as sensitive as that.”

“Aegon tells me you spend a lot of time brooding to The Script.”

Aemond groans, but good-naturedly. You got me, his face says, surrendering. “True.”

“What’s your go-to crying on the floor song? Breakeven? Nothing?”

“The Man Who Can’t Be Moved. But now you have to give me one in return.”

“If You Ever Come Back. A certified tragic bop.”

He nods, thoughtful. He slides his phone out of his pocket to check it.

“Sexts from Shelby?” you ask with undisguisable vitriol.

“No. Favorite Coldplay song?”

You remember that night with him in Rome: the concert, the motorcycle, the lingering in the hotel room doorway as you waited for him to ask to stay. “Every Teardrop Is A Waterfall. What’s yours? You strike me as a The Scientist stan.”

“Viva La Vida,” he counters.

Of course. “I used to rule the world,” you quote.

“Now the old king is dead, long live the king.” He looks out into the city, streetlights and ocean and wind, sounds of the planet you call home. Again, you think of Rome. “I should have kissed you,” he says softly.

Your heart stops like a car against a brick wall, glorious euphoric shattering. “What?”

“My favorite One Direction song. I Should Have Kissed You.”

“Oh, right. Yeah. Yeah, that’s great.”

“Yours?”

You have to think about this. At last you decide: “Through The Dark.”

“Ah. A deep cut.” Aemond checks his phone again. “Look up,” he tells you.

“Why…?”

“Right now. At the sky. Look up.”

You go to the balcony railing and peer up into the sea of darkness and moon and stars. And at first you don’t see anything extraordinary…but then you do. There’s a thin flash like white ink on black paper, tracing its way along the arc of the Earth. There’s a visitor, there’s a time traveler. “What is it?” you ask Aemond, entranced.

He gets up to stand alongside you. “The Perseids. A meteor shower that happens every summer. They’re difficult to spot from a city. Too bright, too much light pollution. There are hundreds, but here we’re lucky to glimpse one or two.”

“But they’re always there,” you muse, remembering what he told you in Rome about the comet that gave the band its name. “Whether we see them or not.”

Aemond points up at the faint silvery glimmer in the indigo night. “The Perseids are from a comet too. They’re debris left by Swift-Tuttle.”

“Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue like Donati, does it? And no potential for cute donut merch.”

Aemond smiles. “Comet Swift-Tuttle is the largest object to cross Earth’s orbit so closely. Very, very closely. Luckly, it only swings by us every 133 years. It’s been called the single most dangerous object known to humanity.”

“I thought that was Jace.”

He bursts out laughing, gazing over at you with a face that in this moment he is unashamed of. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“I’m a universe away from Shelby, that’s for sure.”

Aemond’s smile dies. He clears his throat and puts out his cigarette. “I guess I should get going.”

“Yeah, I need to go to sleep.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

He hesitates, he acts like he’s going to say more, he leaves you on the balcony as he retreats back to his own suite, his own life, his own past and future and secrets.

And before you crawl into your empty bed, you look up at the Perseids one last time as they hurtle through space and time and gravity, through a landscape of constellations that Aemond could tell you the names of, through the dark.

[miyalove]

 ⋆｡˚⁀➷ MY QUARANTINE. 

⤷ pairing. bokuto koutoro x gn!reader

⤷ genre. tooth-aching fluffly fluff, best friends to lovers, college au

⤷ warnings. oc insert (jamine). mentions of alcohol, alcohol consumption, clichés upon clichés, bo just being the absolute CUTEST, *unedited

2.6k | with the virus on the rise again, you decide that a lonely valentines day seems like the safest option, but bokuto has other plans.

“can you believe we’re gonna have to spend this month in quarantine, again?” a high pitch whine echoes through your laptop speaker. when you look over, jasmine (a close friend of yours) is slumped over her desk chair glaring at her ceiling.

“shouldn’t be that hard, though.” you nod at what konoha says.

“that’s what i was thinking too,” you add in. on your laptop screen are flashes of familiar faces. each one of them smile back at you, doing their own thing as well as keeping up with the virtual conversation. akaashi scribbles into a notebook for one of his classes while he speaks, “we’ve been quarantine for a couple months already. what’s another going to add?” 

it seems that you, akaashi, and konoha are the only ones that see eye to eye. you mentally debate in your head, nodding to his words. in the middle of your thoughts, a sharp whine cuts you out of it. 

“yeah, but this is different!” 

the sudden sound makes you jump. when you look back at the screen, bokuto’s face covers his side of the monitor. he’s up close to the camera so the most you can make out his is nose and big, piecing eyes. the weird angle makes you laugh.

“how is this so different, bokuto?” someone muses. you can’t focus on who though too caught up in the way your best friend whines to get everyone’s attention. it’s a cute habit that he hasn’t been able to break since middle school. for what it’s worth though, you think it just makes him all the more adorable. 

“this is a month of going out and being in love, guys!” he moves frantically. big beefy arms flailing around to further prove his point. his his bottom lip guts out, mocking some sniffles. “quarantine’s just gonna make valentines die!” 

“exactly what i’m saying!” jasmine pipes in again. she takes a big bit of her food before continuing her rant. as she speaks, a piece lettuce falls out of her mouth. across the screen, akaashi blatantly glares at her gross habits. konoha stifles a giggle and you can’t help but to join in on the teasing. seeing konoha’s body shake with silent laugher really got you. 

your friend is unbothered by the giggles though. 

“this is the month of love!” jasmine punctuates her statement with a loud slam to her desk. “we should be g-getting out and doing lovely dovely valentines day shit, right bo?!”  

swiftly, bokuto springs back to life, shaking his head in agreeance. his eyes are wide and filled with stars. he moves way too fast for his camera to pick up so a good majority of the time he speaks, his figure is lagged with pixelated squares. 

“jay get’s it! yeah, yeah!” his glitched out figure suddenly appears further in the back of his room now. his fully body is on display and pixelated or not, you can still make out the way his defined thighs flex while he moves. “you’re supposed to be out and doing all the cute couple stuff!”

“but what if--”

“--and even if we’re not a couple, you can still do things like that! there’s stuff like... platonic love.” the last few words get cut off but you’re able to connect the dots. the way bokuto so proudly voices his thoughts without any doubt is a trait you admire. he means what he says and he says what he means. it’s really as simple as that. if only you could do the same. your shoulders fall at the thought.

you quickly snap out of your funk though. you’re in a call with all your closest friends, they’d notice a change in your demeanor in seconds. shaking your head to rid of any lingering thoughts, you stifle out a cackle. 

“well, platonic or not.” you perk up. “it still seems like a lonely valentines day is an order for everyone.” 

your friends nod despite jasmine’s grumbling. you don’t notice the way bokuto sighs. his brows are scrunched and lips are pressed into a thin line. determination glows within his hues. he’s a little irate how everyone was shoving the topic aside, but most importantly, he’s a little sad that you’re going to have to spend this valentines day all alone!

he’s known you for years and the fact that you’re alright with spending the day of love all to yourself? when you have him right there with you just waiting for your call? it’s personally heartbreaking. 

okay maybe he’s more than a little sad. 

besides the constant buzzing from all your friends spamming the group chat. you spent most of your valentines lounging around your home, just like you had promised. your hair is loose, messy and untamed. it matches the outfit your wearing that’s just perfect for simply relaxing. during the morning, you made yourself a quick breakfast. in the afternoon, lunch and a nice bath was the agenda. now in the evening, you’re settled in your living room while netflix’s latest rom-com plays in the background. 

you don’t really know what’s happening or who these characters are but today’s the day of love so why not celebrate it with a bottle of wine and imaging you and bokuto as the main leads of some stupid flick.

you’re in the middle of pouring another glass when your phone chimes with a special ringtone you set for someone special to you. it immediately catches your attention. you feel your heart shake and you know it’s not because of the alcohol.

the fluttering in your tummy seems to spread with the stupid nickname. you let the movie play in the background while you send him a quick response.

your phone chimes with another texts while barely had time to put it down.

before you can say anything back, a knock at the door interrupts your focus. mindlessly, you make your way to the door. when you open it, you expect to see someone (maybe even bokuto), but instead you’re meet with a big, bright red box sitting on your doormat. 

with the bright red wrapping and the comically large bow right on top, you simply can’t miss it. the box is big enough where you have to hold it with two hands in fear of dropping it. it’s heavy too and when you shift it slightly, whatever’s inside rattles. to top it all off, there’s no label or tag or anything that indicates this package is specifically for you. your brows crinkle. confusion pressed deep within your worried frown.

your hues trace the halls of your complex looking for someone, anyone to explain this random comeuppance. you weren’t expecting any packages. so what is this all about? something inside you tells you to leave it alone. your mail man doesn’t deliver packages at 6 o’clock at night so it can’t be that. is it possible that this was misplaced? you would feel horrible if this was some kind of surprise for a lover and their partner had gotten the buildings wrong. 

your phone vibrates in your pocket and for now, you decide to put the mystery package on hold. the special ringtone you set for a specific cutie makes your nerves jump in it’s confines. placing your glass down, the wine is long forgotten.

“hey, bo,” you great him with a smile once the call goes through.

“hey there, bun,” his grin falters a bit. it’s alarming how fast you can tell something is wrong. bokuto’s always been every expressive but still you’re able to read him like an open book in a matter of milliseconds. your connection goes as far as silent cues too. when he slumps his shoulders or pouts his lips during a test. he sighs differently when he’s shocked by wonder or sadness.

it’s the same with you to him. bokuto, despite popular belief, is so good at keeping up his friends cues. he’s able to read mood changes and tries his very best to cheer up the people he loves if he ever catches them slipping. he’ll even go as far as making a fool out of himself just to see that special person smile.

bokuto koutaro is a shining star and you’re beyond happy he’s in your reach.

“everything alright?” it’s a question that has him conflicted. you can tell from the whirl wind of emotions that were set off as you spoke. his brows are scrunched in concern, his bites at his bottom lip (which in any other case would be sexy), and most worrying, he’s not as cheery as usual. he seems tense and nervous. 

“bokuto?”

“ahh!” it comes out as an anxious sigh, “i was just thinking, is all!” his hands shoot up in a defensive position. it doesn’t take him long to start explaining.

“i was calling ‘cause you said you’d be lonely today and i didn’t want ya’ feeling like you weren’t loved, (y/n),” he’s looking away now. golden hues finding the floor or ceiling far more interesting. one of his hands comes to rub at the back of his neck, a nervous habit you picked up on.

the way he shyly smiles, so unlike himself, makes your chest heavy. the rapid beating of your heart shakes your ribcage. i didn’t want you to feel like you weren’t loved. he loves you. your conclusion feeds into he butterfly wings that tickle your stomach. he’s so adorable. the way he looks at you makes you want to kiss that conflicted little pout right off his stupidly gorgeous face.

“that’s real sweet of you, kou.” you smile up at him. grabbing at the box, you tuck it under your arm as you make your way to your living room. when you seat down on the sofa, the light conversation with bokuto takes a turn.

“so...”

“so?”

he can’t help the light chuckle that escapes him. “did you... find anything on your porch today?”

“yes... actually.” cautiously, you eye the box that’s been propped up as a temporary phone stand. “was it from-”

“did you- did you open it?” 

suddenly the last texts he sent makes sense now. the way he called you so shyly and played it off as best as possible. the nervous ticks that you don’t usually see when you talk. the glimpse of hope that maybe- just maybe, bokuto would come sweeping you off your feet this valentines day.

“not yet.” a bright teasing smile over takes your features as you say your next word, “why?” 

on the other side of the screen, bokuto’s cheeks flare up. the redness traveling past his neck and nips at the tip of his ears. you’re not an idiot. if he was the one that knew the box was there- then of course, it’s from him. without second guessing, you shift your phone propping it against a lone candle centered on your coffee table. 

you waste no time ripping into the wrapping paper and unboxing the goods inside. bokuto watches attentively. his eyes sparkle with excitement and a toothy grin takes over him as he leans towards the camera, trying his greatest to get the best angle possible. bokuto looks like a puppy excitedly waiting for their owner to come home. the anticipation is killing him.

shoving the tissues paper aside, you note the heart shaped confetti that the box is littered with. it’s a cute touch but the mess it’ll create as you take each item out has you holding back a laugh.

of course, bokuto notices. “what that all about?” you can see the upturn of his lips even without looking at him. it’s practically etched into your brain (and you wouldn’t have it any other way). 

“what’s what all about?” you dust off your hands, the glitter sticking to anything and everything. another giggle escapes you while you try to confide the mess as best as possible.

“all that laughing!” he sulks out. in your peripheral, you see him pull a face. bottom lip gutting out and big golden hues growing impossibly bigger. “i wanna know what’s so fuuuunny!” 

it’s too much. the way the box messes just like him. the way hearts are practically glowing within his iris. the way your heart trembles with each playful teasing, every kissable pout, and little shy glimmers. with every drawn out compliant and booming laughter that shakes your whole body. you just can’t keep a straight face with bokuto. no matter how hard you tried.

“i’m laughing at you, silly!” it’s a sudden response that has him bending over in a joyous fit of guffaw too. it’s the kind of laugh you hear from afar but know exactly who it is. each item you pull out, bokuto tells a small story about why he got it. despite knowing him for years, you hadn’t known how sentimental he was. the same memories you played on repeat so late at night where the same ones he dreamed about. the thought makes you beam impossibly brighter somehow feeling impossibly lighter.

you unwrap a bracelet with a paper plane charm on it. “for when you told me you wanted to travel the world!” he beams. “wherever you go, you can add a charm thingy to it!”

latching the jewelry, it’s a perfect fit. the metal tingles at your skin with how cold the metal is. it makes you thing of how warm bokuto’s hands are and how he’d gladly help warm you up. reaching in more, there’s a bag of all your favorite treats, gift cards to your favorite restaurants and boba shops. pairs upon pairs of fuzzy socks (”i know how cold you can get! so i wanted to do somethin about that!”) with cute little comics and characters on it. there’s candles with your favorite scents laced into the wax. 

“oh my god. this is--” you’re speechless. “you’re amazing, kou. really this is just... amazing.”

it is in this moment, when the sun has finally set and low quality of the call perfectly captures his ethereal presence and beaming smile. the way pure admiration and warmth radiate off of him even through your phone screen makes you realize one thing. sure you’ve liked bokuto koutaro but... oh boy are you in for it now.

“amazing valentines for an amazing person.” you curse at the heat that spreads up your neck. he’s too sweet. too considerate. too... perfect.

rummaging through the wrapping, your hand hits one last thing in the box. you feel the petals first. it’s smooth under your touch. velvety with each on you pick at. the steam is the opposite, rough at the touch. some thorns hadn’t been cut properly so if you grabbed it fast enough, you would have gotten pricked.

“a single rose?” you eye the flower. the petals colored a fiery red that matches the way bokuto blushes. 

“yeah! it’s nice, right? i figured putting a buncha flowers in the box would be a little hard to get around so i opted for the better option. then again, i could have just... put it on top of the box, huh.”

“kou?” you try to cut into his rambling. 

“but then someone could’ve taken it, i suppose. then this while thing would have been ruined! and now you’re probably asking ‘well what thing would have been ruined. kou?’ i’m glad you asked!”

you didn’t but maybe saying that’ll ruin the moment that he so obviously worked hard to get to. the rambling he’s been doing for the past minute is a big indicator that he’s coming to a conclusion. swallowing down your laughter, your expression crinkles in question.

“i guess what i’m trying to say, bun, is... will you be my quarantine?” 

you would be stupid to say no.

[maybedefinitely404]

Day 11: Intruloceit (pt 2)

@tsshipmonth2020

The sequel y’all were waiting for! (@hoppe-ideas)

Day 11: ‘Choose your own adventure’ day! I chose to continue from Day 9, since I couldn’t very well leave it there.

Content warning: allusions to abuse, Remus being Remus (need I elaborate?), implied past panic attack, mention of bipolar disorder, and of course, Janus’ crippling insecurities. Angst with a happy ending. 

Word count: 4k

*READ DAY 9 FIRST*

Blue: What time are you available?

Green: What is this, a doctor’s office? I’m free after lunch 

Blue: I was merely tr

Green: I know, I know. I’m just teasing you. It’s endearing, my little mocking-nerd. Bring your textbook, I’ll meet you in the cafeteria. It’s octopus learning time!

Blue: I will never understand you.

Green: Good 

He drew a crude rendering of the devil emoji, then a heart, and the conversation ended as quickly as it began.

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

Green: What would happen if you injected coca cola into your bloodstream

Blue: No.

Green: It’s just a question!

Blue: I’m assuming you would die.

Green: Damn. Can we try anyways?

Blue: No!

Green: C’mon, for science?

Blue: NO! Why did this question even arise?!

Janus hid a small chuckle, before immediately slapping a hand over his mouth. Even if the writing was as much on his arm as it was theirs, it still felt wrong to read it. Felt wrong to admit that he was starting to enjoy their shenanigans.

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

Green: Hey

Blue: Hello, my dear. What is so important that you couldn’t text me?

Green: my mom broke my phone and I’m having an attack

Janus sat straight up, his calligraphy pen clattering to the floor, effectively ruining the large swooping letters he was working on with a splattered gold streak. This was the first message the two had shared that wasn’t either Blue’s notes about homework or Green’s odd creative ideas, or cheesy conversations between the two that Janus tended not to read. It felt like intruding on someone’s life. He hadn’t learned their names yet, and while they always stuck to the same color scheme, he knew at this point he’d be able to distinguish their handwriting with no hesitation. It was his version of hearing their voices, and he’d started growing attached to them. He turned his full attention to the conversation on the back of his arm, feeling a surge of worry.

Blue: I’m on my way, be at the curb in ten minutes?

Green: thanks

Blue: Remember those breathing exercises. Try to stay calm. 

Green: please hurry

Blue: I’m driving as fast as I can, love.

The messages ended there, and Janus didn’t sleep that night.

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

Blue: Happy birthday, Remus. I hope you have an amazing day.

Remus: Are we still good to go for tonight? 

Blue: Of course. I had Roman and Patton help plan most of the date, so I hope you enjoy it.

Remus: Logan, if it’s with you, I will~ 

Logan: You’re a sap.

Remus: And you love it

Logan: Guilty.

Never had Janus felt so alone. It was one thing to have anonymous messages scribbled on your arm, little doodles and good luck wishes, but to know their names? That brought on a whole new round of tears that he hated himself for. Remus and Logan. The names of his so-called soulmates, the labels he could finally put to the personalities. As much as he hated to admit it, waking up had become a whole lot easier since they’d started appearing on his skin. It was something little to look forward to.

It also hurt, just a little bit more. Before he was eighteen, he’d been able to imagine his situation like his parent’s, with a soulmate who would end up hating and hurting him, and it was easy to decide to never communicate when the time arrived. And even if they seemed like genuinely good people, every time he lifted a pen to respond, to announce his presence, he stopped himself, as his father’s words rang through his head.

Why would anyone want you, Janus?

You’re a mistake, and they’ll see that instantly.

Honestly, what good do you even have to offer a soulmate?

He didn’t want them to be true, but it wasn’t like anyone had ever told him differently. His mother avoided his eyes and was silent, his peers treated him like a disease, so those words were the ones he started to believe. So he capped the pen, pulled his sleeve down, and ignored the small feather light tickles as they spread across his arms. 

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

Of course, it wasn’t avoidable forever. 

It was writing on skin, did he think that was something he would never do accidentally? Was he really that stupid? They were going to be so pissed when they found out how long he’d been snooping on their conversations. They’d hate him. They’d never be open to the idea that he was somehow meant to be in their lives. He was done. He was such an idiot.

These were the thoughts raging through his mind as he looked down over himself in shock, spilled amber ink shimmering on his skin. It was an accident; an opening of an ink pod combined with over enthusiastic dancing to the Chicago soundtrack, leading to a faltering concentration and skin covered in staining gold. He’d been sitting cross legged on his chair when the cartridge exploded, and he’d bounded to his bathroom to try and wash it off, but it had only been partially successful. There was no doubt in his mind that they would see it. It had covered a good majority of today’s messages on his arms, smeared across his shins from hurriedly trying to wipe it away, and speckled across his face like the world’s most unfortunate freckles. 

He dropped back into his chair, his music now turned off, and laid his head on the cool wood of his desk. The ticking on his clock was the only sound in the room and he counted each one, mentally marking the minutes as they passed by. Waiting. Five minutes of silent fear had passed before a new anxiety began to rise in him. What if they were his soulmates, but he wasn’t theirs? He’d heard of it happening, ever so rarely, that soulmarks weren’t reciprocated. If that was true for him, and he was starting to become sure it was, they wouldn’t see the ink. They never would. He would be forced to live the rest of his life on the outside, reading their life on his skin but never able to take part. Somehow that seemed a lot worse now that it wasn’t his choice.

Just as he was starting to spiral, a familiar tickle on his arm snapped him back to the present. His head jerked up, hair falling into his heterochromatic eyes as he followed the dark blue script, starting just under the largest golden spill.

Hello? 

And how should he respond to that? He couldn’t think of a fun one liner, a sassy quip, to introduce himself. For the first time in his life, lying wasn’t an option, and he hated that. He grabbed the first pen he could grab, a black ballpoint, with shaking fingers.

Hi. Well, that was lame. 

You’re our soulmate. It was less of a question, more of a statement. Janus took a deep breath, bringing the pen down again.

Yes. 

I’m sorry. What he was apologizing for, he couldn’t quite put a finger on. But it felt right. Apologizing was simply second nature to him.

Whatever for?

He didn’t know how to answer that time, so he did what he always did best, and watched. Waited again, hoping that Blue (Logan, he remembered vaguely), would just drop the subject. This was the most conversation he’d had with someone in a while. 

My name’s Remus. The other dork is Logan. 

The green ink appeared under the blue, and Janus’ heart dropped painfully in his chest. As if he didn’t already know their names. It’s not as if he could say that, though. 

You seem kinda shy. It’s cute 

Let them speak, Remus. 

Both of them went silent, offering time to allow Janus to write. But he didn’t know what to say, how to explain… 

So he didn’t. He yanked down the sleeves of his pajama top, pulling the edges over his hands to hide the now dried golden  ink, and collapsed onto his bed, dooming himself to another night of restless sleep. 

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

If Janus had the choice, he wouldn’t have gone to school the next day. He would have laid curled up under his blanket, struggling to tune out the sound of his parents arguing, letting the world pass him by like an old camera reel. Janus didn’t have the choice though, not when he remembered it was nearing the end of the year and exam season was drawing closer, and then the bickering downstairs became motivation. Good grades would equal an out-of-state college, which would mean getting away from thrown dishes and slamming doors. 

Even so, that didn’t mean that Janus didn’t regret the entire day of school. It seemed like a breath of fresh air when the lunch bell rang and the students shuffled out of the class in a lump, leaving just him and Mr. Sanders behind, as per usual. Just as he reached down to pull his lunch out of his bag (just a handful of cold scrambled eggs he had set aside from his already meager breakfast), the teacher spoke.

“I actually have a meeting today, Jay. You’re gonna have to find a different place to have lunch.”

“What?” Janus recoiled as he spoke, his own voice sounding foreign to him. He hadn’t meant to talk back, half expecting a lecture, and was surprised when the teacher’s expression morphed into one of sympathy.

“Sorry, bud. It’s a staff meeting, and I couldn’t find a TA to watch the room over the break. It’s only for today. Cafeteria is open though, I’m sure you can find an empty table there. Or better yet,” He smiled softly, lifting his laptop bag onto his shoulder, “Sit with someone. I’m sure it’ll be okay.”

Janus picked up his bag as well, rushing from the room without a second glance. He didn’t feel like explaining that the reason he sat alone wasn’t his choice, and he couldn’t help it. He was just tired of being pushed away, so why not make the first move himself. 

The path to the cafeteria was hardly trodden by him, and he tried to take in the pictures of past grad classes on the wall for as long as possible before his time was up. The security guard marching the halls gave him a pointed look, reminding him that he couldn’t stay in the hallways during lunch, so he hunched his shoulders and walked into the lunch room. He cursed the weather under his breath for being so damn hot today; he would melt in his hoodie and gloves to cover the ink. Luckily the splatters on his face blended in enough with the skin tone to be unnoticeable. 

The first thing he noticed is that it was loud. People shouted, trays clattered, and Janus wanted nothing more than to curl up in his hoodie. Social interaction. Gross. The second was that Mr. Sanders had been right, there was a line of empty tables at the back that people seemed to avoid in favor of grouping together in the center. The third and final thing was the overwhelming sense of loneliness that flooded Janus as soon as he walked in. Sitting alone in an empty room was one thing, choosing to sit alone in a crowded room was another. 

For a split second, the teacher’s words ran through his mind, and he wondered briefly if he should join a group, only for his anxiety to immediately shut the idea down with a shriek of are you crazy?!

He chose the closest table to the door that was untouched and sat hesitantly, appetite lost. All he had to do was get through an hour of this, he thought painfully. If he paid close enough attention, he could tune into other people’s conversations, and if he closed his eyes and drifted far enough, he might actually imagine that he was a part of them. 

“Hi!”

Janus’ eyes shot open and he shrunk back as if he’d been slapped. Standing in front of him was a guy he recognized from his math class, bouncing on his heels enough to make his blonde curls fall into his eyes. He was grinning from ear to ear, gleaming teeth matching the white collar that stood out from under his blue sweater. 

“Do you want to sit with us?”

His critical glare didn’t deter the overly joyful guy as he gestured over Janus’ shoulder, encouraging him to look. He did, albeit reluctantly. Four people were sitting at the table behind him, three caught up in a spirited conversation. The last one was staring back at him owlishly through thick square glasses, and surprisingly, Janus wasn’t unsettled by the look. 

“Come sit with us!” The happy guy said again, looking like he was refraining himself from just grabbing Janus and pulling him over. His round glasses had started edging down his nose as he hopped from foot to foot.

“Are you sure?”

“Yep! Please?” He drew out the word for several seconds. Janus couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips, nodding mutely and gathering his backpack. His anxiety started again, pelting him with ‘they’re going to hate you’s and ‘this changes nothing’s, but he pushed them down resolutely. It was just the one meal. Tomorrow would be back to normal, eating lunch by himself in Mr. Sanders’ room. And he really couldn’t say no to that hopeful face. 

“Yay! Okay,” He led Janus to the table, dropping into one of the two empty seats and pointing to the one next to him. He took a deep breath before gushing on, “Sit! Okay, okay, okay, so I’m Patton, purple-hair is Virgil but they hate the name so you can just call them V. We all call them V. That’s Logan, and the twins are Roman and Remus. Remus has the white streak, but it’s actually really easy to tell them apart once you get to know them.”

Janus’ blood froze in the middle of Patton’s gleeful rant. Those names… those were all the names that kept popping up over the five months of secret soulmate snooping. That wasn’t a coincidence, right? Most of those names weren’t exactly common.

His eyes shifted to the two Patton had introduced as Remus and Logan, sitting shoulder to shoulder across from him. Remus had halted whatever he was talking so animatedly about in favor of greeting the newcomer, but Janus couldn’t get himself to wave back. Instead he dropped his gaze to their loosely intertwined hands on the table, feeling somewhat lightheaded at the identical golden stains covering both of them. 

So... he ran. He wasn’t proud of it, and he was somewhat certain that he’d made a scene, but he couldn’t do it. His own self doubt was crippling, all his fears rushing him full forced and reminding him just how little he mattered, how messed up his life had made him, how he would only ruin any possible relationship. This was all too real now. They fit so well to the picture he had unintentionally made of them in his mind; navy blue button up tops and slicked back hair, green bomber jackets and mussed up shoulder length curls. Eyes that glinted with barely concealed mirth, a dimpled grin revealing almost razor sharp canines. Two polar opposites, so perfectly built for each other, soulmates. He would just come along and ruin it. 

Screw the sun, he thought, as he sat on the scalding hot bleachers by the football field. To his extreme annoyance, tears had started drifting down his cheeks, and he hurriedly wiped them away from sheer habit. His dad didn’t like tears almost as much as he didn’t like Janus. It wasn’t like they would know it was him, right? All they knew was a stranger had been invited to their table and had booked it before they even got his name. So he could stay a mystery, a fly on the wall, for the rest of his days.

The all too familiar feeling on his arm was more of a curse now than it ever had been. Resigned to his fate, he rolled the sleeve up to read whatever the two were no doubt talking about. 

Hi. 

He looked around frantically despite his better judgment, his eyes landing on a figure standing at the end of the bench, uncapped pen in one hand and one blue sleeve rolled up. Logan regarded him with a careful look, locked in a staring contest that neither wanted to look away from. The other broke first, turning his focus to his steps across the rickety surface as he approached Janus. He took a seat, mumbling something about how hot it was, before scribbling something else onto his arm and capping the pen. Janus tried to fight the urge to look down at his own still-bare arm, but he couldn’t resist a quick peak.

I found him. Bleachers in the north field.

“Why don’t you take off the gloves, at least. It’s almost ninety degrees out.”

Welp. Apparently this was happening. “How did you know?” He whispered, not touching his gloves.

“Remus and I both felt naturally drawn to you as soon as you walked into the cafeteria. We could not and still can not explain it. When Patton followed our gaze, he was more than eager to invite you over. Not that he needed the prompting, I am certain he would have invited you over regardless of Remus’ and my feelings the moment you sat alone,” Logan stopped briefly, taking note of the new green smiley face under his last message, “Your reaction to our names and hands in rapid succession was enough to solidify our previous suspicions. That-” He pointed to the shared messages on their skin, “-was the final proof I needed.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, Janus at a complete loss for words, until a loud clang to their right grabbed both of their attentions. Remus was clinging to the railing like a vine, having climbed all the way from the bottom, he realized with a start. The older man crawled over the top and landed solidly, rattling the seats, before bouncing over to them.

“Hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi!” He plopped onto the bench in front of Janus, sitting backwards to face them. Consequently, he was slightly lower than the other two, and could see Janus’ usually ducked face for the first time. “Oooh, I like your birthmark! Is it a birthmark? Or a burn? Either way, I don’t care. I like it.”

“Gee, thanks,” Janus snarked before he could stop himself, his self protective tendency rising to the surface. Remus only giggled in response, manspreading a tad more and leaning forward on his elbows. 

“I like him, Logan. He’s feisty.”

“I’m so glad I have your approval.” He was on guard now, he couldn’t help it.

“Remus, stop pestering him. He just met us.”

Remus grumbled under his breath but held his tongue. Logan could silence him, he’d have to remember that for the future. If they had a future. He couldn’t help the sliver of hope since they had actually come to find him… but maybe it was to let him down easy. No clue.

“When did you turn eighteen?” The question shouldn’t have shocked him the way it did; it was a valid thought.

“Five months ago.”

And he waited, expecting the worst at the sharp intakes of breath from both of them. Expected them to stand up and leave. Expected them to call him a creep. Expected them to… anything, really. 

Well, anything except take his hands. Which they both did.

It was like they could speak telepathically, the way they seemed to be so in sync. Maybe that was a soulmate thing. Remus reached forward and weaved their fingers together at the same time that Logan placed his hand over Janus’ left one, squeezing it gently. They were both calming gestures in their own ways, and admittedly the most contact Janus had felt in maybe years. If that wasn’t enough to bring back his tears, Logan’s next words certainly were. 

“Why didn’t you write right away?”

“That’s so much missed time we could have spent together,” Remus chipped in, eyes surprisingly soft. 

“I…” Oh, for fuck’s sake. Better let them see how messed up he is now so they can walk away before he gets attached. More attached. “My parents are soulmates and they ended up hating each other. He’s a jerk, he hurts her and me and I didn’t want that to happen to me and my soulmate. Soulmates, I guess. Then the first thing I saw was you guys talking, and I realized, there’s two of you,” He laughed humorlessly, shrugging nonchalantly, “You wouldn’t be missing out if I never made myself known, and what kind of asshole would I be if I intruded on your relationship anyways? It’s not like I can add anything worthwhile. I’m not… that great of a person. I never have been. I have too much baggage and I’m pretty boring and I only scare people away so if I were you I’d get out while I had the chance.” His cracking voice gave away how he actually felt, and he despised himself for it. In all honesty, there was nothing he wanted more than to be held and loved and wanted. He’d never had that before in his life, was it a crime to not want to be pushed aside forever?

To his utter confusion, neither of them pulled away. He’d just vented to two strangers, and they were still as attentive as before. 

“Now, we don’t have time to unpack all of that,” Remus hummed in a decent impression of John Mulaney, letting his thumb glide over Janus’. 

“So if I’m correct,” Logan stated in a tone that implied he usually was correct, “You didn’t contact us because you didn’t want to burden us, or get yourself hurt.”

“I mean… yeah.”

“I’m going to kill your dad,” Remus chirped all too brightly, “For hurting you. And for ever making you think that we would hurt you.” 

“Remus!”

“It’s true!”

Logan sighed heavily, “Remus is a little extreme, sometimes, but he is harmless. Look, I can assure you that your presumptions are entirely false. We would never harm you, and anything you’ve gone through in your past, what you call baggage, is not a deterrent to us in the slightest.”

“I have bipolar disorder, and a whole wacky past that we’ll get into another time,” Remus added, waving away Logan’s ‘shut up’ face, “And in the fifteen years I’ve known this nerd, he’s always stood by me.”

Janus knew it was supposed to feel better, but learning that the two have known each other since long before they knew they were soulmates suddenly made Janus feel that much more like he was intruding. Remus must have noticed his expression, because he quickly kept going.   

“All I mean is that we have our fair share of baggage, my multicolored friend-”

“Remus!”

“Both of us do. So you won’t be hurting us in any way, shape, or form. And we won’t hurt you either.”

Janus’ own doubts were still raging inside him, but each word they said was adding splashes of water, slowly dousing the flames, much to his dismay. Even Remus’ attempts at humor were delighting him in ways he wasn’t used to. 

“For some reason, the universe wants us together somehow. We’re meant to be in each other’s lives. Aw gross, that sounds like something Roman would-”

“Trusting us will be a slow process, and we understand that,” Logan interrupted smoothly, “You don’t need to believe our words, because we’ll prove it to you. Alright?” 

It took a second until Janus nodded, but he did. He could hardly understand it himself.

“Can you start by telling us your name?”

“Janus.” It was a near whisper, a confession of the name he’d disliked since he was old enough to get bullied by his peers.

“The two faced Roman god of decisions, doorways, and new beginnings,” Logan spouted as if on instinct.

“Janus,” Remus repeated slowly, before a huge grin stretched across his face, “I love it.”

[mythicalsecretsanta]

12 Days of Christmas... Almost (E)

This gift is for: Cal (AKA @mythicalamity) Surprise! Keeping this secret from you for the last month wasn’t easy! Thank you for being the kindest, most loving friend I’ve ever had in this fandom and for being a pretty spectacular person in the real world as well. Merry Christmas, Cal! From your Secret Santa, @fanbabble​

Link to AO3, or read below:

The Holiday season was in full swing at Mythical, as much as it could be at least. The virus had put quite a damper on festive activities across the world and Myth Ent was no exception. There were lights strung up and a Christmas tree, but there would be no company Christmas party this year, no cookie exchange, no getting together at each other’s homes for dinner parties or gift swaps. The mood in the office was a little low and Link found himself looking for ways to encourage positivity and the good feelings of the season. That’s why when Stevie suggested a secret santa gift exchange, Link took the idea and ran with it. Employees would play secret santa leaving their secret giftee presents for the 12 days leading up to Christmas. Not only would this game bring a bit of fun into the office, but it could also be done safely as social distancing was a literal part of the rules. You couldn’t reveal your identity to your giftee until the final day of the exchange. It was perfect!

Rhett was less than excited about the prospect. He complained to Link about not wanting to participate. He was nervous he wouldn’t know what to get the person he chose or how to keep the secret. Rhett’s enneagram three-ness was getting in the way of him enjoying himself again. He was worrying too much about impressing the person he got, rather than letting himself relax and have fun with the idea. Link finally convinced his friend to participate. 

“How would it look if one of the owners of the company didn’t play along?”

“Fine. But if my gifts turn out to be duds and ruin someone’s Christmas it’s your fault!” Rhett said as he stood to join Link and walk down the hall to the Mythical kitchen for the name exchange.

Chase mixed the names of everyone in a Santa hat. The in-office folks would be in one drawing and the staff who were working virtually would draw amongst themselves. In all there were about 15 names in the hat that Chase held shut in his grasp. The group took turns reaching their hands in to pick a slip of paper with their giftees name written on it. The PAs went first, followed by the camera men, then the directors, followed by Chase, Stevie, and finally Rhett and Link. 

Rhett stuck his hand into the Santa hat. His gaze was trained on the little opening. 

“No peekin’!!” Link smacked his arm and scolded him. 

“I’m not! Besides There’s literally only one name left in the hat, Link.” 

The kitchen filled with the crew’s laughter. 

“Can’t exactly pick and choose who I want, man.”

Rhett glanced at his friend and then looked at the little slip of paper. The apples of his cheeks became more obvious as a small smile spread across his face. He grasped the paper close to his chest and then tucked it into the pocket of his jeans. 

Everyone in the kitchen celebrated the exchange with a cupcake whipped up by the Mythical Kitchen and then retreated back to their personal space to finish up the day’s work. 

Before the office door was even fully shut Link was in Rhett’s space. 

“Who’d ya get?”

“What?! I’m not telling you. It’s not fair.” Rhett sat down in his office chair and opened his laptop.

“Come on, Bo. Tell me. I got…”

“STOP” Rhett put his hands up to his ears as if to block out what Link was about to reveal. “I don’t wanna hear it. Let’s do this right. Keep it a secret.” 

“Since when do you care about keeping this kinda stuff secret? You usually can’t wait to tell me everything and anything,” Link was teetering on the fine edge between annoyed and amused.  

“Well this year is different. If this is one of the only ways the company gets to celebrate then I wanna do it right.”

“Fine,” Link huffed. He flopped down on the leather couch and draped his arm over his eyes. “You don’t want to tell me, that’s your business, but don’t come begging for gift ideas when you come up dry.” And with that healthy dose of snark the smaller man settled in for an afternoon nap. 

The next day Link walked into their office and threw his jacket over the back of the gray chair that sat by the door. He put his backpack on the floor by his desk and was just about to head to the office kitchen for a cup of coffee when he noticed a box sitting by his desk lamp. He picked it up and examined it. 

“Dang, my santa must get here early.”

It was only 7 AM and Link had just arrived to an empty building. The box was wrapped in shiny green paper and tied with an elegant red bow. He turned it over in his hands looking for some kind of tag or label. When he found nothing, Link slipped the ribbon from the package and pulled off the lid. Inside was a perfect golden pear tucked into a pillow of soft fabric. Link wasn’t sure what to do with the gift so he sniffed it to confirm it was a real piece of fruit. He lifted the pear out of the box and saw that a small note was hidden underneath. He held the pear in one hand and opened the slip of paper with the other. 

“On the first day of Christmas,

My true love gave to me,

A partridge in a pear tree”

-You may be a “sweet peach” but I think we’d make a great “pear”  Love, Your secret admirer

Link read over the note three times before he could totally comprehend what it said. He turned it over to look for any kind of identifying mark or signature. There was nothing to be found. He blushed hard and tucked the note into his pocket. It had been a long time since he had had anyone in his life, much less a Love, but he knew no one at Mythical felt that way about him and even if they did it would be totally unethical to pursue anything. Link was sure it was just some kind of joke by one of the writers and tucked the green box into his backpack before heading off to get his coffee.

When Rhett came in half an hour later, he was all nervous energy and talking 90 miles a minute. He said it was because he had almost gotten into a car accident on the way in. He had found his Secret Santa gift sitting on the back of the toilet in the bathroom and showed it to Link. 

“It’s gotta be Jordan, man,” Rhett said as he held out the bag for Link to inspect, “Who else would give me a bag of cotton candy?” 

Link peeked inside the gift bag and said, “Seems kinda obvious, but it’s possible.” He couldn’t help but let his thoughts wander back to the little green box he had received and the love note that it contained. 

“Earth to Link,” Rhett took the bag back and set it on his desk. “You alright man?”

Link shook his head to clear his mind and refocus on the man before him. “Oh yeah, sorry. Must need more coffee.” He held up his empty mug and headed toward the office door. 

As he reached for the doorknob, Rhett asked quietly, “Did you get your first gift yet?”

Link paused and laughed without looking back, “Yeah, pair of socks. Womp womp,” then he headed out the door.

Over the course of the next few days, Link continued to receive themed gifts from his Secret Santa that left him giddy and baffled at the same time. The first two were silly, Turtle and Dove chocolates for Day 2 and three fried chicken legs for Day 3. They were both accompanied by notes that talked about how much the gifter liked Link and they were both signed “Love, Your secret admirer.” Link still wasn’t sure what to make of the declarations, but he played along and let himself feel special for the moment. Even if he was still convinced it was all a joke. Until Day 4 that is. 

On Day 4 Link walked into the office late to find a small book tied up with a ribbon. “Native birds of the National Parks” The gift was incredibly thoughtful and one that he would definitely use on future adventures. A folded piece of paper was tucked inside the chapter about Denali National Park. It read,

“On the fourth day of Christmas,

My true love gave to me,

Four calling birds”

- Bird calls are beautiful, but the idea of calling you mine is even better.  Love, Your secret admirer

Link opened the book again to the page about the birds of Denali. There was only one person he had ever told about wanting to visit the park covered in glaciers and snow. Rhett. Could his secret admirer be Rhett? Link’s head swam with the possibility. 

He had been in love with his best friend for most of his life, but he had kept it hidden away out of fear of losing the one person in the world who was most important to him. Surely, Rhett was not the person who was his Secret Santa. Link felt a burst of warmth spread across his chest as he let himself entertain the idea for a moment. What would it be like to finally feel those arms around his body? To finally kiss Rhett’s lips? To own his heart as well as his friendship?

As he stood there lost in his own thoughts, the man in question came barreling into the office. Link stuffed the book into his desk drawer and turned quickly to face his friend. 

“Hey, Rhett, how’s it going?” 

Link did his best to maintain his cool. He watched his friend as he moved about the office getting settled for the day. He assessed his behavior for any clues or signs that he might be the “Secret Santa Secret Admirer.” 

“Pretty good. I added some new reps to my workout and now my abs are killing me.” Rhett rubbed his hand across his stomach. His t-shirt pulled taught and drew Link’s eye to the spot. Link felt his breath catch from the promise of what was underneath. His eyes roamed over the broad chest and thick arms. The way the shirt sleeves hugged Rhett’s biceps was criminal. Link knew he would have to control his thirst better if he hoped to get any hints about what role Rhett actually played in all of this. He cleared his throat and got a hold of himself. 

“What time did you get here this morning?” Link asked as casually as he could. He fiddled with the monitor on his computer to appear slightly uninterested in Rhett’s response. 

“What? Just now. You saw me walk in.”

“I thought maybe you came in and left again.”

Rhett turned and opened his laptop. He busied himself with things on his desk while it booted up. 

“Nope. Just rolled in.”

“Oh cool,” Link paused before adding, “How’s your secret santa going?” 

Rhett reached for a pen and knocked his coffee mug off balance spilling yesterday’s brown stuff over his desk and onto his lap.

“Shit!”

Link jumped up and grabbed the roll of paper towels he kept by his desk. He pulled off a handful and held them out to Rhett. 

“Can you clean this up for me, Buddyroll? I have to go over to wardrobe and find some different pants to wear or I’ll smell like an old coffee pot all day.” Rhett grabbed the towels and dabbed at the wet spot that stretched across his thighs. 

“Yeah, go ahead. I got this.” Link began to mop up the spilled coffee as Rhett headed out the door. His interrogation would have to wait for another day.

Days 5 and 6 were once again oddly funny gifts. If Rhett was the secret admirer it would make sense because he was the funniest person Link knew. A lifetime of laughter with Rhett had been the tradeoff for hiding the fact that he loved the man immensely. The idea that his love might be returned was more than Link had ever let himself hope for. 

The notes included with the gifts were just as tender as the previous ones. Day 5’s onion rings were accompanied by a slip that described Link as “more valuable than a golden ring” and day 6’s half dozen eggs had a note that read “You are a good egg, who makes my heart happy.”

Link enjoyed the sentiment, but nothing struck him as particularly suspicious. Day 7 was, however, a game changer.

That morning as Link walked past the dark studio a glimmer caught his eye. He set his backpack and Jade down and walked onto the GMM set where he found a string of origami paper birds strung together on a piece of gold silk ribbon. The swans were hanging across the back of the set from wall to wall. There must have been at least 50. Each bird’s wings was dipped in silver glitter and twinkled in the low light giving the set a magical air. Link stood back and took in the beauty. 

When he looked closer he saw each swan was made of sheet music. Link held one small bird in his fingers gently and examined it. He would recognize those chords anywhere. It was Merle. These paper swans were made with sheet music of Merle Haggard’s song, “Always Wanting You.”

“This has to be a gift,” Link whispered to himself. 

Link held his breath, afraid if he moved he would scare away the one idea he wanted to be true most in the world. That his secret santa was not only Rhett, but that the man was in love with him as well. 

A larger piece of paper flapped at the end of the string of birds. Link grabbed it and saw that his name was indeed on the front of the folded slip. He opened it and read:

“On the seventh day of Christmas

My true love gave to me

Seven swams a swimming”

- Like Merle said, “Always wanting you, but never having you makes it hard to face tomorrow.”   Love, Your Secret Admirer

Link couldn’t believe what he was reading. This had to be confirmation that Rhett was his secret admirer and secret santa. Jade sniffed at his shoes as if she were looking for the answer to a question he didn’t know. Link gently took the chain of birds down, gathered his things, and headed back to his office. 

When he opened the door, he was surprised to see the big man sitting at his desk already. He was speaking loudly on the phone about a new project they were working on. 

“No, damn it. I don’t want to cut that part! I purposely included it to help the flow of the story.” 

Rhett’s voice bounced off the brick walls. His tone was harsh. Link thought better of questioning him right now and tucked the birds into his backpack. He sat back on the couch and opened his laptop for the day. Jade snuggled into Link’s side and he petted her head mindlessly. His thoughts were only of Rhett. As he waited for his computer to boot up, Link watched Rhett. 

“It has to be him. Who else would use Merle?” Link thought to himself, “Oh you’re being an idiot. Everyone knows you love Merle Haggard, dummy. It could be anybody.” 

Link sunk down into the leather cushions and sulked. Not knowing for certain was exhausting. Only 5 more days to figure out this mystery. He glanced down at the paper swans one more time and smiled softly. 

Day 8 brought a bottle of chocolate milk and a note that read, “You’re the milk to my cookie” 

Link drank it in front of Rhett at lunch to see if he would get a reaction. Nothing. Well, with the exception of the way those green eyes sparkled when he belly laughed at a joke or the way Rhett put his hand on Link’s back as they left the office to head to record an episode of Ear Biscuits. Link noticed those things, but he couldn’t be sure if they were a reaction to the milk or to being close to Link in general. 

Link had caught Rhett in a lingering gaze more than once since the Seven Swans gift. And when they were alone together it felt like a spark was fizzing between the two of them. Something was going on, Link was sure of it. He just needed a little more proof before he could confront Rhett. His friendship was entirely too valuable to risk on an assumption.

On day 9, Link climbed into the driver’s seat of his car. He reached down to grab his sunglasses and was surprised to find something extra resting on the console. It was an old school cassette tape. Just like the kind he and Rhett used to exchange in high school. They would spend hours making the tapes and then driving down the back roads listening to their creations and singing at the top of their lungs. If he was honest, those times were when he first fell in love with Rhett. 

Link flipped the cassette over in his palm. On the outside of the case where the album art would usually be, was his name. Link immediately recognized it as Rhett’s handwriting. He opened the case and found a piece of paper folded in fourths tucked inside. It read:

“On the ninth day of Christmas

My true love gave to me

Nine ladies dancing.”

- I kept trying to find a funny pun for this day, but all I could focus on was singing these songs with you as we drove down the highway in North Carolina. I’ve tried to hold out to the end of the 12 days, but this secret is an old one and I don’t want to keep quiet anymore. If you feel the same, find me in the office at work and tell me. If not just toss this cassette in the trash and pretend it never happened.  Love, Your Secret Admirer 

Link was quiet for a moment and then, “Rhett! It’s Rhett! He loves me!” Link yelled at nobody in particular. Just saying the words out loud made him feel less like it was all a dream and more like it was real life. He threw his things into the passenger’s seat. In his flustered state he tried to check the time on his sunglasses and put his phone on his nose. He shifted into reverse and sped down the block. 

Link’s heart was pounding in his chest. He was breaking every speed limit on the way into Burbank, but he did not care. Let a cop try and stop him now, nothing could keep him from getting to Rhett. Link pulled into the parking lot in record time and he bolted out of his car and through the studio doors. He was running at full speed back to the office he shared with Rhett. His Rhett. Link took a deep breath and pushed the door open. 

The office was empty. Where was he? Link knew he didn’t pass him on the way through the building. He stood still for a moment and wrung his hands trying to think of what to do next. Just when he was starting to worry that Rhett had panicked and ran, he heard footsteps coming down the stairs of their loft. 

Link watched as Rhett appeared slowly, first feet, then legs, torso, and finally that glorious head of hair. 

“Link…” 

Rhett barely got the word out before the smaller man was launching himself across the office and into his arms. He melted into the embrace and pulled Link tighter against him. They took just a moment to look into each other’s eyes before their lips met. The kiss was strong and full of promise. Link opened his mouth to deepen the kiss and the passion kicked in. Rhett lifted Link up with his hands under the smaller man’s thighs and carried him to the couch. 

They pressed heated kisses into skin and hair. Marking their love on the other’s body wherever they could find purchase. Hands roamed pulling hair and grabbing biceps. And when Rhett laid Link down on their couch and pressed his body to the cradle of Link’s hips there was no denying that both men were hard with desire already. 

Link gasped with the sensation of being so close to Rhett. The feeling of his hard cock pressed against Rhett’s made his head swim and he pulled back to catch a breath. Rhett took the opportunity to say something he’d been holding in for decades.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” 

Each declaration was punctuated with a kiss. Link’s collar bones, his neck, his temple.

Link pulled Rhett close and whispered into his ear, “I’ve loved you my whole life.”

It was all the permission Rhett needed. He worshiped Link’s body and rocked against him until they were both finishing in their jeans like teenagers. Sticky and satisfied the pair laid together on the couch exchanging lazy kisses and gentle touches. Trying to make up for all the lost time they denied themselves. 

Link was half asleep and half in awe of the way Rhett looked. He laid silently and listened to Rhett as he said, “I can’t believe it worked. I thought for sure you’d throw the cassette away.” 

Link ran his fingers through Rhett’s curls gently. 

“You doubted me? Haven’t you figured it out yet, Bo? All you have to do is be the brave one and I’ll follow your lead.” He placed a kiss on Rhett’s tshirt right about his heart. “Thanks for being the brave one.” Rhett kissed the top of Link’s head and grunted in affirmation.

Link snuggled into Rhett’s chest and closed his eyes. Just as he was about to doze off the smaller man popped up and looked Rhett in the eye. 

“Don’t think just because you love me, you’re getting out of giving me gifts. I have three days left and I want my secret presents.” Link flashed his crooked grin and poked at Rhett’s side. 

Rhett let out a booming ho-ho-ho laugh before pulling Link back down against his chest.

“You can have anything you want, Link. Diamonds, rubies. I don’t need any presents though because I’ve already got the most valuable gift of the season… you.”

[sunshinesukuna]

friend activity

pairing: midorima shintarou x reader

wc: 1.2k 

genre: flangst

insp: 12:45 (Stripped) — Etham

summary: he’s always looking out for you in the most unexpected ways, even when he won’t admit it himself.

an: tb to that one time i was listening to some music on spotify and i... accidentally?? (🤡🤡🤡) saw my friend listening to a playlist her ex made??? lo and behold they walked into class the next day holding hands??? even tho my friends told her like a thousand times that he was toxic af? 🤡🤡🤡🤡 

Midorima opens the familiar green app on his phone and puts his earbuds in. His lucky item of the day. Debussy and Chopin have always done great jobs when he was anxious. The piano’s sweet melody fills his ears as he leans back in his chair. He takes a long breath. Another. Midorima scratches his head. 

The yellow light above is reflected on the frame of the photo that he took last Christmas. It was near the huge Christmas tree in the middle of town that you had begged him to see all December.

The same place where the two of you had just had your first big argument. In public, nonetheless.

He takes off his earbuds. The sheer force of his nails scratches his earlobes a little. Midorima runs his hands over his face, his glasses pushed up to rest atop his leaf green hair. No matter how many times he tries to console himself, the image of your tear-streaked face refuses to leave his mind. 

The thrumming of the rain outside does little to extinguish the dread in his gut. It only amplifies as he opens his phone, a picture of you in the rain as his wallpaper. 

"Cancers need to have a photo of their loved ones in the rain, nanodayo!" he had argued. Anyone that had tuned into Oha Asa that morning would have known that Cancers would have needed golden buttons instead. But you let Midorima have the benefit of the doubt.

Midorima has never been a man of apologies. All the problems around him would seem to just work themselves out without any interference. The last time he verbally, directly, apologized would be in second grade. Would this be another one? His foot shakes from where it hangs on his thigh. It is rhythmic, unlike his brain patterns as he tries to figure out how to jump this hurdle.

Music floods back into his ears again as he opens Spotify, this time on his laptop. The cursor lingers between “Claire de Lune” and “Air on the G String”. But his eyes have found something more interesting.

There is only one person under his “Friend Activity.” The same profile picture you use for Instagram and other social media platforms smiles up at him from the screen. The audio symbol next to your profile shows that you’re listening to music too. 

“dried teardrops 🌚” is the name of the playlist you’re playing right now. A playlist, he remembers you telling him, you only turn on when you feel the absolute worst. 

Midorima scrambles to his phone that is charging on his nightstand. He almost trips over the soft carpet as he curses himself in his mind. Carefully bandaged fingers skid along the phone's surface.

Are you ok? 

Midorima throws his phone on the bed. You’re online. Typing comes up briefly on the screen before it dissipates and is replaced by a smaller grey seen. The green bubble next to your profile disappears, signalling your inactivity.

He puts his hands on his hips and runs his fingers through his hair. It's only 9 o'clock. If he runs to your house now, you would probably just be getting ready for bed.

Had the two of you been getting along just fine, maybe you'd finish the day off with a facetime of him doing paperwork in silence, only broken when you switch apps to go back to TikTok. He would catch a brief glimpse of you laughing, and the world would turn as normal. Ok, maybe he does miss you. But only a little bit.

You haven't stopped listening to the music. The only thing that's changed is the song you're listening to. You stay on the same playlist. 

Midorima glances at the clock, then back at the profile on his laptop. With a sigh, he laces up his shoes and heads out the door. 

There's a small park near your house that's empty at this time of the night. The children at play are tucked happily in their beds. As you should be. The orange varsity jacket clad figure on the swing tells him otherwise. His varsity jacket, he notes.

The sand crunches under the footsteps behind you. The tinkle of the chains on the swing betrays your attempt to be as quiet as possible. No sudden movements, you tell yourself. Your keys are in your hand, the claw ready to deploy. You stand up a little from your seat on the swing, waiting for your moment to take off. Your other hand tugs the jacket closer to your form. 

“I’m not going to kill you, nanodayo,” a familiar voice chides. The hand holding the keys refuses to go back into your pocket. His green hair is invisible in the dark, but you would recognize his baritone from anywhere. You hastily wipe away the snot on your nose.

"How did you know I was here?" you ask. Midorima takes a step forward. He gulps, rather audibly.

"There's only one place you go to when you cry," he says. You sit back down in the swing. He moves to sit on the swing, miniscule against his hulking 6 feet and 5 inches, but he makes do. 

Your hand grips the chain holding the swing up. Midorima sighs before extending an arm. Soft bandaged fingers brush the tips of your knuckles on the chain. Before you know it, his warm chest is right in front of you, a knit grey sweater you gave him on his birthday a few months ago now becoming a makeshift handkerchief. 

He makes no movement to push you away. How could he? After pushing you on the ropes even though you were just looking out for him? The only thing left to do, Midorima concludes, is to hold you tighter. 

And so he does. Arms hardened by years of chucking basketballs in the air now gently caress your smaller ones. Eye bags under green pupils that check you up and down, making sure you're okay. Brittle fingers trained to perfection by four years of surgical residency now wipe the tears off your face as he somehow, someway, tries to make things right again. 

When you've run out of tears and stopped hyperventilating, you scoot a  little farther from Midorima. At arm's length, you can finally see him in all his late-night glory. 

"I never told you I was crying, Shintarou," you manage, each word punctuated with a soft sniffle. You burrow closer into his tall frame and hide your face away from the world's scrutinizing eyes.

"You were listening to your crying playlist, dummy," he says. It's good that you're not looking straight into his eyes, lest you see the pink hue on his cheeks. Maybe he even pulls you closer to him to hide it even more. You giggle at your boyfriend's unexpected attentiveness. 

Midorima pulls you away from him. You whimper a bit at the loss of warmth, but are instantly placated at him tugging your jacket tighter around you. A long arm finds its home around your waist. "Now come on. We have outpatients to see tomorrow. Can't have a drowsy doctor at work, nanodayo."

He never really says the words "I'm sorry" or something along the lines, but the basket labelled This week's lucky items for you in his doctor's handwriting on your desk the next morning does most of the talking for him, anyways. 

a/n: do y'all like the header 🌚🌚

sometimes you can choose not to be a dick

[byunsboyz]

Jamais Vu - Part Three

Baekhyun x Female Reader

Warnings: none?

Genre: Fluff

W/C: 2472

Part One Part Two

__________________________________________________________

You sit on hold impatiently waiting to be connected to the inter-company help desk. 

One minute you’re uploading an important journal to your client’s software, the next minute you get the blue screen of death.

“Shit shit shit” you mutter as you try to get your laptop to turn back on. You hear Kyungsoo sigh from across the room. 

“You saved before you uploaded right?”.

He looks up from his screen when you don’t reply, a glint of concern behind his glasses. 

“Right?”

You screw your eyes shut tightly and continue to ramble, “shit Shit SHIT”.

“Oh no,” Kyungsoo breathes. 

The irritating hold music finally cuts and a familiar voice sighs down the other end.

“...again?”

“I keep you busy don’t I?” you wince, as the low voice grumbles something indistinguishable.

“What did you do this time?” 

“I don’t even know Yixing, I was trying to upload this client journal and then the whole thing just broke!”

Zhang Yixing, a member of your company’s IT support department and a colleague you knew very well much to his dismay.

You were unfortunately infamous for breaking something IT-related every other week.

“How big was the file?” he starts, the sound of his keyboard tapping faintly through the line.

“I don’t know, like 3000 lines last time I checked”. 

In the corner of your eye, Kyungsoo stands up and raises his coffee mug while gesturing to yours. 

You nod gratefully and he picks up your mug on his way out. 

“Hmm, it might be a server crash. I heard they’ve had WiFi issues on and off this week”. 

“So it wasn’t my fault?” you ask, suddenly perking up.  

“For once,” Yixing deadpans, “Did you save the last version before upload?”

“....no.” you sigh, “I was in such a rush to get it done I forgot. Ugh-I’m such an idiot!” You slump down in your chair feeling depressed.

“It’s fine, It’s fine” the IT tech soothes, his voice always somewhat reassuring. 

“I’ve had your cloud drive set to take a backup every hour since that time you accidentally deleted your hard drive.”

“Yixing I owe you my life!” 

He just chuckles down the line.

“Try restarting your laptop, I’ll hop on remotely and restore what I can”. You nod gratefully, even if he can’t see you. 

It’s late in the evening when you finally leave the office. 

Yixing restores what he can but you still have some gaps to fill, so between that and the continued server crashes you finally give up and leave two hours past quitting time.

“You didn’t have to stay Yixing, but I still really appreciate it” you thank him gratefully. 

“It was mostly for the safety of our IT systems”, he yawns, scratching the back of his head as you walk side by side out of the building together.

“I didn’t have any issues until I worked here,” you huff as you swipe your ID card and exit the building. “My computer at home works just fine!”.

“Yeah yeah yeah” mocks Yixing with a dimpled smirk. You wave goodbye in defeat and walk towards the subway station. 

Much to your surprise, you see Baekhyun when you step onto the train.

Sitting towards the middle of the carriage, his tie loosened and hair dishevelled as he sits forward scrolling through his phone. 

He sighs about three times as you make your way towards him, plopping down in the seat next to him.

“Rough day?” you ask, nudging his shoulder gently with your own. 

He looks up disinterestedly at first, but then his usual warmth returns to his eyes and he smiles softly, dark circles present under his eyes. 

“That obvious huh? And you?”

You sigh “Computer issues and stressing out the IT department”.

 Baekyhun snorts, “Computers were never your strong point.”

You scoff, sitting up in your seat to cross your arms over your chest, “What does that mean!”.

“Um, what about those times you pressed the wrong button at the radio station!?”.

Memories of Baekhyun talking in a chipmunk voice flashes through your head, or the time he thought he was talking live on the radio for twenty minutes before you realised you hadn’t paused the commercial recordings, you snort.

“Can’t say I recall…” He looks up at you with accusing eyes, “Uhhh have you eaten yet?” you ask, looking to change the subject as your own stomach aches with hunger. 

He shakes his head in response. 

“I know a great burger place?” you offer, “and they serve alcohol”. 

He hums in satisfaction. “You had me at burgers”.  

“Great let’s get off at the next stop”.

It’s been a few weeks since Baekhyun came back into your life and things are slowly becoming more comfortable.

Things really eased one morning when you discovered Baekhyun had been walking to the wrong subway station. 

“Do you get a ride to work?” you’d asked nonchalantly as you both walked out of the building one morning.

“Huh-no the subway,” he shrugged, starting to turn off in the opposite direction.

“Wait!” you’d called out. “I thought you said you worked in the same part of the city as me?”

He turned to face you, his head tilted to the side, lines forming between his brows as he looked back at you. “What, yeah. Why?”.

“You’re walking to the station after ours…” you realise he’s making the same mistake you made when you first moved to the city.

Without thinking you step forward and link your arm in his, steering him in the right direction. 

“Come on Mr Byun”.

Turn out he thought you were the one getting a ride to work

You started walking to the subway together every morning after that day. Baekhyun cut ten minutes off his journey time thanks to you, but you never usually saw him on the ride home. 

Baekhyun’s office was situated farther in the city than yours so you’d get off a couple of stops before him. 

“Come on, let’s go eat, “ you yawn, standing up from your seat as the carriage halts at your stop. 

You walk to the restaurant together quietly, the street lights flickering on above you as the night seeps into the evening. 

“Table for two?” a cute waitress chirps when you enter the restaurant.

“Please” You both follow her over to an empty table. 

You take your seats and she pulls out her order pad, “Can I start you off with anything to drink?”.

“Can I get two beers please?” Baekhyun asks politely, the waitress failing to hide the way her eyes almost bulge out of her head when she looks at Baekhyun properly. 

“I’ll be right back to take your order” she sing-songs as she steps away.

“Rude, she didn’t even ask what you wanted to drink” he grins, looking up cheekily from the menu. 

You scoff and swat him with yours. 

“Menus are for reading not hitting” he whines, jutting out his bottom lip to feign upset. 

“I already know what I'm getting, this is one of my favourite places!” you declare, looking around at the bright American diner themed decor. 

Admiring the cute neon milkshake sign and wondering if you could buy one for your apartment. 

“Should I get Onion Rings or Bacon Cheese Fries” Baekhyun ponders out loud.

 As if your body heard him, your stomach growls audibly. “He says both” you laugh, pointing to your stomach. 

The waitress takes your order and after what seems like an eternity your food finally arrives. 

You stare down at the beauty in front of you. The golden crisp of the grilled cheese bread, the way the cheddar and monterrey jack oozes teasingly out of the sides. The smell of the freshly made fries as the salt grains twinkle under the lights of the restaurant.

“I think I'm in love...” you gasp, gazing down at the piece of art on your plate.

Your mouth salivates as you bring the first half of the sandwich towards your mouth and take your first bite.

Tears spring to your eyes as you groan in happiness.

“Shall I give you and the sandwich a moment” Baekhyun teases, snapping you out of your trance.

“Don’t ruin my happy place” you sigh contentedly, as you swallow the first delicious bite. You steal one of his onion rings and shove it into your mouth whole. 

He shakes his head at you as he lifts his burger to his mouth. 

“Might want to take the cucumbers out, it’ll ruin your experience”, you say absentmindedly as you take a long swig from your beer, gesturing towards the burger.

He puts the burger down and lifts up the bun, his eyes widening in surprise, “You remembered that?”.

The realisation hits you and you feel your face heating up, “Uh-yeah, well...of course” you stumble over your words, unsure of what to say. 

Baekhyun doesn’t take notice, removing the cucumbers from his burger with disgust and taking a huge bite.

“Wow, you weren’t wrong” he groans, his mouth still full. 

You raise your hand to the waitress to order two more beers as you both sit in comfortable silence enjoying your meals.

“Wow, you weren’t wrong about this place” Baekhyun swoons, patting his stomach in satisfaction when you both finish eating.

“Stick a fork in me, I’m done”. You sigh, causing Baekhyun to chuckle. 

“Thanks for inviting me” he starts, playing with the label on the beer bottle. “This has really cheered me up.”

“No problem” you smile back at him. 

He hums thoughtfully “I’m really grateful you know, to be able to sit together like this after all this time.” 

You drain the dregs of your beer and nod, you know from experience that he gets sentimental after a couple drinks. 

“Me too, shall we pay up?”

You call out to the waitress and bring the bill, despite arguing back and forth Baekhyun is adamant he’s paying and thrusts his card at the poor waitress, who is just standing there waiting for you to finish bickering.

“You guys are so cute” she giggles as she processes the transaction on the card machine. 

You start to shake your head to deny whatever she’s insinuating but Baekhyun throws his arm around your shoulder and drags you out of the restaurant. 

“Should we get a cab, it's pretty late?” He looks down at his watch as you walk down the street towards the subway station. It’s a little after 9 pm.

The night sky black with few stars twinkling sparsely against the city fog that seems to shield them from sight. Baekhyun still has his arm around your shoulder and you feel more and more self-conscious about his touch. 

You unwrap yourself out of his hold and stuff your hands in your coat pocket. “You’re always so clingy when you’re tipsy”.

“I didn’t want you to feel cold” Baekhyun replies absentmindedly, you bite your lip instantly feeling guilty.

He really is clueless. 

He stops suddenly and looks behind him, waving a cab over just before it passes you by. 

“Come on, jump in”. 

You both hop in the cab and Baekhyun gives the driver the address, as the taxi pulls off you opt to stare out of the window for the remainder of the journey, to refrain yourself from saying anything stupid.

When the cab pulls up you lean over and hand the driver payment, ignoring Baekhyun’s protests as you step out of the vehicle.

“You bought dinner, this is the least I can do” you shrug as you walk towards your building. 

“You’re so stubborn!” he huffs, jogging up behind you so that you’re walking side by side again. 

“Speak for yourself” you retaliate. 

 You feel yourself grinning as you continue to banter back and forth in the elevator until you arrive at your front door.

“Goodnight hyunnie” you grin. Leaning back against your door as you watch Baekhyun unlocking his own. 

He pauses at the sudden nickname. The name you used to call him all the time back in college, it was strange how easily it rolled off your tongue.

“Night sunflower” 

The nickname he called you over ten years ago. 

Smiling fondly back at you as you step back into your apartment, trying to still the way your heart flips at his words.

The next evening you’re at a karaoke bar with Key and Aria, it’s Friday evening so you don’t hold back from the cocktails that Key keeps reordering.

You fill them in on your evening with Baekhyun.

“That’s practically a date!” screams Key, shaking you by the shoulders. “He paid for your meal, escorted you home AND walked you to your door!”.

“They live together you dumb dumb” Aria sighs, flipping through the song lists with the karaoke remote. “But I mean it does sound like you both got closer?”.

You laugh nervously, throwing back your cocktail to calm your sudden nerves. “I mean it was nice, it felt like the old days but I also can’t help but feel cautious”. 

You run your fingers through your hair as you feel everything suddenly bubbling over and you start ranting.

“At the end of the day he stopped talking to me, I probably didn’t try that hard but why put in energy that’s not reciprocated, am I just convenient?”

You sigh “I realise now that he’s just himself, too friendly and doesn’t realise it. I was misleading myself”. 

Key wraps his arm around you,“You...my beautiful, intelligent, way too sober friend, need more cocktails!”. 

“She needs a date!” shouts Aria excitedly. “Remember that thing we were talking about?”. 

You look between your friends suspiciously. “What thing?” 

“Speed dating, there’s an event next weekend. You should go!”.

Key is sticking his head out of the door to order more drinks but he turns back into the room and points at Aria.

“You’re also going A”. 

Aria chokes on her soda, “ME!?”.

“Yes, you!!” Key shoots back, “when was the last time you had a date?”.

You don’t see your friend speechless often but in this situation Key has her stumped. 

“I never even agreed to this!” you defend, “Why do I need to go?”.

“Well why not” Aria turns the conversation back to you. “Is it because you're secretly hoping something will happen between you and Baekhyun?”.

“No!” you shout. 

Key gasps. “You still like him!” he points his finger at you accusingly. 

“No, I don’t” you whine, taking an extra-long slurp of your mojito. 

“Prove it!” Aria and Key shout back in unison. 

“Fine! If it shuts you both up! But Aria is coming or I’m out” you huff, selecting the next karaoke song and grabbing the mic angrily.

“He got, me, go-ing crazzzyyyyyyyyyyy” you shout out the lyrics. Venting out all your evening's frustration.

Your friends grin like hyena’s in the mirror behind you. 

What have you got yourself into.

Bonus Scene (in collaboration with @xingslove​ ) :

Aria practically herds you and Key out of the karaoke bar. 

“I feel bad leaving that last cocktail there. It must be so lonely” Key whines, looking back towards the bar longingly.

Aria dragged you away before you could finish off the last of your drinks, declaring you’d both had enough. 

There’s a long walk to the cabs at the far end of the street. Key dragging his feet on Aria’s right as she pulls you along from the left. 

“For someone so short you have the strength of a bull” groans Key, trying to wrestle himself out of Aria’s vice grip. “You could have at least let me finish my cocktail!”.

“Key, I am not your date from last week” Aria mutters under her breath, “I will not let you get into the same state that results in you throwing up on us!”. 

Key winces slightly at Aria’s words. You recount that night, Key stumbling through the door of Aria’s apartment covered in vomit.

You had been there watching a movie and had to help take care of your upset and incredibly drunk friend.

“Yeah, you disgrace!” You point at him mockingly.

“He challenged me! What was I supposed to do!” he shoots back at you. 

Maybe it’s the cocktails, but you start laughing like a hyena as your friends argue back and forth.

“Don’t think I forgot about you!” Aria retorts, rounding to face you. “Miss ‘throws up in the toilet after way too many shots’”.

“Wait, which time? That happens a lot?” Key asks, finally breaking free from Aria and starts to pirouette back towards the bar. 

“Hey!” you shout, but any words of defence are lost on you as the street starts to spin with Key. 

You brace yourself against the wall for a quick rest.

“Oh you know, that time I held her hair back as she threw up...” Aria starts to recount, letting you go to herd Key back in the right direction. 

“We left her to go get some fresh clothes since she pulled a you!” She pokes Key in the chest as she grabs his shirt collar and redirects him back towards you. 

“And we came back to find her taking a nice nap against the toilet seat”.

“Was that when she slipped off as soon as we walked in? You thought she had lowkey knocked herself out”.

Key grabs the lampost nearby to brace himself as he bursts into laughter.

“Oi” you slur, pointing at your friend only to trip over nothing. 

“You can’t judge ussssss”. You hiccup, clutching back onto Aria’s arm to steady yourself. “You don’t even drink!” 

“Yeah!” joins in Key, swinging around the pole like he’s dancing in the club, “isn’t it harsh to laugh at your friends' misfortunes!”.

“Just get in the cab!” huffs Aria, finally shoving you both into a waiting taxi.

________________________________________________________

Tag List: @xingslove​ @shesdreaminginoverdose​ @bbyunz​ @sehunsthetics​

inbox me if you want to be added? 

[werezmastarbucks]

Whitmore Guy - the ghost

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Kai Parker x fem!Reader slowburn

whatever gifs I’m going to use on this one, I hope the creators are okay with that

word count: 2044

warnings: none

“Have you seen the new IT guy yet?”

“The uh- what?” Ric was trying to consume a chocolate bar without taking his eyes or hands off the paper he was grading. Y/N sighed patiently – or, rather, to gain some patience. Every time she felt like yelling at Saltzman she took a deep breath and travelled down the memory lane back to the times when he was just a history teacher at school. Back when they were all teens with awkwardly round faces and acne, trying really hard to impress each other, and survive ‘animal attacks’ that just started happening in the town. She recalled thinking the new teacher was actually a vampire. The sheer stupidity of her, while Stefan Salvatore was literally sitting next to her.

Back then, Ric was still youthful, energetic, even handsome, as some girls claimed. Y/N always perceived him as a parent figure, the uncle you may bump into in a bar you go to with your mates to pretend you’re old enough. To think that this grumpy, scruffy grandpa thirty-hundred years old used to be that energetic, bopping teacher they could all trust…

“I’m saying, have-you-met-Mal-yet?”

“Huh?” Ric looked up to her, and his hand inserted the bar into his mouth quickly, so that he could start chewing.

“Are you doing okay, mister Saltzman?”

Y/N called him that when she was trying to be ironic.

“We got a new IT guy? Where the hell is he? I’ve been struggling with this thing for ages”, Alaric pointed at his laptop, safely shut, after it had vomited a siren-like crackling earlier that morning. God only knows what kind of websites Ric has been visiting.

“He’s been in for like, couple of days”.

“Yeah, that’s when the password changed, I saw that”, Saltzman frowned, “that note on the first floor, on the notice board, said that there was a treasure map or crap like this. The whole place has been running on mobile since Monday. Is he toying with us? Who hired him?”

“It’s ‘revenant94’.

“What?”

“The password”.

Y/N settled her coffee mug on the desk and stretched her back, checking the room for people simultaneously. They were alone in the teacher’s space; Y/N liked sneaking in here for lunch breaks or when she just felt overwhelmed, to socialize, bizarrely.

“Anyway, I’ve met him the other day. And he’s weird”.

There it is. The magical spot to hit, to light that hunting spark in Alaric Saltzman’s light green eyes. He has always been an adventurer first and everything else second. Vampire hunting was just a necessary measure in the dire conditions given to him at the point of his life.

“Bad-weird?”

“Weird-weird”, she still wasn’t sure they were completely safe chatting about this in here. She got up and closed the door gently. Then Y/N started pacing lazily between the unevenly placed desks, standing checkers to chess, in a mysterious pattern.

“He looks too good, and he acts too friendly. He is…” she tried to find the word, it was on the tip of her tongue, and yet, it escaped.

“Weird”.

“Your notoriously inaccurate gut feeling once placed an innocent man among monsters”, Ric reminded her.

She recalled that. That one time she was completely sure her neighbor Bruce killed her father, for reasons she wouldn’t be able to awaken anymore. In reality, they still didn’t know who did it, but it wasn’t Bruce as the man was away from the town the night it happened.

“Don ‘t you allow that maybe you think he’s weird because he’s cute? Sometimes you say weird when you mean adorable. Or angry. Or upset. You just generally like labeling people freaks”.

“Okay, you’re not taking it seriously”.

Ric threw himself back in the chair and sighed noisily. He studied the ceiling for some time.

“In our life, Y/N, we have every right to be paranoid about good things. After everything that’s happened every nice thing comes across as a warning. That’s a normal reaction. But if you think he’s off, I’ll check on him, sure. I mean, I will meet him inevitably, right?”

They looked at each other. Y/N shrugged.

 ______________________________________________________________

Ric wasn’t able to get ahold of Mal for the whole of next week, in fact, and it was strange how for the first seven days of Mal’s working Y/N was the only person who’s been talking to him. The guy even complained once that he felt like a ghost, which sparkled the whole new package of fiery theories in her. Then, the next day, she saw Mal chat with the English major student. In a rather flirtatious way, mind you; but it at least proved he was real.

Alaric was left a little puzzled after Mal had fixed his barely breathing laptop; but mostly annoyed.

‘How fast is this guy talking? Does he ever breathe or something?’

To her question, whether he was able to place Mal among any species of supernatural creatures, Saltzman replied something along the lines of yeah, a sickeningly energetic young man with ego, which in his language usually meant abnormal, but not alarming. Y/N was more than sure that Ric gave up on life and just tried to get away from the IT guy as far as possible. What happened to the previous one anyway? Some people said he’d left. Others claimed he just disappeared after Friday’s party at the Craze, a new bar opened almost on the border with Mystic Falls. Nobody really cared. Mal managed to charm just about everybody – that is, when people finally started seeing him – except a few very exhausted individuals who refused to enjoy life.

The feeling Y/N was getting about Mal was inexplicable, good, too good, in fact. She was torn between enthusiastic and careful; one feels that way when a person calls you in the middle of the night and tells you that you have won a billion dollars. How come you don’t remember buying the lottery ticket?

The fact that he had a girlfriend wasn’t all that important – Y/N craved companionship, not romance; her friends were enough but they were all carrying weight of, well, ten years of fighting this damn town. Mal didn’t have all that. He blasted music in the basement where he had built himself a mancave using old boxes and discarded cupboards from the science floors. He always smiled. He was smart. He didn’t take any shit from anybody. And for some uneven reason, he treated Y/N like she was his partner in crime. Maybe that was the most suspicious thing. Y/N always wanted an older brother, and all male figures she chose to act in that character, pushed back.

 _____________________________________________________________

Damon weighed the glass in his hand lazily.

“Caroline’s been livid with you about the dance party?”

Y/N sighed, rubbing her knee. Ever since Caroline graduated, she’s been delegating her tasks to Y/N, who apparently had nothing better to do than organize two celebrations every month. No wonder she completely forgot about the selection of music for that one party that was supposed to happen at the end of the month, vaguely described as a nostalgia flick. Many times Y/N got ready to say, hey, Caroline. I have my own shit to do. If you want these events, come back to the college, get a job and do it yourself. I have tons of crying young adults every day whimpering over their dead dogs and burnt deadlines, and frankly, I deserve four holidays a year.

But she never said it, somehow.

“I am turning into a pusharound”, she realized, as she stood up, walking to the Damon’s sacred alcohol table. She took a glass which burst in a welcoming ringing, and poured herself a little of smelly golden liquid.

“I thought you liked organizing things. Whatever happened to ‘I’ll make them all dance to Stevie Nicks until their butts fall off?”

“It faded, Damon, it went down into my shit storm of a work. I am drained. I’ve been feeling completely lost for the last six months”.

The vampire’s sharp eyebrows made a gracious swing. Every time Damon did his trademark face of an Italian statue Y/N couldn’t help but remember the years when she’d been helplessly in love with him. She and her knee-length socks, and lots of jewellery, and bravery of a suicidal teenager, she thought that was enough to win his love. The disappointment was bitter.

“Why’s that?”

“Eh”, she brushed it off, relaxing deep in the sofa, outstretching her feet, “autumn was nasty, you know that kind of seasonal decline, and then, no snow in winter, and bang, it’s cold spring, and you gotta not eat again because nervous… and it felt like it’s been two days since Matt died, but when I look at the clock, it’s already mid May, and I can’t believe it. I feel like I haven’t processed his death properly, and it’s tugging on me. But I don’t really know what to do at this point. Everybody’s moved on”.

Damon drowned his face into his glass with that preoccupied look he wore when he couldn’t cope with what he started. Sometimes, he could only listen. That was the least he could do for the girl. Listen to her babbling away, and remember that it could have been much worse, she could have been much further away from him.

“Thank God I have my buddy now and I even almost figured out what to do with this shit faced party. No more parties after this one… I’ll tell her I won’t organize stuff people don’t appreciate, I mean…”

“What buddy?” Damon intervened passively.

Y/N jumped up, balancing the glass in her hand, and decided it would be best to down it until she poured it all on Damon’s couch, and he tore all her hair out. She gulped whiskey in two breaths, trying to clench her teeth so that she doesn’t puke it all back. As soon as the drink flows down and reaches whatever cells there are, it will soothe her, and clear her head. She sat on her legs, piercing Damon with a concerned look.

“There’s this new IT guy at Whitmore. He’s too cool to be true, and everybody loves him, except for Ric, and I’m sure you’ll absolutely hate him, too”.

“Why’s that?”

“He’s very chatty and charming, like a complete psychopath. He’s got dead eyes but he’s incredibly funny, and we listen to the same music. He’s always up for anything. He’s too…”

The look on Salvatore’s face said he understood exactly the type of person this guy was. Damon met many a folk like that; take Kol, that idiotic creature that was draining life of every party of people. Or early version of Jeremy, depressed yet too loud, craving attention. Or even Forbes herself; now she’s a friend, but back in the times, she was unbearable. Damon still had vague nightmares in which Caroline was trying to get him to go on a picnic in her usual commanding squeaky voice.

“So, steer his energy in doing this dance for you. And go easy on yourself, little one”.

When Damon called her that, Y/N felt like she was sixteen again, laying at the den of a tiger, if tigers dug caves or, like, very complicated dungeons, with skulls of their enemies scattered and the suggestive fires blazing along the walls. She shivered internally, asking herself, how she had managed to finally escape Damon’s glamor. She remembered being completely heartbroken, and then suddenly, she wasn’t. Good for her.

“Yeah, I’ll get him to help me. But I would be stoked if you could examine him. Ric couldn’t take him, the guy’s too colorful. I have a weird feeling about him”.

“What kind?”

She was tired of shrugging with confusion.

“Just do it. You’ll see. There’s something wrong about him”.

“Do you always hang out with people you deem suspicious?” Damon sounded painfully familiar. Ric and him, they became almost like a married couple over the years. Same old narrative, sung in slightly different tempos.

“Okay”, he gave up. “I’ll come to your nostalgia flick dance thing, and I’ll take a look at him. Will that make you happy?”

She looked at the alcohol sanctuary again.

[xandertheundead]

Stanlon being cute in the library?

Mike let his fingers trail along the stiff spines of the old leather bound books in the history section as he made his rounds through the aisles in the downstairs section of the library. He pushed in a few of the stray chairs as the study tables, watching as Don Hagarty and Adrian Mellon quickly packed their books and laptops into their bags to head out for the night.

“Sorry, Mr. Hanlon,” Adrian sighed, giving Mike an apologetic smile. “Thanks for letting us stay a little past closing so we could get this project done.”

Mike slipped his hands into his cardigans pockets, the keys and his security card clinking together softly. “It’s no trouble. I remember senior year being brutal and I know you two are actually working.”

Don’s cheeks colored brightly and Adrian’s small smile became a wide grin.

“Yep! That’s us.” Adrian nodded, elbowing his boyfriend in the side. “Just working.”

“Adrian!” Don hissed under his breath, grabbing the smaller boy by the arm and started to tug him toward the entrance. He turned back to give a wave to Mike. “Thanks again, Mr. Hanlon! We’ll see you later!”

Both boys moved quickly after that, through the automatic glass doors and out into the night. Mike chuckled as he moved over to the doors, keying in his code so that they stayed closed and locked until Mr. Brench came in the morning. He went through his closing routine, making sure everything was in order for the next day of knowledge seeking, before he made his way up the long staircase.

The upstairs part of the library was where they kept the young adult section and the study rooms where their last occupant was located. Mike grinned as he turned the corner and saw through the thick glass that curly head of hair bowed down with their nose buried in a thick book. Mike moved quietly, pushing the silent glass door open before knocking and watched as Stan jumped slightly before turning around to glare at him.

His round framed glasses slipping down in his nose in the most adorable way.

“Excuse me, Professor Uris.” Mike started, a small smile on his face. “It’s twenty minutes past closing time.”

Stan blinked owlishly before reaching back to grab his phone and check the time, his silver wedding band glinting in the light. “Shit, it really is. Damn it, I thought I’d get out of here in enough time to start dinner.”

Mike watched as the man’s shoulders sagged a little and shook his head a little.

“Pick something up?”

Stan frowned at him again, but there was no heat in it this time. “That is eating out.”

“Ever hear of a cheat day?” Mike replied easily as he moved to start picking up the books that were in the professor’s pile. “Do you want to check any of these out?”

“Oh,” Stan moved quickly, ready to always help Mike with things. “Yeah, a few, but let me help you put those back.”

Mike shook his head and laughed, raising the book Stan was reaching for above both of their heads. “You know the drill. Only librarians can put the books away, but you can help me carry them to where I need to take them if you want.”

He gave a wink. “I like having big strong men help me out.”

Stan let out a sharp laugh, taking a few of the books Mike was holding. “Your arms are the size of my head.”

Mike rolled his eyes as he watched Stan grab his messenger bag before following him out of the study room. “Details details. Alright, what’s the label on your first book say?”

Stan read it out loud and Mike guided them towards the accounting section which he bet most of of Stan’s books were going to come from. Stan Uris was one of NYU’s finest accounting professors, up for tenure and in the middle of finals, but he still insisted on having time to help Mike close up the library almost every time Mike had the night shift. He listened as Stan complained about some of the kids in his class, not understanding why they couldn’t do basic accounting in his higher up classes and Mike smiled when he saw Stan yawn as he was checking out his books for him.

“You should go home and get some rest.”

Stan rubbed his eyes before frowning at Mike. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“I think the ring on my finger says I can at least a little.” Mike replied raising his hand to show an identical golden ring to Stan’s silver one. “And I think my worn out husband needs to eat, shower and go to sleep before his eight am class in the morning.”

Stan was quiet for a minute and Mike could tell he was pouting. “But I haven’t seen you in two days...I wanted to at least eat with you.”

Mike’s heart melted at that and he trashed across the check out desk to run his fingers over Stan’s smooth cheek. “I’ll close up, you go get our favorite from Yen Ching’s and I’ll meet you at home. Okay?”

The smile he received was beautiful and Stan nodded quickly, taking the books Mike handed him before making a beeline for the door. “Don’t keep me waiting!”

“I’d never.”

Send me some prompts!

Taglist: @tinyarmedtrex @oldguybones @constantreaderfool @queen-sock @stylesmelon @inthebreadbinwrites @appojoos @realstephenking @trashmouthnick @eddiefuckinkaspbrak @s-s-georgie @reddieforlove @moonlightrichie @eduardoandale @girasol-eddie @thorn-harvester-ven @pink-psychic @nancynwheeler @recycle-byn @marsisaplanetyall @lifesucksheres20bucks @edstozler @uppperteeeth

[reddogf13]

Raw nerves ch 7

Pennywise x Beverly

summery: 7 years after pennywise tricked those kids into thinking they won, he unintentionally explodes a gas pipe. he wakes days later to discover hes being treated by Beverly. too weak to even walk he is forced to live under her roof. questioning her reasons for keeping him and why none of the other losers have come to end him. without knowing, the two join a path to heal each other.

status: complete

rated: M - fowl language and gore

previous chap: Raw nerves ch 6

next chap:  Raw nerves ch 8

_____________________________________

~ch:7 Life of the party~

Shaking her head. “just amazed to see everything labeled as paid.” pausing to stare at the newspaper. Clearing her remaining tears away.

In large bold letters the heading read: MAYORS COMPUTER EXPOSED EXTREME ABUSE

the article underneath going into detail how mayor tom rogan left his laptop open while he was answering questions for his upcoming campaign. News men passing by discovering a open computer file filled with extreme sexual abuse of his power. Hidden cameras in his bedroom filming multiple girls being brought in. showing tom giving threats of blackmail if they didn't have sex with him.

Tom was tracked down by police in his limo after leaving the diner he owned. After Tom shoved his driver out of the limo there was a short car chase. The limo slipping off the road to crash in a river. Police rushed down only to discover Tom had fled on foot and is now on the run from police. His whereabouts are unknown and he is to be assumed dangerous and to not be approached.

At the bottom of it all was contact information for victims to call a report in or to give a tip of a sighting.

she asked the clown standing nearby. “were there any videos of me?”

“there were, but they won't ever see the light of day. Unless you want to get involved.”

“i don't. I never want to deal with tom again.” crumpling the newspaper with Tom's mayor photo on it. “what happens now? What about the diner and the house?” she questioned.

“the house is fully yours. He won't be able to prove otherwise. The diner is not set yet, it'll be open a little longer, unless you want that to be yours too.”

“mm, I did like the diner as long as Tom wasn't around. I'd hate to see it close down and becoming just another empty building rotting away in Derry.” picking up the end pages of the newspaper to look at the wanted section. “this town can't afford to lose any more businesses.”

“i can give you whatever you'd like. You don't have to search the wanted ads.”

“i know that, but I want to. Before the whole tom mess I wanted to get into fashion. If I am going to do that I don't want to be flung straight to the top. It's funner to actually build for it. Earn your way there where you can relax in knowing it's all yours and wasn't just a gift of sorts.” looking over the paper. “i wanted to make something that would last. Something to build up for myself without working in somebody's shadow the entire time I am “on top”. i don't know exactly where to start though. I am really tired of secretary work, but I hardly know the industry.”

“i can get you into fashion college courses. Would you like to start there?”

“yeah, that sounds like a good way to hop in.” smiling as she set down the papers. Getting up to go change into work clothes. Allowing pen to tag along to work as long as he stayed out of trouble. Entering the office she discovered he redecorated it for her. Nice and clean with a new desk plaque shining her bright golden name off. All of toms things thrown into the dumpster out back.

Smiling over all the new furniture to breathing in the fresh smell of paint floating around the room. “never knew this office could be so nice. Feels like I can do stuff in here now.”

“not have to worry about bumping something that could get you screamed at later.”

“definitely that.” sitting down into the office chair.

“What will miss owner's first task be?” halfly joking around.

“major upgrades that toms been badly neglecting. We only have one stove barely working. And an oven on its last legs. The whole diner needs new carpeting and better upholstery that's not held by duct tape.” sighing at thinking of all that needed replacing. “fixing things here was like pulling teeth when talking to tom about it. Never could push either for fear of pissing him off.” sitting back up to search on the desks computer. “how do people know I own the diner now? Have I “always” had it?”

“You and Tom were co-owners, but he had the bigger share. Up until now with his arrest upcoming. All the shares belong to you now. Don't worry about any money accounts, they won't empty.” he informed.

“good, I'll need all I can get.” beginning her search for new kitchen supplies outward into business re-decorators. Spending almost her whole work day in the office. only stopping for a small lunch break to snag a meal in the kitchen. Returning back to the desk to eat a light salad that came with a side of beef stew. Letting pen claim the soup as long as he drank it away from the computer.

she was happy to leave at a reasonable time since forever when the work day finished. Satisfied that she got so much done today without being harassed by tom. Closing up the place before walking back with pen to drive them home.

“what did you get done on that computer?” he asked.

“ordered new stoves, ovens, kitchen cookware sets. Ordered all new booths, chairs with tables with a appointment to set them all up. Trash all the old junk. Painters and carpet replacers were also appointed. The outside signs will be repaired. Won't have a possible lawsuit anymore from the giant letters hanging on by a single nail.

Got in touch with the more local farmers and butchers. Tom always wanted the more expensive stuff out of town. Even though it was junk and mostly rotten when it got here. This will be a great helper to keep other businesses afloat in this small town.”

“you really like helping others don't cha?” he chuckled.

laughing back. “Pfft, you of all people should know that.”

“if you do get high in the fashion industry. What will you do then? Still have the diner or sell it away?”

“mm, don't know. I don't think I'd be able to give it much attention then. I'd still like to help people somehow. Maybe help fund small businesses to get back on their feet? Lead some rally for a new cause?” she shrugged. “i don't know.” parking the truck up into her driveway. “can't believe I am making it home at six. Tom always forced me to stick around way past eight. I have so much free time, what am I even gonna do? Can't start dinner yet.” heading inside.

The clown not too far with an idea. “i know how to pass the time.” hugging her from behind to kiss along her neck.

“hungry already?” she giggled.

“just a round of fun this time.” scooping her up into his arms to carry her into the bedroom. Kissing her the entire way before setting her down on the bed.

Her needing him to pause for a moment. “let me put these away.” she chuckled in putting away her name tag and car keys. Barely closing the drawer when she was pulled back over for more attention. Covered by kisses and licks around her neck to down her chest.

Clothes popped open to reach more bare skin for him to enjoy. Moving down to slip more clothing off her. Licking up her inner thighs for the final sweet tasting. Licking lovingly at her entrance to slip his tongue in. licking deeper each time for a far better tasting of her soft walls. Her lengthy moans bringing him up from between her legs.

Covering her with himself as he wedged his hips between hers. Hearing her let out a lovely hum against the steady grinding he was working into. Letting her hands travel up to pull away his clothes. The silk falling away with little resistance against her pulls. Hands rubbing across his muscled body to wrap over his shoulders. Distracted by the deep tonguing kiss pushing her back into the bed. Gasping at his girth squirming in to fill her for the fabulous friction.

Relaxing back to enjoy his firm thrusts pushing her further down into the bedding. Hands grasping along his arms and shoulders out of need to place her hands somewhere. Making it easier for her he flipped her over. Wrapping his arms around her waist to grip her hips to aim himself deeper. Picking up his pace to keep going. Burying his face into her neck to breath her scent in. driving him wild in breeding his female without any more competition.

His hot breath building moisture over the back of her neck. Licking the spot he gently bit into. Lessening any red marks he may have left. Cautious about how strong his bites were in not wanting to hurt her. Each time he did he got another heated scent of excitement from her. Losing himself as he shoved deeper off his inner instinct screaming him to while he could. His rod coiling up on itself to lock within her ready to release its load.

Swelling as the two reached their peaks. A thick warmth filling Beverly's core while she lay limp under him panting for air. Picking most of her into his arms he flipped them over. Giving her better breathing space as she laid on top of him.

“comfortable?” he teased.

“soon as I catch my breath” she smiled through her panting. “getting home early is going to be much more exciting from now on.” kissing him.

Returning the kiss. “I'll be happy to keep that way.”

“i am sure you will.” jokingly shoving him. “Time to start dinner for me. I bet you're too full to hunt anything.” moving to get up to redress.

“wait don't – ow!” cut off by her accidentally yanking on his knot still swelled in her.

“shit, sorry! You okay?” attempting a gentler try at removing him. Slipping him out by hand doing no good. “Are you stuck?” she asked.

“Yes, we’re knotted for a while.”

“How long is a while?”

“15 minutes.”

“15?! shit, looks like I am waiting for dinner.”

“could order pizza.” he laughed.

laughing along. “pfft, I ain't answering the door like this.”

“Ah, I can help you cook. Need only a bit of maneuvering.” rising them both onto their feet.

“this feels sooo weird.” shivering at all the shifting she was feeling from him. Grabbing the blanket off the bed to wrap them up. Along with a shirt to fully cover herself. Helped down to the kitchen to make a meal in one small cooking area to not move so much. Settling on relaxing on the couch to eat instead of at the dinner table.

“So what are the new mayor's plans for the town?” he asked from nowhere.

“what? We have a new mayor already?”

“yes, you.”

“me?!”

“Yes, why not? You want to change things for people. It's the best position in the meantime before you really get into the fashion business.”

“ … yeah.” she agreed on a bite of food.

“most of Derrys bad state was to keep my hunting secured. Don't really need it anymore. Tomorrow morning you get recognized into office. And your first political party later in the night.”

“ugh, political parties are the one thing I am not looking forward to.” taking another bite of food.

“I can think of a way to make them exciting.”

“You always have an exciting plan Mr. clown.” feeding him a small bit of steak. “So what is your idea? Or is a simple guess all I need to figure it out?”

“some of both. I am sure you can guess, but I do want to make it into a challenge.”

“oooh.” already turning interested in what he planned for the party. Dinner passing by they both headed for bed. Beverly taking time to carefully pick an outfit for tomorrow morning.

The next morning she made herself look nice and clean for the presentation. Driving down to the town square before the official announcement would start. The clown by her side going unnoticed by the crowd gathering to congratulate her. Talking with various groups and how they were doing. Gaining an idea of where she should start on changes. Called up to the stage to be announced her new position. Small interviews of how she feels and what she may plan. Then it was the start of a small celebratory party with catered meals served. When the fun was over she headed back to help at the diner.

Getting started on removing furniture for the appointed painters and carpet replaces. Chucking the broken down kitchen appliance to clean out the place thoroughly. Readying for a new appliance set to be moved in. by closing time the kitchen looked brand new. The rest of the diner needed only for the new furniture to arrive the next day. The Ticket system no longer relies on just a pen and paper drop off. Now all automatic on a portable menu the servers carried table to table.

“today's really been busy, but so satisfying. Are you finding it fun?” asking the clown as she closed up the refreshed diner.

“all that meat at the party sure was. My main course will be at the political party though.” he teased.

“sure it will be.” she teased back. Hopping into the truck for a temporary rest at home before the party. Refreshing herself in the shower and into another nice outfit. “You gonna tell me your exciting plan now?”

“nope, later into the party.” he grinned.

“better not do something weird.” gesturing him to follow back to the truck.

“oooof course not.” hopping into the passenger seat.

During the party he didn't say anything. Letting her speak with a bunch of people first for small interviews. It was when she was standing around looking bored did he then step in. “ready for the exciting challenge?” speaking behind her as she stood around with a small glass of wine.

“mm, your big challenge?” asking with interest.

“yeees.” he nodded.

“finally figured one out?” she joked. “what is it?”

“Your goal is to stay in the party as long as possible.”

“i am going to be honest and say that's not very exciting.”

“my goal is to grab you at some point and knot you. I knot you I win.” smiling at the bright red blush Beverly turned.

“how am I supposed to win? Suffer through the party until it ends?”

“yes. Do you accept?

“yes. … but we are definitely not having some invisible sex in the middle of a crowd. Got it?! You'll have to get me in some closet first or something!”

“All the more challenging for me. Catch you soon.” he left with a wink.

Hiding himself around the large town house hosting the political party. Watching Beverly pull the smart move of talking more between crowds. Avoiding any closets or pantry's he may try to snag her into. He'd have to get creative on this particular hunt. Gazing over the various rooms for a trap he could set up. Figuring something out, although when he sprung it he'd have to check with her. Slipping away to the shadows to stalk over to his lunging position.

Watching Beverly travel about the room. Chuckling as she looked over her shoulder now and again to try spotting him. He waited and waited for his moment. For her to wrongly step a bit too close to the table of snacks and drinks. Making her mistake when she reached to grab some water after her wine glass. Surprised when she was yanked under the clothed over table. Entirely unnoticed by anyone else in the room thanks to the clown.

“gotcha!” he gloated while Beverly was left stunned in his arms.

“you grabbed me under the snack table?!”

“yes, can I have my prize here? Nobody can see with the table cloth touching the ground.”

“ugh! … yeah, but be careful.” pushing on his face teasingly. “You haven't won anything yet either.”

when he got the go ahead he was quick to get her clothes off. Slipping his upper ware off to comfortably lay her on. Providing some soft fabric to lay against rather than hard flooring. Kissing and licking over her chest to gentle licks up to her neck. Grinding into her hips for her to feel his squirming length. Slipping some moans from her he needed to cover her mouth. Not wanting too much noise sounding from under the table. Keeping one hand over her mouth while his other removed her lower clothing.

Shifting himself for firmer friction between her legs to excite himself faster. Taking a hold of one of her legs to hike over his hip when he thrusted in. shallow thrusts turning deeper each time to reach his winning goal. Drool building within his mouth over the filling pleasure he was receiving. Holding back on rutting hard and deep becoming a slow losing battle. His instincts took over to knot her deep for a large breeding amount of cum.

His length twisting up for its final faze. A sudden grip at his base releasing the load way to early. Half of it spilled out onto the floor in a puddle. Realizing after that Beverly had grabbed his base to firmly squeeze a release from him early. His knot going limp in exhaustion after such a surprise. Beverly took her chance while he was stunned to slyly slip away with her clothes. Rejoining the party wearing a smirk on her face for the rest of it.

He huffed. “I'll let her have this one.” laying there satisfied either way. Relaxing in hiding up to the party's end. Meeting back with Beverly out in the truck to head home. “like the challenge?” he asked on the drive back.

“mhmm, especially since I won.”

“beginners luck.” the two chuckled. “that trick won't work the next time.”

“bring it on clown.” She happily challenged for the next party.

Parking the truck in the driveway to head inside. Beverly needed another shower after those events coating her a little. He clothes keeping it hidden during the remaining party. Pennywise laying in waiting for her like he had before. Not letting her get in bed before he pulled her down against him. Arms tangling around her to hold her close in a warm embrace. A peaceful rest coming on to them, but not lasting through the night.

Pennywise woke to a strange scent. Rising up in bed on alert to what it was. Waking Beverly from her sleep at his stiff movements jostling her in his arms.

“what Is it?” speaking through her sleepiness.

“there is a strange male outside.” growling aggressively over the intrusion.

[txtdiaries]

Momentum - Chapter Two

SUMMARY |  You don’t know what to expect during your first ever date with the boy of your dreams, but as the night goes on and things start to fall into place almost effortlessly, you realize one thing and one thing only about Choi Soobin - he is perfect for you.

PAIRING | Soobin X Reader

CATEGORY | college au, crush, slow burn, sports, date night, etc.

WORD COUNT | 7.9k

WARNINGS | swearing, fluff galore

SONG REC | Two More Minutes - Jaymes Young

PLAYLIST | momentum playlist

Preview / Chapter One / Chapter Two

Your eyes scan the football field, searching for the only jersey with the number 8 etched into the back of it as your feet carry you across the damp turf. You notice the group of players huddled up a few yards away as you get closer, and you make sure to skew from the coach’s line of sight  - not wanting to draw attention to yourself in the process.

Regardless of it being almost seven at night, the sun still hasn’t fully set, and the sky is radiating a slightly darkened blue color. You take a moment to skim over the players again, eyes finally focusing on one specifically when they find the tallest boy amid the group.

Soobin is always easy to find. 

He’s adorning his black and white football uniform, paired with his cleats and black knee socks, and a checkered sweatband is wrapped around his wrist to finish off his practice attire. You take note of the way your chest squeezes once he grins at something another one of his teammates says, and quickly shake your head to somehow shake the feeling off. 

You notice how Soobin’s helmet dangles from in between his fingers as you get closer - having been taken off only moments before - and how his black hair is matted down; clinging against his forehead and neck. His glasses are nowhere to be seen, and seeing him without them sends butterflies erupting in your stomach. The number on his back - Soobin’s famous number - beams proudly under the fluorescent lights dotted around the edges of the field, and you take a second to mull over the nickname he’s carried since freshman year to now. The unforgettable nickname that’s been his, and only his, since the first game of the season, two years ago.

The golden infinity, he had been labeled, since Soobin is supposedly the best in everyone’s eyes, and always will be. You can’t exactly blame them for thinking so. Soobin is the best of the best - you just can’t help but wonder if he sees himself this way too.

You know better than to think so.

After a few moments of shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you clear your throat; causing a few eyes to look your way. You don’t actually know that many of the boys on the football team. You only recognize a cute boy named Hyunjin, who has Math with you, and another boy named Mark.

You’re familiar with Mark. Not only because he’s popular and the football team’s star quarterback, but because he hit on you in English class last week. You avoid his burning stare instantly

“Yo, infinity,” Mark interrupts the coach’s light speal about the game-plan review for next week and looks over toward Soobin. He snaps his head in Mark’s direction at the mention of his name and his eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Your girlfriend is here.”

Your heart lurches in your chest after the words are said, and you watch as Soobin’s cheeks burn suddenly when Mark motions towards you. He quickly looks over with a light chuckle before his gaze lands on you. Your eyes widen as they flash over Mark before meeting Soobin’s again. He only grins at this.

You don’t actually know how Mark knows you’re there for Soobin, but you quickly gather that he had to have told some of his friends he had a date. Teammates or not, word spreads fast amongst jocks. Soobin is clearly no exception.

The coach finishes his speech and the players all break, half of them barely paying attention anyway as he tries to keep everyone’s energy up for the next game. Soobin shoves Mark’s shoulder amidst the chaos, and then moves quickly to grab his bag and walk over to your spot near the bench, a shy grin adorning his face as he does so. You fight to hold one back as well.

“Hey, sorry for having you come all the way here. Practice ran over.”

You shrug lightheartedly, “It’s fine, I don’t mind.”

His dimple carves it’s place into his cheek, and you feel yourself smile back at Soobin, heart rate accelerating. 

“Alright. We can head back to my dorm just so I can get out of these clothes and then we can head out, sound good?”

You nod as if you aren’t spiked with anxiety, because you’re really about to go to the Choi Soobin’s dorm room. You try not to overthink the situation, and then follow him off the field and onto the sidewalk, walking towards the student housing buildings quickly.

Soobin keeps you both occupied as you make your way east of the football field - asking you about your classes, how your day was going, and just about everything in between. You can sense his nerves as you two speak, but try to relax. After all, it is just Soobin. 

“My roommate shouldn’t be back yet, he had a test to study for.” Soobin explains once you two finally reach his dorm and stand in front of his room. He fishes a pair of keys from his black duffel bag and slides a small silver one into the lock, twisting lightly before pushing the door open. It’s one of the most mundane things ever - but it brings a blush to your cheeks. 

Get it together, you tell yourself. 

You walk in behind Soobin and watch as he carelessly tosses his items aside and onto the floor near his bed. You avert your eyes after he opens one of his dresser drawers, not wanting to seem nosy before your eyes start to wander around the room, studying it curiously.

Soobin’s roommate truly is nowhere to be seen, but his side of the room is so messy, you wouldn’t be surprised if he happened to be buried somewhere under all the laundry on the ground. His side of the room is far less organized, so you don’t pay much attention to it. 

Soobin’s half, on the other hand, is practically spotless. 

His bed is made, adorn with black bedsheets and matching pillows. He has a small bunny plushy propped up against one pillow, and you grin when you see it. Colorful throw pillows and even a small fluffy blanket are the only colorful items occupying the bed, making it look extremely comfortable along with welcoming. Your heart warms at Soobin’s possessions.

His laptop sits closed on his desk in the corner, and a pair of speakers sit on each side of it, turned off. Textbooks are lined up neatly on his long shelf just above, and his black backpack rests on the chair just next to it. Soobin doesn’t have a lot of space for his things, but from what you can see, everything on his side is just purely Soobin. From his bottled cologne resting on his shelf, or his glasses resting on the Algebra book laid open on his bed. Small details of him lie right in front of your eyes, and you take note of all of them.

The packet of unopened ramen noodles near his books, most likely for late night snacking. His pencil case shoved to the brim with different colored pens and highlighters for the hours he undoubtedly spends studying. Even the black journal you see peeking out from under his pillow, and the romance novel he strategically has shoved next to a science textbook on his desk, these small things hidden by others, almost as if he doesn’t want to be completely and fully exposed - even in his own bedroom. It all comes together perfectly.

You know right here and now - you really like Soobin. 

“I’m sorry it’s kinda messy.” Soobin speaks up as he pulls out a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, leaning over to swipe his glasses of the book before looking down at you bashfully. 

You smile up at him, “You gotta stop apologizing so much. It’s not messy at all.” 

He chuckles lowly at this before shaking his head. 

“You can sit down if you want, I’ll just be a minute.”

You tuck some hair behind your ear and nod, moving to sit on his bed as he makes his way to the door again. Your stomach flips at the thought of being alone in Soobin’s room - almost like you shouldn’t be here at all. Like it’s his sacred place you shouldn’t have invaded in the first place. With your thoughts running and your eyes wandering again, Soobin steps out, closing the door behind him. 

Your phone buzzes instantly - almost as if it was waiting for him to leave. 

You pull it from your back pocket in confusion, eyes scanning over the text you see as soon as you do. 

HOW’S IT GOING? - Junie

The text sent in all caps stares back at you in all its glory, and you laugh at Yeonjun’s excitement. You thumb back a reply easily.

I’m literally in his dorm room right now - send help. 

You lock your screen and pocket the device again, fingers drumming against your knee in boredom. You don’t want to inspect every inch of the room, because that would be weird, so instead you stand and peer at Soobin’s book collection, trying to see if you have any of the same ones. 

You can’t remember if Soobin is a literature major or a communication major, and your memory flashes as you swiftly recall that he had switched from one to the other. The only reason you know this is because Yeonjun, ironically, had a mutual friend with Soobin, and they had seen him leaving the Advising Center one sunny day last semester. After his friend Beomgyu, Yeonjun had later filled you in on his name, saw him, they chatted for a bit with Yeonjun right there. Although he couldn’t remember any of the most pressing details - you were lucky, and a little shocked, to get any at all. Besides, Soobin was just a casual crush you had - a boy you blushed and hid from whenever you saw him crossing campus - it almost felt weird to be informed of these things when you didn’t really know him in the first place.

Until now. Now, you were getting there.

After your eyes scan over his Digital Communication book and his Human Relations book, you safely decide that he was in fact a COMM major. You can’t help as your mind starts to wander, filling with questions and wondering why he switched in the first place. Clearly he loved literature - that was obvious given his extensive collection of literary classics and, surprisingly, modern romance and sci-fi novels, stacked on his shelf. Maybe he had simply switched because it wasn’t for him. Or maybe he switched for an entirely different reason. You can only wonder. 

Soobin re-appears in no time, and you glance over as he walks in again, noticing how his hair is now styled and his outfit, changed. You smile at this before meeting his eyes.

“Ready?” He questions, a cute grin tugging at the corners of his lips. You nod swiftly and step forward, moving to walk out the doorway with him. 

“You still haven’t told me where we’re going,” You comment, noticing how Soobin’s shoulder brushes against yours as he reaches into his pocket for his keys again to lock the door, “You could be kidnapping me for all I know.”

Instead of giving you a clear answer, he chuckles and pulls you gently, excitedly by the wrist towards the exit, “Well it wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now would it?”

“You’re swinging too low!” You call to Soobin who stands behind a chain linked fence, baseball bat in hand and helmet on head, facing an automatic pitching machine.

Out of all the places Soobin could have taken you on a first date, he took you to a sports playground. And to make matters even better - he was losing.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a jock?” You tease, watching as Soobin swings aggressively again, missing the ball by a longshot. His shoulders shake with laughter at your comment before he yells back, fixing his stance again.

“I’m out of practice and you’re making me nervous!”

You nod even though he can’t see and tug your own helmet on, laughing at his final swing. Soobin ticks the ball and sends it flying to the left of him, travelling a few feet away before crashing into the fence. His eyes meet yours as you walk up to the gate entrance. 

“Well I could have done better than that.” You say.

Soobin laughs at you, and it warms something deep in the pit of your stomach, “I’ll school you at basketball later on, don’t worry. Just try getting a few swings in to warm up and then get ready to lose.”

He was overly enthusiastic when you two first arrived, hands covering your eyes so you wouldn’t peek and ruin the surprise. When he finally revealed the large sign outside reading Benny’s Sports Playground, he was grinning ear to ear. You should have known Soobin would take you to a place like this for your first date. It was perfect, and you were both eager to play some games.

First on the list was baseball, seeing as it was the first actual game to be seen as you both entered. It was secluded enough, through a small entrance and shielded by a chain fence linked around its perimeter. It was a good warm-up game, you and Soobin had both agreed on that. After baseball, though, it’s basketball. And after that, you don’t dare guess what Soobin has in mind.

“I won’t be the one losing.” You feign confidence, stepping onto the artificial field before making your way over.

“Okay,” He shrugs, voice raising a few octaves as he shrugs goofily, “Okay! Prove it then.” 

You laugh at his tone, walking over to take the bat from him. Soobin pulls back gently as soon as you reach for it, lifting it back and up so it’s just out of reach, and smirks at you. You frown now and grab at it, pulling after your fingers wrap around the handle.

You realize, just then, that you two are acting like a couple. To a complete stranger, it could be interpreted as shameless flirting, and the thought alone almost makes you blush. Because Soobin is flirting, and you are actually letting him.

“Okay, okay, let’s see what you’ve got.” Soobin finally releases the bat after your shared moment, and steps back to lean against the fence enclosing the two of you a few feet away. You know he shouldn’t be the distance away that he is while you’re batting, but you don’t mention it. The workers took their break as soon as the two of you arrived anyway, not seeing the need to watch over two adults. You just hope they don’t arrive back anytime soon.

“You’re gonna regret making fun of me, watch.” You giggle, widening your stance before lifting the bat up, squaring your eyes on the machine a few yards away.

“Focus on the ball, not on me.” Soobin teases you back, but it makes your stomach flip anyway. You clear your throat after his words hang in the empty air, finally taking a deep breath before preparing to swing.

“I can do both.” You admit, far too quickly than you’d like, and you feel your cheeks heat up right after. You hear Soobin let out a laugh again before you laugh along, finally focusing the majority of your attention on the machine.

You only just let out a full breathe before the white ball is shooting out from the pitching square and flying rapidly towards you. You can feel yourself react a few seconds too late, and the ball goes rushing past you and clashes harshly into the fence just right of you as you swing, body spinning as you lose your footing from your uneven swing.

Soobin is right by your side now, trying to hold back his giggles as you stumble.

“Oh my- are you okay?” He beams, trying not to tease you.

“I’m fine.” You huff, shrugging his hands off your shoulders nonchalantly from where they touched your skin, feeling it tingle from where his fingers came in contact. You pretend not to notice. You feel a bit embarrassed.

“You gotta swing a little earlier,” Soobin encourages you, backing up swiftly before finding his spot against the fence again, “Focus on swinging as soon as it leaves the pitch so you’ll knock it as soon as it gets to you.”

You nod at his words, stabilizing your footing again before looking straight ahead again. You take another deep breath and grip the bat in your hands tightly, trying to do exactly as he told you. A beat passes and another ball is being shot towards you, causing your nerves to spike as soon as it gets closer.

You swing too soon.

You whine a bit as the fence behind you shakes, the force of the ball setting it out of balance as the sound echoes off it. Soobin is laughing now, finally moving back towards you before the next ball comes.

“Okay,” He starts, hands suddenly on your arms. Every nerve springs to attention where he touches, hyper aware of how he feels against you. You let out a soft sigh, hoping he can’t hear it.

“So you need to hold the bat up more.” He explains, fingers enclosing around yours as his front meets your back just slightly, helping you get your grip right. He gently taps your shoe with his, causing you to spread your stance again with a small, “Oh.” 

“Now that your stance is good, twist your body. Not a lot, just slightly for your force.”

Soobin twists with you to the right, helping you stop just where you need to.

You wonder, suddenly, if he’s done this before. Not the baseball part, because obviously he has, but the flirting part. Helping other girls with their stances and so on. It’s a good move - practically a classic. You wouldn’t be that surprised if he’s done it before.

Soobin’s voice suddenly starts shaking, just slightly and almost unnoticed by you as his body comes in contact with yours a bit more when he speaks again, almost taken over by his nerves. The previous thought disappears instantly. 

You realize now - he hasn’t.

“I- okay.” He says softly, “When the ball comes, wait until you know you’ll swing and hit it. You have to time it perfectly.” Soobin is patient with you, hands hesitating on yours longer than they need to before he steps back, taking all his warmth and scent with him. You miss him as soon as he steps away, before catching yourself. You remember that you need to focus.

“Okay.” You say, determined to hit the ball this time. You take another breath, your third ball is the final one, and you know you can’t miss now.

Mercilessly, the ball shoots from the machine with no time to spare, and you force yourself to wait - to time it and not swing too soon or too late. You force yourself to get it perfectly.

Crack!

The ball flies opposite from the direction it came. You’re barely able to focus on that though, because along with the metal in your hands sending a painful vibrating feeling through your hands from the force, your body still hasn’t registered that the ball is far gone. It still moves along with your arms, sending your feet out of balance again as you tip to the left as your balance falters.

The bat falls to the ground with a repeated clanking sound, but you barely notice. You notice Soobin’s presence again, only just a second too late as you trip over your footing, sending him down with you as your body throws his balance off as well.

“Oh shi-” 

You’re unable to finish your sentence as you both slip, knees burning underneath you as your bodies come in contact with the artificial flooring and then each other, Soobin’s body already taking more of the impact than yours.

You can still feel his hands gripping your hips when the world stills, pain shooting through your left side intently. 

It all happens so fast it’s almost impossible to know it even happened until it’s over, your body throbbing in pain as you realize what happened. Both your helmets lay next to the two of you, flipped upside down.

“Oh god.” Soobin suddenly groans from underneath you, taking a shaky breath.

“I’m so so-”

You finally meet his eyes, heart dropping at your current position.

Soobin is underneath you, eyes no longer covered by his glasses but closed tightly as his head rests against the floor, only inches from yours. Your bodies are pressed against eachother’s, limbs intertwined messily due to your fall.

You’re level when he finally opens his eyes, meeting yours.

All the words you had planned on saying are wiped from your mind when Soobin looks up at you.

“I...” You try again, finally realizing the intensity of all of this.

You see emotion flash in Soobin’s eyes when he realizes too - but he doesn’t move. His hands keep their place on your hips as you both breathe heavily, staring into the other’s eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Soobin says softly, even though it wasn’t his fault. Your eyebrows furrow as his soft breaths splay over your cheeks in light puffs. Soobin smells of mint, and your stomach flips at the softness of his tone.

“It was my fault.” You retort, aware of the feeling of his large body against yours. Every single cell in your body is screaming at the feeling, but you try and act unaffected. Soobin, on the other hand, doesn’t try as hard.

His eyes trail down from your eyes to your lips before moving back up, head tilting just slightly. It’s almost like Soobin is curious - just to see how you react to him like this. You feel the crackle of excitement and nerves find place in your stomach, and your cheeks heat up with a blush you know Soobin sees.

It’s all on him, you think. It’s his move.

After all, you aren’t bold enough to make the first move with Soobin. You think he knows this.

“Maybe we...” Soobin hesitates, eyes flashing with emotion, “Um- maybe we should move on from baseball. We both suck at it.”

And just like that, the moment is gone.

“Ah, yeah.” You cut through the silence, clearing your throat before your hands plant themselves on his shoulders, lifting yourself up and off of him. Soobin lets out a sigh as you move farther away, almost looking less nervous, and you pretend you don’t notice. Your knee burns at it comes in contact with the floor, but you ignore it and push up off it, regain your footing steadily again.

Your nerves die down, the feeling of hope stamped down in a cloud of smoke as Soobin stands up, brushing his hands on his jeans lightly before he leans to grab the bat abandoned a few feet away along with his, luckily, unharmed glasses. You know that the machine times out after three balls each so theres no need to worry about it going off again. The only worry in your mind is Soobin and how the two of you will interact after what just happened.

You don’t want to make it awkward, so you try your hardest not to.

“I hit it.” You speak up, hoping Soobin accepts the transition easily.

Relief floods your veins when he smiles over at you from the bat rack.

“I know, you hit it pretty hard too. You should try out for softball next season.”

Things slip back into their own rhythm as you two laugh, the moment gone but not forgotten as you meet back up near the exit and leave the batting cages after putting everything away, walking back into the main junction of the building to choose a new game. Your heart feels better when Soobin gives you his best smile, calming you down.

“So, basketball?” He asks, reaching in his back pocket for the small map provided when you two first came in displaying the location of every activity the company provides.

“Ooh, yes. I’m actually decent at basketball.” You nod, skipping slightly out of excitement as Soobin maneuvers you both around other people, holding onto your wrist gently again as he does so, not wanting to lose you in the process.

“We’ll see about that,” The corners of Soobin’s lips tilt up, “I was the captain of the basketball team last season.”

“You were also one of the best baseball players last season, but look what happened there,” You tease, reffering to him barely hitting the ball.

Soobin presses a hand to his chest to feign offense as you two finally step onto the joined court surrounded by slightly padded high walls and beams, and it makes you laugh. After a moment, you look around at your surroundings. Dozens of basketballs occupy each rack set up near the entrance, all in different colors, and the baskets are high on their beams on each side of the court. You aren’t that confident in your sport abilities, but you hope you are actually decent when it comes to this. You can only imagine how cocky Soobin will be if he wins. The thought itself makes you want to laugh again.

“So should we have a fair game, or just do free throws?” Soobin questions softly, already grabbing a bright green ball from the rack.

“You realize you’re like six fucking feet tall, right?” You ask Soobin incredulously. He snorts and then covers his mouth at your small outburst.

You laugh and continue, “We aren’t playing against each other. Let’s just see who gets to three points first and then go eat something?”

Your suggestion is met with a competitive Soobin speaking up suddenly.

“Okay, loser buys dinner.”

“This is a date, Soobin”

Soobin pouts at your words, and you have to hold back from smiling too wide.

“I mean if you want me to pay for dinner,” You backtrack, watching as Soobin retracts the idea immediately. 

“Okay, nevermind, loser has to do rockclimbing and climb to the very top.”

You think about this for a moment before agreeing. 

“Fine, loser rock climbs.”

Soobin is happy with this as he starts dribbling the ball excitedly, standing in place as he warms up a bit. You follow suit.

“How long have you played basketball for?” You ask him, not only wanting to know what you’re up against but also being curious about Soobin in general. The small talk up until now has been fairly basic, and you were ready to be a bit bold and ask Soobin some questions that have been on your mind.

“Around ten years.” He answers honestly, lifting the ball to spin it on one finger.

“Jesus, I played for one.” You say back, trying to do the same but failing miserably. Soobin blushes as he watches you scramble to grab the ball again, dimple showing.

“I’ll go easy on you, then.” He says. The words register deep in your stomach and you scoff at him, trying to appear normal. Soobin moves back to finally start the game, gesturing to the basket with his free hand.

“You can go first.” He says. You nod and bend your knees a bit, rolling your shoulders slightly to loosen up before raising the ball, preparing to shoot.

Soobin’s hand flashes in front of your view, acting like he is going to stop the ball before it even leaves your hands

“No cheating!” You laugh at him, moving farther away. 

Soobin laughs loudly and it echoes off the gym walls, making you shake your head. You take a deep breath and sush him, going again.

The ball soars through the air and slams noisily against the backboard after you throw it with all the strength you can muster, but instead of going through the hoop it knocks off the rim and meets the court again, bouncing towards you. You grab it easily as a groan leaves your lips.

“I’m scared of heights.” You say to Soobin, hoping this gives him the idea to go easy on you. He shakes his head and hides the permanent grin that has been on his lips all night.

“Better get over that fear real soon, sweetheart.” Soobin throws the ball towards the basket, and it falls in easily after he does so. Soobin yells out what sounds like a mix of ‘woah’ and ‘yeah’, and raises his arms in triumph, almost as if he didn’t even expect himself to make it, before you’re protesting and moving to shove his arms down jokingly.

“That’s not even fair!” You’re laughing, shoving him with your shoulder as he pokes his finger against your ribcage. Soobin runs forward to grab his ball after it bounces closer, jogging over to be by your side again once he grabs it.

“This is a fair game.” Soobin chuckles before quieting himself down again.

You’re focusing on aiming when Soobin speaks up again.

“So can I ask you a question?” His voice is slightly more serious, and you shoot before answering, actually making a basket. You cheer loudly for yourself and run to get the ball, beaming at Soobin before you reply, “Yeah, what is it?”

“How come you’ve never talked to me before, except for that night in the library?” He asks carefully, curiosity lacing his words. 

You ponder this as Soobin shoots, the ball bouncing off the backboard and across the hoop, not going in. He sweeps it into his hand as it bounces back easily, starting to dribble it again. You step back up to shoot, deciding to just be honest with him.

“Well, I obviously had seen you around and wanted to talk to you, but the situation never really called for it.”

“Until your friend left us alone together?” He asks with a knowing smile.

“Until my friend left us alone together.” You agree without meaning to, shaking your head and throwing the ball to the basket again. It bounces against the rim and miraculously goes in, earning an excited yell from you. When you look back at Soobin he’s already looking at you.

“What about you?” You ask him, “How come you never talked to me?”

Soobin blinks at you, tilting his head gently. 

“I didn’t think you’d like someone like me.” He answers without hesitation before blindly throwing his shot, the ball going nowhere near the basket as it bounces off in the distance, loud against the wooden gym floor.

You open your mouth to speak as your brows furrow in confusion, but no words come out.

Soobin just gives you a soft smile, eyes never leaving yours.

“Looks like you win.”

Your leg bounces up and down anxiously as you sit at a small table in the food court, phone in hands as you await Yeonjun’s reply to the text you previously sent.

You know Soobin will be back with the food the he promised any minute now, and you took the chance to text Yeonjun as soon as he left, your nerves getting the better of you as soon as you had been left alone.

CALL ME ASAP. 911. 

You’ll admit that your text is fairly on the dramatic side, but this was an emegency. You needed your best friend’s advice.

You jump in your seat slightly as soon as your phone vibrates and a selfie you took with Yeonjun appears on your screen, signifying his call. You slide your thumb over the answer button and press it to your ear quickly.

“Who’s ass do I have to kick?” Yeonjun says before even saying hello, calming your nerves immediately. 

“No, dude, it’s nothing like that.” You speak down the speaker, looking around cautiously for Soobin. Yeonjun listens as you go on after a moment. 

“We had a moment.” You explain, brushing some hair behind your ear with your finger slightly, “Like, a moment moment.”

“Well yeah,” Yeonjun says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “You two have insane chemistry. I’d be worried if you didn’t have a moment.”

You roll your eyes, “Junie, I’m serious.”

“So am I!” He goes on, “You two are soulmates after all, what more can I say?”

You groan and cover your face with your hands, “I just feel like I’m fucking it all up, especially because we almost kissed-”

“Woah, back the fuck up?” Yeonjun stops you, “You two almost kissed? Like, actually almost kissed?”

“What do you think a moment is, dumbass?” You ask him.

“Like a holding hands moment or a cute flirty moment, I didn’t think he would try fucking making out with you on date number one!”

“It wasn’t like he meant to- oh my god I can’t explain this right now. Problem is, what if I ruin it all?”

“You won’t. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

This shuts you up.

“In the library he couldn’t stop staring at you. And on campus when you think he isn’t looking at you because you’re too busy hiding? Yeah, he is.”

“So you didn’t think to tell me this, oh I don’t know, before I was a complete blubbering idiot in front of him?”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference, if anything it would have made you even worse in front of him.” You can hear your friend cackling.

Soobin rounds the corner a few feet away, food in hands, and your heart suddenly leaps up in your throat.

“Oh fuck, I gotta go, he’s coming back.”

“Wait, Y/N,-”

“Bye!” You snap, ending the call and shoving your phone back into your pocket, trying to look natural as Soobin finally reaches the table you’re at.

“So,” He says instead of a greeting, “They had these really cool drinks with food in these small trays in the lid? I’ve never seen it before and thought you’d like it. Anyway, I got us some. I think they’re chicken nuggets.” You make an impressed face as Soobin sets your meal in front of you, noticing that he got you one of each sauce since he didn’t know your favorite yet. You hold back a full blown smile as he settles into the seat across from you.

“Very cool, thank you.” You say, giving him a grateful smile. He smiles back and tears open his own sauce packet, starting to eat. You do the same.

“Is this the part of our date where we ask our deep questions?” Soobin asks around a mouthful of chicken, cheeks full. You take a sip of your drink before raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know, is it?” Soobin scrunches his nose up at your reply before giggling, and you swear it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“I think it’s gonna happen eventually. It may as well be now, since we have food here to comfort us if we make complete idiots out of ourselves.”

“You’re pretty confident in your idiocy.” You joke before taking a bite of your food, “But how do you know I’m the same?”

“You blush at a lot of the things I say.” Soobin answers, watching as your cheeks go red right after, “I know I’m able to make you nervous. And you’re like me, so when you get nervous you start rambling things out.”

You roll your eyes as if he’s wrong, but you know he’s spot on. 

“Yeah well your lisp gets worse when you’re nervous.” You say back, trying to one up him. His eyes widen in surprise at you.

“So does yours.”

“Shut up.” You laugh, “I barely have one anymore.”

“You have one, and it’s adorable.” He answers before dipping his head down to take another bite of his food, hiding from you. You want to compliment his back, but instead decide to change the subject.

“Okay okay, let’s get into these deep questions you had in mind. You start.”

“It was my idea.” Soobin pouts, making you whine playfully at him. You laugh and then speak again.

“Fine, I’ll start. Ummm...” You take second to think before a question pops into your head, “What’s your major and why?” 

Soobin perks up, “Not that deep but getting there. Was English but is now Communications. What’s yours?”

You were right about your assumption back in his dorm room and smile at his answer.

“Communications. Why’d you change from English?” You shoot back.

“Copycat,” He teases even though you had the major before him, “And I loved it, I just wanted a different type of job after awhile. I felt like English kind of restricted me to just one type of writing job, and I wanted to have a more creative career options in the future.”

You nod at his answer, agreeing completely. It seems you two were more alike than you thought.

“Okay your turn,” He says before taking another drink, awaiting your question. You make a face at him, “Uhhh no I already asked you.”

He shakes his head, “And I asked you your major.”

You glare, “You can’t bounce off my question and act like it’s yours too. Be creative, Soobin! Use those critical thinking skills of yours. Come on, wow me.” You’re teasing him, and he knows it. He’s shaking his head and chuckling as he thinks.

“Okay, fine. Tell me about one of your passions.”

You think about this for a second, eyes looking down at the table in thought before you answer, “Writing, probably. Reading doesn’t really count as a passion - it’s more of a hobby.”

Soobin looks pleased with your answer, nodding gently as you speak up again.

“Yours?”

“Nope, no bouncing off my question.” He says back smugly. You cover your face and laugh loudly, not even realizing your mistake.

“God, okay, tell me one of your hobbies.”

Soobin takes a drink and thinks about it for a few seconds.

“Maybe academics? I don’t know... I just... I like school,” He explains as he talks to you, “I just kind of do good because I’m a perfectionist. I have no choice there.” 

You nod, urgining him to continue. He adds to this quickly.

“My passion is dancing, I think.” He says this quietly, almost like he’s shy about it. You’re surprised at this.

“Dancing?” You ask, unsure if you actually heard him right.

He nods silently, a deep crimson powdering over his cheeks as he does. You’re surprised, but somehow, it totally makes sense. 

Soobin, although a jock, could be very unpredictable at times - and this was definitely one of those times. Dancing, you think. It’s impressive. 

“You didn’t strike me as a dancer.” You say honestly, “Considering you do sports most of the time.”

Soobin nods, “I’m not the only guy on the football team who does dance, which is really great and, like, super progressive, but I’m the only one who does it as a hobby and not seriously. I don’t know if I could do it seriously, or even professionally.”

The only other dancer on the team you know is Mark, but you don’t say anything. You keep on listening as he speaks, fully interested.

“I dance with my friend Beomgyu who’s, like, killer at it. We use the practice studio late at night when our classes are all done. He’s a dance major so he gets to practice whenever he wants which is really convenient for us.” 

You nod, “So how long have you been dancing?”

“Not long,” He answers honestly, “Maybe just over a year now. I don’t know, I’ve wanted to start for awhile but never did until just this year when I got the chance.”

“I think that’s really cool.” You smile at him finally, watching as his face lights up.

“Thank you, I try.”

You both talk for a little while longer, sharing dreams and hopes, and things you never thought you’d even tell eachother before finally finish your food and standing to throw away your trash. You can’t help but yawn a bit once you’re finally done, tiredness finally hitting you once you realize it’s well past 9 at night.

“Are you tired?” Soobin asks, hand suddenly running up and down your arm soothingly. You lean into him, nodding a bit, “It is getting late, but I still want to watch you do rock climbing.”

Soobin laughs, “I think it’s probably closed by now, but for one of our next dates we can come back and you can watch me break my leg while rock climbing.”

You ignore the way hope crawls up your body, knowing that Soobin wants a next time. You blush and nod softly, letting Soobin see that you’re fine with it before he leads you both to the exit, finally taking you back home.

The sky is clear as you both walk the short distance from Benny’s back to campus, and somehow, Soobin’s hand has entangled itself in yours as you two walk, gently rubbing circles on the outside of your palm as you two make small conversation. It feels so right - all of it. Your heart beats steadily in your chest as you walk through the cool night air with Soobin.

“-And that’s why I chose to move so far for college, I guess.” You finish what you were previously explaining, glancing over at a nodding Soobin.

“I think it’s brave that you moved so far away to achieve your goals. It’s admirable, really.” 

You laugh gently at this, appreciating his words.

“I feel like-” Soobin hesitates, “Well... I don’t know, I feel comfortable like this.” He speaks up, looking at you as you two walk. A slight breeze blows, sending your hair in front of your face gently.

Soobin doesn’t hesitate to reach up and brush the few strands behind your ear, lips tugging up at the corners after.

“Me too.” You agree softly, finally spotting your dorms a few yards away, “I’ll be honest, I was really nervous for tonight.”

Soobin laughs, almost not believing you.

“So was I, but you shouldn’t have been, it’s just me.”

“I know,” You nod as the two of you reach the dorm’s entrance, “I just couldn’t help it, I guess.”

Soobin nods a final time, showing he understands before stopping in front of you. Even though the two of you are done walking, his hand still holds yours lightly, causing goosebumps to spread over your skin. You try to shake the feeling but can’t.

“So next time I’ll kick your butt at baseball.” Soobin jokes, eyes crinkling up cutely as you laugh. 

“Okay, we’ll see about that.” You hide your face behind one hand, trying to cover up as you laugh at him. You don’t notice Soobin moving until your other hand is being pulled down away from your face, and is entwined in his.

“You’re pretty when you laugh.” Soobin says softly, sending butterflies loose in your stomach.

“I-,” He corrects himself, “I mean you’re pretty all the time, not just when you laugh.”

You giggle, “You’re pretty too.”

Soobin’s cheeks redden, like he’s never been praised for his looks before, and then his grin drops a bit.

His eyes are back to flashing down your face, to your lips, and you feel the tension start to rise again; the same feelings from earlier hitting you in what can only be described as a whirlwind of emotion.

You tilt your head just slightly, watching him. You don’t know what he’ll do next - or if he’ll even do anything - but part of you hope he does.

“I...” You start but your word hangs in the air as soon as Soobin steps closer, one hand loosening from yours to move up and cradle your face gently. His fingers are soft on your skin as you gaze into his soft eyes, breathing erratic. 

“Is this... is this okay?” Soobin whispers, words almost lost in the nighttime breeze as he dips his head down, moving that much closer to you. His lips are inches from yours now, and your senses are heightened.

You just manage to nod before Soobin does the same, his other hand which is holding yours starting to shake. You glance down to make sure it’s not just you shaking, but your eyes flash back up when you realize it’s not.

You make it a rule to not kiss guys on the first date - but for the first time ever, you think it would be okay to break that rule. 

Soobin’s breath is gentle on your skin as he lets out a soft sigh, voice coming out a few octaves deeper when he speaks again.

“Can I- would it be okay if I did something I should have done earlier?”

You’re nodding before you realize you are, and it’s like the whole world around you stops as Soobin nods in affirmation before slowly leaning in.

You feel the way your breath catches in your throat as soon as Soobin’s mouth slots against yours, and his soft lips press lightly against slightly parted ones. The kiss is gentle, and you two hardly move the whole time, scared that if one person does, the spell will be broken and real life will come crashing down around the two of you. 

You feel yourself sigh when he momentarily pulls away, but his hand pulls you closer afterwards, surprising you by looping around your waist and bringing you firmly against him.

This kiss is better than the first.

Soobin’s hand is steady against your hip, and his thumb strokes your jaw lightly as he kisses you, teeth grazing your bottom lip as it deepens, evoking a deep sigh from you. You want to be closer to him - ironically, since you’re already as close as you can get - and you know he feels the same. His chest is rising and falling when you two finally detach, and his cheeks are pink. Soobin’s hands are still shaking.

You laugh lightly, unable to do anything else. Soobin does the same, both of you buzzing with nerves.

“I... okay.” He struggles for words, stepping back slightly, giving you space.

“Thank you... for tonight.” You clarify, moving to grab your keys from your jacket pocket. Soobin is already nodding.

“It’s no problem. Thank you for going.” You nod back, smiling again.

“I’ll call you, I promise.” Soobin adds, dimples appearing on both of his cheeks. Your heart warms at the sight.

“I’m looking forward to it.” You say, biting your lip as Soobin steps even farther away.

“Okay, I’ll see you, Y/N.” Soobin says sweetly, hands burying in his hoodie pockets before he walks backwards towards the sidewalk again.

“See you, Soobin.” You smile before finally going inside, heart pounding.

You close the door behind you, and with your heart soaring and one of the brightest smiles ever adorning your face, you make your way to your bedroom, unable to hide the excitement you have for the next time you’ll be able to see him.

Because that’s what Soobin does - you suddenly realize.

He gets under people’s skin, and he brings light into them. 

Your heart thumps loudly in your chest as you finally enter your room, closing the door behind you.

Soobin had gotten in just a little bit tonight, and had started to let some of the light into you. And after everything that had happened -  you were letting him.

[daddychims]

Offside Pt2

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Series Masterlist!

Genre: Smut, Soccer AU, College AU

Pairings: Soccer Player! Jungkook X Sports Trainer! Reader

Word Count: 2k

Other BTS members all make a cameo as well because I’m an OT7 Trash!

You work as a sports trainer, providing basic first aid and injury management for the Hanguk University’s soccer team. Going with your mundane life of caring for the dozen of guys hurting themselves in the soccer game takes a turn when one of the guys catches your eyes. It’s not his breathtakingly good looks or his muscular athletic body usually seducing girls at the campus that catches your eyes. But the action plan in your kit, indicating he is diagnosed with Asthma is what draws your eyes time and time again to the Golden Boy of Hanguk University.

Warning: Slow burn, eventual smut, Taehyung being a freaking tease the whole time, Fuckboy!Jungkook, Asthmatic! Jungkook , mentions of episodes of Asthma, Take your Ventolin kids, Take your medications kids!

A.N. This is unedited so bear with me for now, I’ll probably edit it tomorrow! 

“How’s everything going?”

You look up to the source of the voice, a faint smile dancing on your lips as the sight of the young doctor greets your eyes. The doctor’s beauty never fails to brighten up your shifts and tonight is no exception. Kim Seokjin, the sports medicine specialist taking care of Hanguk University’s sports clinic who also happens to be your boss.

“Not too bad!” You reply back in a jolly tone as you quickly jam pack the strips of tape in the bag carefully, hiding your blushing cheeks from the guy.

“Were the guys behaving while I was away?” The young doctor asks in his soft, polite voice as he helps you pack your tools

“Yeah, they’re alright,” you nod reassuringly, “We just had an ankle sprain over the weekend, that’s the most exciting it got.”

“Jung Hoseok?” He asks and you chuckle in response

“The captain is always a bit too passionate,” You elaborate with a smile “I just taped his ankle off and sat him down on the bench for the weekend. He was doing fine tonight so we compromised under one condition. And  that is he will take it easy for a while.”

“I think its time for me to retire then,” he laughs as he pushes the last piece of tape in your bag “you’re ready to take over huh?”

“Of course not Dr Kim,” you shake your head with a frown “I won't last a day out here on my own, its the finals in a bit and we’ll see how they all start to fall apart.”

He helps you place the bag full of tapes and gels on the side of the room, before looking around and reaching for the plastic bag containing the Inhaler.

"Not that," you quickly call catching his attention "I have to put that away, It's expiring in a week."

 "Oh right," He nods as he quickly looks over at the side of the puffer and checks the date "Are we getting one anytime soon?"

"I placed the order through the office, Mrs Han said it'll be here sometime next week." You explain as you organize the grab a paper towel to clean the table

"How's Jeon doing?" Dr Kim's voice echoes in the room and you pause while doing your cleaning duty, briefly thinking over your earlier observation

"He's alright!" You reply after a moment of hesitation against your real intentions

"That's good, I was wondering if I need to take him in for a review."

Your ears perk at the statement and you quickly stop, glancing up at the young doctor.

"Why?" you asked with a keen tone

"Why what?" Seokjin replies with a dumbfounded expression

"N-Nothing..." you quickly shrug it off, proceeding to dry off the traces of wet water off the chair before pausing again and looking up at the confused doctor "Actually, I dont know!"

"You dont know?" he repeats, his face showing more confusion

"About Jeon, I dont know if he's fine," you state nervously watching Seokjin's questioning eyes for the cue to continue talking "I mean I'm only in my third year and we barely learnt anything about Asthma but-" you quickly shrug off with a chuckle "Its probably foolish assumption of me anyways!"

"No go on," he says furrowing his eyebrows "I'm sure it's worth discussing at least!"

"Well, he was coughing quite roughly in the middle of the game tonight," you explain and Seokjin nods in response

"Was that all you observed?" he asks, his voice suddenly resembling some of your tutors in the classes you attend every day

"He seemed a bit short of breath, I mean he was in the middle of the game so It might be normal but he was hunching over and gasping during his cough," you elaborate your earlier memory of the guy "Which means he was usually extra help from his accessory muscles."

"What's your hypothesis?"  He asks softly as he takes the information in

"I'm not sure, I mean I dont know much about his Asthma  but I know he shouldn't be feeling so breathless if he's taking his meds." you reply honestly  and the doctor nods with a smile

"Well I think someone has been listening to her lectures pretty well," he chuckles placing the plastic bag on the table, " I agree with you. I should probably review his medications. Good call."

"Oh," you respond quite surprised at his reaction "Thanks." you flash a smile before walking across the room to get your bag and leave

"Y/N..." you turn around upon hearing your voice "If you observe anything next time, dont hesitate to tell me," he instructs giving you a reassuring nod "Considering you see those guys more often than me on the field, It doesn't hurt to call things out."

"Sure Dr Kim!" you bow quickly before shifting your bag on your should and leaving the clinic

-

"These pain science lectures will be the death of me. they are so freaking boring.” 

Your friend sighs dropping his forehead on the table, pressing it firmly against the book.

"Calm down Joon, we're in the library, not your living room," you hiss under your breath, grabbing the corner of his MacBook and having a quick look at his screen "hey you're almost done with it."

"Yeah after literally 5 hours," he rolls his eyes at you as he brings his head up "Are you done?"

"Yeah, I was having a look at the Asthma topic-"

"Asthma?" he interrupts, quickly leaning to have a look at your screen  “Dont you guys learn that in the second year!?”

"Yeah," you shrug nodding your head "Doesn't hurt to revise you know!"

"Ugh you're so freaking annoying," he whines pursing his lips forward, "I barely get to catch up and you're already revising!"

"The finals are near, you should start too-" you start your mini-lecture for your friend when he quickly stands up

"I think we've done enough," he quickly jams his notebook, pens and papers in the bag "Pack up, we're partying tonight!"

"I can't," you sigh, pressing your bottom to the chair as you rest your back on the backrest "With the final games coming up I'll have to work double shifts soon, It's not time to party!"

"I came all the way from SNU to study in Hanguk’s library with you,” he raises an eyebrow unimpressed “Now you’re sending me off to the party on my own?”

“Well thank you but no one asked you to come here!”  you shrug in response

”Woah,” he scoffs in disbelief leaning closer over the table “I get called a traitor by my team for coming here and hang out with you just to be disrespected like this!?”

“Seriously, you and your team are SO overdramatic!” You sigh

“Well, with the final games coming we have to keep our guard up,” he replies determinedly “Which is why we decided to go to Jeon’s party this week!”

”What!?” You shriek with wide eyes, receiving a few hushes and glares from those in the library “You’re attending your opponent’s party to hold your guard up!? Are you guys dumb!?”

“Hey hey,” he hisses furrowing his eyebrows “This is highly professional leadership, I figured it’ll be a good idea for the boys to get to know their opponent. As they say, keep your friends close and your enemy closer.”

”Christ, That sounds even more ridiculous when you put it that way.” You chuckle mocking his way of describing things

“Anyways, I’m going to Jeon’s party and you’re coming with me,” He says as he snaps the top of your laptop to close it down and grabs your bag “And you’re gonna be my wingwoman and introduce me to Jiwoo.”

You start laughing right away, covering your mouth so the sound of your hysterical laugh doesn’t receive any more harsh glares from the library attendants.

”Highly planned leadership my ass,” You mock looking at your friend with an amused look “You wanna get in your opponent’s pants huh!?”

“Well, technically it’d be my opponent’s sister’s pants so ..." he explains defensively

“Hoseok will kill you if he knows!” You warn, tone slightly threatening

”I know,” he rolls his eyes as he unzips your backpack and pushes your books in, “I can handle him on the field, how bad can he be!"

”Pretty bad!" you nod sternly "I’m just saying Jiwoo is my friend and I know how protective Hoseok can get,” you throw your shoulder up defensively "Dont tell me I didn't warn ya!"

-

You quickly type a text informing Jiwoo that you're in the place. The house is packed with Hanguk University's party animals, youth in their 20s dancing and getting smashed on the hard liquor.

You're not quite used to these places, considering yourself more of a nerd as your friend Namjoon would love to call you. You hate crowded places like this and prefer enjoying your weekend drinks at a more classy bar rather than a house party like this.

But you can't object your friend's request considering how far he's been travelling from his own campus to yours every single week to give you a hand in your studies.

Namjoon is in his final year, studying the same major as you. But instead, he's pursuing it at the Seoul's National University. You still remember how jealous you were when you studied your ass off and still got rejected by SNU while he managed to get in with full scholarship via what you'd consider as "minimum effort".

His high IQ, however, is not the only matter of envy in everyone's eyes. But the fact that he manages to be the captain of the SNU's soccer team labels him as the official cream of the crop. 

But nevertheless, he's still you dumbass Joonie who used to play with you in the backyard of your house, putting rocks in the middle of your bicycle path so he can laugh at you stumbling and hurt your butt. 

So you have no other choice but to put yourself in a place you'd never voluntarily be just so you can help him out with his love life.

"Jiwoo!" You call getting a sight of your friend who's swaying to the beat with a red cup of booze in his hand.

She turns around and smiles waving at you with her signature bright smile and you walk through the crowd to get to her.

"Look Who's here," she declares with an amused grin on her lips "Did the sun rise from the west today?!" he chuckles teasingly

"I figured I'd be able to finally get a sight of my old friend here!" you hiss looking for a plastic red cup to get some booze yourself

"Hey hey," she crosses her arms across her chest "You're not blaming it on me, I told you I can always be found here."

"Yeah sure," you roll your eyes at her statement "I'll keep in mind your primary method of the meetup is House parties."

"It's fun." she pouts, hooking her hand around yours and placing her chin on your shoulder "Did you hear the SNU boys are coming tonight?" she hesitates before muttering "I wonder how that'll go!"

"I was with Namjoon earlier, he told me he's coming over with the boys," you nod and glance back at her worried expression "why?"

"This a secret, dont tell anyone," she warns as she leans closer to your ear "Jungkook has some kind of history with one of them. He didn't really want them here."

"Jeon?" you repeat and your friend nods to confirm "How come?"

"Not sure!" she purses her lips in uncertainty "I overheard Hoseok talking to him earlier, he didn't look too pleased and kept talking about this guy called Jimin. but Hoseok convinced him its good for the upcoming friendly game they have next week."

"Friendly game?" You ask with furrowed eyebrows, "How come I never heard of that? They should have added it to my schedule!"

"They still haven't confirmed it, they're planning to discuss it tonight."

You nod digesting the new information your friend just gave you. You recent memories with Jungkook flashes through your mind and considering he's such as jerk all the time it's not so unexpected for him to have beef with other people in your mind. 

"I'm going to the bathroom." you make an excuse, drifting away from the girl in an attempt to find Namjoon and hopefully do your mission of the night.

Walking through the crowded hallway you find your way to the bathroom with the help of Jiwoo's rough guide. You stop by a wooden door that appears to be very similar to Jiwoo's description of the bathroom when you hear an unusual sound of breathing. It sounds like rough gasps for breath along with occasional coughs in between which all sound to familiar to your ear.

You furrow your eyebrows slowly walking towards the open door at the end of the hallway, peeking through the crack of the half open door. You watch the hunched view of the guy who has his head between his hands, gasping for air while sitting on the edge of his king sized bed. 

"Jeon, You alright?" Before you even realize your instincts push you inside his room, ignoring other things such as personal space and privacy that might have been a good idea for you to consider before heading inside the guy's room.

His doe eyes travels up to you, pupils slightly dilated which in your mind reminds you of every lecture you sat through about Fight or Flight response kicking in. 

"Hey you alright?" you quickly step closer to him and he winces, body retracting 

"G-Get out!" he yells through his gasps, stumbling on his breath to make it to the end of his short words

"Are you sure you're fine?" you ask squinting your eyes at him as you take another step closer

"I said get the fuck out! NOW!" he shouts back in response, firmer this time and thats enough for you to turn around and run.

Before you know, you're running down the hallway in rushed footsteps. You dont even know why you're running away but before you even try and rationalise you're actions, you bump to someone who's walking in the opposite direction towards you and you both stumble on the floor.

"I'm so sorry!" you quickly mutter against the guy's chest who you basically used as a shield against the floor you just fell on

"No, you're alright," he mutters in his quite high pitched sound

You raise your head up to get the sight of your savior just before you attempt to roll off his body. He has a faint smile on his plump lips and his eyes almost disappear as his grins widens upon seeing your face. 

"Hey," he greets raising up on his elbows, while still having your body draped over his comfortably. You shiver as he leans closer and his warm, alcohol scented breath hits the side of you neck "You dont look as heavy as you feel," he whispers and your whole body heats up in embarrassment "But you know I always had a thing for girls who have a bit of meat on them." 

A.N. Please reblog, comment or send in anons and let me know what you think! Love ya’ll! 

[onstarsandiron]

This is a master post of all the settings for Heart of Iron and Soul of Stars!

As always, let me know if there’s something here that you’d like added/dug up!

Hope the picture quality isn’t too bad, it is admittedly a screencap via my laptop

[Image description: A black and white map of a solar system labeled “The Iron Kingdom” with the sun on the left center edge. Each planet is set on a dotted line indicating its orbit. An area indicated to the lower right of the sun is labeled as “The Starpass”. The closest planet to the sun is Eros, a dark circle with a marbled texture; there is a leader at the top of the planet indicating Resonance, as well as one at the bottom left of the planet indicating Neon City. Around the planet circles its two moons, Juniper and Luna, the latter of which has a leader pointing to its lower right indicating The Iron Palace. To the right of the orbit of Eros’ moons is a small dotted line indicating the orbit of Nevaeh, represented as a dark hexigon. The next planet is Iliad, a dark circle with a cloudy texture and a ring of stars just inside its bounds. A leader at its bottom right indicates Zenteli; Iliad has no moons. The third planet is Cerces, a dark circle with a water-stained texture. Cerces is orbited by Calliope and Palavar. Beyond Cerces is a dotted band that indicates the asteroid belt that encircles the Iron Kingdom, upon which Xourix, a dark pentagon, lies. Between Iliad and Cerces, but lower on the page than either of them, is a cloudy area marked “Haven’s Grave”. End description]

The solar system is as described above. We’re not really given much information about the orbit rates of the planets or the moons or anything aside from Ana’s (originally Erik’s) coronation day being the day all three planets align in what’s known as “Holy Conjunction”, which just so happens to be the thousand-year-anniversary of the Iron Kingdom. The story starts exactly one week (presumably 7 24-hour days, though it is unclear how they keep time standardized in the Iron Kingdom) before this event. 

It’s implied that the planets are broken up into districts and ruled over by Ironblood families (consistent with the classification of the system as a Kingdom) by the line, “The Valerio family was the wealthiest in the kingdom and ruled over twenty-three districts on Eros and Iliad, and a mining continent on Cerces, so they were expected to present themselves with a certain flair—especially at parties.” (HoI, I: Iron Thief, Robb) 

Erosians are seemingly distinguishable from Cercians, though if it’s just due to Cercians’ tribal markings or if there’s further physical traits that distinguish the two, it’s not made clear. It’s implied that there is no life native to Iliad, but the Solani people all hail from Zenteli, as that’s where their ark crash landed 1,000 years before the story’s beginning, though they have of course since spread to the other planets and intermarried with the Erosians and Cercians.

Eros

The planet closest to the sun, this is where the Valerios evidently hail (Robb is often characterized as having an “Erosian” accent), as well as the location of the Academy of Iron and Light, the tomb where the goddess was buried, and Neon City. Heart of Iron says Eros has three moons, but the map in Soul of Stars only indicates Juniper and Luna. “Eros took up most of the starshield, a blue-and-green planet wrapped in layers and layers of bone-white clouds.” (HoI, II: Iron Ships, Jax) Siege has, “…knockoff tapestries of the rolling landscapes of Eros…” (HoI, II: Iron Ships, Ana), and it’s said to typically have a, “Dreamy, green landscape.” (SoS, I: Starship, Ana). Robb’s blue eyes are described as “Erosian blue” many times, implying either that Eros has a very particular blue compared to the other planets, or that the other planets have sky colors other than blue, which would indicate different atmospheric conditions between the three. 

Neon City: Located on Eros, it’s noted as distinctly not like the rest of the planet. “Located in the southern quadrant of the planet, Neon City constantly smelled like damp cement, sewage, and fresh rain, but from a distance the city was beautiful—outlined in lights that reflected in the puddles and through the mists that drifted along the streets. Buildings jutted up into the sky like piercing daggers, slick and glittery with rain. It gave the city an eerie, haunted radiance. In the outskirts where Ana walked, darkness clung to the streets.” (SoS, I: Starship, Ana). It’s implied that it’s always raining in the city. It’s full of dive bars, cement buildings, and steel sky scrapers. There’s a lake somewhere nearby named Lake Leer. 

Resonance: A town nearby the Academy of Iron and Light and right by the tomb of the Goddess. “Koren Vey raised her hands again, and up from the ground came hills and valleys that reminded Robb of the backs of those scaly lizards Erik used to put in his bed as a child to scare him, but then he recognized the strange-shaped pool of water in the valley. “Hold on. That’s Lake Myriad. And that pass in the mountains is the Rigid Bone. I know these landmarks. It’s in the Bavania Range”—Robb motioned to the mountains—“because that’s the valley near …” He went very quiet. “The valley near … ?” Ana prodded. “Near the Academy.” (Sos, II: Starless, Robb). 

Luna

A moon of Eros, Luna is the location of The Iron Palace. Nothing besides the palace is mentioned to be on Luna, but that doesn’t mean such is so. 

The Iron Palace: “The Iron Palace looked like a shard of black glass against the otherwise pale landscape of the moon, a gloomy fortress. The North Tower looked like the other three, but it stood as a hollow shell with burned insides. It had never been rebuilt, and instead the doors were locked – the halls never to be trod in again. The rest of the palace, however, was immaculate in its marble walls and golden trim - the pinnacle of opulence. Surrounding the palace lay terraformed gardens blooming with moonlilies, and in the largest garden stood the kingdom’s first Iron Shrine. … Royal Captain Viera led them into the palace gates and through the empty square, the palace towering over them like a shard of black glass. The palace doors opened into the great hall, lined with pillars as thick as three men.” (HoI, II: Iron Blood, Robb) The palace is largely lit by floating lanterns that fill the halls and rooms, though most likely there are other lighting options such as lamps, overheads, etc.

The palace is also described as a real maze for those who don’t know their way, with identical hallways that Ana only found her way around once she learned which vases and paintings were in which halls. There’s also a system of servant passages that allow servants to move seamlessly through the building and attend to matters unseen. These passages are used by Robb to visit Ana, Malifare as she poses as Ana’s handmaid, and Ana when she was lured into the North Tower. 

Messiers stand at every corner, in the gardens, and at the palace doors. They by-and-large don’t do much. 

Bonus: The Iron Throne: “The throne swallowed the [Grand Duchess]. Large steel beams spiked out from the chair’s back like sun rays, and she the center.” (HoI, II: Iron Blood, Robb)

Nevaeh

Nevaeh is a space station city whose orbit lies between Eros’ and Iliad’s. “The cityscape of Nevaeh passed below, a grid of grimy, dilapidated buildings. Nevaeh had been the only safe haven from the Plague twenty years ago, so everyone who was not infected had moved here – including Ironbloods, who created the gardens to separate themselves from the citizens. An extra layer of protection from the Plague. But soon the space station fell into disarray, with too many citizens and too little space and no money left to buy land on-world on Eros or Iliad after the Plague was eradicated.” (HoI, I: Iron Theif, Robb). 

Astoria: Astoria is the Valerios’ garden estate. As stated above, the Ironbloods took refuge from the Plague in Nevaeh as everyone else, but installed for themselves floating garden estates which hang above the city. Astoria is filled to the brim with exotic flora, including hedge mazes, thorny bushes, and plenty of room to host events. 

Shrine: There is a large, prominent shrine on Nevaeh in which Ana’s adventure begins – attempting to steal the coordinates to the Tsarina from Robb – and ends – in a fight against Malifare that is eventually won by her, Di, and Siege. “At the head of the shrine stood the statue of the Moon Goddess, seven men high, her arms oustretched as she looked to some distant point in the domed ceiling, where murals of the Moon Goddess’s story, the kingdom of shadows and the girl of light, were painted. The entire space station of Nevaeh felt empty in the shrine, as if the world only existed between the alabaster pillars and stained-glass trappings, so quiet she could hear the electric hum of Di’s wires and functions, as soft and soothing as a song.” (HoI, I: Iron thief, Ana) 

There are 999 candles lit in the shrine, representing the 999 years of the Iron Kingdom (one (1) additional candle is added after the 1,000th anniversary). Even the statue of the Goddess was covered in candles, Ana having to navigate them to get to the heart in the Goddess’ hands. In Soul of Stars, the shrine’s tomb has been damaged and the shrine itself set alight during Malifare’s search for her heart, but efforts to reconstruct it were already evident when Ana came back to retrieve the heart from its hiding spot. 

Iliad 

Iliad is the second planet from the sun, the only to be described as having rings, and hosts the city of Zenteli, where the Solani ark crash-landed 1,000 years prior to the story. Iliad’s cities are said to be “Crime ridden” (HoI, I: Iron thief, Ana). Not much is known of Iliad other than it having fighting rings where Lenda fought and Di – and presumably the rest of the Dossier – was shot at by mercenaries there once, earning him a ding to his chassis. Iliad is also where Di visited a mechanic and found out his memory core was malfunctioning, a malady for which there was no fix. 

Zenteli: “Zenteli was a city unlike anywhere [Robb had] ever been before. It shone alabaster white in the sun, almost indistinguishable from the clouds surrounding it. The city was one of the last safe havens away from the HIVE and Messiers, because of an age-old treaty with the kingdom that barred kingdom influence in the Solani city. Located on the peak of a mountain range near the northern pole of Iliad, it should have been cold, but the sunlight kept the city warm and comfortable. Beneath the mountain was a valley where the original Solani ark had crashed over a thousand years ago. As the Dossier broke through the clouds, the sight of the ruined ship was monstrously large—more like the carcass of a living creature than a ship at all. … While the outer walls of the city were made of sandstone, most of the buildings built into the top of the mountain were made of marble. The city was clean and well kept, far older than most cities on Eros. It also had one of the only Iron Shrines that still stood untouched, a shard of white blending in with the rest of the buildings.” (SoS, II: Starless, Robb)

The most impressive feature of the city is the Shining Spire, which appears to function as a Solani palace. The Spire is multi-purpose, being the place where Jax was taken to the med bay, the crew were kept in prison cells, and the Elder counsel met. The spire features a lovely garden that overlooks the ark’s valley, which would have been lovelier if they’d visited when Jax wasn’t actively dying. Inside the spire, “Cloudy crystalline walls separated one room from another, the doors clear as glass. It was so bright, [Robb’s] eyes watered. The medical ward looked more like the inside of a star.” (SoS, II: Starless, Robb)
On every wall in the Spire are etched names, presumably of Solani who have died – perhaps only Solani royalty or those of importance, but that’s unconfirmed – and also Jax’s name, carved when he was on his deathbed. 

The Ark: Called the allahlav in the Old Language, “It had taken only an hour or so to get down the side of the mountain, with the help of a few pulleys and antiquated zip lines hidden in the foliage. The last bit of the trail was a hilly descent into the valley, and the ark already looked impossibly big. It had once housed hundreds of thousands of Solani—but Ana hadn’t realized how big it was until she was halfway down the mountain and the bones of the ship stretched from one side of the valley to the other, like the skeleton of some great beast of lore. It wasn’t a natural valley, but a crater made from its impact.

The ancient ark stood in all its ghostly glory. It was so much larger than Ana could have anticipated, its crystalline structure reminding her more of fossils found in the earth than a ship at all. Great vine-covered pillars curved inward, reaching five hundred feet in the air to make a sort of rib cage for a great beast. The ark spread out in both directions, so long it faded into the trees on either side. It was like nothing in the Iron Kingdom because it wasn’t made of iron or copper or gold. It was ivory and ancient.”

The ark was like a cool giant sky whale but also a controllable ship – even Elara isn’t entirely sure on the details – and was the last of its kind, transporting the last of the Solani from their galaxy to escape the Great Dark that sought to consume them. 

Haven’s Grave

It was a graveyard of sorts, halfway between Cerces and Iliad, where derelict ships congregated through some strange cosmic magnitism, and in the center of the graveyard was a waystation only a few knew about.” (SoS, IV: Starcrossed, Ana)

Cerces

Cerces, third from the sun, is a desert planet infamous for its mineral mines, and features two moons: Palavar and Colliope. Imprisoned people outfitted with vox collars – to prevent unions and uprisings – mine the gem-rich world until they die. “It was a planet of deserts, and underground cities built of topaz and emeralds, and the infamous prison mines that supplied rare jewels to the rest of the kingdom.” (HoI, II: Iron Ships, Jax) It’s also home to the Cercians, though little is described of them except that they wear markings – presumably tattoos – that indicate which clan they belong to.

Palavar

Cerces’s dark moon. It orbited around the third planet from the sun in such a way that it always fell into the planet’s shadow. No light reach it – and that meant no energy. Ships couldn’t function for long, tech would power down.” (HoI, II: Iron Ships, Jax) There are mentions of ruins being on the moon, hinted at being over 1000 years old, perhaps in an age when Cerces was in a different location compared to the sun the Palavar saw light. 

The Tsarina

Known later as The Murder Ship, the Tsarina was the only ship docked in the moonbay that wasn’t accounted for after the Rebellion. “The Tsarina was a Class-4 Armada retired thirty-four years ago for private use, but it did not show its age. On its side, in royal purple, was the Rasovant family crest, a nine-tentacled octopus.” (HoI, II: Iron Ships, Di)

“The halogen lights popped on one at a time, illuminating the long corridor. It was white, lined with silver doors glowing with red keypads. Locked. At first glance, the ship looked immaculate, but there was a thin layer of dust on the tiled floor, showing their boot prints as they traveled down the corridor. … The Tsarina could easily fit five Dossiers. At full capacity, the ship could house two, maybe three hundred people. She’d never been on a ship this big.” (HoI, II: Iron Ships, Ana)

The Dossier

“The Dossier was a ship of beauty. 

The Cercian-7 transportation vessel was from an era before Metals and Rebellions. Close to a century old, the black-and-chrome girl was retrofitted, so it looked like a patchwork of old parts and new spares. Too many firefights had run its three black solar sails ragged, and still it kept sailing like a dead man in the night. The ship wasn’t as fast as newer models, but it was quiet and durable and its solar engine purred sweet as nectar. It was finicky to fly, so most pilots couldn’t handle it properly, but Jax flew it like a dream. 

The cargo bay could fit a skysailer and crates for goods and their latest haul, connecting to an infirmary and an engine room. Up a rickety set of rusted stairs was the crew’s quarters, the galley, the captain’s room, and the cockpit where Jax spent most of his time. The ship constantly hummed from the golden solar energy core at its heart, a sweet and low song that Ana couldn’t sleep without, and the ship always smelled like recycled air, rust, and gunpowder. 

There was never enough privacy, the showers were always colder than the darkest recesses of space, and you could hear someone whisper from anywhere on the ship. But her bunk was warm, and her mattress lumpy to fit her curves, and the crew was like her—forgotten, exiled, orphaned, refugeed. Her family. Home.” (HoI, II: Iron Ships, Ana)

[katwriting]

Fic: Sound of your Heart

celebrity AU // chapter 1

When Magnus Bane returns to his favorite coffee shop after weeks of being out of town, he doesn't expect that place to be more packed than usual. He also doesn't expect sharing a table with a stranger and actually having a good time. And most importantly, he doesn't expect that stranger to be surprisingly funny, interesting and kind. But if Magnus learned one thing over the years, it's that life doesn't exactly ask for your opinion.

Word count: 2.7k | Read on AO3 (or continue reading below)

“Thank you, New York City! You guys were amazing, goodnight!”

Turning his back to the roaring crowd, Magnus walked off the stage, pulling out his earpiece as he walked down the steps. Someone handed him a bottle of water, which he gulped down in a matter of seconds before wiping a towel over his sweat drenched face.

Another show done. The first of two at Madison Square Garden, both sold out. And the second-to-last one before his well-deserved break. As Magnus walked through the backstage hallways back to his wardrobe, past posters that of upcoming concerts at this venue and several ones that announced his own two New York shows, he shook his head and couldn’t suppress a smile. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe how fast things had progressed ever since that fateful day about two years ago. How his career had basically sky-rocketed from working as a barista at a café and singing at weddings or company holiday parties to selling out Madison Square Garden two nights in a row.

The two reasons for that unreal twist in his life were already waiting in his dressing room when he got back. Magnus barely had the chance to drop his towel into the hamper in the corner when he was already enveloped in a warm, familiar hug and a kiss was dropped on his cheek, despite his sweaty, slightly disheveled state.

“Magnus Bane, rock star. Look at you,” Catarina said when she let go of him, still holding him at arm’s length and beaming. “Your mother would be so proud.”

Magnus smiled at her and tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. Instead, he looked at the second person that had been waiting in the dressing room, who was just getting up from the chair he’d made himself comfortable in. “And what’s your verdict, Ragnor?”

“The show was sold out, the crowd adored you as usual and I’m pretty sure the press will as well,” Ragnor replied, his British accent as heavy as ever. He shrugged and slipped his phone into his back pocket. “I suppose you did alright.”

Magnus grinned and then only too happily accepted a hug from Ragnor as well. As disinterested the reply may have sounded, it was hard to ignore the pride in Ragnor's eyes as he looked at Magnus, trying his best to remain as unfazed as possible.

Ragnor Fell and Catarina Loss were a married couple of almost ten years and had been ruling the New York music business for just as long. Their record company, Downworld Records, had the most popular artists of the city signed; every time Magnus attempted to count the Grammies, Oscars and Golden Globes those artists had won in total, he ended up with a headache.

Magnus would have never dreamed of getting to know them, let alone signing for their label. But ever since he had, things in his life had taken a U-Turn in the best possible way. With the help of those two heavyweights in the music business he had soon turned from flamboyant, outgoing barista-turned-singer to record-breaking superstar and taken the music world by storm. Magnus couldn't possibly more grateful for their help and support over the years.  

With a sigh, Magnus dropped on the couch that Ragnor had just stood up from, grabbing another bottle of water. “So, now that we have the business talk covered, let’s get to the essential stuff,” he said, then took another sip of water. “How’s Chairman?”

Apart from being the most amazing managers that Magnus could have ever dreamed of, Ragnor and Catarina also came with another pretty useful feature: Whenever Magnus went abroad, they took care of his one and only child, a tabby cat called Chairman Meow. When Magnus went on tour or had promo appointments left and right, he left Chairman with the two of them, knowing that he would get his darling kitty back happy and well (and likely a little more overweight than usual).

When he’d taken Chairman to his usual check-up after his world tour last year, the vet hat told him to feed Chairman less, which Magnus had just internally scoffed at. No pet of his would ever be overweight, Chairman was just a little…small for his weight, but fabulously so.

“Oh, he’s great,” Catarina retorted. “Last week when I wasn’t looking, he ate half of the tuna that I wanted to make for dinner.” “- and threw up all over our living room carpet half an hour later,” Ragnor threw in.

Magnus snorted. “Sounds like my son.”

Ragnor rolled his eyes, but smirked. “Damn right he is. That cat is just as extra as you are.”

Magnus just shrugged, getting up again and heading towards the showers. “What can I say, I raised him well.”

+++

Two days later, after sleeping for 12 hours straight and spending an hour in the bathroom to make sure that he didn’t totally like a zombie, Magnus set foot in his favorite place in the world besides the balcony in Catarina’s apartment: Pandemonium, the café he’d worked at before his music career had taken off. The tiny café was wedged in between a Chinese restaurant and a thrift store and there were maybe twenty tables but still, Magnus loved going there. He’d spent many hours there – working, writing songs, trying to make decisions, or simply taking a break from real life. Besides, the place sold the best coffee in Brooklyn, if not even entire New York. And since it was so tiny and kind of an insider tip, he didn’t risk running into fans, reporters or other people who could recognize him there.

Magnus hadn’t been to Pandemonium for a few months now as he had been on tour, but as soon as he stepped through the narrow door and into the cozy atmosphere, he felt himself relax. The off-white brick walls, the many different chairs and couches, none like the other, the scent of freshly roasted coffee beans and the music playing in the background never failed to make him feel like home.

What did, however, very much disturb that feeling of coming home was his first look around the room. More importantly, the realization that the entire place was packed with people. There were young parents trying their best to keep their kids from spilling their coffee, business people typing away on their laptops, their drinks all but forgotten – and then what seemed like a hoard of college kids, taking up the rest of the room.  

Magnus sighed. As much as he loved this place for its cozy atmosphere, the limited number of tables and seats did pose as a problem whenever he came here on a particularly busy day.

Nevertheless, he headed for the counter and ordered his coffee to go, already halfway expecting he would have to drink it on the go somewhere. Or alternatively in his own living room under the skeptical gaze that the Chairman seemed to reserve for whenever Magnus went out and didn’t come back with food or at least a treat for his cat.

Thankfully, at least the line at the counter wasn’t all that long so it didn’t take much time for the baristas to make his drink. Paper cup in hand, Magnus turned away from the cash desk, stuffed his wallet back into the inside pocket of his jacket and then scanned the room one more time, hoping against hope that the few minutes he had spent waiting for his coffee would have been enough for an empty table to appear somewhere – or at least one of the several college kids to realize that the Wi-Fi in this place was crappy for a reason and leave. And indeed, just as he scanned the room one last time, a couple who had been sitting at a tiny table in the far corner across the room rose from their seats, took their empty cups and turned to leave.

Bingo.

With quick, resolute steps Magnus navigated his way through the maze of furniture, laptop chargers, messenger bags and brief cases on the floor towards the now empty table and managed to snatch a seat, effectively cutting off two women’s way who had been walking towards the same table. With an (entirely fake) apologetic smile he sat down on one of the chairs and placed his cup on the table, then grabbed the magazine he had been carrying with him and tried to blend out the noise around him.

It worked surprisingly well for a while, despite the buzzing noise around him. He was halfway through a quite interesting piece about an up and coming local fashion designer, when a voice dragged his attention away and back to the real world.

“Excuse me?”

Suppressing a defeated sigh, Magnus put his magazine aside and looked up, already expecting to be met with the expectant and excited face of one of someone who had recognized him and was about to ask for a photo or an autograph. Instead, he looked into hazel eyes, hidden behind thinly framed glasses. They belonged to a guy that seemed to be in his twenties, maybe a few years younger than Magnus. He was wearing dark blue jeans and a white t-shirt underneath a well-worn leather jacket and had a dark brown messenger back slung across his shoulder.

“Can I sit here?” the stranger said, looking around as if he was checking if an empty seat had appeared somewhere, but then shrugged.

"Uh…sure,” Magnus replied, a little taken aback. He uncrossed his legs so the stranger would have some space and took his magazine off the table, making room for his new seat neighbor’s coffee.

The stranger took a seat and placed his mug on the tiny table between them. “I’m sorry, I wouldn’t normally do this. But this was literally the only free seat so…"

He shrugged, as if it the entire issue explained itself, and put his messenger bag down on the floor.

“It’s no problem. Actually, I haven't been here in a while. When did this place become so crowded? This used to be an insider tip," Magnus pondered and let his gaze roam through the room once more. Now that the guy sitting across from him had taken up the last empty seat, there was literally no space left.

Alec followed his gaze, then shrugged. “Honestly, I have no idea. I come here every few weeks when I'm in the neighborhood, and I didn't notice anything changing. I guess at some point some of those hipster college kids must have discovered the place and made it their most recent Instagram-worthy coffee place or something."

Magnus huffed out a laugh. From the looks of it, those hipster college kids must have told a bunch of their friends too. “Must have been something like that. Last time I was here, there was maybe one seat taken, not just one empty."

“I know, right?", Alec huffed. "I mean, I’m sure they’re all great kids, but the point of me coming to this particular place was so I can enjoy my lunch break in peace. Not in the company of seventeen thousand undergrads,” the stranger grumbled, packing his laptop back into his bag and pulling out a notebook instead.

This time, Magnus genuinely laughed. “I’ll drink to that.”  He picked up his cup and jokingly raised it in his neighbor's direction. He took a sip and then placed the cup on the table again. “I’m Magnus, by the way,” he added, holding out his hand a little awkwardly as the stranger was currently focused on a folder he had taken out of his bag.  

Clearly startled, the guy looked up from his notes. “Huh? Oh…yeah, hi. I’m Alec,” he said, quickly taking Magnus’ hand and shaking it, almost knocking over his coffee in the process.

Magnus smirked. “Nice to meet you, Alec.”

He was just about to ask Alec what job he was working that his lunch break had led him to a tiny coffee place in Brooklyn, when a woman who had been sitting a few tables over got up and left. Alec picked up on that, watched her leave and then turned back towards Magnus, frowning.

"I should probably…you know," Alec said, gesturing towards the now unoccupied table across the room.

“Oh, don’t bother. I could use some company.”

A surprised smirk ran over Alec's features. "Okay."

Over the course of the next half hour or so, Magnus learned that breaking with his habits from time to time wasn't that bad of an idea. Alec turned out to be quite decent company. He was more on the introverted side, a lot more reserved than Magnus, that much Magnus could tell. But when he did say something, it was either funny, smart beyond his ears or sarcastic to a T. From crowded coffee shops and the general unpleasantness of undergrad students their conversation soon moved on to more personal topics. Magnus learned that Alec worked in his parents’ publishing company and was being groomed to take over as CEO one day, which he described as rewarding but also quite challenging from time to time. Magnus, in return, told him some of the stories he always told people when they asked him to tell them a little about himself – how he’d always been fascinated by music, how Queen had been his favorite band when he was a kid and Freddie Mercury still was one of his biggest idols, whether it came to music or life in general.  

Lucky for Magnus, their conversation always shifted to a different topic before they could get to what he did for a living. That was, until Alec straightforward asked.

“You said you like music a lot. Do you work in music as well?”

Internally, Magnus let out a bunch of curses, most of which Catarina would have murdered him for in cold blood if he ever used them in public. Externally, he resolved to something a little less scandal-inducing. Smirking to cover up the shock on his face, he took a sip from his coffee which was barely more than lukewarm at that point but perfectly served as a measure to buy him some time. Time that he used to think and come up with a perfectly fine explanation.

“I do, actually,” he said, “I work for a record label here in New York. It's called Downworld Records."

Technically, that wasn’t even a lie – he did have a contract with Cat and Ragnor's label after all. Besides, not telling strangers everything about himself right away was not lying, right? It was just being responsible, thank you very much. However, considering Alec’s reaction, Magnus might as well have told him the whole truth straight away.

Alec nodded, but other than that seemed pretty unfazed by Magnus’ reply. “Never heard of it. But I don’t really listen to a lot of music and at work we focus on books, so I guess that’s no surprise.”

Magnus blinked. “You don’t?”

Alec shook his head and grabbed his own mug. “Not really. I mean, I do like instrumental pieces or some classic rock if the mood strikes. But other than that, I guess I prefer books to records.”

Magnus smirked and relaxed back into his seat. “Instrumental stuff and classic rock, huh? Well aren’t you something else, Alec.”

Their conversation then shifted to less potentially cover-blowing topics for Magnus. They kept on talking for another while, until Magnus excused himself to the bathroom. When he returned, ready to hear more about that hilarious story of Alec's siblings, he startled, then did a double take just to be sure he hadn't walked to the wrong table. But he hadn't – Alec was no longer there.  Alec's jacket and bag were gone and their table abandoned, save for a slip of paper tucked under the half-finished cappuccino Magnus had gotten only a few minutes ago. When Magnus picked up the little note, he found just a few words scribbled onto it in a barely readable handwriting.

Emergency call, had to run. Was good chatting with you, I really enjoyed having some company. A.

Magnus turned the sheet around, feeling a little disappointed when he found it empty. He sighed. “Me too, Alec. What a shame that you didn’t leave me your number.”

Smirking, he put the sheet into his bag, then picked up his stuff and headed towards the exit. The little break at the café had been undoubtedly fun, but now he had a cat to get home to.

[chrysolina]

Yes Mr officer ⇛ part one

A/n - I know this is slightly random but I had the idea and just had to burn it out into the open. Also, feedback would be very much appreciated on my work!!! I love hearing from y’all really!!

Summary - Welcome to Boston, the city of the Red Sox, the founding fathers and a good looking - yet bipolar - cop?

Word Count - 1.5k

Pairing - Cop! Chris Evans x fem! reader

Warnings - Nothing really, arguing, smoking

yes mr officer masterlist

The busy streets of downtown Boston never seemed to flare up the energy within your bloodstream as well as it did now as you cautiously grabbed the final cardboard box out from the moving van and thanked the driver for his assistance with getting all the boxes up to your new apartment. It was all what you had dreamed as a out-of-pocket student in College as you finished up your final semester as a student - goodbye books, studying and frat parties; hello real world.

Considering all you had been through in the past two years as you saved up for this exact apartment, you couldn’t actually believe you were here doing this, walking up the very same flights of stairs you wondered up with the landlord those three years ago. Everything was finally looking up for you - your family had settled down after the explosive divorce your parents went through and you had secured yourself a nice paying job not too far away from your residence, a lawyer attorney firm that was in desperate need of some well educated and well spoken staff to help settle cases - everything was perfect.

“Hey,” You called out to the stranger that stood in the centre of your living room, the door left wide open after their intrusion. “What are you doing in here?” Your snap was a little off-hand but who was this tall guy who was just standing in your room.

Your face paled once the man spun around and smiled at you cheekily, the flash of the police logo on his navy shirt and the badge and walkie-talkie that hung on his trouser belt made your stomach drop in an instant.

“Oh hey, sorry I didn’t mean to intrude ma’am - I was actually looking for you,” The tall and may you say handsome officer walked over to you and smiled at you again, this time easier than the last.

“Uh sorry - yes that’s fine officer, is everything alright?” You queried the tall bearded man with a worrisome eye and watched as he laughed at the use of the title.

“Yes everything is fine Miss,” The officer chuckled at the look on your face. “I’m not technically an officer yet ma’am, not until I clock in that is.” The man began to explain with a smooth deep voice that made your nerves calm down a bit. “I’m one of your neighbours across the way,” He nodded his head to the other end of the landing to the door with the writing 6 E in cursive on it.

“Oh I see,” You sighed with a small laugh and looked back to your neighbour with a smile, his walkie-talkie cutting through the slightly awkward silence between the two of you. “Well I guess I’ll be seeing around soon uh..” You trailed off and looked down to the label on his walkie-talkie and tried to look for his name  - Evans?

“The name’s Chris, and you are?” He smirked at your perceptive ways.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” You smiled and set the box down on the end table that stood next to the door. You watched Chris slide out and wander down the tiny landing to the small opening of a staircase, instead of just walking away he turned back to face you and tipped his hat slightly as a sign of thanks.

“I’ll see you around Miss Y/L/N, have a good day now.” And with that, he padded down the stairs and left you looking a little miffed in your undecorated apartment but still, it was a start - a hot new neighbour that was actually a cop, weirder things had happened to you before - this was just a small blip in the start of your new life - how bad could it be?

Apparently, worse than you imagined.

After an arduous day unpacking, organising and taking the odd phone calls from family members alike, all you wanted to do was to have a nice bubbly bath in the tranquility of your new home, watch a show or two on your laptop - the TV technicians weren’t coming until tomorrow - and have a long night's sleep.

After sliding the last box in the corner ready to be thrown away, you opened up the small window in the bathroom and began to run the bath, the bath bomb that sat still in its wrapping made you giddy with glee - finally, you could have a bath in the privacy of you own, actual house with no gross or mannerless students living with you - that was until the usual smell of tobacco rolled through the opening of the window and ruined the mood entirely.

You quickly shut the window and padded around to the balcony door in you kitchen and burst it wide open, you took one look to your left and one look to your right and caught the culprit red-handed - the officer guy, Chris Evans. Standing there in nothing but a pair of sweats and a tight fitting vest that accentuated his incredibly muscular arms that were leaning up against the railing, a cigarette in one hand his phone in the other - all whilst under the golden glow of the streetlamp below, he looked like a hero out of a hot and spicy telanovella. 

“Uh hey Chris,” You called out weakly from your spot by the door and suddenly flushed once his steely blue eyes met your Y/E/C ones.

“Hey Y/N.” He looked at you and then back out to the glittery skyline of the cool Boston night, his voice laced with such disregard it made your blood boil for a second - did he really have the nerve to act all dismissive when he was smoking outside your bathroom window? You hoped not.

“Uh what are you doing out here?” You began to fiddle with the latch of the door as you  watched Chris blow out a puff of smoke from his lips and look back down at his phone, rolling his steel-like eyes in the process.

“Could ask you the same thing.” He turned to look at you with such a cold demeure you were beginning to find it hard to believe he was the same man you met hours earlier, his eyes locking on yours so boredly it made you want to slap that look right of him.

“It smelt like cigarette smoke in my bathroom and I came to see where it was coming from, actually.” You partially snapped and furrowed your brows at him as he turned to rest his elbows and back on the balcony railings whilst rolling his eyes at you again. “I’m sorry but is there something wrong here?” You bit your tongue in fear of swearing.

“Oh no not really.” Chris chided in an overly-exaggerated manner that made you tire quickly. “I was just trying to smoke away my heartbreak but hey, can’t even do that now,” Chris hummed in question and looked back to you, he hoped you would just give up and go back inside like his old neighbour used to but little did he know, you weren’t going to stomach your pride so easily.

“Look, I never said you can’t smoke.” You sighed and rubbed your head at his twisted words. “And I was only going to ask you to move - not to stop or anything.” You smiled at him meekly in an attempt to bring him out from his ass - but it didn’t work. Chris only tightened his glare at you and threw his cigarette to the floor and stomped on it like a stubborn horse.

“Yeah and all I’m going to ask if I can be left in peace for five minutes to have a fucking cigarette but apparently not.” Chris just rubbed his bearded jaw and furrowed his brows tightly, a look of stress flashing over his features in ripples.

“You didn’t have to finish though. did you?” You quipped with a quirked eyebrow.

“Maybe but I’m pretty sure a girl like you would complain about my smoking even if it was on the other side of the balcony.” You really tried to think good and hard about what Chris meant by a ‘girl like you’ but you just couldn’t think of anything - but anger.

With a huff of fatigue, you threw your lot in and decided not to deal with the asshole across the way now when there was a bath to be had. “Y’know what, if you wanna be an asshole - fine. Do so by all means but don’t come asking me for any extra beers or packs of cigarettes - like you guys usually do.” You snapped ferociously and turned back inside, slamming the balcony door as you did so.

The absolute nerve of him huh? One minute he’s a chivalrous, good looking cop the next, he’s a hellbent asshole whose main priority is to upset and aggravate you - nice. Either way, when you returned back to the bathroom and slid the window open again, he seemed to have vanished and the bath had run to the perfect temperature. 

But what you didn’t know was that Chris sat - as you said - on the other side of his balcony in his aged deck chair repeating your words over and over in his head and wondering how he had fallen to such a place than to say those things to his new neighbour. 

A/N - If anyone would like to see more possible parts on their dash, please let me know and inspire me to write a little! Also, if you’d like to be tagged don’t forget to ask via asks/dms, I don’t wanna miss you ):

Tags - @patzammit @multireality @coffeebooksandfandom @tacohead13 @youreahandsomedevil @thisismysecrethappyplace @its-a-pretty-interesting-wall

[louisfrecklesss]

LCH | Louisentine [3]

Description: After Violet gives Clementine some information about Louis, she takes it upon herself to confront him. However, Louis proposes an idea hoping Clementine agrees to it.

Words: 1,460

Ship: Clementine x Louis 

Warnings: there’s none, maybe second-hand embarrassment for our boy Louis

Genre: Fluff, High School AU

A/N: I hope you all aren’t sick of this fanfic yet but some said they wanted this one out of the poll that I put so, here it is. I hope you like it, this is so saucy I like where this fiction is going. Also, it’s almost midnight and I have college tomorrow so I don’t know how I’m going to wake up and go but I don’t want too. Small rant sorry. Gotta love Louis and his amazing freckles, thank you fo reading! yep, I did it again and wrote this before I uploaded it, turns out it’s now the day after and that day of college i’m talking about has happened already. I do have work tomorrow though. Ignore me, have a nice day!

CHAPTERS

[1] [2] [3] [4]

__

The library seems to be their new hang out place, Clementine sits waiting for her friend Violet to join her while she stuff her face with cheese puffs. This has been their routine for weeks, which Violet normally just walks in with some type takeout food and books for the subject they’re studying, but today the excited teen ran into the library slamming the door in the process earning wild shushes everywhere. Clementine sat up on her chair putting out her hand to grab the takeout that Violet doesn’t have; the look Clementine shoots at Violet is wild. 

“Don’t kill me Clem, I have some tea instead.” The girl sits down next to Clementine opening her laptop typing some stuff so fast that Clementine couldn’t even follow what she was writing. 

“I don’t want tea, I want food.” Clementine folds her arms against her chest taking in a deep breath before exhaling put her nose letting out the longest exhale known to man. “It’s not really tea, Clems. It’s someone’s juice.”

Clementine rolls her eyes at all the ‘slang’ words that Violet has grown to start using around her. Nevertheless, she looks at the screen watching as Violet slams enter and files labelled ‘LCH’ start to pop up. 

“And I present to you, Louis Charles Hammington.” Violet spreads her arms out wide with a large grin on her face. She didn’t want to brag but she knew she did a great job finding this. 

“What the fuck is all of this Vi?” Clementine scrolls through all the files that Violet has here, which is not as much as you would think it is. Maybe about fifteenth which most of the were labelled ‘pre-school Louis’.

“It’s like every single thing you can find about your new boyfrien-”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

Violet’s eyes said otherwise as she smiles rolling them slightly. “Oh, we’ll see.”

“There’s nothing about his childhood?”

“Oh yes there is!” More shushes were passed Violets way which she waves them off before continuing. “Look at all these baby pictures.”

Violet clicks on one of the ‘pre-school Louis’ folders which reveals a picture of Louis without the dreads and just his afro hair, quite big and healthy. He doesn’t look too happy as he has many car toys in his hand and a small box next to him so they both assumed he was being told to out his toys away in the kindergarten. His freckles were still very light but you could still pick them out in the picture which made Clementine grin.

“He’s so cute.”

“Right right,” Violet nods before opening up the main folder that she wanted to open, it had every single school history of Louis. “But look at this, been to four previous high schools before this one and he wasn’t kicked out like he tells everyone. He left because he’s been moving house.” Violet points at the reasoning written underneath each of the schools on the list. 

“Woah.”

“Woah indeed Clementine, woah indeed.”

“No, look at this.” Clementine points at a sentence that is written below their high school that is currently on the list. “He takes Performing Arts and Music?”

Violet bust out laughing that she couldn’t hold in, occasionally saying that he’s a ‘drama boy’ while slamming her hand on the table several times which made the librarian come over to the table and ask the two friends to leave. 

“I’ve totally got to find him Vi, it’s my chance to get back at him for what he said to me.”

“You go girl.” Violet stands up grabbing her laptop and bag before her smile drops a little and turns to Clementine sheepishly. “What did he say?”

“That he wants to rip my skirt off, Vi keep up with it.”

Violet puts her hands up in defence backing off jokingly to which Clementine pushes Violet over softly.

“Personally, I think it’s all an act Clementine. Now we know that he takes fucking Performing Arts, he’s a performer. He’s not a fuck boy, he’s a little boy.”

“I agree Vi, go home and I’ll call you when I have some tea.” Violet laughs at the fact that Clementine is starting to use the same ‘slang’ as her. “Oh and Vi?”

“Yeah?” She turns around holding the door open waiting for Clementine to answer before she leaves.

“How did you get all this about Louis?” 

There was a long intensive stare before Violet did something that Clementine couldn’t even catch fast enough. Violet ran out of the library.

~

“I’m looking for Louis?” Clementine shuffles her bag on her shoulder moving around a little in a spot as she waits for the girl to finish searching the Performing Arts room for Louis. The redhead girl returns with no one next to her making Clementine a little nervous. 

“He’s not here, have you tried the music room? He goes there after this session her most times.” The girl leans against the crossing her arms. “Or maybe you should stop being a fucking stalker, Clementine.” Clementine raises her eyebrows screw facing slightly at the girl.

“How do you know my name then, stalker?” The girl is taken aback by this but quickly composes herself. 

“Wild guess, it’s not my fault that Louis talks about you all the fucking time.” She clears her throat before making her voice deeper. “I need to leave so I can find Clementine; I dropped Clementine home yesterday so I’m tired, Clementine blah blah blah. No one fucking cares!” 

Clementine couldn’t help but smile slightly before wiping it off, she doesn’t even finish the conversation with this girl before giving her a tight smile and walking off. 

The music department and the Performing Arts were very close to each other, all Clementine had to do is turn a couple corners and she was right in front the music room door. There is a small music room which she assumes is for rehearsing and a bigger one with stage lights, chairs and goes further back than she can see; for performing obviously. 

Lost in admiring the hall, she didn’t see the lonely boy sitting on the big stage at the piano playing a rather sad, melodic tune. His dreads fell almost perfectly in front of his eyes, long enough that you couldn’t see the expression on his face. His iconic long coat draped over the stool he sat on, foot on the pedal pressing every so often. 

Fed up of admiring from the glass on the door, Clementine decided to walk into the room not catching the young mans attention. He continues playing closing his eyes briefly before the music stops all of a sudden. The golden eyed girls applauses echoed through the whole room; Louis jumps in his seat grabbing his chest in the process. 

“You fucking scared me princess.”

“Sorry, prince charming.”

She walks up onto the stage joining him on the stool, she felt him shift in his place however he shot her a small smile. His eyes didn’t remain as he finds his feet ever so interesting in his moment. 

“Performing Arts huh?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “I guess I’m just not who everyone thinks I am.”

“Why lie?” He shoots his head to look at her, he can see that she’s genuinely concerned about why he’s doing this, at least he hopes she is.

“It’s not lying, just pretending, acting.” 

“Like Violet said, I want to know who you really are Louis. Not who you pretend to be.” The fact that she used his real name and not the nickname that she gave him shows that she is serious, that’s what she wanted him to see. Louis eyebrows knit together as he blows air out of his nose, he wants to be completely honest with her but he doesn’t know how. 

“My friends, Marlon? Mitch? I met them at my old school, they were the only friends I had and they wanted to be these rebellious kids and I needed friends, I wanted friends.” He shakes his head knowing that his saying isn’t justified enough just yet. 

“That makes no sen-”

“When you’ve been through what I have, you’ll do anything just to fucking fit in okay?” His eyes water slightly making Clementine panic, she places her hand on his knee giving a reassuring look. Louis eyes the hand on his knee for too long, Clementine goes to remove it but Louis grabs her hand turning towards her more. 

“Be my girlfriend.”