#and it's already sad enough to have no way to indicate that socks are girls. give me something

[hedgehog-moss]

One mistake I made a lot when I started learning English was writing both the auxiliary and the main verb in past tense—as in, "Did the rain stopped?" My English teacher had to really drill this grammar point into my head, she was like "the point of 'did' here is to indicate past tense, there's no need for another time marker." Me, genuinely baffled: "Why not?" Teacher: "Think of the 'ed' in 'stopped' as having migrated to the beginning of the sentence and become 'did'. So it's no longer in 'stopped'." Well I was sad to see it go. I pointed out that in French you'd say "The rain (itself) has it stopped?" and 'the rain' feels welcome to stay even though the whole point of the pronoun 'it' should be to replace it in a quicker way. But it would be sad if the noun & its pronoun never got to hang out together so we keep both <3

My teacher had a British look on her face that made my middle-school self wonder if maybe she thought my language wasn't optimally designed, and then she said that in English it would feel clunky to give the same piece of grammatical information twice, and "if you use 'did' then the -ed in 'stopped' doesn't add anything." That just sounded offensive, I mean since when do letters need to add something to a sentence? isn't it enough that they adorn the end of words & frolic with the others in friendship. If it bothers you so much just don't pronounce them. Idk, "did the rain stopped" felt so right to me. In the end my teacher said that "The rain has it stopped?" with the redundant pronoun is the more formal French phrasing anyway, and I was like yeah true we'd rather say "is it that it (itself) has stopped to rain?" and I felt like this really proved my point and I think she felt the same way

#i did the same thing with adjectives... eg my purples socks are warm #i know i know purple doesn't need an -s because socks already has one so it doesn't add any information :( #look i already managed to steel myself and not write ''are warms'' as would feel right #and it's already sad enough to have no way to indicate that socks are girls. give me something #spanish is even worse than english in terms of grammatical emphasis in some ways. it will give you nothing #spanish is like oh my god you don't need a noun NOR pronoun don't act like you can't remember who we were talking about just 1 sentence ago #in spanish the noun and its pronoun get to hang out together on the astral plane they just don't have a lot of work to do

[redsbrainrot]

Gruvia Week Day 6 - Agony

warning: mentions of blood

_ _ _

"Juvia, what're you doing up again?" 

03:30 in the morning, Gray caught his wife of six months pondering around the kitchen, dressed in his shirt and nothing underneath it, other than silky underwear and knee-high, odd, socks covering her porcelain legs. Her hair had been in the same messy ponytail for the past two days; bumpy and greasy. She hadn't showered in almost a week. 

She glances up at her Gray-sama, the portrayal on her face remains bleak as she blankly shrugs, "Can't sleep." 

"Again?" 

It'd been five days. Five days since the agonising, tragic loss she never even dreamed of having the trauma of going through. Awakening one day to buckets of rain dripping down the window, stomach cramps the same pain rate as being stabbed by a steak knife, and later that day her sheets are stained with blood dripping between her legs, followed by screams so harsh she'd lost her voice. 

Juvia shakes her head at Gray's questioning, breaking the simple eye contact and continuing to circle around the central counter. 

Gray forces her aimless pondering to stop as he takes her hand. Her eyes dart from the light grip on her hand to his eyes, hers narrowing in annoyance. 

Gray couldn't bare it. Juvia never looked at him with such hatred. She can't control the way she's feeling right now, and he's aware that anything she may spit at him won't be from her heart. It's not her, he had to remind himself. She's suffered a loss, and he has too. Her end is only much, much more painful, as she was the one who had to experience losing her unborn child. 

The two hadn't been married for long, and after Juvia discovers she's pregnant only five months into their marriage, she was delighted with excitement anyway. They never discussed exactly when kids could go on the table, yet the surprise out of nowhere was bliss. 

Juvia would go day and night protesting she needed solitude, and begged him to take a job request. On the verge of accepting, he changed his mind in an instant and stayed for her. Gray couldn't control his thoughts and his worst fear was that Juvia may do something stupid to hurt herself. 

She snatches her hand out of his grip, turning away and continuing to dawdle, "Juvia, can you come back to bed?" She shakes her head, "Please?" Another objection as Gray follows her circular path. 

"Can you take a shower then? I think it'll do you good." 

Her head shakes roughly this time, and Gray manages to catch a brief sound of sniffling, her feet remaining fixed on the floor. 

"Bath?" Gray suggests, keeping his distance in case she slaps away his touch once more, "It'll make you sleepy." 

With a release of an exhausted sigh, she agrees. "Fine." Juvia's never so blunt in her words. 

"I'll run it," He leaps in front of her before she can enter their bedroom, "Lie down for a minute, okay?" 

Juvia obliges, carefully placing herself on the edge of the mattress, not lying down, instead slouched in her seat, her fingers fiddling and pulling with the ends of her socks. Anything for a distraction. 

Gray was still in surprise of how the girl hadn't yet fainted. She'd lacked in both sleep, and eating. Truthfully, he can't remember the last time he saw something enter her system. She hadn't dropped by the guild since before the incident, refused to allow people inside the apartment, including Gajeel, and had stop using the terms "Gray-sama", when referring to her beloved husband. Gray may have found it irritating way back in the day, but now it's just not the same. He can't stand watching her suffer. What struck him down most is that he may have been trying his best to make life easier for her, however nothing was helping. 

The only other person aware of their current situation was Erza. She advised Gray he just needed to give her time, she'll come around eventually. Her biggest concern was Gray's wellbeing. He's gone through hell, and this time instead of moping around, complaining about life and frankly wishing he wasn't around anymore, he wasn't letting himself cry it out. He desperately wanted Juvia to at least smile. Her smile is what keeps him going. Without it, what's the point? 

Honestly, all Gray needed right now was to weep his depressive thoughts into someone's chest. Only this time, he can't to Juvia. She's already killing herself with guilt. 

Juvia dismally thanks Gray for running her bath as she enters the bathroom, her shirt already undone and the shoulders draping down her arms. Gray choses to leave her in peace, about to open the door and wait eyes open in their bed for her. Until Juvia latches her hand onto his, tugging him back inside. "Can you stay in here with me?" 

Juvia swirls her hand around the decently heated water, while the other is in Gray's hand as he is sat on the floor next to the tub. Her hold was weak, but at least the two were touching each other, even if it was only a hand hold. 

Neither of them spoke. Sitting in silence with each other was enough for now. 

"I'm really sorry." Juvia startles Gray as her voice cracks, breaking the silence.

"For what?" 

"The past few days," Her hand swirling ends, looking up with her watering eyes into Gray's, "I've been really cold to you. I'm not making this any easier."

"Nothing about this is easy, Juvia," If anything, Gray's wishes were the opposite of her sincere, unneeded and unwanted apologies, "You don't have to apologise. You don't need to," He lifts his hand from hers, brushing it down her dampened hair, caressing her cherubic cheeks, "It's only your way of coping. I know you don't mean anything you say." 

Juvia appreciates nothing more than her darling's kind words. Even though no smile was emitted, he knew she took his words to heart as her hand placed on top of his, turning her face slightly and planting her lips on the corner of his palm.

Unfortunately, his light touches and sweet words weren't enough for her to keep back a gush of tears. Her gloomful teardrops splatter into his hand, whimpers and sniffles following. 

_ _ _

Juvia pleaded Gray to leave her in peace in the lukewarm bathtub after her flood of tears had escaped. Gray was unsure of what to say. All she needed from him was brief contact, and of course an immediate change of heart occurred as her drops of sadness had faded. 

Gray left behind another one of his shirts and some clean underwear for Juvia. He refused to acknowledge his exhaustion and remained awake while patiently awaiting Juvia's return to their bedroom. 

Almost 04:30, Gray peeps up at the door as it creaks open. Juvia tiresomely walks through, the drips in her wet hair seeping through her braids, and the buttons on her shirt done up in the wrong order. It didn't bother her, though. She probably didn't even notice. 

Gray opens up the covers for her side, the eye contact absent as she crawls in beside him, switching off the lamp as she does so. 

Juvia lays on her side, facing Gray yet not exchanging any form of contact with him. Gray desperately wanted to pull her close to him, cuddle in their sleep and once again be comfortable with one another. She craved the space, though. 

"Juvia," He breathes, trailing his hand towards hers, implying a moment of contact, which thankfully she agrees to, "I hate seeing you beat yourself up." 

Silence. 

"Tomorrow will you at least go outside? Even if it's only a small walk." 

Her grip in his hand loosens, thinking it over. "I don't know..." 

After picturing the absolute elation portrayed on her face, spectating her suffering was agonising for him. 

At first, she was panicky, anxious and frightened of what Gray would think of her pregnancy. On the outside, she remained mature and adult-like, keeping the situation and her emotions under control. 

"Gray-sama?" Juvia starts as she's sat on the bathroom counter, Gray opposite and leant on the wall with his arms folded, "What if it really is positive? What will we do?" 

Juvia had been concerned whether she was pregnant or not for about four days. She first noticed her period was late, but that had happened before. Her cycle was up and down, so the notice in change wasn't a first sign of pregnancy. 

"What do you want?" Gray wasn't sure at this point. 

Gray was the one who proposed taking a pregnancy test just to make sure, as much as Juvia objected that she couldn't possibly be. 

"Well, would Gray-sama mind if Juvia is pregnant? Would it bother you?" 

Gray's response is quick with a head shake, "To be honest, no." Juvia peers up with her teeth nibbling her lip, "My main concern if you, Juvia. If you don't want to have a baby right now, that's your choice. This isn't really mine to make." Gray's tone had always been bland and he's a closed book, making their moment difficult for Juvia. 

"I want your opinion, Gray-sama." 

He tilts his head for a moment, what did he really think about this? 

"I..." Gray questioned his possible skills as a father, already wondering whether he made a good husband before hand, "We've been married for almost six months, and these months have been the best of my life. I like having fun with you, when it's just the two of us. I know you want kids at some point, and so do I. So... if you wanna have a baby now, I'd be happy with it." 

Juvia profoundly smiles at his honesty. She'd enjoyed her relationship with Gray-sama before they were even in one. She's loved him for years, and being pregnant with his baby would make her happier than ever. Even if it's sooner than she thought it'd happen. 

She realises the timer had ended, and takes the test behind her, hovering her thumb over the result before taking a look. Gray steps closer, grabbing her hand while staring down at the test. Trembling, she slips her thumb aside to see two red lines, indicating a positive test. 

"Juvia, I'm back." Gray announces himself as he enters their apartment.

As he closes the door, he quickly takes note how it's suddenly began to pour rain from outside. The windows are drowning in the water, and only a moment ago the sun was out. He hadn't seen rain like this in god knows how long. 

"Juvia?" He calls again, after no response. 

After searching the kitchen and living room, he heads to their bedroom. He opens the door to notice ruffled sheets, and towards the edge of the bed, a puddle of red was sinking into the mattress. 

Gray catches the sounds of whimpers coming from the bathroom. Struck with confusion, he storms inside and witnesses his wife on the dark towel covering the tiled floor, dressed in one of his shirts. For support, her arms depended on the edge of the bathtub, while her face dug into her arm, soaking with tears. 

Gray drops to the floor, gently shaking her arm in attempt to get words out of her. She refuses, shaking her head over and over again as her whimpers become cries of distraught. Finally, Gray notices a gush of blood between her legs. 

#gruvia week #gruvia week 2021 #fairy tail #gray fullbuster #juvia lockser #writing #gruvia angst

[nanamikeento]

or'trikar

Pairing: The Mandalorian x female!reader

Summary: Your life turns upside down after you and Din give the Child back to his people.

a/n: i blame @goldafterglow for this, she wanted to suffer!!!! anyway, this is part of the redamancy series universe and it’s sad. i’m sorry. enjoy!!

warning: angst, mention of infertility, some fluff cause it’s stronger than me

word count: 2.9k

redamancy | masterlist

The loud noise from the cantina makes you frown. The dizziness starts to get to you, your drunken state taking over your mind. You kinda wish you were alone, but, at the same time, you don't want to be alone. Maybe you shouldn't have snapped and yelled at your spouse, but you really needed a drink. Like, desperately.

Poor Din. All he wanted was to help you. Which is why he brought you to Naboo, the planet that you both spent your honeymoon at. A quarry led you both to the beautiful planet, and he thought you could use a break. You deserved a time just with him, like before.

But, of course, things didn't go as planned. The bounty escaped easily and you snapped at him, telling him you were right and that he should have listened to you. You had stormed out and found the nearest cantina to get shitfaced and forget about your problems. Forget about the sadness that takes over you all the time, every day since the worst day of your life.

Din knows you’re mourning. He knows you need to take your time, process the emotions you’re feeling. And he respects you, he really does. He understands when you snap and yell at him. But, sometimes, he wants to hug you and comfort you in his own way. If only you let him hold you for a moment… 

When he enters the cantina, too many eyes stare at him. The place is full of people, humans, and other species too, as he walks among them, scanning the place and looking for you. It’s the third establishment he enters looking for you tonight. You’re not answering the comlink and he doesn’t want to wait in the Crest, worried sick.

Din gets a glimpse of your hair color as he scans the place through the visor of his helmet and cranes his neck to get a better view of the back of the pub. You're sitting across a yellow-skinned Twi'lek, having a drinking contest. The lazy smile on your face indicates you're winning, but Din's heart clenches at the sight. He knows you're not okay, he can see it a mile away.

The Mandalorian makes a beeline to you, pushing past people and bystanders watching the contest. Whispers and murmurs echo the place as he stops right beside you. Ignoring his presence, you down another shot and slam the glass on the table. The Twi’lek looks between you and Din, a scared look on his face.

“What?” You ask, a lazy smile on your face. “Can’t handle any–”

“Are you done?” Din’s voice is firm, as he interrupts you. 

“No,” You answer, finally looking at him. Noticing his hands closing into fists, you assume he’s mad with you. However, you don’t feel guilty, the alcohol fogging your mind enough for you to ignore your moral compass. “We’re having fun!”

“I think you’ve had enough.” He moves to grab your upper arm and haul you out of your seat.

“Hey!” You protest, but he’s already taking you out of the bar. “I’m just having fun!”

“Yeah, right.”

The hastiness of his movements as he drags you out of the cantina makes your stomach churn. Salivating, you try to swallow but you know what’s coming.

“I’m going to throw up,” You warn him and Din immediately pulls you aside, to the patch of grass behind the place. Your knees hit the wet grass as you let out everything you drank during the night. Din holds your hair, patiently waiting for you to get better. It’s not the first time he sees you like this, but this is different somehow. This comes from a place of hurt and sadness and agony. This is you trying to bury down your feelings, trying to get over them by yourself. It breaks his heart to see you like this. “Fuck.” You try to hold on the tears as your head spins and you swallow hard, tasting the bile and wincing.

“You okay, baby?” His voice is gentle as he asks. Ever the gentle one in the relationship, even though he’s rougher at his job than you. It’s so unfair how patient he is with you, how he easily puts up with you and your slip ups.

The sob that escapes your throat is quiet, but loud enough for him to hear it. Shaking your head, you sniffle and quickly wipe the tears that start falling from your eyes. Din brushes a hand on your hair, tucking it behind your ear; his gloved hand lays gently on the back of your neck as he gives you space to cry.

“Jus- Just take me home,” You whimper, sobbing, unable to meet his eyes with yours. He doesn’t say a word as he helps you stand and walks you back to the Razor Crest.

The inside of the ship is cold as you enter and walk straight to the ladder that leads to the cockpit and your shared quarters. You hear Din closing the hatch and activating ground security protocol as you try to climb the ladder; your foot falters once and, in a second, he’s right below, ready to catch you if you fall. But, even in your altered state, you manage to climb the rest up and head for your quarters, where you try to undress.

“Here, let me help,” Din’s modulated voice startles you a bit as he enters the quarters and approaches you.

"I got it," You mumble, trying to unlace and remove your boots. But your arms are like jelly and moving around is hard when all you want to do is lie down and sleep.

"It's okay, I insist." He gently puts his hands on your shoulders and pushes you to sit down on the bed.

Din removes your boots with no difficulty, moving on to the holsters on your thigh and waist. He helps you take off your shirt and change to a more comfortable one to sleep; pulling out your trousers and socks right after.

"Din?" Your voice is small, just a whisper in the dim light of the quarters.

"Yes?" He's putting a pair of wool socks on your feet as he answers.

"Why are you so patient with me?"

When he looks at you, he sees the tears cutting through your cheeks. He hasn't taken the helmet off yet, but you can feel his eyes staring intensely at you. A low, modulated, laugh leaves his lips and he shrugs a bit.

"Because I love you." Is his answer. Simple.

"Yeah, but why? How do you put up with me?"

He pauses, tilting his helmet.

"I don't put up with you, cyar'ika." He moves to take his gloves off and lays a warm palm on your thigh. "You're my riduur. We are one even in the worst times. You're not a burden to be putting up, you're the love of my life."

A soft sob escapes your throat and Din cups you cheek, wiping the tears off with his thumb.

"I-I miss him, Din." You choke, grabbing his wrist hard, silently begging him to not let go.

"I know you do, sweetheart." His voice is soft, so soft that you can't help but break down.

Din moves from his kneeled position and reaches up to take off the helmet, planting a kiss on your forehead as soon as he can. His lips are warm and soft as he gives you one more salty kiss on your cheek, his hand gently holding your chin up.

"Lie down," He whispers in your ear. "I'll be with you in a second."

You can't help but oblige, your head hitting the soft pillow as you cry in silence. You hear Din removing his armor as you lie on your side, back turned to him. There's nothing you want more than to feel your riduur's arms around you, but you fall asleep before he lies next to you.

…

Din opens his eyes and the first thing he sees is your profile, staring at the ceiling. You're still, your husband's protective hand still laying flat on your stomach. He frowns when he sees you, wondering if it's already morning. “Sweetheart?" He croaks. You hum an answer, without taking your eyes off the ceiling. "Are you okay?"

You slowly roll your head to meet his eyes, where you see concern in them. Beautiful chocolate eyes he has, full of love and devotion. You can't help a microscopic smile tugging the corners of your lips.

"Do you need water, or something?" He asks, knowing you drank a lot last night and would be thirsty and hangover this morning.

Rolling your head back, your eyes are back to the ceiling.

"Can't remember the last time I was okay." Your voice is a whisper, but it doesn't quiver. "Actually, I do."

Din approaches you, hand still on your stomach, until his nose touches your cheeks where he gently nuzzles your skin. When you don't pull back, he buries his face on the crook of your neck, trying to offer some comfort.

“Did we make a terrible mistake, Din?”

You feel him tense on your skin, but relaxes as he sighs and thinks of an answer.

“I ask myself the same thing every night.” He confesses and you roll your head on the pillow to look at him, a sudden realization coming to you. You were so lost in your own feelings that you forgot to consider Din’s own feelings. He’s mourning just like you. He’s suffering just like you. It’s simply not fair for him to suffer in silence while you lash out at him every time you feel overwhelmed. “But you know what keeps me going?” He interrupts your inner self-loathing monologue and you look at him, waiting for the answer. “You.”

Tears water your eyes and a sob leaves your throat. Din cradles the back of your head and pulls you to an embrace as you bury your face on his tunic.

"Shit." You sob. "I'm so sorry, Din. I'm so, so sorry."

"Shh." He coos, his fingertips running through your scalp. "It's okay, my sweet girl."

"It's not," You whimper. "I'm a shitty wife, I didn't even–"

"Hey," He cups your cheeks and makes you look at him. His voice is stern as he speaks. "Don't ever say this again. You are an amazing partner and you know I'd do anything for you."

A wave of fresh tears water your eyes again as you hear his words. "Even after I yelled at you and got drunk and threw up on the grass?"

"Cyar’ika, you know I'll always be there to hold your hair, even if you don't want me to."

A small smile spreads your face, but it fades away too soon. "I'm sorry I didn't realize you were in pain too."

Din pulls you back to that same embrace, tucking your head under his chin.

"Don’t apologize.” He mumbles. “But you have to let me comfort you. You have to let me–” He chokes a sob, his tears falling on your hair. You don’t mention them, but you feel the wetness on your scalp.

“I know,” You whisper, face buried again on his neck. “I’m sorry–"

"Stop–"

"I have to say it, Din." You let out a desperate sigh. "I'm sorry. I was too deep into my own feelings that I didn't even acknowledge yours."

He presses a kiss on your hair, tightening his grip on you. You can feel his heartbeat against yours, your chests pressed together.

A silent pause hangs in the air until you speak again. "Do you think he misses us?"

Din doesn’t answer for a moment, just holds you silently, stroking your hair and tracing circles on your back. When he speaks, you feel his chest rumble with his voice.

“I think he does.” He pauses. “But he’s home now.”

You have to fight the tears that burn your eyes. Swallowing hard, you snake your hands around his torso, holding him gently, feeling the warmth of his skin through his sleep tunic. Then you feel his shoulders shuddering with the sobs he lets out. All you can do is hold him and cry with him.

The pain you both feel is too real and it’s something you thought you’d never feel. Of course, deep down, you’ve always known once you and Din find his people, you’d have to return him to his home. But it still hurt. It still hurts.

“What if–” He sobs. “Cya– Cyar’ika, what if we– we were his home?”

You pull away to look at him. His eyes red, tears running down his cheeks. You’ve never seen him like this, so broken and vulnerable and your heart breaks at the sight. Quickly switching roles, you move to wipe his tears with your thumb, cradling his face and pulling him to a comforting embrace. He buries his face on your neck and you can’t help but notice the parallel between his actions and yours. Din lets all out, not holding back the sobs and whimpers and the tears that wet your tunic. You can’t contain your own tears, crying silently with him. It’s only after he calms down a bit, minutes later, that you speak.

“If we are his home, then he’ll come back to us.” Your voice is a rushed whisper, laced with empathy. “They have our comlink info, if he needs he can contact us, right?”

The breath Din takes is shaky as he sighs deeply, nuzzling his wet face on your neck. He is silent for a moment, but he’s calmer now; you can feel his body relax and melt against yours as you run your fingers on his scalp, your nails running lightly on his skin.

“You were the best mom he could've ever had.” He says, suddenly. You smile at that, closing your eyes and pressing your lips on his hair, above his ear.

“And you were the best dad.”

The room fills with silence as you both close your eyes and fall asleep in each other's arms.

…

When the morning finally comes, you feel a little better waking up. Opening your eyes, you don't feel the headache you thought you'd feel either from the hangover or from crying last night. You feel fine, physically. When you look to Din's side of the bed you realize he's not here. As you sit up and stretch, the door to your quarters hisses open and he enters the room, holding two cups of caf. You smile at him as he sits back on the bed and hands you a cup mirroring your smile.

"Are you feeling okay?" He asks, and you know he's not asking about the hangover.

You nod, backing up to the wall where your bed touches, leaning on the cold surface as you sip the hot drink. He leans on the headboard, staying on a perpendicular position. "You?"

He nods too, placing a hand on your leg that now sits on his lap. Silence hangs in the air as you both drink your hot beverages, deep in your minds. Until Din breaks it.

"I was thinking…"

"You do that?" You tease and hide a smile with the cup as he looks at you surprised. It's the first time you've made a joke ever since you both had to leave that small planet where your son stayed. He thinks about mentioning he missed your smile, but saves it for now. Now, he just wants your opinion, so he just narrows his eyes at you and says,

"Funny." With a flat voice. You suppress a laugh and nod for him to continue. "Meshl'a, I know nothing in the galaxy will replace him… But, I was thinking that maybe–" He hesitates, tracing circles with his thumb on your skin. "Maybe we should–"

"Steal another baby?" You interrupt him and watch as he widens his eyes and hangs his mouth open, surprised. He lets out a laugh, throwing his head back and you smile at the sight. You missed his laugh.

"I wouldn't put it like that." He wipes a tear from the corner of his eyes. "But yeah, maybe we should steal another baby."

"I was thinking the same thing." Your smile fades as you assume a more serious tone in your voice. Hesitating, you look away, cheeks burning with shame. "I didn't want you to think I wanted a substitute for the green bean, that's why I didn't mention it."

"Baby…" He runs his hand up your legs and rests it on your knee.

"Remember when we decided to have another baby?" You speak before him. "When I found out I couldn't, I felt bad for you, because I know how important a family is to your culture–" Din says your name, trying to argue but you don't let him. "Just let me finish." You swallow, cradling your cup on your hands. "I still want that. I have always wanted that. And, yes, there's nothing in this galaxy or in the next one that will replace him, but… I still want to be a mom."

Din eyes water as he sets his cup of caf on the bedside table and approaches you, pressing his lips gently to yours. He takes your caf and places it besides his as he crowds you with his body.

“Is that a yes?” You mumble on his mouth, smiling.

Din pulls away just enough to look at you. His hand cups your cheek and you close your eyes at his touch. “I missed your smile.” He confesses.

You press your lips against his, pulling him closer to you.

“Yes.” He finally says. “Let’s steal another baby.”

You don’t hold back the laugh that leaves your lips. Even if everything goes wrong, you still have him and he still has you.

_

Mando’a translations:

cyar’ika - sweetheart

meshl’a - beautiful

riduur - spouse

or’trikar - grief

_

tags: @adikaofmandalore​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @goldafterglow​

#the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #myfic

[shootybangbang]

In which things are asked, and things are promised [Part 1/2]

[Pairing]: Arthur Morgan/Reader

[Rating]: Explicit

[Part 2]

Only read this if you like being both sad and horny at the same time. 

Not necessarily canon for my ongoing fic, Talking Bird

———

 It’s the inverse of the scene you and he have played out so many times before.

As you unbutton his shirt, you follow every inch of revealed skin with your mouth, trailing a line from his collarbone to his belt. His breath catches in his throat when you palm his erection, the familiar sound now cause for dread, what once signified arousal now a warning of the cough to follow. 

You worriedly glance upwards, but Arthur shakes his head before you can speak.

“I’m good,” he says. “Keep going.”

So you lower your eyes again. You kneel before him as he sits on the edge of your bed. The wooden slats of your floor are digging into your knees and leaving pink imprints, but no matter, no matter. He is touching your face and running his thumb across your cheek, he is sighing shakily as you take him into your mouth, as you drag your tongue against the length of him and part your lips around the head of his cock.

It’s not long before he stops you. “Not gonna last with you goin’ at me like that.”

You roll your eyes. “That’s the point of it.”

“C’mon, get up here.” He pats the space beside him on the bed. “Want to be inside you again.”

“You are inside me,” you reply, flicking your tongue against him again.

“Cheeky.” Arthur says, grinning. He lightly pinches the side of your face. “You know what I mean.”

“Help me with my dress, then.” Turning your back to him, you stand between his legs and rest your hands on his knees. Facing him is the column of white buttons like a spinal cord, running from the nape of your neck to your lower back.

He undoes them the way he always has: top to bottom, clumsily pushing each button through its corresponding eyelet. “Never liked these things,” you hear him grumble from behind, but there’s no real resentment in it. 

You’ve always suspected that he takes a certain satisfaction in undressing you this way. You both prefer the easy convenience of your usual clothes, but the gradual reveal that your more elaborate dresses provide has an appeal all its own. It’s indicative of a side of him, you think, that takes a slow delight in things. A side few others, if any, have ever seen. 

When he’s finished, Arthur slips the dress from your shoulders and pulls it down your hips, lets it fall in a pool of grey cloth at your feet.

“Nothing underneath?” he runs a hand from the curve of your waist to the flare of your thigh and you close your eyes, shivering at his touch. “You make a habit of dressing this way or is this just for me?”

You turn to face him. “Just for you.”

He’s silent as he drinks in the sight of you. Even now he regards your naked body with a look of quiet disbelief, as if he’s being gifted with a sight reserved for better men. 

But then the moment passes. The lazy grin returns. He presses two fingers along your slit and you stiffen with surprise.

“Arthur! You —”

When he pulls his hand away, his fingers are shiny with your slick. “This for me too?”

You impatiently yank at his sleeve in response. “Hurry up and take off your clothes already.”

“Easy, girl,” he says, shrugging off his shirt. “Ain’t hardly been here a full hour and already you’re givin’ me orders.”

“That’s right.” You put your hand on his shoulder and give him a playful shove. Arthur falls exaggeratedly backwards onto your sheets, landing with a soft whump against the mattress. “But that’s how you like it, isn’t it?”

“That I do,” he says softly.

He lifts his hips to let you shimmy him out of his trousers, pulling them down to his calves. Then his boots, his socks, until he’s laid as bare as you are. 

Now that you’re able to get a good look at him, you realize he’s lost even more weight than you’d originally thought. The slight curve of his collarbone now a steep incline, the shadow of his ribs faint beneath his skin. Paler than he should be, his eyes dark with exhaustion. 

You touch the scattered bruises spread along his left side. Mottled violet fading to green, days old. Even in this state, Dutch is still sending him out. The old condemnations weigh heavy in your mouth, but you bite them back. There’s no point in it, not when he’s long since made his choices known.

“Must really look like shit if even you’re lookin’ at me like that.”

“Yeah,” you admit, skimming your fingers over his stomach. “But your mind’s made up, isn’t it?”

He nods. There is a small, tired smile on his face as he gestures towards himself. “C’mere, girl.”

You make your way up to him in increments, starting with a kiss to his thigh, then another to the ridge of his hip, letting your lips linger on the jut of bone there, once hidden under muscle but now so prominent beneath the skin. Your thumb traces over the thin, jagged scar that spans across his torso, and you follow its path with your tongue. 

Then you pass your palm gingerly over the dark bruising on his side, the scabbed over cut along his forearm, the myriad scratches and scuffs that litter his body, injuries building up little by little until he’s more a patchwork of scars than a man.

Lightly, delicately, you touch the ugly scar across his shoulder, the bullet hole encircled by the gunpowder burn, pressing your mouth to it as you finally straddle him. You run your thumb along the diagonal set of scars on his chin and lower yourself against him, careful not to put any pressure against his chest as you put your hand between your thighs and fit him inside.

The smooth glide, the enveloping warmth so feverishly sweet and intense, has him squeezing his eyes shut to endure it. He makes a low, guttural noise in the back of his throat as he bucks up, but you stop him, pushing his hips down with both hands as you sit up and hold him still.

“Let me,” you say, soft but firm.

“I ain’t an invalid —”

“Arthur, please.” 

He hears the brittle urgency in your voice and relents. Arthur sighs, rolling his head back and gazing up at you with his dark blond hair ruffled against your pillow, then raises his hand to your face and brushes his knuckles across the wet glimmer of your cheek. You close your fingers around his wrist and turn to press your lips to his palm, then bring it to rest between the valley of your breasts, laying the flat of it against your sternum.

“When this is all over,” you whisper. “I’m gonna take care of you. Just like this.”

Then the slow lift of your hips. A pace so deliberately drawn out that you can count the beats of your heart in between each rise and fall. And through it all his eyes are fixed on the join of your bodies, the easy back and forth of it, taking in every inch of you the way he would a passing doe or a heron in flight. Something lovely but fleeting, gone in the next second. Nothing left behind save the afterimage, immaterial as air but in his mind’s eye the essentials of it sharp and clear. Touching your skin like he’s tracing the lines in a book, reading with his fingers the whole of you, so intent and with such solemnity that you immediately recognize the meaning of it.

He wants this moment to last as a frozen instant to call back upon later, a final image to dwell upon should he meet his end tomorrow. The realization swells like a palpable thing in the  confines of your breast, and you are full to bursting, heavy with grief and dread alike — 

Then Arthur meets your eyes, gazing at you with such frank tenderness that all your words die in your mouth, forgoing speech entirely in favor of pure emotion.

“My beautiful girl,” he murmurs. “I love you so much.”

You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut tight against the prickle of tears. A choked sob rises high in your throat that you try, and fail, to swallow down. And it washes over anew, the bitter futility of it all, the bottomless fear that, even with him held inside you and pressed firm against your hips, that even now he is slipping away, little by little, like grains of sand in an hourglass.

“I love you too,” you whisper, voice hoarse with emotion. “And that’s why I’m so scared that you won’t… th-that you won’t…” 

You bite your lip and shake your head. Some small, superstitious part of you is convinced that giving voice to the mere possibility of his death will give it further hold on him. 

Arthur braces an arm against the mattress and raises himself up to meet you. He holds you steady, his hand cradling the back of your head as he presses his mouth to your own in a long, lingering kiss. And he is warm against your skin, calloused and scarred and torn, the marks of a life hard-lived rough against your palms as you clutch at the broad plane of his back. 

He shifts his hips upwards and the raw ache of him twinges deep between your thighs, the sudden pang of sensation enough to coax from your throat a high, fluttery gasp.

“Ah, there it is,” Arthur says, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Never could get tired of that noise.”

You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, grinning reluctantly. “That so?”

“Wouldn’t lie to you for the world,” he replies, his voice so earnest that you decide not to bring up your tumultuous second encounter, during which he’d lied profusely.

He lays you down beneath him, the warm weight of him heavy against your hips as he presses deep, breathing harsh as he starts up a hard, steady rhythm. 

“Wait, you’re gonna wear yourself out—”

“Let me,” Arthur growls stubbornly. Left unsaid is the latter half of the sentence: while I still can.

The bedsprings creak with familiar protest as he works you over, squeaking shrill and constant under the force of his thrusts. Twisting slow come the first, nascent ripples of pleasure, rising warm and persistent through where he’s joined with you. You appeal to him with an urgent whimper, gripping him tight as he kisses you again. 

When you come, it all coalesces — the rough scrape of his stubble against your lips, the raw satisfaction of having him sunk deep inside, pressed so close and so dear… then the rise and fall afterwards, the warm and honeyed feeling of relief flooding soft through your veins. And with it, that momentary state of thoughtless bliss, of naked vulnerability so sweet and unguarded that the words slip out before you can stop yourself.

“Arthur,” you murmur. “Finish inside this time.”

He freezes mid-thrust, takes a long, shuddering breath. But in his eyes is reflected the same desperate, awful want, and you can feel the quickening of his blood, the rush of his own instinctual urge.

“Can’t,” he says weakly. “Couldnt… couldn’t risk leavin’ you alone like that.”

“I know.” Turning your head, you bite your lip and will yourself not to cry. “God, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have —”

“But when I come back… ” he interrupts, his voice a hoarse, unsteady whisper. “I’ll make it up to you. As many times as it takes.”

When he comes back. Only a possibility of a possibility now, that minuscule chance that you’ve held onto so fiercely, flickering and waning and dying bit by bit with every trace of blood in his breath. He’s a fool for saying it, and you’re a fool to believe it, but it’s all you have, god it’s all you have —

“Promise me,” you plead, the ache of your words sharp and bitter as gunpowder in the back of your throat.

“I promise.” He presses his mouth to your neck, and in his lovemaking there is a fervency now that edges upon desperation, his motions jerky and unrestrained. “I swear it, because I want it too, god knows I’ve dreamed it —”

Arthur pulls away with a ragged gasp, and his come streaks wet and warm against your belly as he takes himself in hand, panting hard as he wrings from himself the last, weakening pangs of his own release. Then he collapses beside you, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

It takes him a good minute. When he speaks again, it’s with his throat raw and rough, his words punctuated by the strain of his failing lungs.

“First thing we’re doing when we get out west is getting a decent bed.”

He says it with such casual conviction that it hurts with all the sharp, slivered pain of a knife. As if the narrow possibility of his survival were a certainty, a palpable thing ready for the taking. 

But if this is the last time, why drag the ugliness of reality into it? At least for a little while, you want to be soft and foolish with him. A pale simulacrum of domesticity. A reprieve, an idyll.

“One we can both actually fit in,” you say. “Like the big one in that Strawberry hotel.”

“But not too big. Gotta have room left over.”

“For what?” 

“For a crib,” he replies, turning to you with a smile so wistful and sweet that your heart flutters in your chest like a caged bird. “Might need to add a couple other rooms too, in time.”

The early evening light is filtering through the window, tinging everything it touches with shades of rose. Under it, the pallor of his cheeks is eased, the dark circles under his eyes no longer so prominent. Under it, he looks almost his old self again.

Settling yourself against him, you tuck your head against his shoulder and lay your palm across his chest, taking quiet comfort in the constant thump of his heartbeat. “Yes,” you say softly, allowing yourself the brief luxury of hope. “Yes, I think you’re right.”

------

17 June 2021: edited to add optional happy ending

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan/reader #arthur morgan/oc #rdr2 #red dead redemption #fic #my work #talking bird #i have no idea what the plot for talking bird is gonna be but i had to write this bc the inherent sad bitch in me refuses to shut up #smut #nsft

[sugargaysides]

the court | chapter 3

Word count: 1430

Warnings: blood, violence, swearing

-

Living in The Court had its up's and down's.

To Remus, it might have been the best years of his life, so far. He had a big family, people who were dear to him and he had sworn to protect them with his life. Sure, he still cared for Roman as any brother would but The Court? They were everything Remus could ask for.

Especially, Dee.

The older man was his favorite out of all of them. His best friend. His bedmate. His maybe-future lover.

Dee took him in when he didn't know where to go, taught him everything he needed to know, made him smile each and every day.

That was why he was standing there in this moment, smiling like there was no tomorrow as Dee took out the bastard who had tried to harm him.

"Don't just stand there, help!" The older shoved the unconscious man out of the way. Remus blinked a few times, shaking himself out of his nostalgic thoughts, "There's another two coming up behind you."

Remus didn't need to be told twice as he swiftly turned and socked the first in the nose - satisfied to hear something crack - before performing a roundhouse kick into the other one's eye. The man cried out in pain as he clutched his bleeding eye, unable to do anything. Remus took the opportunity to shove his knee into his stomach, making the man's breath hitch for a couple seconds.

After the first guy recovered from his injury, he tried pushing Remus off of his partner. With an annoyed groan, the younger gripped him by the collar of his shirt and threw him with great strength at the other. Both ended up in a pile, moaning in pain but Remus wasn't done yet. The heavy steps of his boots indicated another attack incoming and before the two men could get themselves together, Remus had already stomped them to unconsciousness. He didn't even blink at the sound of multiple bones cracking.

Dee watched as his friend landed kicks left and right, seemingly amused by the sight. Remus had always been brutal - not that Dee minded - and was known for his almost-barbaric ways in underground clubs. The older man loved seeing him in his element. Remus hardly ever lost a fight.

"Dee, I'm done!"

Without having broken into sweat, Remus wiped his bloody hands on his pants before making his way over to his crush. Together, they went home, leaving the three unconscious men behind. Not like they cared much.

-

"You're back! Guys, Dee and Ree are home!"

Chatter was heard as the two of them descended the stairs into the big tent. Children ran up to them, asking how they were and what they did. The elders stayed in the corners, watching amusedly as the pair was crowded by pesky youngsters.

Three of the children stood out more than the others as they welcomed them back. Dee smiled at the sight of them, they seemed bright and curious as ever.

First, there was Remy. A prankster of the finest art, someone who spent way too much time with Remus. Usually seen with a cheeky grin across his freckled face, even now as he teased the older men about their bloody knuckles.

Then there was Emile. While he hung out a lot with Remy, he was a much sweeter kid. Always ready to help whenever someone needed anything. He was more concerned about their enemies than the pair themselves.

And lastly, Dice. She was younger than both of them but she had lived through some stuff. She's happier than ever now, thanks to her best friends and Dee. The older had picked her up once he saw her and went to his tent, leaving a tired Remus with the other kids.

"Mr. Dee, are you hurt at all?" The girl worried about him as he set her down on his mattress, "Should I get bandages or- or a washcloth-"

"Don't worry, darling. The blood's not mine."

Dee felt a pang in his chest as he saw her relax at the still very concerning news. Was it guilt? Sadness because she didn't understand that blood-shed was not something one should be calm about?

Whatever it was, Dee didn't want to dwell on it any further.

A comfortable silence seeped into the tent as Dice helped him clean up his hands. He placed the bloodied cloth aside before ushering the little girl outside. While he loved spending time with her, he needed some time to himself.

'Just a little quiet with no one else but m-'

"Dee! I'm bored!"

"Fuck me."

"Oh? Sure, but maybe not when everyone's still outside-"

Dee didn't even find the energy to throw the bloodied cloth at his friend, and instead lied down on the mattress. He listened to the soft footsteps as Remus stepped closer to his makeshift bed. Not wanting to make the older any more anxious, he scooted beside him and made sure Dee could see him. He slowly wrapped him up in his arms and rested his head on top of Dee's.

They didn't speak as they lied there in each other's arms. Dee wanted to say something, wanted to thank the other for the comfort but he couldn't get a single sound out. Remus, for once, didn't seem to mind the silence as he tightened his grip - but not too tight - and nuzzled his mustached face in Dee's hair.

Dee didn't mind it all that much either.

-

The moon shone through the window, directly at the laid-out blueprints on Virgil's desk. His goggles were discarded somewhere behind him as he analyzed the drawings in front of him. Paris was mindlessly floating around the room, making clicking noises as he avoided Roman's hands.

"Come here, you! I want a hug, you piece of metal!"

Paris let out what sounded like an offended noise and only flew further away from the disappointed man. Roman dropped onto Virgil's bed with a huff, leaning against the headboard as he watched his lover stand there - doing nothing - when he could be cuddling him right now.

"Stormcloud, I want cuddles," Virgil merely blinked but didn't look up from his prints, "Please, I'm dying over here." That seemed to get his attention for a second before he went back to his work.

Roman groaned in annoyance but gave up soon enough. He lied down comfortably under the sheets and waited until his lover went to bed.

It felt like hours before Paris dropped to his work desk and Virgil changed into bedwear. Smiling in relief, Roman scooted over so Virgil had space - in his own bed, mind you - and didn't hesitate to throw his arms around him once his lover settled under the sheets.

Cuddling into his chest, Roman let out a content sigh as he felt Virgil brush his thin, long fingers in his hair. Through another window, the moon shone down at them and Roman didn't need to look up to know his lover looked gorgeous in the moonlight.

"Any reason you're so clingy tonight?"

Virgil always had bad timing.

Roman was about to fall asleep before the other broke the silence but he didn't find it in himself to complain. Was he clingy? Was that a bad thing? Did Virgil not like him being clingy? Was he bothering him?

Roman shuffled away from Virgil reluctantly but didn't open his eyes. The younger was probably uncomfortable at their proximity. Virgil let out a small, confused sound at Roman's actions. What had gotten into him?

"Sorry, I just- I felt lonely, I suppose," Roman felt his cheeks burn in embarassment. Why would he open up to him - or anyone, for that matter - like that? That wasn't like him at all.

"Lonely?"

Roman nodded. In his embarassment he didn't notice Virgil pulling him to his chest until he planted a kiss on his forehead. Roman finally looked up at the other - he was right, Virgil was incredibly handsome in the moonlight - and was relieved to see the younger smiling down at him.

Looks like he was worried over nothing.

"When you're lonely, you just gotta look for me, okay?" Virgil kissed him on the nose this time, "And even when you're not and you just want a hug? I'm here," and he finally closed the distance between them.

Lying there in each other's embrace and kissing as the moonlight shone down at them?

Roman believed he truly wasn't that much of a bother anymore.

-

tag list: @runaways-run-the-night @cas-is-a-hunter @icequeenoriginal @the-aroace-queen-in-the-quiver

#sanders sides #sanders sides au #thomas sanders #prinxiety #roman sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #deceit sanders #demus #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic remus #dukeceit #the court #steampunk au #tw remus

[for-emilia]

Here Comes The Sun.

“Is that them all?” Emilia asked, glancing around the patio to check there’s no eggs left to be hidden among the garden. “I think so, chick,” Dele replied, side-eyeing Emilia, knowing she’d laugh at the cheesy, seasonal nickname. He wandered over to her in the barely-there morning sun and pulled her into his side as they glanced around the vast garden. It wasn’t an easy task to wake each other up at the arse crack of dawn to set up an Easter egg hunt however they knew it’d all be worth it just  to see the kids‘ faces light up. The little treats poked out various areas of the garden, ready to be found in a matter of hours; green and red eggs for their oldest, Isaiah, purple and blue eggs for their first daughter, Mabel, and finally little pink and yellow eggs for the youngest, Ora. The latter probably definitely wasn’t old enough to take part, not even one yet, but Dele insisted she had to be involved for her first Easter (“Del, you just wanna ‘help her’ and find them yourself, don’t ya?” Emilia teased the night before). 

Dele planted a kiss on the top of his wife’s head (how could he resist when he was the perfect height to do so?) before walking the blanket clad body backwards, pulling her into him on the garden sofa. A slosh of lukewarm coffee spilled over the side of Emilia's mug into Dele’s lap as their bodies bounced off each other. “Serves you right, could’ve warned me first,” Emilia rolled her eyes lovingly before making herself comfy on her husband, who opposed her own bundled up appearance, only soft shorts and socks, below the rising sun. Neither of them had ever really made a fuss about Easter in the past, but with children came new traditions and new adventures. As much as they loved the chaotic excitement of their babies searching out their presents from the ‘Easter Bunny’, the process before, where they were now, was just as nice. Just the two of them, cuddled up on the well-loved garden furniture beneath the emerging, warm sun, no noisy kids, just quiet conversation and serene bird calls. 

“Last year, that.. was in there..” Dele said, first pointing to the baby monitor resting on the arm of the sofa then moving his hand to rest over Emilia’s stomach. Ora was such a good sleeper, looking like an angel as she slept star-fish style, just as her dad does. The next half an hour rolled on in the same manner, the lovers cuddled up in the warm April breeze, chatting lightly and sharing kisses without objection from a certain Madam Mabel (who demanded Dele give her a kiss every time she caught Emilia sneak one).  Eventually as the sun poked through the trees, the two hauled themselves up to start the day before Isaiah did it himself, never one to spend more time in bed than necessary, much to his parents dismay. Separating for the first time that morning, Dele departed to get the two oldest ready for the day while Emilia crept into the nursery. 

After taking a glance to her bundle of joy, she moved over to the window, pulling the curtains open and fastening them on either side. Ora wiggled on cue as the sun softly beamed over her body, waking up her senses and producing a precious mewl from her awakening body. “Good morning, little love,” Emilia cooed, picking her up and tidying her curly tufts of hair that showed the remnants of her slumber. She padded across the carpet towards the window as muffled noises of bowls and spoons rang through the house, indicating Dele was getting breakfast started for the other two. Ora opened her eyes, letting the sun reflect off them and create a sea of golden brown, a mix of the tones evident in both of her parents’ own eyes. Emilia continued on getting her dressed and changed before settling to feed her in the rocking chair in the corner. This rocking chair was the centre of some contention in the Alli household: Dele claimed they didn’t need another and could still use the same one that saw love in Mabel and Isaiah’s early years, however, Emilia fell in love at first sight. After many discussions, Dele, of course, caved to his wife’s pleading eyes and agreed reluctantly to having it installed, still claiming it wasn’t necessary. Despite the countless protests and his claims still that it wasn’t anything special, the countless pictures of her husband curled up asleep with the tiny baby in his arms tell a different story completely. In a little bubble of their own, Emilia smiled down at the baby staring up at her in wonder, quietly singing ‘Here Comes The Sun’ by The Beatles. “Here comes the sun, here comes the sun, and I say, it’s alright.. Little darling...” she sings perfectly on, not realising her husband’s presence in the doorway. It’s times like these Dele remembers, with a smile and a pull on his heart, just how lucky he is. 

Surfacing from upstairs, the three join Mabel and Isaiah who were bouncing on their heels with baskets they’d decorated with Sally and Alan days before in hand, undoubtedly ready to begin their hunt. “Remember to only collect your own colours, yeah?” Dele reminded the two, even though he knew they weren’t listening, “3.. 2.. 1.. Go!”. Far before their father had even finished saying the last number, they’d let excitement get the better of them, shooting off in separate directions with mischievous giggles. Ora sensed the excited energy and let out a giggle of her own, clapping her chubby hands in her mother’s face. “Can’t let them have all the fun, can we little bunny?” Dele exclaimed, reaching to take his daughter off Emilia to start ‘helping’ her hunt for the little yellow and pink eggs of her own. “As much as I appreciate your creativity, Del, the Easter nicknames have got to stop tomorrow,” Emilia laughed out, squeezing her husband’s waist before he set off to join in the fun, childishly poking out his tongue. 

Shouts of excitement and frustration sounded through the huge garden as the children found and searched for each of their 10 eggs spaced out among the flowers, grass, trees and furniture. Their mother recorded little clips of the two older children running about in excitement, not only to keep for memories of their childhood and mementos for years to come, but to send to the extended family group chat; needless to say the final few seconds, where the video panned to Dele jumping up and down holding a tiny egg and Ora in the air while shouting in joy, prompted endless laughs and teasing from the Hickfords. While tentatively lifting Isaiah to reach an egg, which Dele had stupidly placed in the grand tree in the corner of the garden, Mabel pulled on her mother’s jogger leg, “Mami, I only have 9.” The beautiful girl’s sad eyes induced Emilia to kneel down and pull her daughter into her, “let's have a count, shall we?” she suggested, positive there was either one still left in the garden or the young girl had simply miscounted. 

“Del.. come over, babe,” Emilia smiled, hiding the confusion of ‘where the fuck had Dele hidden the other egg?!’. Under her breath she explained the issue and how she herself had looked for the final egg, to no avail, asking the question that had swam her mind for the past twenty minutes. Trying to remember where in the garden it had been placed without letting on it was them who’d hidden them, not the Easter Bunny, was more of a task than they’d thought with the world’s most nosy three year old around. Setting Ora down to play in the grass, he set off with his second born to find the egg himself, reassuring his wife he knew exactly where it was and that he was an ‘expert finder’ by now. With Isaiah occupied eating some of his treats and Ora exploring the funny texture of the grass between her fingers, Emilia laid back and observed her husband try to rectify the situation, laughing under her breath as she saw his face slowly morph into frustration and panic. Isaiah walked over to his mami, unintentionally startling her but then cuddling into her front, chocolate covering his face as he asked, laced with concern, “the Easter Bunny didn’t bring any for you?”. Immediately, her face is taken away from the scene unfolding on the other end of the grass and her heart melts at the kindness and consideration of her boy, a sense of pride washing over her that he wants everything to be fair, just like they’d raised him to believe. “Aw good boy, me and dada told the Easter Bunny to give them all to you though, mi angelito,” Emilia cooed, “all that chocolate will weigh dada down, he’s already getting slow in his old age, ey?” she joked with her eldest, tickling him as his face grew lighter, no longer concerned his parents were left out. 

As one problem gets resolved, another apparently follows as Mabel and Dele burst into celebration in sync, dancing in circles and squealing. She held up her hands, Dele knowing she wanted to do the handshake they’d made up after seeing his handshake with Son on the pitch and getting jealous. Laughing and grinning at their close relationship, Emilia taps Isaiah on the shoulder and motions toward his dad and sister sprinting across the garden with the missing egg in Mabel’s hand, warning him of the incoming bodies heading their way. As Isaiah got up to match the energy of his sister, Dele collapsed practically on top of Emilia. “Ew, gorgeous, you’re all sweaty,” she whined as his shirtless figure collided with her, only receiving an eyebrow wiggle from her husband as he moved away to pick up the youngest to join in the festivities. Even though there was a hiccup with the egg hunt, Dele’s shorts still carried a coffee stain from hours earlier, Isaiah’s face was covered in melted chocolate and the Easter lunch still wasn’t being prepared… none of it mattered. All 5 of them had smiles upon their face and hearts full of happiness and love. They couldn’t ask for anything better.

#hehehe happy easter

[floralseokjin]

— crystallised 03 (m)

crystallised /ˈkrɪst(ə)lʌɪz/ (verb) make or become definite and clear

Six weeks, that’s all it takes to forget about the threesome you shared with your boyfriend, Yoongi, and your past...fuck buddy, Seokjin. After all, it’s no big deal. Yoongi and you are doing better than ever, there’s no reason to regret such a night shared. That is until you hear some gossip in the library one day, and then slowly, little by little, everything starts to fall apart... Can you begin to make sense out of all this confusion, or is it too late?

pairing; min yoongi x reader, kim seokjin x reader genre/warnings; love triangle (? if you can call it that, more so just a lot of confused feelings by everyone involved), college au, one flashback (indicated by italics) with some smut, angst, seokjin is sweet and cute and my heart can’t take much more! words; 16,158

sequel to; memoirs of a mistake and lostmyhead

chapters; 01 ⤑ 02 ⤑ 03 ⤑ 04 ⤑ 05 ⤑ 06 ⤑ 07⤑ 08 ✓

“Hi, can I come in?” 

Seokjin hesitated. You could see it in his eyes too. You didn’t blame him. He was probably wondering a million and one things right now. Like why you were here at something past eleven in the night, and why were you looking the way you did? Face puffy, dried tears and mismatched clothing on. The colour of your pants clashing with that of your t-shirt. To put it frankly, you looked a complete mess. 

“I… You want to come in?” He changed the direction of his sentence right at the start. You nodded but you thought he missed it, turning his head to look behind him for a second. You didn’t miss the way he inched the door closer to him, blocking your view of inside his house as he stood out on the step. He didn’t have socks on. His feet were probably cold. You shook your head. Your mind was making you pick up on the trivial. 

But when Seokjin spoke again you were sure his tone was quieter. As if he didn’t want someone to hear him.  “What’s happened?” He did sound worried though. It made you want to pour your heart out. Stupid, you knew, but you couldn’t help the need deep inside you. You just wanted to talk to someone. Talk to him. 

You got to opening your mouth before you were interrupted. A voice calling his name. “Seokjin?” It got louder. In the back of your mind you realised you knew the voice. “What’s going o…” It only came to you when you saw her face. Jemma. She trailed off in surprise, stopping behind him. His body covered most of the doorway but she could definitely see your face between the gap of one of his shoulders and the wooden frame. 

“Jin?” She prodded, sounding awfully interrogating. He sighed lightly, almost like he’d accepted his fate and opened the door wider again. Jemma’s body came into full view. Her mouth was open, taken aback, but she still managed to glare at you. 

“Oh, my god,” you murmured, seized in shock yourself. Cheeks heating up with embarrassment you looked at Seokjin. “I’m sorry. I’ll just go.” You were an idiot. You’d unintentionally interrupted something, because of course you had. Turning up unannounced and so randomly was always going to cause a problem. You just hadn’t expected it to be Jemma. But then…why wouldn’t it be her? She was the one talking about him in the library. Interest laced in her tone, implication deep in her words. She had wanted him… She had gotten him… 

The distaste was heavy on your tongue. Almost like your second betrayal of the night. It was a silly thought. Seokjin didn’t owe you anything, but you were already so hurt and sad, and you didn’t like the other girl. Possibly uncalled for seeing as you didn’t know her all that well, but it was just a feeling you had. You couldn’t ignore it, and definitely not now. 

“This was a mistake.” You were almost talking to yourself. Scolding yourself as you turned to dash back to your car. 

“No!” Seokjin’s voice raised in volume as he called out to you and you felt his hand wrap around your wrist. You stopped, his hand falling to yours, tugging it gently, wanting you to face him again. “No. No. Wait.” Against better judgement, you did just that. Your hands stayed locked together until you both noticed Jemma staring at them. Seokjin pulled away, scratching behind his ear as he looked across at the other girl. “Um. Jemma, do you mind if this ends now? Like we take a raincheck on…this…?” 

Shit. You hadn’t been expecting that. Despite him stopping you from leaving, you didn’t realise he’d ask Jemma to do just that instead. Duh. You were so stupid. You should say something, but you were still a little mortified, even more so now, and you guessed the damage was already done… 

“You want me to leave?” She exclaimed, and something about her attitude seemed to rub Seokjin up the wrong way. 

“Yeah,” he said, tone abrupt. “Something’s come up. It’s kinda important, so.” He gave a little shrug and there was a moment of silence. It seemed to last an age. You stared at your feet. When you heard a noise of disbelief from Jemma, you looked up to see her storming for her shoes a little down the hall. 

“You cannot be serious.” She muttered under her breath, pushing them on aggressively. She was red in the face. Possibly with anger. Possibly with her own embarrassment. Seokjin went to open his mouth to say something when she grabbed her coat, but she shot him a look, nearly barging straight into him on her way out the door. He managed to sidestep it. For some reason she didn’t try to do the same to you, but the glare was enough. Oh, God. What had you done? Tonight was one mess after the other. 

You didn’t look back but you could hear her getting into her car across the road. Slamming the door, kickstarting the car loudly and then she was gone as she sped off. The road was filled with silence again. “Shit, Seokjin.” It was all you could say. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

You gave him a quick, hopefully subtle, once over. You couldn’t help it. Why had Jemma been here? Had you interrupted something? Your stomach felt funny just at the thought. Yet, Seokjin had been more than okay with virtually kicking her out. He wasn’t dressed out of the ordinary. Yeah maybe his t-shirt seemed to be ironed and he was wearing his best jeans, but nothing special special… Maybe he’d taken her out somewhere casual? A date…? Seokjin was dating now? 

“No, it’s fine,” he replied, shaking his head. He didn’t seem particularly bothered. About that. But with you, he was looking at you with wide eyes, they shook a little as he tried to read your face. “Now tell me what’s up.” You’d never heard him sound so worried.  “Come inside.” 

He didn’t take your hand this time, so when he stepped inside you were still stood in front of the doorstep. Frozen. You didn’t want to pour your heart out anymore. You couldn’t pour your heart out. You were being selfish. Turning up at Seokjin’s door like he owed you something, flipping his night unexpectedly upside down. What did you want? Why were you here? Nothing made sense. None of it did. Your argument with Yoongi. How that led to him breaking up with you, like he’d been racking it through his brains for days, weeks… Ignoring your actual friends in favour of running to a guy who was just trying to live his goddamn life in peace. You weren’t a part of his life now. Hadn’t been in so long. Yet, why was he the only face you wanted to see right now…?  

“I should go,” you whispered, turning to make a quick escape, but Seokjin was quicker. His hand found you again. This time it was your waist. Fingers digging into your side firmly, weight holding you down. He felt warm. He felt nice. It comforted you, and your face crumpled, emotion tearing at you. 

“You’re freaking me out. Come inside.” His tone was firm. It wasn’t an offer, and maybe yeah, you didn’t want to leave. You didn’t know what you wanted. That seemed to be a running problem. But you followed him inside, missing the warmth of his touch and kicking off your shoes where Jemma had grabbed hers. 

“You knock on my door, looking like you’ve been crying.” He carried on. When you turned to look at him he began searching your expression again, desperate for some kind of answer. “Everything okay with your parents?” 

“Yeah,” you answered straight away, surprised by his kind question. “Everything’s fine.” For the most part. You mean, except for your relationship falling apart in the blink of an eye not even an hour ago, your life was fine. A loving family, good friends, your grades were high. It was all fine. Just now you didn’t have Yoongi. You didn’t have the guy you had thought was the one anymore… 

“It’s just…” You began, your voice small and shaky. You hated it. Hated Seokjin seeing you like this. It was mortifying. Why were you here again? But he listened carefully, eager to learn the problem. Immensely worried. Shit. You were such a bitch. “Yoongi broke up with me.” 

The words sounded strange on your tongue. Like they hadn’t come from you. It was all very well thinking it in your head but now it was out loud. You sounded pathetic. Seokjin’s expression froze, his eyes widening a tad, unable to blink. Slowly his brows creased together, the most puzzled look etching its way on his face. He sounded just as bewildered. 

“What?” 

It was the last thing he’d been expecting. You knew immediately. But really there was never going to be a plausible reason for knocking at his door near to midnight. “He just broke up with me.” You couldn’t seem to go into more detail. It also seemed you couldn’t cry anymore. You were still in shock, and your dried tears made your eyes heavy.  

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here. I-I don’t really know why I did.” Broken thoughts were bouncing around the front of your mind. Honestly, what were you thinking right now. Panicked you took a step backwards. “I’m just not thinking straight. I should—

“Just slow down.” Seokjin reached for you, hand on your shoulder. His voice was soft when he continued and you didn’t like it. It was a pity voice. He pitied you. “Start from the beginning.” 

“But I shouldn’t have come here.” Your voice was a whine. It would be easier if he just told you to get lost instead of feeling like he had to be nice to you. He didn’t owe you anything. You knew that. Yet here you were, looking for it. 

“Like I care about that,” he scoffed. It shut you up. “You’re here now, and you’re not going until I get answers—In the least creepiest way possible.” He added, a small smile twitching at his mouth. You looked at him. It felt like nothing could cheer you up right about now, but you appreciated the sentiment. 

“C’mon, let’s sit down,” he murmured, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. You followed him with dragging footsteps. Sitting on his couch with something swirling in your stomach. Guilt. You just didn’t know what or who for. 

Seokjin had to prod eventually because your mouth wouldn’t work without questions and your voice still didn’t feel like yours. “Yoongi broke up with you?” His tone was careful, bordering awkward, just like the situation you’d put him in. At no point in the last couple of weeks did he agree to be any type of emotional support to you, but here you were. Maybe that’s why you felt guilty? But you nodded anyway. “When?” 

“Like an hour ago.” 

Seokjin made something of an exhale in shock. It wasn’t supposed to be loud. You weren’t supposed to hear it probably, but you did. He hadn’t expected that. Hadn’t expected you to turn up at his door pretty much immediately afterwards. You hadn’t either. Your gaze fell around the room, trying to distract yourself. Sandeul’s door was wide open, empty, signalling he wasn’t at home. You could also see the opening to the kitchen from where you were sat and something caught your eye. Caught you by surprise. You looked at the coffee table in front of you. Two wine glasses. Both pretty full. Like the people drinking had been interrupted. You had sabotaged his night. What an idiot you were. 

“Why? How?” Seokjin’s voice grabbed your attention again. Rushing his questions without much thought until they slipped from his tongue. “I mean, I’m not forcing you to talk but I’m just so confused…” 

“I don’t know.” Yoongi’s reasonings were still swirling around your head. The weight of them still heavy on your chest. There were honestly a lot of things on your mind right now. This night was just getting worse. You looked down at your lap. “I’m a little in shock. I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah… It’s fine. Honestly,” he spoke sincerely. It just made the guilt rise. “We can just sit in silence. Anything that makes you feel better.” 

“No.” You shook your head. You weren’t apologising over that. “I’m sorry I turned up at your door uninvited. Ruined your date.” Your eyes found his kitchen again. The stacked plates by the sink. You thought of Jemma sitting where you were minutes before. Wine glass in her hand after agreeing to spend the night. She could finally drink if she wasn’t driving home, but then you turned up.

It could’ve been different though. They could’ve spent the night together. Your stomach lurched, a visual inside your mind you didn’t ask for. It was unjustified. To feel this way. Seokjin was free to do whatever he wanted. Sure had been for months. It just made you feel weird to know any later and you would’ve turned up at his door interrupting a very different moment. With Jemma. Jemma, out of all the girl’s at college? Argh. Again, unjustified. You wanted to scream. Your mind was just a tornado of emotions. 

“Huh? No. Oh shit, no. You didn’t ruin anything.” He seemed confused at first but turned eager to reassure you. It didn’t though. He tried again. “It wasn’t even really a date.” You watched him shrug offhandedly. It wasn’t? It sure looked like a date. He realised your confusion and sighed a little. “It’s a bit complicated.” 

You frowned. He seemed a little frazzled over his own problems and here you were offloading more shit on him. You wanted to ask him what was wrong, but your tongue wouldn’t work. Maybe you were too afraid of the answer. It was stupid. You thought he noticed. 

“Look, it’s not about me right now,” he smiled. Almost like he was trying to reassure you. “I’m fine and you’re not, so please, let me be there for you.” 

His words made you chest feel a little tight. Like you could burst into tears again in seconds. Someone being nice to you when you were upset just made the dam collapse. That was usually the case. But in this case, it could very well be something else. His words weren’t Seokjin-like. Not the Seokjin you were used to anyway. 

You took a while to speak again, lulling into silence. He really didn’t want to pressure you, and in turn that gradually made you want to open up more. Yoongi’s words floated around your head like a bad memory. A very recent bad memory. You needed to get rid of them. “He said he couldn’t fall in love with me.” Your voice felt deafening. “He said it should’ve happened by now.” 

There was more silence, only stunted this time. You could hear Seokjin wanting to open his mouth and say something but he was struggling himself, shocked. “Shit,” he finally managed. “I’m so sorry.” It was always weird how people offered their condolences in the form of sorry when something bad happened. Everyone did it. “I can’t begin to understand what that feels like but I… I’m really sorry.” 

“It’s okay, Seokjin,” you smiled. It was emotionless but at least you were trying. “Don’t feel so bad. You’re not the one who broke up with me.” 

He gave a little shrug. Unsure of what to say. “Yeah, but...”

You groaned softly, fresh humiliation washing over you. “I don’t know why I came here.” This was so unfair on him. You’d hijacked whatever the hell was going on here tonight just to put Jin in an uncomfortable position. This was not how he wanted his night to go. Whatever he told you. “I should’ve called Lina… I just–” Lina would have hugged you and you probably would’ve cried like a baby. She was your best friend, not Seokjin. So, why were you here? 

Maybe it was because you felt comfortable enough to confide in Seokjin, while the very thought of doing the same with Lina made you want the earth to open up and swallow you whole. Because you’d kept your relationship problems, worries, whatever the hell they were, hidden from her. In fear of popping your perfect little fantasy. You didn’t have to lie with Seokjin. He’d been there the night of the party. Seen how your relationship was a goddamn joke. “Just the thought of telling her. I feel like such an idiot.” 

He jumped on that straight away. “Hey, it’s not your fault at all. You have nothing to feel stupid over.” You understood that. Maybe. It never felt great to be dumped. “It’s that fucker’s.” If you didn’t know any better, you’d say Seokjin sounded mad. You had never really seen him pissed – bar maybe the night of Namjoon and Hoseok’s party, but that had disappeared immediately once distraction appeared… No, you shouldn’t think of that night. That stupid night… 

“Honestly, what the fuck is his problem?” Seokjin carried on, pausing to hesitate, as if he was wondering if he should carry on with whatever he was about to say. He couldn’t feel that passionate over you, right? 

“I-I know you probably don’t want to hear this right now, but he doesn’t seem all that perfect. He’s the idiot.” 

“He’s not.” You shook your head. Yoongi was the sweetest, even when he was breaking up with you. Just Seokjin hadn’t seen that. All he had to go by was you sad at his door, tears dried down your cheeks. “There’s more to it.” You didn’t quite know what. But there was. The break up was the right thing, you understood what Yoongi meant, no matter how much you felt like it was wrong. 

Seokjin tilted his head, sounding dubious when he spoke again. “Getting drunk, propositioning you for a threesome and then storming off when he got embarrassed?” 

Okay, that night hadn’t looked good on him, but now you knew the truth about it you felt like you could understand him better. “That’s a bit of an over exaggerat–”

“Did he ever apologise for that?” 

You nodded. “He did. We worked it out, but…” 

“You didn’t?” Seokjin asked gently. 

You could probably go into it, tell Seokjin why Yoongi had ever thought another threesome was a good idea, but…you just felt awkward. Reminding you, why were you here exactly? Perhaps Jin understood like no other, but at the same time, that made it worse. He didn’t ask for any of this… He was just trying to live his life. So, you nodded again, slower this time, closing your eyes sadly. “I’m beginning to think the relationship was never going to work out.” You were an idiot for even thinking you could have a proper relationship. 

Seokjin was silent for a moment. It wasn’t particularly painful, actually it was nice to have some quiet to try and still your thoughts. When you opened your eyes again he was running his hands through his hair, face etched with something – guilt, worry, stress... All three?  “I really don’t know what to say. I’m sorry.” 

He didn’t really need to say anything. You had no expectations. Not when you’d forced him into this situation. You watched as his hair flounced back over his forehead, stopping just above his eyebrows. “You cut your hair,” you commented, something unexplainable in your gut. 

“Yeah,” he said, laughing a little as he ran his fingers through it again. “It was kinda getting on my nerves a little, so…” You nodded and smiled in understanding, but your chest squeezed tight. You felt put out. So unbelievably unjustified. But that night he’d walked you home you’d told him not to cut it because you liked it. Joke or not, it hurt a little to know he hadn’t listened. God, you were way too sensitive tonight. It wasn’t like your opinion mattered to him whatsoever. Why would it? You weren’t a part of his life anymore. 

“You’re tired,” he hummed, mistaking your no reply for something else. He had no clue you were lost in thought over some dumb shit that meant nothing. “Do you want to stay over?” Your heart suddenly jumped. “I’ve been drinking so I can’t take you home. Of course you can drive back by yourself and call me when you arrive home okay, but I don’t know… Do you want to be alone tonight?” 

He watched you, waiting for a reply. His expression was oddly serious, so unlike the Seokjin you knew, you wondered if you knew the real him at all? You wondered if you deserved his kindness? You wondered why his question made you feel funny inside… Something you hadn’t felt in a while… 

“Do you mind?” You wanted to add an ‘I’m here now anyway…’ but that seemed rude somehow. He hadn’t invited you. You’d taken that upon yourself. 

He didn’t mind. At all. In fact, he seemed quite happy to offer you his bedroom, his bed. Even looking inside his drawers for something for you to wear. That seemed unnecessary. You told him just as much. Your clothes were comfortable enough to sleep in and you were pushing your luck just stealing his bed for the night. He laughed and agreed without little argument.

In all honesty, imagining wearing Seokjin’s clothes to bed was a little… You didn’t know. It made you feel weird. As did just being his room again, lying on his bed. You hadn’t been here since the night you ended things with him. How long ago was that now? Months ago. It seemed like a lifetime ago, yet seeing how nothing had really changed here made you feel strange…sad? His sheets were still the same pattern. So that meant he still had only one set, choosing to wash and dry it every time he cleaned. The same things littered the top of his drawers, a pen pot, deodorant, cologne, the freaky Super Mario figure that used to watch you have sex… It was all still there, and pretty obviously, the room smelt just the same as it always had. Of him. The smell on his sheets seemed to blanket you, and while it brought you some comfort, it also made you feel something else. Weird. Your brain felt clouded. Maybe that’s why you asked the next thing.   

“Can you stay for a little while?” Seokjin had been standing like a spare part in his own room for last minute or so, unsure of what to do or say next, but he froze when those words came from your mouth. You tried again. “We can put the TV on? Maybe I’ll fall asleep.” 

He hesitated. You thought about reassuring him. It was definitely not like that at all. It was a stupid request possibly, yes, but you just simply weren’t ready to be alone. However, before you could open your mouth again he was nodding slowly. You didn’t miss the way his eyes ran down your body a little. As if he was fully comprehending the situation. You were lying on his bed once again. After all this time. 

The mattress dipped as he laid down, shoulders slouched against the headboard and he grabbed the tv remote, switching the screen on that was attached to the wall opposite. Ah. There was a change. The TV. That was different. The low buzzing of the volume almost soothed you a little, the dim glow of the screen too, but most of all it was Seokjin’s presence. He hadn’t spoken since, nor had you, and he kept a distance between your bodies but it felt nice anyway. Let you stare at the tv without really paying attention but somehow distracted you from thoughts of Yoongi.  

When he did finally speak again his voice was low and careful. But eager, curious. “Can I ask why you came here?” He watched you stir next to him, looking his way. “To me?” 

He wanted answers. You didn’t really blame him. But in all honesty you had nothing. Nothing concrete or satisfying. “I don’t really know.” Your voice was quiet.  “You’re just the first person I thought of.” That much was true. You’d felt it so deeply you’d rushed over immediately.

There was a beat of silence, but your shitty reply seemed to have sated him a little. “Well, it’s fine.” He slid closer to nudge you with his shoulder. Those thoughts suddenly came back. What it would feel like to have Seokjin’s arms around you. They were dangerous now. When you were with him. In his bedroom. On his bed. “That you came here. I don’t mind.” 

You didn’t reply this time. Too preoccupied. You began to remember the night he’d walked you home. How he’d sidestepped your attempted kiss. Because you had tried to kiss him. Would he refuse you now, if you tried the same thing? Not that you wanted to. It was all hypothetical, but it seemed to be your thing. Seeking comfort from him when you were hurt. However, he probably new that. That’s why he’d ignored it last time, and had been wary to stay with you right now. He probably didn’t want to take advantage of you when you were emotionally vulnerable like this, unless… He really didn’t want you like that anymore. That was a strange thought. 

Seokjin used to want you a lot, all the time. Until you hadn’t wanted him back… You. Now here you were, the one left heartbroken from a failed relationship. God, that made you seem so self-centred and selfish. Yoongi was hurt too. Not just you… 

“Do you love him?”

Seokjin’s question broke you out of your thoughts. “Sorry,” he apologised, noticing he’d interrupted you. He repeated himself, rewording slightly. You realised you hadn’t misheard him in your daze. “Are you in love with Yoongi?” 

Your answer came quickly. “No.” No hesitation. Maybe you had time to get used to it, maybe it was something else. “I never really thought about it. I mean,” you paused before carrying on. “I did. I just assumed I was in love with him. Or it was leading up to that.” It felt good to get your thoughts out. To realise how you’d been mistaken these past few weeks. Blind to a lot. “I was waiting for him to say it first because I thought that’s what people did. I thought he was the one. I liked him so much.” You shook your head, correcting yourself. “I still do like him. It’s just I don’t think it’s ever going to be love.” Yoongi was correct. 

Seokjin had listened politely all the way through. You hadn’t looked at his face when you spoke so you didn’t know what his reaction was, but he asked another question shortly afterwards. “Why did you think he was the one?” 

That question made you pause. It seemed a little more weighted than the other, and you didn’t really have an answer. It was Yoongi. Any girl would be lucky to have him as a boyfriend. He was perfect. He could be anybody’s one. Just not yours. You’d been mistaken. You shrugged. “It just felt like he was, but I don’t know anything.” You spoke the next sentence without thinking. “If he was the one we wouldn’t have done what we did.” You looked at Seokjin. “You know. Us. At the party.” 

There was a beat of silence. Almost awkward. “Yeah.” Seokjin muttered. 

You didn’t want to bring the past up, and definitely not that, but now your head was spinning with fresh thoughts. Ideas. Reasons. Answers. “Maybe it is my fault.” 

“Huh?” Seokjin asked softly, confused. 

“He told me it wasn’t to do with that, but thinking about it, it just seemed like he was trying to make me feel better. Less guilty.” The threesome would’ve never happened if you hadn’t been messaging Seokjin. Hadn’t agreed to go upstairs. It wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for you, period. Maybe you did this. Destroyed everything you could’ve had with Yoongi before it even had time to begin. 

Seokjin sighed your name. “Don’t say shit like that.” His voice sounded thicker, probably tired. Lying here in the dark, dealing with an overemotional… God, what were you to him? For what felt like the hundredth time since you’d arrived, you wondered what you were doing here? What you wanted from him? “People always blame themselves during a break up. Sometimes it’s just no one’s fault.” 

“I know, I just…” You pushed your head back, staring up at the ceiling. “I just want all the answers. It felt like he was keeping things from me.” 

“Maybe he didn’t know how to say everything. I mean,” Seokjin shifted on the bed, the mattress dipped again. So did your stomach for some stupid reason. He was closer now. “The break up seems pretty sudden. How did it happen?” 

You swallowed, feeling a lump in your throat. You didn’t know if you were ready to relive it all. “A small argument just blew up. He’d been trying to hide it for a while. I saw, I just didn’t want to accept it.” Wilfully blind. Wilfully ignorant. Scared. 

You turned your head to look Seokjin’s way. “The other night at the party, he wanted to cancel things out. He was drunk so he wasn’t thinking straight, I don’t know…” You weren’t here to make excuses for him. It didn’t particularly make much sense to you, but at least he was being honest. “But maybe a part of him wanted to see if things could go back to normal if we, y’know…” You couldn’t say it out loud. You didn’t have to. Jin knew. 

“I see.” The furrowed brows told you he didn’t see much sense in that either, but he chose not to say anything. You felt the need to defend Yoongi anyway. Or to justify something…you didn’t know anymore. 

“He’s not a bad person, Jin, maybe I am…” 

“Oh, don’t start again,” he whined. He was joking. Or hiding the seriousness of his request with humour. 

“C’mon, every relationship I’ve been in has ended terribly. I need to start wondering if the problem is actually me. I mean, you can’t even call them realtionships.” You weren’t the relationship type. Maybe guys could see that right off the bat. Maybe you were unloveable. Insecurities that you could usually keep locked away were rearing their ugly head again. It was always the same after a break up. 

Seokjin’s eyes met yours, his gaze almost boring into you. He looked that way again. Uncharacteristically serious. He murmured your name. Strangely it comforted you immediately. Like the warmth of a hug. “It’s definitely not you. You’re amazing.” 

The warmth reached your heart. You smiled at him. “You mean that?” You thought he must. The sincerity was there in his voice. 

“Mmhmm.” He hummed, gaze lingering on you for a moment before he looked away. He swallowed. “Of course.” It felt he had wanted to say more. Or something different. You could push him. Ask him what it was, but what was the point? He’d said enough. Your chest felt a little lighter. Your insecurities at rest for now.

“Try to sleep now.” He told you instead, standing up to pull his covers back for you. “It’s getting pretty late. We can talk some more in the morning if you want.” He shrugged. “Or not. Totally up to you.” 

You smiled again and obeyed, climbing inside, surprised when the smell of him on his sheets comforted you further. No weirdness. No sadness. Your eyes got heavy as soon as your head sunk into his pillow and you couldn’t help but shut them. Your mind could happily play tricks on you at this point in time. You heard Seokjin switch off his tv and to your surprise the mattress dipped as he sat again, knees folded. His back hit the headboard and you could feel him right beside you. He didn’t say anything. Was he waiting until you fell asleep? 

You spoke into the dark, eyes still shut. It made it easier. “Thank you, Seokjin.” 

A pause. “For what?” 

He sounded surprised. You thought the thanks would be easy to understand. Thank you for the help tonight. But…there was something else too. You opened your eyes. It would probably be easier to say it against the darkness of your eyelids, but without the glow of the tv it was just as dark. “For being a good friend.” Nerves churned in your stomach. That one word. Friend. Why did it make you feel so scared? Maybe because he might not see you as that… “I feel like I’ve been taking you for granted lately.” 

“Shut up.” He chuckled quietly, but he sounded awkward. Embarrassed? “What do you mean?” 

“Well, it’s just–” You stopped, wondering what you were actually trying to say. It was getting late and you were tired now. Your mind was tired, maybe you were speaking without filter. “I cut you out of my life after things with Yoongi and I got serious…” 

“I get that though.” He replied, turning his face slightly to look at you. You just made out his features. Could he see you? “It had to be that way.” 

That much was true. Everything you had that wasn’t to do with sex had to be left behind too. You couldn’t have the rest without the sex. At least that’s what you’d thought. Now maybe friendship was what you needed… Why you were here… 

“Yeah, but now here I am, first signs of trouble and asking for help. Advice. I don’t know… Comfort.” The last word lingered. Accidentally. If he noticed he didn’t let on. However now you were on a roll. Thoughts possibly making sense. “You helped me out the night of the party. You were really nice. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it lately.” 

Seokjin stayed quiet, looking directly in front of him. Listening intently? Politely? You couldn’t tell. “I guess that’s why I came here tonight, because you make me feel better so easily.” It was true. You believed it with everything. Here, in his presence things didn’t seem that bad. Much better than if you’d been at home alone staring at the ceiling. Much better than if you’d been with Lina crying your eyes out. 

He scoffed lightly. “I feel like I haven’t been much help tonight though.” 

You shook your head, still staring up at him even though he wasn’t looking. “Just being around you is helpful. Trust me.” 

“Damn,” he laughed. “Stop inflating my ego.” This time he moved his head, eyes meeting yours.  

You couldn’t help but laugh too. It was only small, but it was something. You were okay. This wasn’t going to mess with you too long. You were strong. You could handle this break up. “And you always know how to make me laugh…” You mumbled, rubbing your face in his pillow, his scent filling your nostrils. You felt sleepy. Comforted. 

“I said stop,” he scolded jokingly. 

You laughed again. “Okay, okay…” Your eyes were closed now. You couldn’t see him anymore. Just feel him sat next to you. You hoped he stayed until you fell asleep. Some time past before you spoke again. You were half asleep, but just needed to say this one last thing. “Goodnight, Seokjin, and thank you for letting me stay the night.” 

You didn’t know how long it took for him to reply. Sleep was messing with your head. His voice sounded far away. “Anything for you… Goodnight…”

.

.

You were waking up. Eyelids now fighting to keep shut as daylight began to infiltrate them. You groaned quietly, finally giving up to look across at Seokjin’s alarm clock. 9am?! It was far too early to be waking up on a Sunday morning. Especially because you hadn’t fallen asleep until gone two. You groaned again, loudly now. Spiteful, because you wanted to wake him up too. He wasn’t sleeping in if you were wide awake, and you were most definitely not staying here rooted by his arms to the bed. 

You didn’t know how this had become the norm. Not the staying over, that had started long ago, but the cuddling?! That was a new thing. You’d both been so adamant to keep your distance during ‘sleep overs’ but well… Not that it really was cuddling. You were sure Seokjin just used you as a pillow most times. Like right now. His arms wound tightly around your waist, his face smushed into the crook of your neck. You wriggled around, purposely being annoying so he could wake the fuck up, and slowly it began to work. 

He intentionally rubbed his face into you, grumbling into your skin. His stubble began to irritate and you whined, using your hands to push at his arms, trying to get him to free you. He just squeezed harder, now chomping his teeth into your ear. He lips latched onto your earlobe and that was it. You kicked your feet manically. That fucker knew you were ticklish.

Chuckling, he steeled himself behind your body and pulled his head back. Your legs slowly came to a stop at the reprieve, a little out of breath. “Good morning.” He hummed.

“Mmhphf.” 

“Christ, someone really isn’t a morning person…” He was back against your neck now, but instead of teasing his lips brushed down you lightly. You couldn’t help it, something dipped and stirred in your gut. It just irritated you more. 

“I am,” you griped. “Just not when I’m being used as a real life body pillow.” 

He froze for a second before squashing you onto your back, one of his legs hooking over yours to just make you even more pinned to the bed. “But you’re comfy,” he whined, head now against your chest, cuddling into your boobs. “Need to work on your anime girl tits though.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” you exclaimed, whacking his shoulder, but couldn’t help but laugh. He was such a fricking idiot. 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He used both his hands to push your boobs together to emphasise your cleavage and shoved his face into it, humming loudly. “I love your boobies.”

“Ew.” You wrinkled your nose, pushing him away, but somehow you found your lips attached to his. No idea how. No idea how morning breath didn’t seem to be an issue anymore. And honestly no idea how this was what had become of you now. Kissing without reason. Seokjin wasn’t even hard against your hip. He wasn’t kissing you because he wanted something. What a strange idea. 

His mouth found your neck again, tongue warm, licking and swirling around languidly. One of his palms held your waist, fingers slipping under your tank top, tickling the underside of your boob. Only this time it wasn’t infuriating. Well, infuriating in another way, yes. You couldn’t help it. Your body’s natural reaction. You fidgeted against him, desperate to be touched more. 

“Horny, are we…?” He whispered, lips sticky, breath puffing against your jaw. 

“Not horny, are we?” You countered back immediately, nudging your hip into his crotch. 

Seokjin chuckled at how put out you sounded, nudging you back. “Give him a break. He had to work hard last night…” 

You pulled a face. “Please stop talking like your dick is a person.” But that was true. You had fucked eagerly last night. Maybe a little too eagerly. You could feel the soreness, but like an addict you still craved for more. Even it was just a small orgasm. Any way Seokjin wanted to please you. You were still naked from the waist down, underwear lost somewhere under his bed, so that made things easier. 

“Hey,” he burst. “He has feelings too, y’know.” You rolled your eyes but he was continuing.  “And anyway, what about me? The person attached to the dick? I always go ignored.” 

Such a hard life for Kim Seokjin. Your heart bled. “What are you? Dick first, then human?” 

He grumbled, face closer to yours as he shifted on his elbow. “Feels like it.” 

You may have gone for the kiss first. It was hard to tell, but you tugged on his bottom lip as you cooed. “Diddums. Shouldn’t have that horse dick in your pants then.” 

He cried out at the unfairness. “As if I asked God to bless me with huge cock. I’ve been used for it ever since Lee Yumi took my virginity on prom night.” 

“Oh, my god,” you whined weakly, not quite believing your ears. Knowing Seokjin he was probably being a little serious. Hard done by in life because of his monster dick. What a sob story. You were going to say exactly that but then you felt Seokjin’s hand trail down to your pelvis, and well, after that it was very hard to think straight. 

“Better make this pussy purr some other way,” he feigned a sigh, thumb toying with your clit, and this time you laughed sincerely. Whatever, you found the shit he came out with funny. Sue you. 

He slipped a finger inside you easily, knuckle up as he took his time exploring before he twisted it around. You were still a little wet from the night previous, could easily take his cock with little to no warmup, so he added another digit, watching your chest as your boobs jiggled for him. Your breath was caught in your throat, having to hold it just to keep any moaning at bay. You doubted Sandeul would want to be woken up by the sounds of Seokjin fingering you. He’d gone to sleep to your moans anyway, because no matter how hard Seokjin tried to mute them, telling you to shove your face into his pillow, it did not work. Your shame meter was at an all time low. Not when the pleasure one was off the scale every time Jin got his hands on you. 

Suddenly you felt fresh air hit your chest, snapping you out of your thoughts just to look down and see Seokjin’s mouth latching onto one nipple. You couldn’t hold it, most definitely forgot, moaning loudly as his tongue flicked against the hardened nub, wrist snapping furiously between your legs. He moaned too, enjoying your reaction and you watched him intently, mouth open. His eyes were still sleepy and pillow – or should you say your shoulder bone – marks marred his cheeks. He looked cute, but also this was hot. Like really hot, as he watched you too. You could cum like this. Sensory overload, and your hands reached for his headboard, arching your back a little as your breasts raised into his face. He cupped the one in his mouth, giving it a squeeze as he pulled back, fingers slowing down. 

“Fuck. Someone says hi.” He rushed his words, chin wet where he’d slobbered all over your tit. He moved and pressed his crotch into yours. He was hard in his boxers. It felt good against your clit. “I can’t keep soft when you look at me like that.” He admitted breathlessly. “You literally own my dick.” 

You scoffed, greatly amused, and felt his fingers slide out of you. “Good to know,” you quipped, watching him flip onto his back, hands seconds away from ripping down his boxers. Sometimes you were in a bind at how hot he was. In nothing but his underwear, cock very much visible against the black cotton, and chest, well, chest out. You were sure your attraction had only gotten deeper through time. That’s why you could never get enough. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you hoped he felt the same. 

“Can it do other things? Like pee for me and make me breakfast?” You asked, good at distracting yourself with other pressing issues. Now that the pleasure had stopped you were very aware of how full your bladder felt. Plus, breakfast was always good on a Sunday morning. 

His hands stopped, band of his underwear snapping tight against the skin, and chuckled lowly. “It can’t piss for you, but if you hurry up and go now, we can get at it really quick when you come back,” –a lovely thrust of his hips for emphasise, of course– “and then i’ll make you something to eat. How does that sound?” 

“Okay,” you agreed. Probably too high pitched and too cute for you, but whatever, the plan sounded good. You were still surprised Seokjin could cook. You would never forget that time he cooked you the best carbonara you’d ever tasted after he’d found out you hadn’t eaten all day because of an assignment that was due in. 

You grabbed for his t-shirt at the end of his bed and shoved it on. “Be right back.” You jumped over him to get off the bed, quicker to the door that way and squealed when he smacked your ass playfully, a ‘better had’ calling after you as you dashed foolishly to the bathroom still half naked, hoping you wouldn’t bump into the ever-suffering roommate…

.

.

Your mind was playing tricks on you. Memories dreamlike as you slowly began to wake up. For a moment, still half asleep, Seokjin’s scent drowning your senses, you wondered if you were still back there? The present didn’t exist, this was the present. You were hooking up with Seokjin, spending the night in his bed like you did regularly. However, slowly, as you opened your eyes, sunlight now flooding his bedroom, you began to remember the events of last night… Shit. 

Your argument with Yoongi, which seemed so petty now, but had rapidly morphed into something else. Something so serious things would never go back to normal. You had broken up. You were single. What an odd thought. Yesterday when you’d woken up, gone to class, gone for lunch with Lina, you were somebody’s girlfriend. Yoongi’s. Now it was all gone. It didn’t feel real. 

It took you a moment to work out how you ended up here. At Seokjin’s place, in his bed… You recalled the sudden urge to see him and how you’d rushed over just to find him with Jemma. Oh, God. You really had ruined whatever was going on last night. You felt fresh embarrassment wash over you. You were an idiot, and Seokjin was too kind to tell you to go home. What had you been searching for from him? You were still clueless, and instinctively, you brushed your foot out against the mattress, searching for something. Him? You were met with nothing. As if he’d have spent the night in the same bed as you. 

You rolled onto your back, checking his side of the bed. The covers were creased where he’d sat last night, waiting for you to fall asleep, but after that he must’ve gone. You’d kicked him out his own bed. What an idiot you felt. 

Ever so slowly you sat up, knowing you had to get up eventually. Face the music. You let yourself linger a little as you walked towards the door, feeling weird knowing this was probably definitely the last time you’d be in Seokjin’s room. Your heart was still heavy after last night and every little thing was managing to squeeze at it. You were stupid. 

You found him straight away, in the centre room, stood drying his hair with a towel. He must’ve just gotten out the shower. His skin was still a little flushed with the heat, white t-shirt spotted with water droplets. “Morning,” he smiled when he saw you, balling up the towel in his fist and throwing it to the couch. 

He didn’t seem awkward but you still felt it running through your veins. You stayed by the doorway, giving him a coy greeting back. “Morning. Where did you sleep last night?” 

“Couch,” he shrugged, before laughing. “I know for a fact Deul wouldn’t want me in his bed.” 

You tried to laugh along, but you felt too guilty. He could’ve just used his own bed, you wouldn’t have cared. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” he reassured you. “It’s comfier than it looks, and besides, you wouldn’t have appreciated the top to toe.” His plan to try and make you laugh worked. You’d give him that. He watched you and smiled. “Do you feel better this morning?” 

His question brought you back to reality. Slight laughter couldn’t bring permanent happiness. The realisation wasn’t fun. You guessed you’d be having those a lot from now. Until you got over the situation. Over Yoongi, over the insecurities that were just waiting to rear their ugly head again. You shrugged passively. “Kinda. Probably because nothing seems real.” You were still expecting a good morning text from Yoongi. Still expecting him to call you and tell you to get your cute ass around his place for some extreme cuddling. Even the memory stabbed at your heart. Everything was unfair. If you didn’t love him like that, why did everything hurt so much? 

“You gonna talk to Lina later?” Seokjin’s voice burst you out of your devastation bubble. Fuck. Lina. You’d forgotten about that, and you groaned inwardly. You’d have to relive the break up all over again. “It may help. Get a girl’s opinion…” He trailed off, cringing at himself. “I don’t know, I’m talking shit. What I’m trying to say is, she’d probably be better at this than me.” 

You smiled. “I’ll call her.” Poor Seokjin. He’d tried his best after being put in the worst predicament possible, and you would be forever grateful. Despite what he believed; he had helped you immensely. God knows what garbage you were babbling last night. You’d soon remember later on and do your own fair share of cringing. 

As it went, he was about to prematurely remind you of one thing anyway. He murmured your name once silence had seeped between you two. He sounded cautious. Maybe embarrassed. “I was thinking about what you said…about the…threesome.” Oh, God. What had you said? It was late last night, your mind muddled after everything. “I’m sorry about all that. Maybe it shouldn’t have happened… I…” He paused, struggling to phrase something. “I regret it too.” 

“You do?” Your voice didn’t sound like yours again. Taken by such surprise you felt your head spinning, something sinking to the pit of your stomach. You hadn’t said anything about regretting it. The night had happened and you’d enjoyed it, not really giving it second a thought until things between Yoongi and you began to change. Last night you hadn’t meant it like that. He’d misunderstood. You’d meant, if Yoongi was the one for you, you wouldn’t have wanted another guy like that. You wouldn’t have wanted Seokjin again. You didn’t regret it. You were adamant. Maybe the thought had crossed your mind these past few weeks, but hearing Seokjin say the same right now…that hurt. You would never regret anything spent with him. 

“Y-yeah,” he stammered. Maybe he heard the surprise in your tone. He gave a small shrug, not looking you in the eyes. “Well… it was a stupid idea. I don’t really know what I was thinking. Well… I did at the time.” 

“And that was?” It felt weird to speak so candidly about the threesome. It was almost like a forbidden subject between Yoongi and you. But you’d like to know what was going through Seokjin’s head at the time. 

He stared at you this time. Almost staring you down his gaze was so intense. “I wanted you to want me again.” You froze. You weren’t expecting that. “I was an asshole. A jealous idiot. I thought I was better than him.” He continued, his words coming easier now, as if he was relieved to finally get them out. “But I saw the way you looked at one another. I realised you really liked him.” 

A confession, but not in the traditional sense. It wasn’t supposed to be romantic. He was just explaining how he’d felt and what and happened. You really had liked Yoongi. You still did. That wouldn’t go away over night, but that didn’t mean you hadn’t liked Seokjin when you guys were hooking up. You had. It was just a different feeling… Else why would you have continued going back there? What you and Seokjin had was good. It was different, but it was good. You were much happier back then anyway. Like you said, all your relationships turned to shit eventually but not with the man standing in front of you. You knew you were together in the non-traditional sense, but he was still the only one who had never hurt you, and maybe you’d put him on a pedestal. That’s why you were a little hurt when you found out about Sohee. It was a selfish of you. That you were still holding onto him… 

That’s why you’d turned up at his door last night. It finally made sense. You couldn’t let him go. 

It seemed like he hadn’t been able to let you go either. That’s why the threesome had happened. Maybe if you were able to think long and hard on it, you’d blame yourself. After all, you were the one that ended things so abruptly to begin something serious with Yoongi. Perhaps not the end of the world, but those last couple of weeks with Seokjin had been weird and tense. It seemed at times he knew you were distracted, growing bored and distancing yourself from him, but he’d held on until you’d said the words. There had been little to no communication between the two of you. You hadn’t even told him about Yoongi. God knows how he’d found it out. You still wondered that, with hindsight. In a way you’d been incredibly selfish. 

“We all fucked up I guess.” It hurt to know he regretted that night, but you understood. You couldn’t tell him how to think. He smiled sadly, nodding shortly afterwards. It made you wonder if he wanted you say something else. But what? Instead you cut the distance between you both, walking towards the sofa. The wine glasses were still there. He hadn’t had a chance to clear them away. 

“Speaking of,” you motioned towards them with your finger. “I ruined your date last night. Don’t try to lie to me.” You rushed the last bit, seeing his mouth open, ready to dispute you. It wouldn’t work. “I saw the dishes in the kitchen. You cooked for her.” It was supposed to leave your mouth as a question but it sounded more like an accusation. Your displeasure for the other girl was hard to hide. You felt guilty. Seokjin was free to like whoever, you just thought she wasn’t a very nice person, that was all. Not that you would tell him that, of course. 

“Yeah, it was nothing.” He shook his head as he insisted. 

He was still trying to make you feel less guilty? You chuckled; tone friendlier. “Kim Seokjin dates now? Has romantic dinners now?” You must’ve missed that transformation… It was such an odd concept to think about. Kim Seokjin, the guy who had never had a girlfriend going on dates. What had changed? In the darkest, most insecure recesses of your mind you wondered how come he’d never wanted to take that plunge with you? You guessed that was the heartbreak talking… 

“No.” He was adamant. Okay, maybe you’d misread the situation… “I just… It’s stupid and I don’t know.” He was shaking his head again, laughing quietly. He picked the glasses from the coffee table to distract himself and walked towards the kitchen. 

“No, come on. Tell me,” you urged. You weren’t pushing him, it just seemed like something was playing on his mind. You wanted to be there for him. Just like he’d been there for you. It was only fair. You followed closely behind him. 

“You really want to know?” He asked, turning his head to look at you as he ran the liquid down the sink. He sounded unsure, but you nodded eagerly. Maybe you wouldn’t like the answer, but oh well. It’s probably what you deserved. 

He took a deep breath, sighing lightly, reluctantly, but spoke after a moment. “Everyone around me has hooked up permanently. Sandeul is always over his girl’s place, Namjoon… I even think Hoseok has been seeing the same girl for weeks now… and you…” He trailed off, gaze meeting yours. He swallowed. “Well at least…before that party and your argument with him, I thought you guys were really happy and shit. I thought maybe I should try it out.” 

Your gut felt heavy again. He meant Yoongi. He thought Yoongi and you were happy and wanted that for himself? You didn’t know how to feel. An overwhelming sadness filled you. Similar to last night only this was unexplainable. 

“With Jemma?” You couldn’t help but ask. You weren’t judging… You just couldn’t help but compare yourself to her. 

He upturned his shoulder quickly, filling up the sink, ready to dunk the dishes in. “She’s been messaging me. She told me she liked me at that party.” He hesitated before the next part but decided to share anyway. “We even kissed. I just thought I’d give it a go.” 

That party? The one where you’d argued with Yoongi? The one where you’d embarrassingly cried in front of Seokjin? The one he’d walked you him from? Where he’d politely declined your kiss and then went back to that party… Back to kiss Jemma instead. Fuck. You were losing it. Seokjin didn’t owe you anything. He was free to do whatever he wanted, with whoever he wanted. 

“Do you like her too?” You were unstoppable. But you just needed to know this one thing. 

His brows knitted together as he thought, forearms submerged in dish water. It seemed like such an odd scene. You interrogating him in his kitchen as he washed plates. “Not like that. Well, not like anything really.” The joy that filled you was selfish. You tried your best to steel your expression.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m kind of thankful you showed up at my door.” He continued, sounding guilty. “She sort of invited herself to stay over, and I didn’t know how to say no.” He rinsed the last plate, sticking it in the drying rack and pulled the plug. You watched him dry his hands. What would’ve happened if you’d never turned up? Would he have slept with her? 

“I think the dating should be assigned to actual girls I like.” He chuckled awkwardly, before scoffing, interrupting your thoughts. “She even brought wine. Me? Drinking wine? It tasted vile!”

“I was wondering what all that was about,” you laughed weakly. Seokjin was not a wine drinker. You knew that. 

He laughed along, making his way through the living area again. You followed. You really should get going. You’d imposed on him for too long, but still you lingered. Although, Seokjin didn’t seem in a rush to get rid of you either. 

“Do you have class today?” He asked, picking his backpack up from the side of the sofa to rifle through it, searching for something. 

“I have a workshop this afternoon but I don’t think I’ll go.” You replied. The idea of being in a room with a bunch of people didn’t seem so appealing right now. “Tomorrow I’ll start fresh.” You at least needed 24 hours to decompress. “What about you?” You added, seeing him pull a piece of paper out of a notebook and sit down. 

“I have one in an hour,” he said. “I totally left this until last minute.” He motioned to the paper, laughing. 

You smiled. “Oh. Okay. I should be going anyway…” You should definitely leave him to it. He needed to finish getting ready, do homework and it took about fifteen minutes to walk to college from here. Five if he was driving, which he never did. Heath and fitness was his passion. (At least your shitty sense of humour hadn’t totally died…) 

He stood up quickly when you made motions to leave, one of his knees whacking the underneath of the coffee table. He hissed before rushing out his words. “You don’t have to leave. It’s not really an important class. I could skip. We could get lunch?” 

You were pretty sure he was pitying you now. Why else was he being so nice? You appreciated it but you didn’t want him to feel like he had to do all this. He’d already done enough. You smiled, shaking your head. “No, it’s fine. I don’t feel that hungry but thanks for the offer.” 

“Only if you’re sure?” He pressed, following behind you as you walked towards your shoes, pushing them on. 

“I think I’m just gonna have a bath. I’m sure I have a bath bomb left over from Christmas gifts or something…” You said, chuckling a little. 

He nodded his head, looking like he wanted to try and persuade you more but kept quiet. You opened the door, feeling a little awkward. It had never been like this between you. Maybe it was the uncertainty of not knowing when you’d see him next… “Thank you again, Seokjin. I really appreciate it, and I’m sorry for just turning up here like this.” 

“Shut up,” he said lightly, holding the door open for you. “You’re welcome here anytime.” Your heart did a little jump. He meant that? You smiled in returned. “Drive safely. I’ll message you tonight to see how you’re doing? If you want?” 

He meant it. 

.

.

On your drive home you started to feel guilty. You’d deleted Seokjin’s number along with the video he’d taken of you that night…during the threesome. At the time it had seemed the right thing to do. You had been with Yoongi, sure things were only growing from strength to strength and reminders of Seokjin were something you didn’t need. You didn’t want to continue messaging him and you didn’t want to sleep with him again. You couldn’t be anything else, so it made perfect sense. You wanted to show Yoongi you were serious. Not that you ever told him. You didn’t bring up Seokjin at all, and neither did he. He had become a forbidden subject. 

See? This was why you shouldn’t be alone. Your brain had too much time to think. It was still buzzing when you arrived back home. Your bed, unmade, just reminded you of last night, and your chest grew so tight you couldn’t breathe for a moment, the tears welling up in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You needed to get a grip of yourself and clean up. To eradicate the memories of last night. 

You listened to music as you went but tracks kept coming on shuffle that reminded you of Yoongi. A double check at your phone showed you that it was a rec playlist he’d made for you not too long ago. There was no escape. Not even when you gave up vacuuming to run that bath you’d been longing for. Yoongi’s disposable razor was on the sink, toothbrush in the pot. Everywhere you looked there were little reminders of him. It shocked you how much stuff he had at your place. You’d never realised how deeply entwined he had become in your life. That was sure to make the break up harder. His scent still lingered in your tiny apartment and you just thanked your lucky stars that the year you’d had class with him was over. You didn’t think you could handle that. Seeing him so casually. 

Lina text you just before you could climb into the water but you ended up ignoring it. She had sent you a screenshot, some conversation with the guy she’d started seeing since that party. That stupid party you should never have gone to. She was cooing over how cute he was, and while you could easily reply with something simple, you just really weren’t in the mood. You knew you had to tell her about the break up asap, but just the thought made you feel sick with dread. You’d tell her and she’d probably tell your other friends to make it easier on you and then you’d receive half a dozen, maybe more, ‘i’m sorry’ messages. You’d have to make it official on facebook, then everyone else would see it, and oh god, your parents. You’d have to tell them. They’d met Yoongi once or twice when they’d come to your apartment uninvited. You’d never been one to introduce boyfriends to them, but with Yoongi it just felt right. You were proud that you could nab such a great guy, and for the first time in your life you wanted to show off. Your parents seemed to like him, and now you had to tell them he’d broken things off. How embarrassing. Would they think there was something wrong with you?  

Your mind drifted to Seokjin as you sat in the water. Yes, you were embarrassed you’d laid it all on him like that, but it surprised you how easily you had confided in him. He’d never really seen that side of you and you’d definitely never seen the kind and thoughtful side he’d shown you last night or the night of that shitty party. Not that you didn’t think he wasn’t kind. You wouldn’t have continued sleeping with him all that time if he wasn’t a nice person. It’s just you’d never really needed him like that. You hadn’t needed him to be sweet when you were only there to fuck him. But you guessed sometimes he was. Like when you used to have stress migraines from college work and felt sick from the burger grease at work that seemed to absorb into your skin. They were perhaps trivial problems, but he was there when you needed him. It made you feel selfish again. He never used to confide his problems in you, because of course he had them. No person could live life stress free… Maybe you just weren’t that type of person to him… That made you feel sad, your emotions a mess. 

Did all that really matter though? He probably wouldn’t even message you tonight. And that was ok. You’d told him your thanks already, sincerely and gratefully, and that was it. You wouldn’t bother him like that again. He’d probably never be the friend that you wanted him to be. You liked being around Seokjin but if it couldn’t happen, then it couldn’t happen. You’d have stick to being some type of strange acquaintance. You’d say hello to him if you saw him around, maybe you’d have a small conservation, you’d like his posts on social media, but that was probably it. 

God, you were losing people left and right. But then again… You’d done that with Seokjin. You were the one that cut him from your life. Not him. 

Yoongi rung you sometime late afternoon. You’d almost forgotten he said he would call you, and for a split second you wondered if you should just ignore it. You were sat on your sofa, smelling lovely, but still miserable as hell, watching something new on Netflix. Not picking up seemed really harsh, but his name flashing on your screen with a picture of him pulling a face in the background taunted you. You were mad. You were allowed to be angry and hurt, and annoyed, and whatever else you felt at your now ex boyfriend. He’d given up on you both. 

You answered with a sharpness in your tone, but one second of hearing Yoongi’s gruff voice down the line broke you a little. He didn’t sound too good, like he hadn’t had any sleep, groggy and broken. You said as much, and he laughed humourlessly– was it that obvious? He asked how you slept after he’d left and you panicked. You should have told him about where you went last night. He deserved to know, but you were a coward, too scared. Not wanting him to misunderstand, get angry or hurt. You had no solid answers for him, and that would just make it look worse. So you left out the detail about Seokjin’s place and told him you slept okay. Because you had. It had taken you a while to switch off, but when you had, sleep came for you quickly. You wondered if he sensed you were keeping something from him. You had never been good at lying, but he didn’t seem to notice something was up. He was glad you got some sleep. That just made you feel guiltier. 

He asked you how were feeling, what you’d been up to, and the small talk just made you feel worse. Somehow you ended up begging him to come over, just so you could talk some more, but he turned you down. That would only make things worse. You fought him a little, told him it wouldn’t – you even raised your voice, ranting at him, and he just listened silently, letting you rid your frustrations until you were were crying quietly, too sad to stay angry. You knew it wasn’t his fault, nor yours, the situation was just shitty. Unfair. 

“Please don’t cry,” he asked you quietly, but you thought he was crying too. He kept sniffing loudly. You could hear him wiping his nose on his sleeve every now and then. There was really nothing you could do. It was over. Yoongi said he’d come pick up his stuff in a few days when you asked him about it. It was probably best to have a little breather from the situation so he’d message you when he was ready. You agreed. You didn’t think you could handle seeing him take all his stuff away so soon. Not when it hadn’t had time to sink it properly. And that was that. There wasn’t much else to say. You could probably ask more questions, but what was the point? It wouldn’t change anything. He’d checked in on you, like he said he would and now there was nothing else left. There was no point prodding something that was now dead. 

You said goodbye and hung up with a heavy heart, unable to stop yourself from clicking on your photo album to scroll through your photos. You had lots of him. Candid shots mostly, ones he didn’t know you were taking and some he’d blatantly posed for like the secret dork he was. There were lots of you together too. You both looked so happy it was hard to understand where it all went wrong. A photo wasn’t supposed to lie, so how had it turned into this? You couldn’t delete them though. You tried with one, instantly regretting it and restoring it immediately. It seemed like such a shame to throw away all those memories... Such a shame to throw away the relationship…  

On your couch was where you spent the rest of the evening, dozing in between watching the tv, and you were half asleep when your phone began to ring again. You reached for it quickly, a small part of you expecting it to be Seokjin even though he’d said he’d message you. You groaned when you saw it was Lina. You couldn’t ignore her. Not again. She’d be around, kicking down the door in minutes, probably thinking you’d gotten abducted seeing as you’d been AWOL the whole day. You took a deep breath and slid your thumb across the screen. It was now or never. “Hello?” 

“What the hell are you playing at?!” 

That was not what you’d been expecting. Lina half yelling down the phone at you. “Hello to you too,” you quipped, a little flummoxed. She couldn’t be that mad because you’d left her on read. 

“Don’t joke around,” she told you. Almost breathless, slightly hysteric. “Please don’t tell me you fucked Jin again?!” 

“WHAT?” You swore your neighbours heard you, you exclaimed so loud. Why and how did she think that? “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Oh, accidentally fell on his dick then?” 

Her tone was accusing and sarcastic, and you were already crabby and tired, miserable…to name a few. If she wasn’t going to explain herself you’d just hang up. “Lina,” you warned.  “I’m not in the mood. Stop being so cryptic. Can I ask why you think that?”

She sighed, but spoke a lot calmer when she continued, probably unsure due to your reaction. “I overheard Jemma today.” Fuck. You immediately sat up straighter, something heavy settling in your gut. She seemed to like having conversations super loud in public. “She said you showed up at his door in the middle of the night and that he kicked her out to let you in.” 

“Oh, for god–” You stopped yourself, knowing it wasn’t worth the energy. She was all wrong anyway. Whatever she thought had happened when she left wasn’t true. That was how rumours started. “It wasn’t really in the middle of the night and it was nothing like that!” You took a deep breath, letting your anger seep away. “I didn’t sleep with Seokjin. She has no idea what she’s talking about.” 

“Oh.” Was all Lina said, probably feeling like an idiot. Probably feeling guilty for believing all that. She said your name. “Damn. I’m sorry. I knew you wouldn’t do something like that to Yoongi, but where Jin’s concerned… Never mind. Just ignore me.” 

At the mention of Yoongi’s name you instantly remembered what you had to confess instead. You were so distracted you didn’t have time to try and understand her strange ending comment. She was bombarding you with questions anyway, fuzzing up your mind. 

“Why were you there then? And where were you today?! I messaged you and you never replied. I thought you’d died!” 

Dramatic as always. “Yeah, sorry about that… I had… I’ve had a shitty 24 hours.” 

“How come?” She asked, sounding concerned. You definitely sounded weird, voice already wobbling. You hesitated and she couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m worried! Please tell me.” 

You took a deep breath and swallowed. Your words echoed down the line. “Yoongi broke up with me last night.” 

That was it. It sent her into a state of shock. For five minutes she kept alternating between ‘what?’ and ‘noo’. You were too upset to continue in the beginning so you just let her carry on, having a conversation with herself until you were ready to assure her it was in fact true. You apologised for not telling her sooner, but you were embarrassed, to which she insisted you never had to be. She didn’t press, but you knew she was eager to know what had happened, so you explained. You hated going into detail. You hadn’t even gone into it this much with Seokjin, but it was Lina. She was your best friend, the one you could tell everything too. She’d been there for you through the backlog of shitty break ups in the past, so this was no different. She let you have a little cry as you explained about the stupid argument that had turned into something more. How Yoongi had said he didn’t love you, couldn’t love you. She asked if you loved him and you cried a little harder when you replied no. For some reason you felt guilty, like you’d led him on. Lina told you to be quiet. Sometimes that’s how relationships worked. They couldn’t all end in love. No one had led anyone on, the relationship had just run its course. 

She was probably correct, but it didn’t really make it any better. What was the point in it all, if that was how you were always going to end? It seemed unfair and cruel. Also made you wonder if you’d ever find love? You knew you were still young, but you should have at least experienced something like that by now, however innocent… Maybe that’s why you were so sad...

Lina asked if you wanted her to come over but you refused. It was getting late and she had an early shift tomorrow. You’d be fine for tonight but maybe tomorrow evening she could come around and bring some cake from the place she worked at? She said yes, of course, already mentally choosing flavours, but just as you were about to hang up after saying your goodbyes she suddenly remembered something… Much to your dismay. 

“Wait… How come you were at Jin’s place then?” 

“I… uh…” You began, unsure of how to continue. “I don’t really know the answer.” You hoped that was enough to satisfy her. Of course you had a multitude of potential reasons why you turned up at his door, the most recent one maybe making the most sense, but telling her that would just complicate the matter. She wasn’t Seokjin’s biggest fan, so of course she would be naturally suspicious. Especially because you’d ran to him immediately after the break up. She might not have said it out loud, but you could sense it. 

Feeling oddly defensive over him, you tried to dispel her doubts even more. “Lina, he was really sweet. I was an idiot for turning up at his door unannounced but he was so nice about it.” You thought about adding that you stayed the night, but she hadn’t asked that, so you thought it best to stay quiet. For now. 

“Yeah, bet he was.” As dubious as ever. “I’m surprised he didn’t try comforting you with his dick…” 

“He would never. We’re past all that now.” The word comfort lingered in your mind though. Last night you had been after just that and in all honesty, you didn’t know if you would’ve turn him down if he’d offered… It was a horrible thought to have, and you were glad Seokjin hadn’t tried anything, but it still existed in a part of your brain you’d rather not dwell on… 

Lina let it slide soon after that. She trusted you, but she didn’t trust Seokjin, that was a running theme, but she said goodnight, promising to see you tomorrow with cake. You felt a little better after that, lighter. A problem shared with your best friend was a problem halved, but yet… There was one thing you had been keeping from her. 

The threesome. You had never known how to slip it into conversation at the time, also quite afraid if it would change her opinion on Yoongi, so you’d just kept silent. Back then it hadn’t mattered, but now Yoongi and you were over things were different. The threesome played a part in the break up, at least in your opinion it did, and you couldn’t leave that out tomorrow when Lina came over. You needed to tell her. 

You were just wondering when things would get simpler, when your doorbell buzzed. You jumped, not expecting it at all, and your first thought was that Lina hadn’t listened to you and was at your door, but she wouldn’t have been able to drive here so quickly, so the next person you thought of was Yoongi. Maybe he’d changed his mind, or maybe you were pathetic. You stood up pretty quickly anyway, rushing to the door, despite your better judgement and looked through the peephole. Your stomach did a little flip when you saw who it actually was. In shock more than anything…or at least, that’s what seemed to be the logical reason. 

You sprung the door open. “Seokjin?!” 

“Surpriseee. The one and only,” he sang, before smiling a little and lowering his gaze to the floor. He seemed slightly nervous. “I know I said I’d message you but well… I was going to the gym but then thought fuck it and got food instead—and then I thought maybe you’d want some?” He finally looked your way again, waiting for your reply. You noticed the brown bag bunched in his hand. “Sorry if it’s too late to eat. I did try calling but your phone was engaged…” 

You shook your head. “No, no, it’s fine. C-come in.” In all honesty you were still a little shocked. Seeing Seokjin at your door, him bringing you food. You’d resigned yourself to not seeing him again for a while. You’d resigned yourself for one little ‘hope you’re ok’ text… Not this. This made you feel lighter, happier…   

He followed you inside and stopped by your couch. You took a moment to glance over him. Habit more than anything, just to see what he was wearing. Sweatpants and a long sleeved top that made him look broader than usual, (impossible, but true). Both black. A red baseball cap on his head. “I actually haven’t eaten much all day so take out sounds good,” you smiled. Your stomach rumbling a little now that you could smell the food. “What is it?”

“Chinese.” He answered, sitting down and placing the bag on your coffee table. He looked inside and began pulling containers out. “I got a mixture but remembered your favourite. It’s still sweet and sour chicken, right?” 

“Right,” you chuckled, surprised he’d remembered. “I’ll get plates.” Your kitchenette was to the back of him, so you took the time to wipe your eyes, making sure there were no stray tears hanging about from your phone call with Lina. You also hoped they weren’t red and obvious, but if Seokjin had already noticed he didn’t say anything. You pulled out two plates from the cupboard as he spoke again. “You don’t mind me turning up though?” 

You turned around, seeing him doing the same to catch a look at you. You shook your head. “No. Not at all.” That seemed to satisfy him and he smiled, turning back to start opening the food up. You noticed the bottle of coke on the table and pulled out two glasses as well, making your way back to him. 

Seokjin shared the food out as opposed to helping yourselves and you poured the soda. The first bite was amazing. All you’d had today was a measly slice of toast and a yogurt, so it wasn’t surprising at how much better you felt with some good food in you. 

“What have you been doing today?” He asked after a moment. He sounded funny, a little too formal, like he was trying his best to sound and be natural but failing exponentially. You held back a giggle, not wanting him to feel self conscious, but he was also perched on the couch like he was too afraid to relax. You ended up breaking. 

“Seokjin, sit back. You’re making me nervous,” you chuckled. The noise sounded weird. Good weird, but weird. He looked at you with panicked eyes which just made you laugh even harder. “Come on, move,” you ordered, using your free hand to push him back. He obliged, now laughing along. “I’m not keeping you prisoner.” 

“I know you’re not,” he said quietly. Cutely. 

It was funny how things seemed so awkward between you two. Not bad awkward, just maybe a little nervous awkward. He seemed more nervous than you. You guessed that was from the turning up at your door randomly. But who cared, you’d done exactly the same to him last night. You were even now. You went to tell him that, but realised you hadn’t answered his previous question. You cleared your throat and shrugged. “I haven’t done much today. Started a new series on Netflix.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Want to put it on now?” 

You and Seokjin had watched The Office together at some point during your…hookups, so it brought back memories when you agreed. Sitting on your couch, eating, talking. You liked it. The company was very much appreciated, beat being alone. You filled him in on what the show was about and what he’d missed. You liked the sound of his laugh as he watched, it was comforting. He even offered to tidy the dishes away when you were finished, rinsing them clean for you. He sat back down after that, slightly hesitant as if he didn’t know if he should get going now. You didn’t really want him to leave yet, and besides, there was probably something he should know regarding Jemma’s loud and mistaken mouth… 

“I, er…” You began, taking a sip of your drink to busy yourself.  “I did end up telling Lina.”  

Seokjin smiled. “That’s good. What did she say?” 

A breath of laughter left you. “I think she was in shock more than anything. She was the one on the phone just now,” you explained. “Um…” Seokjin could sense your hesitation and he tilted his head, silently urging you to continue. “She heard something…” 

“Heard what?” He frowned, sounding puzzled and concerned. 

Damn. You were probably making this ten times more awkward. It was no big deal, Seokjin probably didn’t even give a shit, but you thought he should know regardless. “She saw Jemma today, heard her talking… She thought me and you were…” You paused purposefully, unable to spell it out, but your wide eyes hopefully explained it all. 

Seokjin stayed silent, but you could definitely tell by his expression he understood what you meant. Finally he spoke, gaze holding yours. “Both of them thought?” 

You nodded. “Jemma definitely did.” 

He sighed. “Shit, I’m sorry.” He apologised unnecessarily. “I text Jemma earlier telling her the date was nice but probably shouldn’t happen again. She didn’t message back. I guess I know why now…” 

“It’s not your fault. I was the one who showed up. I guess she was always bound to get the wrong idea.” Seokjin nodded, agreeing with you, and that’s when you realised something, groaning. “I hope it doesn’t get back to Yoongi.” You didn’t think their paths crossed, but she could know someone who was friends with him. It could quite easily happen…and you were suddenly regretful for not letting Yoongi know where you went last night. You’d pretty much lied to him…but then again, what did it matter? You were over now. Never getting back together. 

“I’ll call her. Tomorrow or something, I’ll let her know the truth so it doesn’t escalate.” Seokjin reassured you. 

“Thank you,” you smiled at him, chin in your palm. Somehow you’d curled your legs up onto the cushions, body angled towards him. He sat back further, legs stretching to rest his feet on the coffee table. He used to do that a lot when he was over. You guess old habits died hard. He hadn’t even noticed he’d done it now, a reflex almost. You watched him happily. 

“Have you heard from Yoongi today?” He asked, a little hesitantly, as if he was worried to ask. Scared of your reaction? 

“He called too. We talked some more… He’s picking up his stuff in a few days.” You thought that it would hurt more, saying it out loud again, but maybe you’d had practice with Lina. 

Seokjin glanced over at you, brows furrowed. “So it really is over?” He sounded surprised. “I thought maybe you guys would sort it out…” 

That was cute he was hopeful. You were quickly losing that, understanding the truth. Being realistic. “Jin, he doesn’t love me and will never love me. I don’t think it’s something we can sort out.” 

“And you don’t love him?” 

You watched him play with his hands in his lap. A nervous habit. He was slowly getting better at serious conversations. You’d need to compliment him on that soon. For now you just shook your head, meeting his eyes. There was nothing more to say about that. You changed the subject. “Lina’s coming over tomorrow. I think…I think I’m going to tell her about the threesome.” 

Seokjin looked surprised for a moment, maybe slightly red-faced at your frank wording. After treating it like it never happened for so long, it felt good for you to be so upfront with yourself, and that meant telling your best friend too. 

“You never did?” He asked and you shook your head. It was your secret. He scoffed. “That’ll go down like a lead balloon.” He probably wasn’t wrong. “But if you think it’s a good idea… and that you need her to know… Although,” he paused to shrug. “I’m kinda surprised you never said anything to her before.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you that surprised?” Seokjin chuckled, and you tilted your head, lowering your voice. “Did you tell anybody?” 

He shook his head. “Nah. I already said I wouldn’t, right? It wasn’t really my place.” It was a pretty strange thing to say. You, Yoongi and Seokjin were all involved equally. It concerned you all. You wouldn’t have minded at all if he’d confided in someone about that night. Even though Yoongi had wanted to keep it hush-hush. You hoped Seokjin knew that. You wanted to tell him, but the words wouldn’t come, and then he was speaking again. “You seem better today though… More yourself.” 

“I do feel better. It’s sunk in now, I think. Still feel a little strange though… Empty…but–but if I never loved him either I can’t really be heartbroken? Am I just feeling sorry for myself?” You didn’t mean to offload again and ask questions Seokjin didn’t know the answer to, but surprisingly he managed to give a pretty good insight. 

“I think,” he swallowed. “I think loving someone and being in love are two totally different things. You love Yoongi but you’re not in love with him? That doesn’t really matter though. You can still hurt.” He shrugged, probably thinking he was talking shit. He wasn’t. It made sense. “You’re allowed to feel however you want. You did just get broken up with after all.” 

You let his words sink in, smiling slightly, voice low once again as you teased him. “Philosophical.” 

He upturned his shoulder, sounding cocky, a grin on his face. “I had to take an elective.” You whined and pushed his shoulder. “No, serious,” he insisted. “That’s how I met Namjoon.” You burst out laughing, unsure why, it wasn’t even that funny, but he laughed along with you, a happy glint in his eyes as he watched you. 

“Hey…” He murmured, once your peals of laughter had died down. “About last night. I don’t know if you remember, you were pretty sleepy, but you said something…” Oh, God. Nervousness filled you slightly. What had you said? You tried to remember everything, but maybe you’d let something pass your mind… He sounded cautious when he continued. “You said that you thought you were the problem, and I just, I know I said it’s not you last night, but please, it really isn’t you. Don’t think that. Ever.” 

He sounded so stern you just nodded in response. Caught off guard by his kindhearted attitude. “Yeah. It’s okay.” You finally managed to reply, because it seemed like he needed one. “I think I was just upset and acting insecure.” 

“I mean, if every guy you’ve been involved with has hurt you one way or another, then it’s on them. Not you.” You appreciated what he was saying, surprised by the turn in conversation. It did make you feel better. To know there wasn’t something wrong with you. Seokjin cleared his throat, catching your attention again and you glanced at him. “And I’m sorry if I was ever one of them.” 

“What, Seokjin?” You gasped. “No, of course you weren’t!” 

“But with…Sohee…” He sounded reluctant to say her name. “I should’ve told you about her. I didn’t mean to keep it from you.” 

“It’s fine.” You reassured him. “You explained all that at the party. Honesty, it’s fine.” You repeated, seeing him shake his head. You were over the Sohee situation already. It was silly that you’d ever been upset over it. He’d had sex with her right at the beginning of your…thing… before things were officially unofficial in a way, and for that, you couldn’t be mad at him. It didn’t bother you now. There were bigger issues in your life. 

You opened your mouth again, not thinking too hard as you spoke because otherwise you’d chicken out. “Seokjin, you’re quite literally the only guy who hasn’t made me feel like shit, or cry, or whatever.” You sighed, your mind slipping back to one person… “I know Yoongi didn’t want to hurt me and I know he’s upset too. I get the situation is complicated and he’s not like the others but right now my heart really hurts when I think of him.” You hated seeing him as one of those guys. The ones that had shaped your views on love and relationships, and yeah, the situation this time was different, Yoongi wasn’t a bad guy, but it was still never supposed to end up like this. You weren’t supposed be left feeling so despondent 

“Yeah.” Seokjin agreed. “I understand what you’re saying. I guess it’s a horrible situation to be in and I shouldn’t judge him, but you’re the one I care about, not him, so if you want me to call him a flaming bag of shit, I will. Just give me the signal.” 

You couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh at his attempt to cheer you up. You appreciated it. Appreciated him, and he cared about you? That was sweet. You smiled warmly. “Thank you, Seokjin. I don’t understand why you’re being so nice to me.” 

“Am I not nice?!” He feigned outrage, as dramatic as ever. You giggled, whacking his shoulder. You’d missed him greatly. It was only now beginning to sink in. Just talking to him like this. You’d never really done it before, it was refreshing. 

“No, of course you are,” you reassured. “I just mean, why are you wasting your time with me?” 

He stared at you, a small smile on his face. “I missed you.” That simple. It felt good to hear he felt the same. “I know we don’t know what to call one another, given everything, but… I saw you as a friend back then too.” Your heart jumped. You’d been scared to call him a friend last night but it seemed he thought just like you. “You can tell me to fuck off if you like, but, well… we can get that friendship back?” He suggested. “Properly.” 

You stayed silent, in shock, not quite believing your ears. Maybe you didn’t have to let him go now… He mistook the silence, panicking. “I know it seems like I’m bouncing on an opportunity here, but I promise it’s not like that. I just think being friends will be fun.” 

“Fun?” You repeated, wrinkling your nose with a chuckle. “Maybe you’re right. I’d like to be your friend. I missed you too.” Maybe things weren’t so bleak. Maybe there was something good to come out of everything, and now you wouldn’t have to wonder when you’d see Seokjin again… 

“I am right,” he confirmed. “Always am.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t push it.” And then… “One confession though…” He cocked an eyebrow, curious and unsuspecting. You groaned, burying your face in your hands, feeling guilty. It was time to admit. “I need your number again. I deleted it.” 

There was a brief pause and then his voice was as loud as ever as he joked around. “You did?! Well, I can’t be having that. Where’s your phone?!” 

“I’m sorry,” you whined, reaching for your cell behind your back the same time he grabbed for it too. His hands cupped over yours as you looked up at him. His body was leant into you, the warmth instant, and you let him have the device, a small thank you leaving him, but no sooner had you felt it, the heat, it was gone along with him, his back against the couch once more. 

You watched him try your phone code, you forgot how he knew it already, still remembered it. He celebrated with a yes under his breath, quickly typing his number into your phone book. He handed it back to you with a smile. “Now you have no excuse. I expect a message every morning and night.” You groaned. He silenced you with a finger in the air. “I also have a test coming up Friday, so a good luck would be nice.” 

Rolling your eyes, you shot him a smirk. “In your dreams.” However, yeah, he probably would get that good luck message… That’s what friends were for, right? 

Written 2019-20. Reworked/Edited 2020 Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2020

#seokjin smut #bts smut #seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #floralseokjin:writings #fic:crystallised

[staytheb]

Soulmate Timer

Pairing: NU’EST′s Baekho x OC [Miseung] Genre: soulmate!au, slice of life, slight fluff Word Count: 3,464 Summary: In a world where one finds their soulmate through the telling of a timer, Miseung has met four of them and is awaiting the day she'll finally meet the last one, The Divine. He’ll be the one she’ll share the rest of her life with.

Warning: none, i think...

okay, so i did not forget about this! i just didn’t know how to start it and when i did, it kind of just stumped me  on how to write it out. but anyways, this one is a lovely request for the lovely Baekho and i hope this turned out fine! my first ever soulmate and timer AU! sorry if it took a long while to come out as things happened these past few months. also i tried to get it out before 2019 ended, but oh well, it’s here now!!! lol but anyways, yeah happy reading and kthxbai, Admin Lia~

In the world where Miseung lives, there's a particular timer that is sent to you after birth. The timer is engraved with your name, your birthday, the time of your birth, and a spot where there's an image of you that changes as you grow older. No one knows from where or from whom or how it even works, but each person is given one that tells them when they'll meet their five soulmates. It's a pretty big timer as there's a place for each of the soulmates. Those five soulmates are, The Friend, The Changer, The Lover, The Stranger, and The Divine.

Out of the five soulmates, The Divine receives an extra special indication. A tattoo-like image appears on your inner left wrist of roman numerals of the day and time when you locked eyes with each other. That's how you for sure know that you met your other half. So Miseung has already met four of the five and is awaiting the day she'll finally meet her destined soulmate where she'll spend the rest of her life with. The only thing is, she's seen and encountered him already, but she's just never personally have met him face to face just yet.

"Can't you stop sighing over there?" Miseung's best friend, Yeonjin, asked her as the two were chilling in Miseung's room as they had made plans to go out.

Yeonjin is the first soulmate that Miseung had met and Yeonjin turned out to be The Friend and vice versa. The two had met when they were like three years old when Yeonjin's family moved in right next door to Miseung's family. Of course at that time the two girls weren't that fond of one another as they didn't know how to react to the other due to their shy nature. Soon enough after one play date in the late afternoon the two instantly clicked and felt like they've known one another their entire life. They later discovered this moment through their parents a few weeks later when their Soulmate Timer for The Friend revealed an image of the two and the time clock itself stated 00:00 indicating that they had finally met.

"I'm not sighing." Miseung denied although she let out another deep sigh with Yeonjin rolling her eyes.

"Right, sure you weren't. So, are you gonna tell me or do I have to guess it out of you?"

"Um, I'll think about it." Miseung mused as Yeonjin shot her a knowing look.

"Usually that means later, right?"

"Mmhmm."

"Y'know, if you do it later than it becomes never."

"Wow, you really had to bring up that quote on me, didn't you?"

"Of course. Your Stranger Soulmate told you those words and I'm sure it's gonna stick with ya for the rest of your life."

"Yeah, like when I was in the seventh grade."

Miseung's second soulmate, The Stranger, was a little old lady that she happened to meet on the bus one early morning. The granny was a sweet person unlike what she's been used to. A majority of them usually travel in groups and would just spout out stuff from their past and make snarky remarks towards the younger generation. But this lady was traveling alone and kept to herself. Anyways, Miseung was traveling alone without Yeonjin and was going to school for her early lesson block. Miseung's parents decided that they wanted her to focus on school more and had set her up for extra lessons. Miseung wasn't thrilled about it, but what could she do against her parents' decisions. Anywho, Miseung had been looking out the window and unconsciously sighing the whole time.

The bus only had several people riding on it which was unusual, but maybe it was what fated had it for Miseung as the old woman asked what was on Miseung's mind. Miseung was shy at first, but something about the old lady made her calm and relax. The Stranger had a familiarity about her, but Miseung wouldn't know about that until later down the road. Anyways, Miseung voiced out her thoughts of the whole schooling and that her parents have been a bit more strict this time around than before. She admitted that she didn't want the early lessons or have them control her studies and hobbies, but decided to go with it as her parents were her parents. The older woman offered a piece of advice which would stick with Miseung for her whole life after that.

The granny told her that if she continued the way that she was and kept thinking the way that she did, then she would never be able to think for herself. That if she didn't do anything now about it, then all those laters would turn into nevers and that Miseung would miss out on all the chances that she could have taken. At first Miseung was confused and the elderly woman laughed and told Miseung that in due time she'll understand. Miseung never saw the granny again after that and it wasn't until the end of the week that Miseung understood and told her parents she didn't want the extra lesson and to just live life. Surprisingly, they agree and Miseung was relieved and happy for the first time in her life. The image of The Stranger was still etched in Miseung's Soulmate Timer, but the image was hard to make out and was the only picture to be black and white.

"Do it now. Sometimes later becomes never." Miseung stated with a soft smile before sighing as she admitted what was on her mind to her best friend.

"I was just reading Seungcheol's post about his engagement."

"Uh, huh. And why are you reading it?"

"It just popped up and Seungcheol messaged me the other day to invite me."

"So, you're gonna?"

"I dunno yet."

"Can I be your plus one?"

Miseung cast her friend a look.

"What?" Yeonjin asked with a shrug. "I thought I could be your moral support when you see your first love with his fated one."

"Gosh you're annoying."

"Then how about stop making yourself sad by seeing his happiness, Miseung." Yeonjin advised her friend with a roll of her eyes. "It won't speed the process of you finding your special one any quicker or easier."

"I know, but..." Miseung trailed off while letting out another sigh.

Seungcheol was the third soulmate that Miseung had met during her first year of high school although it wouldn't be until after their breakup that the Soulmate Timer would notified her that Seungcheol was The Lover and vice versa. Miseung was actually quite sad to discover that tidbit, but came to terms with knowing that life was like that and she would just have to deal with it. Anyways, she and Seungcheol started out as classmates and didn't really pay much attention to one another until the two were assigned the summer picnic task and had to work together. Seungcheol discovered that Miseung was cool as she could cook very well and she discovered that he couldn't cook that well and couldn't even handle spicy food. It was a very interesting summer picnic that year.

Soon enough the two became close friends despite being in different classrooms and by the end of their second year they started dating once they grew closer by building the relationship between them and were ready to take it to the next step. Those moments were great times and filled with a lot of memories, but then in their third year the love they had for one another seemed to have slowly fade over time. Eventually they just became friends again and stayed on good terms with one another after graduation. Although the image of the two were still etched within Miseung's Soulmate Timer, the image itself was less vibrant and more faded, but the little hearts that glimmered here and there still flashed from time to time.

"I'm not sad. It's just making me want my own true love." Miseung clarified with a roll of her eyes. "I'm happy for Seungcheol and I'm just wishing him all the best."

"Okay okay, but seriously, just don't go into another relationship like you did before our second year of college." Yeonjin reminded her friend as Miseung frowned.

"Oh, c'mon, Taeyong wasn't that bad. Besides, didn't you have a thing for his friend, Yuta or was it Kun."

"It was no one and I don't know who you're talking about." Yeonjin denied before shooting Miseung a steady gaze. "You were the only one that was part of that whole entourage of Taeyong, anyways."

"It wasn't like that. It was just..."

Miseung trailed off not sure how to describe her relationship with her last boyfriend, but Yeonjin had no problems in doing so.

"He was majorly popular by both male and female alike and lived life to the fullest that's for sure."

Yeonjin cast her friend a knowing look after say that.

"Don't deny it."

"I'm not." Miseung replied.

"Look,  Miseung, I'm not saying it was bad, but I am saying that going with the flow that time around was something out of character for you."

"Hey, do it now." Miseung mused. "Sometimes later becomes never."

"Wow. He really changed you for the better, huh?"

"He did."

Taeyong was The Changer and Miseung's fourth soulmate and vice versa. The two had met before the start of their second year of college when Miseung's dog, Kirby, had stolen Taeyong's socks and water bottle while they were at the park. It was a pretty crazy and wild encounter, but something within them clicked and they started seeing each other and hanging out more often since they also attended the same university. It was a whirlwind sort of romance as it wasn't officially stated that they were together, but it was implied among their group of friends and in the eyes of the people. Their relationship was something that Miseung thought she would have never found herself in or be with a person like Taeyong. He wasn't really a social butterfly per se, but he knew a lot of people and was quite well-known.

So basically it meant he was always surrounded by people and if he was invited to things, then that automatically meant Miseung was invited, too. Wherever he went she went, too. Still despite all the parties, the judgmental looks and words from people that wanted to be by Taeyong's side, and all the socializing, Taeyong never pressured her and always made sure if she was up for it. Miseung knew that he had changed her for the better and found a side of her she never knew existed. Still though, Miseung knew that he wasn't for her and he understood that and soon enough they parted ways on good terms. The image of the two was still engraved on the Soulmate Timer, but it appeared more worn out and faded like a forgotten memory.

"But he was a real sweetheart when it was just him and I along when we had our pet dates, too." Miseung reminisced. "Kirby still misses him, but no for real, honestly, if it wasn't for him, then I wouldn't have had that party girl lifestyle phase in my early twenties."

"Yeah, that's true. We're young and need to live a little and have that as part of life for sure. I get you, but still though, don't worry." Yeonjin assured her friend about her continuous love life. "You'll get your actual true love soulmate soon enough. Maybe even before me and then I don't have to hear you rant about it."

Yeonjin laughed at her last words while dodging a pillow that Miseung had thrown at her.

"I do not rant so much about it, okay?"

"Sure you don't. You're so hung up about finding your final soulmate when there's more things to enjoy in life until then."

"Yeah, but still. There's literally a timer that tells me when, but it doesn't make it any less stressful than it already does."

The duo looked over at Miseung's Soulmate Timer as Miseung scowled while speaking again.

"I swear that thing likes messing with me."

"What do you mean?" Yeonjin asked with furrowed eyebrows.

Miseung looked at her friend curiously.

"Does yours also tell you that you've seen them or whatever, but haven't actually met them."

"Yeah, like all the time, but I stop caring since I'm just gonna let it happen when it happens." She regarded her friend a bit. "Why? Yours acting up or what? Because that could be why you're stressing so much."

Miseung shook her head with a roll of her eyes.

"Not even, but if yours is the same, then it's nothing then. I just really hate that I've seen my destined soulmate like several times now, but haven't actually met him yet. Like how long do I gotta wait still?"

"Hopefully not until you're thirty since you wanna start a family by the age of twenty-five." Yeonjin mused.

"Psh, okay." Miseung scoffed. "Which I turned this year in November."

"Yeah, plenty of time. You're still young and can start a family maybe next year or so." Yeonjin dismissed before looking over at her friend. "So are we going or not?"

Miseung shot a pointed look in her friend's direction.

"Bro, I've been waiting on you."

"Oh, my bad. I thought you still had to get ready."

"You're the one that wanted to borrow my clothes."

"Oh, yeah, right." Yeonjin chuckled at the realization. "Let's go then."

Just as the duo left Miseung's room, Miseung's Soulmate Timer shifted it's timer for The Divine. It went from weeks of countdown to just a mere three hours.

~~~~~~~

"Ugh, can we please get something to drink and eat now?" Yeonjin complained once she and Miseung left the recent visited store.

"Yes, you big baby, we can." Miseung teased as Yeonjin rolled her eyes in good-nature. "You know you're craving for a guava bubble tea and chicken bits as much as I'm craving for a lavender milk tea."

"Actually, I've been into just the basic milk tea, lately."

"Wow, really? And you made fun of me for drinking that."

Miseung shrugged indifferently, but a ghost of a smile was evident upon her face and she bumped her friend with her hip. Yeonjin returned the same gesture as the pair reached their destination. Before either of them could open the door, the door swung opened and smacked Miseung head on as she was about to open the door in the first place. Yeonjin flinched before tending to her friend and helping Miseung stand back onto her feet.

"Are you okay?" The other person asked.

"Not really." Miseung replied while rubbing her sore spot and realized that her friend wasn't the one that had asked her.

Miseung turned towards the stranger and when she locked eyes with the male she and him both let out a hiss of pain. Miseung glanced down at the spot on her left inner wrist as it redden before something in black ink etched itself onto it. There in fresh ink and swollen skin, the date and time indicating that she had finally met her fated one. Miseung slowly gazed up to the stranger to analyzed the person who was her The Divine. The male did the same thing, but a large grin filled up his face.

"Hi." He greeted her and Miseung greeted him back, but with a more shier manner. "Hi, to you, too."

Yeonjin read the atmosphere and pointed towards the cafe that they were about to enter.

"Um, I'm just gonna leave the two of you alone."

She rushed off, but not before giving her friend a look and a reminder.

"Name, phone number, and your first date! Bye."

Yeonjin rushed inside with a laugh as Miseung shook her head while chuckling at her friend's behavior.

"Sorry about her, she's just trying to look out for me and whatever." Miseung apologized although she avoided the male's eyes.

"It's alright." He assured her. "She's right though."

"Right about what?" Miseung questioned while shooting him a curious look.

"I'm Kang Dongho, your The Divine."

"Oh. That. Ah well, I'm Lee Miseung and I'm also your The Divine."

Dongho brought out his phone with a shy manner.

"So, Miseung, may I have your number?"

"Ahh, right, right."

Miseung chuckled nervously as she slowly inputted her number into Dongho's phone. A moment later he did something on his mobile device. Miseung's phone soon dinged signaling a notification. She saved his number afterwards.

"So..." He began and trailed off with Miseung doing the same thing. "So..."

The two nervously giggled not sure how to start the next conversation as many things swirled around their minds and feelings thumped against their chest.

"You look familiar." Dongho started up a conversation as Miseung tilted her head.

"Maybe it's because I'm your true love soulmate?"

"Besides that, you looked like someone I know."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"I'm not sure, but do you know a Kim Yoojin?"

Miseung realized what he meant and nodded upon hearing the familiar name.

"Does she go by the nickname, Uee?"

"Yes."

"Then yes I do. She's my cousin."

"So we have seen one another." Dongho said with a slow smile before frowning. "How come we're only meeting each other now?"

"I dunno. Yoojin shows me a lot of photos of people she works and hangs out with, but it's always her and I whenever we hang out. I think I've seen you in some of those photos or those events she takes me, too. Do you go by another name?"

"I do. Baekho."

"Ah, that would explain all the markings on my Soulmate Timer then."

"Well, that doesn't explain mine. Do you also go by another nickname?"

"I do, but Uee calls me completely something else."

"What does she call you?"

Miseung didn't want to tell him, but Dongho made an educated guess.

"Are you the one she refers to as 'Honey Sok?"

Miseung let out a groan to which Dongho figured that it was correct. He changed the topic.

"So, um, about that date," Dongho started to say, but was interrupted by his friend who returned after finding out that Dongho didn't follow him.

"Dongho! C'mon man. We still have practice to get to."

Dongho groaned while shooting Miseung an apologetic look.

"Sorry, I forgot about that, but um, can I call or message you later?"

"Yeah you can, and it's okay. My friend I are having a friends' day, anyways."

Dongho's friend called out for him again making Dongho reluctantly bidding his The Divine a goodbye.

"Okay, I can't keep my friend waiting either. I'll contact you later today."

"Sure. See you again, Dongho." Miseung bid him goodbye with a small smile.

"See you again, too, Miseung." Dongho said with an even wider smile before an annoyed look replace it when his friend called for his attention again.

Miseung chuckled at the situation as Dongho shot her another apologetic look.

"I'll make sure that he's not around either."

Miseung nodded in understanding as Dongho waved a goodbye and met up with his friend. Miseung watched him go before her attention went onto Yeonjin who exited the shop with a few items in hands.

"So, no date right now?" Yeonjin asked although knowing the answer.

"No. He has practice or something like that. His friend wouldn't stop bugging him." Miseung explained while taking the milk tea and chicken bits from her friend.

"I see. Anyways, let's head back to your place. I wanna see the update to your Soulmate Timer and wondered what The Divine spot will look like."

"Oh right, me too."

Miseung also glanced down at her left inner wrist while placing her cold drink against it.

"Maybe an ice pack as well. I know they said it doesn't hurt much and that the swelling goes down after three days, but I would rather it not last that long."

"Yeah, yeah, but at least now you don't have to sigh now that you found your last soulmate."

"True, but it's your turn now."

"I'm not like you, Miseung."

"Not now."

The two giggled as Yeonjin asked Miseung about the whole moment of what she felt and saw when she finally locked eyes with her destined one. Back home in Miseung's room, her Soulmate Timer's spot for The Divine was replaced with an image of Dongho smiling. A heart was drawn around him and rotated in multiple colors like a neon sign. There were also flashes of small sparkles that faded in and out like shining stars. Miseung's Soulmate Timer was complete and turned transparent with only the words, time, and images shown.

#staytheb #nu'est scenarios #kang dongho #baekho

[carmenxjulia]

You Never Did Get My Name Ch7

Title: You Never Did Get My Name, Chapter 7

Description: Just girl things: Inviting an international criminal into your home.

[Read on AO3]

Here she was, right on time. Fist raised to knock on Julia Argent's door. I should have brought flowers. Or wine. Or something! But this isn't a date, so maybe bringing a gift would be too formal. Don't people usually bring a thank you gift for the host? If I go get something now, I'll be late, and that's rude. But not bringing a gift may also be rude. Which is worse?

It wasn't like Carmen to be nervous. She could break into the most secure buildings in the world and leave without a trace. She never got the jitters during a heist. Normally she was so cool and confident, but now that she was here, it dawned on her just how far from normal this all was. At least, far from her normal. Making friends and hanging out was new. New and exciting and terrifying and she needed to knock on the door and stop standing awkwardly in the hallway.

With a deep breath, she rapped at the door. Weird. She was so used to breaking and entering, politely knocking went against all of her training.

The door opened slowly, revealing the dark haired woman. "Hi. It's you."

"It's me. Expecting someone else?" There was that signature confidence. Back in the game.

"No, no. Please, come in," Julia sidestepped and opened the door wider to allow Carmen entry.

Carmen smiled, looking Julia up and down as she stepped inside. She noted the comfortable button up top, deep blue with a floral pattern, and jeans, with low-cut white socks on her feet. She couldn't help it, really. Taking stock of her surroundings and any nearby persons was almost automatic.

There was a modest kitchen, located directly to her right upon stepping into the apartment, from which a wonderful smell was emanating from. Julia must have been in the middle of cooking when she arrived. Well, that was something that hadn't been in her file: Miss Argent could cook.

To her left, Carmen identified what appeared to be a coat closet with a sliding door, and just past that was a hallway, probably leading to a bedroom. Linoleum tile met wood flooring where kitchen ended and common areas began. Further out was a small oval dining table, couch, TV, coffee table, lamp, and two bookshelves, all very purposely arranged to maximize the limited space. And finally, settled on the back of the couch was her hoodie, folded up neatly like it belonged on a department store shelf.

All of this was observed in seconds, as Carmen subconsciously noted a window that overlooked the street on the far side of the room. An alternate exit, had this been one of her usual capers. Cool it, Carmen. she chided herself. Unlike the coffee shop, this was a more confined and foreign atmosphere, and it put her on edge to be in unfamiliar territory, despite the homeliness.

Upon glimpsing Julia's attire, it suddenly dawned on Carmen that she was, in fact, wearing the exact same outfit she had at their previous meeting, the one difference being that her hair was down. But now, it was far, FAR too late to even consider changing. Her clothing choice usually didn't matter, catering more to functionality than style, but Carmen regretted not paying closer attention to her choice of dress this morning. She really only owned two or three plainclothes outfits that weren't formal wear or a disguise, but still. She'd had options.

Well, nothing to be done about it now except hope that Julia wouldn't notice. "Thank you, for retrieving my jacket."

"Oh, you're welcome," Julia replied, busying herself in the kitchen.

"Thought it might be an excuse to see you again even if you cancelled our plans for tonight," Carmen suavely leaned up against a wall with her arms folded, watching the other woman.

"I supposed that might be the reason," she stated calmly, opening the oven and pulling out a baking sheet with two perfectly cooked steaks on it, placing it on the counter next to the stove. Carmen swore she saw a smile prick at the corners of her lips.

"You're one smart cookie, aren't you Julia?" she grinned.

"Considering I've been attempting to decipher your motives for months, it wasn't all that difficult to deduce."

"Good detective work."

"Oh, I'm not a detective. Just a rookie."

"Could have fooled me."

The compliment seemed to brighten Julia up significantly.

There were a few minutes of silence as Carmen watched Julia work, before she asked, "Do you need help with anything?"

"Actually, would you mind setting the table while I finish up?" Julia pulled two plates from a cupboard and set them on the counter opposite the stove. "Silverware is there," she pointed to the drawer closest to Carmen, then pulled two steak knives from a knife block and placed them on top of the plates.

"You trust me with a weapon?" Carmen remarked as she came to collect the cutlery.

"If you wanted to hurt me, I doubt you'd even need one."

"So you know what I'm capable of?"

"I have a pretty good idea."

"And you still invited me over?"

"It appears that way, doesn't it?"

"It does," she replied. She hadn't given much thought with the task assigned to her while they'd been busy making small talk. It wasn't until she had everything in hand and had made her way to the table that she paused, staring at the flat wooden surface.

"Something wrong?" Julia noticed her hesitance.

"It's funny," Carmen shook her head, setting down the plates at opposite ends of the table, "I learned table manners from one of my nannies when I was young, including the proper way to set placements, but I never had the opportunity to practice in a real-life setting. I'm almost surprised I remember at all."

"Remember how to set a table?" the notion was odd to Julia, but from what Carmen Sandiego had previously indicated, perhaps she had not had a typical childhood. Perhaps things she considered normal were foreign to the super thief. The unknown history and mystery surrounding Carmen only made her more interested in the purloiner.

"I'm always moving around, never in one place too long. It's definitely an experience to be able to enjoy the local cuisine at a restaurant or order something to my hotel room. But I've never eaten in a… home, before," Carmen made the observation as she placed down silverware.

"What about where you grew up?"

"Meals were more of a communal affair. Long tables with benches in a big room, sitting next to the closest thing you'll have to family for the next year."

"Do you miss it?" Julia prompted.

"No. I never belonged there. There are people I miss sometimes, or used to miss, but… they don't miss me. The past is the past. I'm not there now. I'm here, with you," a layer of fondness she hadn't counted on permeated her concluding sentence.

"What about where you live now?"

"I live wherever the last mission was, or where the next mission will be," Carmen leaned on the counter as she watched Julia putting the finishing touches on dinner.

"So you just travel around the world? You don't have a home?"

"Where would I go? I grew up on- Somewhere I can't go back to, and even then I only had my room to myself. I don't have family to return to and I don't have friends to invite over and entertain. I guess that's kind of sad, huh?"

"Maybe, a little. But! You get to see the world!" Julia could hardly contain her excitement at the prospect. "Experience so many walks of life, so many cultures. See historic sites that most people only dream about. It can't be all that bad, never knowing what city you'll wake up in or where you'll be called to next. It sounds thrilling and exhausting all at the same time. Sort of romantic, even."

"I do like seeing the world after being cooped up in one place for most of my life. I'm always on the move, trying to stay one step ahead of my enemies. Being laid up for weeks has kind of given me cabin fever. It's been nice to finally go out."

"I like traveling, but I find it's nice to be able to stay in for once, actually. I don't get to cook very often. Work keeps me on the go more often than I'd like. It's nice to be home."

Home. It was such a funny word for Carmen. Home, for her, had been a dorm on a secret island. Home had been a series of babysitters and one motherly figure. Now, home was one hotel room after another. Home was Player and Ivy and Zack. Her home had never been the traditional type that most people imagine when they think of that familiar domestic place they can always return to. For a moment, Carmen found herself missing something she'd never even had.

"I never did thank you for saving my partner," Julia remarked as she made her way from the kitchen and began serving up steak, shallots, potatoes, and green beans.

"Are you two close?"

"Our relationship is strictly work related."

Carmen nodded. That seemed accurate to what she had concluded based on their interactions.

Julia sat down at the table and motioned for Carmen to take the other seat.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, before Julia felt compelled to ask a question that had been burning in her mind for the past several weeks. "How did they find him?"

"Who?"

"The people who took Devineaux. How did they find him?"

Carmen paused. She knew she was partially to blame for Devineaux's capture. If she hadn't taken his keycard, V.I.L.E. wouldn't have been able to track him. But she'd had no way of knowing it would find its way into Paper Star's hands, or that it contained enough information for them to track him down. But Julia already knew she'd helped him escape, and Carmen couldn't exactly lie about what she knew.

"I took a blue keycard off of him after he found me on the train to India. I was going to do my own investigating into what A.C.M.E. is, but before I had the chance, someone else got a hold of it. Someone bad. No doubt they thought the keycard being on my person meant we were working together."

"But it's quite the opposite."

"It certainly is," Carmen smiled, partially in amusement, and partially out of relief that Julia seemed to be taking this new information in stride. "You have one too, don't you?"

Now it was Julia's turn to consider whether or not she should lie. She would have never expected that when she started conversing with Carmen Sandiego that she would get honest answers. She dodged some questions, yes, but what she could answer, she seemed to answer truthfully. Besides, she was pretty sure Carmen already knew the answer anyway.

"Yes."

"Could I borrow it?"

"No."

"Didn't think so."

"Why even ask? Why not just take it, like with Agent Devineaux?"

"Play- People told me I should have. You probably had it on you when we met at the café. You wouldn't have even noticed it was missing until I was long gone."

"So why didn't you?"

"Because you- you've been nice to me. You seem to trust me, for some reason. Either that or you're playing a very long game of trying to lure me into some kind of trap. Other people are actually bad or they make my job hard and my life really inconvenient, so I just return the favor. I guess the favor you showed me was letting me get away on the train. And then not trying to catch me at the café. You let me go, and I may not know why, but you haven't done anything worthy of me stealing from you. Even if it would be helpful, it's not worth it to betray your trust like that."

Julia hmm-ed as she pushed around some of the pommes rissolées on her plate. It was true. She had made the decision to trust Carmen Sandiego, alleged super thief and a criminal wanted in several countries. Yet here they were, having dinner and chatting like they were two old friends, instead of enemies on opposite sides of the law. Julia should have been scouring police reports and searching through A.C.M.E.'s database, yet here she was getting information straight from the source. A part of her was genuinely curious about the elusive woman in red, and the other part encouraged her to ask specific questions that would reveal information that could be useful to herself, and A.C.M.E. It almost felt wrong to be using her in this way, even if she didn't mean to.

"They were from V.I.L.E., weren't they?"

"They-" it took Carmen a moment to register that Julia had just brought up V.I.L.E. V.I.L.E., the extremely secret and dangerous organization she'd escaped from. V.I.L.E., the members of which were trying to hunt her down and stop her. V.I.L.E., her V.I.L.E., the only V.I.L.E., and a group which Julia had absolutely no business having knowledge of. "How do you know about V.I.L.E.?"

"How do you know about it?"

Carmen narrowed her eyes as Julia turned the tables on her. "I know that they're dangerous. They'll stop at nothing to get what they want. It's not just about the thefts. It's so much bigger than that."

"How big?"

"Putting entire countries in danger, big. V.I.L.E. has plenty of resources at their disposal. They're very powerful."

"And yet you think you can take them on all on your own?"

"I was their best agent."

"You were?"

Too late, Carmen realized their banter had taken an unexpected turn. And she had just revealed a very important piece of information about her past. How had she let her guard down so quickly? What had happened to her promise to Player to be careful? How had Julia managed, in so short a timespan, to weasel out such a delicate detail about her life? Why did it seem so effortless to respond to her questions, like she wasn't even thinking about it? Was it her need to impress this agent of A.C.M.E.? Some inner inclination that pushed her to want to show off to Julia, of all people?

"I shouldn't have told you that."

"Why did you?"

"I'm telling you this because-" because you believed in me enough to meet me on neutral ground. To ask me about my motives instead of assuming you knew me at all. Because you haven't turned me in yet. Because I feel like I can trust you, the same way I trust the rest of my team. Because I think you're special and I don't know how to communicate that with words. "-I want you to be safe, Jules."

"You think I can't take care of myself?"

"Not when it comes to V.I.L.E."

"Maybe you're underestimating me."

"Maybe you're underestimating them."

That seemed to be the end of that conversation, as Julia mulled over everything Carmen and said, and Carmen fretted over compromising her entire operation. Then again, Julia had been the one to mention V.I.L.E.. Maybe she knew more than Carmen had previously thought. Interpol had never seemed to take a direct interest in them, so perhaps it was related to her new role as an agent of A.C.M.E.

"Why are you concerned with my safety? Haven't I made your job hard by pursuing you as an officer of the law?"

Whether or not Julia was still considered an officer was beside the point. "Because maybe having a friend on the inside would be beneficial."

"So you're using me?"

"I didn't mean-"

Julia's chair scraped against the floor as she pushed herself away from the table, cutting Carmen off mid-sentence. She picked up her empty plate, grabbing Carmen's before turning back to the kitchen. She busied herself with the dishes, peeking up once to see Carmen with her face buried in her hands. She sighed.

She didn't exactly have the right to be offended. After all, she was using Carmen for professional gain, just the same. They both had things to benefit from this relationship, work related or not, and they were both well aware of that fact. Whether or not they meant to, and even if they hadn't acknowledged it out loud before, they knew it.

Carmen, on the other hand, was attempting to think of a way to salvage the evening. Miss Argent was, undoubtedly, upset with her. She snuck a glance at her host, whose downcast eyes busied themselves coordinating with whatever her hands were doing in the sink. She thought of leaving right then; after all, dinner was finished and that was the only planned activity of the evening. But then, Julia hadn't asked her to go yet, so perhaps she wasn't angry after all?

She cleared her throat, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "You're a wonderful cook, Julia. Thank you for such a lovely meal."

The simple compliment put Julia at ease. If Carmen Sandiego was only here to gather intel, she wouldn't need to be so… nice. From what Julia had seen of her thefts, she was nothing if not efficient. Seeing as she took the time for pleasantries, she seemed genuine enough. "Thank you, and you're welcome," she smiled as she began to dry the now clean plates and utensils.

"I've eaten in plenty of famous restaurants, or smaller family owned establishments, but they're nothing like this."

"I'm sure it's not that good."

"Best meal I've had in France."

"Well, now, I highly doubt it."

"I mean it. You should take pride in your skills." When Julia focused on her task instead of answering, she continued, "I didn't mean what I said. About you being beneficial. I meant-"

"I know what you meant."

Carmen gave her a quizzical look, and Julia nodded back with a slight smile, as if to say, we're both here for the same reason, and it's okay.

"Should I put on some tea? I've got some madeleines if you wanted to stay a little longer. If you don't have anywhere else to be."

"That sounds nice, Jules. Thank you," it seemed the night wasn't going to be a total loss after all. She watched, for a moment, as Julia filled a kettle that had been sitting on one of the back burners, turning on the stove before digging through a cupboard and examining several boxes. Different kinds of tea, she guessed.

While Julia was preoccupied, Carmen felt it would be an appropriate time to explore the living space. She stood, tentatively, taking in the small apartment once more. Her eyes fell on the pair of bookcases, and she made her way over, involuntarily interested what sort of literature Agent Argent favored.

She scanned the various spines, a few titles catching her attention: The Glass Universe, The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, Lay Down Your Arms, Mrs. Stevens Hears the Mermaids Singing, The Warrior Queens. Carmen had read plenty while growing up, but her access to publications was limited to what had been directly provided for her. Her work, as she referred to it, kept her almost too busy to read. Staying one step ahead of V.I.L.E. came with its own set of challenges and real world missed opportunities.

Her ears perked as the tea kettle whistled briefly, followed by,

"You can turn on that lamp, you know."

Carmen turned at the sound of Julia's voice, seeing her approaching the coffee table with a teapot in one hand and a plate of cookies in the other. As she moved to switch on the light, Julia returned to the kitchen once more, coming back with two cups that matched the red teapot with the gold dragon on it.

"How did you get interested in history, Miss Argent?" Carmen settled herself on the couch next to her host.

"Julia, please," she corrected. "Like most people, I desire to know more about our past, and that of others. Where we come from. How we used to live. And to even consider how someday, someone will look back at our time when we've all become a part of history, in some way.

"It's also fascinating how objects can be so easily destroyed, or the existence of a previously known person completely wiped from history. Before computers and technology, there were scrolls and carvings and statues and word-of-mouth stories to commemorate others. Material objects that, if one had enough motivation and power, could completely cease to exist. There are people who were famous or well-known in their time, that we'll never have knowledge of their existence. The mark they left on the world is essentially meaningless. And yet, all the time we're finding information about persons who were involved in or even personally altered the course of our history, but who never received proper credit in their lifetime. For so many years, history was written by the victors, and I think we're finally starting to see that change," she finally took a breath and sipped at her tea, noticing Carmen mirroring the action.

"I'm sorry. I'm doing it again. Babbling on about inconsequential topics," she traded her teacup for a cake, nibbling at it.

Carmen saw the blush rise on Julia's cheeks and ears, even as she turned her attention away and concentrated on the baked good. "I like the babble," she smiled behind her cup.

Julia turned back, skeptical of the sincerity in her words, but her expression indicated she was being genuine. She reciprocated the smile, thinking on what to say next and waiting to see if Carmen had anything to add while she finished her dessert.

When no further comments were added, she plunged continued. "On the other hand, sometimes things can be accidentally preserved. Buried, or lost, or kept in a private collection. Sometimes it's things that seem insignificant, but turn out to be special. Paintings, artifacts, even ordinary objects, hold value because we say so. And even when a person is gone, someone else can decide they mattered. Take Vivian Maier, for example.

"She took over 100,000 photographs in her lifetime, and kept them all for herself. Most were never even developed. And no one knows why. Why she took so many photos. Why she never shared them. She worked as a nanny in her day job, and never took up photography professionally - professionally being a paid position somewhere. Did she enjoy photograph because it helped her remember things? Purely because it was fun at the time?

"It is fascinating to see how she viewed the world. Lots of people take photographs they don't intend to display. But she was born prior to the digital age, when film and cameras were not as common or easily accessible. And all it took was one person discovering her work and making it available to the public. Her photographs could have been destroyed or archived, and never seen the light of day. No one would have ever heard of her. She could have faded into obscurity like millions of others. And from what I've heard, she would have preferred it that way. Why does a complete stranger get to decide the value of another's work?

"What made other photographers at the time famous? Knowing the right people? Taking an iconic photo? The art world is a bit arbitrary, don't you think? There are millions of artists all over the world, but even in a few decades, only a select few may have their work displayed in a museum or gallery. All based on someone else's opinion.

"Take Anton Mauve, for instance. He was an artist, and Vincent van Gogh's teacher. He lived and created art at the exact same time. Yet, he and his works are not valued nearly as highly. It's intriguing, really. How one person's style is regarded as more revolutionary than another.

"He was modestly famous when he was alive. Today, his works do reside in museums, among that of others, but he doesn't have his own named after him. And despite their immaculate realism, they are not worth nearly as much as that of his student. His life has not been scrutinized and studied as closely. Was he a lesser artist? Who's to say?

"Is he not as widely remembered because he wasn't eccentric? Because he had his life together? What dictates how someone is remembered? Is it based on how they lived? How they died? What they created? Who they impacted? Who they knew? Maybe there is some bias present, if you think about it.

"Some people never want the spotlight, and are thrust into it. Others strive their whole lives to be famous and revered by many, and never achieve it. And some, who want the spotlight in life, only achieve it after death. While others, who never wished for fame in life, receive it after death anyway. There's no formula. No guarantee of fame or recognition. It's out of our control, for most of us, no matter what we do."

"And which are you, Julia Argent?" Carmen placed her elbow on her leg, allowing her to rest her chin in her hand as she grinned mischievously.

"Pardon?"

"Are you one who strives for the spotlight and a deed that will immortalize you, or someone who would rather fade into obscurity?"

"I just want to make the world a better place in whatever ways I'm able, and learn as much as I can. If I am recognized for my work in life or death, so be it. You?"

"I feel the same way."

"The frequency with which you thrust yourself into the spotlight would beg to differ."

"I need people in the here and now to know I exist. I want to be a reminder to those who would selfishly keep the world's treasures for themselves that I will be a constant thorn in their side as long as I live. I don't need them to fear me, but I need them to know I do not fear them. Playing to the natural need for human's to document and share information and make up stories just adds to the fun."

The conversation had petered off, cups were empty, and the hour was late. Carmen yawned, covering her face with one hand, while the other set her teacup down on the coffee table. "I should probably get going."

"Why don't you stay?" Julia blurted without thinking.

"What? You think I'm afraid of the dark?"

"No! But it's not always safe. I have room here. You could leave in the morning."

"You think Carmen Sandiego can't take care of herself?"

"There's nothing wrong with being worried about someone!"

"You're worried about a criminal?"

"Is that really what you are?"

"It's what everyone has decided about me"

"Not everyone."

"Not everyone," she echoed. She really hadn't given Julia enough credit. Julia Argent, who should have been, as far as she was concerned, considered one of her enemies. Maybe letting her escape on the train that day had been an accident. But calling her, joining her for coffee and inviting her here, those were not accidents.

It felt strange to have someone worry about her well-being. She supposed that Player, and Ivy, and Zack probably all worried about her, to an extent. They helped keep her safe on missions, risked their lives to ensure her safety. But there was something about this small gesture, this offer to protect her from the night, that felt different. Julia wasn't obligated to care, Carmen wasn't paying her to look out for her, and yet she had.

Julia piped up, rousing Carmen from her thoughts, "My bed is big enough for two, if you don't mind."

Carmen wasn't quite sure if she did mind, which explained her indecisiveness. As far back as she could remember, she'd slept in a bed all by herself. Even as a baby, she inhabited a series of bassinets and cribs and playpens. The operatives of V.I.L.E. weren't exactly known for their familiar affection. Coach Brunt had always offered a few small touches, pats on the head or gently pressing into the small of her back to lead her. But Carmen had been used to it. She'd never felt like something was missing. And yet, since meeting Julia Argent, she strangely found herself craving a higher level of intimacy.

"I don't mind," she finally decided.

"Alright then. I'll clean things up. Bedroom is down the hall to the right. There should be something you can wear in the second drawer of the dresser. Bathroom is on the left."

"Thanks, Jules."

Carmen made her way through the rest of the small apartment, easily finding the indicated rooms. Wood floor gave way to the only carpeted room in the house when she reached the bedroom. Easily finding the dresser, she picked out a pair of loose basketball shorts and a baggy t-shirt that looked like someone had done a painting project while wearing it. Very comfortable. Once changed, she observed the bedroom more closely.

On top of the dresser were a few knick-knacks, probably souvenirs of Julia's travels. Memories from places she could say she'd been, even if work kept her from actually enjoying them. A shame. Carmen at least tried to take time to see the sites before moving on to the next city or country. From what she'd gathered from Julia, her antics kept interpol, and perhaps other agencies, on their toes trying to track her down.

Julia entered, regarding her with a quick nod, before grabbing a pair of polyester checkered pants and a snug t-shirt, similar to what Carmen might have worn if she were back in her hotel room.

When she was gone again, Carmen glanced at the bed. A standard queen size, with plenty of room for two. Sitting slightly off center was a book, and Carmen's curiosity piqued when it caught her eye. Upon closer inspection, she discovered that it was actually a sketchbook. With a brief look behind her to see if Julia had returned, she flipped it open.

The first several pages were full of sketches. Cats, buildings, and plants, all arranged haphazardly on the pages. She was about to close it and deposit it back where she found it, when she flipped to the next set of drawings and saw what appear to be depictions of her own likeness.

She heard the handle turn on the bathroom door, twisting around to face Julia as she entered. "You didn't tell me you were an artist."

"How did you-" she paused in the doorway, peeking at what was in Carmen's hands. Her cheeks tinged pink when she realized what she was looking at. "It's just a hobby," she countered, quickly reaching for the sketchbook.

Carmen gave it up reluctantly. "A very accurate hobby. Great cook, great artist. What can't you do, Julia?" she smirked.

"Plenty, I'm sure," Julia hugged the pages to her chest, flustered by the sudden barrage of flattery. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, moving to stash the book in a nightstand drawer.

They each slipped into their respective sides of the bed, neither very tired but willing to try. There was a lot to think about. The things they'd learned about each other. What more there was to know. How difficult it was to balance their work with their budding friendship. And when they might meet again next.

"Goodnight, Carmen."

"Goodnight, Jules."

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#Carmen Sandiego #Julia Argent #Carmen X Julia #Carmelia #Fanfiction #You Never Did Get My Name #MINE #Carmen

[stylesgalaxy]

mastermind; chapter 6

turns out some of you actually enjoy this fic!! i didn't think anyone really liked it so here's chapter 6! ngl i kinda forgot about this bc i was working on something else, but i'm here now :)

***

"You didn't call," Harry says when I stumble home a few hours later. I was trying to be quiet but clearly it didn't work because Harry hears me and quietly slips out of Julia's room.

"I didn't need you," I respond. Which was true, I didn't. Zayn got an Uber and dropped me off here before going home himself.

"Your friend drop you off? He was drunk, Aria, you could have—"

"Relax he called an Uber," I say, taking my shoes off and hanging my jacket on the coat rack. "Zayn's not stupid."

"That was Zayn?" he says, appalled. "Hold on, I knew the name was familiar and he looks familiar... He's not the one who Julia..."

He trails off awkwardly.

"Yeah, he went home with Julia after a party in freshman year," I say rubbing my eyes. I was going to say "fucked" but I thought it was too insensitive considering he's in love with Julia. I sigh heavily when I remember being so hopeful that Julia would like Zayn long enough for me gather the courage to talk to Harry. But the universe was cruel, and I was too late.

Harry nods and I'm left wondering if he ever thinks about that night. Thinks about whether he saw Julia at the party they were both at, or thinks about how another guy went home with his future girlfriend, or thinks about the girl he made out with blindfolded. He obviously doesn't know it's me. But he never gave any indication on whether or not he even remembered kissing me.

Well, of course he wouldn't. We were acquainted through Julia, his girlfriend, he's not allowed to talk about those things. Just like how Julia didn't talk about how good Zayn was in front of Harry.

Harry remains silent so I start walking towards my room.

"I'm sorry," he says just as I pass him. "I shouldn't have interrupted you... o-or talked to you the way I did."

"Good," I deadpan. "You should be."

This makes his softened expression fall, and confusion spread.

"Aria, I was just looking out for you--"

"Harry, are you really going to defend your actions after you apologized for behaving that way? And besides, I don't need you to look out for me."

"Everyone needs someone to look out for them," he says quietly.

"Maybe," I answer, not trying to get deep or philosophical with him right now, "but you embarrassed me in front of Zayn and made me feel like a child."

"I thought he was—!"

"Whatever you thought was wrong," I counter, frustrated. "I'm an adult, I can take care of myself. Me and you, we're friends, Harry. That's all we are. Save this type of reaction for your girlfriend."

His eyebrows pinch and I am mortified by what I say.

"Goodnight," I squeak and all but run to my room, nearly slamming the door.

Could you not have made it anymore obvious, Aria?!

What the fuck was wrong with me?

---

The next day I wake up around noon. Normally I'd spend this day of relaxation watching something with Julia, but since Harry is here, I don't want to. I slip into the bathroom unnoticed and take a shower. I hope that if it's long enough Harry will realize that I'm awake and leave.

I dry off in the bathroom and change into fresh clothes before wrapping a towel around my hair. Upon leaving the bathroom, I find out Harry did not take the hint and he was still here.

He's sitting on the couch with his arm around Julia, fixated on the television in front of him. He's eyes snap to mine when he sees me exit the bathroom and he gets up and gathers his things. Julia watches him pack his things with a sad frown on her face.

"Must you leave so early? We're almost done season six," she says with puppy eyes. Seriously, how does she not get tired of always sitting on the same couch watching the same shows with him?

"Sorry, love, but I have to see my father," he kisses her forehead. He turns around and pins me with his gaze just before I can escape to my room. "Aria? Can you walk me out?"

I want to roll my eyes at him. He's closer to the door! Julia looks between us curiously.

"It's only a few steps, Harry, I'm sure you'll manage to find the door," I say, opening my door.

"Aria, please."

I sigh and look at Julia first. She's watching me questioningly as if to say, what's up with him? I give her a look back that says, I'll explain later.

Only then did I look at Harry's pleading expression and walk over to the door with him. I hand him his jacket and he says quietly, "I just want to make sure everything is okay between us."

The bitter and petty part of me wants to respond with, There is no 'us'. But I shut her up because last night's response kept me up.

"I really am sorry about how I acted," he continues with pleading eyes. "You're right. You're an adult and I shouldn't tell you what to do. Just please forgive me, I don't want you to go back to ignoring me. I promise I won't do it again."

My heart clenches at his words. He really likes being my friend?

"Of course, Harry, it's okay," I say softly. He looks relieved but his smile is still a little tense. To ease the mood, I say, "You're not gonna get rid of me that easily. I'll remain an annoying thorn at your side."

He chuckles.

"Are you sure I'm not the thorn?" he says.

"You are, actually, I was just trying to be nice. But thanks for realizing what you truly are," I chirp. I open the door for him and he steps out waving at me.

I'm almost about to shut it when Julia yells, "Bye, Harry!"

Harry quickly comes back, says goodbye to her too, then leaves.

"So what was that all about?" Julia sits up immediately after I lock the door.

I relay what happened last night at the party to her, deciding to keep out the conversation we had when I arrived.

"So he just wanted to make sure we were cool, and I told him we are."

Julia nods, "That's good."

I go to the kitchen to grab something to eat when she says, "Hey, you know what we should do? We should go shopping!"

---

Since Julia and I are at the mall, I make her do her Christmas shopping. She already knew what to get her mom--a Valentino bag--but I force her to look for something for her father too. It would make him happy that she thought about him. Julia whines and complains, but eventually we settle on a flask set and a fancy Montblanc pen for him. I leave her to look for a gift for Harry while I go to shop for my family.

In the cheaper side of the mall, I shop for my parents and my little brother. I go inside Barnes & Noble and buy a bunch of cute homey things I know my mom likes. My dad loves board games so I pick one up for him along with a puzzle. I get two books for my brother because I wish he read more, but I also sneak in a video game from another shop, because I want him to like his gift. My bags are getting heavy, but I'd really rather not come back another day since the mall will only get busier closer to Christmas, so I look for gifts for my friends too. Niall and Louis are easy, they'll like anything. I get a fancy jewelry box for Julia with fancy scented candles and fancy bath bombs that she likes.

I leave Harry last. This will be the first time I get him a gift from myself and I want to make it special since he bought that leather sketchbook for me but it was hard because I'd already gone over my budget. So, I get him a Gordon Ramsay cookbook, a trivia game, and chocolates. It's not until I go to Starbucks where Julia and I were supposed to meet, that I see a set of six reusable cups with cute sayings like "Live in the Wow" or "Be About Love". This was perfect. Smiling, I purchase it and add it to my bags.

I sit at a table with my bags around me and wait for Julia to show. She arrives, with way less bags because she was only shopping for three people. And her gifts were small but expensive. She joins me at the table and I ask her what she got for Harry.

"Socks," she says, pulling out a pair Christmas socks. I look at her, somewhat annoyed.

"That's it?!"

"And chocolate!" she says quickly, pulling out a Lindt chocolate bar.

"Julia!" I chastise.

"What?"

"He's your boyfriend! You can't get him socks and chocolate!"

"I know," she whines, "but I looked and looked and I didn't know what else to get him!"

I sigh heavily and pin Julia with a glare.

"Let's go," I huff finally, "I'll help you find something for him but you're carrying half my bags."

She grabs my bags with great eager and sets out of Starbucks.

---

"Oh my God, you know what we should do now?" Julia says once we're done shopping. I'm about to roll my eyes because I can't imagine doing anything else except lying down or eating. "We should go to that Italian restaurant! The one I said I'd take you to for getting Harry a gift!"

That grabs my attention.

"Okay but where will we put our bags? We can't take them with us there's too many," I say.

"It's okay, I'll call Liam. He can take them to our place and drop us off, he wouldn't mind," she assures and pulls out her phone, searching for his number. "Hey, Liam? Yeah, yeah everything's okay! I was just wondering if you're busy right now? No? Well it's just that Aria and I have been shopping all day and we have so many bags, but we're really hungry and want to go for dinner, and--" she pauses for a moment. "Thank you so so so much! Okay... yeah... great, see you soon!"

She ends the call and smirks at me.

"I thought he was your father's personal assistant not yours," I comment.

"He is, but he told me that if I ever need anything to not hesitate to call him. He's really nice. I'm gonna tell my father. Hopefully Liam can get a raise."

---

Liam drops us off at the restaurant and then drives away with Julia's key to take our bags home. I watch him driving away and wonder if this is what it's like to be rich. Huh.

My mood is instantly brightened when our server places our food in front of us. Julia whips out her phone to take a Boomerang of our pizzas, I stick my tongue out when the camera reaches me. She puts that on her Instragram story and I guess she was really feeling the love for me because she asks to take a proper photo. She pushes her chair to sit beside me and asks our server to take a photo.

I shrug one shoulder and smile sweetly at the camera, while Julia rests her arm at the back of my chair and leans her head closer to mine.

"Adorable, fucking adorable," Julia says after she takes her phone back, typing away. I get a notification that Julia tagged me in a photo, but ignore it for now. I have more important things to focus on, like my pizza which I take a slice out of before shoving it into my mouth. Julia looks up right then and howls with laughter, snapping another photo.

"Julia, no!" I try to say but my mouth is full.

"You look so funny!"

"Don't post that one, okay?"

She promises she won't and we eat the rest of our dinner laughing and talking about random things.

---

"Hey," I say to Julia when the episode of Friends that we were watching ends.

"Hmm," she replies, looking up from her phone.

"I kinda... I kinda wanna try makeup," I hesitate. I'd seen a lot of girls with perfect makeup on their face and it made me want to give it a go. And today, at the mall I went inside Sephora and wanted to buy everything. Sephora was just a fancier, prettier art store.

"Oh my God!" Julia hollers. "Come, I'll teach you everything."

She drags me into her room and sits me in front of her vanity. I'm a little overwhelmed by all the products she throws at me, but I get the basics: primer, foundation, concealer, setting powder, brows, mascara. She says that the primer and foundation I use are the most important part, and then hands me some good ones to keep.

"You're about my colour," she says, dabbing some on my face to check. "You're a little darker, that's okay you can use bronzer to even it out."

Bronzer, blush, and highlighter: they were good but not always necessary, she says. She applies eyeshadow to my eyelids and then swipes a thin line of eyeliner over it. I curl my own lashes and apply mascara. My eyes instantly stand out so much more.

"Wow, this colour really enhances your eyes," Julia says. "I wouldn't even wear foundation if I was you, you have nice skin. Do your eyes, though, they make you look like a bad bitch."

I smirk and we start experimenting with lipstick, giggling and dabbing some on each other's faces.

"Okay, now I have to show you how to wash it off," Julia says half an hour later.

"What, you mean I can't just use water and soap?" I ask feeling stupid.

"No, silly, not all soap will wash off makeup. You'll be scrubbing at your skin harshly then breaking out." We go to the bathroom where she pulls out her makeup remover, gently wiping the makeup away from my face. "There, all clean."

"Thanks," I smile.

"Here, I'll give you the products I don't use that you can experiment with. I'll give you some brushes too, and I'll show you how to clean them."

Putting on makeup sounds like it's includes a lot of cleaning that I didn't anticipate. I take the items she gives and watch how she washes brushes and sets them upright to dry. I've never had to deal with germs when it came to art supplies, but it makes sense why you have to with makeup supplies.

I call it a night after I put away the makeup. Getting in bed, I start scrolling through my phone. I open my Instragram notifications and see the cute picture Julia posted of us with the caption: My ride or die, love you @aria_collins.

Smiling at my phone, I double tap the picture. I comment, love you too bitch <3 before scrolling through the other comments. Some are from her other friends, that I don't know that well, and one is from her mom. My heart jolts when I see Harry commented on it too.

harrystyles: Cute

It was just one word.

Cute.

But it made butterflies erupt inside me. I shake my head at myself.

He was talking about his girlfriend, stupid.

Nonetheless, I fall asleep with a smile on my face.

---

The sound of my door opening wakes me up. I was never a heavy sleeper like Julia.

"Aria?" Julia whispers in the dark. I hum back in response. I'm awake now, might as well see what's up. "You're awake?" she says hopefully. I check the time and see I've only been asleep for half an hour.

"Yeah, what's up?" I turn fully towards Julia who looks wide awake, she hasn't even changed into her pyjamas yet.

"I really, really want to take a bath but Harry won't stop texting me," she says coming to lay down on my bed beside me.

"So tell him to shut up," I deadpan, letting my eyes shut in fatigue.

"I can't... he's like talking about serious things. And it's stressing me out and we had such a long day, I just want to take a bath and sleep. Can you just talk to him for a bit? It's way past his bedtime, I'm sure he'll fall asleep soon."

I want to ask her why she doesn't think I want to sleep, and why it makes sense to wake me up so I can talk to her boyfriend while she relaxes.

I grab her phone to see what he's even saying. Maybe I can tell her how to respond to end the conversation. But Julia takes this as me giving my consent and kisses my forehead before running out. I roll my eye before blinking to focus on the texts but they don't make sense so I scroll up to about half an hour ago, where he seems to be asking her a lot about her day. I skip through the parts where they talk about shopping and the restaurant we went to until I get to the serious part.

You're not busy are you? he wrote.

no, what's up? Julia responded.

I'm just a bit frustrated.

oh no baby, what's wrong?

So you know how I went to see my father today? It didn't really end well...

what happened?

He has a girlfriend

He wanted me to meet her because apparently they're "serious"

they've only been dating for four months

Not to mention, I'm JUST finding out? Four months later?

oh shit

Sorry, I know I'm just dumping all this on you. I tried to forget about it but it's been a few hours and I'm still kind of mad, to be honest.

Babe?

I curse Julia for leaving him like this. Stumbling out of bed, I hurriedly knock on bathroom door.

"Julia!" I call.

"What?" she responds.

"This is serious stuff!"

"I know, that's why I was so freaked out."

"I can't pretend to be you! That's-thats... wrong."

"Well I can't get out now, I just applied this mask, it needs at least thirty more minutes to set! Fuck."

"Why would you leave him like this! He clearly needs someone to talk to, how can you even think about relaxing and taking a bath?"

"I'm sorry! But I freaked out and panicked so I came to you!"

"Well now he's panicking."

"I'm sorry, Aria, please don't yell at me, I don't know what to do in situations like this. He's never told me anything about his father before!"

I sigh deeply. That makes it worse!

"I'll talk to him, but you have to get out as soon as you can!"

"I will."

I go back to my room and sit on my bed. Harry hasn't sent anymore texts after that last one. I try to come up with something quick to excuse her absence.

hey sorry, aria nearly burnt the kitchen down i had to help her

I send the text with a terrible feeling growing in my chest.

Oh okay, that's ok. I thought you fell asleep.

I shake my head and glare at Julia through the wall for making me do this. I don't want to pretend to be Julia like this to Harry. I know I told Julia a lot of what to say or do in this relationship, but those were things I hoped she'd learn from.

Fuck that, right now Harry needs someone to talk to, and the he thinks the person he turned to abandoned him.

no, i wouldn't fall asleep on you, I continue.

why are you mad that your father has a girlfriend?

I dont know... I guess I'm just mad that he would even consider marrying someone else after my mother

My heart breaks a little for him.

but it's been a few years since your mother died

don't you think your father deserves to move on?

I guess. five years just seemed a little too soon

you can't decide how much time someone else needs to mourn and move on. that's up to them

you're right, but that doesn't mean he should have told me this late

Doesn't he care at all what I think?

he probably knew you wouldn't take it well. maybe that's why he waited until your exams were over

You're making it sound like he cares for me. he doesn't.

he does, harry. he's your father. of course he cares for you.

My father isn't like yours, Julia. He doesn't just call me up out of the blue and shower me with gifts to show his love. The only interaction i've had with him in months was the money he's been depositing in my account.

My heart aches for him. His father doesn't talk to him? I never knew that. Harry is always so positive and keen on keeping everyone happy that I never once thought he might have issues like this.

my father was the same. he didn't talk to me, only sent me money for months.

do you want to know what changed?

what

one day he wanted to have dinner with me and update me on his life, and ask about mine

after that, i visited him regularly even though i didn't really want to

and now we're actually getting somewhere in our relationship

He doesn't respond for a few minutes.

does that situation sound a little familiar?

I send the text hoping to get a text back from him. I dread that I may have overstepped and said too much.

You're right.

I'm sorry. I didn't mean to undermine anything you're going through

it's alright, you didn't :)

i just don't want you to look at this negatively. i know you don't like him, or the fact that he's getting married

but you have to try to make the best out of it, right?

When did you get so wise?

I have the smartest girlfriend in the world

I nearly choke on my spit. I'm an awful, awful person. I hate this, I hate doing this.

Before I can type out another response, he says:

Thank you for letting me talk to you. I really needed to hear this

Sorry if I kept you up, love

You should go sleep now :)

it's okay, you didnt :)

text me if you ever need to talk again

I love you.

I stand up. Marching to the bathroom, I'm about to pound on the door when Julia opens it.

"There," I fume and shove her phone at her. "Now you need to get your shit together, and be a better girlfriend," I say. Julia nods, tears welling up in her eyes. "Get some sleep, I'm going back to bed."

*** Please let me know your thoughts!

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#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #mastermind

[likeshipsonthesea]

angst/fluff list 31 & 70 for nurseydex??

thank you for the prompts!! from this list. prompts 31. “You haven’t lost me.” and 70. “After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?” oof. going angst my dudes forewarning 

warning for homophobia (ugh)

The field they pull up to is lush, overgrown, and very, very green.

Dex gets out of the driver’s seat and, though he closes the door softly enough, the slam of it rings out too loud in the windblown silence. Nursey hesitates a moment before following Dex into the middle of the field.

It’s strange to come here. Whenever Nursey imagined Dex brooding, he pictured it on a beach, dark, the waves lapping relentlessly against the shore as Dex stared out across the water. In Nursey’s imagination, it was a stoic brood, emotionless and handsome.

Now, Dex looks like he’s falling apart from the inside out too fast to catch the pieces. Nursey wants to help, but he doesn’t feel much better than that himself, and he wonders, fleetingly, if this can even work when they’re both so broken.

“I’m sorry,” Dex says, shaking and quiet as the wind carries his words to Nursey.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” This Nursey knows, even if his chest aches from Dex’s lack of defense. He knows it doesn’t have to do with him, why Dex remained silent as his parents told him all the reasons Nursey was wrong for Dex, the life he’s supposed to have.

“I should have said something,” Dex says, desperate with his red-rimmed eyes, refusing to look at Nursey straight on. “I was just so–so–” He doesn’t have to say “scared.” Nursey can see it in his eyes now, feel its reverberation in his own chest, pounding throughout his body. Fear is icy and addictive. “I didn’t want to lose them,” he says, downward, resigned. His mouth screws up the way it does when his self-loathing flares too high. “And now I’ve lost you both.”

“You haven’t lost me.”

Nursey isn’t sure of much right now–not Dex’s parents, not his own parents, not even him and Dex right now, so fragile with the world around them wanting them to shatter– but he knows that, no matter what, he will not let him and Dex be lost to each other.

Dex looks up, then, eyes on Nursey’s truly, hopeful. “Yeah?”

Nursey pushes through a handful of weeds to get closer. “You’ll never lose me.”

Dex swallows visibly and looks back down. “That’s what I thought about– them.”

Nursey aches, stepping closer more to reach out and hold Dex, remind him physically that Nursey is here. He doesn’t know what it feels like to have your parents tell you you’re broken. He knows what it’s like to think it, to imagine every side glance an indication of disappointment, every unanswered text a confirmation of his own annoyance. He’s crazy enough just thinking it, though. He can’t imagine what it would be like for them to confirm it.

“I–I always knew they’d be– weird. But I never thought–” He shakes his head. “I don’t know what I thought.”

“You thought they’d be parents.” Nursey swallows down the forcefulness of his words. Softer, he says, “You weren’t wrong to believe in them.”

“I obviously was.”

“No. They were wrong in this, Dex, not you.”

Dex shakes his head and doesn’t stop, just keeps shaking until it spreads everywhere like he’s coming apart at the seams. Nursey takes half a step closer and holds him together, trying desperately to fix it when he knows he can’t.

He’s half the reason it’s falling apart, really. Dex wasn’t going to come out until he and Nursey got together, found that apartment in New York together.

“I don’t want to pretend you’re my roommate,” Dex said, frowning as he drove, the day they signed the lease agreement. “If I start that now, it will never end. Until ten years down the line, we’re making up the guest bedroom to look like I sleep there and I run out of excuses about why I haven’t found the right girl yet.”

(Despite the sadness of– well, all of that, Nursey’s heart fluttered at the implication that they’d be together for a decade. He could never quite shake the thought that they were just temporary, one slip away from ruin at any given moment.)

So they’d gone to Maine. Nursey sat next to Dex on his childhood couch as he explained to his parents that he was bisexual, he’d been dating Nursey for almost a year, and they were moving in together after graduation. And then Nursey watched as Dex’s parents broke down in a series of questions all the reasons that queerness– and Nursey– was a bad idea.

(Nursey’d been fortunate enough that every time he’d come out, it’d been to people who understood. He’d never heard genuine questions like, are you sure you’re not just confused? or have you tried harder with girls? maybe you just haven’t met the right one. Nursey doesn’t know what he’d do if faced with those kinds of questions when he already questions his own validity so often. He might just drop dead right there out of insecurity.)

As Nursey holds Dex, now, he remembers the Poindexters’ questions, remembers the well-meaning looks on their faces. Despite their intolerance, they’re still parents, right? They still want the best for their son? Their questions couldn’t be completely unfounded, right? What if… what if Nursey really is bad for Dex?

And fuck, it’s not even like Nursey can ask that now, not with everything else that’s happening. Dex can’t deal with Nursey’s stupidity along with that. Maybe it wouldn’t be bad, though, maybe Dex would be grateful, maybe he’d be glad to finally be rid of Nursey’s constant insecurity, his neediness and desperation for validation.

“Nursey?” Dex mumbles into Nursey’s shoulder. Nursey realizes that his hands are shaking where they’re pressed into Dex’s back. He can’t get them to stop so he pulls them away, which makes Dex pull away to frown at him. His cheeks are red, eyes watering, but he still looks so concerned and fuck why can’t Nursey just comfort his boyfriend without being so much of a mess that Dex has to comfort him?

The panic comes quick and hot, flooding Nursey’s body with excess adrenaline that he really doesn’t need right now, and for some inexplicable reason he imagines an infomercial hosted by his adrenal glans trying to sell him more than he needs by telling his brain it can get more for free if it just calls right now and halfway into the commercial Nursey hysterically realizes what he’s doing and tries to remember how to breathe like an actual person–

“Nursey.” Dex squeezes around Nursey’s waist. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Nothing,” Nursey says, too quick, and Dex frowns. No, bad, Nursey thinks, but doesn’t know how to fix it.

“What’s–” Dex frowns deeper. “Are you thinking about what they said?”

“No.”

“Hey, it’s okay. None of what they said about you was right.”

Nursey shakes his head. It feels like all the air he’s pulling in is getting stopped in the top of his throat, choking. He pulls away. He’s ruining this, he’s making this about himself. What kind of boyfriend does that?

“Nursey, hey.” Dex reaches for him again and Nursey flinches. “Nursey.”

“Don’t. I’m not– I’m sorry, this isn’t– I shouldn’t be doing this– why am I–” Nursey shakes his head. “You shouldn’t have to deal with me being– being me on top of–” He shakes his head again, mouth flooded with the taste of blood even.

“Nursey.” Dex’s voice is firm, the strongest he’s sounded since they left his childhood home, and Nursey looks up at him, instinctual. Dex looks– sad. His eyes are so round, so open. “After everything we’ve been through,” he says, sturdy but soft, “you still don’t think I love you?”

Nursey swallows but can’t look away from Dex’s bright, honest eyes.

(He has his mother’s eyes, Nursey thinks, half manic. She gave him these beautiful expressive eyes and didn’t flinch as she watched him crumble in front of her. How? How could she do this?)

“My parents–” Dex swallows around the word. “This was going to happen whether it was you or not.”

“You told them for me.” Nursey says it quiet, guilty, too fast.

Dex shakes his head. “I told them for me.” He smiles, briefly, full of aching. “I thought– with you, they’d see.” He reaches out and snares Nursey’s fingers with his own. “They’d see how happy I am with you and the rest of it wouldn’t matter.”

Nursey stares, heart unleashed in the cage of his chest.

“I– everything is a mess. I don’t know how–I don’t know what I’m going to do about them and– everything. But I know you. I’m sure about you.”

Dex tugs him closer and Nursey stumbles. Dex catches him.

“I love everything about you,” he keeps going, voice so quiet now, but they’re close enough that Nursey feels the words against his own mouth. “Even the things I hate, I love.” They sway with the wind and their lips brush. “I love how you never put the toothpaste cap back on. I love how you can’t fall asleep with socks on and leave balled up socks tucked beneath the blankets of our bed.” Dex smiles a little. “I even love when you forget how much I do love you, because it means I get to remind you.”

Nursey’s lips pull back despite the ebbing panic still in his chest. “Yeah?”

Dex nods and their mouths brush. “And this sucks right now,” he says, and Nursey nearly laughs at the understatement, “but I have you. That’s all I need.”

In the middle of a field in Maine, Nursey kisses Dex breathless, the both of them clinging so hard it must hurt. But, despite it all, they are together, and as long as that’s true, the rest of it will surely work itself out in the end.

#nurseydex #dexnursey #check please #nursey #derek nurse #dex #william poindexter #my writing #sort of fic #ficlet #angst #but like when do i not write angst #not tagging bc fuck tumvlr #enjoy!!! #idk what this is really #i have a headache and i'm tired #but i think it's okay?? #idk why it's in a field #just kind of happened

[destiel-love-forever]

Hi! you’re absolutely incredible I saw your recent work in the age play verse and I loved it! it made me think of a possible little Sam and Daddy Gabriel scenario revolving around his hair lol. Little Sam and little dean are playing and dean makes fun of his hair and when Sam and Gabe get home he cries and asks Gabe to cut his hair so dean would love him again. Daddy Gabe and Uncle Cas talk on the phone dean gets punished, sam’s hair is safe and the boys hug it out and dean apologizes.

Thank you SO SO SO much for this. I had a crazy week last week, and it was made worse by being cut off my internet, so I loved having this prompt as one of my things to write <3 

Read below or on AO3: Playdates & Arguments

Playdate & Arguments

“Pow pow!” Sammy yells, pretending to be the bad guy while superhero Dean takes him down. He always gets stuck being the bad guy, because Dean thinks Sammy would ruin his pretty red cape. Sammy promises he won’t, but Dean’s older, so he gets to choose.

“Psh psshhhh!” Dean makes little noises as he moves his hands, pretending to use his superhero laser powers. “You dead bad guy!”

Sammy falls to the ground, because when Dean says he’s dead, Sammy doesn’t ever argue. Sammy never argues with Dean. Dean always knows best. Well, no… Sammy’s daddy Gabriel knows best, but when on their own, Dean is the boss. He’s older, getting to wear pull-ups, drink from sippy cups instead of bottles, and watch Scooby Doo even though Sam isn’t allowed to.

“I bored,” Dean declares. “We play new game.”

“Yes! Yes!” Sammy jumps in the air, clapping his little hands in excitement. “We pway bwocks? Dee, pwease, oh, Dee pweeeeeeeasse we pway bwocks?”

“Blocks is borin’. We play new game. Daddy lemme watch princess movie. We play rescue da princess.”

“But - but,” Sammy sucks in a shaky breath, lips wobbling. He doesn’t want to play rescue the princess. That doesn’t sound fun at all.

“Come on, Sammy. No be a baby! I no play wiff babies!”

Sammy pulls himself together immediately, sniffling as he wipes at his tears. “Sowwy, Dee. I be big boy. We cans pway save da pwincess.”

“You go over dere! Preten’ yous in a biiiiiig tower, ‘n a dragon is gonna eats you!” Dean pushes Sammy toward the couch, then sets down Sammy’s stuffed pink elephant named Ellie on the floor, indicating that she’s the dragon in this scenario. Sammy doesn’t like that Ellie has to be the mean dragon. Ellie is not bad! She’s good. She makes Sammy happy. Sammy isn’t sure he can pretend, but he will try really really hard. “Oskay, Sammy. You stay dere, ‘n I be da prince comin’ save you!”

Sammy sticks out his bottom lip. “I no wanna be da pwincess… I a pwince!”

“No, you da princess.”

“I a pwince. My daddy say so. He caww me his wittwe pwince!”

“Your daddy wrong! You a princess cuz you looks like a girl!”

Sammy’s eyes well up with tears as he balls up his fists in frustration. “No I don’!”

“Yes you do! Your hair is like da princess in da movie. It too long for a boy. So you da princess. Princess Sammy.” Dean says that last part in a sing-songy voice that is clearly teasing Sammy.

“I no wike dat! Stop stop stop! I no wook wike a pwincess! I wook wike a pwince!” Sam feels his little chest quake as he begins to openly cry.

Dean rolls his eyes. “Stop bein’ a baby! It your fault you look like girls. If you no have stupid ugly hair, you could be da prince, but you a princess.”

“I not!” Sam yells, stomping his feet as he cries harder.

“You is! Or I no play wid you ever ever again!”

“Boys!” Castiel yells from the other room, making them both freeze. “I don’t know what’s wrong, but say sorry and come eat!”

Dean hurries away from the crybaby, not apologizing. Sammy stays back a minute, frantically wiping at his cheeks and nose, hating himself. He already looks like a girl because of his hair. Dean will just make fun of him more if he’s crying like a girl baby .

At least Sammy’s daddy shows up before he’s finished his snack, saving Sammy from actually having to be the princess. Next time they play, Sammy will be the prince. He just has to figure out how.

-----

Sammy thinks long and hard during his ride home, sucking fiercely on his pacifier and clinging to Ellie as he sits strapped down in his carseat. One of the three things in the whole entire big world Sammy could never ever lose is Dean, and Dean hates him now! He thinks Sammy’s hair is ugly, and makes him look like a princess. He knew being a princess was a bad thing, too, because of the way Dean said it. Sammy has played princess dress up before, with Dean in fact, but today was different. Sammy doesn’t know why. It doesn’t matter.

Sammy knows what he has to do.

The second his daddy has him in the house, setting him on the bench in the foyer to take his shoes off for him, Sammy asks, “Daddy…. Wiww you cuts my haiw?”

Working on the velcro strips of Sammy’s shoe, Gabriel shakes his head and laughs softly, “Buddy, you would be so sad. You love your hair.”

“But - but,” Sammy sucks in a breath that shudders and shakes before giving into a watery sob. “I hates my haiw!”

Gabriel stops immediately, only one shoe off of his boy. He cups Sammy’s face, confused when he finds big tears rolling down it. “Baby boy, calm down. What’s going on?”

“I no baby boy!” Sammy cries, balling his fists and kicking his feet. “I big boy! I hates my haiw! You gotta cuts it now! Wanna wook exac - ac- exac- tiwwy wike Dean!”

“Sammy, buddy, you love your hair. Why would you want to suddenly get rid of it?”

“No wuv! No no no! Hates!”

Gabriel scoops his little boy up, not caring that one foot is covered in a sock and the other has a shoe dangling on it still. When they get to Sammy’s nursery, Gabriel heads to the rocking chair. There’s a blanket there that he pulls over Sammy, his arms tightening around the boy to make him lay down and relax. Since Sammy spat out his paci earlier during his meltdown, Gabriel reaches over for another one and pops it in his mouth. Sammy looks up at him with the biggest, roundest eyes in that way that makes Gabriel feel like he’s Sammy’s whole world.

It’s by far the greatest feeling in existence.

And Gabriel would know. He’s spent his entire life indulging in great feelings.

“Alright now, little prince. Just calm d-”

“No!” Sammy grabs his paci and yanks it out. “I no wittwe pwince! I stupid pwincess! ‘N my haiw ugwy! ‘N - ‘n - ‘n,” Sammy sucks in a gulp of air, then continues to sob barely intelligible words, “Dee Dee gonna hatesmewiffugwy haiw. Needs to cuts it owbepwincessinstpwince! Pwease, daddy. Pwease!”

Gabriel looks at his little one in shock, understanding enough to know what’s going on now. “Sammy, honey, did Dean tease you about your hair today?”

Rubbing a tight fist against his eye, Sammy nods and sniffles.

“Oh, baby. That was very mean, and he is naughty for doing that. Especially since my little prince’s hair is so so beautiful. Daddy loves to play with your long, pretty, soft strands. Don’t you like when daddy does that, baby? You always smile and get sleepy when daddy does that.”

More sniffles. Then a timid, “Yeah… Sammy wike haiw pwayed wiff. Feew good.”

“See? And sometimes you like to put bows in your hair to match your pretty outfits. If we cut it, you can’t do that either.”

“No… dat twue.”

“Don’t let Dean teasing you make you do something that will just make you more sad, baby boy.”

Sammy starts crying again, though this time it’s subdued. “But - but I jus’ wants Dee to wuv me again! Cuz I wuv him wots wots wots, ‘n me supew sad he no wike me no mowe.”

“What were you two doing when he said this to you?”

“Pwayin’ save da pwincess. I da pwincess cuz my ugwy haiw. I say no, but he say he no pway wiff me!”

Gabriel nods, starting to understand the situation fully. “Dean just said those things because he wanted to get his way. He wanted to play the prince, so he lied.”

“No, Dee no wie! Wyin’ bad!”

“Everyone makes mistakes and does bad things, little prince. Even Dean. Even daddy.” Sam gasps, making Gabriel chuckle. “I bet Dean doesn’t hate you or your hair at all. I bet he was just being stubborn and wanted to get his way.”

Sammy cautiously grabs his paci again, his fingers wrapping around it nice and tight. He lays on his daddy’s chest, resting his cheek on daddy’s shoulder. He nuzzles his nose into the soft skin of his daddy’s neck and wiggles closer to him. Sighing happily at the familiar scent, Sammy lets himself relax. Dean might be bigger than him, but daddy always know best, even more than Dean. Daddy must be right. Dean is pretty stubborn. He’s heard Uncle Cas say that lots, and it’s usually while Dean is getting in trouble.”

“Oskay daddy,” Sammy whispers, coming to a decision. “We no cuts my haiw.”

“Good. Daddy is proud of you for staying true to what you want, and not letting Dean change your mind.”

That was a lot of words, and the concept is too big for Sammy’s little brain. All he heard is his daddy is proud, and Sammy knows that daddy being proud is really really good. He smacks a loud kiss on his daddy’s cheek before cuddling in closer to him.

“I takes nap now. T’s been quite da day,” Sammy informs him before sticking the paci in his mouth and closing his eyes.

Gabriel has to fight not to laugh at how fucking adorable his little baby is in his arms. Especially when he says things exactly like Gabriel does. Gabriel is always saying ‘it’s been quite the day’, usually to convince him to eat, or nap, or take a bath, or relax.

Once Sammy is asleep, Gabriel gently places him in his crib and kisses his forehead. Then he dials his brother. Castiel answers on the third ring.

“Hey, Gabe. You forget something here?”

“No. It’s about Dean.” Gabriel frowns. He loves his nephew, and hates the idea of getting him in trouble, but Sammy will always come first, and Dean broke Sammy’s little heart today. That’s not okay. “We need to talk.”

----

Dean stands in front of his daddy, hands anxiously pulling at the shirt covering his belly. His little lips are wobbling, and his cheeks are flushed and covered in tears. Castiel looks down at him with a stern frown, trying hard not to let his emotions get in the way right now. His little one needs to be punished, no matter how sad or how cute he looks.

“So, is what Sammy saying true? Did you say all those mean things?”

“I - I,” Dean stops, trying to breathe to calm himself down like his daddy taught him. It just adds fuel to his sob though, making it loud and watery as it escapes his little pink lips. “I sowwy! I sowwy!”

Castiel frowns. “Yes, well, you will be.”

When Castiel picks his boy up and puts him on his hip, heading to his bedroom, Dean starts to wail. He kicks and punches, begging Castiel in hysterics. When they are sitting on Castiel’s bed, bedroom door locked so Dean can’t run, Castiel puts Dean on his feet. “Now, you are going to get five spanks for how mean you were to Sammy. Five more for the tantrum you just threw, because you know kicking and hitting is very naughty.”

Dean doesn’t try to argue. Castiel’s not sure if he could. The boy is crying far too hard.

“Now, come here baby boy.” Dean looks up at Castiel through tear soaked eyelashes, carefully shuffling forward. When Castiel picks him up and lays him over his lap, belly down and little bum up, Dean’s self-preservation kicks in.

“P-pwease! Pw-pwe-pease pease pease daddy! No! NO spanks!”

“Hush, or you’ll get even more,” Castiel warns, using his daddy voice as he tugs Dean’s elastic waist jeans and mickey mouse pull up down to his knees. His pull up is wet, as it usually is when his little one gets upset like this, but Castiel will just clean it up later.

Dean is quiet now, his tiny body trembling as he sucks on his thumb.

That doesn’t last long. After Castiel brings his hand down with the first harsh smack, the sobbing begins.

Dean hates spankings. Hates hates hates them. He likes his daddy giving him kisses and smiling at him. He likes cuddles and hugs. Not spankings. Not daddy’s angry face. Dean hates making his daddy upset. He hates disappointing him.

He hates how his little bum burns and aches as his daddy keeps spanking him.

He hates that he hurt Sammy’s feelings so badly.

He hates spankings, but he hates the rest so much more, and that’s why he cries so hard he can barely breathe.

“Shhh, little one. Just two more,” Castiel whispers, rubbing a palm over the boy’s bright pink bum. He can see his handprint on Dean’s left cheek, and he hates that, but even as a little boy Dean Winhcester has an obnoxiously high pain tolerance. Castiel learned early he can’t just give the boy a few tiny swats. They aren’t effective. Dean cries, sure, but then within an hour he forgets.

Dean never forgets now.

The boy squirms and sobs for the last two, little fists clenched around the bunched up fabric of Castiel’s pants.

Relief floods Dean when it’s all over. His daddy picks him up and lays him on the big bed. He slips a thumb into his mouth, sucking furiously. Every movement makes his little bum’s owies hurt worse, so he stays extra extra still. He doesn’t even complain when his daddy starts to change him like he’s a baby. He just winces around his thumb, sucking it harder when the baby wipe brushes over his sore bum. Dean usually gets so embarrassed during this. He’s a big boy now. Daddy potty trained him. Accidents are so scary, and they make him super duper anxious and sad. But right now he has too much to be upset about. The accident is the least of his worries.

Once powdered, a new pull-up in place, Castiel hands Dean a paci and his huge stuffed bumble bee. He leaves the boy on the bed while he goes to change his pants that got some pee on them. Castiel throws both his pants as well as Dean’s into the wash, then returns to his bedroom.

Dean sniffles and makes grabby hands at his daddy, clearly not liking that his daddy left. Castiel scoops him up and carries him out of the room. As he walks down the hall, Castiel peppers dozens of kisses on his damp cheeks. His little one doesn’t giggle or smile, but he does finally stop crying.

“Daddy is going to make you a little snack, and get you some juice. When I’m in the kitchen, you will stand in the corner. When daddy comes back, you’re all done being punished.”

“But - but I gots my spanks!” Dean whines.

“Yes, but you were very upset and distracted during that. Now I want you to think about why you got in trouble, and what you’re going to say to Sammy to make him feel better.”

Dean looks down at the floor, bowed legs turning in even further as he touches his toes to each other. He fiddles with his stuffed bumble bee, sucking his paci hard and fast. His daddy picks him up and carries him to a corner of the living room where Dean can take peeks and see his daddy in the kitchen. That helps Dean relax a little. He has a very hard time trusting that his daddy won't leave him. Especially when he’s been naughty.

Going to the kitchen, Castiel collects Dean’s favorite pink sippy cup and pours apple juice into it. He rummages in the cabinets before giving up and heading to the fridge. He always wants Dean to eat something healthy and little after punishments. Just enough to help settle him. Once Castiel grabs a strawberry go-gurt, he heads back to the living room.

His little one behaves well. Even though Castiel knows Dean is aware his daddy is back in the room, Dean continues to stand in the corner, Dean’s pull-up covered bum facing him. Dean still has his paci in, cheeks bright red and covered in tears, nose all stuffy. He has his bumble bee tight in his arms, up against his chest high so his face is against Dean’s neck.

“Alright, baby. All done,” Castiel announces, walking over and picking the boy up. He carries him to the couch, then settles with him in his lap. Dean takes the juice when it’s offered, shaky hand removing his paci so he can drink. He chugs half of it before putting it in his lap and making little grabby hands for the go-gurt.

Once Dean’s little belly is all full, and his crying has stopped, his daddy cleans his face. Daddy pops his paci back in and helps him get comfortable with his bumble bee. This time when daddy kisses him, Dean squirms and smiles. Then he buries his face in his daddy’s neck and nuzzles him, not caring when his paci keeps bumping and getting in the way. When he settles in his daddy’s arms, feeling very sleepy but very loved, his daddy brushes his hair from his forehead and whispers, “I love you so much, Dean. So so much. No matter how much trouble you get in, always remember that daddy is here. Daddy will never ever leave you. He loves you big lots, okay?”

Dean nods and mumbles through his paci, “Me wuv daddy big wots too.”

With a smile, Castiel kisses the top of Dean’s head. That’s all the little one needs before drifting off to sleep. Castiel puts his head back against the couch and closes his own eyes, exhausted. It’s been quite the day.

-----

Dean and Sammy’s playdate is four days later. When Dean comes over with his daddy, he sheepishly peeks up at Sammy and mumbles, “‘M sorry for hurtin’ you feelin’s ‘n sayin’ all dose mean tings. I no mean dem. I wuv your hair!”

Already over this argument, Sammy just smiles wide and throws his arms around Dean, squeezing him extra hard. “It’s ‘kay. I still wuvs you!”

Hand in hand, the two go running off to the playroom. Dean lets Sam be the superhero AND the prince. They’re going to be best friends forever.

[neirawrites]

Five times Adam met Death

The First Meeting

Death didn’t look the way Adam though it would. The image ingrained in his mind, one of a scary, human shaped figure, dressed in all black with satchel in his hand and crimson in his eyes was far from reality. The woman pouring tea in his polka dotted cup was far from what he had imagined.

She could have been in her 60’s; short, plump, with dark skin and a friendly smile; someone's nice grandma who knitted socks and baked awesome cookies. The moment he found her in his kitchen that morning, he knew exactly who she was. How was a mystery, but he did, and, despite her offerings of blueberry muffins, he had never been this terrified in his 18 years on this planet.

      "So, I will die today?" he repeated his question, desperate to keep his voice from cracking, like she didn’t already know exactly how he felt. The beads of sweat rolling down his forehead and the sickly green tint of his skin would have been enough of an indicator, even if she wasn’t an all knowing, immortal being.  

"No, no, not today sweetheart. In five weeks. Today, a bat will bite you and you will contract rabies. It takes a while for it to kick in."  "So, I'll just get vaccinated now that you told me." The smile she gave him was the kind usually reserved for children asking silly questions.

"Oh, sugar, I wish it was that simple. You see, I don't make this offer to everyone, just those who could do far better dead than alive." Adam bit his lip. Even if his heart still threatened to beat itself into oblivion, he didn’t like her tone of voice. He was an adult, not some kid who knew nothing of the world.

"Gee, thanks." he said. She shook her head, still smiling.

"I didn't mean it in a bad way. The thing is, my boy, if you die, you will save hundreds of thousands lives. Millions in a long run. Do you think you could do that alive?" she asked.

"What happens if I die?"  With every passing moment, the fear that only minutes ago seemed so all encompassing began to dissipate, only to be replaced with something unexpected: curiosity.

"It would be a heartwarming story, if you ask me. Your death would devastate Masha. Such a sweet soul. She really does love you so very much. She would dedicate her life to help others in your name. She already wants to be a doctor, but your death would give her a clear direction. College, med school, specialization in epidemiology. After that, the real fight would begin. A long, ungrateful one, full of ups and downs, tears and blood. But, after 76 years, thousands of lives saved and a Nobel Prize won, the world would be 100% rabies free. All in your honor." she explained. Adam didn’t answer her right away. Her words danced in his brain for a few moments. How did he deserve someone as kind as Masha?

"She would do that? Because of me?" he asked. Death took a sip of chamomile tea.

"Yes. She is a wonderful girl, she really is. So brilliant. She will go places, do great things. All this and you just have to die."

"Easy for you to say that. I’m the one dying." he said, and she nodded in agreement. 

"I have to admit, death by rabies is one of the most painful there is. I'm reaping one man just now. He doesn't seem like a happy camper." she admitted. Adam scratched his head in confusion.

"Why didn't he get this deal?" he asked. Death shrugged. All of this was far too common for her to give too much thought to.

"His life was far more significant than his death. You all have some say in the future of the world. Some less, some more. It's rare for someone to be able to change the world almost on their own and even rarer when they get to do that by dying." She explained. He stopped himself from answering immediately. An obvious question came to his mind.

"What happens if I say no?"

"World will continue to roll on; people will die and be born, life as usual. Just more work for me. I do know I will never bother you again. You are supposed to die now. If you don't, I have no business with you anymore. I'm a busy being, my child, and I don’t have the time to nag someone who refused my services."

"So, I become immortal?" he asked. The wheels in his head slowly turned, in the opposite direction of where he wanted them to go, but he lost control of his though long time ago. A bad idea. Even before it fully formed in his mind, he knew that much already. 

"For all intents and purposes. You will never age, you won't get hurt.  But, you won't be able to interact with what's destined." she added "After 5th of September, we don’t have a matrix for you to follow and you can basically do whatever you want. No destiny, no plans. Just your own free will. But, you won't be able to have children. You will be able to interact with others, but you won’t leave an impact on them. They will remember you, but you will just be someone they know, not someone they truly care about. You will be a bystander of time."  A bystander of time. Some part of him knew that mere though should have been enough to bathe him in cold sweat, but in that moment, everything was better than the alternative.

"I can die a horrible death and be the hero or live and be a shadow, but free?" he asked before he could stop himself. Death nodded again. "What happens to Masha? In this version?"

"She will lose her destiny and become something similar. A silent, unchangeable witness of humanity. It’s more difficult to say as we do have bigger plans for her. She could probably do more than you. But, it's hard even for me to know what lies ahead, especially since she will live forever, just like you."

"So, we could be immortal together?" he asked.  He and Masha were a couple for 9 months now, ever since his first day at the new high school, where she was the first one to wish him a warm welcome, with a warm smile on her face and a blueberry muffin to sweeten the deal. Ever since that moment, he knew this was the real deal. And last night, with his parents out of town and hers thinking she was at Stacey's, they made love for the first time and Adam was sure, now more than ever, Masha was the one he would spend his life with. But, why settle for just one life?

Death titled her head. Her impossibly dark eyes, overflowing with the wisdom of billions of years, stared at him, able to read every connection the neuron in his brains made, but still caught off guard by the though they came up with.

"Are you really considering this? That is...unusual." she said. Adam barely managed to look at her. She should have been angry, kill him right here and there and them, but when he averted his eyes from a cacti plant on the window sill, he found her still staring, her eyebrows raised high, like a scientist observing an experiment not going the way they planned.

"No one ever choose life?" He searched for an answer that didn’t really matter. She shook her head.

"Oh, no. They did, but usually people go for a nobler rout. When I see something like this could happen, I make this offer that guarantees you a spot in heaven. You would be saving the world, after all." she explained "And most are happy to accept. Living in the world without any purpose drives people crazy. Most can’t handle it for too long. I have seen some say no only to go mad in the matter of few years. The loneliness they face is too much for most to handle. It’s quite sad, to be honest." But Adam wouldn’t be alone. He would have Masha.

"And in that timeline where I die, is she happy?" She frowned for a moment.

"Happy? Happiness is not an emotion that gets a person to eradicate a viral disease on their own. She will have happy times, and she will achieve her goal, but she will never be completely over it. You are her first love now, aren't you? " She had more to say, but Adam interrupted her. He had the answer he needed.

"Dying? Is it painful?" he asked his last question. Death smiled again.

"Dying is a calm and peaceful event. But, the time before you die... Well, my boy, it's not pleasant." she admitted. Too honest. Why couldn’t she sugarcoat it? "But those few weeks of suffering are nothing compared to the entirety of bliss and the impact you will leave on the world. It will be worth it in the end." She made her argument and it was a compelling one indeed.  

They both sat in his kitchen in silence, sipping tea. Her aura of calm, collected powerful being permeated the room, but Adam’s thoughts were in a disarray. His brain turned into an inferno, like it was already fighting the virus that would kill him, if he gave it the chance. Die a hero or live forever? If only she hadn’t given him an alternative because the wrong future seemed too appealing to refuse. 

Death put down her empty cup.

"So, what will it be?" she asked.

Adam never claimed to be a brave man. In fact, he knew he was a coward like no other. But, he did think himself a good one. Until now. The old lady awaited, her smile reassuring and sincere. It would all be ok, she knew that much, just like he knew the right answer. He really did. It wasn't the one that came out of his mouth.

"I can't go through with it. I'm 18, I can't die. And if Masha will be sad, I can't put her through this." Death stared at him with eyes too wise for this world, eyes that knew everything. In that moment, she knew how it would end.

She knew how full of crap he was. Fear of death was a powerful motivation, but it didn’t force him to make this choice. The opportunity of immortality did. He and Masha could be together, forever, invincible and unchanging. Forever young and free. 

"Well, I can't say I expected this. You seemed like a guy who would say yes, but the choice is yours." She didn’t seem mad, only disappointed, like she expected better than this. At least they saw eye to eye in that department. -When you walk Masha back to her house tonight, a bat will fly into her hair and you will try to get it out. It will bite you." she said "If you decide to do the… well, the thing expected from you, just don’t react and I will see you in September. I wish you all the best."

"Adam, who are you talking to?" a female voice asked from the other side of the doors. When he turned around, they opened and a short young woman walked in. When she smiled at him, he knew he made the right decision. Masha, his angel, dressed in his shirt and her dark hair in a messy bun, obviously just woke up. Her smile was all he could ever ask for. And he will get to see it until the end of time.  

"Hey, I hope I didn’t wake you up." he said. The chair opposite of him wasn’t empty for long, as Masha took the cup once again full of warm chamomile tea into her light brown hands.

"No, no, you didn’t. I was just worried your parents came home early." she explained.

"Don’t worry, sugar. It’s just us. I made you some muffins. Blueberry, your favorite." he added.

"Oh, my, you are so sweet." she said "I didn’t know you can cook."

"Well, these are my special muffins. You could say they are to die for." He chuckled at his own bad joke. 

"I have a feeling I missed something." she said, but didn’t push it and just continued to eat her muffin. 

"When you’re done, we need to get to the hospital, if that’s ok with you." he added.

"Why? Is everything alright?" She dropped her muffin and her dark eyes widen in horror. He just smiled.

"Yeah, don’t worry about it.- he assured her -I just thought I should check up on my vaccination plans."                               

                              *******************************

Author’s note: This is a pretty old piece I wrote a few years ago (when i was attacked by a dog and developed a bit of hypochondria). I fixed some of the writing issues, but the plot will basically stay the same.

If you are interested, i can publish the rest of it. Let me know if you want to be tagged

Other stories:

Sarajevo winter

WIPs

A Better World

Phantom limb 

#writing #writeblr #my writing #short story #original writing #it's my birthday tomorrow #just putting that out there

[surrounded-by-superheroes]

Queen Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Two here.

Summary; A shape-shifting girl with a bad past is recruited by Nick Fury into the Avengers. It’s there that she finally starts learning to let people in again and she’s especially intrigued by a blond haired and blue eyed Captain America. Will she learn to let him in? Will her past actually stay in the past?

A/N; LAST CHAPTER. There will be an epilogue after this, but this is it. Thanks for reading sweethearts!

Warnings; Language.

Words; 4,528

Chapter Twenty-Three

Morning

I stretch my arms out in front of me and snuggle deeper into my pillow. I sigh happily as I feel Steve’s lips kiss the small of my back, then travel up and kiss between my shoulder blades.

“Hey, don’t start something you aren’t willing to finish.” I mumble sleepily and get a quiet laugh from Steve. His finger replaces his lips and draws swirls on my bare back.

“Better?” He asks and I can hear the smirk in his voice. I open my eyes and see his head resting on his hand. He stares at me, smiling.

“Hmm. Well, that depends.” I say playfully.

“On?” He prompts and now I smirk.

“On what you do with them now.” I respond, lifting myself up while keeping the sheets around my front. He leans over and presses his lips against mine, hard, but it’s far too brief. We part and I shake my head. “Not done.” I murmur and he chuckles. I wrap a hand around his neck and pull him back to me. I kiss him harder, sucking on his bottom lip before his gently bites mine. I groan and pull away, shoving my face in my pillow. Steve chuckles and presses his lips against my shoulder.

“Now Ria, don’t you start something you aren’t willing to finish.” He repeats my words back at me and splays his hand across my back, sliding it up and down. I moan and arch into his hand, unable to help myself. He laughs and I roll over and off the bed. I groan from the impact as Steve chortles. I smirk and keep rolling, taking all the covers away from him. “Hey!” He exclaims when his nakedness is out for all the world to see. I giggle from inside my burrito as Steve covers himself with a pillow.

“Mr. Rogers, Mr. Stark is on his way to see you.” Friday says over the intercom and Steve and I look at each other like deer in headlights. I jump up and grab my clothes from the floor, putting them on as fast as I can. I laugh at Steve when he falls on his lily white ass while putting on his pants, but earn a playful scowl for it. Once I’m dressed I hear one harsh knock on the door. I take a breath and look at Steve to see if he’s ready. He’s tying the drawstring on his sweatpants, but that isn’t the thing I’m distracted by. I gasp and put a hand over my mouth in shock. He looks up at me and looks just as surprised, but he smirks instead of gasping.

“Steve! You have bruises all over you!” I whisper at him. He shrugs and walks over to the door with an arm around me.

“Well, just remember this. First, it’s your fault. Second, you have way more.” He grins and opens the door before I have time to hit him upside the head. I smile the best I can at Tony’s surprised face after the door opens and he finds a disheveled and bruised Steve and me. His eyes look between Steve and I, then he rubs his eyes with a hand.

“This is going to be so very hard to unsee.” He whispers, but when he looks up at us again he’s smirking. “I hope you were…safe?” He asks and both Steve and I turn scarlet.

“We were, Tony. Did you want to talk about something?” Steve replies. Tony nods and slips by me into Steve’s room. He stops once he’s inside to look at the sheets and pillows all around the room, then looks back at us.

“I’m so disturbed, but proud at the same time.” He fake chokes up and I shake my head at his silly antics. “Anyway, I just wanted to talk. I didn’t get the chance to talk to you much yesterday, Cap.” Tony speaks directly to Steve and my heart warms.

“Well, I’ll let you two talk.” I walk over to Tony and kiss his cheek, then walk to Steve. His eyes are still burning passionately and although our kiss seems perfectly chaste, Steve runs his tongue along my bottom lip before we part. I shake my head at him and walk out, shutting the door behind me. I grin like a fool and head for the stairs, wanting to go to the kitchen everyone else goes to. I run up the stairs to burn off some of the longing Steve left on my lips and stop once I reach my floor. I slip out and jog to the kitchen, exhilarated from last night, but slightly sad I can’t announce it to everyone. That might be a little strange. I enter and find the room to be relatively full. Grant stands next to the T.V. flipping through the library of DVDs Tony has. Sam and Clint have taken over the entire couch, legs fighting for space. Rhodes sits at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee in his hands, Vision and Wanda sitting across from him. I have to blink a couple times to make sure it isn’t a mirage, but it’s real. Natasha and Bucky are sitting in a chair together, Nat snuggled up happily in his lap. Bucky sports a few bruises on his neck too, making me feel a little better about my own appearance. I need to find a mirror soon. To make me feel better I drape my hair over my shoulders. When I walk in all eyes turn to me, then jaws drop. I feel my cheeks heat up instantly and head into the kitchen to hide behind the counter.

“Damn. Who looks worse?” Sam asks, teasing. I roll my eyes, but raise my hand, indicating that it’s me.

“That’s my boy.” I hear Bucky say happily, but Nat swats his shoulder for me.

“Take a look in the mirror, handsome.” She tells him and he smirks at her, leading me to think she has some bruises that we just can’t see.

“Can we maybe not talk about this?” I propose, making a cup of coffee myself and tilting my head towards Grant. Rhodes and Clint chuckle and I stare up at the ceiling. This isn’t ever going away.

“I think it’s nice. It’s about time anyway.” Sam says, smirking. I glare at him and think briefly about chucking my spoon at him. Resisting, I stir in some sugar and sit to the left of Clint, in the chair with a footrest. I take a sip of my coffee and moan contentedly.

“I bet that’s what you were doing last night…” Clint teases and I nearly spit my coffee out all over him. Everyone chuckles as I shoot him a death glare.

“Clint.” I warn him. He just laughs and shakes off my threats. “Hey Wanda, how are you?” I change the subject. She looks at me and smiles softly.

“Fine. Sorry for yesterday. I just needed some…time. Your memories were new to me and…very emotionally strong.” She explains and I nod, completely understanding.

“I get it, you’re totally fine. Just wanted to make sure.” I reassure her. She smiles genuinely at me, seemingly warmer towards me than before. I nod back at her, then look at the T.V. News is on, blabbering about the weather for the week. I look at the door when I hear whispering and am pleased to see Tony and Steve walking in, Tony’s arm affectionately thrown around his shoulders and his hand patting his back when they separate.

“Just know I sometimes want to punch you in your perfect teeth.” Tony says, but his tone is playful. Steve throws his hands up as he smiles.

“You already have!” He laughs and Tony laughs with him. They part when Tony goes towards the kitchen and Steve comes towards me. His eyes widen and linger on Nat and Bucky, but then his smile turns larger than I’ve ever seen it. Bucky lifts his hand and wiggles his fingers at Steve flirtatiously. Steve shakes his head and sits down with me. The chair is smaller than our usual seat, so I’m sitting mostly in his lap, but I don’t mind and neither does he. He wraps his arms around me and rests his intertwined hands on my hips. “Tony came down to talk and we did.” He whispers so no one else will hear. Everyone else is having their own conversations anyway. “He said he was still pissed as hell, but he understands. I told him everything you told me. I told him that I would try to see him as himself, not as Howard.” He pauses, his voice happy. “He told me he’d try to see me as a person and not just who his dad idolized.”

“That’s great, Steve.” I tell him genuinely.

“I know! I never thought it would happen. We actually got through a conversation without arguing.” I laugh at how giddy he is and kiss his cheek.

“I’m really happy for you, Steve.” I tell him as I wrap an arm around his shoulders. He looks up at me, his eyes shining like stars.

“It’s all because of you, Ria.” He tells me. I press my lips together to hide my smile and move my arm so I can rest my head on his shoulder. He kisses my hair and I sigh happily. He reaches over and grabs my coffee cup from the side table. “This yours?” He asks holding it out to me. I nod and reach up to take it, but he rescinds his hand and takes a sip before handing it to me. I shake my head at him and down the whole cup out of spite. I hand it back to him and he sets it back on the side table with a smirk. I push myself up and slide off his lap. I take my cup into the kitchen and put it away in the dishwasher. I nod to Tony sitting beside Rhodes as he smirks at me. I walk over to Steve and put my hands on his shoulders.

“I’m going to my room for a while, okay?” I tell him. He puts a hand on mine and nods.

“Okay. I’m going to stay. I’ve got to talk to Bucky about Nat.” He says, his eyes on the both of them. I giggle and pat his shoulders.

“Alright, tiger. Be careful. They are two assassins.” I tease and he smiles at me. I leave and head to my room, laughter following me. I enter and immediately change my clothes. I put on a light pink tank top and Bucky’s sweatshirt that he left on my floor. As well as some comfortable jeans and Nat’s fuzzy socks. Then, I start putting up everything that Tony bought for me yesterday. The comforter and pillows, the rug, the curtains, and the picture frames. They’re empty, but I’ll change that soon enough. I put a camera Tony must have hidden in the basket next to them. When I come across the paints, brushes, pencils, easel and sketch pad I smile. I go out onto the balcony and set up everything. I follow the instructions on the paints and grab a cup of water from my bathroom. I flip open the first page and run a hand over the paper, imagining what I’m going to fill it with. Grinning, I pick up the sketch pad and put it in my lap, then pick up a pencil and begin to sketch. I hum as I do it, enjoying how I don’t have to think. Once I’m done with the sketch, I put it back on the easel and wet a brush, then dip it in red. I run the color across the paper, staining it. I keep going, adding blue and pale yellow and grey to it. By the time I’m finished I’ve taken off Bucky’s sweatshirt to avoid getting paint on it, but have gotten paint all over me instead. I stand, happily staring at the painting. It’s of Steve, sitting behind his shield. His arm is slung across the top to keep it upright while his leg is laid out beside him. He has on his Cap outfit, but no helmet. I made his hair messy like I like it and made him smile the smile I love so much. I rip the page off and go inside, laying it on the desk beside the door to the balcony to dry. Holding my arms out I laugh, I’m covered in paint. I look back out at my mess. The pages of my sketch pad wiggle slightly in the breeze and I find the sound comforting. I press my lips together, then shake my head and head back out to keep painting. I’ve finished at least a dozen more before I hear someone open my door. I look up, blowing little pieces of hair out of my face so I can see. I smile when I see that it’s Steve. “Hey handsome.” I greet him, straightening up from leaning towards the easel.

“Hey, Ria. Looks like you’ve been busy.” He says and walks over to the desk I’ve put the paintings on. I put my brush down and pop up. I walk over to him as he looks through them, pressing my lips together nervously.

“I’m not sure if I’m any good, but I just…kind of got addicted.” I chatter, not sure what his thoughts are going to be. Finally, he reaches the first one I did. The one of him. I wring my hands together and stare at his face for his reaction.

“This is me!” He exclaims excitedly. I nod, happy that he can at least recognize himself.

“You were the first thing I painted.” I admit, staring up at his happy face. He looks back at me, eyes soft and caring. I scoot him over and pick up each of the paintings, showing him what I did. “Here’s one of you and I, dancing at your club. Then here’s the four of us, you, me, Nat, and Bucky. There’s Tony and I. There’s one of Grant.” I point out everyone and he nods, running his hands over the papers like they’re sacred.

“What are you working on now?” He asks, gesturing to the easel outside.

“Uh, well. I was still tweaking it, but it’s basically done.” I walk out and rip it off, then hand it to him. “Careful, it’s probably still wet.” I warn and smile at the picture with him. “It’s of the team.” I tell him quietly. Steve stares at it, a moved smile on his face.

“Victoria, this is really good. You’re a great artist.” He tells me, setting the painting down. Suddenly, his eyes light up and he goes out to the balcony. He grins at me then crouches and jumps up. I gasp and run out, looking up for him. He dangles over his own balcony.

“Steve! You absolute idiot! What are you thinking?” I yell at him as he tugs himself onto his balcony. His head pops out, still grinning, and holds out a hand for me to grab onto. I shake my head at him and shift into an eagle. I fly up and land on his balcony, then shift back into myself. Steve stands and faces me before I hit him upside the head. He chuckles and shrugs. Grabbing my hand, he tugs me into his room and to his own little desk.

“I never got to give you your gift.” He says, leafing through the small pile of papers.

“Yes, well we got a little distracted.” I tease and he pauses to look at me tenderly. Finally, he pulls out what he was looking for and hands it to me. I look up at him, surprised. It isn’t just a drawing, it’s a folder. I go to the step that leads to the balcony and sit down on it. Steve sits beside me. I open it and it’s like a portfolio, each drawing is in its own little container. At first, the drawings are of raven-hair, the way I looked when he first met me. The very first drawing is me underwater, my hair floating up around me and my eyes staring out, wide-eyed.

“I started drawing you the day we met.” Steve tells me quietly. I continue flipping through the pictures, my entire body getting warm at the thought of Steve coming back here and sketching me. The next drawing is of me punching the punching bag. My face is stern and hard. Like concrete. The next is us wrestling, smiles on both of our faces. The next is my actual face, close up, nothing else. After that is us dancing, and this is the first picture with color. He drew me with a hand in the air, smiling and staring at the ground as he spins me back to him. Then there’s us in the club and I’m pressed against him like a second skin, with that shirt that dips low in the back. He even drew the little scar I have there. The next is the skyline, the city stretching out below with an eagle flying toward the horizon. All of this drawing is blue, showing his sadness. Next, I’m in the cage sitting Indian style. The only thing colored in this drawing is my eyes, they’re blue, like Steve’s. The next drawing is us in my room, dancing once again. He even wrote out, ‘A nightingale sang in Berkeley square’ in the far right corner. I turn the page and find a beaten, bruised, and bleeding Grant and me. I laugh a little and run a finger down the drawing fondly. Then, there’s me in the cage again, yelling at my parents. Everything is colored but my parents, they are obviously purposefully without color. Bucky, Steve, and I come next. The three of us are staring out of the paper, arms wrapped around one another. After that there’s the two opposing sides with me in the middle, a hand laid over Steve’s chest. I come to the last picture and have to wipe the tears out of my eyes to see it properly. It’s a drawing of just me. I’m laid out on Steve’s bed, my hair draped over his pillows and the sheets dipping down just above my ass. The picture is excruciatingly detailed, down to the freckles on my face and the scar on my back. I set the folder down beside me gently, then look at Steve. He looks back at me with joy clear on his face. Obviously, I loved his gift, and he can tell. I swallow so I can speak clearly.

“Thank you. This is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever given me.” I tell him with my teary voice. He reaches over and wipes my tears away even as they fall.

“I just wanted you to know it was never about how you looked, or about your past. The moment I met you I was enraptured, and that feeling just grew over time. I love you, and I don’t think I’m ever going to stop.” Steve tells me sincerely, confidently. After a few deep breaths my tears have dried, and I’ve drawn closer to Steve. I reach up and put my hands in his hair.

“I love you too, Steven Rogers. You are more than I ever deserved and I’m unbelievably lucky to be the one loving you, and being loved by you.” I tell him just as genuinely. He kisses me tenderly, then we part for a moment. At least before he grins and puts me on his lap. I laugh as we kiss, making Steve smile against my lips. My legs wrap around him as he stands, taking me to the bed. He lays me down gently and slips his hands under my tank top, squeezing my hips. Just then I hear a knocking on the door. We part with a groan, but I’m secretly laughing. Steve sighs and stands, heading towards the door. I sit upright on the bed to watch him.

“Look, I was sent to tell you both that it’s your turn to make dinner. Probably because no one else wants to find you two having sex. I don’t either, but I kind of have to do what Natasha says or she’ll knock me out.” Bucky says from the other side of the door. By the time he’s finished I’m almost crying from laughter. Steve shakes his head as he walks to the door. “By how much Victoria’s laughing I’m guessing you aren’t having sex unless Steve has a really small-” Steve opens the door as fast as possible and throws himself out the door, tackling Bucky to the ground. I hear an oomph then laughter, so I figure it’s alright. I get up and grab the portfolio of drawings, setting them back on the desk. I don’t want anyone else to see them, so I’ll leave them here for now. I head to the door and smile at my two boys lying on the floor.

“Really, you two?” I ask them with a hand on my hip. Their head turn towards me and they smile.

“Hey Victoria.” Bucky greets me, eyes scanning the paint all over me amusedly. I move forward and pull him up to his feet, then Steve.

“Hi Bucky. So, you’re with Nat, huh? Congrats.” I congratulate him as we start walking up the stairs, Steve beside him. He nods.

“Thanks. It’s nice to have something normal.” He says. I grin.

“Normal is overrated remember?” I remind him and he smiles at me, remembering. “Steve, what are we even going to make for dinner?” I ask, not knowing a single thing that we have in the fridge or pantry. Steve shrugs.

“No clue. We’ll just have to see what we have.” He responds. Bucky shakes his head and talks to me.

“I’m surprised they’re letting this punk cook at all. Did you know that he nearly burnt-”

“Down your apartment while trying to make you breakfast?” I finish for him, giggling. He smiles at me.

“You knew that?” He asks me happily. I nod.

“I asked Steve how he learned to cook and he told me that story. I’m glad you both survived living together. Seems like you two would get into a little too much trouble.” I tease and they both chuckle. We walk into the kitchen and Bucky sits at the bar as Steve and I dig through the cabinets and the fridge.

“Well, did he tell you that time I had to save his ass from being squashed in an alley?” Bucky asks, leaning forward on the counter. I turn and look at Steve’s face, full of disdain.

“No, he didn’t. But you definitely should.” I tell him excitedly.

“Come on Buck, I was a kid!” Steve exclaims. He holds up a box of spaghetti noodles to me while Bucky scoffs. I nod at Steve, understanding what he’s saying. I grab a jar of spaghetti sauce from the fridge and meatballs from the freezer while Bucky scolds Steve.

“Stevie, I can name at least ten times where I saved your ass after you turned twenty.” Bucky pegs Steve and Steve focuses on making the noodles as I giggle.

“Hold on, we’re talking shit about Steve? I’ve got to hear this.” Sam comes over and sits beside Bucky, seemingly already comfortable with him.

“Oh geez, here we go.” Steve says under his breath. Bucky and Sam face each other competitively.

“Every time I turned around this skinny, asthmatic kid was getting into fights in alleys with multiple guys. Every time, I’d come and bail him out of it.” Bucky says, then stares at Sam expectantly for his rebuttal.

“He almost got me blown up and crushed inside a building.” Sam responds. Slowly, everyone else either gets up and comes over or enters the room from the hallway, but eventually everyone is in the kitchen listening to all the stupid shit Steve’s done.

“He ziplined onto a moving train.”

“He showed up to my house with Natasha when people were trying to hunt them down and kill them.”

“He lied on his enlistment form. Multiple times.”

“Aw, seriously Steve?” Rhodes says disapprovingly. Steve sighs and nods.

“I would do it again. People were laying down their lives. I had no right to not do the same.” Steve states. I go on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek, loving his patriotism. He gives me a small smile and continues cooking. The boys don’t stop and apparently have plenty of ammo left.

“He jumped out of an elevator that was over ten stories up.”

“He’s jumped across a building that was collapsing while it was exploding under him.” Everyone stops and looks at Steve after that one. Having no defense, Steve continues to stare down at the pot the noodles are in.

“I now have plenty of things to bring up the next time you say I’m being reckless, so thanks fellas.” Tony breaks the silence and everyone hums in agreement. Steve sighs again and stares daggers at Sam and Bucky. They grin at each other, then realize what they’re doing and immediately frown.

“You know, you owe me a steering wheel.” Sam says and Bucky activates his bitch face.

“Sure, I’ll make sure to bring you just a steering wheel. Would you like a pink cover on it with sparkles?” Bucky sasses and Sam stares at him with a deadpan look.

“Funny, very funny.” Sam says quietly. Bucky grins at winning and looks at me. He winks and I shake my head at him, but I’m smiling.

“Okay, I’m done. Steve?” I ask about his progress and he sends me a thumbs up. “Alright. Everyone grab a plate,” Steve grabs the plates and sets them on the counter with a handful of forks, “and a fork then make your plate. Make a line and try to be civilized.” I announce and take the plate and fork Steve hands me with a thankful smile. I make my own plate, then Steve, then everyone else. There’s only a small amount of grumbling, but it’s mostly from Sam and Bucky who were foolish enough to get into line together. After everyone is seated we start to eat. There’s no throwing of food this time, except a meatball thrown at Vision. No one knows who threw it, but I have a sneaking suspicion it was Wanda by her smirk and how she’s suddenly laser focused on her food. Vision doesn’t eat, but he sits with us anyway, happily contributing to the conversation. Thankfully, Sam and Bucky are separated by Natasha, so the only things they throw are dirty looks. Steve and I’s chairs are very close together, our thighs pressed against each other. As we eat I look around the table, smiling so much it hurts. This is my family and I wouldn’t take any of them any other way than this. Thank goodness, they feel the same way.

The End.

Epilogue.

#queen #queen chapter twenty-three #victory #victoria #steve #rogers #steve rogers #cap #captain #captain america #love #romance #marvel #marvel romance #captain america romance #steve rogers romance #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fic #captain america fanfic #captain america fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #cute #sweet

[fly-pow-bye]

Powerpuff Girls 2016 - “Never Been Blissed”

Written by: Jake Goldman, Haley Mancini

Written & Storyboarded by: John West, Alicia Chan, Angela Zhang, Caitlin Vanarsdale

Directed by: Nick Jennings, Bob Boyle

Yeah, it's not much of a blessing.

A decade ago, the Professor, out of jealousy of another scientist who did the same thing, concocted the original, and most powerful Powerpuff Girl. Her name was Blisstina Francesca Francia Mariam Alicia Utonium, or Bliss for short! She's the most powerful Powerpuff Girl ever, but she causes problems because she can't control her powers. Ultimately, she has to learn to not try so hard, and soon she would be moving entire planets back into orbit!

No, this is not an excerpt from a fanfiction, this is an official character from a official reboot. Because of the fans' frothing demand for new Bliss, Cartoon Network decided that the world needed a second Bliss episode.

Well, maybe that's not entirely the story. This episode had one scene already ready to go by the end of 2017 to be featured in a promo dedicated to 2018. Either the draft to air for this show is extremely short for an animated cartoon, or the crew and/or Cartoon Network already assumed that Bliss was going to be a beloved new character and greenlit another episode. I have more than a few hunches that it is the latter.

While her first special was a 50% mess, I would be lying if I said I was not interested to see what happened to Bliss. Bliss isn't in my top 5 worst characters. To make a long story short, I wish I could expect better. To make this short story long, let's get into the episode.

The episode starts with a janitor talking to his mop about how the kids these days make such a mess, comparing it to a meteor hitting the ground. Sure enough, a meteor hits the school. Nobody reports on this meteor hitting a random school, and nobody seems to care about it. Speaking of not caring, this janitor does not really do much and actually disappears halfway through the episode, only offering a few attempts at humor and nothing else. This is something the episode does a lot.

We immediately cut to the Powerpuff Girls home the next morning, I assume, where Blossom is making a batch of cookies for the upcoming Spring Fling. Because she is a nerd, these are soy mash cookies that taste horrific. Before we can get an awkward yet fitting scene where the Professor tries to lie to keep his children's spirits up, the door bursts open. Literally.

Bliss is back from space, and my standards were so low that I was surprised to not see Bliss be on Earth with no explanation whatsoever. Bubbles immediately wants gifts, and she gets one: a wanted poster with a picture of an alien named Sporde. While she was in space, she was hunting down this alien, and it happened to crash land right near the school.

The Professor decides to join in, too, as he just got a job as a substitute teacher! He wants to shape those young minds, and he learns that he's just out of touch with today's cool youth. You're better off not knowing what the self-proclaimed "King Cool of Daddy-O Street" does in this episode, it never leads to anything funny. Add him to the list of useless characters in this episode, alongside that janitor.

Speaking of "out of touch with our cool youth", we get another potential plot alongside the cookies and the Sporde: Bliss has never went to school. This plot is immediately thrown out when all the popular girls accept her because she has cool hair and a wicked dress. The Powerpuff Girls have that same wicked dress; I guess it is all about those...thigh-to-knee socks? White pants? They still never really explain what those are.

After that plot was wrapped up, and thrown downtown into the nearest garbage can, we go back to the “Powerpuff Girls trying to look for Sporde” plot. Buttercup hangs Barry upside down, dropping his lunch money and candy. Bubbles literally just pounces on Big Joey. One will never believe who Blossom gets to fool around with with far more time than the other two!

Of course, good ol' Jared Shapiro. His last major appearance had him be this awkward nerdy friend, but he's back to being the generic love interest brick here. Just look at how subtle this romantic plot is displayed.

Blossom: Jared, if you're not an alien, then you'll eat these cookies and tell me you love me...uh, I mean, them!

Jared Shapiro: (completely avoiding to acknowledge...anything) Yummers!

Yuck-ers. There is some good news: while everyone else manages to survive Blossom's cookies, Jared is not so lucky. Blossom asks him if he wants seconds, not realizing that her soy cookies just make Jared have a bad reaction.

No, really, Jared falls to the ground and remains nearly motionless in a pit of his own drool. This is the last time he ever appears in this special, not even appearing in the big dance. Good, the less needless romance scenes, the better. Blossom decides to take this as a no, not really worried about it. Being oblivious appears to be a common trait with the Powerpuff Girls in this episode, and a few other characters, too.

That may even include Bliss, as she does what could be the most expected "joke" you can think of when she encounters a girl with orthodontic headgear. She proceeds to roughhouse her. No worries, the girl tells everyone that the new kid touched her hand, and everyone wants to touch it. Bliss: so awesome, she could bully someone and still be popular!

Bliss talks about how there's no possible way to unless we see a trail of slime. Only in this one scene, we see a trail of slime, and immediately after, she gets tackled into a broom closet by a new character. This is as subtle as it gets, and you'll know what I mean later.

After fighting each other and accusing each other of being the alien, they decide to introduce themselves. This guy, who looks like if Ben Tennyson was a contestant on Total Drama Island, introduces himself as Logan of the Universal Protection Bureau.

Yes, Logan. This special was in production long before the Logan Paul Youtube scandal, but that is a sad coincidence. A coincidence that will not get even worse later, surely. Anyway, he's an alien fighter from the Universal Protection Bureau, and he's also looking for the Sporde. He's top-ranked, he's also an outsider, and he's already starting to flirt with Bliss.

They almost immediately get lost in each other's eyes, because we got to have some romance in this. There's even a running gag where they almost kiss until they get interrupted by someone, in the first case it's the wacky janitor and his wacky mop. This episode does re-confirm that this is an elementary school in a completely random Sherlock Holmes reference; Logan may as well be the only other teenager here.

That never really seems to come up, by the way. Everyone is just fine with these people who are 6-10 years older than everyone else hanging out in elementary school. Considering a lot of the students look like high school students already, I could see how it would not cross even the viewer's minds.

They meet up with the Powerpuff Girls, who have yet to get a single lead on Sporde. They're not consistent on whether or not there's a "The" in his name, so neither will I. The Powerpuff Girls have no idea what this Universal Protection Agency is, but they seem to agree that this Logan is completely trustworthy! I was almost worried.

As an aside, Blossom is happy that the cookies are surprisingly doing well with all of the kids that aren't Jared. Buttercup tries another one, only to find out that they really are still terrible. But do not tell this to Jennifray, who is really getting into the cookies, shoveling them into her mouth. She's also turning purple and growing fangs!

It turns out, only an alien would want to eat Blossom's cookies, but Blossom still does not realize this means her cookies were really terrible. Buttercup does her best by flying in to bash this aliens head in. I always imagine that one scene in Three Girls and a Monster whenever these scenes pop up where Bubbles just counts down to the inevitable Monster Punch Girls Down.

Sure enough, Monster Punch Girls Down, womp womp. Every fight scene in this episode is just a slideshow slow motion beatdown. Two exceptions, the second will come later, and the first being a shot where the Professor is listening to 80's music while this carnage is going on.

What is surprising is even Bliss gets knocked out. In fact, Sporde manages to pin her to the ground. I guess they had to counter all of those people who accused her of being this overpowered original fan character by showing that, yes, Bliss can get a terrible face reaction shot, too! She even has to be saved by one of the Powerpuff Girls. Just one of them, in fact, though she does get some help from the plan master.

Blossom tells Bubbles to use a battering ram, and she hits Sporde with a ram aura. And...that's it. Once hit by a ram aura, Sporde spits out a maggot, which Logan zaps with his ray gun. Mission accomplished, says Logan.

I can just imagine Sporde just being this tiny little maggot trying to take over the universe. However, it does contradict a little on what has been said about Sporde being a shapeshifting alien himself. There's still 13 minutes of special left, and there will be an explanation.

The first part ends with this shot of a bunch of those Sporde maggots coming out of a water fountain. This is a decent hook, though I could imagine that what it led to already happened, considering, you know, Jennifray.

The second part is where it "goes off the rails", quoting one of the characters here, not my own opinion. If you wanted to watch this episode without being spoiled on the main twist, then stop reading now. Don't worry, your expectations are not going to be entirely subverted.

← The Trouble With Bubbles ☆ Sugar, Spice, and Super Lice→

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We cut to the still-unnamed-outside-of-that-one-short-but-at-least-Elementary-school Spring Fling, and Bliss is wearing her best outfit and a new hairstyle that would actually work on making her not fail the Matt Groening Sillohuette Test. By the way, have you noticed they forgot her headband this whole time?

Bliss and Logan are still doing their lovey-dovey shtick, and outside of some talk about beating up trash lizards, there is not much talk about his role as a space defender. It's still a better romance story than Blossred, which, as mentioned before, never shows up in this episode again. Logan, as a gift to make her even more beautiful, decides to give her something special.

Huh, a necklace. Just like the one from the title image, except the heart isn't broken here. It is almost as if it will eventually be broken in away that will be detrimental to Bliss. That can not possibly be the case, especially if we do not consider that the Powerpuff Girls were victims to this exact thing before. Bliss even tries to do another kiss, only to be interrupted by...wanting punch? They throw that running gag away, too.

What are the other Powerpuff Girls doing? Blossom is trying to sell these cookies, which are still doing surprisingly well. Despite being the genius, she never suspects a thing about it. Buttercup acts as the party's bouncer, a perfect job for someone who can lift people upside and steal their lunch money.

Bubbles gets to be on trash duty, because, as also mentioned before, the Janitor just disappeared from existence. While Bubbles is singing a song about taking out the trash, she eventually notices, also via song, that she's surrounded by a bunch of alien pods, which look like the Sporde ones Bliss was telling her about. Hey, it could have been something else. This is Townsville, after all. I think.

Bubbles gets Blossom and Buttercup to investigate this. She gets Logan too, as she still remembers he is supposed to be this space detective and not the love interest.

See, Logan makes a slasher smile, and fires his ray gun three times. We weren't clued in by that puddle of goo, or the fact that he's that one character we haven't seen before. Well, that and the janitor, but we already saw that he existed before the meteor, so it couldn't be him.

Logan goes back to Bliss, hoping we all forgot about that last scene, and decides to sing her a song by turning his ray gun into a guitar. Of course, Bliss is loving it, making that face. All I'm thinking of is when this guy is going to transform. And sure enough, Bliss's necklace starts to glow green and starts to sap her energy. Before she can ask what is going on, we get to see the real twist.

Logan: Sorry to cut this chord...

Logan: ...because I AM THE SPOOOOORDE! (transforms)

Bliss: What...you’re The Sporde?

Really, he was The Sporde the whole time? One of the first reactions anyone had to that description was that Logan was going to be the alien. It was not even a matter of if he was going to turn into the alien, but a. how they were going to do the reveal, and b. if they were going to add anything on top of it.

They did, actually. That "Sporde" reveal in part 1, possibly the one without the "the", was an admittedly clever bit of misdirection. I could see this reboot completely changing direction from a superhero action comedy to a generic romance, and, of course, they don't entirely do this.

Also, cool transformation scene.

Right after this big reveal, we get a quip from the Professor. Oh yeah, he’s the DJ now. It is as if they cannot ever go full action; we have to remind people this is a comedy by interrupting it constantly with these scenes. Anything is better than the intentionally poorly animated wacky faces, but this is not much of a step up.

Another riff from the ray gun guitar, and the other students turn into the Spordelings. It even rips apart their clothes. Sporde finally explains that the cookies were the source of their energy. Blossom's response to this is to cry about how nobody really liked her cookies.

The Reboot Puff we know and love interrupt this dramatic scene, revealing that they survived. The best we get is one line about how the ray gun just was not powerful enough to keep them down. That ray gun scene turned out to be pointless, and, much like to this episode's twist, I am not surprised.

The Reboot Puffs actually do a good job fighting the minions this time, even though just one of them was able to beat down the Most Powerful Puff. Maybe they didn't have as many cookies. That seems to be a general Season 2 trait; good at fighting the minor guys, but once the big guy starts attacking, the Puffs are as good as captured.

Sure enough, they do get captured, as The Sporde has the ability to spit sticky green goo, putting the Powerpuff Girls that saved Bliss in the first part of this special out of commission. It turns out, there's no room for the main three in this episode. Really, outside of saving her in that one scene they only put in to give Bliss some form of weakness, they don't do much outside of being oblivous.

With all hope lost, The Sporde airs his greivances about Bliss. He's not here to take over the Earth, he's only here because Bliss keeps going from planet to planet, destroying his pods. I do like how Bliss looks demented here. This is Sporde’s point of view, after all, that should be more common with villain flashbacks.

He also calls Bliss worthless. That came out of nowhere, though I can not exactly disagree with that notion. Maybe it was related to that "Bliss trying to fit in to this school" plot that they really did not get into. Sporde tries to deliver the final blow with his scorpion tail, only for Bliss to use the last of her power to move the guitar that was powering that necklace in front of her.

I am glad to see that Bliss punching the ground wasn't the result of a Katie Kaboom-style teenage meltdown. Do not remember Katie Kaboom. That is not a question, you should not. Instead, this punch is the equivalent of about 50 battering ram auras, making all of the Spordelings spit out their maggots, tranforming all of the students back to their former selves. It magically makes their clothes grow back, thankfully.

There is a huge contrast. Power of Four, the Powerpuff Girls had to team up to fight the main villain. Here, they’re stuck in Sporde’s...mouth goo. Bliss has to save herself in this situation, and she does. Considering how they built this alien up as this dangerous shapeshifting menace, the whole Sporde fight scene is just him getting whacked across the walls with telekinesis and that's it.

While they had to prove "The Power of Four" in her first episode, this scene shows off that Bliss can handle a huge fight all by herself. This even comes with Bliss thanking Sporde for showing what her purpose is: to be her own superhero in a spinoff series. Okay, they don't put it that way, but that's how it came off to me.

Bliss is not going to stay, of course. I'm not going to spoil how they write her off this time, but there is a reason why Bliss would be handing out wanted posters, and destroying pods. I kind of wish they would have focused more on that backstory than this school dance plot, really. To not give everything away, it would have been more honest.

Bliss leaves, the Powerpuff Girls and even the Professor begging for her not to. She tells them not to worry, because she'll be back for Sunday brunch. Yeah, that and the Bliss spinoff that this is not a pilot of. Judging by this episode's ratings, I would not hold my breath for that.

Does the title fit?

Despite the running gag, Bliss never actually gets a kiss. Not even from her own father figure!

How does it stack up?

A half hour “alien invading a school prom” plot was obviously going to be a let down compared to an hour and fifteen minute duel with the devil. Thinking back, this episode does manage to be better than most of Power of Four; there's no terrible retcons, and Bliss isn't necessarily that bad here.

I have softened up from my initial first impression, but this episode has its fair share of problems. It’s predictable, there’s a lot of wasted time for bad humor, and the ending just seems like it insults the original Puffs for the almighty glory of this new original character. Compared to the first Bliss special, it doesn’t become as much of a mess as the middle, but it never really gets as good as its beginning and end. A Neutral.

Next week, the Powerpuff Girls have to fight a different sort of evil invertebrate than usual.

← The Trouble With Bubbles ☆ Sugar, Spice, and Super Lice →

#ppg 2016 #powerpuff girls #fpb ppg 2016 #cartoon network

[theawkwardterrier]

In Brief Delight, In Joyous Strains

For my Steggy Secret Santa giftee, the delightful @plumandfinch! I hope you enjoy, and have a wonderful Christmas.

AO3 link here.

The girls invite him to the dinner that they’re having, though Tillie jokes that it’s just because they’re all tired and want to draft him into cooking. The hotel they’ve been parked for their Christmas break has a tree, and he actually earns enough that he’d be able to put something under it this year.

But they ended up in Delaware for the week, close enough to Washington that when Senator Brandt had mentioned “a little Christmas Eve get-together” that he was having, Steve hadn’t been able to come up with an excuse.

The party is in some swanky downtown hotel. Steve had worked for a while as a waiter at a slightly less ostentatious place in Manhattan, and he almost wishes he was holding a tray tonight. Even the senator had thought that sticking Steve in his costume was ridiculous, but the uniform that was recommended instead feels even more false and uncomfortable. You don’t earn a uniform like this with magic muscles and some good stage patter. The only blessing is that they hadn’t stuck on the medals Captain America had allegedly won during his soundstage missions. Steve goes out of his way to avoid the actual uniformed officers there tonight; they don’t seek him out, which helps.

On the other hand, everyone else at the party seems as if they can’t think of a better thing to do than spend Christmas Eve shaking his hand. More than one couple tells him that their children have seen him in the newsreels or at a show, that they’ve been collecting the comics where he’s featured, and he smooths his face and resists the urge to ask whether their children will really be more pleased with Captain America’s autograph than with their parents spending the holiday at home.

By ten in the evening, Steve’s hand feels so sore that he’s considering asking for a refund on the procedure. Instead, he spots a door down the hallway with a little plaque beside it reading Library. He grips a smile to his face as he moves slowly through the room, and within five minutes, he’s leaning with his eyes closed, his back against the door, and letting out a sigh.

“Well, Captain, let no one say that your evasive maneuvers aren’t impressive.”

He startles up, not because he doesn’t recognize the voice, but because he does, immediate and disbelieving. He scans the room, all the stereotypical private library trappings - heavy wood panels, fireplace, shelves and shelves of heavy, pompously bound books - until he notices her face peering shadowed from behind a high-backed brocade armchair.

“Agent Carter.” He checks around the room once again, just to make sure he hasn’t stumbled into some sort of top secret meeting and happened to miss an entire group of military members and covert operatives. Apparently it’s just her, or else he needs to give spies a hell of a lot more credit. He steps forward. “I hadn’t realized you were here.”

“Colonel Phillips was detained and sent me to appease the room in his stead.” He still can’t see her entirely, but her tone indicates that Colonel Phillips has been detained by his lack of desire to attend this event. Agent Carter gestures, motioning Steve to take a seat in the chair beside her.

“I don’t actually remember Colonel Phillip being the appeasing type.” Steve comes around the chair to sit, just in time to see her smile.

Agent Carter has her hair perfectly curled, her lipstick still fresh at the end of the night. She wears her uniform rather than a formal dress, and it looks like she’s earned it.

“Typically I am the more conciliatory of the two of us. However, like the colonel and Mr. Churchill, I also began to find appeasement a bit ineffective this evening.” She holds a book in her hands, a slim volume that doesn’t match those along the walls. She closes it, looking down at the cover and then back up at him. “One can only be told so many times that it was a shame that all the boys were overseas or I could be at home instead of forced to enlist. I generally prefer a more stimulating conversation without quite so much pigeonholing.”

Steve leans back in his chair. He wants to unbutton his jacket, but hers is so regulation crisp. “I don’t think that you’ll find that here. This crowd is pretty happy to pigeonhole.”

“It is an especially unfortunate way to spend Christmas Eve.”

“I’m sure you had plans, too,” says Steve. “Bet your family wishes that they could see you.” He says it softly, trying for casual, but he knows that she likely picked up on his attempt to find out more about her.

Fortunately, she just looks amused. He’s stepped in it every time they’ve been around each other thus far, so maybe she expects it by now. “Unfortunately, with the demands of my work, a celebration together was never likely.”

“Well, you must have some family traditions. Maybe we could recreate one here.”

Something changes about her smile, something to do with the blink of her eye, the tip of her head. “We’re a largely traditional family, I have to say. My father and brother would insist on singing through our old book of carols in its entirety, despite their dreadful voices. My mother would make a decent turkey that would keep us in leftovers for days, and she would invest hours in getting the pudding absolutely perfect. And at the end of the night, we’d all end up toasting things in the sitting room fire.” There’s a closed door nostalgia to her voice, a sense that she’ll never be able to go back to those tender times. She blinks, sighs a sharply audible breath in and out, and when she’s finished, she looks wry instead of soft and sad. “One year my brother almost lit his socks on fire. Then he outdid himself the next by nearly catching my hair.”

“We already have one step taken care of in the way of traditions.” Steve gestures to the fireplace in front of them. “I bet we could scrounge up something to toast.”

“There’s isn’t much in here to put in the fire except the books,” she reminds him. “I don’t think they’ll toast well, and I do have a firm stance against book burning.”

“I don’t think anyone here’ll miss ‘em,” Steve says. He has the feeling that he’d have to cut apart the pages himself to open any one of the volumes lining the shelves, and he wouldn’t even be surprised if he opened up the fancy covers and found only white paper. “But I take your point.”

“And what about you? Any Christmas traditions that we can attempt?”

“I always looked forward to the orange in my stocking. One year, I forgot to fix up the hole in my sock and I guess the orange pressed on it all night ‘til the hole was big enough for the orange to slip out and roll away. I spent half an hour trying to track it down. I didn’t even think our place was big enough to hide something for that long.” He grins a little, remembering how steamed he’d been. Now the memory feels sweet and cushioned, the words needing gentle, loving speaking. “When I finally found it, my ma told me I should be glad it was an orange and not an apple - no bruises on an orange, and the skin it was sitting around in peels right off.”

She laughs. “Good advice. Very practical woman, your mother.”

“She really was,” Steve says. He has relaxed a bit in the chair, feeling finally a bit comfortable with her, feeling heart-full in a way he hasn’t in a long time. He’s about to tell her about the time his mother had gotten him watercolors and let him use them on the windows when he was confined to bed for half of December and into January, but the door opens behind them and they both still.

“Rogers, good, there you are.” Senator Brandt’s loud voice makes Steve suddenly aware of the sounds of the party still in progress outside. “Break’s over, Ned Fuller’s finally here and he’d love to chat. And if you could figure out a way to bring up your feelings about flood control, I think it’d really be worth your while.”

Steve forces himself to stand. He locks eyes with Agent Carter, pressed small and silent in her armchair with her feet tucked up, no broad shoulders or stray elbows to give her away. She gives him a smile and a wink. He knows he must smile back - it’s automatic, smiling when he looks at her - but the senator leads him away before he can even mouth a goodbye.

The party finally ends, the last people laughing and waving at Steve and the senator. Steve waves back, hoping they’ll mistake his gritted teeth for a smile, and considers how big a headache he’d have if he could still get headaches.

They’re putting Steve up in Washington for the night, but not even Captain America gets as ritzy a bedroom as the ones in the hotel where the party had been. He’s staying across town, and after the endless shaking of endless hands, he’s never been happier to see a simple bed and dresser setup.

His eyes already closed, he flops onto the mattress, trying not to do it with his full weight, and lies facedown for a moment, his hands draping off the bed and onto the floor.

His fingers brush against something just poking out under the dust ruffle. Frowning, he grasps it and picks it up.

The orange doesn’t come with a note. He puts it on his nightstand, and the next morning holds it carefully the entire train ride back to Delaware, where the girls tease him for not coming back with a better souvenir and tell him he’s looking strangely goony-eyed.

He doesn’t know how exactly it got to his room, but he has a good enough idea.

Continue with part 2...

#plumandfinch #steggysecretsanta #Steve/Peggy #Steggy fic