#regretting that I failed to come up with a good excuse to avoid this wedding

[elliethefroggy]

When space tourism becomes an affordable thing, destination weddings are going to become that much more unbearable.

Why set off to Hawaii (leave Hawaii alone; it’s been through enough), when you can visit the Martian colonies.

The red planet a bit too mainstream for you? Looking for something a bit more grandiose? How about you hope a few planets further away and enjoy Saturn’s stormy light shows?

Scared that gigantic diamond ring on your finger will be outshone by Saturn’s diamond rains? Why not enjoy some champagne while witnessing the birth of a star in the Eagle Nebula? Who cares how upset your guests will be about having to travel 7,000 light years to attend. They should be grateful they got invited at all.

[thenerdykneazle]

Sallow Soul - The Funeral

Summary: Sebastian is struggling to cope with the loss of his twin. He has many regrets, not the least of which is not getting to say goodbye. Another is sacrificing his relationship with MC because he refused to give up on dark magic. He seeks out some comfort when MC invites him to stay with her and Ominis. Part of a series but this chapter works as a one-shot.

Sebastian Sallow x F!MC

Background Ominis Gaunt x Anne Sallow

Warnings: 18+, sexually explicit content, aged-up characters, angst, hurt/comfort, death, grieving

Word Count: 3218

Read on AO3. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. MC's perspective (Kindred Spirits).

Part 1: The Funeral

Gone. That was the word echoing through his brain. His twin sister was gone. The last he’d seen her, she was radiant, laughing and dancing at her wedding. Now her corpse was buried under the cold, freshly turned earth he knelt upon. He’d watched the casket be lowered and the dirt packed down, but it all still felt impossible.

That was about the only “feeling” Sebastian had, though. He was utterly numb, and not just from the bitter January weather. He’d cried when he got the news of her death. He’d cried as he hugged Ominis. He’d cried reading the letter Anne had left him. He’d cried over her body during the viewing. He’d cried and cried and cried, and now he had no tears left.

He had no purpose left, either. He’d spent the last six months searching for a cure or treatment or anything that would prolong Anne’s life and health. And he’d failed. He’d failed his sister, and her husband – his best friend. He’d ruined his own relationship refusing to limit his options to the “good” branches of magic, and he had nothing to show for it. He couldn’t even look her in the eye, which was difficult to avoid as she was a constant at Ominis’s side. That only served to remind him of how he had failed as a friend, too.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he might’ve thought it was the spirit of Anne herself if not for the warmth of it seeping into him. “I’m going to take Ominis home. We’ll come visit her again in the morning,” MC said softly. She paused, probably waiting for a response from Sebastian. He had none. “Do you know where you’re staying tonight?”

Sebastian shook his head, but he didn’t know whether she was looking at him. He did know he already missed her hand on his shoulder, as she’d only gripped it for a moment to get his attention. “No,” he croaked – between crying and not speaking for hours, his voice was unrecognisable. There was his uncle’s old house, but he hated going there.

“You can stay in Ominis’s guest room,” MC offered.

Sebastian looked up at her curiously, instantly noting her red nose and cheeks from the cold and bloodshot eyes from the grief. He still found her devastatingly beautiful. “I thought you were staying with him,” he said dimly. His voice was still rough but slowly warming up.

She nodded, and her kind gaze felt piercing with the memory of their past. He saw every mistake reflected back at him in those sombre eyes. He wanted to look away. It was uncomfortable to face what he’d done. He forced himself to look, though. “I can spend a night on the settee,” she said simply.

Sebastian felt his indignation swell. He would not let a lady sleep on the sofa while he took her bed. However, he also did not want to be alone, whether in his uncle’s house or elsewhere. He’d just lost half of himself, and the wound of it threatened to take the rest of him with her. “I’ll take the sofa,” he said.

MC opened her mouth to argue, but Sebastian gave her a quelling look. She sighed. “Fine.”

He said goodbye to his sister’s grave before standing and brushing himself off. They walked with Ominis to his home. MC heated some leftover food for dinner that they all picked at meagrely. Ominis excused himself to go to bed shortly after. He’d had an even longer day than Sebastian had. He could only imagine how many hundreds of times people had apologised to him for his loss that day – and he’d had an endless stream of mourners himself. It seemed all of the students and teachers who’d attended Hogwarts during Anne’s tenure had come out. Not to mention the residents of Feldcroft.

Ominis headed upstairs, where there were two bedrooms. He hadn’t been able to sleep in the master since Anne’s passing. Instead, he stayed in the upstairs guest room, while MC slept in the mother-in-law suite they’d put in their basement for her frequent visits.

Sebastian and MC sat in silence as they took occasional sips of liquid from their bowls of stew. Sebastian wanted to say something – many things, in fact – but he had no idea where to start. I can’t believe she’d gone was too trite. I’m sorry didn’t begin to cut it. I miss you felt almost disrespectful. He had no right to miss her. He knew that. Though, it didn’t stop him from doing so, anyway.

“I miss her,” he said, glancing up from his bowl.

MC pursed her lips sadly as her brow furrowed from the tension of withheld emotion. She nodded in agreement, though Sebastian wished she’d speak – or even just look at him.

“I’ve missed Ominis, too. And–” Sebastian cut himself off. No right, he reminded himself.

She looked up from her soup, eyeing him warily.

“I’m sorry,” he said earnestly. “I just…” Regret everything. The words were inadequate. A paltry penance for his sins.

Ominis had begged him to stay away from dark magic. In her final words to him, Anne had said she understood why he felt the need to use “any means necessary” in his search for a cure but that she still wished “things could have been different.” MC had given him a choice: let go of dark magic or let go of her. He couldn’t have both. He’d been so angry with her when she made him choose. He felt she was making him choose between his love for her and the chance to save his sister. It was only now that he considered that maybe the dark arts had never had the power to cure Anne, and MC could see what he had refused to.

“I shouldn’t have left,” he said finally.

Sebastian watched as MC’s expression twisted with conflicting emotions. He knew she had loved him once. They had expressed it to each other plenty of times during their relationship. It felt like a lifetime ago, though, in reality, less than a year had passed since their split. Far less than the amount of time they had spent together. Time Sebastian now felt like he had stolen from her.

He was certain MC must hate him now. The tension in her face and body as she sat across from him seemed to support the idea. He didn’t blame her, though he couldn’t fathom ever not loving her. He was certain she had captured his heart the moment she had knocked him on his arse during their first DADA class together. That version of himself seemed like an innocent, naïve child now after everything that had happened over the last 3+ years. But the current Sebastian Sallow was no less smitten.

Gods, he missed her. He wished he could wrap her up and just hold her in his arms. He wished he could kiss her until the pain faded. He wanted to melt into a puddle at her feet and beg her to take him back because he couldn’t stand being without her anymore.

He would’ve tried it, too – after all, life could be unpredictably short. He was more than willing to sacrifice his pride for a second chance with the woman he loved. But he had only had his revelation when he heard of Anne’s death. What changes had he made? He was still the same man who left six months ago. What was to stop him from being so stupid again? From hurting MC again? He couldn’t risk that.

“I wish you hadn’t,” MC said sadly.

Sebastian chewed his lip. “I’m sorry,” he said. “For leaving. For not listening to you. Just…for everything.”

For a second, he thought she was about to cry as her face crumpled. She regained her composure quickly. “I should get you some blankets and pillows,” she stated suddenly as she stood up.

Sebastian stood, as well. “I’ll help,” he said, knowing it was a bad idea.

MC searched his eyes for a long moment. “Okay,” she replied breathily, and he could have sworn he saw her gaze drop to his lips just before she turned away from him.

He followed her down to the basement where spare linens were kept. And where her bedroom was. He waited outside her door as she walked in.

MC pulled a heavy duvet and fluffy pillow out of her closet and walked back to him. “These should do,” she said a bit awkwardly as she held them out.

Sebastian let his fingers brush over the backs of her hands as he took the plush bedding from her. It made her breath hitch. “Thank you,” he said softly.

MC used one of her newly empty hands to grip her door, but she didn’t close it even a fraction. She just nodded as she held Sebastian’s gaze. His fell to her lips when her tongue darted out to wet them. She must’ve noticed, because her cheeks coloured red almost instantly.

“Good night, MC,” he said. I love you. It used to be routine. He said it – got to say it – almost every night back when she slept in his bed more than her own. It was still true, but he had lost the privilege to express it.

“Good night, Sebastian,” she replied meekly.

Sebastian found that he couldn’t will his feet to put distance between them. He should go upstairs – or at least say something – but he just lingered, soaking up her presence and pretending he didn’t have to leave it.

Eventually, MC’s brows furrowed in concern. “Did you need something else?” she asked.

It was almost physically painful for Sebastian to see her express worry over him; he didn’t deserve it. “Sorry,” he said earnestly, feeling guilty for having lingered when he shouldn’t’ve come down in the first place. He clutched the bedclothes tighter to himself. “No, I just…Sorry. I’ll go.”

“Wait,” MC implored as he had begun to turn. He looked back to see her chewing her bottom lip anxiously. She took a steadying breath. “Stay.”

Sebastian wished he could say he hesitated – or thought at all about anything even remotely resembling a consequence – but the instant MC stepped back to let him through her door, he dropped her bedding and pounced on her.

He held her face in both hands and pressed his lips to hers as his body pressed her into the wall. She groaned into his mouth almost immediately. Her hands anchored in his hair and pulled his head down toward her. They clawed each other closer, as if the mere idea of any separation was utterly abhorrent.

The contours of her body against his. Her heat sinking into his skin. The wet slide of her tongue. It all felt like home. Like he wasn’t as alone as he had feared that he was now that Anne was gone.

MC pulled him to her bed, both shedding their clothing as they went. She was down to her underwear as she crawled onto the mattress. Sebastian was as well, as he crawled on top of her. He kissed over every bare inch of skin above her waist as his hands roamed freely. He groaned with need as he slid them up under the cups of her bra to feel her breasts before ridding her of the garment altogether.

Sebastian felt an aching longing in his gut that refused to let him turn back. He had missed this. Missed her. Being close to her. Touching her. Kissing her. Gods, it was intoxicating to be with her. He grabbed her right hand, lacing the fingers of his left hand with it as he pinned the appendage down above her head. His right hand palmed her breast, while his tongue explored her mouth.

Sebastian’s hips ground against hers, pinning his aching cock between their bodies.

“Fuck, I love you,” he admitted, making her elicit a low moan in response.

He regretfully, though for a very good reason, released her hand (and her tit) in favour of working her knickers off. He was expedient but gentle in their removal. Once he had MC bared, he nearly ripped his own pants off. He couldn’t wait to have the gorgeous witch pressed against him again. He suppressed the throbbing desire to be inside of her immediately, and he stroked his fingers through her slick folds.

“Seb, I need all of you,” she whined in the middle of him pumping her full of his middle and ring fingers. “Please.”

She was just as desperate for their union, apparently. Sebastian had never been one to deny MC – at least, not when she begged so beautifully like that. Besides, in his current state of need, he had no self-control to make her entreat him further. He needed all of her, too.

She whimpered as he withdrew his fingers, but it was followed by a gasp as he slid his length inside her. Sebastian groaned from deep in his chest at feeling her wrapped around him again. He let their chests stay pressed together, sliding an arm under her back to hold her close. He was probably close to smothering her as he drew back just at his hips before thrusting back inside of her. He nearly lost his composure when MC moaned as he filled her once more.

She clawed into his back and wrapped her legs around him, holding him tight to her front. Gods, he loved when she was so needy for him.

“I missed you,” MC hissed low in his ear.

Sebastian swore as he exhaled. It was almost embarrassing how easily she could have him coming undone. He began moving again – starting with slow, deep plunges into her that quickly grew to rapid snaps of his hips. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you feel me between your legs for the rest. Of. Your. Life,” he vowed, punctuating his last few words with the rhythm of his thrusts.

“Gods, yes,” she moaned in reply, throwing her head back.

Sebastian devoured her exposed throat, littering her silken skin with bites and bruises. MC’s nails bit into his shoulder blades, but it only spurred him on. He could feel her core clenching around his cock as his pelvis ground against hers on every drive into her. He wondered if she could come like that – just from the force of him fucking her. The thought almost sent him over the edge himself, but he held on.

He focused on the angle of his hips, making sure he hit the spot deep inside her that always had her keening, while pressing against her clit once he was buried deep inside.

“I love you,” MC gasped after a long moan escaped her lips.

Sebastian groaned. The little minx was trying to make him lose it – she was entirely too lucid. He fucked her even faster, set on making her so cock drunk that she forgot her own name.

A string of curses left MC’s lips as her back arched off the bed. She writhed under Sebastian as he pounded into her mercilessly. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Seb, I–”

She cut herself off with an utterly obscene moan as she tensed and twitched under him. Her cunt squeezed him like she was trying to choke the very life out of him. She looked so thoroughly wrecked that Sebastian hit his climax, as well, unable to hold back any longer.

His cock pulsed, releasing his seed as he buried himself inside MC – filling her until it spilled out of her abused cunt. Sebastian kissed her, sliding his tongue into her mouth and owning it like the rest of her.

“I missed you, too,” Sebastian panted once he broke the kiss.

MC chuckled, puffing air out over his cheeks. “I could tell,” she said cheekily, squeezing her core around his cock still buried inside it.

Two could play at that game. Sebastian began thrusting lazily in and out of her. She moaned before tangling her hands in his hair to pull him back into a kiss as she started to meet his thrusts. Fucking insatiable, she was. He would be lying if he said he didn’t find it addicting that she could never get enough of him.

She stilled him by wrapping her legs back around him, holding him buried inside her as she kissed all over his face. He smiled down at the affectionate witch. Eventually, she released him, and Sebastian finally pulled out of her. He rolled off of her and onto his side, pulling her back against his chest. He cupped a possessive hand between her thighs and nuzzled into the crook of her neck, placing soothing kisses on the marks he’d left.

She let out a pleased sigh. “I think you were right,” she said.

“About?” Sebastian asked, propping himself on an elbow to look down at her.

“Feeling you here–” She rocked her hips into his hand. “–forever.”

Sebastian couldn’t help but smirk. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said, stroking his hand over her – just a light, loving graze.

She twisted back to put a hand on his cheek. “I wouldn’t have it with anyone else,” MC replied with a gentle smile as her shining eyes bored into him.

A jolt ran through him. Excitement and fear. Love and pain. He did love her. He wanted to be with her. But could he? Guilt began to seep in as he considered where they could go from there.

MC had already settled back into the bed, her back pressed against his chest. Her breathing was calm and her body relaxed. Sebastian, however, was spiralling.

He had already broken her heart once. They’d been together for years, and he’d left her. He felt like a shell of the person he’d been then. How could he possibly do any better now? He pulled MC closer to himself. He didn’t want to give her up, but he never should’ve let himself back into her life. He knew it was inevitable that he’d hurt her again. He should’ve stayed upstairs – stayed away.

Sebastian knew he had fucked up. There was nothing to be done for it now. He could hurt her a little now or much worse later, but he knew there was only one way things would end: in disaster. He couldn’t love her well enough when he had Anne giving him girl advice and trying to convince him to make better choices – like giving up dark magic. Now he felt so lost and empty, and he would only destroy MC trying to fill the bottomless void inside himself with her. He had to leave – go far away where he couldn’t come crawling back to take more from her.

Sebastian hugged MC tighter still. Her breaths were deep and even. She was asleep. A tear slipped down his cheek as he pressed a kiss to her shoulder. I’m so sorry.

He squeezed his eyes shut, memorising the feel of her in his arms, her scent, and her warmth. Then, he carefully slipped out of bed. Sebastian gathered his clothes, redressed, and left while it was still dark. He only stopped at Anne’s grave to apologise one last time before leaving Feldcroft forever.

Next chapter.

[inkofyoonkoo]

All the room in the world | 1

🌸 Wordcount: 9k

🌸 Genre: Fluff/angst | Childhood friends!AU ∘ Friends to lovers!AU

🌸 Min Yoongi x Reader

🌸 Description: After four years, you go back to Daegu for Taehyung’s wedding. However, things aren’t as you left them… and Min Yoongi either.

🌸 A/N: (For Yoongi’s birthday ♥) This is one of the very first stories I wrote about Yoongi, and I cherish it with all my heart. The second (and last) part will follow soon :)

Hope you’ll enjoy it!

Good read ♥

The countdown to your personal ‘ Doomsday’ –as you dramatically wrote on the calendar- started last September with a letter that screamed ‘danger!’ since you noticed the sender: Kim Taehyung.

You felt guilty just by reading his name, while these last four years made of missed phone calls, forgotten messages and never-sent-letters cascaded on your shoulder all at once, to the point where you almost threw it in the trash.  However, boosted by your curiosity -and for that thin voice that whispered you: if you don’t like what you read, you can pretend you never received it - you finally opened it:

‘Since you skipped my graduation and all my birthdays, it’d be a huge honor to have you at my wedding. It’s on the 21 st April. C’mon (Y/N), you’ve got eight months to come up with a new good excuse to stand me up. Surprise me!’

You admit you laughed. You also admit that you immediately started to search for a good pretense that could permit you to avoid this torture; you weren’t emotionally or mentally equipped to open again a bracket of your life you thought locked for a long time. On the other hand, the simple thought that Taehyung would never forgive you for not being there during the most important and special day of his life made you panic, so you hadn’t any brainwave in the next months -spent in a mixture of joy and anxiousness-.

‘It’s just for a few days and then I’ll go back to my usual life,’ you repeated yourself like a mantra.

And when the time to close your small flat in Seoul came, you put on that perfect smile you practiced yourself to wear in these months only to let them see that never, not even for a second, you felt sorry for leaving Daegu.

    You catch a breath and grip the bag tightly when you get off the taxi, breathing deeply into the morning air of that city that for many years it’s been the scenery of every little event of your existence.

A cascade of bittersweet memories locked in a closet of your mind comes pouring out when you look around the bustling area, the attention caught by the bus just stopped on the other side of the street: it’s the 724 and you used to take it to go to school or to the center, side by side to a small bean with odd dyed hair who slept all the time, resting his head on your shoulder.

Actually... one regret about Daegu exists, and you’re going to meet him soon.

Your heart beats faster when you replay in your head the only scene you always think of when someone asks you about this place: sweaty hands holding yours, bottom lip taught between white teeth, short blond hair smooth like silk, droopy liquid brown eyes engulfing into yours…

The last time you tread these few meters, the only boy you freely let step into your life hugged you tightly, before whispering in your ear with a cracked voice that Daegu would never be the same without you.

His name was Min Yoongi, he was your best friend, a failed love… And you haven't heard from him since you abandoned this place.

❀❀❀

Taehyung’s home is five minutes by foot from your own, but it takes you more than twenty minutes to see the brick building where you used to play hide and seek. You’ve stopped more than once along the way, paralyzed by the simple awareness that you’re going to sink again in his long almond eyes; but eventually, you’ve forced yourself to not call a taxi and so here you are, staring at the entrance while a mild queasiness starts brewing in your stomach.

When you ring the doorbell, you’re still in your own world, repeating yourself all those small talks prepared on the way: ‘Hi Tae! Good to see you! So you're finally getting married! Me? I’m doing great! I’m so sorry I haven’t been so in touch but you know how it goes: my job requires so much time that—Oh, I’d really like to stay a bit more but I think I left the oven on in Seoul—!’

Taehyung’ deformed shape through the rippled glass door approaching you shuts your mental babble up, and in the exact instant he opens, your mind becomes a wasteland.

“Who—” words get trapped in his lungs as his stare widens.

In all these months, you’ve believed this was as good a way as any for Tae to get back at you for swiping your friendship under the carpet. So you're prepared to face whatever comes next:  tomatoes and eggs on your face, a door slammed on your nose…

“(Y/N)! Oh God, it's you! It's really you!”

… But that unexpected smile now shining on his face catches you off guard.

You raise a hand. “Hi Tae, it’s good— Uho !”

The boy wraps you into a bone-crushing hug, so tight that you can barely sense the ground beneath your feet. “You’re here!” he pulls apart, squeezing your shoulders. “I was starting to believe you’d call me and invented an excuse, as usual!”

“I couldn’t find a good one in seven months, I doubt I could’ve done it in five minutes,” you admit, jokingly, following him inside.

He gets your jacket off and hangs it over the hanger, glancing at you with a light smirk. “So…”

You let your sweaty fingers crawl on your knees. “So… You’re getting married.”

“It seems so.”

A veil of embarrassment falls upon you and it’s too thick to be ripped with a warm smile or a ‘sorry’. All the apologizes whirling in your mind until today lose meaning now that he’s here before you, in flesh and bones, scanning you with a kind of stare you can’t interpret anymore.

Then, that same force that was almost making you go back home, makes its way into your whole body and climbs up your throat, opening your mouth way before you could think of something logical to say. “Tae, listen. Forgive me for being a kind of ghost in these years, I—“

“Don’t!” he presses a finger on your stretched lips. “Tonight, I don’t wanna hear anything.” His smile widens. “I’ll pretend nothing happened. Today’s too important to ruin it with a fight.” He giggles. “And I’ve got a week to get back at you for being a disaster.”

After a brief moment of astonishment, you exhale a small chuckle. “I’m cool with it.”

You were so scared that he could be mad at you to forget a simple tiny thing: he’s about to take an important step in his life and you’re finally here, living this moment with him; that’s what counts the most.

Tae rests an arm around your shoulders and guides you into the small dining room full of parents and friends –his mother almost killed you with her tight hug and an avalanche of questions, first of all: “Why is a beauty like you here without a boyfriend?”, ugh!- but amidst all those unfamiliar faces, the only one you’re curious (and frightened) to see is nowhere to be found.

You wonder how Yoongi will react when the pair of you will finally meet.

You admit you often fancied bumping into him in Seoul: while being at the store, in the subway, while drinking a coffee on your way home… Yet it never happened, and it assumed slowly but steadily the shape of a fantasy comparable to the billions you had when you were younger -in which you met your favorite singer and lived with him exciting adventures-.

Anyway, you aren’t here for him. You’re here for the marvelous man beside you and for his gorgeous half on the other side of the room, busy chatting with some relatives. You wave at her, when she pinpoints you next to a table full of sandwiches and sweets, and she catapults over you, wrapping her thin arms around you.

“(Y/N)! I’m so glad you’re here!”

“Me too.” You hug her back. “Congratulations!”

Euna is beautiful as the last day you saw her, with a jumpsuit on and a luggage full of souvenirs bought in Seoul. You thought she was just another fleeting soul in Tae’s universe –if your love life has always been catastrophic, he’s always been a step ahead- and now she’s here, showing you her engagement ring.

“Well well.” You smirk. “Looks like someone’s making money here.” You give him a sidelong glance.

Tae shoves back his brownish hair. “Only the best for the wife-to-be of the ‘ Calvin Klein’s diamond’ .”

You grimace. “Oh, shut up. Kim WooBin’s more handsome.” You grin when he tries to retort. “Aha, today’s too important to ruin it with a fight.” The left corner of your mouth quirks up as he curses between his teeth before making his rounds with the guests, leaving you two chitchat.

You focus on Euna, now busy recounting every aspect of their wedding. She’s so enthusiastic you’re almost forgetting where you are, how much time passed, how many things you lost willingly…

You’re about to think that there was no need to spend so many sleepless nights finding an excuse to skip this event, that she abruptly says: “Tae told me about Seokjin. I’m so sorry…” and you immediately wish for this week to end instantly. “I can’t believe he left you after all these years! What a jerk…” she huffs, tucking her long dark hair behind the ears.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine…” you twiddle with your bracelets. “And, anyway, I’ve someone. I got a cat named Mochi and believe me, he’s better than a man: he’s silent, sweet, he doesn’t get me mad. He’s a bit dumb but still lovable,” you conclude with a rather unsuccessful attempt of a smile, at which she responds with a dim one.

She’s about to reply but the doorbell ring saves you from an awkward conversation.

“Gees, he’s always late.” She looks heavenward.

“Who?”

“Yoongi, of course!” She puts her hands on her hips, smirking at the guy who just walked in, bjsy bickering with Tae. “You’re late!”

“Sorry, I didn’t hear the alarm clock.”

You stiffen at the sound of a voice  raspier than you remembered, and the sight of the boy standing in the doorway snaps you back to reality.

‘Yoongi…’

You barely think of his name, scared that he might disappear only by pronouncing it out loud...

He seems a bit dazed, as soon as his eyes lay on you, but he eventually manages to say: “Hi (Y/N)…” while a dim smile etches itself on his face.

The blond-haired boy of your adolescence has eclipsed behind a tall man with broader shoulders, messy raven hair with an undercut and more masculine features. The only unchanged thing is his eyes: droopy, coffee-like, with a glint of sweetness that scratches their indifference in the exact instant they engulf into yours, wide and liquid -if it wasn’t for them, you’d swear he’d be one of the handsome Tae’s co-workers…

His stare softens when he notices you’re torturing your bracelets. “You look good.”

You rack your brain frantically to think of something to say, but you can only mutter: “Yeah… You too.”

He brushes past you and his good fresh scent almost makes your legs tremble, like leaves in the wind. He rolls up his checkered sleeves sloppily, then he pulls back his hair…

Where the hell did he hide all this sexiness when you were neighbors?!

“(Y/N)?”

“Eh?” you blink. Oh, God, did he notice you were gawking at him?! “W-what?”

“I asked you how you’re doing in Seoul,” Yoongi repeats, giving you a glass full of you-don’t-know-what-it-is-but-let’s-hope-it’ll-get-you-drunk-soon. “I know you work for Vogue’s Korea .”

“Oh, yes… I’m just a secretary, though. But it’s pretty cool! I’m going to San Francisco for the Victoria's Secret showroom next month!” you exclaim, and Yoongi watches you with that endearing smile he always wore whenever you babbled about your dreams or projects.

“I’m glad for you.”

He changed so much from the sad boy you left in front of his home with the pledge to call him every day -and the odd thing is that he looks at you as if you’ve kept your promise-that you’d like to submerge him with questions and discover a bit of his life.

However, Tae’s mother interrupts you with the plea to take a photo of you three together because “It’s been ages since you were all reunited!” and you can’t help but tenderly smile while she bickers with Tae. Then, she shoves you between those you once used to call ‘My Daegu boys’ -two men now so distant from you that you really don’t know what kind of box you should put them in.

On one side, there’s Taehyung, a friend who constantly kept you updated about the news in his life. On the other side, instead, there’s a grown-up Yoongi of whom you practically don’t know anything.

You only know your heart flips in your chest whenever your eyes meet, just like it did when you were two friends spending your nights having long pillow talks... and this is not a good sign.

❀❀❀ 

Despite every prediction, the party goes on fast and smooth as silk and before you could realize it, you’re already heading back home in the silent street, glancing at all those colored signs covering the multi-storied buildings without really seeing them.

You replay this night endlessly, searching for the tiniest detail that could make you understand if Yoongi put on a façade of peacefulness only to not ruin Tae’s moment, or if he isn't truly bothered by your presence here.

You sigh, tightening more into your jacket.

You can’t stop wondering what might have been if you had kept in touch. You’ve always stated that nothing nor nobody could break a friendship like yours but despite your beliefs, just the distance has been enough to wreck it...

Why did you distance yourself from him so much?

“(Y/N)?” at the sound of your name –pronounced in an unmistakable way that shakes you up- you gaze over your shoulder, watching Yoongi come closer. “Are you running away already?”

You puff your cheeks. “I’m not!”

He lightly chuckles once beside you. “I’m joking.”  He jams his hands in his leather jacket pockets and takes a long pause. “Tae was scared you wouldn’t have come, you know?” he finally says, giving you a sidelong glance.

You’d like to tell him: “What about you?” but you bite your tongue, focusing on your conversation. “I didn’t want to,” you admit, “We didn’t really stay in touch, I was surprised when he sent me the invitation. But I don’t still feel too comfortable, I’ll probably lock myself in my room until the wedding day.” You throw him a quick glance. “But I’m glad they thought of me, despite all,” you conclude, smiling genuinely while looking at your feet. “I’ll use these days as a break from work!”

He sags on his shoulders but a light grin still stays on his face. “Life in Seoul must be pretty hectic.”

“It is…” you nod, trying to scrape that sense of guilt now encrusting your heart. “What about you, instead?”

Yoongi seems somewhat taken aback by this question. “I’m fine. I’m a photographer for a magazine.”

“Oh, it’s true…” you nod. “Sorry for not coming to your graduation.”

“I didn’t come to yours too…” he moistens his lips. “Anyway, now I live in Ilsan with my girlfriend and—“

“Girlfriend?!” you squeak. “Holy God! Who is she? Where did you meet—“ you swallow back every question when the tip of his ears turns scarlet. “Sorry, I kind of got carried away…” you let out a nervous giggle, toying with your bracelets. “I really missed a lot of things over these past years.”  Your voice escapes more sad that you’d like for it to be, but fortunately he doesn't seem to take notice of it.

Yoongi shrugs. “You’ve got plenty of time to catch up.” He slows down the pace when the pair of you approach his home. “Good night, then.”

You nod, taking those few steps from your house to his. Then, as an electroshock just crossed your body, you whirl around to face him. “Yoongi?” you wait for him to look at you, sinking in his eyes veiled with curiosity. “It was nice to see you again.”

This is too formal for two people who’ve spent half their lives going through the roughest times together, but maybe you can’t expect more from someone who probably wasted his time next to a phone that never rang. In fact, Yoongi replies with a wave and enters the house, leaving you alone.

‘What did you expect? Fireworks, hugs and tears?’

When you scamper in your bedroom though, after preparing yourself to go to bed, a paper ball flies from the window, rolling on your bed.

Your eyes grow bigger when you open it:

‘When you want to play together, just whistle.’

You lift your head up, glancing at Yoongi’s window.

This is the same thing he wrote to you a few days after you moved to Daegu for your father’s promotion. You were so scared and angry that you never left your bedroom and you always grunted at your mother’s “Why don’t you go playing with the neighbor’s son? He’s nice.” because he wasn’t nice, he was… Strange . He always peeped at you from the window and every time you caught him staring, this small bean turned red and hid behind the curtains.

“I didn’t know how to talk to you, you were pretty scary,” he once admitted.

That day, you kept to yourself  that you still conserve that kind of paper airplane that established the beginning of your friendship.

You smile, watching his shadow dancing along  his blue walls behind the thin white curtains.

Yoongi always knows how to make you feel at home.

❀❀❀

You don’t see Yoongi until Tuesday.

It’s morning when you open the door and find him standing there, with a light shade of pink coloring his cheeks and a dim smile that slowly turns into a grin when he glances at your pajama or mad hair.

You’d like for a hole to open beneath your feet but eventually, you manage to mutter: “Yoongi?” crossing your arms on your chest to hide that embarrassing penguin print from his sight. “It's… nice to see you.”

It’s not like you’ve waited for him to visit you, but in these sleepless nights spent staring at his bedroom, you admit you’ve lowkey hoped for him to tap at your window just like he used to do when you were children. But the lights always turned off, making all your memories vanish into thin air.

It’s weird how easily things can change, from living in each other’s pockets to not saying more than a few sentences a year through dull texts, without feeling any gaping hole of absence.

“Yoongi isn’t mad at you. If he was, he’d already given you the cold threat at the party,” Tae told you the other morning, behind a mug full of tea you prepared for him. “He may be changed for many things but when it comes to you, I think he’s still the same. He always asked me about you and whenever I told him ‘(Y/N)’s happy’ he seemed truly relieved.”

“Do you need something?” your stare dances from his veiny hand scratching his neck, to the Rolex around his wrist, and finally lay on his eyes crinkling in the corner.

“I just wanted to make sure you won’t lock yourself in your bedroom until Sunday,” he jokes, drumming his fingers on his hips. “Actually, your mother asked me to invite you to go out a bit.” He sniffs. “She’s starting to mold on that sofa!” he mimics her with a high-pitched voice and you turn crimson. “So… I gotta go to the center. It won’t take me too long.”

You cast a glance at your outfit. “Better not. I’m a mess—“

“You look fine to me,” he interrupts, softly, scratching his hair when you furrow. “A pair of jeans and a shirt will do. Take all the time you want—But don’t take as much as you did when you had to go out with Hoseok.”

“Again?! It was my first date! I wanted to be beautiful—“

“Because the great Jung dude asked me out, every girl would scalp me right now, bla bla bla, I remember…” he pokes the tongue on his cheek. “I’ll wait for you here.”

Yoongi’s got the same expression he had when you were desperately searching for a decent dress to wear, electrified that the coolest boy in the entire school wanted to watch the last Spider-Man movie with you.

Now that you think about it, you don’t clearly remember how that date went. You only remember you came back home earlier than you expected, and Yoongi was waiting for you in front of his house, sitting on the stairs. The only sight of his snapback, his reddish hair, and his oversized hoodie made you feel in the right place, a sensation you didn’t feel whenever Hoseok held your hand or looked at you with his beautiful genuine smile.

Out of the blue, Yoongi asked you if you two kissed and when you shook your head, he leaned out and sealed his mouth with yours, abruptly kidnapping you from the silent contemplation of the streetlamps.

Your first kiss felt strange and humid. It wasn’t really as you always fantasized while watching movies. The protagonists used to tilt their head, cup the partners’ faces … Instead, you were so stunned that you only closed your eyes, enjoying the odd sensation of your tongue slowly and clumsily caressing his own.

“It’s better that I’ve kissed you first. Or you’d have wasted it with someone who doesn’t even know you still make wishes on shooting stars,” he told you after inching away from you, hiding his scarlet face in the crook of your neck.

You always sensed that Yoongi felt something deeper for you but he never confessed and you never asked, too scared that your friendship could turn into something serious and get ruined as time passed by.

❀❀❀

“I can’t believe it! You must be kidding me!” you stare at Yoongi’s phone. “You’re engaged with Aina Saito! No way!”

Yoongi grabs your arm and pulls you closer to him, preventing you from smashing against a man coming in the opposite direction. “Why so surprised? Is she too beautiful for me?”

You gasp, feeling your ears charring. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just… She’s one of Kenzo ’s models! How’d you react if I were married to Yoo Jitae?! You know how much I love him!”

“No. You just love his ass.”

“Of course I do. It seems so… made of marble,” you say and Yoongi bursts out laughing, holding tighter the plastic bag full of rolls of film for his camera –you’re in the twenty-first century and he’s probably the only photographer who doesn’t use digital cameras. “I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

You look at their picture. Even if she captures your attention with her raven hair and big doe hazel eyes, you can’t take your eyes off Yoongi: he’s got this sweet smile while she rests her head on his shoulder, and his odd purple hair or that cute black spotted tie doesn’t intact the elegance of the suit he’s wearing.

“Were you at some gala?”

He shakes his head. “My colleague’s wedding. I was the best man.” He squelches a chuckle. “It’s funny. Namjoon, that’s his name, well, he’s always been against marriage. Then one day he came to me and told me: ‘I’m getting married’ , and now he’s about to become a father.” He scratches the back of his nape. “Love really changes people.”

You narrow your brow. “Does this mean I should expect an imminent invitation to your wedding?”

Yoongi snaps his tongue. “Hey, don’t say it as if I were against it. You were!”

“And I still am!”

He gives you a serious sidelong glance, then he dimly smiles. “I remember you wanted a white dress, and a church full of daffodils.”

Sure. That was before your parents got divorced, your mother was devastated, and you discovered how comfortable the silence of your flat was.

“And end up like my mother? No, thanks…” you give him back the phone. “You two seem really happy. I’m glad for you. Will she come here for the wedding?”

Yoongi lightly nods. “She’s working these days.” He stares at the phone for a couple of seconds, then he puts it in his jeans pocket. Judging from his expression, he doesn’t seem intent on deepening the conversation but after such a revelation, you can’t restrain your curiosity.

“How did you meet?”

You can tell by the way he’s pushing his tongue on his cheek that he’s regretting carelessly letting you peer at his lock-screen. “I was in Tokyo for work, three years ago. My company hired me for the Puma campaign and once I’d been obliged to go to this stupid after-party. I spent the whole night at the bar and suddenly this gorgeous woman sits next to me and says: ‘You seem pretty bored, do you want some company? ’. I thought she was talking with someone else.” He chuckles. “Before I could realize it, I had her number in my phone-book and a date for the next afternoon.”

You contemplate his profile, his relaxed expression while he shares a bit of his life with you. It truly touches your heart to know that Yoongi’s finally found the happiness he never had when you were younger, but there’s this strange itching that pinches your stomach if you think that you’ve never been good enough to make him understand what a wonderful person he is.

“I talked to her once,” you say, catching his attention. “I was in Paris for a fashion show. She was so beautiful, I immediately understood why my colleagues envied me so much.” You giggle and Yoongi’s eyes become two sweet half-moons. “During the interviews, I talked to her! Well, I only told her she was amazing but she was so polite and funny.” You toy with your bracelets. “She’s nice.”

Yoongi nods. “She’s been the third woman I could naturally talk to without feeling stupid.”

“The third?”

“Well, my mother was the second. And then there was you.” Yoongi bites his bottom lip at that confession and you wide your eyes, feeling a piping hot warmth exploding in your chest. He pulls back his raven hair, unable to hide that odd expression now dawning on his face - as if he’s going to reveal he’s Batman or something.

But whatever he was about to say vanishes in the ring of his phone. Yoongi curses between his teeth. “Sorry. It’s probably for work.” He picks up. “What do you want, Joonie? I told you to not call me when I’m on holiday—Ugh, ok…” he spares you one last glance. “Sorry, I’ll come back soon—It’s none of your business who I’m talking to!” he turns his back, hiding his crimson face.

You chuckle.

Yoongi’s the same. He’s a bit grouchy but a good man at heart; and this Aina must be pretty cool if she’s been able to wreck that shield that protects him from the rest of the world.

Your mother always told you that you were made for each other: you were the only one capable of squeezing him out his shell, and he was the only guy you treated carefully, paying attention to not hurt him in any way. But at that time, your feelings were so messed up that you didn’t even try to give them a shape and before you could listen to them, you were buying a one-way ticket to Seoul.

You turn, observing him from head to toes. You admit he’s pretty sexy with that black T-shirt tucked into his jeans that perfectly defines his slim figure, the way the bracelets dance around his thin wrists, and the confidence in every gesture is an electric shock to your heart.

You ignore that sudden twitch in your stomach and you cast a glance at the ‘for sale’ sign hung on a window. When you realise where you are, you feel catapulting to an excruciating path of your childhood: the afternoons spent on the stairs watching the street, sharing the earphones with Yoongi who never left your hand and whispered you that everything would be fine again, sooner or later; the silence of his dark bedroom and the crushing-bones hugs while his tears drenched your shirts...

“The Bins…” you whisper when Yoongi approaches you again. “It can’t be closed! No way!” you shake your head frenziedly. “Its pastries were the best in the whole universe!”

“It’s already two years.” Yoongi follows your stare. “We always hid here when something went wrong.”

You glance at his serious expression and an uncontrolled warmth makes its way into your chest, placating your throbbing heart.

The first time Yoongi took you here, your father had already disappeared for two weeks. You thought it was a momentary crisis but when your mother babbled about ‘divorce’, you stopped waiting for him on the stairs, cocooned in a blanket. Yoongi offered you a piece of apple-pie and a hot chocolate, spending the few savings he put aside with his part-time job as a pizza-getter only to take out his little girlfriend of that time.

The last time you took him here, he was wearing the same white shirt for two days, the black tie around his neck was loosened, and his odd bluish hair was greasy. His mother had been dead for two days but in his swollen red eyes, it seemed it had already passed ten years. With a cracked voice he asked you: “When will it stop hurting?” but you never replied to him.

There’s no expiration date for sorrow.

“I really hope you’d enjoy their last pies,” you say, sulkily.

Yoongi pauses. “I… stopped coming here since you’ve been gone,” he admits with a low voice, gnawing his bottom lip.

You toy with your bracelets. “Did you come back to Daegu often after you moved?”

“Of course, whenever I can. I love this city, unlike you…”

You’d like to reply but a lump in your throat impedes you from talking.

You can’t interpret the meaning behind his last speech but something tells you that Yoongi would like to submerge you with an avalanche of many other words. For the moment, he only talks about futile things while wandering through the town, making you rediscover the inner beauty of Daegu.

It’s a hot Tuesday afternoon when you discover that Yoongi isn’t the shy boy you used to know anymore, while you’re still the girl who doesn’t see the time to run away from this place.

❀❀❀

The next time you see Yoongi is at his father’s diner.

You didn’t have the intention to meet him, but when you passed in front of the big windows and glimpsed at his shape through the glass, you went back way before your brain could scream: “The fuck are you doing?!”

As long as that Tuesday morning spent together demonstrates to you that Yoongi doesn’t hold any grudge against you, you still sense that there’s a high thick wall that you had been able to wreck when you were little, brick after brick.

The bell above the door rings when you walk in, announcing your presence, and when he instinctively lifts his head up, a light flush spreads from the collar of his shirt to his cheeks, now pulled up. A nostalgic smile etches itself on your face when you recognize the small boy who used to play video games with his headphones on behind the counter and looked around bored, waiting for you and Tae to arrive and save him.

In the present, Yoongi checks some bills with his usual pout and doesn’t look like someone who needs to be saved; and yet, that smile he freely delivers to you as soon as you approach him makes you lose the ground beneath your feet.

“I didn’t expect you to come here,” he says when he’s done to serve a client. “How was your day?” he inquiries, crossing his arms on the counter.

You swallow at the sight of his veins branching along his skin, at his long elegant fingers with some rings wrapped around them drumming on the wooden surface… geez, he's so manly to run your mouth dry. However, his left eyebrow arched brings you back down to reality and you manage to say: “Tiring. I’ve spent the whole afternoon helping Euna with the last things. If someone will ever ask me why I don’t want to get married, I’ll tell them I never recovered from today.” You chuckle and Yoongi follows you, flashing you his marvelous gummy smile that always made you prefer spending your days with him rather than your solitude. You take a look around the dim-lit room, observing all the clients sitting around the tables. “Sorry if I bumped here, you’re working—“

“I’m not.” He scratches the nape of his neck. “Well, I am. One of the waitresses is sick so my father asked me to help, and since Tae’s so busy I didn’t have anything better to do.” He avoids your stare.

A sudden awareness painfully tugs at your heart, as it makes its way in your mind: you aren’t anymore the ‘better’ in his life. He could’ve knocked on your door asking for your company; instead, he preferred working.

Your guts squirm as a thin voice inside of you whispers: ‘What did you expect? To still be the most important girl in his life? He’s engaged, did you forget it?’

C'mon, we're not talking about an ordinary girl like you, but one who fulfills half of South Korea’s fantasies!

And even if she wasn’t so famous, why should he prefer a girl who trampled on his heart, when she's certainly the one who took good care of him, healing all the scars you left him?

“Then I should really let you work.” You plaster a smile, sparing one last glance to the room where you, Tae and him used to reunite after school. “Well, see you—“

“No, stay…” he stops you, softly, toying with his rings. “If you don’t mind waiting a bit… We can do something together, later,” he abruptly says, biting the right corner of his mouth.

“No, I’ll probably go home. You gotta work—”

“Then I’ll walk you home.” He scratches his crimson ear.

You smirk, raising your chin. “Are you scared that a delicate flower like me may incur some danger all alone at night?”

“Actually, I’d be scared for your assailant.” He bursts out laughing when you sharpen your eyes. “C’mon, don’t look at me like this! Have you forgotten that time you punched Jongin? He was reading out loud the love letter I wrote to Aeja. You went all berserk when you saw me crying… You were such a tomboy.” His expression softens. “I never truly thanked you for being so—“

“Rude? Stupid? A killer?”

“Nice…” he says quietly, “I was such a cry-baby, back then. I felt guilty when they suspended you for more than a week.”

Of that far away May, you remember only your mother’s scorching gaze, her cold shoulder… and Yoongi coming to your house every single day after school. He stayed in your bedroom doing homework, he let you play his video games and spent all his pocket money buying you your favorite snacks. He said that school wasn’t the same without you and the day you came back, he had this huge gummy smile that ran from cheek to cheek… the same that danced across his features wet with tears when you took him by the hand and walked back home together, leaving Jongin cleaning his bleeding nose.

Essential, that’s how Yoongi made you feel.

That’s what you’re missing right now, while you see him text –certainly- with his girlfriend: he’s finally built his life, and you aren’t part of it anymore. But when he lifts his head up and his shimmering eyes engulf into yours, you’ve got the presumption that your soft shy boy is still there, trapped in a masculine body and with a contemptuous expression.

Your heart flickers in your chest as he delivers you a gentle smile, and you realize you don’t want this night to end. You want to keep him with you as long as possible, even if just for one night…

“Today’s Thursday, there’s the local fair…” Yoongi munches the corner of his mouth, unsure. Then, his eyes become two sweet half-moons and stares back at you as if he’s put aside all his doubts and questions. “Would you like to go?”

You smile back. “Why not?”

… You want to be thrown back once more to those moments where he looked into your eyes and you felt on top of the world.

❀❀❀  

Now that Yoongi’s a grown-up man with a good pay, and you’re a carrier woman who can pay for her own dinners in a fancy restaurant without waiting for a guy to take out his own wallet, you should buy your own cotton candy.

You should, but you don’t.

Yoongi walks beside you, keeping the cotton candy you’re sharing. His laugh is raspy, amused, while you recount him about how you passed from being a secretary in charge of coffee and photocopies to be your chief’s right-hand; or how he sometimes sends you on the other side of the world alone because he trusts your abilities and knows you can handle everything alone.

He whistles. “I understand now why you’re unavailable.”

“I told you!” you elbow him lightly. “He gets invitations for every runaway show, and he brings me with him most of the time. It’s really tiring and stressful, but I love it.” You take a piece of cotton candy between your fingers, as a light giggle escapes from your mouth. “Once he took me to Las Vegas, it was my first time there. There’s something magical in it! And he’s also a good man,” you conclude, eating the candy.

Yoongi caresses his chin. “I imagine he must be something more than a simple chief...”

“He’s married to his job. And me too.”

He scratches the back of his ear, twiddling with his two earrings. “So… You don’t have time for anybody in your life right now?”

You clean your sticky fingers. “There was someone…” you admit, giving him a sidelong glance to study what kind of expression might be dawned on his face. “But I guess that Tae told you everything already.”

He blushes and pouts. “He just told me you had a boyfriend, but now you don’t. He never explained why you two broke up, and I didn’t ask.” He shrugs, before rolling up his sleeves sloppily.

You chew on your bottom lip, unsure about where to begin. You repeated the same few words so many times in your head it shouldn’t be too hard for you to plaster a smile and tell a simple: “I’ve asked him to move in together but he refused”... but the fact is: things are slightly different as you had recounted them to Tae or your mother.

Yoongi is different...

Your heart skips a beat at this thought, before starting to throb noticeably faster. You stop staring at the trails of colorful small lanterns that guide you throughout the stands and when you meet Yoongi’s eyes, in which stream a mixture of tenderness and curiosity, words tumble off your tongue. “His name’s Seokjin. I met him at a conference and he was soooo—God, you don’t have any idea how handsome he is! He’s got these big broad shoulders that—” you cough as Yoongi grimaces. “I was happy with him, he was a constant presence in my life but I didn’t notice we were really together until he left some of his clothes in my wardrobe. He said that it was just for practicality, so he didn’t have to take a luggage whenever he came to visit me from Gwacheon… but..” your words trail off mid-sentence, as you focus your attention on some children playing.

“It’s so strange to see you with someone. You’ve finally found the right one!” Tae  candidly confessed when you introduced them to Jin, during a last-minute dinner you organized when they were in Seoul for work; and at that statement, you simply smiled, almost believing in his words. However, reality took you aback and you soon came to the realization that a twice-a-month-weekend spent together is definitively different from sharing an entire life.

“Then what happened?” Yoongi presses further as if he’s sensed that something’s wrong.

You wonder how much he knows, and how he’ll react when he’ll find out the truth. You pause, words are glued on your palate. “He asked me to move in together and I refused… So he left me.”

Jin’s big liquid eyes at your candid “No.” still scorch you when you least expect it, as much as his feeble “But… Do you love me, (Y/N)?” comes to haunt you whenever you start to notice that you’re dating a guy for too long.

You aren't punishing yourself for your behavior toward him, it’s just… if you weren't able to cultivate your relationship with Seokjin, you highly doubt someone else will be able to do what he couldn't sort out: to help you to overcome your fear that entangling your existence with someone else's life isn’t so smothering as you’ve always thought.

And when you arouse your interest from your bracelets to Yoongi’s bemused expression, you realize he already knows everything -or at least the story you’ve told to everybody-.

“You’re the first I tell the truth,” you start, “It’s easier in this way. I couldn’t stand their faces, otherwise.” You lightly chuckle, feeling his somber eyes boring through your skin. “Tae would spend his days making me feel guilty, my mother would jam my voice mail because she thinks that there’s something wrong with me.” You lower your head. “I can imagine her saying: Seokjin is just another failure.”

“He probably wasn’t the right one,” Yoongi analyses, after a brief pause.

“Probably. Moving in with someone is an important decision, you can’t take it light-heartedly.” You clasp your hands behind your back. “You know? After two years with him, I believed it’d be hard getting used to solitude once again. Then I opened my wardrobe, I saw only my clothes and… I dunno, I felt so relieved. I thought: there’s much more space for me now.” You exhale an airy laugh.

Yoongi dimly smiles. “I can’t really imagine you seriously with someone…” his stare widens when he hears his own words. “I mean… you always ran away whenever a relationship started to become serious.” He scratches his scarlet ear. “Sorry…”

“Don’t worry…” you pause, then you shake your head, trying to not bother too much about his comment. “But maybe it’s better like this. He’s happy now, with someone who really loves him.”

“You didn’t?”

“If I did, I’d accepted his proposal immediately.” You toy with your bracelets, narrowing your brows when a strange question pops out in your mind. “How have you understood you love Aina?” you swallow, feeling your heart beating in your ears, loud and noisy.

Yoongi blushes, caught off guard by your question. “I just… knew it.” He pokes the tongue on his cheek. “One morning, I woke up and she was next to me. We didn’t have sex, we just fell asleep before she could go away. And I understood that I didn’t want her to go back home. I wanted for my home to become hers.” He lowers his voice. “It’s about the things I’ve always wanted to build as an adult and who I wanted to share them with.” His eyes engulf into your eyes, and you catch a strange glint crawling in them. “She’s been the first for whom I felt like this.”

Something breaks deep down inside of you.

Seeing Yoongi so into deep with someone is comparable to a hit against a brick wall, and as long as you always believed you were the only one to fulfill his fantasies, you start now to realize how wrong you were. Probably, along the way of your growth, there was a moment where Yoongi felt something deep for you but it never sprouted out for him.

It did for you, instead, at a certain point.

More than once your heart bumped differently whenever it came to him, but you start to believe it was just a matter of habit, amplified by the simple fact that you were always glued to each other.

You try to placate your aching heart but the way Yoongi caresses you with his stare isn’t of any help. He’s got the expression of someone who’s desperately trying to tell you something that could trigger an emotional outburst none of you could recover from; but if in the past he’d have said for sure the wrong thing, he now stays silent.

You distract when some children brush past you. You follow them with your stare, being guided to the only point that brings back so many memories you forget you were having a serious conversation.

“The fishing stand…” you scamper toward it like a moth to a flame, and you crouch down, mesmerized by the refreshing sight before you.

Yoongi’s immediately behind you, then he crouches down beside you, watching a child try to catch the fishes with the paper net. When it breaks, one of them starts to fuss.

You chuckle. “God, I was just like him! Do you remember when I cried so much that in the end, you gave me all your fishes—Uh!“ whatever you were about to say, rolls back in your throat.

Some kids next to you accidentally shove you when they want to watch closely, and you lose balance, landing on Yoongi’s chest. He curses between his teeth when he hits his butt on the ground, and as long as you know you should move away, you can’t help but stay there in his light embrace, cuddled by the sound of his throbbing heart.

It pumps hard, just like it did whenever you fell asleep on his chest, when you were dancing at the prom, when you were going to leave Daegu… A sudden warmth crawls through your veins, it spreads on your face now on fire, and it gives you enough energy to get on your feet… but you can't move.

Yoongi squeezes his hands on your shoulders, and you now realize that his arms –definitively more masculine than you remembered- are actually wrapping you firmly.

You swallow thickly. “Yoongi, hey--”

“(Y/N), what if Seokjin never truly loved you?” he interrupts, his voice soft like melted butter. “If he did, he’d fought harder to keep you with him.”

You feel as if your whole body is shaking, but a quick glance to his shoulders makes you understand that Yoongi’s the one who’s trembling. You rest your ear more on his chest, basking in the silence now settled upon you.

“(Y/N), there’s something I’ve to tell you. For a very long time… But I’m deadly scared you’ll run away,” he whispers, brushing his lips on your hair.

At those words, you pull yourself away a bit.

Yoongi’s staring at you with wide eyes, his bottom lip is taught between his teeth… you recognize that expression, you saw it on a billion guys when they were on the cusp of kissing you.

You quickly analyze the situation: backing off would be the best thing to do, and yet you stay still, waiting for something to happen--!

A loud shout distracts the pair of you from your mutual contemplation. You gaze over your shoulder, attracted by a small boy's crying.

Yoongi seems to come back to earth too, as he immediately loses the grip, fixing his hair and T-shirt. He takes his knees to his chest and circles his legs with his arms, as he diverts his stare.

“Yoongi…” you call him, vaguely.

It takes him quite some time to lift his head up and when he does, he looks at you in a mixture of confusion, embarrassment, and guilt. “Yeah?”

You flash him a beaming smile. “Are you still good at catching fishes?”

❀❀❀

“I can’t believe I spent all my money on a stupid childish game!”

You take off the stare from the bus window, peering at Yoongi, sprawled on the sit next to yours.

For a brief moment, the unmistakable scent of the 724 has made you sink in a pond of heart-melting memories, and you ask yourself if it’s the same also for him, busy watching his wallet with pouty lips.

“Come on, you made some children happy. And the carny too… And me too!” you show him the plastic bag full of water you’re carrying with you -as if it was an estimable treasure. “Look at this adorable tiny koi! You’ve gained a free spot in Paradise for this!”

Yoongi laughs, shaking his head. “You should find it a name.”

You look at him fondly. Your head keeps replaying him while he was catching fishes, with his contemptuous expression and the tongue’s tip tightened between his teeth; the children gawking at him in adoration, his red cheeks when they clung to his arms, the laughter when you cheered for him, his delicacy when he taught them how to not break the paper…

Yoongi’s far away from the memory you kept locked in your heart until for all this time; and while he twiddles with his rings, talkative as he’s never been since you’ve met again, you tell yourself that it has come the time to let the shy boy go and welcome this man that makes you feel fifteen again.

“I can imagine you with kids,” you interrupt, softly, and your eyes crinkle in the corner when he blushes. “They’d be handsome since Aina and you are—“ you gasp. “Well, c’mon, it’s true. She’s drop-dead gorgeous while you—Oh, well, you probably hear it every day.”

“Not really.” He rubs his nose. “Fortunately, there’s your mother who loves reminding me of it.” He jokes.

You look heavenward. Geez, she always had a soft spot for him. You can’t forget the stain of wine Yoongi poured on your couch on your seventeenth birthday, and how she forgave him immediately at the sight of his adorable gummy smile.

You’re about to reply but words falter and die in the back of his throat when Yoongi suddenly rests his head on your shoulder, suffocating a yawn. “(Y/N), listen…” his hand slowly moves toward yours and when his fingertips touch it, a cascade of shivers wash you from head to toes. “It’s not true I’m happy with Aina. We… took some time-out, for a while.” His fingers intertwine with yours. “You’re the only one I’m telling.” He closes his eyes.

You wait for a follow-up that never comes, as  your heart lurches and hides itself somewhere deep down yourself.

Yoongi’s already sleeping, just like he used to do when you were much younger… and you don’t know if you can handle another abrupt confession like this one.

❀❀❀

It’s Sunday 4:00 AM when you come back from Euna’s bachelorette party -and your only desire is to get ready for bed and wake up the day of the wedding.

However, the sight now taking shape in front of you scatters away all your thoughts: Yoongi’s sitting on the stairs of his place, and glances at the phone with the most serious expression that has ever hovered on his face.

You’re about to go away, taking advantage of the fact that he didn’t notice you, but his confession whispered on the bus starts whirling again in your head with so much power to paralyze you under the feeble light of the streetlamp.

“Already at home?” you recall his attention, and after a brief moment of surprise, he nods. “How was your bachelor’s party?” you inquire, approaching him.

“Good.” He scratches his ear. “Yours?”

“Great, we had a lot of fun!” you sit next to him, starting to recount him all the things you did. Then, aware that Yoongi isn't paying you any attention, you carefully study the broken expression crossing his features. “Something happened? You’re too sulky for someone who’s just seen strip-teasers.” You joke, but he doesn’t respond. “Well, you must be tired, it’s better if—“

“Stay…” he interrupts, softly, “I was just—“ he flaps his phone, then he scratches his nape. “I’m glad if you stay.” He delivers you a smile that doesn't reach your eyes. “I had an argument with Aina, that’s why I came back earlier.”

“About what?”

He shrugs. “Many things.”

You munch the corner of your mouth. “Won’t she come to the wedding?”

“She never planned to come. That’s one of the ‘many things’ .”

You stiffen when a light breeze blows, hitting you with his good fresh scent. You tight into your jacket. “I… I’m sorry for you and Aina. I hope you’ll work things out.” You smile, encouragingly. “It’s just… I never saw you so happy with anyone else.” Only at this statement, Yoongi looks at you in the eyes, furrowing.

“There was someone else… how couldn't you notice it?” After a long, infinite minute, Yoongi whispers a few words that shake you up from the inside. “… it was you.”

You turn to him,  who's got the sweetest expression you’ve ever seen on a guy’s face.

“It’s always been you…” he drums his trembling fingers on his knees. “The first time I saw you, you were yelling at your father ‘cause you had forgotten something in your hometown and he didn’t want to go back to take it. He told you: ‘I’ll buy you a new one’ and you replied: ‘It’s not the same! ’” he lightly chuckles. “You were so vibrant, I felt captured by that light you emanated in everything you did or said. I know it’s been a torture for you to move here but there hasn’t been a day I wasn’t happy for you becoming a part of my life.”

Your heart beats faster in the silence now following his words. As long as you’ve always noticed his feelings for you, hearing them out loud makes another effect: they scare you, you’re so terrorized you’d like to run away from Daegu right now; and yet, you're paralyzed by the simple thought that he’s cherished your memory with so much carefulness after all this time.

“Say something, (Y/N)…” he begs with a cracked voice, moistening his lips.

You’d like to reply but words are stuck in your dry throat. So, you slide your fingers in his raven hair, curling some locks. Then your fingertips slowly climb down and toy with his fringe, perfectly trace his nose line, and finally rest on his crimson cheek.

Yoongi tilts his head only to feel you better, closing his eyes under your soft touch. He turns a bit and brushes his mouth on your palm. The shiver it gives you is not comparable to the myriad running up and down your spine when his lips climb up your arm, on your shoulder, on your neck...

Yoongi is delicate, like someone who’s deadly terrified to see you vanish in thin air, and as long as you’d love for him to not stop, you know this isn’t right.

“You’ve got a girlfriend,” you barely whisper.

His searing lips unglue from your neck. “Dunno. Probably…” he looks at you, and you can clearly see the sad boy you left on these same stairs, four years ago. “Maybe she’s just a girl who forgot her things at my home,” he says bitterly, confusedly, searching for your stare. “She asked me to go with her to Japan… that’s why we argued,” he suddenly confesses.

Your eyes grow bigger and watery.

If he goes to Japan, Yoongi won’t be a part of your life anymore...

“I don’t want to go. My life is here in Daegu, in Ilsan… it's where there's you.” He rests his forehead on yours and wraps you into his arms, pulling you closer. “Daegu hadn’t been the same without you. Time passed so slowly, it’s been so hard to get used to your absence.” He rubs his nose on yours. “I missed you so much, you don’t have any idea how much I did. I thought I got over you, but I didn’t.”

You don’t know how long you hold each other’s gaze but when you’re about to back off a bit, Yoongi bends over and presses his lips on yours in a long, gentle kiss. You can feel his pain, his desire, and when he cups your face tight, you wonder how long he’s been waiting for this to happen. He inches away after a few seconds to catch some breath, placing chaste kisses on your mouth.

In that precise moment, your mind blacks-out.

You rest your trembling hands on his wrists and enjoy the good sensations he’s making you feel only with the simple delicate touch of his mouth against yours, as if the pair of you have been created for this very moment.

“(Y/N)…” your name never sounded so good till tonight, whispered on your lips. “The day you went away, I had to tell you a thing but I lacked courage. I regretted it so much…”

He moistens his lips and catches a breath…

“I, for you… I’ve always wanted to be that one good reason for you to stay and love this place… I still want to be. So, please …” he locks his stare into yours. “Tell me that’s the same for you and I’ll stay here, with you…”

Yoongi’s eyes grow liquid and your breath sticks in your throat…

“I’ll give you all the room in the world, (Y/N).”

[kagstea]

kageyama t. - purple hearts

kageyama tobio x f!reader

description: kageyama always showed a slight interest in certain love letters of yours, but you never thought they would be so important.

warnings: angst (as always)

At least a couple times a week, you opened your locker to find a few letters. They were confessions, of course. While you appreciate them, you never bothered to read them since you wouldn’t accept any. They all went in your bag, before finding their way into a metal box under your bed. From there they would remain until you would eventually get curious, and open them in the near future.

“Ah, another love letter for Karasuno’s princess?” Hinata mocked one day after class.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” You asked him, turning the letter over in your hand and glancing at the sticker that sealed it quickly.

He leaned against the locker next to yours. “I’m waiting for Kageyama and- Well, speak of the devil.”

The boy walked towards you two. “What?”

You shook your head. “Nothing. What took you so long?”

Kageyama eyed the letter in your grasp. “I forgot something. Is that another purple heart?”

While you received all kinds of letters, the ones sealed with a purple heart were always consistent. The sender never failed to deliver at least once a month, and although you never opened any of them, it warmed your heart that the person continued to hold some love for you.

“Mhm.” You grinned, carefully placing it in your bag. “I was worried for a bit that they wouldn’t send it this month, but I should’ve known better.” 

The three of you settled into a soft pace while walking out the school. Granted, the two of them had volleyball practice, but that never stopped them from walking you to the school entrance after the school day was finished.

With crossed arms, Hinata looked at you. “I don’t get it, Y/N. How come you don’t open them?”

“I don’t want to look at someone’s confession when I’m not going to like them back-”

“Ohh! Is it because you like someone?” His cheeky grin grew wide.

The abruptness of his question caught you off guard. With panic, you glanced at Kageyama, who was quiet throughout the conversation. But he didn’t seem bothered or even interested. It gave a funny feeling to your stomach.

With a scoff, you brushed his question off. “S-shut up! Why would you even ask something like that?” The tone of your voice lowered, and you avoided Hinata’s gaze knowing that on your cheeks lay an aggressive blush. “Anyways, I have to go home. Have fun at practice, guys!”

“Bye!” The two waved, watching as you disappeared before turning to each other. “Race you to the gym.”

~

After another month, you were pleased to find a familiar letter in your locker. The sight of it had you smiling before you could stop yourself.

“What are you smiling at?” 

“Oh, my gosh! Tobio! Make some noise!” His sudden appearance startled you. You clenched the letter to your chest and tried to calm yourself down. Kageyama only raised an eyebrow at your reaction.

“I was standing here for two minutes already.”

“And you didn’t bother to let me know that?”

He shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Purple heart again?”

This time, you didn’t try to hide your small smile. “Yeah. Don’t you have practice-”

“It’s cancelled because of the weather. Want to walk home together?” Kageyama held up an umbrella, prompting you to look outside. The gentle but growing falling of the rain already had you shivering.

“Yes, please.” You answered with eagerness, earning a grin from him.

As soon as the two of you stepped outside, you didn’t hesitate to cling to Kageyama’s side. While part of it was to keep both of you under the safety of the umbrella, another part saw it as an opportunity to be close to the person you had feelings for.

“Your shoulder’s getting wet.” You frowned, tugging him closer.

“It’s fine.”

“If you get sick, you can’t play volleyball, Tobio.” That logic allowed him to relax against your touch. “Sometimes I wonder how you would get through life without me.” You joked.

But he nodded. “Then, let’s promise to never find out.”

His response made your heart flutter. There were times when you wondered if he could possibly reciprocate your feelings. But you always talked yourself out of it, knowing that dating was one of the last things on his mind at the moment. Kageyama was always setting up the foundation for his volleyball career. There was no way he would set aside time to like someone.

Still, it was nice to even imagine.

“Unfortunately, I think I’m stuck with you. Have fun getting rid of me.” As he looked down at you, you stuck your tongue out playfully, making him let out a quick chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s until you open one of those damn letters and leave me.”

He meant it as a joke, but the reality of his words struck your heart. Slowly, your smile faded from your face, and you held his arm tighter. An unsettling silence bloomed as you stared at your feet.

Suddenly, the question tore from your throat. “Do you… do you think I would ever open them?”

Kageyama took a second, before asking you, “What reason do you have to not open them?” When you didn’t answer, he cleared his throat. “I mean, it’s not like you already have someone you like… do you?”

You should have told him. At that moment, you should have poured your heart out to him. But the fear of your confession backfiring held you back. Despite your heart screaming not to, you shook your head. “I don’t.”

Kageyama opened his mouth to say something, but his better judgment stopped him. “I see.”

You had to know now. “Well, how about you. Do you have someone that you… you know… like?”

It hurt you when he spoke.

“Yeah, I do.”

Those words made your heart twitch. Of course he already had someone he liked. It was only natural. Hearing that, you subconsciously loosened your hold on him. The walk home now seemed longer and it was killing you.

Once you two made it to your home, you suddenly were filled with nothing but regret. As you watched Kageyama go, a new realization hit. While you didn’t technically lose him, it sure felt like you did. 

~

It was almost a blessing you didn’t attend his wedding, though you knew you would regret it. That still didn’t stop you from finding an opportunity to miss it via a work excuse. That was what Hinata said he would tell him at the reception.

Work was a good distraction. After all, it had been a good six years since you had last seen Kageyama at graduation. Your friendship was never the same after that rainy day, so you were surprised to receive a wedding invitation.

Although, you had yet to get a physical copy of the invitation. You had first heard word about the wedding through Hinata, who claimed Kageyama had personally thought about asking you to come. Though apparently an invitation was mailed, you never received it.

“Are you sure you can’t make it even to the reception?” Hinata asked you over the phone on your way home. “I’ll come get you right now, if you want.”

You smiled at his consideration. “No, that’s fine. It was a long day at work, I’m not sure I have the energy to even make it home. Just take lots of pictures to show me, alright?”

There was a pause on his end. “Okay, Y/N. Get home safe.”

“I will.” You told him before ending the call. A part of you suspected Hinata had once known about your feelings for his friend, but at this age you were grateful he never did anything.

It only took a half hour to get back to your apartment. Your feet were killing you and all you wanted was to just curl up in bed and fall asleep. Inside, you told yourself it was karma for finding an excuse to miss the wedding when you easily could have just gone. But, you’d rather be physically drained than mentally, so you convinced yourself it was a good choice.

Upon making your way to your door, a white envelope caught your eye. It was set right in front of your door. It wasn’t there before you left in the morning, so someone must have dropped it off while you were at work. Your legs burned as you reached down to grab it, carefully studying the handwriting on it. Of course, it was addressed to you, but when you turned it around, you almost dropped it.

Right in the middle of the envelope was a small, purple heart sticker, sealing it. It had been years since you had seen it, and your hands shook gently. Wasting no time, you carefully opened the letter, curious to find out who the sender was after all this time.

As soon as you pulled the contents from the envelope, a breath got caught in the back of your throat. You almost forgot how to breathe as you overlooked the invitation to Kageyama’s wedding. Overwhelmed, tears began to build up in your eyes. You reached into your bag, digging for your keys to unlock your door. Once you were in, you ran straight to your room and kneeled on the ground.

You almost thanked your younger self for bringing that metal box with you when you moved. For years, it had remained under your bed without you having a single thought of going through it. But now you were, specifically for the letters sealed by that damn sticker.

You grabbed the first one you saw, ripping it open with a sense of urgency. As you read the letter, your throat started to burn.

Dear, Y/N,

Today I accidentally bought two banana milks, so I gave one to you. You instantly drank it, and then took a nap on your desk right after. I know you probably won’t read this for a while, so I thought I would tell you how pretty you looked. Even with your hair sticking to your face because of your drooling, you still looked pretty.

That’s all.

Bye.

It was funny how you knew exactly what he was talking about. For you, you could remember that day as if it were yesterday. You wondered if it was the same for him.

Dear Y/N,

I know I like you, but I didn’t know it was possible to like you more. You proved that to me, when you showed up to our game today. I almost went the entire play without knowing you were there, but something made me look up into the stands, which I’m glad.

You’re always pretty, but seeing you in that moment cheering us on made me realize you are the prettiest in the world. I really mean that, so don’t think of yourself as less.

This seems forward, but I hope that even in the future, you’ll still come to my games so I can see your prettiness. But honestly, even if you don’t come, just stick by my side. That’s enough for me.

His words brought a painful smile to your face. It felt like you were talking to a younger Kageyama. Even today, you questioned if he remembered what he wrote to you.

All the letters were random, but managed to tug at your heart. You could recall every single moment that he wrote about, and it killed you how you never opened them sooner. It all made sense now. He would always mention the letters when you got them, and he lingered around your locker many times, no doubt waiting for you to turn your back so he could slip it in. You started to beat yourself up for not noticing that those were his letters, and you put them with the other confessions in the tiny metal box.

Finally, you reached the last letter he sent you. It was the last, because in the bottom corner he wrote goodbye in small writing. It took a moment to build up the courage to read it.

Dear Y/N,

This will probably be the last letter. I made sure you would know it’s the last, if you ever read it. 

It’s been a few months since that day. Even though I know you don’t have feelings for me, I still did for you. I still do.

But it’s not doing either of us any good if I keep going. So I’ll stop for our sake.

That doesn’t mean I don’t love you, because I do. And I wish I could tell it to you in person, but I’m a coward, so I won’t. And you’ll never know if you don’t read this, so I’m really pushing my luck.

Thanks for being my first love. I wish you weren’t, because first loves never work out. But still, you were my friend too. And you were always by my side, even when I probably didn’t deserve you.

Anyways, I hope you read this letter before graduation. Perhaps that’s the boost we need to save our friendship, at least. Even if you don’t, and I’m talking to future Y/N, please come see me. I’m sure future me is waiting for you because I’m afraid I could never stop loving you.

That’s all, Y/N. Oh, and I also put some of the purple heart stickers in the envelope in case you ever miss them. Just don’t waste them, okay?

The letter was almost drenched in your tears. Sure enough, there were stickers in the envelope. The same ones he used every month that had you smiling even for a second when you saw them. 

But seeing them now just brought you pain.

Especially when they were on his wedding invitation. An invitation that did not have your name along with his, and never will.

[seriouslysnape]

Shattered

__

Draco Malfoy x Astoria Malfoy x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of cheating.

Request: Hi, I was one of the many who requested a one shot.So I wrote that I'd like for you to write an angsty one shot with Draco, Astoria and reader. I heard this sound: So she gets the flowers right? And I got excuses, I got used and shattered." And it stuck with me still 🙈 You can make the end happy or sad. However you like.Thank you 😍💚 @perfect-storm95​

A/N: Well, well, well. This has made me hate Draco for the remainder of the day. Also, I’m gonna throw a little twist into this.

Word Count: 3,714

“All you have to do is say yes.”

__

It took a respectable amount of control to ignore the lurch in your stomach when he put his arm around her shoulder. It took even more restraint to avoid the heat in your throat when he laughed at something that she had spoken. And it took absolutely everything in you to ignore the way your heart ached when he kissed her the way he had once kissed you.

It had been a wild evening for sure, to say the very least. What was supposed to be a lighthearted night full of making fond memories and even more fun, you quickly discovered that you’d be having to face a part of your past that you had yet to come to terms with.

It had been almost three years since the last time you had seen Draco Malfoy. It had been three years since the last straw had been drawn and you left his home in hurt tears. Three years since you had walked out of his life, making a silent vow to never see him again, even if it meant going out of your way to do so.

You never thought you’d reunite quite like this.

Luna Lovegood had always been a dear friend of yours, despite the fact that she was a year younger than you. Her kindness and eccentric nature had appealed to you in the best of ways. The bubbly Ravenclaw girl had blossomed into a wonderful woman, and it overjoyed you to see her beginning this new chapter.

Her wedding was exactly how you had imagined it. It was far from traditional, but it was stunning nonetheless. Luna was a radiant bride, and you were beyond happy for her. Your good mood, however, tanked when you saw the blonde headed man at the reception afterwards. Even though it had been a few years, Draco still looked as he did the night you left him. 

It was a real punch in the gut to see him there, and you were almost convinced  that someone had spiked your drink. You were sure that you were dreaming, or that he was just a weird figment of your imagination. 

He was still tall and lean, and you couldn’t help but allow your eyes to follow the chiseled line of his jaw. He was wearing his nicest, favorite suit that still fit his frame perfectly. His voice was still serious and assertive, and his tone was still as it had always been. Make no mistake, it was still the same Draco Malfoy.

To make matters worse, it hurt like hell to see his arm wrapped around the very woman that caused your breakup. 

You wouldn’t deny that there was bad blood between yourself and Draco. Things had ended on a rotten note and things were never discussed, so it was only natural that there was unspoken tension.

Now, you were sulking at the table just behind theirs, not even interested in the engaging conversation happening around you between friends of yours that you hadn’t seen in quite some time. You just couldn’t seem to look away. It was like if you looked away and then looked back, he wouldn’t be there anymore. However, your silly belief was dismantled when his gaze suddenly caught yours. Yep, he was definitely real and sitting right in front of you.

Because you knew those piercing gray eyes anywhere.

You half expected him to pay you no mind and look away as if he hadn’t seen you at all, maybe even ignore your presence completely. But no, his glance locked with yours for a solid few seconds. Minds racing, hands shaking, hearts beating.

You were actually the first to look away, attempting to shift your attention as if you hadn’t just seen the only man you ever loved after so much time had passed. Even if you had been listening to what was being said around you, you were sure you wouldn’t have been able to hear a thing due to the thump of your heart in your ears. 

A deep blush had tinted Draco’s pale cheeks, and he had yet to look away. Your mind trailed to the woman who was obviously his date, and it was someone you REALLY had hoped you’d never see again. 

Astoria Greengrass was a beautiful woman. She was someone that you couldn’t help but compare yourself to. All the way from her voluminous hair to her impeccably pedicured toes. You had always thought of her to be the model of a picture perfect woman. But you never once thought that she was supposed to be competition for you.

It was a moment that would be permanently burned into your brain. No matter how hard you tried to forget (even going as far to use a spell on yourself) it still made its way back to you. It was a sickening sight, walking into your shared home with your boyfriend of 6 years to find him in bed with someone that had been under your nose the entire time. 

It was a massive blow to your pride, trust, and your heart. Draco had pleaded with and begged you to forgive him and to let it go. In between your screams and cries, he promised that things could work out and that things could be the way they were before.

You had magic for a reason, and he could easily obliviate all three of you and no one would ever know. But he knew how dishonest that would be. And you hated dishonesty.

Astoria had ducked out of the house just when your fight was getting started, which was good for her because you were sure you would’ve done something you might regret later. You and Draco had fought for hours. So long that your throats had gone raw from all the yelling and your eyes were almost puffed shut from all the tears. You had told him it was over in a burst of anger and hurt, and left him alone in your bedroom almost falling to pieces.

And that was the last time you had seen Draco Malfoy.

His presence hadn’t totally disappeared from your life. His name popped up in conversations from time to time, and you’d often stumble upon pictures of the two of you during happier times. But what you had not realized until seeing him again was that he had not once left the safety of your heart.

You were still in love with Draco Malfoy.

Your experience at Luna’s wedding had taken a full turn, and now you found yourself incredibly uncomfortable. You shouldn’t have been so surprised that he was there. Luna and Rolf had invited just about anyone they had ever been in contact with. Still, it was throwing you for a loop that Draco was sitting right in front of you.

It was the beautiful, gentle music that began to play overhead that finally snapped you out of your daze. Along with Luna and her newly wed husband, a few couples had broken away from their designated tables to slow dance on the dance floor of the reception. It didn’t take long for the floor to be crowded with people.

As hard as you tried, you couldn’t fight the urge to let your eyes flicker back to Draco. It was almost like an instinct. It was a natural behavioral thing that was still as sharp as ever. 

He wasn’t looking at you anymore, but his eyes were fixed on Astoria, who he had guided up from her seat and taken by the hand. A hot boiling sensation was building up in your gut at the sight of him leading her to the floor as well, holding her close and swaying with her to the comfort of the music. It wasn’t long before you were out on the floor as well, being spun around carefully by Blaise Zabini, whom you had been friends with throughout your years at Hogwarts. But your attention was far from Blaise.

Jealousy ran rampant through your core as you watched the way Draco’s hand rested on the small of Astoria’s back, his fingertips dancing across her. He looked down slightly into her dazzling eyes, a smile appearing on his face that was nothing short of lovestruck.

He had once danced with you like that. He had once held you like that. He had once looked at you like that. Granted, the situation usually involved the two of you alone in your living room under nothing but candlelight and music from one of your favorite shared records. But those were the moments that had always stuck with you.

The times where nothing else mattered but being together. The moments where the two of you felt like the only people in the world. When loving each other unconditionally was the only thing you ever wanted to do. Perhaps that was the hardest part of it all. The fact that you never knew where things went wrong. Your perfect relationship had crashed and burned unexpectedly with little explanations to why Draco decided that suddenly you weren’t enough. 

Draco caught you staring for the second time, his focus visibly moving from the woman that was currently in his arms. He had this look of uncertainty in his expression, but as if he had already made his mind up. Before you could process anything that was happening, Draco broke away from Astoria, and he was standing next to you and Blaise.

“Mind if I take [Y/N] from you, Blaise?” Draco smiled radiantly at his old friend.

Your stomach hit your shoes seemingly. Blaise smirked, still as coy as always. 

“Only if I can have a dance with your lady.” He grinned.

Draco chuckled lowly, allowing Blaise to take Astoria for a while. Despite everyone maneuvering around you, you felt like you were standing alone with Draco. You could only look at him, words failing to form. His hand trembled faintly as he held it out to you.

“Care to dance?” He offered.

Your head was screaming no, but your heart was screaming yes. You weren’t sure if this was a good idea or not, considering you weren’t sure what this was all about. But as always, your heart’s desires won out.

“Sure.” You replied meekly. 

A million fireworks exploded through you when his hand touched yours, pulling you in to him. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, his hands resting on your back the way they had with Astoria. He stroked your skin through the material of your dress, as lovingly as he had all the times before. 

You were equal parts frustrated and desperate. Frustrated with yourself for still longing for him and missing him after all this time. Desperate for things to be the way they were before.

“You look wonderful.” He spoke quietly, careful not to disturb the peace of the atmosphere.

Oh, his voice. It was still deep and husky, but full of thought. It sent shivers down your spine that you hoped he couldn’t feel with his hand resting there.

“So do you.” You responded, wishing your heart would slow just long enough to get a hold of yourself.

He continued to hold you flush to him, taking in the scent of that same perfume you always wore. It flooded him with memories and remembrance. 

Truth be told, you knew all along that you couldn’t get away with never seeing Draco again. Even if you hadn’t been together for quite some time, your circle was just too close to successfully dodge him forever. But this was not at all how you thought it would go.

If you were being completely honest, you thought you’d casually run into him in Diagon Alley or somewhere that you went often. You always imagined that you’d spot him from across the room and be filled with such a rage that you’d be too angry to speak to him or would explode into a huge fight scene. You’d storm out without ever trying to make real contact with him, and you’d try your hardest to go back to living as normally as possible. This was far from what you had ever dreamed of. 

And you weren’t as angry as you always thought you’d be. Admittedly, there was still a pit of fury from the fact of his infidelity. But there was another feeling that seemed to wash that pit out completely. You weren’t angry at all really. 

You were sad.

“How have you been?” He asked, stepping in sync with you to the music.

“Staying busy with work. How about you?”

You were a little shocked when he didn’t burst into rambles about everything you had missed out on in the last few years. Instead, he only shrugged as if he wasn’t too impressed with himself.

“I’ve been good. Mother and Father still ask about you.” He answered.

A quick glimmer of joy beamed on your face. Draco’s heart leapt with thrill.

“Do they? Oh, how are they, Dray?” You asked with eagerness to hear about his parents well-being, not even realizing the use of his nickname.

His heart swelled.

“They’re the same as always.” He replied.

You nodded briefly, changing the subject.

“That’s good,” You prompted, only continuing once nothing else was said; “It’s been a while.”

“It has. I’m happy you’re doing well.” Draco answered.

You had been trying to ignore it, but the cold metal of his ring was prevalent through your dress, and it told you everything you needed to know. 

“So, you’re married now, huh?” You wondered aloud.

The blush returned to his cheeks, and he sucked in a breath.

“Yeah. Almost a year now,” He confirmed; “You?” 

A flush of embarrassment and dread flooded your body. You didn’t want to have to tell him that you hadn’t moved on when he clearly had. It wasn’t that you hadn’t tried to meet and find someone new. A few boyfriends had come and gone since Draco, and while they were all great, none of them had captured your heart. Even if it had felt like it at times, the world didn’t stop spinning the night you left Draco Malfoy, so you knew there was someone else out there.

You just wished they’d come sooner rather than later.

“No, not yet. I suppose that I haven’t found the one yet.” You said in a way that was unintentionally hurtful, but still left a sting in both yours and Draco’s chest.

It felt like a lie to say that. You had convinced yourself that Draco was “the one” long ago. From time to time, you still thought that. Draco himself would confess that he had felt the same way about you. Spending forever with you was all he had ever wanted. Getting married, having kids, and falling more and more in love everyday.

He’d never forgive himself for messing all of that up.

Silence grew between the two of you. Something that never would’ve happened if the two of you were still together. You and Draco had never run out of things to talk about.

You remembered all the nights that he made love to you until neither of you could hold yourselves up. How could you forget the way he cherished every part of you as if it were crafted by the highest hand?

You recalled the way you craved his touch and how he could have you in a puddly, whining mess underneath his hands within mere seconds. You missed his touch. You missed all those times.

You missed him.

Now here you were. Like two total strangers who knew everything about each other. It was heartbreaking.

“I think about you. A lot.” Draco abruptly professed, his voice even quieter on the off chance that Astoria and Blaise might come back waltzing by.

Something you could only describe as pure shock blindsided you. You certainly weren’t expecting THAT at all. As much as you wanted to fling yourself at him, you knew this was wrong. Your head shook, feeling as if it weighed like a ton of bricks.

“Stop.” You meant to say as a stern instruction, but it came out more as a pleading whisper.

He chuckled at himself incredulously, not acknowledging your beg.

“It’s the truth,” He remarked; “You know, I thought that marrying Astoria would fix me. I thought it was going to fill the piece of my life that was missing.”

Your head was still rocketing off flight responses. Every neuron howling at you to stop listening. To ignore. To get over it. To forget. But you wouldn’t.

You couldn’t.

“But I was wrong. I was so wrong. It took me far too long to realize that you’re the only thing that could ever fill that missing piece. You complete that picture,” He explained; “You complete me.”

It was near impossible not to listen to what he was saying. If your heart were beating any harder then it would surely explode. Your eyes were shining with tears that you had been holding back for far too long.

“Draco, I...” You trailed off, your voice quivering.

“Shh. Don’t cry, my pretty girl,” He hushed; “I can leave her, you know. Astoria will never be what you were. I know it, and she knows it. She’ll never say that though.”

It seemed that you were growing more stunned with each word that fell from his lips. He was offering to leave his wife for you. He was more than willing to just drop everything for you. It was a lot to consider...but you weren’t exactly leaping at his invitation.

“We can start over. Just you and me. We can be everything we were before,” He said, leaning in to where his lips were just barely brushing your ear; “All you have to do is say yes.”

It was a hell of a tempting offer. You had a chance to go back to him, to make up for all the time that you lost. You could make more of those amazing memories that you held so close to you.

You could have a life with Draco once again.

As much as you wanted to cave and give him everything you possibly could, there was something that was stopping you from giving in to him. Because even though you had this chance, you knew that it would never be like it was before.

“I can’t.” You hushed out.

You could feel Draco’s heart sink. Now tears were brimming his own eyes, blearing his vision and causing a lump in his throat.

“Please, darling...” He begged; “Why not?”

You shook your head again, holding your breath to stop your own tears from falling down your cheeks. It was killing you to do this, but you knew it was the right thing.

No matter how bad it hurt.

“Because you and I both know it won’t be like it was before. No matter how many times we try to start over,” You told him; “You broke my trust. You broke my heart, Draco. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive you for what you did.”

Determination and desperation flashed over his features.

“It was a mistake. A horrible, stupid mistake that I know for a fact that I never would’ve let happen again if you had stayed.” He pleaded.

You swallowed hard, forcing a sob back down.

“And if I had stayed, I’d never be able to go a day without wondering if that’s actually true.” You recanted.

Draco was shattered. He felt like he had been broken into millions of tiny bits that were thrown across the world.

Now he truly knew how you had felt since you left him.

“[Y/N], I-“ He went to say but was cut off.

“I’m sorry, Draco.” You apologized, eyeing Astoria and Blaise beginning to dance their way over to the two of you.

A single tear slipped from Draco’s left eye, the tear rolling down all the way to his jaw. The fate he had feared the most had just come true.

He had just lost his forever. And there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

All he could do was make sure he bared the rest of his heart to the woman he loved the most.

“I love you.” Draco proclaimed.

One of your hands came to cup his face, his head lulling in your soft touch.

“I love you, Draco.”

Before anything else could be said, Astoria and Blaise were at your side. She looked at Draco and back to you, you weren’t sure what it was, but she almost looked as if she knew everything that had just been said.

Without another word, you and Draco stopped dancing. Your arms fell from around him and his hold loosened so you could step away. Astoria’s hand rested on Draco’s shoulder as if to usher him away, but his hands were still holding yours.

His icy eyes looked into yours, as if to silently ask you once more if you would come with him. The look in your eyes told him that your mind was made up. You backed away from him, his fingertips only falling from yours once you were far enough away that he physically couldn’t reach you anymore.

Astoria whisked him away once you were out of their space. Both of you feeling much more empty than before. The rest of the night was much quieter for you. You kept to yourself, feeling as if you had been gutted completely.

And that was the last time you saw Draco Malfoy.

Your first wish of never wanting to see him again came true after that night. You never saw or heard from him again. You constantly found yourself wondering how things turned out for him. You wondered if he stayed with Astoria. You wondered if they had kids. You wondered if they spent forever together.

You wondered if they did all the things that you and Draco were supposed to do.

Your heart never fully moved on from Draco. And his never moved on from you. It was a reality you were never able to come to terms with, but there was one truth that you became all too familiar with.

Sometimes there just are no happy endings.

[flowerpowelltales]

Until You Hate Me (Liam x MC)

PART THREE - THE BEGINNING

A/N: Yes, I do feel ashamed I forgot about this series for TWO years. I also am aware most of you, who have been tagged, dont even remember ever reading this series. If you’d like to be taken off the taglist just let me know because I don’t want to bother anyone. If you want a refresher - it’s the series where Regina pays Riley to be the worst suitor ever so that in two weeks, Liam would have to marry someone Regina picked for him. Previous parts are on my masterlist. Shoutout to the Nonny who motivated me to write this part. Hope y’all enjoy! Characters belong to PB. 

Rating: G

Word count: 1692

Tagging: @gardeningourmet @delightfullypinkglitter @blackcatkita @badchoicesposts @jared2612 @princess-geek @desiree-pow-35-1986​ @emichelle​ @ao719​ @cordoniantrash @kinggliam @needalittlerain @flyawayboo @nazariortega @jlpplays1 @kimmiedoo5 @annekebbphotography​ @ladyangel70​ @eadanga​ @kingliam2019​ @nz1091​ @emceesynonymroll @texaskitten30 @mskaneko​ @custaroonie @drakesensworld​ @janezillow @ritachacha​ @lodberg​ @msjr0119​ @gkittylove99​ @sweatyrysconnoisseur​ @dcbbw​ @potter1-7harry​

“Welcome to Cordonia,” Liam said when the Royal Jet finally landed. He looked at Riley warily as she took in the sights. The flight was a total disaster and made him rethink his whole life. If he hadn’t known better he’d think she wanted to sabotage his mission.

“Looks sick,” she said and Liam sighed.

“Liam, Riley, the car is here. Come before anyone spots us.” Regina nodded towards their driver.

“Whoa, we have our own driver? That’s mad!”

Regina raised an eyebrow in a ‘do-not-overdo-it’ manner but Riley ignored it. For her it was either go hard or go home. Literally, because if she failed she’d go home with no money.

The ride from the private airport to the palace was silent; Riley was admiring the views, Liam was thinking if he made the right choice and Regina was already planning Liam’s wedding to Madeleine.

When they arrived, Regina excused herself and went straight into her office.

“What do you think?” Liam asked politely when they were the only two left.

“It looks so… majestic. Like something I’d expect a palace look like but at the same time like something I wouldn’t expect. It’s gorgeous.”

Liam turned to her stunned by her words. What happened to “sick” and “mad”? Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad, after all.

“Come inside,” he said and extended his hands towards her. She took it and then gasped at the interior.

“It’s so regal and so big and oof—” Riley was almost knocked out by a small, fluffy ball that jumped at her.

“Ah, this is Chance, Maxwell’s dog. He must feel you’re a good person because he is never that happy about strangers.” Liam smiled as he leaned to take her coat. She handed it to him and when Liam walked away to hang it, she bent over to Chance. 

“Hey, buddy! I’m super flattered you like me but can you please bite me or start barking at me so Liam doesn’t think I’m good?” She asked and Chance titled his head in confusion. “You see,” she lowered her voice, “I have a mission to complete.”

When Chace still couldn’t understand, Riley tried to speak his language.

“Woof woof woof woof,” she barked at Chance in low voice.

“Um… is everything okay, lady Riley?” Liam asked, suddenly appearing behind her. Shoot.

“Mhm. Just talking to that cute little muffin. And please, call me Riley. I’m no lady.”

“If you insist. Would you like to see your room?”

“Sure! Does it have a mini fridge? I bet it’s totally dope!”

Liam shook his head in disbelief. Riley changed her mood every few minutes. He couldn’t figure her out. Sometimes she was serious and really fun to talk to but then she changed again and acted like a spoiled teenager.

“Here we are.” Liam motioned the room when they finally reached the guest chamber. “It doesn’t have a mini fridge but you can call any of the staff members to ask for whatever you’d like, anytime.”

“Cool.”

“Ah, Liam! Riley! I am so glad to see you both here!” Regina exclaimed with a smiled on her face. “We have a dinner today with a few of our friends. Liam, please help lady Riley to prepare for it.”

“Of course, Regina. Who are we expecting?” Liam asked.

“Duchess Olivia Nevrakis, Lord Neville, Duchess Adelaide, her daughter and Duke Godfrey, lady Hana Lee and her parents, and a few of the court members.”

Liam nodded politely but started to panic internally. Lord Neville, Godfrey and Adelaide weren’t exactly the first people he wanted Riley to be introduced to. He knew too well how they treated commoners and how awful they could be. He had only about two hours before the dinner to go through the royal protocol, table manners, dress code and how to address who. When he looked up at Riley he noticed she was already studying him.

“Everything’s alright?”

“Yes, it is. I just thought we would have more time before your debut.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that! I was born ready!” she said reassuringly, which, ironically, made Liam even less reassured.

~~~~

“So when I see Hana Lee’s dad I should say ‘ni hao’, right?”

“Correct! And can you please repeat how you would address Duchess Olivia?”

“Your Grace,” Riley replied.

“Exactly. And Lord Neville?”

“…Also your Grace?”

“Yes. How would you address me, then?”

“Your Majesty?”

“No, Majesty is used for Kings and Queens. I’m not a King yet so I ought to be addressed ‘your Highness’.”

“So Regina is her Majesty?” Riley asked.

“Precisely. Now, what is my title?”

“Prince?”

“Full title.”

“Prince Louis of Cordonia.”

“Ye—What? What Louis?”

“Your name isn’t Louis?”

“No,” he shook his head. “It’s Liam.”

“Oh, right! Sorry, I’ve always had a problem with remembering names.”

Liam smiled but wanted to scream. Remembering names was probably one of the most important things Riley had to learn. And she forgot even his.

“Let me get this straight, when I talk to you I always have to use ‘your highness’?”

“When we’re with nobility, yes. It shows respect. When there’s only me and you, or friends and family, you can call me by my name,” he explained.

“Which is Louis!”

“Liam,” he corrected. Again.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Riley apologized. “I’ll just need something to associate you with… Oh! I know! I used to listen to One Direction a lot and Liam was the name of one of the singers! I liked him a lot!”

“Whatever works for you.” Liam smiled, feeling less and less enthusiastic about his mission.

~~~~

Two hours and three braincell losses later, Riley was walking arm in arm with Liam, into the ballroom. She was wearing a very expensive dress, more expensive than everything she owned altogether. She was very stressed and started to regret coming here. Pretending to be the worst suitor in front of Liam was one thing, but pretending to be the worst suitor in front of all Cordonian nobility was a completely different thing.

“Look, there’s Xinghai, he’s coming here,” Liam whispered and Riley nodded as the man approached them. Liam nudged Riley.

Okay. Show time.

“Hey hoe!” She yelled, making everyone freeze.

I hate myself.

“Riley!” Liam hissed, pinching her arm.

“Excuse me?” Xinghai asked as if not believing his ears.

“I think Riley tried to say ‘ni hao’, is that right?” Liam raised his eyebrows and Riley felt sick.

“Yes! Ni hao! I’m so sorry, I’m very bad at languages!”

Xinghai shook his head. “If you say so.”

“Hi, I’m Hana! And this is my mother, Lorelai.” A girl with a very friendly face extended her hand as if she hadn’t noticed that huge faux-pas. Her mom barely smiled at her.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Your Highness.” A man approached them and raised a glass. “I feel deeply honored to be invited here today. Her Majesty mentioned you would bring an American suitor, is this that lovely lady?”

Riley didn’t know who it was but she sure hated him already. She looked at Liam and realized she wasn’t the only one thinking so.

“Lord Neville. I am very happy you could join us. Yes, this is lady Riley, my suitor. Lady Riley, this is Lord Neville.”

“Lord? Like Lord of the Rings? Is that even a real title?” she asked.

“Excuse me?” Neville was confused and Liam embarrassed. From the corner of her eye, Riley could see Regina smiling at the sight.

At least someone is happy with what I’m doing.

“I believe we haven’t met.” A blond woman interrupted them, holding a glass of champagne in one hand and a very unhappy man in the other.

“This is Duchess Adelaide, Duke Godfrey and their daughter, Countess Madeleine. And this lovely woman by my side is lady Riley.”

“Hi y’all! Louis told me so much about you!” She heard Liam sighing.

“Hmph” was all Godfrey said. The rest of the family looked confused.

“Who’s Louis?” Adelaide asked.

“What happened to One Direction association?” Liam whispered to her when the family wasn’t looking.

“I forgot Louis was in the band, too,” she replied.

“If you excuse us,” Liam turned to Adelaide, “but we need to say hello to Duchess Olivia. Thank you for coming.”

He quickly led Riley far from Adelaide and Godfrey, avoiding other court members on the way. He couldn’t do this. At least not today. Riley clearly wasn’t ready.

“Why hello there,” a lady with red hair and a matching dress greeted them.

“Olivia. Hello. How are you?” Liam started a small talk and Riley noticed he was more relaxed talking to her than he was talking to other people. She must be a friend, she thought.

“I’m great. Haven’t been to a party that is as much fun as this one. And it’s all thanks to you. I’m Olivia.”

“Riley. You’re the Ice Queen?” Riley asked remembering Lythikos was a winter wonderland. She hoped Olivia would be offended just like the others but to her surprise the Duchess burst out laughing.

“Ice Queen! I like her already,” she said as she wiped a tear from her eye. “Absolutely loved when she questioned Neville’s title. The man’s pain in the ass.”

“I’m glad you find it funny,” Liam said firmly. Olivia shrugged and turned to take another glass of wine.

“I’m really sorry I embarrassed you, Louis.”

“Liam,” he corrected.

“Liam,” Riley repeated. “I’ve just came to Cordonia and had only two hours to take it all in. I’ll be better in time.” Not sure how better at making you hate me I can get though.

“It’s fine. Listen, it’s me who should be apologizing. As you said, you just came here and within a few hours you had to learn things I learned throughout the years.”

Riley’s eyes widened. She embarrassed him, she humiliated him and he still apologized? She felt awful.

“I still feel bad. I promise I won’t let you down,” she lied and Liam smiled.

“I’m happy to hear that because we’re visiting our apple orchard tomorrow and the press will be there to meet you, too.”

Riley gulped as she smiled at Liam.

That only meant she had to try even harder.

[pricemarshfield]

captain

Written for Day 7 of @acocweek​; Romance + Saccharina. Read on AO3 here.

"I'll be sending Annabelle Cheddar as my diplomat for the discussion of how Candia's new borders affects the Dairy Islands," says Primsy Coldbottle in her letter. It's not a big deal, thankfully. The Dairy Islands hadn't really lost any land, or even much sea, after Liam's Wish. It mostly dug into Fructera, into Ceresia, even into the edges of Vegetania. Considerate, to leave the Meatlands and the Islands out of it.

But magic's always been a good thing, so Saccharina's not surprised.

"Cool that I get to see Annabelle again," says Ruby. "Did I ever tell you Jet had a crush on her? I mean, I'm pretty sure anyway."

"No," says Saccharina. "This is the Annabelle Cheddar who rejected her throne because she didn't want to get married, right?"

"Yeah! Don't talk to her about it, though. Jet brought it up during the tourney and Annabelle asked her not to again." Ruby's face twists a little, like it always does if they talk about Jet, and adds, "Guess she won't."

"Well," Saccharina says. "Thank you for telling me. You said Jet liked her?"

"She just really wanted to impress her," says Ruby. "I mean, I did, too, but Jet fully gave her Emperor Uvano's boon and told her she wouldn't marry anyone in front of everybody."

Saccharina laughs. As always, Jet sounds like someone she would've loved to meet, to know as a sister. It doesn't hurt in the same way everyone who knew her hurts, Saccharina knows that, more a dull ache than a stabbing pain, but it's still...rough, sometimes. "So. Anything else I need to avoid for Annabelle?"

"I'll be honest," Ruby says. "I don't think you can do worse than we all did already. Theo insulted her honor pretty badly. Liam propositioned her using his parents."

Saccharina snorts. "Sounds like him."

"He's a weird guy," says Ruby fondly. "But I think that's everything. Just don't be--you know. 'Candian'." She says that with exaggerated air quotes. "Apparently pissing contests aren't a literal thing in other places in Calorum."

"I know!" says Saccharina. "I grew up in the Dairy Islands, remember?" She can't quite make eye contact with Ruby when she says it, and it comes out a little higher-pitched than she meant it to, but Ruby doesn't push, and they get through it with neither of them crying or pulling weapons.

"There is one thing," Ruby says. "Um."

"Did she know about--Amethar and Caramelinda's wedding?" Saccharina asks. It's still a point of contention, even though it ended up not mattering too much, with Amethar as Emperor.

"No," Ruby adds, and Sacchrina breaths out a sigh of relief. "But she was as upset about Port Syrup as I was."

"I didn't--"

"I know," Ruby says. "And Cinnamon's different now, and you weren't there. But she probably doesn't know that."

"Great!" Saccharina says. "I've got a lot of experience with people I admired and wanted to meet hating me. It'll be fine."

"That's--wait, you admired Annabelle?" Ruby asks, skipping over the part Saccharina already regrets saying. "Why?"

"She didn't want to do what they wanted her to do!" Saccharina says brightly. "I heard about it when I was still captain on my first ship. Plus, her navy never bothered me."

"That's because you mostly raided Candia," Ruby points out, and Saccharina shrugs.

"I wish she'd have been queen instead," Saccharina says with a little sigh. Ruby narrows her eyes. "I love Primsy, but it would have been fun to have another ruler around my age, you know?"

"Not really," Ruby says, voice gone conspiratorial for some reason. "Why?"

"Just would be," Saccharina says. "Why's your face doing that?"

"Doing what?" Ruby asks, failing to hide her smile. "I'm just thinking about how much you're like Jet."

"Thanks?" Saccharina says, knowing that to Ruby, that's the highest of compliments. But it doesn't really fit the conversa--wait.

"I do not have a crush on Annabelle Cheddar."

"Are you sure?" Ruby says, and dodges when Saccharina sends a handful of harmless sparks her way. "I mean, you just seem like you'd like to have an excuse to see her. It's not like Liam's the only one of us who can have a political marriage."

"Liam liked Primsy and you know that," Saccharina says grumpily. "Also, I'm the Queen and I have a dragon. I don't need to marry for political reasons. And I wouldn't anyway! And neither would Annabelle, that's why I even heard of her!"

"Sure, sure," says Ruby. "Don't worry. I get it."

"I don't think you do!" Saccharina says, and even though she's annoyed, there's a little rush of warmth at the banter, at getting to be teased for something so simple. Especially since it's completely ridiculous.

---

Annabelle Cheddar is tall and handsome and Saccharina maybe gets where Jet was coming from, is the thing.

"Your Majesty," she says. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"You as well," says Saccharina. "I've heard of your accomplishments from my sister. Thank you for helping my family after--well. After."

"Of course," Annabelle says with a little nod. "It was the right thing to do."

Saccharina's not sure if Annabelle means right morally or politically, but either way, she'll take it. "Still. Candia appreciates their allies in the Dairy Islands."

"Hopefully for these taxes," Annabelle says with a small grimace. "I have to say, this political stuff isn't exactly my forte."

"Aren't you a sailor?" Saccharina asks, lounging in the comfiest chair she's found so far in Castle Candy. Annabelle sits across from her, sword at her side, casual in a way Saccharina still can't quite manage, even with family around her.

"I was," Annabelle says, and there's open grief in the way her head ducks. "My ship, the Colby, sank after House Bleu attacked us to try and kill Primsy. I'm very glad your sisters were there to help us; we wouldn't have been able to save her or ourselves without them."

"I'm glad," Saccharina says, because she'd never have gotten this far without the support of the Dairy Islands, and also because it's very, very cool to see the woman sitting across from her.

"What about you?" Annabelle says. "Captain of the Frosted Fleet's in one of your titles, isn't it?"

Saccharina nods. "I haven't been on the Dairy Sea in so long, but I met most of my people when I was still--"

"Pirating?" Annabelle says, and Saccharina nods with only a little embarrassment. She's past being ashamed of what she needed to do to survive, but it's a little harder to connect to it from a castle rather than a cave. "Well, thanks for not attacking the Islands as much as you could."

Saccharina had drowned an island and doesn't regret it to this day, but she hadn't wanted to attack anyone other than the nuns. Some small and stupid part of her had hoped that her mom was alive, would come back to her if she held back the worst parts of herself.

"My issues were always with Candia," Saccharina lies, and Annabelle laughs.

---

The border issues are easy; they both still pay the same amount to the Concord, because the Dairy Islands lost almost nothing to Candia's borders changing, and none of the other nations are willing to muscle in on the oldest and strongest alliance between any two nations of Calorum.

But Annabelle doesn't just leave. When Saccharina works up the courage to ask her about it, hoping it won't come across as asking her to leave or, worse, hoping she'll stay, Annabelle just says, "I don't have much else to do. Primsy's been enjoying ruling and she's more than safe with the spirits of the wide sea protecting her. Thanks for that, by the way!"

"I think that one's Liam's fault, actually," Saccharina says. "I helped wake a few of the Meatlanders beast spirits, but Liam's wish spread magic as well as sugar."

"Sweet of him," Annabelle says wryly. "If he hurts Primsy, you know we'll go to war for it, right?"

"If he hurts Primsy, I'll be on your side," Saccharina says, and Annabelle claps a hand on her shoulder. Saccharina's face is so warm, what the hell, she normally runs almost freezing.

"Good woman," Annabelle says, and Saccharina turns her head just long enough to see Ruby make another face at her. "What's that about?"

"Just sister things!" Saccharina says quickly. Too quickly? She doesn't want to embarrass herself in front of a new friend(?), even if it's just because Ruby has a ridiculous guess about something that isn't even a real thing, anyway, so it isn't a big deal.

"I wouldn't know about that," Annabelle says, voice heavy with regret.

"We've never talked about--you know," Saccharina says.

"Just with leaving it at that, you've had more tact than the rest of your family put together, your Majesty," Annabelle says. "I'd rather not discuss the great shame of my life in a room with other people."

"Great shame?" Saccharina asks, disbelieving, before shaking her head. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to pry."

"Forgiven," Annabelle says, a smile at the corner of her mouth. Saccharina keeps her eyes on it for a little long; she has a nice smile, that's all. "I might retire for the night; Candian celebrations are a bit much for me. Good night, your Majesty."

Then Annabelle does the wildest thing; takes Saccharina's hand, gently kisses the back of it, and leaves while Saccharina stares into nothing about it.

"So," Ruby says, and Saccharina does not hit her with the Winterscoop, because she is a good and forgiving person. "How's that not-having-a-crush-on-Annabelle going?"

"I--don't," Saccharina says, but this time it comes out weird and stilted. "I mean, anyone would be flustered by Annabelle Cheddar kissing their hand."

"No," Ruby says, then pauses. "Well, yeah, but it's not just that. You spend so much time with her, and she doesn't even have a reason to be here anymore!"

"She's just bored," Saccharina says. "She's not in charge of running the Dairy Islands, she's basically just on vacation."

"Saccharina," Ruby says. "I say this as your sister, who l--I say this as your sister."

"I'm going to be distracted by that until you finish the thought."

"I don't think I can right now and if you push it I will tell Annabelle that you stared off into space for a solid minute after that," Ruby says, and Saccharina should've let Cinnamon eat her, probably. "But listen. I really think you should just tell Annabelle you like her."

"I don't even like her," Saccharina says. "Also, even if I did, hypothetically, she's pretty vocally not interested in romance. Besides, I'm busy with Candia. And I still have to try and bring back magic in other countries, too."

"Wow," Ruby says. "Do you have any other excuses, or do you think you're all done?"

Saccharina crosses her arms and tries to glare at her sister, but it's hard to stay annoyed when the person you're mad at keeps giggling.

"Trust me, okay?" Ruby says. "Tell her."

---

Saccharina does not tell her anything. There isn't even anything to tell. It's not as though Saccharina's never had crushes before--when she met Gooey, she wanted to be just like her for the first few months until their relationship mellowed out into friendship and fierce loyalty.

This isn't that! It's just respect and admiration for someone who helped make sure that her family was safe, helped her win a war and take a throne, albeit indirectly.

It's just that she's getting used to having Annabelle around, even if she's not quite used to everything Annabelle does. Annabelle, who sits at her side every dinner after the hand kiss incident, who tells her stories about storms on the sea that make them sound like something new to Saccharina, who listens when Saccharina tells her about what magic feels like.

"I wish you had it," Saccharina admits, hopes Annabelle doesn't hate her for it. "I know magic is--I know not a lot of people in the Dairy Islands trust it. But it's something beautiful."

"I won't pretend I didn't have my suspicions," Annabelle says. "Especially after Port Syrup."

"Oh, you don't need to worry about Cinnamon," Saccharina interrupts. "He ate from Liam's weird tree so now he's not connected to the Hungry One anymore."

"...right," Annabelle says. "I don't think I'll ever get used to you Candians, actually. Sometimes you open your mouth and the most wild assortment of words I've ever heard comes out and you act like it's totally normal."

"It is normal," Saccharina says. "That's--it's hard to say, but magic is normal. It was just buried. I'm trying to unbury it. Everyone should have it, not just Candians."

"You sure?" Annabelle asks. "Because you know the other countries might come after us if they have magic enough to make a real go of it."

The thing she should focus on in that sentence is not us, but Saccharina's heart flutters a little at it anyway.

There might be something to Ruby's theory.

---

"You're leaving?" Saccharina asks, feeling, irrationally, betrayed. Annabelle had never promised to stay by her side, all but admitted she was only waiting for something better to come along so she didn't have to stay with the wild Candians. But it hurts anyway, knowing someone else is leaving Saccharina.

It doesn't help that Ruby's found that flyer for the Swirler Sisters, either. She loves Cinnamon and he loves her but it's not the same without people around.

"Primsy's built me another ship," Annabelle says. "It's not--nothing will replace the Colby, but my crew's itching to get back to sea, and I am, too. You've been incredibly welcoming, Your Majesty, and this is not at all about your hospitality."

"Good," Saccharina says, because she does still take pride in their guest rooms. "I--it was good to get to know you. I'll miss you."

"You've got those white chocolate ravens, yeah?" Annabelle asks, standing a little straighter.

"I--yes," Saccharina says, confused by the non-sequiter.

"Can they carry letters?"

"I don't see why not," Saccharina says.

"Good," Annabelle says, and tilts up Saccharina's face so that she's looking right into Annabelle's eyes. "Now I hope I'm not misreading things."

"Um," Saccharina says, heart beating so fast she can feel it in her ears.

"And I still don't plan to marry, even if it is to a woman as impressive as you," Annabelle continues, and Saccharina feels lightning spark in her fingertips. "Bulb above, Candians."

"I'd love to send you letters," Saccharina says, brain finally catching up, and Annabelle grins. "Are you going to kiss me or am I just going crazy?"

"Well, crazy is part and parcel of your family, your Majesty," Annabelle says, and kisses Saccharina's frown away.

---

"You owe me thirty gold pieces," Ruby tells Swifty, staring at this from the ramparts. Saccharina really needs to learn to have private conversations in places where there aren't any hiding places for her.

"I could just push you off," he says, gesturing with his knife to emphasize it, but throws some gold at her, so Ruby doesn't think he's actually that upset.

[exhaustedfander]

moxiety with fake dating? mayhaps with some gay panicking because ahhh cute stranger hold hngg hand??

I was having such stupid technical difficulties ith Word, but here it is, sorry it’s been like three weeks, lol. I’d love to hear what you think! 

a03 link

word count: 3,008

Fake it Till You Make it 

Virgil’s always careful whilst staking out a seat in the coffee shop he frequents. He makes sure not to sit in an area that’s too crowded, as to bypass unnecessary human-contact, while simultaneously avoiding the table too close to the door that lets a draft in. He’s been coming here a long time now, as it’s the closest place to his College, as well as the fact that the coffee is reasonably priced, and the atmosphere is pretty damn cozy. Also… there’s a barista that happens to be the cutest man Virgil’s ever laid his eyes on, but that’s beside the point! 

By now, all of the staff know his order – a cinnamon Cappuccino with enough whipped cream to drown in – like the back of their hands, so he has to worry about social interaction a lot less than usual. The adorable barista in question, Patton, has only ever taken his order, sweet as can be while doing so, but Virgil’s never really talked to the guy. Not that he plans on it! That is waaay too nerve-racking to so much as think about, thank you very much. Sure, he can get lost in those ocean-blue eyes and often fantasizes about running his hand through those strawberry-blonde curls but talking to him is strictly out of the question. He likes this coffee spot and would really hate to have to find a new shop all because he’s made a fool of himself. 

So, it’s not hard to imagine Virgil’s utter shock when he finds that very same barista standing beside him, a dazzling smile on his face.

“Is this seat taken?” He asks, in reference to the chair beside him, and Virgil’s fairly sure he forgets how to breathe for a moment. 

“Uh – no,” he manages to stutter, “It’s all yours, man.” The barista grins, sitting beside him. 

“Thanks… Virgil, right?” Virgil blinks surprised he’d remember something as inconsequence as his name. 

“Yeah,” Virgil says, “My, uh, friends call me Virge. You can, too, if you wanted to.” Virgil despises the way his voice is trembling; why is he so fucking nervous? It’s just basic, human, social interaction (with the most beautiful man to grace this Earth, but basic, human social interaction nonetheless)

“Sure, thing, Virge. I’m Patton,” he says, as though Virgil hadn’t memorized the name on his nametag the moment, he saw him. “I like your pin, by the way.” 

Virgil glances down at the Bisexual pin on his backpack, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. It’s not like he’s missed the rainbow shirt he’s seen peeking out from behind Patton’s apron sometimes – an apron he doesn’t currently have on, meaning he’s off the clock, also meaning instead of going home, he’s sitting here, talking to him. So, yeah, Patton’s probably gay, and he’s talking to him, but that doesn’t actually mean anything. It doesn’t stop Virgil from panicking quite a bit, though. 

“Thanks,” Virgil says, trying his absolute hardest to keep his cool. He’s wanted to talk to Patton for so long, but he hadn’t imagined it would ever actually happen. 

“You come here a lot, huh?” Patton asks. Virgil rubs at the back of his neck, struggling to maintain eye-contact. 

“Uh- yeah. This is a cool place, and it’s not too far from my school.” Virgil fails to mention the fact that Patton’s a big reason he comes in nearly daily, thinking such a detail might come off as super creepy.

As awkward as Virgil is, a conversation is struck up. He learns that Patton is a student at his college, too (How the fuck did he manage to miss a face like that??) and that he’s studying to be a Veterinarian, which Virgil finds a little funny, considering he’s terribly allergic to cats. Patton’s a big fan of dad-jokes and puns, and while he can try and groan, it just manages to make Patton all the more adorable. He also discovers that yes, Patton is gay and that he first came about a year ago. 

“Yeah, my parents weren’t too thrilled,” Patton says in a voice that’s desperately trying to stay chipper, but the sorrow creeps in all the same, “They still aren’t.” 

“Mine either,” Virgil says before he really knows what he’s saying, “I haven’t, uh, talked to them in a long time. I might never again, honestly.” A look of sympathy crosses Patton’s face, though it’s clear that he relates, maybe more than he wants to admit to himself. 

“I’m so sorry to hear that, Virge.” 

Virgil shrugs. It’s nothing new. He came out to his parents at seventeen, a choice that was quite the feat considering the level of anxiety he suffers from, and it hadn’t gone well at all. His folks hadn’t kicked him out, but they’d insisted that he was never to take a boy home. At first, Virgil had tried to get on their good side, they were his parents, after all. But it didn’t take long for him to realize what a fruitless venture that was. They weren’t going to change, regardless of how much he wanted them to. 

Once he got to college, he had an opportunity to meet a few really great people, despite his social-anxiety, individuals who had shown him how important it is to have positive relationships in life. At this point, it could undo a few years of positive change to let his parents back into his life, and Virgil wasn’t about to go and do a thing like that.

“It’s alright,” he says, “They’re assholes, anyway. I got some pretty cool relatives though, and some really good friends, so that helps.” Patton frowns, and suddenly Virgil decides he despises the sad expression on him, wondering what the hell he could do to make it go away.

“My parents are assholes too,” Patton murmurs, as though saying such a word is incomprehensively bad, and as if Virgil hadn’t said it too about three seconds ago. “They really are. I’ve been trying. Trying so hard to be patient with them and allow them time to adjust but… it just isn’t happening. They’re still talking about when I end up with “some lucky lady.” I don’t know…” Patton pauses, his eyes widening, “Oh my goodness, I’m sorry.” Virgil tilts his head. 

“What for?”

“For dumping all that on you. I mean, we hardly know each other. It was rude of me.” 

“Nah, man, you’re good. I was just talking about my parents, there’s no reason to apologize. And I should know, I’m kind of the king of apologizing for shit I didn’t do.” Patton cracks a small smile at that, and Virgil swells with a pit too much pride. “My point is, you didn’t overshare, or anything. We’re just having a conversation, you’re good, I promise.” Patton looks relieved. 

“Thanks, Virgil. You’re really nice.” Virgil’s heart can’t help but soar a little bit at that. Sometimes, he’s convinced he’s a massive asshole, despite his friends insisting that it isn’t. but it’s really nice to know that Patton thinks he’s nice.

“No prob, Pat. You’re nice too.”

“Well then, I’m glad we were able to break the nice,” Patton says, earning a half-hearted groan. “I’ve kinda wanted to talk to you for a while, actually.” Virgil’s heart skips a beat. 

“R-really? Why?”

“Because,” Patton says with a smile, “You always seemed so interesting. Mentioning your Pin was, uh, kind of just an excuse to talk to you,” Patton admits and, holy shit, is he flirting?! Virgil can’t tell, but sirens are going off in his head regardless. 

“I – uh,” Virgil bites his tongue, trying to come up with a dignified response of some kind, but failing to do so. “Thanks?” Despite Virgil’s criminal lack of tact, Patton just smiles, a look that quickly disappears when he gets a notification and checks his phone.

“What’s up?” Virgil asks, before realizing it’s hardly his business. He’s known Patton for what? An hour or so now – oh my god, Patton’s been talking to him for over an hour – and that doesn’t give Virgil the authority to inquire upon the barista’s personal life beyond what he’s already been told. Patton shakes his head.

“My cousin Dalilah getting married next week,” Patton explains, despite Virgil’s hesitation, “She’s one of the only family members who I’m really close to; she’s such a sweetheart.”

“Then what’s wrong?” 

“My mom and dad are going to be at the wedding,” Patton sighs, “And I don’t have a date. If I show up without some guy on my arm, I know they’re just gonna assume that the crisis is over, and they can set me up with the next available girl. They already think me being gay is a phase, this is all the reason they need to think the phase is over.” A sad look flickers in Patton’s eyes and instantly, all logic or uncertainty that Virgil’s clinging to goes out the window.

“What if I was your date?” Patton’s eyes go as wide as saucers and, oh shit, he really just said that aloud.

“W-what?”

“L-like a fake date,” Virgil backpedals, his heart rate spiking in a matter of seconds, “So t-that your parents aren’t dicks to you. Or at least, are less of dicks.” 

For a moment, Virgil almost dares to think that the explanation made Patton look kinda… disappointed? Not that it would make much sense, it’s not like he’d actually want Virgil to be his date. 

“Virgil you… you can’t be serious.”

“Well, why not?” Virgil asks, knowing he’s most probably going to regret this later, “You’re a cool guy who’s in a shitty situation. Your parents are going to be relentless to you, and I don’t like the idea of that, so… why don’t I make things a little easier for you?” Virgil says, impressed he gets through it without feeling as anxious as he had a few moments ago. 

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Patton mumbles guiltily, his eyes cast on the table, “I wouldn’t want you to sacrifice your weekend just for me.” 

“Pat, I was just gonna aimlessly scroll through Tumblr till two in the morning and watch shitty TV. And– erm– being your fake date sounds a lot more interesting to me.” (Not to mention nerve-racking!) Patton meets Virgil’s gaze once more, relief etched into his features.

“You’d really be willing to do this?” Patton asks, “You don’t need to, you know.”

“I want to,” Virgil assures. “So, what do you say?” Patton thinks for a moment before that beautiful smile spreads across his face anew.

“That sounds perfect! Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” Patton says, standing up from his chair and throwing his arms around the emo, “You’re a lifesaver, Virgil!” Virgil stiffens in the awkward embrace, before accepting it to the best of his ability, trying not to freak out because Patton fucking Hart is hugging him! 

“Sure thing, Pat.” 

After that, arrangements are made. As it turns out, Patton isn’t the biggest fan of lying, hates it, honestly, which makes things a little trickier. But a compromise is come to that they met each other in the Coffee shop, which was true and had been on a few dates prior to the wedding. While that wasn’t technically true (God does Virgil wish it was) they do spend several days throughout the week hanging out and getting to know one another. And within those few days, Virgil’s infatuation with Patton inflames to a full-on crush which is just great.

Getting better acquainted with him, Virgil finds himself quickly getting used to Patton’s bubbly personality. He’s eager to pet every dog he comes into contact with, he enjoys baking quite a bit, though he’s not great at it, he’s adorably awkward in the best ways and he’s one of the kindest, most genuine people Virgil’s ever met. 

Usually, Virgil’s so well-guarded, but with Patton, he’s opening up quicker and more willingly than he has in such a long time. Patton listens with such compassion, and while Virgil’s really happy to have the other friends that he does, he’s never met someone as sweet as Patton is. It’s almost a little overwhelming at times, how caring he is. 

Before they know it, the day is upon them. Virgil gets a rental suite while trying not to swoon at Patton in his sky-blue tux, because really, how is it legal for him to look that cute?

Patton grabs his hand the moment they walk into the venue, sending Virgil a careful glance and squeezing his hand just slightly.

“This okay?” He whispers, ever the compassionate one, and Virgil nods.

“Yeah, ‘s okay.” Virgil can’t recall the last time someone held his hand, and he certainly can’t remember the number of times he’s imagined Patton holding his hand, prior to them even being friends. 

They take their seats, and the ceremony proceeds as usual. It’s beautiful, not that Virgil is paying too much attention, distracted by Patton’s nervous glances toward an older couple that must be his folks.

“Hey, are you alright?” Virgil asks quietly. Patton forces a smile, his eyes trained on his cousin and her fiancé.

“Yeah, I’m – I’m fine,” – he doesn’t sound fine –, “It’s just…” Patton trails off, his gaze flickering back to his parents for a moment. Virgil places his hand over Patton’s, who’s trembling is noticeable immediately. Carefully, Virgil runs his thumb over Patton’s knuckles in an even, circular motion. Luckily, it seems to calm Patton down to a degree, and he doesn’t take his eyes off of Dalilah for the rest of the ceremony. 

However, almost immediately upon the afterparty starting, they’re cornered by Mr. and Mrs. Hart.

“Patton, you didn’t come and say hello,” his mother scolds. 

“Well, there were a lot of people,” Patton says nervously, “I figured we’d –.”

“Who’s this?” Patton’s father interrupts, gesturing to Virgil standing beside him.

“Virgil Storme,” Virgil says as calmly as he’s able, extending a hand for the father to shake. Mr. Hart’s hand remains rigid at his side. “I’m Patton’s boyfriend. It’s nice to meet you.” 

Virgil can’t help but notice as anxiety wells up inside of him because, fuck, they’d never said they were going to call each other boyfriend’s, just that they’d been on a few dates, but Mr. Hart had such a smug look and he couldn’t help it. Despite his raging internal monologue, Patton plants a hand onto the small of his back, lips curling into a smile.

“That’s right,” Patton says, “Mom, Dad, this is my boyfriend.” 

The look of slackened shock on their faces would be priceless, weren’t it for the fact that these are still Patton’s parents, individuals who’ve had a direct influence on him throughout the entirety of his life.

“You’ve never – you’ve never mentioned a boyfriend before,” Patton’s mother says, glaring at her son. 

“And certainly not one who looks like some kind of a hooligan,” Mr. Hart grits, gesturing to Virgil’s dyed purple hair and pierced ears. Virgil intends to let the insult go, as it would only cause more trouble to confront it, but Patton has other ideas.

“Hey, you have no right to talk like that about Virgil,” Patton says, an edge to his voice that Virgil had yet to hear until now. Virgil grips for Patton’s hand, lacing their fingers together and giving him a reassuring squeeze.

“How long has this been going on, sweetie?” Mrs. Hart chimes in, though it’s unclear if she’s referring to Virgil himself, or Patton’s sexuality as a whole. Either way, it’s a poor choice of words.

“My whole life, mom,” Patton spits, a venomous tone that would surely be louder if they weren’t at a wedding, “I’ve been gay my whole life, and nothing is going to change that.”

“But –.”

“But, nothing,” Patton interrupts boldly, “I’m not having this conversation, not again. If you can’t accept the fact that I’m never going to end up with ‘some nice girl,’ and that Virgil is absolutely wonderful, then we haven’t got anything to talk about.”

The words are a slap across Mr. and Mrs. Hart's face, who reel back in shock. 

“Patton, son –.”

“Goodbye,” Patton says, realizing it might very well be the last time he says it. He begins walking out of the reception and Virgil follows close behind. They make it outside, and luckily there’s no one else around.

“Pat… are you okay?” Virgil asks, reaching out to touch Patton’s shoulder.

“I’m done, Virgil. I’m done being gentle for them, I’m done pretending. It’s not worth it.” Pride wells in Virgil, even though he’s known Patton a little less than a week. 

“Well, then, I can tell you that was amazing! You kicked ass, Patton! Did you see the stupid look on their faces? They were so –.” Virgil is quickly interrupted when Patton’s lips collide against his, fingers gripping his lapels. Virgil needs a second to adjust and realize this is actually happening before he kisses back just as fervidly, his hands threading in Patton’s curls that are soft to the touch, just as he’d always imagined. 

“We’re – we’re not still pretending, right?” Virgil asks dumbly, and Patton shakes his head with a laugh, light, and airy.

“No, no of course not. Unless… you want it to be pretend?” 

“No! God, n-no! You’re amazing, Pat, you’re so kind, and soft and good and cute and… oh god, I’m rambling.” Patton giggles again, and Virgil decides it’s one of the best sounds he’s had the pleasure of hearing. 

“It’s cute.” 

“You’re cuter.”

“No, you are.”

The never-ending debacle of who is cuter is decidedly ended when their lips meet again, and Virgil’s positive this outweighs anything fantasy had to offer.

In the end, Patton hasn’t told a lie. Virgil is his boyfriend, even if they didn’t start the day out that way. The two walk back into the venue, hand-in-hand, watching as the Hart’s avert their eyes and Patton happily introduces Virgil to the family and friends who matter. 

Virgil’s never been so glad he walked into that coffee shop.

=+=

Taglist:

@nadiestar

@unoriginalgayboyalex 

@maryann-draws

Please let me know if you wanna be added to my general taglist! I’d be happy to add folks!

[lady-divine-writes]

31 Days of Ineffables - “To Love, Nourish, and Protect” (Rated PG13)

Summary: A disastrous batch of chocolate chip cookies and a heartbroken apology lead Aziraphale to wonder why Crowley has suddenly decided to go all house-husband on him. (1462 words)

Notes: Written for @drawlight's '31 Days of Ineffables' prompt 'cookies'.

Read on AO3.

“Merry Christmas. I’m sorry.”

Crowley throws a plate of cookies down in front of Aziraphale, then stomps a step back. The plate bounces off the wood, depositing crumbs onto the tablecloth. Aziraphale looks at it, blinking in surprise.

“Well, that’s … uh …” Aziraphale examines his demon’s sour face, but with no answers to be found there, he turns his attention to the cookies, observing them without touching them. They seem to be plain, old, regular, chocolate chip cookies: a little thin, a might bit dark and crisp around the edges, but otherwise serviceable as cookies go. He can’t imagine what Crowley could be apologizing for. “And why exactly are you sorry?”

“I’m sorry because I’m a failure.”

Aziraphale jerks upright, sits straighter, boundlessly confused by this whole ordeal. “Are you a failure because you’ve done something, dear, and then made cookies to apologize?”

“I’m a failure because I can’t do anything!” Crowley spits. “Even something simple, something humans do every day, like baking a frickin’ batch of chocolate chip cookies! Those are failure cookies, Aziraphale!” Crowley wraps his arms around his chest, hugging himself to the point of contortion. Failure cookies? That should be a clue. Aziraphale knows. However, he’s still having a difficult time understanding.

“Could I … would it be all right if I try one?” he asks. “See for myself. I’m sure they’re quite good.” Aziraphale leans low, takes a sniff, and op!

Okay.

There might be a problem.

From the outset, they smell like delicious, albeit slightly overdone, cookies. But after the aroma travels through his sinuses to the back of his throat, he can definitely sense something there. Not something bad. Just something not … right.

Sharp.

Pungent.

Off-putting.

Evil.

Not demonic evil, per se. Crowley didn’t curse the cookies. He just … may have gone a little off recipe.

“It’s your funeral.” Crowley rolls his eyes towards the window, and Aziraphale suspects guiltily that something about his expression, something he didn’t do on purpose, gave his assessment away. He immediately smiles, a bit too brightly, and Crowley adds a tut to his side-eye glare. The angel reaches for a cookie. He picks one up carefully and breaks it in half. It comes apart in two pieces with a satisfying snap. Aziraphale’s smile becomes more genuine. That’s a good sign. He looks at the fractured portion. Nice division of air bubbles, even ratio of chips to cookie.

All good things.

Excitedly, he puts the cookie half to his mouth and bites into it.

And that’s where the good things end.

The second the cookie hits his tongue, his mouth floods with saliva, his body attempting to wash away the tang of savory which overwhelms the sweet, so much so that if no one told him he was eating a cookie, he’d think he was biting into an exceptionally thin slice of burnt olive loaf, with chocolate chips in place of pimentos.

Aziraphale feels Crowley watching him so he schools his face and shuts his eyes, trying to decide on the best course of action to avoid any more hurt feelings. He breathes in through his nose to eliminate the flavor, but it doesn’t help. In fact, the circulation of air seems to accentuate it.

So he decides on a different route of analyzing this cookie - by stretching his angelic powers and trying to divine why? Why the cookies? Why has Crowley suddenly, after centuries of eating at restaurants and never once entering a kitchen for anything other than a bottle of wine from the fridge, decided he needs to learn to cook?

But it hasn’t only been the cooking.

Crowley tried his hand at sewing the other day, too - to fix one of the buttons on Aziraphale’s coat when he noticed the threads holding it to the fabric had begun to fray. He accidentally ended up sewing the coat closed, but it was a valiant first effort if Aziraphale says so himself.

And that’s another thing.

All of these little experiments at domesticity have been aimed at Aziraphale – fixing Aziraphale’s coat, trimming Aziraphale’s hair (a disaster deserving of its own sitcom), baking Aziraphale cookies. Crowley started off by tidying Aziraphale’s bookshop, which he’d been so expert at, Aziraphale couldn’t find half his belongings without magic for days.

But Crowley has his own flat to clean. And his car. Why is he so focused on Aziraphale? When had it started?

What were they doing when this began?

Well, the very first thing Crowley did for him was to clean his bookshop.

Cleaning is a nervous tick he has, something he does to calm down.

They’d been drinking before that. And talking. Reminiscing. Crowley had made a joke – a tongue-in-cheek comment about shame we didn’t invite the archangels to the wedding. To rub it in their faces sort of thing. And Aziraphale had said …

What did he say?

He doesn’t remember.

But he knows he’d made mention of Sandalphon punching him in the stomach because that’s when the atmosphere in the bookshop changed.

Crowley had gone sober.

His eyes went completely yellow.

And his claws came out.

“Wot? When did that happen? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It was hardly worth mentioning after all was said and done. Considering Adam turned back time, it probably didn’t even happen.” It was a pathetic excuse for a joke.

And it didn’t land well.

But his next comment … that’s the one that should have stayed in his mouth, never made it past his tongue.

“Besides, why do you care?”

Crowley’s face had turned so bright red, it made his hair look positively pink in comparison.

“I’m your husband! It’s my job to take care of you! Christ! Even the humans get to do that for one another!”

“Well, you were hardly my husband then, so you can put it behind you!” Aziraphale had said. He wasn’t angry at Crowley. He’d simply wanted to end the argument as his own anger and humiliation over the memory had started to get the better of him. To be honest, he adored the idea that his husband wanted to take care of him. To protect him.

And that’s what these cookies are all about.

And the haircut and the sewing.

Yes, Crowley had nearly shorn off all of Aziraphale’s hair, sewn his favorite coat closed, and made these cookies, chock full of ingredients that probably have no business being together, but they were done out of a need.

A need to nourish.

A need to comfort.

A need to protect.

A need to express love.

Needs that Crowley has that’ve begun to overwhelm him. That he’s having a difficult time adjusting to.

With a regretful breath in, Aziraphale starts to understand.

Crowley is trying to take care of him.

And he feels like he’s failing.

“Oh my dear,” Aziraphale mutters around his mouthful of cookie.

“Yes?” Crowley says, and it breaks Aziraphale’s heart how skeptical he sounds.

Aziraphale opens his eyes. “These are, without a doubt, the best cookies I’ve ever eaten in my entire 6000 plus years.”

Crowley’s eyes light up. “You mean … they taste good?”

“Oh no, my dear.” Aziraphale coughs when a rogue piece of cookie breaks off from the rest and makes its way down his throat. He turns his head, tastefully spits what’s left into his napkin. “They taste atrocious. No one in their right mind should ever eat these.”

Crowley frowns, his smile dropping so fast it’s both impressive and comical in its delivery. “Gee. Thanks.”

“But …” Aziraphale stands from his chair and wraps his arms around his demon’s waist “… that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t welcome these cookies on my table every day for the remainder of my existence. They came from you, and they’re full of your love for me. Ergo, they’re my favorite.”

“Then you’re welcome … I guess,” Crowley says, hiding a smile in the corners and crevices of his pouting.

“Just don’t offer them to the children when they come ‘round.” Aziraphale rises on tiptoe and gives Crowley a kiss on the cheek.

“Wouldn’t think of it,” Crowley says, grinning like the bastard he is, all but telling his husband that that’s exactly where he intends on the rest of the batch going. “Do you wanna know what my secret is?”

“What, my dear?”

“Allspice.”

Aziraphale’s face goes pale. He peeks over his shoulder at the sienna-brown cookies, his mouth watering again with what remains of their savory aftertaste. “All … spice?”

“Yeah. Allspice. I mean, why do you have to use any other spice when all the spices you’ll ever need are in one bottle? Seems ridiculous that no one else has figured it out yet, if you ask me.”

Aziraphale shakes his head. “Dear Lord …”

[joonsrack]

+Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Kim Namjoon

+Genre: One shot, college au, fluff, kind of established relationship but not.

+10-31, nonhyeon dong series: Part I | Part II | Part III

+Word count: 8.3k

+Summary: 

"Hyung...you- you two kissed?"      Seokjin freezes for a half a second, then rolls his eyes nonchalantly, going back to his task. "Yes, it was part of the plan, remember?"      He feels the room fall silent around him.      "What?" He asks and catches Namjoon’s expression that's getting redder by the seconds from where he's looking past Taehyung's shoulder to the phone in his dongsaeng's hands.      "What?" He tries again.      "We talked about a peck... This-..." He says gleefully, turning the phone towards Seokjin who squints to make senses of what's inside the small screen. "This is not. A peck"  

 +Warnings: SFW, Stalker (not between the same pairing), bad dad jokes & sarcasm.

A/N: Apology to VIXX fans, i didn’t know who they were back then and just picked a random celebrity name. Lee Jaehwan just happened to be there, i don’t hate him or anything. 

Kim  Namjoon  21h 43:    

whrr thr f ar u  

Kim  Seokjin  21h 43:    

I  forgot   to   feed   the  cat.  

Kim  Namjoon  21h 43:  

 ur   almoat   ahour   lte .    

ANd   we   dnt   hava   catr .  

Kim Seokjin 21h47:  

You’re the person with the highest IQ I know, yet it takes a PhD to make sense of your text, honestly.

Kim  Namjoon  21h 53:  

(...)  

(...)  

(...)  

You've  been  shining  by  your  absence for  almost   a   hour   now ,  your  club  members  have been  throwing  me weird looks for the  most  part of  it   because   they  do not know  my  business  here .  

Also ,  ywe  do not  own  a cat.  

Kim  Seokjin  21h 54:  

No  need  to  get   your   underpants  in  a  twist, Shakespeare. Just  make   it   readable .  

Kim  Namjoon  21h 54:    

Y  ou're   late .  Your  club  members  are w e  i  r d.  

Kim  Seokjin  21h 55:  

Tell me  something   i   don't  know.  

Kim  Namjoon  21h 59:  

It would take 10,000 helium balloons to make your ass fly over here.  

Hurry .  the  fuck.  up .  

Kim  Seokjin  22h 03:    

Roger  that .  

Hey  you   want  to  hear  a joke about  helium ?  

Kim  Namjoon  22h 04:  

Hyung.  

No.  

Kim  Seokjin  22h 04:  

Almost.  

The correct  answer   is  Na,  though .  

Kim  Namjoon  22h 04:  

hyuNG .  

******  

‘Best friends’ is what most people would use. Sometimes, there's the odd ball that calls them soulmates.

Honestly, Seokjin thinks neither apply.  

The rest of their misfit roommates calls them oemma and appa. They also talk about their wedding as if it already happened. As a joke, of course.  

Because they're not married.  

He thinks to himself, as Namjoon spends most of the night with his arm wrapped around his waist. For his defense, they're acting like a couple to discourage a creep from Seokjin's club that's been becoming increasingly annoying in the last few weeks; Seokjin is never having drunk sex with kind-of-friends again, however horny he might get. Nothing good ever comes out of it, and now he's gotten himself the worst kind of STD: a stalker.  

It only took a passing mention during their weekly TV Thursday night for their roommates to plan out a way to get Seokjin out of his awkward situation.  

(It got past awkward territory when he asked you for the fifth time if you were sure you didn't want to go on a date with him Friday night, Yoongi said.  

He might have been right.)  

The solution they came up with then is to pretend Seokjin’s eternal Uni celibacy is a thing of the past, Namjoon being the logical choice as a fake boyfriend since the whole University already think they are dating.  

Namjoon is also the logical choice since their noisy friends seem hellbent on having them married with five kids ever since Jungkook and Taehyung put their big boys pants on (or off) and confessed to each other. Now it's like it's their four friends goal to get Namjoon and Seokjin together next (Yoongi probably doesn't give a shit about anything else other than his music and Jimin's ass, so Seokjin isn't counting him in).  

So yeah, Seokjin wouldn't exactly use the term best friend or soulmates to describe his relationship with the younger man. More something in the line of puzzle pieces; they're different yet they fit.  

It's chance that brought them together (or more commonly named: being bad dancers). The only thing they had in common back then had been overbearing mothers; one who wanted her son to gain control over his limbs and stop breaking everything, and the other having high expectations for her son's handsome face. Being the worst of their hip hop dance class, they bonded over always being put in the back during choreography.

They don't take dance classes anymore, but 10 years down the line and Seokjin couldn't see his life without Kim Namjoon's face in it.  

Living together for university had been only natural, and along came the five other weirdos.  

They drew the line at sharing the same room to have a break of each other's face from time to time. But if it comes down to it, Namjoon is probably the only person, other than his parents, who knows almost everything about him.

(More than his parents, actually.)  

So, kissing him to make their act all the more believable doesn't feel as weird as he thinks it should.  

Awkward, maybe, but not weird. He spent the best of the last few years trying (and failing) to avoid looking at Namjoon's pout, so it's safe to say he's already familiarized with it; well before Namjoon chuckles awkwardly and goes in for a peck under the gleeful look of his club members. He's pretty sure bet had been going on about them.  

Of course, the only one who doesn't think so is Lee Jaehwan, stalker extraordinary.  

No, he seems extremely surprised by this turn of event, and has the audacity to look affronted. He doesn't budge though, just press his lips together and raises an eyebrow, as if to say: you're not fooling anyone.  

Of course it wouldn't be that easy, Seokjin thinks, irritated.  

"Come on boys, we're all adults here, we're over the peck-on-cheek stage" someone throws from the back. Once Seokjin finds out who, he's cancelled.  

It's too late though, and their club members are calling obnoxiously for an encore. The rest of the patrons at the bar are looking at them like the bunch of annoying kids they are, bringing a faint blush of embarrassment to his cheeks. Seokjin smiles nervously, his excuse all set and ready to go; but it gets lost in Namjoon's mouth.  

There's a hand on his neck keeping him in place, but it's not strong enough that he couldn't push it away, if he wanted. Namjoon is just that considerate.  

It takes him a moment to remember he can (and should) breath through his nose.

He has a split second of clarity to thanks god Taehyung and Jungkook couldn't make it to their club hangout tonight, before he wraps his arms around Namjoon's neck and sells his soul to the devil. He's already in love with the dude, what is it going to change to get a taste of him?  

Once he relaxes into the kiss, it becomes all the more natural. Puzzle pieces, Seokjin's mind provides again. His mind has always been too noisy though, so he shuts it off. Namjoon kisses him like it's a challenge, and Seokjin knows he already lost. He lost well before their lips ever connected; he doesn't feel like a loser, though, once he realizes that he’s not the only one breathing hard.

Seconds becomes minute and his club members chants become catcalls, and when he opens his eyes again, disoriented but holding on to Namjoon's frame, he can see from the corner of his eyes Lee Jaehwan storming out of the bar.  

"Mission accomplished" Namjoon whispers to him once Creepy McPants is out of sight.  

He lets out a relieved sigh and sags a little in Namjoon's embrace. His dongsaeng passes a reassuring hand down his back, knowing him too well. Anybody else and Seokjin would be putting on an indifferent front, but it's Kim Namjoon standing before him.  

"Since we're here, might as well drink something? I think I need to relax a little." He says and tries to meet Namjoon’s eyes but the younger man seems to be looking at everything but him.

"Sure" Namjoon shrugs, "I'll go get us something, just to escape from their crazed looks for a few."  

"You snatched the prettiest one around, of course they'll be noisy about it, it's the drama club." Seokjin says, playing up the arrogant attitude to try and get rid of the awkwardness surrounding them.

"You're so modest"  

"Tell me something I don't know"  

Namjoon looks pensive for a second, and Seokjin can only regret his comeback before his dongsaeng speaks again.  

"We just shared 80 million bacteria" He answers, their eyes finally meeting.  

Seokjin signs heavily, looking unimpressed with his friend. Of course, he's going to act as if they just didn't share some life changing kiss that's going to make it 300% harder for Seokjin to get over his infatuation.  

That thing he did with his tongue?  

He's ruined.  

"You're not the only that can be a smart ass, Hyung." Namjoon shrugs again, then goes toward the general direction of the bar, probably to get him his favorite drink.

Because there's no reason why Namjoon wouldn't know Seokjin's favorite drink, is there?  

******

"So how did your date go, hyung?" Jimin asks from where he's perched over the kitchen counter, licking a spatula full of what looks like thick white cream.  

Yoongi standing frozen over the remains of a broken cup makes a lot more sense now.  

Hoseok is whipping up cake batters for who knows what reason, and Jungkook and Taehyung are doing their weird foreplay rituals that includes playing violent video games and telling each other to eat shit.  

Youngsters these days have weird ways to set the mood.  

"Namjin 1; Jaehwan 0" He answers with no inflection. He just can't wait to be alone in his room to analyze every tiny detail of his new-found knowledge; Kim Namjoon aka Professional Mouth Licker.  

"He looked pretty pissed though, when he stormed out" Namjoon says with a worried crease forming between his brows "You should probably be careful for the next few weeks... Try to avoid being alone with him".  

"It's not like I have much control over that, we're in the same club, we're in the same play. He might have a pretty minor role put the mailman is a key character"  

"Don't worry Hyung," Taehyung says from where his head is now pillowed on Jungkook's thighs. They've stopped playing to listen in, apparently. "We'll keep an eye on him. With Jungkook's muscles and my..." He looks down at his own body, frowning. "I won't be much help but Jungkook's muscles will do, I guess."  

"But you do have muscles, hyungie" Jungkook says, trying to subtly shove a hand under Taehyung's T-shirt. 'Trying' being the key word here.

"Oh for fuck sake" Jimin says, fake gagging. "We should never have helped them get their shit together. I'll regret it eternally."  

"Yah, when have you ever helped them," Yoongi squints. "You only wanted first row to the drama."  

Jimin doesn't even bother looking affronted, sauntering off the counter with a smirk.  

"You gotta admit Hyung, the tea was pretty good."  

Taehyung and Jungkook get-together-story kind of became this year's running gag, generating hours of teasing and laughing from the rest of their hyungs. But they took their revenge by becoming gross. Grosser than when they were simply crushing on each other, as if that was possible.  

Which is why Seokjin knows it's Taehyung's phone that starts making a racket as he pours himself and Namjoon a glass of water, since his different notifications sounds are recordings of Jungkook's various weird laughs.

(Once, Taehyung "forgot" his phone in his room, and he spent the whole night waking up to the Maknae's evil laughter. Seokjin still believe the phone had been purposely hidden there. Revenge had been written all over Taehyung's face when he came to collect his phone the next morning.)

But now he's so used to it that he barely reacts, until a loud gasp from behind startles him.  

"Hyung...you- you two kissed?"  

Seokjin freezes, then rolls his eyes nonchalantly, going back to his task. "Yes, it was part of the plan, remember?"  

He feels the room fall silent around him.  

"What?" He asks and catches Namjoon’s expression that's getting redder by the seconds from where he's looking past Taehyung's shoulder to the phone in his dongsaeng's hands.  

"What?" He tries again.  

"We talked about a peck... This-..." He says gleefully, turning the phone towards Seokjin who squints to make senses of what's inside the small screen. "This is not. A peck"  

It's a little blurry, but you can clearly see Namjoon's tongue shoved down his throat.  

Seokjin takes a deep breath, brain going a mile a minute to come up with a good excuse.  

He can feel five hungry stares looking their way, and he's coming up blank; all he can focus on is the thought of his bed calling on to him.  

He does the most sensible thing; grabs Namjoon's hand before anyone can react and runs for it.  

"I'm sorry hyung, I wanted to help you out, but now we will never live this down." Namjoon whines from between his hands covering his red face, once they are safely hidden away in Seokjin and Yoongi's room.  

"Tell me something I don't know"  

Namjoon goes to open his mouth despite his embarrassment, but this time Seokjin is faster.  

"Don't.”

He can hear giggle from the other side of the door that he gratefully locked, thanking god for Min Yoongi and his appreciation of social interactions.  

"You can't hide forever hyungie~" Jimin muffled voice calls out sweetly.  

"Yes we can~" He answers, matching in sweetness.  

"No you can't, not in my room."  

"Shut up Yoongiyah, you go sleep in Namjoon's bed for the night."  he says, since being the oldest has advantages. "Or better yet, I'm sure Jimin has some space to spare for your skinny ass." he adds as an afterthought.  

There's a few choice words thrown his way, until he can hear Hoseok tell Yoongi to shut the fuck up and sacrifice his room to blossoming love.  

A disgruntled sigh is all he needs to hear to know they won't be disturbed for the reminder of the night.

*****  

The signs that escape his mouth is enough to shake mountains, but not Min Yoongi.  

No, Yoongi ignores his arrival, still a little bit mad for having been locked out of his room couple days ago. Jimin is there as well, lazing on his hyung's bed with a pair of earbuds cutting him off from the world. Seokjin's catches a few seconds of what seems to be some studio dance practice.  

He sighs again, this time his whole body melting into his bed.  

"What." Yoongi's snaps. Because no matter how hard he tries, he'll never be able to hide the fact that he cares.  

"Lee Jaehwan has yet to give up, it seems."  

It doesn't take half a second before Namjoon's head pops into the room.  

"I knew he'd be hard to shake off" he muses out loud, cocking a hip against the door frame  

"If you two keep acting like a couple he'll get over it some days" Yoongi says, not stopping the rotation of his chair. It's making Seokjin dizzy.  

"What acting?" Jimin adds from his spot, one of his earbud now dangling.  

Ignoring his comment, Namjoon's takes place on the space left on the bed and puts a reassuring hand on the small of his back.  

"My point" Jimin mutters again, but a pillow is thrown into his face.  

"What happened?", Namjoon asks, and Seokjin groans once again.  

"Nothing too dramatic... he asked me if I was serious about you and he got all mad when I said yes. Then he was just there, in the background. I could feel his wrath, literally. He made everyone tiptoe around him."  

"He acted like a dickwad" Jungkook adds from the door frame, balancing Taehyung on his back. "The biggest dickwad around"  

"Not to me" Taehyung says, and the room focus on him.  

"He acted overly sweet and asked If I knew of anyone planning to move out of the apartment. And how much the rent was."  

A grim silence fills the room, even Yoongi stops spinning.  

"For fuck sake" Seokjin whines.  

"Of course, I told him no one was leaving and he couldn't afford the rent. Then he acted like the biggest dickwad towards me as well."  

"Well this Lee Jaehwan problem will not go away as easily as we thought" Jimin says, all business like.  

Namjoon's chin is starting to protrude; he's getting serious.  

The front doors screeches, and Hoseok erupts from the hallway a few seconds later, drenched in sweat, finding the six of them crammed into the medium sized room with a mix of worried and irritated expressions on.  

"What'd I miss" he says, eyebrows joining his hairline, trying to squeeze past the two men combo blocking the door. "Why' we all crammed in here when the living room is perfectly sized to accommodate all of us?" He asks, but he joins Jimin on the bed anyways, to Yoongi's displeasure. They both ignores his protest as they get into a more comfortable position.  

"The disrespect- I swear to god if my bed smells like sweat... How can you touch him right now Jiminie?"  

"We're both dancers, we're used to it." Their matching indifferent look are enough to shut Yoongi up.  

"What should we do next." Namjoon's puts the conversation back on track.  

"Seokjin-hyung could act mean to him?" Jungkook proposes.  

"Have you seen him? He doesn't know how to be mean. He's an eomma down to his soul"  

"I can be mean," he defends himself against Jimin's jab, "I could tell him his... body proportions are bad?"  

A groan spreads through the room. Even Hoseok who doesn't even know what they're talking about. He must be getting the idea, though.  

"Tell him his acting sucks" Taehyung proposes. "Because it does. Then you're not being mean, you're telling the truth and saving him from a future of job rejections. It's a win-win.”  

"We're not trying to destroy his self-esteem, just trying to make him see that Seokjin-hyung is not the one for him."  

"Then tell him he doesn't fit your standards"  

"I tried, but he laughed it off."  He says, irritation permeating his words.  

"It's like nobody here knows our university has campus security" Jimin sighs.  

"Luckily for us or our precious Jungkookie would be in jail~"  Hoseok singsongs.  

The maknaes couple blush and escapes the room, Taehyung still perched on his boyfriend's back.  

"They will never live this down" Yoongi's grins, then hits a couple of keys on his keyboards and jumps to his feet. "Alright, I'm gone"  

"Hi gone, I'm Seokjin", he answers as an automatism, because he knows his classics. Dad jokes are life.  

Yoongi stops in his track as a resounding groan crosses the room again, stares at him with the blankest look of disappointment possible, then leaves without saying anything else.  

The sound of the door closing seems to startle Hoseok and Jimin into action as well.  

"Didn't you say the studio was free today? I need you to look at a new movement I want to fit in for the next showcase."  

"Sure, everything for my cute dongsaengie" Hoseok coos. Coos.  

In a flurry of movement only flexible people can afford, they both leave the room with a goodbye thrown behind.  

And they were two.  

"Either my bad joke scared them away, or none of my dongsaengs care that I might be kidnapped and put into a cage only to be fed dry ass chicken by a creep that's counting on Stockholm syndrome to make me fall for him."  

Namjoon scoffs but frowns again.  

"You want to give a shot to extra PDA? I could come and fetch you after your club meetings? We could try walking together in the morning?"  

“It’s not like we don’t already do that most of the time.” Seokjin sighs to the sudden quietness of the room. “But sure, ’cause I'm getting too old to put my back through the trauma of being restrained in a cage."  

He pats the empty spot next to him and Namjoon takes the cue and lays down.

They wake up hours later disoriented and limbs tangled to the flash of a camera.  

These damn youngsters, he swears silently.  

*****  

The next day, everybody seems to have a new lock screen.  

Everybody but Yoongi of course, but Seokjin doesn't take it personally; Min Holly has been his phone screen ever since he had to leave his puppy with his parents while he was off to University.  

And by the way he smirks at Seokjin first thing in the morning, he at least downloaded the picture into his phone.  

It's a cute picture he has to admit, with him and Namjoon so entangled it's hard to tell which limbs belongs to who. He wishes he could find a way to subtly ask someone to send it to him. But that would be weird, right?  

Right.  

His paper on the influence of dramatics art on the development of kids is staring blankly back at him. He's supposed to hand it back in a few days but he can't bring himself to stay focused for two seconds, he's got too many things on his mind; like Namjoon's tongue down his throat or the borderline stalker walking towards him.  

"Hey, Seokjinie!"  

Lee Jaehwan is waving, and Seokjin debates acting like he didn't see or hear him, but being in the school library kind of makes it hard to play that card. Also the fact that they shared a nice and awkward eye contact.  

"Jaehwan, hey" he answers, hoping his irritation isn't showing too much.  

"You're working on the paper for Park Seonseangnim's class?"  

"Yeah... Or I'm trying to. I'm having a hard time focusing here."  Seokjin says with a small bite, hoping for the man to take the cue. Which he doesn't.  

"Oh well, you want to take a coffee break? I'll buy.” he says, with a big smile full of teeth. Like a wolf in disguise. That wants to kidnap him.  

And then put him in a cage and feed him dry chicken.  

Seokjin closes the lid of his laptop just on the side of too hard. Here he was hoping to fit in a couple of lines, but that won't be possible now.  

"Actually, I have to go, I'm meeting up with Namjoonie in a few."  

"Right. Kim Namjoon. Your Boyfriend." He says with something close to disdain in his voice, the capital "B" clearly voluntary.  

Seokjin starts gathering his things as Jaehwan carries on.  

"You know it's funny because when I think about it just a few weeks ago you told you didn't want to date before finishing your degree."  

He's still smiling and it's so fake, Seokjin can see right through. He can see the irritation and self-righteousness, and it's starting to get on his nerves.  

"You're right, I remember thinking that. But I also remember being an adult who can take his own goddamn decision without anyone butting in, thank you very much."  

He roughly shoves his books in his bag, struggling when the zipper gets stuck. Jaehwan takes the opportunity to grab him by the wrist and halt his movement, and it takes Seokjin everything to contains his rage at having this guy trying to invade his life.  

"Wait, I didn't mean to make you mad. I'm just trying to figure out why you rejected me. You haven't even left me a chance. After that night you just acted as if nothing happened..."  

"Honestly, I've told you in so many different ways that you don't interest me, if you still don't get it by now, then you're just plain stupid. I like them smart, so all the more reasons for me not to date you.” he hisses.  

With that off his mind, he yanks his arm free and walks away. Some students stare as he storms out, but he's too irritated to feel bad for his loudness.  

There's strange sense of satisfaction that comes with not acting nice. Is this how it feels to be mean?  

******  

That night when he gets home he starts whipping up a meal. It happens when he's stressed. Frying rice somehow helps him get his mind off things.  

There's only three pair of shoes thrown hazardously by the door, but he always makes enough to have leftovers, so he cooks something for seven. By the time it's almost ready, Namjoon, Taehyung and Jimin come sniffing out of their room, drawn out by the smell of his kimchi fried rice.  

Namjoon takes one look at him and at the meal he's cooking.  

"Is something wrong, Hyung?"  

Seokjin answers with a noncommittal sound and the subject is dropped, for now. Jimin takes the hint though and pops a chilled soju bottle and a couple of beer out of the refrigerator.  

"Someak! Someak!" Taehyung exclaims, and gets the shot glass and beer glass from the cupboard.  

They eat in relative quietness, talking in low voice of the highlights of their days and enjoying a few drinks. By 8pm, Jimin's and Taehyung's cheeks are reddish, and they laugh much too easily. Namjoon is telling them a story in a slower and deeper drawl than usual, and Seokjin is smiling at nothing. Or maybe he's smiling at Namjoon stupid handsome face, and low voice, and adorable dimples. Whatever.  

Jimin and Taehyung offer themselves for the dishes, Namjoon having been banned from the task since the first few months of their cohabitation.  

"You wanna watch something on my computer?" He offers Seokjin instead.  

"What are my options?"  

Namjoon thinks for a second, booting up his laptop.

"Are you feeling more something like Train to Busan or 100 days with Mr. Arrogant?"  

"As much as I enjoy my fair share of teen classic, seeing zombies eating their way through humanity seems pretty ideal for my state of mind right now."  

"Train to Busan it is." He says, and search through his files until he lets out a triumphant sound, the movie studio animation playing a few seconds later.  

They settle more comfortably on Namjoon's bed, still a little buzzed from their drinks. The laptop is safely positioned on a nightstand, strategically moved to be the perfect TV stand.  

He makes it through the first half relatively alert, but the screams of terror are lulling him to sleep, and he burrow a little deeper under the blanket. Namjoon throws a casual arm over him, like it's the most natural thing for them to cuddle. It probably is.  

He doesn't know how he ends up the little spoon, but he's not going to complain; Namjoon's breath is ghosting over his neck, making goosebumps breaks out all over his skin.  

It should probably make the whole experience uncomfortable, but it doesn't, truth to be told. This happened countless times over the last ten years, and it will probably happens again. They both know each other’s body by now, and he does know why he ended up the little spoon. He always is, probably because he ends up complaining whenever it's the other way around.  

His lanky arms are just not made for Namjoon's head.  

There's a finger rubbing circles into his skin, probably more unconsciously than anything else. The shape they're drawing is getting less consistent as Namjoon's breath evens out. Soon enough, Seokjin's eyes are losing the battle against the drowsiness weighting over them. There's a weird noise somewhere in the house, but he pays it no mind as his breath evens out as well.  

With Jimin and Taehyung being the only one home, it's nothing new. But there's a weird feeling to it all. Nevertheless, he knows if it's anything major they'll come knocking.  

It ends up being kind of major, but there's no knocking, and it's not who he thought it would be.  

God, he wishes they had chosen his goddamn room to watch the movie, then he could have locked the door and wouldn't need to open his eyes to Lee Jaehwan's face.  

"What the fuck." Is all he manages to say.  

There's Jimin and Taehyung struggling to hold him back with pink latex gloves on, but they clearly kept on drinking so they don't seem to be the most efficient defence line.  

Namjoon makes a confused noise when Seokjin's warmth disappears, following him as he sits up on the bed.  

He looks confused by Jaehwan's presence, until he sees the door of their apartment gapping open down the hallway and his maknaes’s distraught states.  

And then, he doesn't look confused anymore.

The only time Seokjin saw Namjoon looking like that was years ago, when one of Seokjin's ex cheated on him, gave him a STD, then called him on the phone to break up with him. That had been a funny night. That evening, Namjoon silently went out and came back hours later hiding his hands in his pockets. Seokjin never asked.  

"What do you think you're doing here?"  

Calm and composed is, and always will be, the scariest kind of Kim Namjoon. He gets to his feet in an intimidating motion, ready to block off any attempt to get to his Hyung.  

"Seokjinah, I need to talk to you"  

"He's got nothing to say to you. Get out."  

"I'm not talking to you." He tries to side step Namjoon but he's having none of it. He grabs him by the arm, hard enough to earn him a whine, and pulls him out of the room into the hallway and out the door of their apartment. He’s got his two hands holding on roughly to Jaehwan’s shirt collar, probably planning on slamming him into a wall, but before they can create a bigger disturbance, Seokjin stops him with a gentle hand.

"Go back inside."  He tells Namjoon, his eyes on Lee Jaehwan  

"Hyung..." He tries to argue, not letting go.  

"I got this."  

It's probably the look of steel on Seokjin's face that convince Namjoon to let him handle the situation, and after throwing a last look between the two, he reluctantly lets go and withdraws inside.  

He's probably spying through the peephole, though.  

"Let's walk." Seokjin, throws over his shoulder, walking towards the exit without looking if Jaehwan is following. The last thing he wants is noise complaints from his neighbour. He doesn't even know what time it is, but the last time he checked, it was pushing 10, so it's probably getting late.  

They walk down the staircase and out of the building in total silence, the only thing confirming the other man following being the sound of his steps close behind.  

Once they step into the air outside, Seokjin takes the direction of the nearest subway station.  

Jaehwan hurries his steps to be level with him.  

"I know it's rude to barge in like that but I really needed to talk to you... and your roommates refused to go and get you."  

"Reasonable, as they knew I was busy.”  

"I didn't have a choice, you've haven't responded to any of my text. I couldn't find you after you left the library."  

"Probably because I didn't want to talk to you. But we're here, so let's talk." He stops and turns around." I don't know how to make you understand that I don't have any interest in you, any intention to date you-"  

Jaehwan tries to interrupt but Seokjin raises his hand and stops him.  

"I'm at the point where I don't even want to try and stay friend with you. You're making me hate you."  

"But the night we spent together-" he says, grabbing his wrist, again.  

"Meant nothing. We slept together. That's it. I was drunk, you were drunk. We had a one off and honestly, I don't even remember half of it. From what I do remember though, you weren't really memorable. We're just not a good match."  

"I was drunk, if we tried again-"  

Seokjin snaps his wrist away and takes a step back.  

"There is not going to be an 'again'. There was never going to be one since there's nothing between us."  

"Seokjin..."  

"You're making yourself look pathetic, and you're making my life hard. Just please, stop it. Don't talk to me outside of club duty."  

"Why, because your boyfriend won't like it?" Jaehwan, says, taking a step forward to stay close, invading his personal space. Again.  

"No, because I don't want to talk to you, that's all. Namjoon has nothing to do with this."  

"Oh, come on Seokjinie, I know you're not dating him for real. You’re just trying to make me jealous.” Jaehwan says with a smile, as if he's gotten the upper hand. Seokjin hesitates a second but decides it's not even worth to try and defend the lie they crafted to discourage Jaehwan’s advances. Clearly, it failed.  

“No, I told everyone we were dating so you would give up, but your head is so far up your ass that it didn't matter to you."  

"Yah Kim Seokjin," he says, and take a couple of steps again, until he's standing in Seokjin's face. "I've let a lot of insults slip by because I know you're just playing hard to get, but don't cross the line. You keep calling me stupid and stuff, and it's not cute anymore. Let's just stop this game, ok? We don't have to tell anyone if you're scared for your image, we can just date in secret."  

Seokjin is shocked frozen by the thickness of Jaehwan's skull. He's so deluded, and he's starting to regret not letting Namjoon handle him. No, he had to go and get them alone, at night, with no one around.

"I'm not playing hard to get. I don't like you. Leave me alone. How many times do I have to say-"  

Lee Jaehwan grabs both of his shoulders and goes in for a kiss, shocking Seokjin who braces himself for the impact. He struggles to push the man away, but he's never been the muscular type, giving Jaehwan an advantage that he takes to keep a tight hold on him.

He can feel fingers digging uncomfortably into the meat of his shoulder, making it hard to avoid Jaehwan's attempt to plant one on him.

Seokjin is considering a nice and well timed headbutt, desperate times and all that, but it proves itself unnecessary as two muscled arms pull the man off him and make quick work of throwing him to the ground in a mess of limbs.  

Never in his life Seokjin has been this happy to see Jeon Jungkook, modern day hero.  

He's standing tall in all of his post workout glory, a gym bag hanging from his shoulder and his tank top showing off his impressive biceps.  

Once Jaehwan sees who it is, he exclaims in anger, opening his mouth probably to shout about respects and social conventions.  

Before anything makes out of his throat though, Jungkook interrupts him.  

"Sunbae," He says, voice honey-sweet. He carefully places a foot on Jaehwan's hands, putting a light pressure. "I don't think you're showing a good example right now, with the bad touch and the lack of consent" Seokjin bites his tongue, knowing now is not the right time to bring up Jungkook's romantic history. "You should go home and reflect on that for the night." He says, and then add just a little bit more pressure on the hand squished between his shoe and the harsh cement of the side walk. "And If you ever touch Seokjin-Hyung again, I will break every single joint in both of your hands. Understood?"  

His smile doesn't match his words nor his action, succeeding in creeping even Seokjin out.  

He will never fight Jungkook for the last chapseolttoek ever again.  

Jaehwan jumps to his feet, looking like he wants to run for his life, but he still takes the time to pull his clothes back in place, patting himself down while huffing out in displeasure.

"That's no way to talk to your sunbae. You better learn some respect Jeon Jungkook." he tries and fails to look intimidating.  

Jungkook only cocks an unimpressed eyebrow, taking a step and prompting Jaehwan into backtracking. He walks away half running, throwing a worried look over his shoulder every few meters until he's a dot in the distance.  

They stand in place in silence, looking at where Jaehwan left, until Seokjin snaps out of his shocked state and seeks the closest bench to sits himself on, head falling into his hands with a humourless laugh.  

Jungkook takes the hints and sits by his side, putting a reassuring hand on his neck and gently massaging the tension there.  

They stay like that a few minutes until his phone starts ringing, the line It’s gon’ get you in trouble resonating into the night and pulling him out of his silence.  

Kim Namjoon is shining back at him with a picture of his friend holding up a small crab, excitement noticeable by his facial expression. It usually brings a smile to his face, but this time he signs before answering.  

"Hyung, is everything ok? You've been gone for a while" He says the second Seokjin hits answers.

"Yeah I'm good, he's gone,” he says trying to sound normal.” but I walked into Jungkook so I forgot to text you back..."  

"You sound weird, did anything happen?"  

He takes a look at Jungkook, and the maknae stares back, probably having heard Namjoon's question in the quietness of the night.  

"No, I'm just tired. But I think it's finally over, he got it. He seemed pretty... Deterred" he finishes, thinking about Jaehwan's scared face as he ran away.  

Namjoon hesitates on the phone, probably not believing him one bit. He can hear Taehyung and Jimin anxiously asking for news, but Namjoon ignores them, probably overanalysing the way he sounds from the few words they exchanged and dressing hypothesis on why he sounds like somebody told him his jokes suck.  

"Just... get home safely hyung" He ends up saying.  

"Don't worry about me, I've got Mr.Muscle here guarding my ass." he says throwing a smile Jungkook's way.  

After he hangs up and he and Jungkook are on their way, he takes a moment to put a hand on his Maknae's shoulder.  

"I would appreciate if you could keep what happened tonight to yourself. I don’t know how Namjoon might react, but I don’t want him getting into trouble with the school."  

Jungkook thinks for a second but seems to agree.  

"He's going to be really angry if he finds out we kept it from him, though."  

"I'll deal with him if it comes to it, alright?"  

Jungkook raise an eyebrow, but Seokjin knows he can trust him.  

"Aigoo~! our cute maknae is now a man capable of saving a damsel in distress" he says, changing the subject, pinching Jungkook's cheek.  

"You're aware that you're describing yourself as a damsel in distress in this context, right?" He says as he slaps the hand away from his face.  

"Whatever."  

*******  

Life without worrying about stalkers and fake relationship is... Regular. Back to normal.  

He goes to school, goes to theater club, goes home, sleep, rinse, repeat.  

Also, he tries not to think about how almost nothing changed about his relationship with Namjoon, going from normal to fake dating to back to normal. If he let his mind wander, he'd overanalyse how they acted as they usually did to make people believe they were dating. Huh.  

Exhibit A.

Namjoon gets home to find him finishing a 10 funniest Britain's got talent auditions video.

"Hyung, not again. We talked about this. You should be writing your paper. You know when you watch one of these you can't stop."  

"It's a rabbit hole, I swear to god. Plus, YouTube knows. It knows, and it just keeps showing me more and more recommendation of audition's video. They got me by the Balls, Namjoonie."  

Namjoon's sits down on the couch next to him, and Seokjin does the most natural thing, which is, reclining back until his dongsaeng passes his arms around him to hug him to his chest. Then, he presses on the button for the next video.  

Exhibit B.

Namjoon is in one of his mood where nothing can disturb him of the song he's working on, not even hunger. He's been sitting in front of his laptop for at least eight straight hours. Seokjin knows, he counted.  

Namjoon's got his headphone on and his clavier out, and all of his mixing equipment he saved for years to acquire are spread out across his desk. He's bobbing his head one moment, then growling in irritation the next.  

Seokjin puts the rice cooker to good use then, preparing some slim kimbap that he cuts into small bite size.  

Yoongi watch him cook from the kitchen table where he's working on a cup ramen, slurping obnoxiously. He raises an eyebrow, scoffing when he sees Seokjin disappear into the room Namjoon has yet to come out since that morning.  

He doesn't bother trying to win Namjoon's attention, just grabs the first piece and feeds it in his dongsaeng's mouth. Or more like shoves it. He's not against manually making Namjoon chew, but thankfully, even in his hyper focused state, Namjoon’s reflexes make quick work of the pieces Seokjin feeds him. Then, once the plate has been emptied, he swats at the rice stuck to Namjoon’s lower lips, just as Hoseok steps into the room.  

His roommate takes two steps back and gets out the way he came in.

Exhibit C.

Namjoon's overhear Jungkook telling what transpired that night to Taehyung and all hell break loose.  

Seokjin is not even mad at the maknae, who probably only wanted to brag to his boyfriend. But maybe he'll put a little extra gochugaru in his spicy cold noodle next time.  

It's Saturday night, and before he has to give his soul back to the university, he's playing a little DS to relax. He's got his favourite DS-and-chill outfit on, and nothing can ruin this night.  

Except.  

He hears the front door slamming, then somebody running, then his door burst open to his maknae whose face has gone comically pale.  

"Seokjin-Hyung, he- he Knows. Namjoon-Hyung knows."  

That's all it takes for Seokjin to jump to his feet and run at the door, trying to stop Namjoon from getting himself into prison. He's pretty sure it’s not as glamorous as prison playbook made it seem. And Namjoon is not even a star player.  

He attracts looks from passerby, maybe because the shoes he has on don't match. Taehyung's faux-fur moccasin do not go well with Jungkook plain puma trainer. It might also be because he didn't take the time to get out of his pink onesie. It even has a bunny tail.  

"Namjoon! Stop!" He shout-whispers once he's a few meters behind him. Namjoon ignores him, power walking towards the subway station.  

"Yah! You better stop right there Kim Namjoon!" He says a little bit louder. Suddenly, Namjoon takes a right turn into a smaller street. Dumbfounded, Seokjin turns the corner to follow after him, only to stops abruptly inches from the man's face.  

He looks livid, and Seokjin almost has the reflex to take a step back. But this is Kim Namjoon we're talking about.  

"Why didn't you tell me." He sounds cold and angry, but most of all, disappointed.  

Seokjin crosses his arms, giving the younger man the sassy eyebrows treatment. The bunny tail makes it all the more credible.  

"Namjoon, you're hellbent on whopping some asshole's ass when you're still in your slippers and haven't even heard the whole story"  

Namjoon looks down at his slipper clad feet. Monstrosities Seokjin bought him as a joke a few years ago, when he dropped Cheonggukjang broth all over his old ones, rendering them a brown and stinky mess. The panda shaped slippers had been a fixture since then.  

"If Jungkook hadn't been there he would have-"  

"While I am truly grateful for our precious maknae's intervention, I am not as powerless as you make me seem, and I had a very powerful and teeth shattering headbutt up my sleeve that I would have used otherwise. Now; Let's talk about how you were about to go get your ass kicked out of school for something that did not happen."  

"I-... Hyung."  

"You need to learn how to control your anger. It's an issue; whenever something set you off you just spring into action without thinking. It's going to get you in jail someday."  

"Hyung"  

"Don't 'hyung' me right now, I’m being serious. You have a brain, and I know for a fact that you know how to use it, so use it." He says, poking a crocked finger into Namjoon's chest. The younger man grabs his hand as a whole, stopping his probing. He doesn't let go, leaving them in a weird hand holding position.  

"I would gladly go to jail for you, Seokjinah" he says, avoiding his eyes once he speaks.  

"Yah, I'm the hyung here, I'm the one who should do the protecting." Seokjin answers to Namjoon weirdly intense declaration.  

"As if, you only use the hyung card when you want to win an argument, you're the tallest toddler I know."  

"Kim Namjoon, you wanna die?" He says, irritation plaguing his tone. But his dongsaeng carries on.  

"You're the biggest coward I know, even worse than Hoseok. So, I know for a fact that you aren't a natural born protector. I've known you for so long I also know that you would go to scary height to protect those you love. But you also tend to forget yourself and your own safety. And that's why I feel like it's my job to take care of anyone that fucks with you. So please, don't hide this kind of stuff from me."  

"That's sweet, but I raised you better than for you to solve problems with your fist. You've been hanging out with yoongi too much recently."  

Namjoon rolls his eyes but grabs Seokjin's other hand.  

So, yeah. They're just standing face to face, holding hands. The silence stretches on, until Seokjin runs out of details to map out on Namjoon's face.  

"Well." He says, more to put an end to the silent staring contest than to start an actual conversation. "This has been weirdly informative." His hands are getting moist the longer they stand around like a couple of love sick kids. Namjoon still doesn't say anything, just stare at him. "Moral of this story, don't go beat up anyone in my name, please". More silence.  

"Alright, so we're doing this weird staring into each other eyes while swinging our hands around, not awkward at all. Nope."  

"You know hyung,-" Namjoon starts, voice steady, but with a weird nervousness to it.  

Seokjin waits patiently.  

"You know, I never told you this before but-"  

Seokjin blinks, now curious about what is about to be said.  

"You're very pretty."  

Namjoon’s face flush a dark red after the comment leaves his mouth.

Seokjin thinks it's adorable. He also thinks hearing Namjoon compliment him is his new favourite thing in the world. But of course, his automatic answer is sarcasm.  

He scoffs, and he could probably find a better comeback if he wasn't so busy trying to hide his matching blush. "Tell me something I don't know." He answers dryly.  

There's a heavy silence hanging over them, and Seokjin wonders for a second what kind of weird knowledge Namjoon is about to drop on him this time.  

"I really fucking love you, Kim Seokjin." Namjoon answers, squeezing his hands harder.  

If he hadn't been shocked out of his mind, he probably would have been self-conscious about the river of sweat accumulating between their palms. But his brain has been frozen still, as the rest of his body.  

"I've been in love with for so long, I can't for the love of god remember since when. And if you don't feel the same, I think we're all mature enough to not destroy ten years of friendship over it."  

Seokjin opens his mouth but nothing comes out, and he just lets it hanging slack. It matches his eyes perfectly; just on the edge of popping out of his skull.  

"But I really needed to say it. Because every time I look at you shoving food in your mouth, or hear you say a new dad joke even worse than the last, or doing that weird shoulder dance that makes you look like a moron, I fall a little bit harder in love with you. And I needed to know if I had a chance, because if I don't put a brake to my feelings soon, I'm scared I won't be able to love anyone else as hard as I love you."  

It takes a moment for his brain to comeback online, and then Seokjin thinks about everything this could change, break and ruin. But it's only for a fleeting second, because he also thinks about the puzzle pieces. How him and Namjoon have fit from day one. How they've been each other's support system since the beginning.  

Also how they've basically been married without legal contract or physical perks for the better of the last few years of their relationship. Being Facebook Official with the man he loves doesn't sound so bad.  

"The kids are going to give us so much shit when we tell them we might finally make their marriage goal a reality." He answers, and Namjoon chuckles with a smile so wide his face might crack. They swing their hands still clasped together, looking at each other fondly.  

"Sooo, are you going to kiss me or do I have to do all the work?" His boyfriend-future husband asks.  

Seokjin snorts, grabs him by his stupid face and smash their mouth together.  

*******

"Does that mean we can call you eomma and appa without you getting mad?" Taehyung asks, picture of innocence.  

"That's hyung for you Taehyungah." Seokjin says. He's not about to be disrespected by his favorite dongsaeng.  

"Alright, eomma-hyung.".

"These youngsters" he swears quietly.  

[moodyvalentinestories]

2083 Days (Thomas Hunt x OC)

Prompt 7 of @choicesseptemberchallenge​: Wedding. I got a little creative with this one, I suppose.

Summary: Hunt receives an invitation to a wedding he’d rather not attend.

Notes: Remember Anna? This is her now. Feel old yet? (I know, it’s just two days later IRL. Shhhhh.)

Also… what the actual fuck was I thinking when I wrote this? I don’t even have the excuse of ‘I wrote this at 5 AM and I’m tired’ this time.

———————————————————————————————————–

Two thousand and eighty-three days. It had been two thousand and eighty-three days since he’d last seen her. And still, Thomas remembered that night like it had been just yesterday. He still remembered her. Anna.

Granted, that wasn’t all too surprising. Even if he’d wanted to forget about her – which he, after only months of pretending he did, admitted that he didn’t – he couldn’t have. Not with her face plastered all over town. On the billboards, he drove by on his way to work, movie posters when he went to the theatre, and the covers of magazines – both fashion and gossip – whenever he passed a newsstand. There was no escaping her.

The peculiar thing, though, was that he could always tell exactly which parts of her face had been edited and which parts were truly hers. Because, even if he hadn’t seen her face anywhere all these years, he would have remembered. Its details were etched into his brain and they wouldn’t ever go away.

Now here he was, looking at the lilac envelope that had his address written on the back in her perfect handwriting. He knew very well what was inside. Though he wasn’t usually interested in Hollywood gossip, he’d always listened intently when her name came up. He wished he hadn’t.

He didn’t have the right to be angry. He didn’t have the right to be jealous. After all, he’d been the one who left. But he couldn’t help it. Knowing it was that airhead of an actor, Chadley Fortnum, made it all the worse.

It should have been him, getting down on one knee before her. It should have been him, picking out that violet-scented paper for the invitations. It should have been him, who would wait at the end of the aisle. It should have been him.

He was angry. And maybe he did have a right to be. After all, how dare she – how dare she! – send him an invitation! She’d known how he felt about her. She’d always made sure he knew that she knew.

This invitation wasn’t a gesture of goodwill. It was her trying to get back at him for what he’d done to her. He was sure of it.

When he’d fished the invitation out of his mailbox earlier, he was going to throw it right in the trash. He didn’t want to go. But not showing his face would mean she won. And he wasn’t going to let her win.

So, a little over three months later – six years, to the day, after that godforsaken dinner party – he drove up to Big Bear Lake. Anna’s wedding.

He’d known it was a bad idea the second he’d decided to go. He wouldn’t like what he’d see. Nonetheless, he had to be there. Not just because he wasn’t going to back down, though that certainly played a part in it, but because he had to see her. If not for his own selfish reasons, then at least to make sure that she was happy.

As he pulled up to the parking lot, he was surprised by the number of cars he saw. He shouldn’t have been, of course. Both Anna and Chadley were big names in the industry. They were sure to have a lot of contacts that would have been quite unhappy if they hadn’t received an invitation.

For a moment, he wondered if he’d taken up the spot of someone who would have actually wanted to be there. The thought almost made him smile.

He sat in his car for a few minutes more before he finally decided to go find the other guests – and his seat. He wondered whether she’d have him sit in the front, just to torment him, or in the back, to insult him. He wasn’t sure which he’d find worse.

Maybe she’d assigned him a seat in the middle. Among the people she neither particularly liked nor cared about. That, he decided, would be the worst option. Which was exactly the reason why she would have chosen it.

As he walked towards the area where the ceremony would be held, he passed a cabin with the door slightly ajar and stopped in his tracks. Through the crack, he could see her. She looked… she looked absolutely breathtaking. Of course she would. This was her wedding day, after all.

Once again, Thomas wished himself to be her groom. But, of course, that was selfish of him. She already had a groom that she would marry within the next two hours.

But before he could keep walking, her eyes met his through the crack of the door. She said something to the woman helping her with the veil, who then quickly disappeared.

Leave, he thought. Now. Before it’s too late.

But it was already too late. Anna had got up from her chair and walked to the door, her face twisted in anger.

“You,” she boomed as she opened the door. “How dare you show up here!”

If she hadn’t been so intimidating, he would have felt triumphant. “If I’m not mistaken, you invited me.”

She took a look around, then motioned for him to come inside. He hesitated for a moment but then decided to comply. As it had always been, he wanted – needed – to know what she would say. He had no doubt it would be something he wouldn’t want to hear. But he always had a comeback. He always knew exactly how to answer.

Just not now. Because nothing could have prepared him for what she said once she’d closed the door behind them.

“You weren’t on my guest list.” She shook her head. “You were on Chadley’s.”

No. No, that was… entirely impossible. Thomas didn’t even know the man!

“Chadley?” he asked in disgust.

She sighed. “His manager found out we knew each other and thought having you attend would be good for us. I never thought you’d come.”

“And you expect me to believe that?”

“Thomas,” she said softly. He couldn’t help that his heart started beating faster as he heard her say his name. “Look around you. Does this seem like the wedding I would want?”

For just a split second, he was confused. If she hadn’t wanted this, then why was she even here? She was never one to keep her opinions to herself. Then he realised.

The many guests. The lavish decorations he’d seen, even from afar. The amount of press coverage they had gotten. He should have figured it out much earlier.

“It’s all for show,” he said, his mouth falling open. “It’s a publicity stunt.”

She looked at the ground. “I know you’re going to tell me how I’m failing you. How I’m turning into the exact person you warned me not to be. But, I’m begging you, just keep your thoughts to yourself.”

“No,” he said firmly. “I’m not going to keep my thoughts to myself.”

How could she do this? After everything he’d taught her about staying true to herself? About keeping her morals in a world full of succubi?

“Thomas, please,” she whispered, still avoiding his gaze. “I have my reasons.”

What reasons could she possibly have to justify this? “Oh, you do? Enlighten me. Is it to further your career? To promote that idiotic film you’re working on together?”

“You can go fuck yourself,” she said, finally looking at him. “You have no right to judge me. You’re no longer my professor. Haven’t been for a long time.”

There was more hurt in that statement than she would ever care to admit, Thomas knew that. She’d only graduated two years ago. Had he not resigned… had he not left… he would have had so much more time with her.

“So you’re just going to ignore everything I taught you, then?” he asked. “You think you know better? You’re still young, Anna. And naïve.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Fine. Do you want to know why I’m okay with this now? Marrying someone I don’t even love for publicity?”

“Yes,” he exclaimed. “Yes, I do want to know. That is why I asked.”

Always so infuriating. Always, even after such a long time, able to get a rise out of him.

“It’s because it doesn’t matter anymore,” she said, very quietly.

Thomas didn’t understand. “Why?”

“For someone who claims to be oh-so-smart, you’re an absolute idiot,” she huffed. “It’s because of you.”

Because of him? That made no sense. This… this was the last thing he wanted for her. “I don’t follow.”

“I’ve realised that I’m never getting over you. So if I don’t have a shot at happiness, why not at least do something that’ll help me in the long run.”

Something in his brain must’ve malfunctioned. Because after processing that confession, he did the unthinkable. He took her face in his hands and pressed her lips to his. And for a moment, just a moment, everything was right in the world. She kissed him back just as fervently and he knew, with absolute certainty, that she had been right. There was no getting over each other. Not for them.

Then, after much too short an amount of time, she pushed him away. And he realised that he had just kissed a bride that wasn’t his on her wedding day. Granted, it was a bride that didn’t love her groom, but that didn’t make it much better. As right as it may have felt, it was wrong.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“No,” she said, her voice low, almost animalistic. “You don’t get to be sorry. Not about this.”

Before he could even reply, she’d pushed him further, until his back hit the wall. 

“You don’t get to show up to my wedding, make me tell you how I feel and then regret it. You’re either all in or you’re out,” she said. “This is your last chance, Hunt. Choose wisely.”

It wasn’t a choice. It never had been. Not with her. Not with Anna.

“I’m all in,” he said hoarsely.

And in an instant, her lips were back on his.

Despite his usually more careful and rational self, Thomas found that he didn’t give a care in the world what would happen to the guests outside or even the groom. And he had a sneaking suspicion that Anna didn’t either.

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@lilyofchoices @trappedinfandoms @flyawayboo @alleksa16 @silversparrow02

[artificialqueens]

Bring It On: In It to Win It pt 4 (Branjie) - Ashley

A/N: Brooke struggles to lie to Jovan about cheering and please Vanessa at the same time whilst her anxiety flares up about their upcoming pep rally. Thanks for the reassuring comments everyone, they mean so much! I find it ironic that I haven’t wrote fanfic properly for ⅔ years and have decided to take it up again when I have a month left to revise for my a levels..oops..what can I say, Branjie has just got me back in that zone. Hope you like xoxo Ashley..

“Your brother’s not home is he?” Brooke’s eyes whipped around the room as she entered.

“I’ve never met someone who wanted to hide the fact they’re an Amazon,” Vanessa rolled her eyes at Brooke before adhering to her paranoia; “No. He’s not.”

“Where are the others?” Brooke asked. This was the first time she’d seen Vanessa since the week before. Since they kissed. Naturally, she assumed the whole squad were practising here, not just herself. With a pep rally scheduled in the following week, Brooke had spent most of her free time learning their routines and avoiding both of the siblings in order to be perfect for her first appearance with the Amazons. With fears she’d threw herself in too far at the deep end, parts of her old performance anxiety had begun to recur, just cracking the surface of her exterior - she had always strived to be the best at everything and the thought of disappointing the squad, Vanessa, and even herself were starting to eat away at her. Every possible image of failure had been running through her head - what if Jovan didn’t want to speak to her over this and she turned out to be terrible anyway. In summary, Brooke was scared. Scared of being a failure. Scared of losing her friendship. Scared that she couldn’t handle being close to Vanessa. After the events of Tuesday night, she had forced herself away from the girl, knowing full well that in the right place and time she may not be able to stop herself from kissing her again. Full well that her feelings, temptations, desires were all unrequited. Yet here she was, back with her, just the two of them. That longing that had crept its way to the front of Brooke’s mind speeding up til it was sprinting there in a marathon.

“I thought I ought to pull you aside and give you a low down. I know I was over hasty with you in your first practice. I just wanted you to get a real taste for it, you know?”

“Yeah,” Brooke nodded, wanting to add something intellectual into the conversation yet struggling to even to form words longer than one syllable in Vanessa’s presence. At this point, she figured she’d never get over the nervous jitters she got around the girl and might as well start to embrace them instead of fighting them as they didn’t seem to be going anywhere.

Pulling out a binder from inside the footstool, it was as if a switch had been flicked in Vanessa, she was focused.

“Welcome to Cheer 101.”

***

Although Brooke had scoured the internet for clips of the Amazons competing before her tryout, it was only now that the full-scale operation behind the squad was being deployed to her.

“Here’s the Vixens. Three-fold reigning champions, they’re our biggest competition when it comes to nationals.” Vanessa showed Brooke a newspaper clipping recording the events of the previous year’s national championships, “We don’t have long left till we face them again. Now that I’m captain, maybe this time we’ll stand a chance.”

“There’s nothing I love more than a competition,” Brooke grinned at the girl next to her and they both started the laugh.

Alas, she was no longer in plain-Janesville and was suddenly the starring role of her own personal teen romance flick - the way things were going in Tampa, Brooke had started to see everything as a cliche waiting to happen to her. Which is why she knew it would be Jovan walking through the door the second she heard the turning of the handle. Pretty soon Alanis Morissette would be writing about her life, she figured as she failed to come up with any sort of excuse as to why she was there with his sister.

Opening up the door, Jovan did a double take when he saw Brooke sat in his living room - his eyes quickly scanning over his sister before actualising who was sat with her and giving her one of his synonymous expressions.

“Hey,” Brooke tried to act cool, “Vanessa was just keeping me company while I waited for you. I’m sorry I didn’t text.”

Although not usually someone who condemned lying, Brooke’s fear of rejection was spiralling out of control at this point, every imaginary scenario in her head blowing further and further out of proportion till she saw no other option, taking the easier route rather than facing the potential consequences in the short-term. She was stuck in a triangle, left to choose between her best friend and her crush, trying as hard as humanly possible to choose both.

“For a second there I thought you’d actually fell for her bullshit and became a cheerleader,” Jovan laughed in his usual brutally honest manner, barely acknowledging his sister’s presence nevermind not caring what she thought.

Letting out an awkward laugh, Brooke glanced at Vanessa apologetically before standing up and making her way over to her brother.

“Hilarious,” Vanessa muttered, “I’ll leave you two in peace.” Giving her brother a sarcastic smile, Brooke could feel the anger radiating out of the girl’s small body as she made her way to her ground-floor bedroom - stopping to give Brooke one last dirty look before shutting her door.

“You should be easier on her,” Brooke looked at her friend, feeling a stab of instant regret, Vanessa’s face toying with her.

“I am,” Jovan said, “As I said before, I’m the only one being real to that girl.”

Yet here Brooke was, being the utter antithesis of real to him. Talk about rain on her wedding day.

***

“I really didn’t think you liked Demi Lovato,” Brooke laughed at her friend as they danced playfully in his bedroom.

“I’m an edgy gay kid in high school, of course, I have a secret love for ex-Disney Channel pop shite,” he laughed, voguing his way across the room towards Brooke.  “If you tell anyone though, you’re toast.”

Although they were just messing around, she felt the most relaxed she’d been the past week. All of her fears and anxieties, her battles with perfection and delaying of the inevitable all floating away as she swayed her hips to the music. Something about the comfort of dancing bringing her back to reality, the familiar friend guiding her through the stress.

“You’re literally my only friend,” she responded - Vanessa’s words from the week before running through her mind. “Friends like me. “They were friends. But Vanessa knew the score about the way her brother felt, and despite the flaw in his opinions, Brooke didn’t want to lose the person who was there for her when Vanessa blew her to an all-time low at the tryouts. Although they hadn’t known each other for that long, Jovan was different from her friends at home and although he said it a lot she couldn’t deny that the main reason was for how real he was. He was the refreshment Brooke needed to keep hydrated, and she figured what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him - at least for now. Or maybe that’s just what she told herself to stop the guilt of lying eating away at herself, the way people who over-justified their wrongdoings were really trying to deter themselves from realisations rather than others.

“Jovan,” a distinctly thick Puerto Rican accent singsonged as his door opened.

“Your dinner is ready. No wonder you can’t hear with all this music!”

Her eyes dark and wide and her hair slicked back to her head, Brooke soon realised that this was Vanessa’s mom.

“Sorry,” he responded, quickly turning off the music they had been dancing to.

“Ahh, this must be Brooke. I’ve heard so much about you I was starting to think you were made up!” She threw a motherly smile of genuine excitement in Brooke’s direction. “Stay for dinner, I always make way more than needed anyway.”

And that was what lead Brooke to the most awkward dinner of her life.

***

Without sounding cocky, Brooke had never been phased by spending time with people’s parents back home. Her constant need to impress and desire to be perfect both aligned well with her forward planning and ability to answer questions with confidence - turning her into a parent’s wet dream. It was about time this was going to come back to haunt her as she sat at the table with Vanessa, Jovan and their respective parents.

With Vanessa’s mom being the clear talker in the relationship, Jovan’s dad appeared more quiet and demure, simply nodding or throwing the odd smile into the conversation as they made general small talk.

Clearly aware of her extroverted daughters’ reserved manner, her mom, who Brooke now knew as Alexis, set a trap at her for a conversation with Brooke as the bait.

“Vanessa, do you know Brooke too, from school?”

There went the hook.

“We don’t really run in the same circles,” she responded pointedly, a clear ounce of wrath in her tone as she looked at Brooke across the table. There it was again, that gut-wrenching look that left Brooke at a loss for words.

“Vanjie is too good for the riff-raff like us, Alexis.” Jovan threw a line, using his sister’s nickname to mock her popular status in front of their parents.

“Jo,” his father piped up, glaring sternly at his son.

“I can’t do this,” Vanessa snapped before getting up and walking away from the table - Brooke once again hearing the slam of the front door. She dropped down like a sinker.

“I am so sorry, Brooke,” Alexis looked embarrassed of her daughter’s abrupt exit, “I don’t know what’s gotten into her these past few weeks - she’s been so feisty!”

“She’s isn’t always like that?” Jovan rolled his eyes.

Guilt pumped through Brooke with each breath. In, then out. Only amplifying and getting heavier each time. A positive feedback loop of the lies she’d told and the truths she’d hidden growing as she was sitting in front of Vanessa and Jovan’s parents whilst they apologised for Vanessa’s behaviour. Too caught up in her idyllic world of being friends with Jovan and a member of the Amazons at the same time, a harsh reality came crashing down on Brooke. She had started to become everything Jovan had made Vanessa out to be - she was fake. For the first time since meeting Vanessa - she longed for Toronto where she went with the flow, didn’t lie, didn’t lust, didn’t envy, didn’t indulge in her own fantasy and forget about the feelings of her friends. Just as things were starting to go well she fucked them up. Just like she knew she always would. The bitter pill she’d played with and hidden under her tongue all week had just been swallowed. And it was anything but sweet. Brooke knew it was time to swallow her pride along with it.

“Jovan, can we talk for a minute?” Brooke asked as they helped Alexis clear the plates for dinner.

“Oh my god, you’re breaking up with me. I knew it. Who is he?” he pulled a pretend shocked face at his friend, before taking in her sombre disposition: “What’s up?”

“I kind of lied to you,” she said, “And I know it’s shitty because you’re such an honest person and I really admire you for it. I know we haven’t known each other for that long but you really are my best friend. You’re the only person who welcomed me here and I just didn’t want you to think badly of me but I took your sister’s offer to join her squad. Since moving here, I can’t describe it but it’s like having the rush of nerves I get before a performance all the time. I haven’t had a physical outlet to drain away my anxieties and it’s been driving me nuts inside. I know I can seem confident but I overthink things so much and the thought of being anything less than perfect grates at me constantly - I need something to distract me from it. It was like my best friend and worst enemy combined when I did ballet; if I could reign it in, channel it and thrive off it through practice and competing then I was amazing, but sometimes it would just teeter over that edge and break me. And as much as I would like to say that’s all, this is me being honest - I like spending time with your sister. I know you think she’s using me but I think she’s a genuine friend, Jovan.”

Looking up at her friend for the first time in her monologue, Brooke waited for the fireworks. The storm she’d seen in her first week. The result of betrayal.

But it didn’t come.

She should be relieved, right?

She wasn’t.

In the end, the bang of the firework is never actually as bad as the lead up to it - the anxiety in the simmering flicker. And when they don’t go off at all? Then you’re left with the sour taste of dissatisfaction. The moment you waited for, all the tension that had built, all gone. Sometimes that calamitous roar was better than the uneasy tiptoe that came with no explosion.

Just silence.

Not the silence from the library when everyone was focused and thinking.

Not the silence after the first hum of the music, when the audience realised the show was about the begin and fell low awaiting the arrival of the ballerinas.

A loud silence.

A deafening silence.

***

A wave of relief washed over Brooke when she realised Vanessa was just where she hoped she would be.

“Hey,” she sat down on the park bench, the memories of their night spent talking all coming back to her in flashes of gold. “I know you’re pissed at me for lying, but I told Jovan that I’m on the team.”

“I’m not pissed at you,” Vanessa responded abruptly, making a point of staring ahead instead of making eye-contact with Brooke.

“You seem pissed,” Brooke reached out to touch the girl’s arm for Vanessa to flinch away.

Although she knew she deserved the cold shoulder - it still stung all the same.

“I’m upset. I’m sick of everyone acting like cheerleader’s are just a waste of space, Brooke. And you pretty much affirmed that you think that way too. Too embarrassed to let anyone know you’re on the squad. You’re supposed to rep with pride for god sake,”

Taking in the girl’s words, Brooke was surprised at her feeling this way. She had wanted nothing more than to be up there performing with Vanessa and the Amazons the second she’d laid eyes on them.

“Vanessa, everyone at school worships the ground you walk on - including me, no one thinks you guys are a waste of space,”

“I don’t mean at school,” she snapped at Brooke, her repressed emotions seeping through every pore.

“You can talk about it,” Brooke said, and not in the superficial way you do when you want to know the gossip or simply want to seem like a good friend, she was the most genuine she’d ever been in her life. She figured Vanessa knew this too, as low and behold she began to open up to Brooke, releasing the dam to let all the water gush past.

“We used to be friends, me and Jovan. We were just becoming teenagers and our parents got married so quickly, it was hard. But we quickly realised that we were both going through the same shit and could lean on each other. Yeah, he was a bit weird, but I didn’t care - we were like this,” Vanessa crossed her fingers together and met Brooke’s gaze. “Sometimes we fought but we loved each other, like Drake and Josh - but less white.” She laughed - one of those laughs where if you didn’t just embrace it you’d start to cry. “We used to do gymnastics in our garden, he was always better more flexible, I used to wish I could be like him. I wanted to be as carefree as he was, I still do. And then high school came. We tried out for the Amazons together, I didn’t really want to because I knew he was better than me and got scared he’d make it on and I wouldn’t. It broke him, Brooke. It really did, he did a full 180 and stopped loving life. It was a double-edged sword. I’d go to school and everyone loved me but I’d go home after a long day of practising, trying to keep my grades up and cheer at the same time with no acknowledgement from my family because they only saw cheer as the bitchy girls who didn’t let Jovan on the squad, and then started to see me in the same light. I tried so hard to impress them, invited them to every pep rally, every tournament, but it was just a silly game to them. And I guess I just stopped trying. If everyone at home was gonna act like I’m this bitchy airhead cheerleader then I might as well embrace it because I finally had a thing that was mine and I didn’t want anyone to take it away from me. He was right,” she paused to look at Brooke, a mascara-stained tear rolling down her cheek, her voice hoarse from talking, “I am intimidated by you. You’re an amazing dancer, you’re beautiful, you could be doing my job in a heartbeat.”

Brooke’s pulse pounded through her chest. Her tell-tale was heart bursting at the seams - wanting nothing more than to lean over to the girl and kiss her, just kiss her and tell everything’s going to be alright.

“I’m not surprised you don’t want to be seen with me,” Vanessa murmured, remembering why she was sat there with Brooke, reigning back from the issues with her family that shaped the way she acted, that explained away her response to the way Brooke acted when Jovan arrived home and at the dinner table. Right there in front of those who dismissed her hard work on the Amazons, Brooke had scoffed away the idea of being a cheerleader like Vanessa. She wished she was good with words the way she used to be in Toronto so she could tell Vanessa how astounding she really was, but something about the girl made English seem like a second language to Brooke.

“Vanessa,” Brooke looked at the girl next to her, shaking her head at the words she spoke, “In the words of someone I think we both admire, I’m not gonna bullshit with you. I’m sorry I made you feel like cheer was below me - I assure you it isn’t. There is nothing I want more at the minute than to be up there with you when we beat those Vixens at Nationals and make everyone so proud of you.”

Brooke watched as something in Vanessa’s eyes lit up.  

“Bring it on,” she looked at Brooke, a sort of unspoken commitment formulating between them - they would do whatever it took to win.

Brooke didn’t know whether it was because Vanessa had shown a vulnerability to her, another one of those layers that just made her seem so genuine or because of how close they were sitting, the way she had thought about her since the kiss, but whatever it was it drove her to grab the other girls hand and squeeze.

Immediate panic and regret ensured. Expecting to get a weird look from the girl, Brooke was about to pull away when she felt it, a squeeze back. Her nerves evaporated. A harmonious silence lingered rather than one of awkwardness or dead air - for the first time all week Brooke felt at peace, tranquil, with not a fear in her mind. Like when they kissed, her head was fully invested right there in the moment and that desire to hold back the sun returned. Just her hand grasped around Vanessa’s forever.

***

With Jovan still mad and not speaking to her, it was safe to say that Brooke had had ample time to throw herself into practising for her first pep rally - and throw herself she did. Every lunchtime she would have spent on their own little table in the cafeteria bitching about other students and sharing portions of gravy doused chips she now spent practising Friday’s routine - running over and over her yell until her voice would ache. Every night she arrived home and tumbled in the garden till she was dizzy and the sky was dark. Each free minute was spent researching about her new craft, watching videos with every tip and trick she planned to utilise. She crammed and crammed until nothing else could fit.

“It had all lead to this moment,” she thought to herself as she analysed herself in the hallway mirror before the game, having left the squad and their pretalks in the changing rooms to try and escape her overwhelming need to breathe. Darning the Amazon’s uniform for the first time out of the house, Vanessa was right, it fit like a glove. Her hair ice blonde hair tied up and curled in the signature blue scrunchie, only then did she realise how much the blue of her eyes stood out with the colours. Her long legs visibly pale, fear about standing out too much from the group began to sink in. She looked at her reflection and saw a fraud. What if people clocked that she wasn’t as good, what if she embarrassed herself. Her levels of anxiety rising, she began to contemplate why she’d even tried something new, something so different, so much more assertive and in-your-face than ballet when she would only fail it in the end anyway. All she wanted was to be good but the fear of letting her team down and letting herself down that she had felt early was starting to return.

Before she knew it she had crouched down on the floor with her knees to her chest. The walls were spinning like something out of a book - if she had been herself she’d have been thinking about how once again she was a teen cliche of angst yet the only thought she could conjure was that she was fucking scared.

She was fucking scared and the walls were not helping. Nor was the distant hum of people waiting for the game outside, people waiting to watch the Amazons, waiting to watch her.

She closed her eyes to try and make it stop but it was no use. The tips of her toes going numb inside her trainers, her body just stayed frozen listing to the noises from outside - willing herself to focus on something else, anything else, when she heard a voice next to her.

“Ssshhhh, it’s okay,” a bony yet comforting hand ran along her back.

Jovan. She opened her eyes, remembering where she was.

“I can’t see you perform like this, can I?” he asked her in a joking manner, only however making more tears stream down her face.

She wanted to respond but she couldn’t. Not just yet.

“I realised last week that I was a bad friend,” he said to her, “I tried to stop you from doing something you enjoyed for my own selfish reasons. And it went against everything I stood for. When you talked to me about it in the kitchen Brooke, you seemed so excited, so genuinely happy to be cheering and I was stopping you. I thought I’d best leave you alone, you didn’t need me dragging you down. Where’s that Brooke now? The one who was gonna give her friendship up to be out there performing,” he asked her, Brooke surprised that he wasn’t ignoring her because he was mad all along - he was guilty, just like she’d been about his sister.

“Remember what you were telling me, Brooke. Reign it in, thrive off it. Don’t let it take over. Just be you. Cause when you’re yourself you don’t care what other people think - you’re good at being you, Brooke.”

Although it took her a few minutes to recover, as it never just happened straight away like in the movies, something inside her snapped into gear. Never a loud person, sometimes performing was Brooke’s voice. She knew Jovan was right - she was only ever herself on stage, and so long as she was being herself then she would kill it.

“C’mon,” he gave her a hand, “Let’s take some deep breaths and get you cleaned up. I did not come to a non-mandatory school event to see any of those other bitches perform. Just my best friend.”

“I’m sorry I lied to you,” Brooke looked at him as she gulped down some water, her voice returning.

“Don’t be. I’m sorry I even put you in that situation. I put myself in a bit of a rut over what I did but I’m here for you, first and foremost. Now go get ‘em, tiger,” he laughed, giving Brooke a playful smack on the ass.

Grinning to herself, the need to slay that she’d felt when she told Vanessa she wanted to be up there performing with her returned, Brooke was more ready than she’d ever been.

***

Her pulse thumping along with the beat, Brooke looked across at Vanessa as they stood facing the bleachers, ready to perform.

“Bring it, Brooke Lynn,” the girl mouthed to her - she did not need to be told twice.

Every move was precise, every yell was on point. Standing on her hands, the roar from the crowd pushed her to new limits. She had never felt so much energy. So alive. She was used to waiting till the end with ballet - that dreaded silence when the music stopped and you feared that no clapping would come - but with hollers all the way through, Brooke thrived off the chants, she knew this is what she was born to do. By the time she made it to her roll call, she shouted louder and clearer than she had in all of her practices - she was ecstatic. Really fucking ecstatic

“My name’s Brooke,” the girls shouted their “yeah” in response, Vanessa’s tone standing out from the group, her teeth gleaming as she grinned from ear to ear, clearly proud of her new prodigy. “Put down that book,” she pointed to the ground - a new type of confident. A new type of sexy. “Cause when I shake it, you can’t help but look.”

Any fear she had was now long dissipated - a sense of belonging filling her insides as she pushed Vanessa to the air and watched her fly. By the end of the routine, her face hurt from smiling but she just couldn’t stop.

Once all of their choreographed steps were completed, she looked out into the crowd to see Jovan front and centre, cheering for them: “Go Vanjie, Go Brooke!” The excited boy who danced to Demi Lovato in his room once again taking over the sullen kid who rolled his eyes so much they may as well be permanently lasered into a resting bitch face.

Running forward, the squad all bounced off of each other, throwing their arms in the air and screaming for the school team.

Before she could even comprehend what was happening, she felt Vanessa’s small body bury itself into hers, those chocolate button eyes gleaming up at her.

“You killed it, mama,” Vanessa beamed at Brooke - sending her body into all sorts of shocks as she wrapped her arms around the other girl in excitement.

“So did you,” Brooke responded, “And I’m not the only one who thinks so,” she pointed to Jovan in the audience - his mouth collecting flies at their performance.

After their talk the week before, Brooke felt a little part of Vanessa’s glass walls start to melt as she saw her reaction to Jovan’s presence and watched her run over to him. He was taken back at first when she threw her arms around his awkwardly lean body, but soon he started to laugh and nuzzle his hand against her hair. Watching made Brooke long for a sibling of her own, their bond clearly unbroken despite the years of arguments and silences. But most of all the sight just made her feel content. Happy.

She knew that out of every adjective known to man, happy was the least exciting. But she could think of no other way to describe her inner thoughts than as happy. A big, fat, flaming happy.

[captainjetrocketboy]

I’m Tryna Understand These Days ~ 6

Also on Ao3.

Chapter 6: I Think of It a Thousand Times

Saying Callum was nervous would be a tremendous understatement.

He’s downright terrified of how tonight was going to go.

Convincing Ben to have dinner with him was easier than he thought it would. Sure, he might have looked surprised at first, but he quickly brushed it off and asked if there would be drinks there, too. Seems he was just in it for the free food, and not anything else. 

It can’t be for anything else, though, could it? They were mates after all, and mates don’t treat each other to a nice dinner other than for the fact that only one person was paying. In this case, only one person was paying and cooking.

All signs pointed to this being a date between them. A sort-of date, rather, since Callum thinks he’s alone on that assumption. It was really a spur of the moment decision on his part, suddenly being overcome with the feeling that he should do something—anything!—for Ben.

Especially after their running encounter, in which Callum had stupidly distracted Ben enough for him to fall flat on his face. His heart almost stopped when he thought he heard something crack. And it did when he saw the blood smeared across the other man’s face. He felt absolutely awful, and his offer to take care of the injury was the least he could for Ben.

Thank the stars that the cut wasn’t deep at all. It didn’t take long for him to clean the blood off Ben’s charming face, and he had applied a bit of ointment to help it heal faster. 

And when they had locked eyes, the world seemed to stop turning. Just for a fleeting moment, Callum thought he saw that love again. That burning passion that Ben always showed him flickered through the fog, and Callum was desperate to hold onto that. If that stinking phone never went off, he wonders what they would’ve done about the tension that suddenly appeared between them.

He knows he probably overreacted, but how could he not? He saw the man that he loves get hurt, and it tore what was left of his heart into even smaller pieces. It pained Callum to know that he caused so much pain to Ben, and not just physically, either.

When they were skirting around town, shagging in the back alleyways or behind closed doors, it was made apparent to Callum how euphoric Ben could make him feel. But it was always temporary. Callum had someone—his fiancée, no less—to go home to, leaving Ben in the dust when their time was up. 

It wasn’t fair to anyone. He was lying to Whitney for the longest time about who he was, but he was also denying Ben something that they both wanted. 

Then in the end, everyone was left with nothing that they wanted. Whitney didn’t have Callum as her husband, Ben didn’t have his love for Callum reciprocated, and Callum didn’t have either of them.

If he didn’t regret pushing away his love for that man before, he definitely did now. 

What a fool he was to think he deserved a happy ending. He destroyed the lives of so many people, and he didn’t know how to make any of it right.

But maybe it was a blessing in disguise, Ben losing his memories. Specifically the ones that involved Callum. This could be his chance to start over with him. To do things properly this time. Show Ben that he wasn’t the only one who loved what they had. Ben deserves nothing but the best, and Callum would be condemned to hell before letting him down one more time. 

His thoughts kept stewing in his head as he walked into the parlour, grocery bags in hand. He had just gotten the ingredients for the best meal that he could cook for them. As he passed by Jay, he saw the fellow squint his eyes a bit.

“What’s all that for?”

Callum set the bags down on the nearest table to rest his arms. “Ah, it’s nothing, really. Just for dinner.”

Jay didn’t sound entirely convinced. “Dinner? With what you’ve got, you could probably feed an entirely family.”

Callum let out a sigh. “Yeah, it’s a bit overboard, innit? I just got so excited, I wasn’t exactly sure what to get.”

He saw Jay cross his arms as he took a step forward. “Y’know, I think I’m starting to put the pieces together here.”

He tried to keep his smile, but Callum gulped, unsure of what Jay was suggesting. “W-What’re ya talkin’ about?”

“First, I come into work hearing ya clamour up in your flat, cleaning the place like a madman. Then ya beg me for a day off, scurrying off to Ben for God knows what reason—”

“How’d you know I went to see Ben?” Callum interrupted, his turn to act confused.

Jay only pulled out his phone, his face unreadable. “Cos he’s just messaged me, inviting me to dinner with the two of ya. Says it’s your treat.”

Callum wasn’t surprised that Ben wanted Jay to join. It just showed how close the two of them were, and it made Callum feel happy for them. But what he wasn’t happy about was how Ben ignored his request of this dinner being between just him and Callum. As ridiculous as the thought was, it felt almost like Ben had sensed the date-vibes and promptly tried to avoid that.

“Well… as much as I’d like for ya to be there…” Callum was starting to lose his footing. He wasn’t sure how to explain it all to Jay.

His boss was in his face now, expression dark and voice low. “What are ya playin’ at?”

He didn’t have a response. His throat closed up, blocking any words he had from escaping his mouth. He could only shake his head in denial.

“I ain’t an idiot, Cal.” Jay scoffed, pointing a finger accusingly at Callum’s chest. “You think I don’t know when someone’s tryna shack up with my brother? He’s been with plenty of blokes who’ve done the exact same thing you’re about to do, and they couldn’t leave fast enough after they’ve gotten their fix.”

Callum kept shaking his head. “It ain’t like that, Jay! I swear!”

“Then what is it like then, eh? Ya dump Whitney right before her wedding, and now you’re so desperate for attention that you’re goin’ after Ben? How long until you break his heart, too?”

“I won’t break his heart. I…” Callum couldn’t bring himself to finish his sentence, the final two words failing to come out.

Jay sighed and stepped back, resting a hand on his hip. The other one rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “Look Callum… I like ya, alright? You’re a good bloke, and I don’t care about who ya fancy. But whatever you’re doin’ with Ben… I just want ya to be careful. He’s been through enough.”

Callum nodded slowly. “I know, Jay. I promise ya I’ll be careful with Ben. But… thank you. For understandin’. I’ll explain later, okay?”

Jay let one of his hands squeeze Callum’s shoulder. “You can tell me when you’re ready, Cal. We’re mates, and I’ll support ya with whatever you’re goin’ through.”

They shared a glance, Jay’s encouragement making him grin, if only a little.

“Thanks again, Jay. I’ve made a mess of a lot of things, but I want to do this right.” Whatever ‘this’ was between him and Ben, he wasn’t going to turn back now.

“Good on you, mate. Now get up there and get cookin’ before the food spoils.” Jay teased as he too gave a small smile.

Callum laughed along, and picked the bags of ingredients back up, making way for the stairs. He didn’t make it past the first step before he heard Jay shout.

“But hey! If ya do anythin’ to upset him, you’ll be the next stiff we take care of!”

“Never!” Callum yelled back. For once in his life, what he said was the absolute truth. 

He never wants to upset Ben ever again.

- - -

His nerves started to act up again when he heard a knock on the door.

Well, he was already a wreck before it even came close to the time Ben said he’d come over. He had made a tiny mistake with the recipe, and he thought his head might explode as he checked and rechecked over the steps to find where he went wrong. 

It the end, the food turned out fine. He just hopes Ben enjoys homemade lasagna. Who doesn’t, right? Leagues better than the frozen stuff at the Minute Mart, that’s for sure.

Then he spilled some of the sauce on the front of his white dress shirt, and a bit on his trousers. Callum made sure all the kitchen appliances were turned off before he scuffled to his dresser. He knows this is supposed to be a casual hang out, but he can’t help himself. He replaced his top with a light blue button-down, which he tucked into his new khaki slacks. He did without the blazer, even though he really wanted to put it on. 

If someone said he was dressing to impress, Callum wouldn’t deny the accusation. Yes, he was putting on something nice for Ben. Did it have to mean anything? No. Except, it did mean a lot to Callum. A whole lot.

So when another incessant knock rattled the door, Callum briskly found the nearest mirror to run a hand through his hair one more time. He had to make sure he was presentable, at the least.

Finally, he approached the door that was threatening to come off its hinges with Ben’s pounding. He took in a deep breath—and two or three more, just to be safe—before letting the other man inside.

They greeted each other, and Callum could swear that Ben was getting more beautiful as the days went by. Seems that he wasn’t the only one who tried to dress nice. Beneath his leather jacket, Ben wore that deep red polo shirt with the black and white collar that complimented his body very well. It’s one of his typical outfits, sure, but Callum loves every single one of them, so he sees no problem there.

He jokingly scolded Ben for arriving five minutes later than they agreed. He put on his best angry face, but it quickly made way for an amused one when Ben tried excusing himself. Something about being ‘fashionably late’. Callum just laughed at Ben’s explanation of it as he set up the table.

Dinner started off without a hitch, and Callum couldn’t be more glad. No food dropped to the floor, no drinks spilled, and their clothes were spotless.

They didn’t stop talking for a second. The conversation flowed like peaceful waves at the beach, them moving from topic to topic with ease. There was always something to talk about with Ben, and Callum relished in it. He didn’t have to put effort into the typical conversation starters, because he could say just about anything to Ben and they’d have a full-blown discussion about it. Didn’t matter if it was something that happened at work, or the latest gossip in town. Ben listened to Callum, and he listened intently to Ben. 

When the plates were cleared, Callum went to wash them off as Ben sat back in his chair, sipping on the wine they had taken out.

“That was delicious, Cal. You’re one hell of a cook.” Ben praised.

Callum smiled at the compliment. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of hearing a happy Ben, because it made him just as happy. “It’s nothin’, really. But thank you.”

“Nothing? I beg to differ, good sir. You could probably sign-up for one of them cooking competitions.” Ben announced from where he was resting his legs on an adjacent chair.

“I suppose I could.” Callum replied with a chuckle. “I’ll blow the judges away with my five-star lasagna.”

Callum never had enough confidence to brag about himself like that. He supposes Ben just helps bring that part out for them, and only them, to see.

When the dishes were clean and left to dry, they moved the conversation to the living room. Ben brought the wine bottle and glasses over, too, setting them down on the coffee table. Callum was nursing his drink as he was engaged in some story Ben had.

“He was terrible at it, too. The bloke probably couldn’t screw in a bolt right, so I bet you can imagine how he was in bed.”

Despite the topic hitting a still-sore spot, Callum didn’t find himself minding. It was probably the wine weakening his inhibitions. He just got so lost in Ben’s presence that he forgot to keep track of how much he’s had.

So he giggled along with Ben, feeling like a bit like a schoolboy chasing after their crush. “He don’t know what he’s missin’. Joke’s on him, really.”

“That’s what I’m sayin’!” Ben was leaning back in the cushions, looking comfortable as he drank from his glass, as well. The rosy tint in his cheeks suggested he was getting a bit drunk alongside Callum.

“Seriously, anybody would be lucky if they were with ya. He’s a downright fool for leaving ya like that.”

Ben still laughed, but it didn’t quite sound the same. It was more hollow than the ones that came before.

“Now that’s the joke of the day.” He said, eyes downturned to the red liquid in his hand.

Callum caught on, and he regretted bringing this up again. But Ben had to know that he was worthy of affection, no matter who it came from. “Hey, I ain’t joking. You’re special, Ben. I know you are.”

Ben slowly shook his head in disagreement. “I appreciate that, but it don’t feel like it lately. It’s always been about cheap sex. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy a bit of fun every now and then. But I… I kinda want somethin’ more, y’know?”

Callum didn’t take his eyes off Ben. “Yeah… I know.”

Ben lifted his head up, a curious expression lining his features. “Have you ever been in love, Cal?”

There wasn’t any malice or accusation in his tone. It was pure curiosity, and Callum couldn’t bring himself to lie to Ben. Not like this. 

“I… I have.”

“How’d ya figure it out?” Ben sat up slightly, placing his now empty glass back onto the table.

“That’s a tough question to answer,” Callum started, running through his head how he could possibly explain his love when the man was unknowingly right in front of him. “I think I knew when…”

Ben’s gaze was digging into Callum’s soul. He was staring at him, waiting for his response and wanting to know more. Those blue oceans were almost taunting him, he thought.

“...When I wasn’t afraid of who I was. The person I loved—still love—helped me find the real me. He saw me, and I saw him.”

The corner of Ben’s mouth turned upward. “Sounds like a nice bloke. This the same guy who helped ya come out?”

Callum nodded. “Yeah. That was him.”

“What happened, though? Are ya still together? Ya don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

A sigh escaped Callum as he leaned forward, his arms flush with Ben’s. “We… never got the chance to get together before he… left. I still regret what I put him through… so when ya find that one person you love, don’t let go, alright?”

“Right…” Ben quietly responded. He started to play with the ring on his finger. “I’m really sorry about him, Cal. Whatever happened, I’m sure he knew ya loved him, too.”

Callum’s eyes met Ben’s, and the feeling that washed over him was almost too intense. He loves this man so, so much. He just wishes he got the chance to say it to him personally. Ben had told him that he loved him, so why couldn’t he say it back? He hates to think it, but that night when they argued… it must’ve been the same night he thought Callum didn’t love him back. And that couldn’t be further from the truth.

The next moments happened too quickly and too slowly at the same time. Callum wasn’t sure what came over him, but seeing Ben so… emotional and supportive with him was the last straw. He couldn’t keep up this act anymore. His gaze shifted down to those precious lips, and Callum knew he can’t just be mates with Ben. Not any longer.

Callum went for it, closing his eyes as he kissed Ben.

He was overcome with relief, pain, love, and so much more. He was careful not to move too fast, reverently pressing his lips against the other man. It felt right finally succumbing to his desires. If he tried hard enough, he could pretend that nothing had changed. He almost felt Ben lean into it, as well.

But the moment didn’t last long. Ben pushed against Callum’s chest as they were forced to separate. He had an exasperated look on his face.

“What… What was that for?”

“I… I’m not sure…”

Ben was standing now, his hands on his hips. “Look, I’m all up for a shag as much as the next guy, but we’re mates, Cal. I thought that was what you wanted us to be?”

Callum stood too. “I never said that was what I wanted!”

“Then what the hell was that just now? Especially when we were just talking ‘bout our failed love lives!” Ben’s voice was raised as he spoke. He seemed to have sobered up after their kiss, his happy expression nowhere to be found.

“I just… I just don’t understand how you could look me straight in the eyes and not remember…” Callum shouldn’t have said that. He’s let out too much, and it won’t be long before Ben picks up on it.

“Remember what, Cal?! Is there something else I should know about ya?” Ben was flailing his arms at his sides, motioning between the chasm of space between them. “Or… is there something ya wanna say about us?”

Callum couldn’t meet Ben’s glare. He looked down at his shoes, the glasses on the coffee table… anywhere that wasn’t Ben. He’s messed up again… and he doesn’t know where to start to make it better.

“So c’mon. Tell me, yeah? Were we ever more than just mates?”

[raendown]

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 3466 Chapter: 2/? Summary: Not all wars are fought on the battlefield. Some are fought at the conference table, with whispers in the shadows, or even in the bedroom.

In a world where the Senju and Uchiha traditional lands were too far apart to have ever made them enemies, Butsuma and Tajima are the ones who come together and sign a treaty of peace. Madara isn't happy to have his life signed away for him in a political marriage to strengthen the bond between their clans. He is even less happy to have Tobirama make assumptions of him from their very first night together. What follows from there is a journey of healing, of learning, and finding the places to belong in the places least expected.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

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Chapter 2

The festivities after the wedding were, in a word, unique. As with the rest of this event they were a strange mish-mash of Uchiha and Senju traditions, emphasizing the alliance between their two clans. What kept most of Madara’s attention through all of it, however, was his new husband.

It was fascinating to watch him in comparison to others, a pillar of cool indifference sitting completely still in the face of the whirlwind that was Hashirama. The older man bounced around his brother like an excited puppy, appearing and disappearing as the evening wore on, popping up at random with a bright smile and new gossip to spout before wandering off again. Tobirama, in complete contrast, was a perfect example of poise where he sat on his cushion beside Madara. He greeted their guests with a rumbling baritone and carefully chosen words that walked a very fine line between polite and brusque.

From what Madara had overheard between the two Senju siblings Tobirama wasn’t as young as he originally thought. He was nineteen to Madara’s twenty-two, not nearly as large of a difference as the peace treaty talks had led him to believe. First impressions seemed to suggest that he was also more mature than his older brother and shared very few personality traits with him, a boon he was most grateful for.

As the revelries droned on Madara was introduced to the few other people who were ostensibly the most important in his new husband’s life. He met a vicious woman named Touka whom for a moment he felt should have been born in the Uchiha clan. A gaze as sharp and cold as hers would have been incredible with a Sharingan to bolster her power. Then her eyes fell on her cousin and she softened just the slightest bit, leaning down to coo mockingly over Tobirama and whisper teasing things in his ear like any sibling might. He also met Hashirama’s wife and understood immediately that they might never be close friends. Uzumaki Mito was a proud and fearsome woman who entered each room as if she were a queen, expecting all others to bow before her. She earned his grudging respect over the course of one conversation – as well as made him question what in the seven hells had inspired her to wed Hashirama, of all people.

It took almost three full hours before the two grooms saw fit to finally speak with one another in direct conversation for the very first time. Dinner had been cleared away long ago and Tobirama’s fingers lingered on the stem of his champagne glass like a lover’s touch. The alcohol was imported from a distant land, something Madara had never tasted, and he found that every sip he took made him feel strangely as though he were sipping bubbles. He was scrunching his nose at the sensation when he noticed the man beside him going still, red eyes flicking down to stare with intense interest at Madara’s sleeve.

“Is that silk from the Land of Water?” he asked. Madara raised an eyebrow, looking down at his arm.

“Yes, an old family heirloom,” he replied. It was an incredibly rare material and very expensive. This kimono had been in his clan’s treasury for generations, worn only by those of the head family, and it should have been an honor to carry on that tradition. It wasn’t something he thought would catch the eye of this man, although he couldn’t have said what made him think like that.

“The pattern is fascinating, especially the seal work in the stitching.” When Madara stared at blankly Tobirama tilted his head ever so slightly in question. “Did you not know it was there?”

“No, I knew it was there but how did you?”

Tobirama’s lips quirked ever so slightly. “I am a sensor. I’d thought the buzz on my senses was just from having this many chakra signatures so close together all at once. Then I realized it was coming from you; I can feel the latent power in your kimono. It’s fascinating.”

The look in his eyes said he would very much like to take the silk apart and study it to unravel all the many hidden secrets. Madara was torn between the urge to lean away in protection of his precious heirloom and the desire to let him do as he pleased. Few in his own clan were even aware of the protective seals built in to his garments, commissioned that way so many years ago the memory had been lost to time. To his knowledge Tobirama was the only person who had ever sensed that the seals were there, so subtle was their work. He was impressed to say the least.

“My brother tells me you’re not entirely a bumbling idiot.”

Being impressed gave way immediately to being flabbergasted as Madara’s jaw gaped open.

“I – what?”

“Hashirama tells me you are passably intelligent.”

“Uhh…” He realized the irony, of course, that he currently looked nothing more than a fool. He wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to say to that. “I am regarded as a rather skilled tactician I suppose.” It was the best response he could come up with yet he still wanted to slap a palm to his own face. That certainly hadn’t helped him sound intelligent.

Tobirama looked at him with a face entirely devoid of expression for so long he started to wonder if the man was suddenly regretting every life choice that had ever brought him to this moment, married to a complete idiot. Just as he was about to open his mouth and attempt to redeem himself Tobirama let out a contemplative hum, the corners of his mouth twitching again, and turned back to watching their guests. Madara blinked, unsure what that reaction was supposed to mean and unwilling to embarrass himself further by asking. He still wasn’t sure if that observation was meant as an insult or not.

The rest of the night passed with very little conversation between them. Hashirama flitted back and forth, chattering at the both of them with every pass he made by their table. Izuna showed up after a while and helped Madara feel a bit more comfortable by bringing up their last spar, mentioning that he thought he had finally figured out how to block that one strike of Madara’s he never seemed to be able to get away from. He noticed Tobirama watching them with interest out of the corner of his eye and realized he had no idea what the younger man’s skill level was like. Hashirama he had encountered on the battlefield once or twice. Tobirama was a mystery. He wondered if his husband would like to spar sometime. If nothing else if would be an excellent way to get to know each other, a traditional shinobi introduction.

Finally, after a few more hours which felt like days, it was time to leave. In yet another tradition that felt strange to him, the Senju guests insisted the newlyweds be escorted to their new home in a raucous procession that twisted through the streets behind them as they went. They were dropped off at their front door amid jeering whistles that he wasn’t sure if he should be offended by. Tobirama appeared to take it all in stride, barely even seeming to notice as they were waved in to their freshly built house by a pair of adolescents wiggling their eyebrows at them.

And then they were alone.

Madara looked closely at his surroundings in an attempt to distract himself from the man standing beside him. He’d given his opinions and requests for how their house should be built but this was the first he’d seen of it since, instead of helping the construction crews, he had spent the last year deliberately avoiding anything that reminded him of his impending nuptials. He supposed the full inspection should wait for the next day when he wasn’t quite as exhausted so for now he settled for an impression of good quality wood – probably built using Hashirama’s fabled Mokuton – and glimpses of tasteful furniture in the next room. He allowed those things to hold his interest and distract him until the two of them were standing side by side in a bedchamber on the second floor lit only by a single candle. Obviously someone had prepared for their arrival.

Both of them being clad in formal clothing meant that neither could undress themselves without assistance. Madara fought with his cheeks, trying not to blush and failing when Tobirama casually asked if Madara could help remove his clothing. He averted his eyes once the other was down to the last thin layer of his hadajuban and requested help in return. Tobirama looked amused by his bashfulness but said nothing.

His touch was gentle as he untied Madara’s obi and helped him shrug out of his many layers but it was also strangely invasive. Pale hands lingered more than necessary and with each layer he seemed to find an excuse for his fingers to brush against Madara’s skin. It was unnerving, keeping Madara on edge until finally he too was clad only in one thin layer of soft cotton gifted to him brand new for the occasion. He felt exposed even though he was technically still fully covered. When Tobirama reached for his last piece of clothing he leapt away as if he were being attacked, eyes widened and pulse racing.

“What are you doing?” he demanded. One side of Tobirama’s mouth lifted.

“Helping you undress?” he replied. Madara huffed.

“I think I’ve undressed enough, thank you! This is fine!”

“Still a bit too much clothing, don’t you think?” The pale man took slow steps toward him, an oddly predatory look on his face that made Madara feel almost as if he were being hunted. “I suppose I could work around them but why bother?”

Madara refused to back away because that showed weakness and he was not weak. He did lean away from the other man, though, unaware of the very harried look on his face.

“Work around them?” he repeated. “What on earth are you talking about? What do think we’re going to be doing, sparring?” He snorted almost in time with Tobirama.

“Sparring. If that’s the euphemism you’d like to use, then sure.” The younger man had stepped right up in to his personal space and seemed to loom over him with the strangest light in his eye. He was very good at looming, really making that height difference work for him. Madara frowned at his new husband.

“Euphemism? What would you call it then?” He was getting more and more off-balance by the second.

“Sex.”

Tobirama jerked as Madara’s suddenly flailing hand caught him under the jaw by accident. Madara stumbled backwards, no longer caring if it looked like a retreat or not as utter mortification flooded his system. The blush he had been working so hard at holding back broke free of his control to color his entire face a screaming shade of red.

“What!? Are you out of your mind? We’ve only just met!” He tried not to clutch his own bosom like some civilian milkmaid but it was harder than it should have been. His companion gave him an odd look.

“Yes and now we are married; this is what married couple do.” Tobirama spoke in such a matter-of-fact tone that Madara was left gaping. This man was insane!

“You expect me to have sex with a perfect stranger?” he demanded. “Just-just like that?” Tobirama looked genuinely confused at his reaction, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head in a considering manner. Something appeared to occur to him because both of his eyebrows slowly raised up towards his hairline.

“You’re a virgin!”

Madara scowled, the blush on his cheeks spreading down the back of his neck.

“Well you don’t have to sound so incredulous! Of course I’ve never- I was unmarried! Are you saying you’re not a virgin?” The very idea seemed-

“Not for years,” Tobirama stated in a casual manner, as if it should have been expected that he wouldn’t be. Madara gaped. He found himself almost personally offended that the one he was marrying was not a virgin, especially when the other was still a couple of years younger than him and never so much as betrothed before. At his incredulous look Tobirama appeared confused again. “It’s not such a big deal. There’s probably very few people my age who are virgins. Did you really hold out for marriage? What if your partner had no idea what they were doing?”

“I don’t know! We’d learn together or something! Seek advice!” Flustered, he was aware, was not a good look on him. He felt like an awkward bumbling idiot and he hated the feeling. Hated the man before him for bringing out those feelings.

“If you’re willing to learn I’m willing to teach,” Tobirama told him and it was as though a flip had been switched once again. Everything from his expression to his posture to the angle of his hips suddenly exuded sensuality. Madara’s mouth went dry even as he took another step back, not even realizing that he was clutching the edges of his clothing and holding them tightly closed as though he expected the other to force him.

Tobirama flipped back to scowling again at the motion, visibly offended. Madara did not care.

“You are a stranger to me!” he cried. “Intimacy should be between lovers, not just two people who happen to be in the same room together! So just you keep your hands to yourself! I am not some harlot willing to fall in to bed with a perfect stranger just because we signed some stupid piece of paper!” He only barely resisted the urge to stomp his foot.

“You signed that stupid piece of paper. I did not. You have only yourself to blame if you cannot hold up your end of any agreements that you chose to put your name on. Are you always this uptight, oh husband of mine? Should I expect a lifetime of this?”

“Expect whatever you want but expect to keep your hand off of me!”

“What I expect is for both of us to make an equal effort. Whether you like it or not – and it’s becoming rather obvious that you do not – we are married. You and I are the knot to tie our clans together and if that knot unravels then so does peace. So quit looking at me like I’ve come to steal your virtue and get your head out of your ass. You’re not some innocent maiden; you are a clan heir. And before you let that go to your head I will remind you that so am I!”

Madara looked at Tobirama and saw every dream of true love he’d ever had disappearing in to mist, ash scattering in the wind faster than he could grasp after the fading remnants. He couldn’t help thinking that he’d never met someone so different from himself in all the wrong ways. It wasn’t truly a fair thought since he didn’t actually know very much about this man yet but Madara had always been quick to judge people. He judged Tobirama now and found him lacking.

In the fading mist of his dreams he could almost see the shadow of his doomed future, married to a man he didn’t love, sniping and clawing at each other over every word. Grief settled quietly at the base of his spine, a knot of piteous hurt he refused to show. Instead he focused on the anger. How dare this perfect stranger try to speak down to him! How dare this man suggest that Madara was anything but dutiful! He’d gone through with it, hadn’t he? He had put his name on the paper and come to Konoha to allow a noose to be tied around his neck. To say he was not making an effort was incredibly insulting.

“Do not speak to me of peace!” Madara snarled. “I’ve lost three brothers to these stupid conflicts between the clans, I know what it is to want peace! ‘Making an effort’ as you call it has nothing to do with allowing a perfect stranger to touch me in ways he has not earned!”

“Earned? You make it sound like I’ve asked you to grace me with some favor that you find repugnant!” He looked bewildered and angry, insulted, and Madara could feel his own spiky personality bristling, throwing barbs before he had a chance to think them through.

“Maybe I find you repugnant!” he cried. “You’re a man! I’ve been married off to another man! No one took my wishes in to account in this. No one stopped to ask me if I was at all interested in such aberrant acts!”

He watched in confusion as Tobirama’s scowl melted away to return his face to the empty canvas much like the way it had been all night. In an instant that pale face was blank, his three red tattoos the only expression to be found. It was unnerving. Deep down a feeling in Madara’s gut told him that he had just said something in very poor taste, something he should apologize for.

He didn’t.

“I did not know you found such things so distasteful,” the younger man said, ice cracking in every word. “I will endeavor not to insult you further. Husband.”

With that he turned away and Madara watched in silence as his new spouse slid in between the sheets of their futon, facing away towards the far wall. The candle by the doorway flickered and danced, sending one weak flame of light spilling across the back of a white neck. His hair nearly blended in to the pillow he lay on and, despite the lax position he had arranged himself in, tension was still visible between his shoulders. In an obvious effort to put as much distance between them as possible he lay almost hugging the side of the futon and the petty parts of Madara noted that it wasn’t necessary in such a large bed but much appreciated. Clearly as the wronged party here he deserved to have the most space to be comfortable in.

He took one step towards the bed before remembering his hair. Between them they had taken off his clothing but he was still going to have to free his thick mane from the topknot that had miraculously survived the night without unravelling.

If he’d had help it would have been much easier. He deliberately did not think about the help that lay only a few feet away pretending to be asleep already. Instead he wrestled with the stubborn locks by himself until he had pulled the constraints apart and rescued his heirloom kanzashi from the carnage. It took some time to brush it all out; having it all twisted together for so long had given him some interesting kinks to work through.

By the time he sorted out his own head and was ready at last for sleep he had cooled down from their argument quite a bit. He was therefore calm enough to admit that most of his upset had come from sheer panic, from the feeling that he was not in charge of the situation and needing to regain that control. He had, perhaps, spoken a little too harshly and said some things he didn’t mean. Not that there was anything new about that. Izuna told him constantly that he needed to just breathe when he was angry. Madara never listened, despite the fact that he really should.

It was a right fine mess he’d made now. The very same day that he got married and already he had managed to anger his new life partner, possibly alienated him entirely. He would have to find a way to fix this or at least patch the damage done because Tobirama was disgustingly right about one thing at least. The two of them were a symbol of peace and if being a clan heir had taught him anything it was that symbols were important. A symbol gave the lower ranks something to look at, something to look up to. Should their partnership dissolve so easily it would be simple for others to assume that peace as a whole would do the same. It was imperative that they at least make this marriage appear to work.

When he finally laid his head on the pillow Madara wondered if he was up to this task. He was a man made for war, trained for little more since birth. What did he know of peace or how to make it? What did he know of marriage?

[aliciameade]

Baby - Ch. 13

Title: Baby Author: aliciameade Rating: *** M *** Pairing: Stephanie Smothers/Emily Nelson Summary:  That tearful kiss shared between Stephanie and Emily wasn't their first—and it certainly wasn't their last.

(Chapter 1)

Also on AO3

(You can buy me a ko-fi if you want to!)

Stephanie Smothers is a good person.

She reminds herself of this daily when she applies moisturizer at the bathroom mirror in the mornings and when she tucks her son into bed each night.

She’s made mistakes; nobody’s perfect. Some of them have been bigger than others, but that’s true for everyone. She doesn’t regret those mistakes. They’ve made her who she is today and she likes herself, for the most part. There are things she’s done that she knows if people knew about them, they’d expect her to be remorseful. Embarrassed, even.

What happened between Chris and her when they were teenagers is one of those things. She can rationalize away the judgment; they were both in mourning, they had an innate connection, there was intrigue in the way Chris looked so much like their father and Stephanie looked so much like her mother. There was a wedding photo of their shared parents on the fireplace mantle of her childhood home they’d gazed at together; it was almost spooky, the resemblances. They might have found it...kinky, in a way.

All of those things led to what transpired between them the day they met and the connection they felt was the reason it continued long enough for Stephanie to find herself knowingly pregnant by him while desperately clinging to a lie that it wasn’t his; it was her husband’s.

Her husband died angry knowing the truth.

That, she does regret. That she hadn’t been able to apologize for her dishonesty.

But she’d learned from an early age that when you loved someone, you should hold on to them. Do what you can to help them and support them and protect them. Try your best every day to make them happy even if you have to sacrifice your own happiness.

Even if that means doing something unsavory.

~ ~

~ ~

It’s business as usual for a time. Parent-teacher conferences. Miles and Nicky’s school holiday program (she sits with Emily—and Sean). Three weeks of the boys being on winter break and being a 24/7 stay-at-home mom. Sometimes she watches Nicky, too, and it’s more of an excuse for Emily and her to see one another than it is to give Sean a break from taking care of him all day.

Her Excel spreadsheet grows by the day as she plans. Phone numbers, names, addresses. Dates and times. Flight numbers. Dollar amounts.

Emily insists she hasn’t heard from Faith since Los Angeles whenever Stephanie asks. She wants to know if her sister is still demanding money, still threatening Nicky.

“I’m only trying to help,” she says when Emily gets upset.

“I know,” Emily replies with a sigh and some kind of physical contact. Stephanie’s never quite certain if it’s to indicate an apology for getting irritated or out of a need for comfort.

She decides it doesn’t really matter.

They eat leftover Thanksgiving turkey after they spend the holiday apart. They kiss under the many sprigs of mistletoe that Stephanie places throughout her home. They go to the winter carnival in the town square and Emily kisses her at the bottom of the ice slide while Nicky and Miles run up its stairs, in full view of everyone. No one seems to notice. Or if they do, the gossip never makes it back to them. Stephanie’s heart had been in her throat when Emily did that.

When the countdown on television reaches zero in Times Square, they kiss while their children sleep on the floor having failed in their valiant attempt to stay awake and ring in the new year.

They cook together. Shop together. Emily spends more and more time at Stephanie’s house and Stephanie can’t help but wonder what Sean thinks of it all. Her frequent absence must be glaringly obvious to him. She wonders if he thinks it means Emily’s just unhappy or if he might think there’s more to it than that.

She doesn’t dare ask Emily and she avoids crossing paths with Sean at all costs.

It’s the weekend after Valentine’s Day when Stephanie asks Emily to spend a Saturday night with her. It’s under the guise of having their own belated night of romance and Emily readily agrees. And while Stephanie plans to indulge in that wholeheartedly, she also has an ulterior motive.

~ ~

~ ~

“Hi, baby,” Emily says when she arrives. Her suit is a dark red, almost the color of blood, and Stephanie wonders if she chose it to acknowledge the recently passed holiday.

She leans up into Emily’s kiss, tugging on the lapels of her jacket to give herself a bit more lift.

“Mom?”

Miles’s voice cuts through their moment and she almost falls backward if not for Emily catching her by the elbow.

“Hey, buster, I thought you were picking out the toys you’re taking tonight?” she says as she tries to mask her panic. When she turns she finds Miles standing in the hall a few feet away, a Buzz Lightyear figure in one hand and an Iron Man in the other as if he had come to ask her opinion.

His face is full of uncertainty. “You’re kissing Emily?”

She hears Emily clear her throat and she doesn't know if it’s to speak, to not laugh, or out of discomfort. There’s no clarification from Emily and Stephanie has no choice but to respond.

“Just saying hello to my best friend,” she says as she hurries to him intent on ushering him back to his room to finish his part of packing to go spend the night at Emily’s house before Sean arrives. She doesn’t want Sean waiting in the house while he finishes.

“That was like when she kisses Nicky’s dad.” He seems curious more than anything as she takes both action figures and puts them into the overnight bag open on his bed.

She’s feared this for months. She knows Miles is a smart, observant child. She knows Emily and she aren’t always the most cautious when they’re together and away from other adults. They had been extremely prudent at first. They kept their distance, waited until any present children were distracted or absent before sharing words or touches that could prompt a question or a story that gets shared with a father.

It wasn’t always easy and they were growing careless as their comfort with one another grew. Their little escapade has grown into a full-blown love affair that’s lasted through autumn and into late winter. It felt so normal to pick up Nicky and Miles from school and often come home to find Emily already there and waiting, sometimes with a snack set out for the boys (sometimes it was even a healthy one) that it was difficult to not hold Emily’s hand while they stood side-by-side in the kitchen asking the boys about their day. It was difficult to not settle back into Emily’s arms the moment they sat together on the couch and the boys shared the bean bag chair. More often than not, she gave in.

It isn’t her fault that she can’t resist being close to Emily the moment Emily opens herself to her and invites her in with something as simple as a touch. It isn’t her fault that more than once she falls asleep there in Emily’s arms on the couch only to be stirred awake either by Emily or Miles when it’s time for bed.

It isn’t her fault that sometimes they forget to be as quiet as they should be when spending the night together with one or both of the boys in the house.

Stephanie is confident Miles has no idea what any such sounds mean; he’s too young to really understand sex and she doesn’t have plans to teach him about it with any kind of specificity for at least another year unless he asks a question that warrants it.

His ignorance, however, doesn’t assuage the fear boiling up inside her as he still seems to be thinking about what he witnessed. Nor does she know how much Nicky knows about sex and what he might be teaching Miles.

“Sometimes grown-ups like to kiss each other,” she says in response to his statement. She desperately wants to avoid lying to her son. Telling the truth isn’t an option; Miles is too young to be trusted to keep such a secret if she tells him she loves Emily that way. “Do you want to take anything else tonight?” Her hands refuse to be idle and she straightens his bedding needlessly.

“Nicky says you and his mom like to wrestle.” His voice is timid, as though he knows he’s sharing some type of secret information.

Her hands slow their smoothing of his comforter. That is a much more direct statement than commenting on a kiss. Much less simple to explain away than it being a greeting. “Nicky told you that?” she says, hoping her worry doesn’t come through in her voice as she stands and turns to him. “What else did Nicky tell you?”

“Just that you like to wrestle,” he says with a shrug. “Can I bring Unikitty, too?”

Stephanie sighs in relief at his continued innocence and the change of topic. She’s making her way toward the net suspended in the corner of his room that serves as the home for his many stuffed toys to retrieve it when she sees Emily in his doorway. Her entire outfit has been changed; the burgundy suit is gone and she’s wearing a worn-out tee from Barnard College that is a size too small and a pair of black yoga pants, one of which used to belong to Stephanie and both of which reside in a drawer that, at some point, became home to several items belonging to Emily.

“Who likes to wrestle?”

Stephanie’s not even finished reacting to Emily’s very, very poorly timed arrival and topic return when Miles is relaying what he’s just told Stephanie, to which Emily replies, “We sure do!” with a grin.

She rushes into the room, hands out to grab Miles and pick him up and crash them playfully onto his bed. “What about you?” she says as her tickling fingers make him squeal with laughter. “Do you like to wrestle?”

Stephanie watches it play out: Emily rough-housing with Miles in a way she never was good at, making him shriek and laugh and move on from his curiosity by letting him win. She doesn’t surrender too quickly, though, letting him have a good battle until, with his head in her stomach like a battering ram, he gets her onto her back to flop across her middle and pin her and declare himself the victor.

She doesn’t realize she’s crying until Emily brushes away a tear as she bends to kiss her cheek, Miles’s packed bag in her hand, to lead him out to wait for Sean and Nicky to pick him up.

Embarrassed, she finishes drying her eyes and follows. They end up in the living room and, to her surprise, Emily claims the bean bag chair instead of her usual spot on the couch and pulls Miles down to pile in next to her.

“Are you and Nicky going to finish your secret project?” she asks him in a stage whisper.

“What secret project?” Stephanie asks as she takes a seat on the couch. Her stomach feels floppy and her heart doesn’t seem to know where it should position itself in her chest. This is too real, too normal, too domestic.

Emily smiles at her and starts to say something but she’s cut off by Miles desperately and loudly shushing her to the point of clapping both of his hands over her mouth.

“It’s a secret!” he emphasizes, eyes wide in panic as he stares at Emily.

Stephanie has to try not to laugh (and cry) at the reaction. “You know we don’t keep secrets in this house, Smooch,” she scolds, but there’s no authority behind the statement and she knows it. She also knows she’s a big fat hypocrite.

She watches Emily twist her neck to free her mouth. “Maybe ‘surprise project’ is a better name for it. What do you think, bud?”

“Surprise project?” he says, as though he’s trying the phrase on for size. He nods. “Okay.”

“And I don’t get to know about this surprise project?”

“If you did, it wouldn’t be a surprise. Duhhhh,” Miles says with a dramatic eye roll.

Stephanie lets the “duh” slide in favor of...everything that’s happening right now. “Right, of course. When do I get to know what the surprise project is?”

Her question is met with a tight-lipped smile and a shrug from Miles; she looks to Emily for an answer only to see her copy his response.

It’s so adorable she could cry. Again. “I can’t have you two ganging up on me.”

“Oh, baby,” Emily says with a teasing pout, “don’t worry. I promise you’ll like it.”

Miles nods in agreement, still mum on the matter as though if he speaks he’ll ruin the surprise. His eyes light up a second later at the sound of a car in the driveway and he’s climbed out of the chair and is halfway to the door before Stephanie’s even made it to her feet.

“What are you guys cooking up?” Stephanie asks as she offers her hand to Emily to pull her up out of the low chair.

“You’ll see,” Emily says with a sly smile as she ducks down to touch her lips to Stephanie’s, hands still clasped.

They follow Miles who has the self-restraint to wait at the door instead of sprinting to Sean’s car in youthful excitement of a sleepover with his buddy.

Emily squeezes her hand. “I’ll walk him out.”

Stephanie looks up at her, a shared understanding between them. “Thank you,” she says before crouching and opening her arms. “Come give me a hug, Smooch!” She wraps him up in a bear hug when he does. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

She sits back on her heels and hears Emily say, “Ready to go, little man?” A hand ruffling his curls comes with it and it makes Miles laugh.

It also makes him look up at her and say, “Love you,” before letting himself out of the house.

“Love you, too,” Emily replies without pause as she steps away from Stephanie to follow him out the door, barefoot.

Stephanie feels dizzy like she’s in a parallel universe where she married and had a child with a woman named Emily and not a man named Davis...or Chris. It’s not as though she wasn’t aware that Emily cared for Miles. They’d grown closer over the months just as she and Emily had. It was inevitable, really, when Emily was becoming more and more a mainstay in their lives. Some weeks they spent more days together than apart. Emily was becoming a provider, a caregiver. She’d tuck him into bed, sometimes with Stephanie, sometimes by herself.

She even volunteered in his and Nicky’s classroom a few weeks ago. Stephanie was certain she’d never seen jaws drop so quickly when Darren, Stacy, and Sona walked in to pick up their children that afternoon to see Emily in semi-casual clothing cleaning up the aftermath of a fingerpainting session.

So it shouldn’t knock her off her feet this much to witness Emily taking on what can only be labeled as a parental role in Miles’s life. She knows she’s done the same with Nicky, though he spends more time with Sean than he does Stephanie unlike how much time Miles spends with Emily.

She’s still kneeling when Emily returns. She looks so light and fresh-faced Stephanie doesn’t know how she looks so happy living this double life. She doesn’t have time to ponder on it, though; her mind is too preoccupied with the shared moments between Emily and Miles to think about that right now.

Emily’s smiling as she locks the door and hits all three switches to kill the porch, foyer, and kitchen lights. “What are you doing on the floor, baby?” she says as she strides toward her and extends her hand. “Come on; it’s time to get you out of these clothes.”

~ ~

~ ~

“This isn’t what I had in mind when you said you were getting me out of my clothes.” Stephanie glances down at the tank top and shorts she’s been changed into. Emily had led her to the bedroom and Stephanie’s body had come alive at the familiar route, the only thing able to overcome her emotional response to domestic bliss.

She’d been sorely disappointed only to be handed clothes to put back on as soon as Emily had stripped her naked while sharing nothing but a soft kiss or two while she politely rebuffed Stephanie’s wandering hands.

But she can wait; the overwhelming, almost uncontrollable lust that sparked their affair has, after so many months, settled into burning embers instead of a roaring fire. Constant, quiet, yet hotter than the flames that birthed it. She can wait because she knows it will be amazing when they come back to it later.

“Come on,” Emily says before biting her bottom lip and tugging Stephanie back toward the living room. She seems so happy and relaxed all Stephanie can do is smile and follow until she’s being pulled down onto the couch.

“What exactly are you up to?” she asks as Emily puts on some romantic comedy. It’s a bit of a surprise, Emily choosing such a thing, but she’s been working on stopping herself from assuming anything whatsoever about the woman.

“I want to just sit here and make out with you.” Emily smiles as she says it and Stephanie’s being pulled into her lap before she even finishes responding to it.

It’s so easy, so natural to sink into Emily. She’s been doing it for months and, frankly, it’s never been difficult, even from Day One. Emily had kissed her and hesitated in pulling away and Stephanie had melted.

She melts again now as she slips her arms around Emily’s neck to kiss her. It’s slow and hot and all the things that make her heart pound and toes curl and it’s only kissing, but she’s sure that kissing alone could be enough to be satisfying if it’s all they ever shared physically.

But she’s really glad they share a lot more than kisses.

“You just want to make out?” she asks with a nudge of her nose against Emily’s. “During a movie in the dark like we’re teenagers?”

Emily’s hands sweep under the edge of Stephanie’s shirt and brush over warm skin and she kisses her again before she responds. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” Stephanie mumbles against her lips. She edges her kiss a bit more aggressive and fails at hiding the shiver that follows Emily’s quiet moan.

“Maybe I’ve been thinking about kissing you all day.” Emily’s hands roam a little more but never toward intimate territory.

Stephanie sighs at the confession and tightens her arms and leans back to entice Emily to lie down with her.

She resists so Stephanie whines and Emily’s hands finally slip down to her ass and squeeze it in wordless reply to her protest.

“But I want you on top of me.” Stephanie tries again, letting most of her weight pull at Emily’s shoulders in hope that her lack of subtly will do the trick.

She gets excited when Emily begins to lean with her but then she sits back again. “I’ll be on top of you later.”

Stephanie groans at the words and tries to stand up with the intent to drag Emily to her bedroom to experience just that but Emily keeps her rooted in place on her lap. “Why are you making us wait?” She runs her hands up under Emily’s adopted college tee and palms the soft, bare flesh beneath it to try to tempt her. However, she seems unfazed.

“Oh, don’t worry, baby,” Emily says with the pouty tone that Stephanie once found mildly condescending but now only finds incredibly hot. “I’ll make it worth the wait.”

Words like that are why she finds it hot so she nods. There are no more words after that for a while save for those of the movie that is playing in the background. The desperate arousal that began to spike wanes to a simmer again and Stephanie relaxes, content (for now) to share the slow, lazy kisses that promise so much more yet to come.

It distracts her from her goal for the night. It’s not until they’re in bed, breathless and recovering and she’s saying, “I love you, too,” that she remembers it.

She takes one more beat while Emily rolls off her to lay side by side, spent from their mutual release, staring at the ceiling.

“Hey, Em?” she says after clearing her throat.

Emily hums in response.

“Can we talk?”

There’s a pause, and then, “No good conversation ever begins with those words.”

Stephanie laughs nervously. “No, no. I promise it’s not like that.” It’s not like that at all and she feels bad she might have sparked such a worry in Emily. She also relishes the fact that such a thing is even possible: make Emily worry she was going to have The Talk.

She hears Emily take a breath. “We’re talking now, aren’t we?”

“Yeah.” It’s Stephanie’s turn to take a breath. “Um, I’ve been thinking—”

“About?”

“I want to be with you. For real, I mean.”

There’s another lengthy pause and Emily doesn’t say anything, but she does find Stephanie’s hand and link their fingers.

“I’m tired of pretending we’re something that we’re not. I’m tired of worrying that someone might find out and what might happen if they do. I’m tired of-of sharing you.” She notices her heart is racing when she stops talking; she hadn’t realized what it would feel like to admit those things out loud.

“Are you asking me to get a divorce? Because I can’t. We don’t have a prenup; Sean will take half of what I’ve managed to keep him from spending.”

“I’m not asking you to do that.”

“Then what are you asking me to do?”

Stephanie takes another deep breath. “I want us to...run away together.”

There’s more silence followed by a bark of laughter. “We can’t just run away together, baby. Are you crazy?”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about it and—”

“You’ve been thinking about it?” Emily sounds amused in the darkness, but at least she doesn’t sound mad.

“Did you and Sean ever take out those life insurance policies?”

The question hangs in the air for a few extra seconds. “Yes,” Emily answers slowly. “We’re not going to kill Sean for the insurance money. Are you fucking crazy?”

“No, no, of course not!” Stephanie rushes.

“Then stop beating around the bush, Dark Side. What have you been plotting in that brain of yours?”

“Have you heard from Faith lately?” She asks the question tentatively; it’s always a sensitive topic, and for good reason.

“What? What does she have to do with any—” Emily stops mid-word.

“Is she still threatening you?” Stephanie continues. “Extorting you? Threatening Nicky?”

“Why are you bringing her up right now?”

Stephanie thinks about the one and only photograph Emily ever showed Stephanie of her and her sister as teenagers. “You’re identical, right? That means fingerprints, DNA...”

“They figured out how to tell the difference between identical twins’ DNA.”

“And you’ve been paying attention to that research because…?” Stephanie’s on thin ice with this entire conversation and while she knows it, it seems as though it might only be a shallow pond to fall into should it crack. “I know you’re going to think I’m crazy—”

“No, but I think whatever you’re about to say is probably crazy.”

“What if…” She takes a steadying breath and hopes Emily doesn’t do something like call the police. “What if you invited Faith to visit you here and...and what if Emily Nelson was found murdered in her own home?” She holds her breath and feels Emily sit up next to her, can see her looming tall in the near darkness.

“Did you just suggest killing my sister?”

“She torments you.” Stephanie tries to resist the urge to backpedal and say it’s a terrible idea but she knows it’s really not, other than the parts about murder and insurance fraud. “All she does is cause you grief. She threatens to ruin your life, to hurt Nicky. And you’re not happy here, Em, I know it. We could do it and your life insurance would help us get resettled somewhere with the boys, and—”

“If I’m dead, how do we have the insurance money? Sean’s my beneficiary.”

It takes Stephanie a second to realize Emily hasn’t thrown her out of her own house at her outlandish and highly illegal plan that involves killing her own flesh and blood. “Change it to me.”

“What?!” Emily scoffs.

“Don’t tell Sean; you don’t have to tell a beneficiary that you removed them from a policy. I’ll collect it and when Sean challenges it I’m going to explain that I know about the affair he’s been having with his T.A. I’ll say you were planning to leave him so you changed it in case he tried to hurt you once you told him because I’m your best friend and I’m the only person you could still trust to care for Nicky.

But if we do this right, I won’t have to tell him anything because as soon as your body is found, I’ll tell the police that he was cheating on you and refusing to let you out of your emotionally abusive marriage and that I knew you were planning to ask for a divorce and that he must have snapped when you told him.

We’ll need to start the paperwork to make me Nicky’s legal guardian. Sean will never sign it but if we’re halfway there when you die and he gets arrested for your murder it will be easy for me to petition the court to push it through. Sean will be in prison. Emily Nelson will be dead. I will gain custody and then Stephanie Smothers will disappear.”

“You’re going to fake your death, too?”

“I’m going to disappear on a nature walk with the boys as soon as I have the money and custody. You disappeared and changed your identity once; you can do it again and do it for all of us. New names, new social security numbers, new passports. You’ll leave the country as soon as Faith is gone and we’ll join you as soon as we can.”

There’s an excruciating length of silence and all she can hear is her own quick breath, the adrenaline of revealing her plot making her blood rush.

“All this so we can be together?” Emily finally says.

Stephanie sits up and moves close, kissing Emily’s bare shoulder. “I’d move mountains to wake up next to you every day.” Emily’s hand has remained in hers the entire conversation but it shakes loose now only to relocate to rest on Stephanie’s thigh.

“I should just divorce him.”

It’s the first real admission that Emily wants to leave Sean and the weight of that drives Stephanie to keep kissing her wherever she can reach. Not in a frantic way, but soft, warm kisses on the curve of her shoulder and the length of her upper arm. “You’ll never escape her, Em,” she says quietly. “If we’re to be together, I don’t want her haunting us. I can’t put Miles in danger.”

She feels Emily’s fingertips tickling her inner thigh in the way she does when she’s hinting at touching her with more purpose. Stephanie can’t quite believe she would be in such a mood in the middle of this conversation, even if they are having it naked and in bed. But the way her own body responds to it, how her knee tilts a bit toward Emily in a way that is inviting, makes her feel guilty for whatever judgment she was about to pass.

“You’d really kill for me?”

Stephanie reaches to touch Emily’s chin and turn her face toward her and down into a kiss. She holds it for several seconds, lips simply touching. She doesn’t know how she arrived at this place in her life to have this conversation. To even consider such a possibility. She doesn’t stop to wonder why Emily isn’t horrified by any of it.

Stephanie Smothers is a good person.

She nods and pulls Emily’s hand higher between her legs. “Anything.”

~ ~

~ ~

(Chapter 14)

[jaroslavlewis]

The Same Old You: The Flight Back

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Title: The Same Old You

Chapter 2: The Flight Back

Author: Jaroslav Lewis

Fandom: Detective Conan

Pairing: ShinRan with slight KazuHei

Summary: Time has passed for them to believe that they have changed only for them to realize that some things haven't. Some things just don't.

Chapter Summary: Turns out his trip back to Japan did not only involve revisiting old places but old memories as well.

Disclaimer: I don't own Detective Conan and any of Gosho Aoyama's characters. I simply borrow them when I'm bored.

New York, Sunday, 9:00pm

Shinichi places the last neatly folded shirt inside his luggage. It fits perfectly and completes the whole set of his things to bring when he flies back to Japan for Hattori's wedding. He takes one last look and checks. He finds a decent amount of casual shirts, formal button up shirts, jackets, pants, underwear and toiletries and then he nods to himself. This should be good enough to last his whole trip. He zips the trolley bag and then places it near his dresser. He smiles nervously. He is all set. After ten years, he is going back. He is going home, even for a short while.

He hops onto his bed and pulls the warm comforter up to his shoulders. He closes his eyes but he finds out that he is not sleepy enough to doze off just yet. It is still too early, but he contemplates since he is going to fly very early tomorrow. So he closes his eyes again and he gives it a few minutes.

But instead of drifting into dreamland his thoughts travel elsewhere, back to Japan, back to her. The thought sinks in finally. He is flying back home and he is going to see her soon, at the wedding or maybe even before that. Then his eyes shoot open. He is awake more than ever and then he grabs his phone on his night stand.

He decides to browse through it, maybe go on social media again or play a video game. Then an idea escapes his mind.

'I should probably message her…' He thinks to himself as he clicks on the messenger icon and on her name.

He begins to type,

Oi Ran. I'm coming home tomorrow.

Then he shakes his head and deletes it. The message seems too plain, although it does sound like him. But he figures that it shouldn't be how he should approach her especially since it has been a long time since they have spoken to each other.

He pauses, staring at the blinking line, waiting for him to type. He is unable to think of anything. So, he back tracks their old messages he finds out that their last message dates back to five years ago. He does not even remember what they were talking about back then. He back tracks even more and he notices how their conversations went from really long ones to just simple small talk and then to just hi's and hello's until soon they no longer bothered talking to each other. He feels his heart ache against his chest and then he asks himself, 'How could we have ended this way?'

Tokyo, Ten Years Ago

"No more secrets?" She asked. Her eyes searched for assurance as she cupped his cheek with her free, left hand since her fractured right arm was restrained in a cast. He closed his eyes and placed his hand over hers that is holding his cheek. He breathed a sigh of comfort as he leaned onto her touch. Suddenly, he felt warm. His whole body hurt with the injuries but her warm touch miraculously made him feel better, gave him relief.

Her eyes darted to the evident bruises on his cheek, the wound on his cut lip. She took a soft intake of breath as her eyes watered. She bit her lower lip to restrict a sob from coming out of her mouth. She tried to refrain from shedding any more tears only to fail afterwards when he opened his eyes and met hers.

Cerulean eyes looked alarmed with worry as he lifted his hand to wipe away her tears. His pair of sapphires met her amethysts. His delicate fingers brushed through the bruises and few cuts on her face. His heart ached at the sight of her hurting.

"No more secrets. I promise." He assured her as he nodded and gave her a soft smile. He scooched closer to her to get more comfortable as he sat next to her on her hospital bed. He carefully wrapped his arms around her, remembering to avoid holding her too tightly since she still suffered from a number of injuries.

He planted a soft kiss on the top of her head and inhaled her soft scent. He lightly pulled away to gaze at her again. Despite the cuts and bruises on her face, she still looked so beautiful.

Then he leaned in to press a soft kiss on her forehead and then another on her cheek where she was bruised and cut. He lightly pulled away only to lean closer to her at an angle where his lips were positioned just in front of hers. With just barely a millimeter between them the two of them shared each other's breath and then he closed the distance and kissed her so softly. It was chaste and barely lasted a few seconds but it was enough to drive both of them crazy, enough for him to lean in again for more after pulling away so shortly.

So he kissed her again, but this time with a little more boldness than the previous one. Butterflies did somersaults in her stomach as she felt his lips brush against hers in passionate but gentle way.

At the back of his head he noted that it was their first kiss, something he had dreamed of ever since he gained awareness of his feelings towards her. He thought to himself, that the place, the hospital room was probably the most unromantic place to share a kiss but at that moment, it just felt right and it didn't matter where it happened. The only thing that mattered was that they were finally together. No more secrets.

Osaka, Monday, 8:00 PM

It is their first night in Osaka, a week before the big wedding happens. Ran with Sonoko and Sera took an early flight to the city to spend more time with the couple and to plan Kazuha's bachelorette party. Now, they sit at the back of Heiji's car with him driving and Kazuha sitting at the passenger's seat. The couple is kind enough to offer them a ride to their hotel after picking them up from the airport and having dinner together.

"Heiji, don't forget we're gonna meet our parents tomorrow for the final fitting of their attires for the ceremony, okay?" Kazuha reminds her fiancé who remains focused on the wheel.

"What? I thought that wasn't until the day after tomorrow." Heiji reacts while keeping his eyes on the road. Kazuha rolls her eyes.

"It's tomorrow at 12 noon." Kazuha responds and Heiji's eyes widen in shock. His expression suddenly becomes conflicted.

"But I'm supposed to pick up Kudo at the airport that time!" Heiji reasons out. Ran's ears ring at the sound of her ex-boyfriend's surname. Sonoko side eyes at her friend knowingly, while Sera smirks, shaking her head.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Heiji whines, eliciting a scowl from his fiancée. She looks at him with an annoyed, bewildered expression.

"Excuse me? I told you so many times. I even listed our whole wedding preparation schedule on the calendar of our apartment!" Kazuha retorts. Heiji makes a face and shakes his head. It doesn't take much for Ran, Sonoko and Sera to predict that such little issue will lead to the couple bickering. Typical Heiji and Kazuha.

"Well, I can't just ditch Kudo so suddenly. I promised him!" Heiji says, worriedly. Kazuha scratches her head in a frustrated manner.

"Well you can't just ditch our parents as well." She points out. "Kudo-kun will understand. Besides, he's a grown man. He can handle himself."

"Yeah, but it's his first time in Japan after ten years." Heiji sighs. "I'm thinking, he'd at least want someone to be there for him when he arrives and I'm guessing he'd need some help with his luggage too…"

Ran finds herself unconsciously nodding, agreeing with Heiji. Sonoko lightly nudges at her with her elbow and gives her a suggestive look. Ran in turn looks at her questioningly and then shakes her head.

"Well this wouldn't have happened if you took time to pay attention to our wedding prep schedule!" Kazuha scolds. The other three remain silent, awkwardly listening to the couple's fight escalating. Ran clenches her skirt with her fist, silently praying that the little misunderstanding won't lead to another Heiji and Kazuha shouting fest like most of their fights do. She also considers an idea at the back of her head but she doesn't say anything.

"You just never listen to me, Heiji…"

"Ahou!" Heiji's tone raises. Ran flinches at the sound of his voice.

"Ano sa…" Ran begins out of impulse causing Kazuha to turn to her and Heiji to look at her through rearview mirror. She feels her heart pound rapidly through her chest. She bites her lips shyly, at the back of her head she considers the thought that she'll probably regret even suggesting it to them but she also thinks that she doesn't have any choice anyway. "If you guys want, I can go and pick him up in place of Hattori-kun…"

"That's actually-

"…a great idea!" Heiji exclaims.

"…insane!" Kazuha reacts.

Kazuha glares questioningly at Heiji who shrugs at her while he continues to drive.

"Ran-chan, are you sure you're gonna be okay with that?" Kazuha asks worriedly.

Ran opens her mouth to respond but Heiji immediately counters bluntly, "Sure it is! She and Kudo are fine. Besides, it has already been a decade. Ne, Nee-chan?"

'A decade… It's already been that long huh?' Ran thinks to herself, all of a sudden her mouth becomes dry. Realization comes to her. What is she supposed to say to him once they see each other? Suddenly she wishes to undo the events earlier, thinking to herself that she shouldn't have meddled with the couple. But it is too late now…

"Ahou!" Kazuha shouts at Heiji as she hits him violently on the shoulder, causing him to flinch.

"Kazuha-chan, it's okay." Ran assures the bride to be who turns to her with a hesitant look on her face. "I mean, Hattori-kun is right and Shinichi and I are okay. I swear. Besides, we're gonna see each other either way, at your wedding, right?"

"Well then I guess, if it's no trouble for you, then okay…" Kazuha sighs in surrender. She turns at Heiji, giving him another glare. Silence starts to fill the air so suddenly. Ran gazes at her window as her thoughts drift somewhere else.

Tokyo, Ten Years Ago

She had her fears.

She was aware of the dangers and death threats that his duty came with. She was used to the environment of the crime-solving industry. It did not bother her much because she knew how to defend herself. She was perfectly fine…

Until it happened.

She was put to a situation where she had no control of. She couldn't do anything to save him. She couldn't even defend herself. She was powerless against the syndicate. Both of them were. She almost watched him die right before her eyes.

Since then, she could never get the dark, tortured image of him off of her head. Even after the incident, it still haunted her. She had nightmares about it and every time, she was faced with such image in her dreams, she couldn't do anything.

She blamed herself. Maybe if she had been more careful, maybe if she had been stern enough to stop him from following the suspicious men in black, maybe if she had been more inquisitive and stuck to her gut-feeling about Conan's identity, maybe if she cornered him with her deduction and forced him to confess, then maybe she could've done something to protect him.

He always assured her that she was never at fault but deep down in her heart she still felt like she is responsible for what happened. So, she swore to herself she'd never make the same mistake again.

When things got back to normal, she and Shinichi had an agreement that they'd always know each other's whereabouts. It wasn't because Ran didn't trust him. She merely wanted to monitor his safety and Shinichi wanted the same for Ran so he agreed without second thought.

Ran was not a demanding girlfriend. Neither was she in anyway possessive. In fact, she was very considerate with his schedule. All she wanted was assurance that he wouldn't run into such trouble again and that if he does, she would be able to do something about it in any way she can.

Shinichi was more than willing to give her what she wants. He knew her fears and he understood. He loved her and he wanted to make it up to her. So he complied very well.

He always informed her if he had soccer practice, or if he had to go out with Nakamichi and the boys and most especially if he was needed for a case. He made sure to always text her that he got home safely after his agenda. Ran did the same. Shinichi knew her schedule, if she had Karate training after class or if she had to go out with Sonoko and the girls.

They had no problems.

Until a certain incident happened.

Ran had Karate training. Shinichi ran off to solve another case. Like always, they gave each other a heads up. Ran went home by herself. It was no biggie. She'd just have to patiently wait for Shinichi to call or text her once he got home.

So patiently she waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Until hours passed and there was still no phone call, not even a message. It was already midnight. If Shinichi had to extend his hours with the police, he'd tell her but he didn't call. It started to worry her, but she didn't give in to panic just yet. She messaged him via text and via social media and she waited again. Maybe he was busy.

So she stayed up late to wait again, but still no sign of him. She decided to call but his mobile could not be reached.

Suddenly the scenario felt so oddly familiar and then she was scared again. What if he was unconscious somewhere where no one could find him? What if they took all his means to contact for emergencies? What if he is hurt? Or worse… What if he's…

As mindless as it may seem, Ran rushed to find him. She didn't have much of a strategy. All she knew right then was that Plan A: she'd go to his house to see if he is home and if he still isn't, Plan B: she'd go on all night looking for him until she finds him. It was insane and irrational but it is what she did.

So she showed up at his door-step, in her sleepwear and a sweater, panic-stricken and frantically ringing his doorbell while she silently prayed for him to answer. Her eyes stung with tears threatening to fall with every ring that he didn't go out to open the gate to his house.

It took about 8 rings for him to show up with a confused look on his face, still in his uniform and with his hair sticking in different directions.

"Ran, what in the world? What are you…" He didn't get to finish his question as he opened his gate to let her in. He stared at her shaking form. She was shivering not just from the cold and her lack of warm clothing but also because of something else...

He placed his hands on her shoulders. His eyes looked concerned as he looked into her terrified ones. His heart ached. It was the most vulnerable he has seen of her. Ran was a strong woman and it was one thing to see her cry but another to see her so distraught and so frightened.

"You didn't call!" She sobbed. It wasn't an accusation but merely a statement of the reason why she was in panic. "I thought something happened to you! I…"

His arms wrapped around her instantly, taking her into a warm, tight and protective embrace. She continued to shake and shiver against his body. He felt like a total idiot for forgetting and a huge jerk for making her worry. He was supposed to call her soon, but the investigation was too long. His phone died. When he got home he was so tired that he fell asleep on the couch and forgot to tell her he was safe.

"Thank God, you're okay…" She cried with relief. And his heart ached a million times than it already did. How in the world did he deserve such a kind-hearted, loving woman like her? How could he be such an asshole for making her cry again?

"I'm sorry…" He breathed against her ear as he stroked her back, comforting her. "God, I'm so sorry, Ran…"

Tears soaked the jacket of his Teitan Highschool uniform. He felt her shake her head against his shoulder.

"I panicked. I over reacted. I'm so sorry…" She apologized, still sobbing. Suddenly she felt awfully embarrassed and pathetic.

"Shhh…" He hushed before pressing his lips on her forehead. "I should have called you. It wasn't your fault. I'm sorry I made you worry…"

She lightly pulled away to look up at him. She nodded in response and gave him a small smile. At this point, her sobbing has already subsided but her eyes were still watery with tears. She hair was disheveled from all the running she had just done.

He let out a relieved sigh as he ran his fingers through her hair and tucked any stray hair behind her ear. He ran his thumb through her tear-stained cheeks. No more words came out of his mouth for he had no idea what he should do to make her feel better.

New York, Monday, 6:00 AM

Shinichi presents his ticket and passport to the stewardess before boarding the plane. After a brief inspection of his passes, he is able to enter his flight bringing with him his extra hand-carried backpack where all of his valuables are contained. He walks through the aisle while placing his passport and other documents securely inside his backpack. He finds his designated seat by the window. He places his backpack in the compartment, bringing only his smart phone and earphones with him as he sits down comfortably on his seat.

He looks out the window as he waits for the plane to take off. He puts on his earphones but he doesn't listen to any music, instead he quietly observes the dim view of the airport ramp outside. The sun hasn't even risen just yet. He thinks about Japan, how the sun has probably long set there, given the evident time difference. He sits back to relax since he did not get much sleep last night. In about fifteen hours, he'll be back in Japan. It is gonna be a long flight.

Tokyo, Ten Years Ago

He still had guilt in his heart.

It was hard for him to get rid of, not after she got involved in the syndicate case and endangered her life because of him. He thought the guilt would slowly fade away as time passed, but it didn't especially after he saw her one night, shivering in fright, her expression, panic stricken as she embraced him.

Shinichi knew about her fears and he had fears of his own as well. It was the reason why he agreed to their arrangement, why he promised that for the second time around, there would be no secrets between them. It wasn't just a matter of trust. It was more of a safety precaution for both of them especially after the trauma that the case caused.

He confidently thought he could easily comply to it, but there was one night that he wasn't able to and it resulted to triggering her trauma, driving her to run miles away from home to his house to check on him, just to check if he was safe, if he was still alive.

So once again, Shinichi hated himself. He promised he wouldn't make her cry anymore. He told himself that he would make it up to her, that he would protect her this time, in his second life, their second life together but he failed again.

Still, despite all that she forgave him endlessly. So, he worked hard to prove and make sure that forgiving him was not a pointless decision for her, that he really did deserve it, that he deserved her…

Needless to say, he worked too hard that slowly he began to lose himself for her even when she didn't ask him to…

He never noticed it until then.

It happened after soccer practice, just about a few weeks since he decided to come back to the team to help them win the interschool soccer tournament.

It was a simple prank, done by his teammates. But he was not having any of it. It was a serious matter to him but they did not understand how such simple joke could easily tick him off.

"Give me back my phone." Shinichi demanded in a calm but serious manner when he found his phone missing from his gym bag. Being a detective, and knowing his peers so well, he didn't need any evidence other than commonsense to deduce that they were on to something. He had his hands inside the pocket of his shorts as he stood casually and hid his hands balling into fists so hard that his nails created crescents on his palms.

"Come on, Kudo. We didn't take your phone!" A group of boys his age teased, snickering with obvious intent as they sat on the bench of the boys' locker room.

"I'm not playing around with you guys. Give me back my phone." Shinichi repeated in a serious tone but the boys all laughed.

"Jeez, Kudo. Get a grip will you!" One of his teammates that had 'Akamine' written on his jersey said as he took a red phone from his gym bag ready to hand it over to Shinichi who reaches for it with an annoyed look on his face.

Just then, his phone started to ring. Ran's name and picture flashed on the screen. Shinichi's phone is snatched away once again before he could even get it back from Akamine.

"Ah, Mouri-chan's on time as always! As usual, the missus never misses." Akamine commented jokingly. Shinichi growled in frustration as he lunged after Akamine to reach for his phone but his teammate tossed it to another.

"Oi! Akamine! Give it back! I have to take the call." Shinichi shouted but the guys just kept on playing pranks on him.

"Why do you look so scared, Kudo? Are you afraid she'll kick you in the ass, thinking you're cheating on her because you missed her calls?" Akamine teased, triggering Shinichi's anger even more.

"Damn, Kudo. You really are whipped! Looks like your girl is THAT possessive…" One of his teammates commented. "Jeez. Women. This is why I'm not getting a girl friend."

Ran's worried face flashed before Shinichi's eyes. Suddenly it was all he could think about. His pulse beat harder against his ears, muting the sound of his teammates' boisterous laughter. And then, Shinichi lost it.

Shinichi punched Akamine in the face.

The laughing abruptly stopped. The ringing in his ears faded but his phone's ringing does not.

"What the fuck's wrong with you?" Akamine cursed. Shinichi angrily pulled him by the collar, and pushed him to the lockers with immense strength. He raised another arm, ready give the guy another punch in the face when his team mates interfered.

"Kudo! We were just joking around!" One of them said.

"Look, we're sorry okay?" Another apologized, bringing him his phone.

Shinichi let out a huff of breath, calming his nerves. His grip on Akamine gradually loosened. This time, it was Akamine who was furious.

"I asked nicely." Shinichi explained as he took his phone, gripping it tightly on his hand and lifted his gym bag with the other.

"Coach is gonna suspend you from the team." Akamine warned threateningly.

"I don't care." Shinichi answered with a deadpanned expression as he proceeded to leave. "I quit."

With that, he walked out of the locker room, leaving his teammates shocked.

Shinichi sped up to the hallway with his ringing phone. He took a few breaths to calm himself down so that Ran wouldn't suspect anything.

"Hey, Ran. I'm sorry it took a while for me to answer…" He apologized as soon as he answered the phone.

"Gomene. Are you still at practice? I just called to tell you that mine just ended." Ran replied with a sweet tone. Shinichi suddenly felt his anger subside. He smiled to himself upon hearing the sound of her voice.

"It's okay. Our practice just ended as well. I'm on my way to meet you…" He said, making his way to the school gym where Ran and her team usually held their matches.

Osaka,Tuesday, 8am

Ran is up very early despite barely getting any sleep last night. She sits by the vanity mirror of the hotel room which she shares with Sonoko and Sera. Sonoko stirs in her sleep while Sera continues to snore.

Ran quietly does her morning skincare routine in her bathrobe, her wet hair still in a towel since she just got out of the shower. She starts to put on a little bit of concealer under her eyes to hide the little bit of bags she gained under her eyes for staying up late last night, over thinking. Sonoko sits up to watch her, yawning loudly as she stretches her arms.

"Ah, look at you being all excited to see the ex-husband…" Sonoko teases. Ran's face immediately heats up in embarrassment.

"Sonoko!" Ran whines as she puts on a little powder to set her face, then a little bit of blush to add color to her cheeks and then some mascara on her eyelashes which were already so long. Sonoko hops off of her bed to approach her friend. She grabs a chair so she could sit next to Ran in front of the vanity. Ran consciously reaches for a lipstick in her makeup bag. She looks at Sonoko who still has her eyes on her. Ran feels shy. She always gets nervous when people watch her get ready.

"Not that." Sonoko says as Ran uncaps a red-orange lipstick. "Use the nude one. It's better with your all-natural kind of look."

Ran nods and reaches for a different lipstick. She uncaps it and applies it delicately over her lips. She purses her lips together to even the color out.

"Perfect." Sonoko comments while holding her two thumbs up. "You already picked an outfit?"

"Yeah." Ran replies taking a loose, fluffy hoodie and denim shorts from her luggage. Sonoko shakes her head disapprovingly.

"No way you're gonna see him in that." Sonoko says. Ran's eyes widen.

"Why not? It's cute and besides, I'm not trying to impress him or anything. Also, it's just the airport so I should just look casual." Ran explains defensively. Sonoko rolls her eyes.

"Yeah right. You're seeing your ex okay? Put on something nicer. Still casual but show stopping, you know what I mean?" Sonoko proceeds to rummage through Ran's luggage. Ran observes curiously, cocking her head to the side. It takes only a few seconds for Sonoko to fix up a good fashion combo for her. She hands her a mustard yellow crop top and dark skinny jeans.

"You look hot in this. Put this on."Sonoko commands her. Ran looks at the outfit hesitantly. "Just do it! It accentuates your boobs and your fine ass."

"Sonoko! It's too revealing!" Ran whines.

"So what? You got some goods to show. Flaunt it!" Sonoko encourages, pushing her to the bathroom to change. "Just shut up put it on!"

Ran is left with no choice but to obey her friend. So she changes into Sonoko's recommendation outfit. In a few seconds she is out and ready. Sonoko squeals in delight upon seeing her come out of the bathroom in the crop top and skinny jeans.

Indeed, Sonoko knows best. Ran clearly looks so fine in the outfit for it hugged her curves pretty well.

"Okay, it's still very early. We have time to do your hair!" Sonoko exclaims, pulling Ran back to the chair by the vanity. She unveils Ran's wet hair and grabs a hair blower and a hair iron. She plugs the hair blower and starts to dry Ran's damp hair with it.

Ran sits in a very well-behaved manner. Sonoko meets her eyes in the mirror, smiling at her friend who returns her smile with a soft, nervous one.

"By the time we're done, you're gonna totally knock Shinichi's socks off." Sonoko comments. Ran rolls her eyes and laughs. "You know, I'm honestly kind of still opposed to this whole Shinichi thing."

Ran looks at Sonoko questioningly through the mirror.

"You're the one who suggested this whole Shinichi thing. Besides, we're only friends now, Sonoko…" Ran clarifies with a hint of defensiveness that Sonoko takes note of.

"Yeah right. Friends who are to awkward to hit each other up after a break up." Sonoko slams her. Ran stays quiet, clearly affected by Sonoko's response. "I honestly think you could do better though. Clearly, there are a lot more guys better for you than that nerd. I don't know what you see in him. He's Shinichi. But anyway, it's obvious that you're crazy about him, still are and always have been. It's like he's your measure of standard for guys or something. It's weird but I guess that's love…"

Ran wants to deny what Sonoko had just said. But she knows there is no point in it. Her best friend could read her easily. They've known each other all their lives.

"Well, it's different with him. He was a big part of my life. He was my friend first before he became my first love…" Ran says fondly. Sonoko furrows her eyebrows, thinking hard as she continues to do Ran's hair.

"Until now, I still don't get why you guys had to break up. You guys were supposed to be end game." Sonoko comments with a disappointed sigh.

"We had to grow at some point…" Ran replies with a sad smile on her face, reminiscing a lonely memory in her head that she never forgot so easily. "Even if it meant that we had to do it separately…"

Tokyo, Ten Years Ago

Ran wasn't the type to eavesdrop but the mention of her boyfriend's name in some strangers' conversation intrigued her. She stood by the lockers and she was just packing up when she heard the sound of two girls' voices echoing through the almost empty and very spacious girls' locker and shower room.

She noted that they were members of the cheerleading squad of Teitan High, given that they were talking about dance routines and of the upcoming cheering performance they'd have to do on the Japan Interschool Soccer Tournament.

And soon enough, her boyfriend's name was brought into their little conversation.

"Ugh. What's the point in cheering if we're not gonna win anyway?" One of the girls said. She had a shrilly, whiny voice that sounded quite annoying.

"Don't say that!" Another hushed. Compared to the first girl, her voice was less shrilly and sounded more mature. "The soccer team is working really hard despite Kudo-sempai's absence."

Ran's ears perked up at the sudden statement.

'Shinichi? But didn't he just got back on the team?' She thought to herself, confused.

"Why did Kudo-sempai have to withdraw from the team anyway? Is it because of his detective duties again? Guess he's really that big in the industry now huh?" Shrilly asked.

"I guess. But from what I've heard it's not about that this time." Less-shrilly replied. "Rumour has it, it was because of his girlfriend!"

"Mouri-sempai? No way!" Shrilly let out a loud gasp. Ran found herself doing the same thing. Suddenly, she is even more interested to listen. She was confused especially when she had no idea at all about Shinichi's withdrawal from the team.

"I don't know much but some are saying she's pretty possessive." Less shrilly commented. "Not so surprised. She has the vibe."

Ran clenched her fists furiously. She had the sudden urge to smash a locker into a reduced tin can.

"Well, you can't blame her though. With Kudo-sempai walking around looking like a snack, you'd definitely build fences around him if you were his girlfriend." Shrilly giggled. Ran rolled her eyes as she took out more things from her locker, resisting the urge to slam it very loudly.

"True, but there should be a certain limit to it. At this rate, she's just being a hindrance to him." Less-shrilly said. "If you ask me, Kudo-sempai should be with someone up his ally. He's practically a celebrity now but he's going low-key just because he doesn't want to leave Mouri-sempai in the dark. Let's face it, she's too… ordinary..."

"Wow. You're too harsh." Shrilly hissed.

"Just pure facts, darling. The syndicate case should be a good example. Kudo-sempai spearheaded the capture of the members and Mouri-sempai? Wasn't she just a mere casualty?"

The girls were completely irrelevant to Ran but their words pierced through her heart like knives. She wasn't able to notice the tears that fell down from her eyes as she was listening. She sniffled a sob as she closed the door of her locker, in a surprisingly quiet way. She holds on to it for support as she felt her knees going weak. She covered her mouth to avoid making any noise as she cried.

She didn't want to back down on the judgmental girls and become the loser but for some reason, they seemed so spot-on right.

Everything came back to Ran in an instant.

She remembered how back in middle school, Shinichi was supposed to fly to Los Angeles with his parents but he didn't because he couldn't leave her. Then when he got involved in the Black Organization case, he didn't tell her about the situation because he didn't want to get her in danger. And even then, despite going through so much trouble already, he still found a way to protect her. He became Conan for her in Shinichi's absence…

And lately, he had been ditching cases ever since her embarrassing, outburst. She didn't give it much point but since it has finally come to light, she finally realized that all the phone calls he claimed to be "not important" were probably from Megure-keibu but because he wanted to be with her and he didn't want her to worry, he'd immediately shut them all off for her.

So stupidly she believed in his words not because she trusted them to be true but because it gave her relief. Because it saved her from worrying. But clearly, he was giving up a lot of things of her and he was willing to do so even if it meant giving up his own passion just so he could be with her…

Then it hit her. Shinichi always came through for her. He'd always tell her how selfless and kind she was to forgive him after everything he has done. But the truth is, what she did was probably nothing compared to everything that he has done for her.

So, maybe they were right after all. Maybe she didn't deserve him. Maybe he was better off with someone else…

Tokyo, Tuesday, 11am

Shinichi is on board another plane, riding a connecting flight from Tokyo to Osaka after a fourteen-hour flight from New York. But unlike on the previous flight where he completely dosed off, he is wide awake on this one. His neck, aching from the long flight and how he positioned his head when he slept a while ago.

'Only one hour…' He thinks to himself. His palms start to sweat as he feels both excitement and nervousness rush through his veins.

He assumes the possibility that she could have already been there. Knowing Ran, and judging by her comment on the proposal announcement last time, he suspects that she could have already booked an early flight. Besides, she is the maid of honor and it is expected that she is to help Kazuha with the last-minute preparations. Also taking in consideration that Ran is supposed to plan the bride's bachelorette party the same way he is expected to plan the groom's since he is the best man.

So, he makes a bet with himself, that there is a 90 percent chance that Ran's already in Osaka most likely with Sonoko and Sera since they are all-out supportive friends. But he wonders, would she be with Hattori at the airport? He shakes his head no.

There's no way. It would probably be too awkward.

Tokyo, Ten Years Ago

Shinichi is taken aback by the sudden confrontation. He was shocked when Ran dragged him all the way to a particular bench in their school yard to talk privately. She wasn't mad but she did bombard him with questions about his sudden withdrawal from Teitan High's soccer team. Shinichi never planned to hide it from her. He was merely looking for the perfect timing to do so. But alas, rumors about him spread easily like wild fire and though Shinichi never really cared to explain himself to others, he knew it is his responsibility to clarify things with her.

What surprised Shinichi more is that the sudden news affected Ran in more ways than he could ever think of suddenly, it wasn't just about soccer anymore. It was…

Everything.

"Why are you doing this?" She asked, tears started to brim at the corner of her eyes. Shinichi cupped Ran's face in his hands. He looked at her earnestly. He only had one answer in his head.

"Because I love you and I promised to make it up to you, didn't I?" He said sincerely. She shook her head furiously.

"At what expense? You're giving up so much for me…" She sobbed. "You're losing yourself because of me."

Shinichi shook his head in denial. He was stunned. He never knew she had such thoughts in her head. Of course, that wasn't the case. Not to him.

"I just don't want to be the reason for these tears, Ran." He spoke, lifting his hand to wipe away her tears.

"And I don't want to be the reason why you're holding back from doing the things you love…" She said as she looked into his cerulean eyes that she loved so much. "Shinichi, you know it too right? You and I, we both haven't healed since…"

She took his hand in hers and held it tightly as he stared at her with so much sadness in his eyes. He knew what was bound to happen he saw it in her eyes, he felt it when she held him.

"We can't be this broken together…" She said. "We have to heal on our own terms. Separately."

Shinichi wasn't able to speak. He let out a deep breath and looked down. Suddenly his throat went dry. He didn't want it to end in such way but he knew she was right. They would only keep on hurting each other. And as much as he hated it, as much as his heart broke at the thought, his mind told him that it was the right thing to do.

"Is this what you really want?" He asked giving her another chance to take it back even when he knew very well that she wouldn't. She was a woman of word.

"It's not about what we want. It's about what we both need." She replied, letting go of his hands. Shinichi suddenly felt a melancholic coldness surround him at the absence of her touch.

"I just can't believe this is happening…" He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, restraining himself as soon as he felt his face heat up and his eyes becoming heavy with the threat of tears forming. His heart broke and he felt it in his chest. He looked up, to avoid the tears from falling. He wasn't the type to cry and he is not bound to do it in front of her. "I just love you so much, you know…"

He reached up to cup her face. He savored the moment, knowing that it probably would be the last time.

"And I love you too." She said, fighting the urge to cry again. "I'm sorry…"

"I'm sorry too." He told her, pulling her for one last embrace.

Osaka,Tuesday, 12nn

Shinichi is walking through Kansai International Airport while pushing his luggage cart. His feet are still heavy and his neck still hurt from the long flight. He whips his phone out of his pocket to send Hattori a message but it starts ringing. Heiji's name flashes on his screen and he answers immediately.

"Oi, Hattori! I'm here." Shinichi says upon answering.

"And I'm not." Heiji says chuckling nervously. Shinichi's eyebrows furrow in confusion. "I can't make it today, groom duties."

"What?" Shinichi asks, his tone raises in slight frustration but he doesn't get mad because he understands. He just wasn't expecting Hattori to bail on him.

"But doncha' worry. I sent a proxy. I'm betting 100 percent that you'll be more thrilled to see her than me." Heiji snickers over the phone.

"What?" Shinichi asks again as he continues to walk by the arrivals area in search of Hattori, thinking he's merely playing jokes on him.

"Well, gotta go! Bye!" Heiji responds, hanging up. Shinichi is even more confused than he was earilier.

"Oi, Hattori-

He is cut off by the beeping sound on his phone. His eyes search the sea of fetchers in the area until he sees a familiar face among them.

His eyes meet hers for the first time in ten years. She smiles at him and he stops on his tracks, suddenly his feet feels heavier than it did when he got out of the plane.

Tokyo, Ten Years Ago

He dropped all of his bags to give her a proper hug. He held her tightly in his arms, drowning himself in her soft scent that he loved so much. For a moment, he didn't care if it was not proper for him to hold her in such way. So what if she isn't his anymore?

"You take care there okay?" She breathed against his ear as she ran her delicate fingers through his hair.

"You too." He responded as he ran his hand down her back, stroking it comfortingly. Such touch sent shivers running down her spine.

He soon pulled away after a few seconds. The coldness in the air surrounded him upon the absence of her warmth.

"So I guess this is it… LA, huh?" He said, casually putting his hands in his pockets.

"You'll do great." She assured him with a sincere smile. Her eyes shined, almost like she was bound to cry but she doesn't.

"Well, I'm going now… You'll be okay?" He asked, concerned and hopelessly wishing she'd stop him but she gave him a nod instead.

"Have a safe trip." She said, watching him with a heavy heart as he took his bags.

"Good bye, Ran."

"Good bye, Shinichi."

He lingered for a moment, staring at her amethyst orbs, her beautiful face, memorizing her every feature, taking it all in so that it would remain tattooed in his memory. Unknown to him, she did the same, looking at his gorgeous pair of sapphires and his sharp features. Suddenly she felt an urge to cry, but she held it in.

I don't want to be the reason for your tears…

His words rang in her ears.

And then it was time to leave.

I don't want to be the reason why you're holding back.

He kept her words in his head. He gave her one last smile which she returned and then he turned away, walking further and further until he disappeared from her sight.

And when he was gone, she broke down and cry in the middle of the airport for everyone to see.

Unknown to her, he did the same, but on the plane by the window.

Osaka,Tuesday, 12nn

Shinichi remains frozen in his state. He doesn't know how to approach her but his heart is filled with so much happiness. Suddenly it is like he is seventeen again.

"Welcome back, Shinichi…" She says, making him snap out of his thoughts, bringing him back to Earth with the sound of her voice, saying his name as she approaches him. He looks at her beautiful presence. She looks a little bit more mature than the last time he saw her. Her curves are now more defined as clearly shown in her tight outfit of crop top and skinny jeans. She is wearing light make up that accentuates her already beautiful features.

He wonders if she is doing it on purpose but he shrugs the thought away so quickly. He realizes that he probably looks like crap standing next to her. He gives himself a mental kick on the ass. Suddenly he regrets not wearing something better than his plain shirt and jacket. He wishes he took the time to brush his hair since it is sticking in different directions, not to mention that his cowlick is up and unrulier than ever.

But unknown to him, she is secretly admiring his presence as well. She notices his defined, sharper features. He is taller now than when she last saw him. She notes that she looks smaller in her sneakers, standing next to his tall frame, not to mention that his built is now more toned than before. He looks manlier now, with his sharper jawline but his awkward smile made him look more boyish, as though his seventeen-year-old self is peaking through beneath his matured look.

"It's great to be back." He says. They maintain a distance of a meter between each other. "It's nice to see you again, Ran…"

He awkwardly spreads his arms and motions closer to her. It doesn't take too much for her to understand that he is approaching her for a hug. She doesn't deprive him. She meets his distance and wraps her arms around him. Goosebumps creep to his skin as she rests her head on his chest while he leans close to her shoulder. They both drown themselves on each other's scent. She feels him wrap his arms around her waist. His skin brushes against her skin exposed by the crop top. Shivers run through her spine. Even after ten years, the warmth still feels so familiar.

It is hard for them to pull away.

AN: So here it is! I hope y'all like it. It turned out to be a pretty long chapter. I hope I covered everything regarding the break up. If you guys still have questions, feel free to approach me. I don't bite. LOL. This will most likely be the last chapter with inter-cutting scenes since Shinichi is now back in Japan. Yey! Wasn't expecting this to take long to write, but I found it difficult to write the break up scene, tbh. Hope it wasn't OOC.

Anyway, tell me what you guys think. I'll try to update faster but I will most likely update once a week depending on my work schedule and on how long the chapter will take. My goal is to give two updates a week but I'm thinking that's gonna be too far-fetched for me. But we'll see. ;)

~J

Fanfiction.net link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13195514/2/The-Same-Old-You AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17626277/chapters/41749793

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