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sebastianswallows · 26 days

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The English Client — One

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: none for this chapter, just Tom being grumpy and hating the world

— WORDCOUNT: 3k

— A/N: This is a fic that was commissioned by @localravenclaw as a gift for @esolean 💕 It's going to be a bit of a rollercoaster, with angst and fluff and smut galore. I plan to post twice a week, Mondays and Fridays. I had a lot of fun writing it, and I hope you will have fun reading it, my dears! 💚

Tom was twenty-five. It had been seven years since he graduated from Hogwarts, and just as many since he started working at Borgin and Burkes. Now, he found himself in a sweltering place with the world passing him by. Trapped, for his sins, in a moving metal coffin. If this was hell, it looked like rolling hills, houses nestled in the fog, narrow rows of poplars and puffs of grazing sheep, all set to the tune of clinking chains and carriage shuffles. He hated this assignment.

After taking the train from London to Dover, he caught the ferry that sailed to Calais, and from there took a series of coaches and trains meant to take him on to Italy. To Rome. They had just stopped in Lyon to pick up more passengers, and now they were on their way again.

He had fought with Burke regarding the logistics of the whole thing. Why couldn’t he just use Floo like a normal wizard? But the miserable old stoat said he’d sooner trust muggle transportation than Tom’s pronunciation of Italian or French — and besides, was Floo even networked all the way down there? It didn’t matter anymore.

Tom was convinced it was all done to save costs, and perhaps for Burke to not have to call in any favours. So off he went with one measly suitcase and two billfolds of franks and lira — all of which were merely enchanted oak leaves. They would inevitably transfigure back to their original form in a couple of weeks or so, but by then Tom should be long gone. Who said money didn’t grow on trees?

He tried to distract himself from all this misery by checking his notes again. His little book cracked open, snapping at the spine, and its insides were revealed to him like a cadaver cut through with a black spidery scrawl. It was a list of books and authors, with observations added vertically on the side to save space.

“The Secrets of Wisdom, N. Tamisso 1650 — high priority, any edition. The Lost Word, B. Trevisan 1661 — low priority, optional. Delomelanicon (or The Invocation of Darkness), A. Torchia 1666 — first edition, mandatory.” The latter word was underlined three times. His notes continued with the instructions Burke had given. “Check the rare book dealers, antiquaries, private collectors if necessary. If you can not find it, find out who can. If they will not sell it, take it anyway.”

Tom’s lip curled. Whatever joy there was in being away from the squalor of Knockturn Alley was soiled by what he had to do in Rome. It wasn’t the books he minded, and in fact, he quite admired Burke’s taste in this matter. But to be flung so far away from home on such short notice, and for such a length of time, was pitiful to him. The heir of Slytherin turned errand boy…

“Excuse-moi, est-ce que — Oh, bonjour.”

Tom turned his frown toward the sliding doors of the compartment, between which stood a young man in his twenties. Lanky brown locks fell into his eyes veiling the crinkles of a smile.

“Yes?” sighed Tom.

“I was wondering if this was free,” said the boy. And without waiting for an answer, he dragged his luggage inside — three suitcases, all leather with copper fittings looking ready to burst — and closed the doors behind him.

“I suppose it is,” mumbled Tom. He subtly closed his notebook and tucked it back into the messenger bag at his feet while he kept track of the stranger from the corner of his eyes.

The fine quality of the newcomer’s clothes was somewhat disguised by how carelessly they hung around him. His white and starched shirt was loosened at the top, revealing a hint of tanned skin sprinkled with sparse curls. A golden pin kept a red and blue striped tie affixed to it, and around his pinky finger was a silver ring thickly laid with marcasites and crowned with a malachite stone. His lips were full and purple-stained from wine. His eyes were a bright blue. Judging by his pressed trousers and clean leather shoes, he was a gentleman who had arrived at the station by car — or, at least, he was the spoilt brat of one.

“Clement,” the boy grinned, extending his hand.

“Tom,” he replied, giving him a firm, brief shake.

“I’m on my way to Rome!” Clement sighed, plopping down onto the seat opposite him. Almost immediately, he cracked open a cigarette case and started fishing for a lighter in his trouser pocket. His luggage lay strewn all around the floor, suitcases filled with junk, no doubt. “You?”

“The same,” Tom said and instantly regretted sharing anything at all. With people like these — the overly friendly types — it was best to not encourage conversation.

“Oh, magnificent. Vacation?”

“Work.”

“How sad,” tutted Clement as he popped a cigarette between his lips. He offered one to Tom as well.

“Don’t smoke.”

“Ah.”

He closed the case with a loud click and set it on the table between them. With a smooth, almost theatrical motion, he lit up his pocket lighter — silver, older than him, probably an heirloom, engraved with an elaborate floral motif featuring a fleur-de-lis — and let the flame dance on the tip of his cigarette until he was satisfied.

“Don’t talk much, either,” the boy chuckled. He kept his eyes on Tom as he took a drag, then started puffing away without a care. He attempted to blow rings of smoke but failed. “What do you use your mouth for, then?”

“Cursing, mostly.”

Clement laughed. “The same!”

Tom doubted it.

The compartment soon filled with smoke, and the narrow window open at the top only made it dance around inside. The muggy summer fumes were driving Tom to madness already, and he could only hope the train moved fast enough to clear the air. But as they went further into the rural parts of France, the scent of sheep took over. Maybe it’s not too late to try to Apparate directly at the station, he thought.

“So, what do you do?” asked the French boy, vowels gliding altogether in one breath between his lips. His arm extended elegantly to tap the ash into a cheap tray by the window.

It took Tom a moment to look at him and answer. “I’m in, er, publishing.”

“Truly?” he said, excited enough to lean over the table. “That’s magnificent. I intend to be published too.”

“Oh? What do you write?”

“Poesies.”

“Poetry? Ah, not my area, I’m afraid.”

“But you must know some people…”

Tom wanted to tell him that if he were any good he’d have found a publisher already, but intuition told him to temper himself.

“I might,” he said, “but I’m afraid I’m full up at the moment.”

The boy puffed away nervously as he tapped the round gemstone of his ring against the window, and kept his eyes on him. Tom turned to watch the view rolling past them, seeing without seeing. The sensation of being watched was as familiar as it was discomforting. It crawled down his thin cheeks, his narrow neck, and from there sank into his clothes like sweat. He gazed briefly at the tapping ring from the corner of his eyes in irritation, before focusing away again. For a few moments, he thought he’d successfully ended their conversation.

“Well, I’m in show business,” Clement said instead, grinning brilliantly. There was a gap between his first incisors that made him look boyish and pure. “Theatre.”

“Your parents must be very happy.”

“No,” he laughed. “Miserable. But,” he shrugged, “it is not their decision.”

Tom hummed and said nothing else.

“Your parents are happy with your job, no? You go on important business trips to France, to Rome, and… erm. Well, it is a good job, for sure. Makes them proud, yes?”

Whatever sunshine beamed through the window was chilled and clouded by the glare in Tom’s dark eyes. Why did this bothersome Frenchman have to talk to him? He wasn’t going to keep doing it the whole way to Rome, surely…

“I wouldn’t know,” he finally said. “They’re dead.”

“Oh… Oh, I am so sorry...”

“I’m not,” he mumbled. He didn’t think Clement had heard him, but he wouldn’t care even if he did.

The boy pulled the ashtray closer and put out his cigarette, then leaned his head against the glass. Fidgeting, he held the silver case in his hands and clicked it open and closed, open and closed… He did that for quite a while.

Tom could feel him staring. Could even sense to some extent the messy thoughts inside that head: curiosity, intrigue, and joy.

What could be joyful about that moment?

Well, if Tom was being honest, this wasn’t the first time he’d had such an effect on people. Memories of Burke’s clients came back to him accompanied by the customary shiver down his spine. Clement had the same flippant merriment about him that all the others did, those careless old witches and wizards. That unguarded look of innocence surrounded by the fog of greed. An airy absence of thought and feeling. Must’ve been the side effect of all that money.

Tom had once envied such people. Had even flattered himself with the knowledge that he, however distantly, was one of them. What greater destiny than to be born to glorious old blood? What greater tragedy than to be fallen from it…? He could even remember, with much clarity and shame, how he’d spent several months during his third year obsessing over the Gaunts and Riddles, chasing up on genealogies, and smattering the back pages of his diary with heraldic designs.

But the more he understood the upper classes — their uselessness, their inborn idiocy, their paradoxical sense of superiority which stood impervious to anything reality threw at them — the more he grew to hate them.

“I am sorry if I offended…” said Clement rather softly. “Sometimes, I talk too much.”

“Oh, really? I didn’t notice.”

“No, but I do, I do…”

Tom had overshot his subtleties, apparently.

“So you are not happy with your job? Forgive me for asking…”

“No, it’s quite alright.”

“A pity, you know…”

“Why?”

“To not like it.”

“Oh, it’s not too much trouble most of the time. Why? Do you like your job?”

“But of course!” he said, blue eyes twinkling.

Tom cast a scathing look his way. How strange… He couldn’t imagine enjoying any form of employment — other than the coveted post of DADA professor at Hogwarts.

“Why are you in Rome, then?” Tom asked.

“On vacation. I am, erm, meeting a friend,” he whispered with a grin.

“A girlfriend?” asked Tom with a smirk.

Clement shook his head and giggled. “A boy friend.”

Tom’s brows nearly reached his hairline. He’d never heard of such things being bandied about quite that openly before, at least not in England. Clement seemed not to care. Must’ve been a habit of his, as he seemed to not care about much at all other than enjoying life.

“You have a fun vacation ahead of you, then.”

“More than you know,” he winked.

Tom curled his nose at that and sat back, away from the whole conversation. But Clement leaned closer, arms braced over the table lazily, eyes flashing excitedly.

“We will rob this old fool, and run with his money.”

That captured Tom’s attention again. The boy was waiting eagerly for his reaction, and not a thought ran through his head that Tom might’ve been untrustworthy. Of course, far be it from him to ruin someone else’s fun, but the scenario Clement proposed was too absurd to be believed.

So what else could Tom do but laugh? The sound of it filled the cabin, and so out of use were those muscles that his cheeks began to ache. The sight of it seemed to delight young Clement. He leaned back and gave another one of his brilliant smiles.

“You can join us, if you like,” he offered smoothly.

“Sorry,” said Tom, his cheeks still flushed. “My schedule is full.”

“Oh, pity, pity… You would like my friend, I think. His name is Donatien. He is more serious, like you.”

“Is that so,” said Tom distractedly.

“By the way, what is your hotel?”

They entered Rome on a train that ran six hours late, and wobbled on its tracks, and stank of mouldy cheese and wine rust.

Clement talked most of the way there, and seemed to be satisfied with Tom mostly reacting with brief hums and tilted smiles. They even exchanged gifts. The French boy was enchanted by what was, in Tom’s estimation, a fairly average switchblade. He’d only taken it out to peel an orange. It was something he’d bought in London right before his seventh year, and although it was quite plain, it did have some delicate embellishments on its ivory handle of two writhing snakes. That seemed to appeal to Clement, who offered his own blade in exchange — a Swiss army knife that also had a screwdriver and bottle opener tucked in its red body. Considering it a more efficient deal, Tom shrugged and accepted the trade.

Faint details came up now and then about his plans with this Donatien, but most of it was lost in smoke and loud metallic rattles. As much as Tom hated flying on brooms, even he could agree it would’ve been preferable to this…

But at least he didn’t have to fear any Ministry or Aurors in these parts. Not any that were familiar with him, anyway. The Italians had their own Ministry of Magic, of course, but it was all the way down in Mirto, Sicily, and foreigners were a low priority for them. There were so many people from all over the world in Italy those days that it wasn’t worth keeping track of them all, or at least so Burke had told him.

The train slowed and pulled into the station, and pulled, and pulled… It groaned as if in pain. Clement took the jolt of inertia as it all came to a stop with cheerful clapping, and promptly got up to collect his bags.

“So, we are agreed?”

“Absolutely not agreed. Besides, I doubt my lodgings would be to your taste.”

“Ah Tom, you do not know my taste!”

“Very well, but best keep your complaints to a minimum once we get there.”

They struggled to get everything off the train with four suitcases between them. Tom was travelling light with just the one, about which Clement made some snide comment that he soon forgot, but he helped him anyway. His own belongings consisted of plain muggle clothes and some books that Burke wished him to barter with, if it came to that. Between the lines, and between Burke’s sparse and slimy brows, Tom understood he was expected to use his charms to get a bargain price — as per usual — but he did not intend to let some fat old antiquary put his grimy hands on him. Not this time. Besides, conversing with Clement had stained his dignity enough.

Being away on the continent had one advantage, at least: he was no longer under the vulturous watch of his employer.

Tom stepped out onto the platform, muscles sore from days of sitting down, and looked ahead as if he knew where he was going. People were chatting all around him, filling the cool hall with murmurs all the way up to its dome — some in German, some in French, others in variously accented English. Tom wiped the sweat off his brow with his sleeve and picked up his suitcase to follow Clement, who was hunting for a trolley to load his luggage onto.

As soon as they stepped out onto the street, the heat of Rome in August hit Tom in the face like an oven door and he, frail and pallid thing, was not prepared for it. He squinted in displeasure, to Clement’s great amusement.

“This way, Tom!” he said as he popped on a pair of sunglasses. “I see a taxi!”

Tom had spent most of the journey brushing up on his Italian with the help of a conversation guide he picked up at the Gare du Nord. His extensive knowledge of Latin came in pretty handy. But now that he saw Clement handle things, perhaps he needn’t have bothered. His companion could easily direct the driver to the dingy old hotel Tom was staying at, the Gallienus on Via Domenichino, and chatted a bit more besides.

“Vacation in Rome often, then?” he asked.

“I just know some phrases,” Clement smiled. “You don’t need much with these people.”

The driver pretended not to understand the slight.

“Where do you want to have lunch, then?” Clement asked.

“Lunch? I’m certainly not in the mood, not now.”

“Oh come ooon…”

“You can eat on your own.”

“We can leave our stuff and take the taxi to this place I know on Via della Mercede. They make the best seafood, the best!”

It had not been until now, with this journey to somewhere far away, that Tom realised how limited his world had been at Hogwarts. He’d once felt equal parts ashamed and at a strange advantage next to the other Slytherins, his peers, all purebloods, for knowing both the magical and muggle worlds. Now, exiled for this assignment among strangers, it seemed to Tom as if he were starting life all over again. He looked out the window and everything was new, everything was strange. The buildings, the street, the people, even the clothes were different. The city, like London, was massive, but the streets were broader, blazing white. Some disappeared into little alleyways that slithered like dark serpents. Tom could easily see himself getting lost in such a place.

It was… humbling. He didn’t like it.

#Tom Riddle #Tom Riddle x reader #Tom Riddle x OC #Tom Riddle fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #sswallow;fanfics #sswallow;made a thing #fanfic;englishclient #whew here we go 😭#I dread to think of adapting the masterlist for this lol #I might make a separate post just for all of its chapters #there will be 40 in total

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junkissed · 1 year

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sounds of the season

day four of junkissed’s svt season’s greetings event

member — radio host!junhui x reader genre — fluff, college au word count — 1.7k synopsis — when your university’s radio show hosts a matchmaking event to raise money, you figure, what have you got to lose? the question you should be asking is, what have you got to gain? warnings — jun is so awkward but we love him, this is pretty dialogue-heavy sorry notes — lowercase intended. also i know nothing about how radio works so if i’m wrong just ignore it lol

this is part of @svthub's snowventeen winter collab! be sure to check out the collab masterlist here and support our talented writers! this collab contains both sfw and nsfw fics; minors dni with nsfw fics.

edit 12/27: i have added a part 2 on my nsfw blog @onlyhuis! it is smut so minors dni. you can read it here!

one reblog = one holiday song on the radio

“that’s the end of today’s program, everyone, thanks for tuning in. remember to sign up for our ‘matchmaking for charity’ event while you still can! for every successful match, we’re donating $20 to toys for tots, so be sure to get your application in so we can find you a special someone this december. link is on our instagram, and our website, sdu.caratsradio.org, go check it out.”

a different voice follows. “we’ve been sounds of the season on 111.7 fm, hosted by our very own communications undergrads. have a great weekend, sdu students! we’ll see you back here monday at six for more holiday tunes.”

jazz study music from the next hour’s program begins to play as you sigh, closing the tab on your computer open to the school’s website.

for the last few weeks you’ve been listening to shining diamond university’s student radio station; more specifically, you’ve been listening to the duo that hosts the holiday music hour every monday and friday at 6pm. the festive music puts you in a better mood, but what you’re really there for is the hosts’ voices. their tone is so calming, most days you like to turn on the station in the background while you do your homework. something about the way they speak helps you focus. whoever they are, you could listen to them talk for hours.

there’s probably pictures of the hosts somewhere on the website, but you haven’t gone looking for them. you’re a little afraid that realizing that they’re not just pretty voices on your laptop, and knowing that there’s real-life faces connected to them would ruin the experience. so for now, you’re content to just imagine their voices and let your brain fill in the blanks.

you’ve been tossing around the idea of signing up for their event back and forth in your mind for a while now. being matched with a stranger at school just sounds nerve wracking, but at this point, you haven’t got much to lose. the worst that could come out of it is another bad date. plus, it’s for charity. you don’t know exactly what the parameters of the event are, but even if it doesn’t work out with whoever you’re matched with, you figure you could always just act like it did so the charity still gets the money.

what the heck, you figure. maybe it’ll be fun.

a week after signing up you get an email with info about your match and instructions on when and where to meet him. on saturday at noon he’ll be at the far corner of the café in the campus dining hall wearing a white hat, and you’re told to wear something blue so you can recognize each other.

when you get to the dining hall, the guy sitting at the table in the far corner is… attractive, to say the least. you would even call him your type, if you knew anything about him besides the fact that you’re on a blind date with a randomly paired listener of the program.

“hey! you’re my match, right? i’m junhui.” he stands up, greeting you with a shy smile. he’s deceptively taller than he looks sitting down, and you take him in for a moment.

“yeah, that’s me! nice to meet you!”

“can i buy you coffee?” he asks eagerly. “um, or whatever they have at the coffee shop.”

“oh– sure!” you say. you weren’t sure what you’d been expecting, but you hadn’t been expecting him to be so polite. “thank you.”

“of course,” he smiles.

you stand in line together at the register, and you order a cheap drink off the menu. but as he’s telling the barista his order, something clicks.

“hold on, you sound… really familiar.” you squint, tilting your head. he takes the two cups from the barista and looks over at you, confused. all of a sudden the realization hits you, and your eyes widen. you’d know that voice anywhere. “wait, aren’t you–”

he nods sheepishly, handing you your drink. “yeah, i’m one of the radio hosts.”

holy shit. “that’s cool that you signed up for this too, though. did one of the comm professors match people, or was it random, or…?” you ask, trailing off to let him answer.

“no, me and jeonghan put the matches together. so it was on purpose.” his fingers toy with the cardboard sleeve of his coffee cup, and he lets out a nervous laugh. “would you hate me if i told you i matched us because i’ve had a crush on you since we had com101 together?”

“really?” you laugh. blush creeps into his cheeks. “honestly, i barely paid attention in that class, i only took it for the credits.” you stop, realizing how that must sound to him. “i mean, no offense! i wasn’t trying to be rude, i just–”

he shakes his head quickly. “i get what you meant. and, it was a pretty big class, so. easy to not know everyone.”

“why didn’t you say anything? i know i probably looked grumpy in that class, but i promise i’m not,” you say, adding a smile that you hope looks encouraging.

“no! it’s not you,” he rushes to explain. “i’m just not that great at talking to people.”

“but… you host a radio show?”

“it’s not the same. i’m not truly talking to anybody but jeonghan. there’s a monitor that shows us how many people are listening, but i ignore it.” he leans back in his chair. “i have to do it as part of one of my classes, but i actually really enjoy it now.”

you smile. “that’s good that you found something you like.”

he clears his throat, taking a small sip of his drink. “so, do you, um, listen often? you don’t have to say you do if you don’t, by the way, i won’t be offended. just curious.”

you debate lying to not expose yourself, but he looks so excited to hear that you can’t honestly tell him no. “actually, yeah. i listen almost every program. you have a really nice voice.”

the tips of his ears turn bright red, and immediately you feel awkward again. “sorry, is that weird to say?”

“that’s—no, not at all!” he stammers. “i think it’s a really big compliment. thank you.”

“yeah,” you add, not sure how to respond without making things weirder. you’re both silent for a second, the busy sounds of the dining hall’s café filling the room in the absence of words.

after an almost uncomfortable amount of silence passes, you laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “so, uh, what do we need to do for this to be considered successful?”

“huh?”

“for the charity thing. how do you decide what gets donated and what doesn’t?”

his focus snaps back to you. “oh! we’re donating for all the matches, even if they don’t work. we just said that as, like, an incentive so people would sign up.”

“oh.” you nod, thinking.

“did– did you want to leave?” he asks shyly. “i don’t wanna keep you here if you’re not enjoying it.”

“did you want to leave?” you counter.

“well… no,” he says. “but i don’t wanna force you.”

“you’re not, don’t worry,” you say, shaking your head. it’s awkward, for sure, but it’s far from the worst date you’ve ever been on. the least you could do is stick it out for another half hour or so.

“sorry this is so weird,” he laughs. “i don’t go out a lot.”

“it’s fine.” you smile at him, hoping he’ll relax a little. “is that why you signed up for this?”

“well, kinda,” he nods. “i was hoping i’d recognize somebody’s name and maybe make a new friend. but this is good, too.”

you fight the urge to frown, since it’s obvious he’s trying his best, but you’re confused at his statement. “what do you mean, ‘this’?”

“i… don’t know. what do you think this is?”

“a date,” you say simply.

“oh!” he says, fiddling with his cup again.

“is that what you want this to be?” you ask gently.

“i– yeah, that would be really cool,” he grins, nodding. “a date.”

you smile at his enthusiasm. he’s cute, and his personality is, too.

“so, what’s working at a radio station like?” you pry. having finally been able to meet the man behind the voice you’ve heard so much of, you can’t say you’re not more than a little curious about who he is.

“oh, yeah, you like hearing me talk, sorry,” he says. your face heats in embarrassment, but before you can defend yourself, he continues on. “um, it’s pretty fun. the machinery’s pretty cool, the microphones and stuff. makes me feel like a professional singer or something. even though it’s more just choosing music to play than me actually talking.”

he looks up. “you can come by while we’re live sometime, if you want,” he says. “the studio’s really nice, they have beanbag chairs and somebody always brings snacks.”

“is that allowed?”

“sure! you can be my special guest,” he grins. “only if you want,” he adds a second later, as if he’s just thought of something.

you smile warmly. “it sounds fun. i’d love to.”

his face lights up. “great! can you come monday? we’re announcing the results of the matchmaking thing then.”

“i’ll be there.”

he pauses. “is this… a second date?” he asks tentatively. god, he’s adorable.

“yes, this is a second date,” you giggle.

he stands up. “should i walk you to your car? or is that too much?”

he holds the door open for you as you step outside.

you laugh. “no, my apartment’s on campus, i just walked here. but thank you for the offer, you’re really sweet. and thanks for the coffee, too.”

it might be because of the chilly december weather, but his cheeks seem a little pinker than before. “no problem,” he grins. “i’ll see you monday, i guess? for another date?”

“i’ll see you monday,” you confirm with a smile.

he waves, still grinning, and pulls out his phone. as you start to walk away, you hear his voice from behind you, “hannie, dude, you won’t believe what just happened!!”

you giggle to yourself. you can’t wait til monday.

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thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed! if you liked this, reblog or leave an ask or a comment, it shows me you enjoyed this so i know to write more like this in the future!

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neverevan · 4 months

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Fuck It Friday ☔️

I was tagged by @daffi-990 @jamespearce9-1-1 @eddiebabygirldiaz @wikiangela and @jeeyuns thank youuu 💛

Aside from some editing, my Christmas fics are all done and now I can slowly return to my main wips, so I thought I'll post a snippet from Eddie's pov in the mudslide fic (most of that part is just too spoilery and I rarely share from it, but this bit was waiting to come out for a while now, so here 🫶).

He mostly thought about Christopher; imagined him waking up in the morning, pestering Buck for breakfast and news he couldn't give, going to school and coming home, sitting at the dining table, doing his homework… Just normal things.

He would’ve given anything to be with them right now. To walk out of his room in the morning and see Buck’s sleep-rumpled face, his curls flat on top of his head, his smile lazy and crooked and his bare feet on Eddie’s living room carpet.

To watch the tattoos shift on Buck’s naked shoulders as he stretched and to hear his hoarse voice as he mumbled out a quiet “morning” on his way to the bathroom. To smell the scent of his overnight sweat still lingering on his skin while making their coffees side by side, waiting for Christopher to finally shuffle out of his room for breakfast.

To hear the sleepy mumble stifled in his own ribs as Chris gave him his good morning hug and see the toothy grin tugging at his lips as Buck entertained him throughout breakfast, making him giggle with his silly facts and jokes.

To yell “come on, we're gonna be late” at the front door as Chris ran back inside for a book he forgot and then to yell again after Chris was back but Buck just realised he had left his phone on the kitchen counter.

To sit in the car and talk about after-school plans and listen to the radio on a low volume before dropping Chris off with a hug each and then to bundle back into the truck and head to work together, barely just having enough time to stop for one of those creamy coffee monstrosities Buck liked so much — that somehow Eddie learned to like too, only if to indulge in the fantasy of what Buck’s lips would taste like on his own.

✨no pressure tagging: @malewifediaz @spagheddiediaz @hippolotamus @disasterbuckdiaz @nmcggg @thewolvesof1998 @watchyourbuck @theotherbuckley @fortheloveofbuddie @ladydorian05 @rainbow-nerdss

#this is gonna be so domestic you just wait #gonna get back to this asap but I slept 3.5 hours last night and didn't really have any writing mojo today #but there is still saturday and sunday!#and then from next thursday I'm gonna be home for 12 days #which SHOULD be enough to finish the mudslide fic and the breeding fic #and then hopefully I could get closer with the jealous eddie fic too #gah I know I'm rambling but I'm so excited to have all this free time to write about my boys #🥹#I'll shut up now #buddie #911 #wip #the mudslide fic

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70s-show-diary · 3 months

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I am beyond excited to announce that I will begin posting my first multi-chapter That '70s Show fanfic in over 5 years (!) starting this coming Friday, January 19, 2024! This fic is fully-written and edited and I plan to post a new chapter every Friday.

Title: Liminal Space Summary: From their heated kiss on Veteran’s Day to the return of their half-hearted animosity come Hyde’s Christmas party…and everything in between. A cerebral and emotional exploration into Jackie and Hyde’s complicated relationship and the liminal space of time that existed in those handful of weeks when their relationship seemed to change so drastically after they kissed. (Rating: General Audiences/K+)

Fun fact: I started writing this fic almost a year ago after I returned to Tumblr. I came across this post that I made back in 2018 and decided I wanted to explore in more detail what could have transpired between the episodes "Jackie Bags Hyde" (3x08) and "Hyde's Christmas Rager" (3x09).

#That '70s Show #Jackie x Hyde #my fanfic #Liminal Space #fanfiction #Jackie Burkhart #Steven Hyde #That 70s Show #T7S #T7S fanfic #also - I hope this explains my absence as I have been in full editing mode for the last month #hoping to be around on tumblr more now that this fic is fully finished and ready to go!

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j-u-u-z-o · 7 months

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Do. Not. Disturb. (Isshin x F.Reader) NSFW‼️ 18+

AN: Hey guys! It’s been quite a long time since I’ve written a fic! This has been in my drafts for almost two months and I finally edited it. I hope my writers block ended cos’ I’ve been coming up with new ideas for my next works as well! Anyway, this was fun to write. I really like this hairy shinigami. I hope I executed this perfectly. Enjoy~ ❤️😩

Synopsis: the title says it all. Will you be able to get through it all and quietly??? Let's hope you do.

Like, comment or reblog would be greatly appreciated! 🥰

⚠️WARNING: 18+, NSFW‼️, DO NOT DISTURB!, Oral (f.receiving), smut, GRAMMAR.

Read my warning or I’ll slap you.

✨Also, there’s an extra if you make it all the way to the end! ✨

_______________________________________________

It’s 10:02pm and you and your husband are on your way home from a dinner date. A surprise dinner date that Isshin planned, in fact. You two have been married for two years now and he is still head over heels for you - ever since he met you at Karen and Yuzu’s high school, for parent-teacher conference.

You looked out the window - admiring the night sky and neighborhoods passing you from inside the car.

“How was the food, honey?” Isshin asked, making a left turn to the house. You turned to look at him, “It was so delicious, ish’. The curry chicken over miso ramen was the best in my opinion!” You clapped. “Especially the jazz performance…also…”. As you spoke, isshin hummed in satisfaction. He loves hearing your voice. It sounded like you’re singing softly to him. “Hmm. You should’ve went on stage with them, hun.” “No way!” You giggled. “You know i have stage fright.” You pouted, caressing his free hand while he drove in the direction of the house. “I know but you would look so angelic on the stage. in front of me, especially.” He smirked, turning his head to you. “Just know… that I’m always here for you, honey.” He said, signaling a right turn and driving into the neighborhood, to his shared home.

Isshin pulled up to the driveway and parked.

“I had a great time, though.” Isshin mumbled, putting the gear in “park” and then turning his head to you. You looked at him and nodded. “Me too.” The driveway light illuminated across your face - your eyes looked starry under the fake moonlight. Isshin sighed. He can’t get enough of your beauty. “I’m glad.” He said, caressing your check with the back of his hand.

You both walked to the front door. Your hand held on to his. Isshin pulled out his keys to open it. “Thank you for the surprise date, love.” You said softly, leaning your head on his arm and you looking up at him. “Anything for my lovely, wife.” He responded, leaning forward over to leave a kiss on your forehead while turned the door knob. “I love you, y/n.” He whispered. You smiled softly at his endearment and held his hand tightly. “I love you too.” You whispered back.

Before he opened the door, he wrapped an arm wrapped around your waist and asked, “Downstairs or upstairs?” You giggled at the sudden request. “You choose.” you said, stepping into the genkan of the house. His fingers dug into your waist, lovingly. “Hmm…Downstai-“

“Oh. hey Dad. You’re late.” Karen waved at him, nonchalantly - while sitting on the couch. “Hi Y/n.” She smiled at you. You reciprocated and greeted her softly. Isshin’s blank face looked like he fell off a ladder. You walked to Karen and saw Yuzuru sleeping on her sisters lap. “Hi, yuzu.” You whispered, stroking her hair. She looked adorable while in sleepy land. You noticed that isshin hasn’t said anything. You turned around, “Isshin?” He still stood there like a mannequin.

He blinked. And blinked again. “Wha- ahem. it’s passed your bedtime young lady. It’s almost 11pm.” He tried to sound like the adult in here but failed. “And I should be the one saying that.” He referred to Karen’s earlier comment, putting his hands on his hips. “Isshin.” You called out softly. His eyes glanced at you. “It’s only Friday. Karen’s football practice starts tomorrow afternoon.” You reminded, walking towards him. “Did you forget?” You looked up at him. Your dowey eyes weakened him. Isshin frowned a bit and sighed. “They can stay here for another hour.” You smiled softly, raising a hand to stroke his covered chest. “Good.” You spoke, turning to Karen. “Would like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.” You asked, Karen nodding while watching whatever was on the screen.

You walked into the kitchen.

Isshin followed you to the kitchen and helped you gather the items. “You’re siding with Karen, now?” Isshin said, trying to hold back his grin. You spread the peanut butter across the bread before you said, “No. Let them be.” Isshin stood next you and eyed you softly, wanting to listen to you more. “Besides, we still have our…free time.” You said, focused on putting the loaf covered with jelly on top of the other and then looking at him. He hummed in amusement, wrapping his arms around you from behind. “You’re right.” He kissed you right cheek.

Minutes passed and you walked into the living room and you gave Karen the sandwich and put the other one for Yuzu, on top of the coffee table. Isshin waited for you by the steps as you bid them goodnight. He gently took your hand in his and walked upstairs - leading you to the shared bedroom. You felt lucky to be with someone like him. His hand is always in yours, showing you and everyone else that you are his and he is yours.

Isshin closed the bedroom door behind you and gently placed his hands on your cheeks. Instantly, his lips met yours, slowing wrapping them around yours, passionately. You raised your hands to grip his wrists as he kissed you. His lips felt warm against yours. “Mmm.” You moaned while his tongue danced around yours. The slow deep kisses went on for a while until he reluctantly broke the kiss. “Now. Time for dessert.” His thumbs caressed your cheeks, turning you around and walking you to the bed.

You sat down on the end of the bed, watching your husband kneel down on the floor. He pulled you down closer to the end of the bed, spreading your legs apart, and moving your feet to either side. You’re didn’t say anything, You just followed his ministrations and pushed up your skirt; anticipating what’s to come. You pushed the heels of your feet deep into the mattress to keep them from slipping off the edge of the bed.

“Someone’s eager tonight.” You giggled, leaning back on your hands, watching him below you. He chuckled, “Well I was worried that I wasn’t going to get my dessert.” Isshin said, stroking your inner thighs, slowly. You hummed. He leaned forward and kissed your covered pussy. You felt his lips wrapped around the covered nub and kissed it again. The wet sounds of his kisses against the fabric started to make you hot.

Isshin continued his task until a big wet patch was formed on your panties. You felt the wet patch and moaned. He then swirled his tongue and you gasped when you felt the pressure of his tongue bump your clit. “Ooh.” Your moans echoed in the room. It almost. You hummed when he flicked his tongue slowly against the material, with enough pressure. “Ahh…Isshin.” You hissed, squirming against the appendage.

Isshin kissed it once more before he placed his fingers on the waistline of your panties and pulled it down. He threw the forgotten fabric away in the room and grinned at your puffy pussy. “So pretty.” He mumbled, using his forefingers to open your lips and then leaning closer to leave gentle pecks around it.

Your short breathes goes unoticed and isshin stops to look up at you. “You okay, honey?” He asked, rubbing your inner thighs. You nodded. Isshin was already turning you into a needy mess: your lips already wet and needy from his earlier ministrations.

He knows.

Isshin moved up to kiss your needy lips while his fingers rubbed your pussy in circles. You whimpered in the deep kiss as you slowly pushed your hips up against his hand. You felt the tingles of your folds rubbing against his warm and rough fingers. “Ahh..” you moaned in his mouth, your clit throbbing each time it bumped against his fingertips. He broke the kiss and moved down to leave open mouth kisses on your neck and down to your chest.

His fingers circled your clit with enough pressure until one of them teased your entrance, while he sucked your nipples. “Ooh Isshin.” You stroked his hair, your body leaning forward to his ministrations. “Mmm.” You groaned, watching him move down to spread see your lips opened like a watered flower. “Look at that.” He praised, his fingers exploring your folds. You twitched when his index finger slowly flicked your clit. “So beautiful.” he smirked, slowly sticking out his tongue and leaning in closer to your pussy.

“O-oh!” You shuddered, his thick tongue began licking your clit and down to your cunt. Again and again. You stroked his hair around as you watched your husband. The wet sounds from his tongue flicking your clit filled the room with your deep exhales. “Feels so good, Ish”. You whispered, his groans vibrating on your folds. Your hips jolted when the strong appendage licked side to side. “Oh fuck.” You whispered out, breathing heavily.

“So delicious, honey.” He spoke, eyeing his work done to your pussy for a moment. Rubbing your folds. Isshin leaned in again and open mouthed kissed your pussy. “Oh yes.” You said thickly, your clit throbbed from getting all the attention from his warm lips. Your head fell back and you kept giving him whispered praises while he mouthed and swiped your clit. “Right there, issh.” You praised him when he sucked it, gently. He looked up at you when you leaned back and pushed your hips up to his face slowly. Your shaky moans sounded like a melody in his ears. “Oh yeah, i-ssh-ah.” You breath hitched, your eyes rolled to the back of your head each time he circled your clit.

His bristly facial hair added fuel to the fire. It rubbed against your thighs. You raised your right leg and placed it over his shoulder. You bit your lip when isshin pushed his head deep in your thighs - his mouth exploring more of your cunt. “Ugh.” Your head fell back again. You’re in pure bliss in this new position that you rolled your hips against his mouth.

“Mmm.” He groaned, moving his head side to side while mouthing your pussy. Biting your lips, you closed your eyes and focused on his tongue exploring your cunt. The wet sounds coming from his open kisses on your cunt bounced off the walls as his saliva dripped onto the blanket. “Oh!” You gasped, his tongue kept circling your clit. “Issh-!” You rolled your hips as he circled his tongue your clit. “Fu-.”

Knock

“Dad? Y/n?” You both looked back at the locked bedroom door. Isshin’s almost snapped his neck. You froze, your heart sunk deep in your stomach.

Was Karen standing in front of the door the entire time? Did she hear you? Or rather…did she hear Everything?!?!

You mind was racing with questions. On the other hand isshin was still looking at the door. You can see his glistening mouth from your arousal. “Yes, Karen? Is something wrong?” He asked, still remaining kneeled on the floor. As if nothing happened. On the other hand, you’re going through the a mix of emotions right now. Especially, in your current position.

“Yuzuru wants oyakudon. Can you help us make it?” She asked. Isshin looked puzzled. You tried to hide your laugh because he was a little taken back. He was eating you out. “We’re sleeping. I’ll make it tomorrow night. Go eat cereal.” He said, licking his lips. “Pleeeeeaaasssse?” That pleading voice came from Yuzu. He sighed and turned to you. You tucked your lips in and shrugged. You really don’t know what to say. “Fine. I’ll tell you the recipe. Grab a pen and paper.” He said, leaning his head on your thigh.

Your tilted your head and raised an eyebrow. “Really?” You asked, looking at him in disbelief. isshin smirked. “Anything for my girls.” You rolled your eyes “that’s not what you said earlier?” You reminded him, poking his forehead head with a finger. He chuckled and kissed your inner thigh. The two girls came back and were ready to take notes.

“Okay. Step 1….” Isshin started giving out a couple of instructions and you just sat there, trying not to shake your head and laugh. He occasionally stroked your thighs to not forget where you both left off. Which helped because you were so close to wail and squirt in his face. The cool down was worth it. But you were still in utter disbelief, comically.

“Good. Now, let me know how it goes.” He turned his attention to you and chuckled. “What?” He asked, smiling at you. “You know what.” You giggled. “You’re unbelievable.” He chuckled at your response. “Now, where were we?” He said, stroking your right leg on his shoulder.

~~~

The pans being used downstairs in the kitchen were ringing in your ears as well as wet squelching noises that filled bedroom. “Oh baby.” You breathed, pushing the back of his head to your heat when his tongue gets deep into your folds. You hissed, pushing your hips right into his hot mouth to get his tongue to dip into your cunt.

“Ugh. right there isshin don’t sto-.” You said thickly, riding his tongue a bit quickly.

“Daaad!” Yuzu called out, her footsteps running to the door.

Isshin almost sucked his teeth. You didn’t even hear her come upstairs. You’re deaf, you thought to yourself. You were going to stop the session and go help them but isshin gripped your thighs to keep you from moving away. He looked at you. It’s your turn now. His eyes told you. You sighed before you said, “Y-yes, Yuzu?” you answered, trying to not sound breathless when isshin continued to eat you out. “Where’s the soy sauce, y/n?”

There was long pause. You watched your husband tongue you just right that you lost your train of thought. At least it didn’t seem odd. You needed time to think about where the sauce is located, anyway. “It’s… on the shelf…next to the fridge.” You successfully answered. “Okay!” She ran downstairs, and told Karen to grab a stool.

Not being able to form coherent words, you nodded at how good he’s swirling his tongue on your clit. Your legs were trembling from the intense pleasure that’s overtaking your bod. You watched him as he slowly bobbed his head in between your thighs while his mouth was wrapped around your clit. The sucking sounds made you throb. “Like that, ish.” You whispered, your nails lightly scratching the back of his head to keep going.

Moments later, you heard giggles downstairs in the living room. Hopefully it meant that the food is cooking and that they’ll leave you two alone for a while. Your thought process was interrupted when isshin flicked your clit feverishly. You raised your hips from the bed and bucked into his mouth. His hot tongue on your clit sparked a fire in deep in your stomach. “Oh my god…oh my -“ you cried, the heel of your foot digging in the back of his shoulder when you bucked into his mouth. The mattress springs creaked from the way you rode his tongue.

You heard the twins ran upstairs to their bedroom. You can hear them talking about the next soccer match. Of course they had to leave their bedroom door open!

Isshin purposely slurped your cunt loudly that you grabbed the back of his head to shut. him. up. He chuckled, lifting his mouth from your pussy. “You know ~I always love how mindful you are.” He joked, licking his lips. “Isshin! Stop being childish!” You whispered loudly, looking flustered above him. “But this is our free time, no?” He continued, his fingers digging into your thighs, lovingly.

You rolled your eyes. “Be nice.” You warned, trying to sound like the only adult in the room. “Yes, my lovely wife.” He said, raising himself and spreading your legs further. Your back met the cool sheets. “Let me finish my dessert.” He reminded you, chuckling while he got a better view of the mess he made all over your pussy. “Just hold on a bit longer for me, honey.” He said, leaning his head down to your pussy. “Unh..! You cried, gripping the bed sheets. He wrapped his lips around it, sucking it slowly. Isshin moaned while latching onto your clit and licked it side to side in the same pace. “Oh Yeah..” you whispered, your hand combing through his dark hair. Isshin stroked your thighs in circles with his fingertips, slowly. making you shiver.

~~~

The girls are downstairs eating. You can hear the chopsticks hitting the ceramic bowls Meanwhile, your head is raised up, watching him circle your clit, endlessly. Your mouth is wide open, unable to form any words. You cried. You’re close to release. “Isshin.” you whimpered, squirming under his strong grip. You just want him to finish this sooner. You might get louder if he doesn’t. “Ah! Isshin!” You called out again, he’s not listening to you; he’s flicking your pussy, lovingly.

Your back arched of the bed and your legs began to tremble. You let out another cry but he kept going. You’re trying to keep your voice down; your hand pushed his head down and you started bucking your hips against his mouth. Your moans sounded like your were stuttering. Isshin moved his hands up to your knees from underneath and pushed it deeper in the bed. “Ahh…!” You cried, shutting your eyes - you pushed your head back in the bed as your feet dangled in the air.

You rode his face all the way to your release until you squirted on him. “Good girl.” He chuckled, watching you squirm below him. Your toes got a cramp from the uncontrollable clenching. “Oh god.” You said, your chest heaving. Isshin leaned over and kissed your lips. His thick tongue swirled around yours to taste yourself. “Had fun?” He asked, massaging your thighs. “Oh shut up.” You let out a breathless laugh as your fingers combed through his hair.

Isshin continued to leave kisses on your neck while you turned your head to check the time, while stroking his hair. “It’s 11:04pm.” You said, turning to look at the man above you. “Don’t worry about that.” He said, leaving on across your chest. “What do you mean?” You raised an eyebrow, staring at the ceiling. You heard the daughters laughing at something on TV. “you promised them 1 hour.” You reminded him.

Isshin stopped and looked at you. “They’re still downstairs. Let them be. Remember?” He said. You blinked at him for a moment. “Besides, we’re not done yet.” He added, wrapping your leg around his hip and stokes it.

“Eh?” You eyes widened.

Isshin chuckled.

Extra:

Yours and Isshin clothes were scattered around the room. Heavy breathes and skin slapping echoed in the room. Isshin pistoned into you roughly but slowly in the bed. You're trying to be quiet but his cock kept stroked your plush walls; rubbing your g-spot that you moaned a bit loudly every now and then. His arms were folded above your head for good measure while his hips pushed you deep in the bed.

Your sweat covered back is on the plush sheets of the bed as it quietly creaked in rhythm. Your knees are by your chest as isshin rolled his hips, lovingly. He looked at you with all the love in the world while you held onto his shoulders. All coherent thought leave you as you stare at his glistened face, your eyes are hazy as you try to make out his face.

"Fuck." He moaned, spreading his legs a bit more as bucked roughly into you. You both moaned into each other's mouths. "Yeah baby, pull me in." He groaned, breathing into your mouth."Yeah like that baby." He praised, he felt you your walls hug his cock. Your deep breathes fills his ears. "You like that, huh." He mumbled, his pelvis rubbing your clit. You’re still unable to speak as you rolled your hips up to meet his deep thrusts. Isshin kissed your forehead and circled his hips to feel more of you warmth. “Mm." You moaned, moving your hands down to his lower back to push him deeper.

“There. Right there, issh.” you praised, your legs dangling in the air when he changed his pace. “Ahh.” You moaned, closing your eyes. Isshin chuckled and hid his face in your neck, focusing on how good your pussy is hugging his length. You forgot about Karen and Yuzuru. Are they still awake? Your mind is trying to figure it out but his deep thrusts is making you feel so drunk. Still trying to be mindful of the kids, You’re tried to not breathe too loud when he hit that spot again. And again. “Unh. Issh-” you cried softly.

The sounds of skins slapping each other and the bed creaking bounced off the walls. You felt his deep exhales on your neck. Isshin raised himself to look at you. His wife. You can’t see him watching you. You’re in full bliss. Your body rocked to his pace. Your breasts responding to his thrusts made him studder in his thrusts. You look so beautiful below him and you’re in pure bliss. He stopped his strokes and stayed still - feeling your plush walls squeeze his length, lovingly. “Mmmm.” He moaned, he stayed still for a moment. You whined. “Issh…keep going.” You begged, rolling your hips up. He chuckled, leaning down to kiss your lips. “I know, I know.”

His tongue danced with yours while he thrusted deeply into your core again. The wet strings of your arousal sticked to his pelvis each time he thrusted into your soaked cunt is. “You hear that, honey?” He broke the kiss, listening to the wet sounds of your arousal welcoming him each time he thrusted into your core. “So wet for me.” He praised, rewarding you by rolling his hips to hear some more. The pit of your stomach heats up and coils - your walls started throbbing. “Oh god.. yeah.” You moaned, grabbing his ass and your feet dug on his knees from underneath.

“Good girl.” He praised, raising himself up again and gripping your waist. He began bucking into your cunt, feverishly. The squelching sounds gets louder and mixed with both of your moans. While being mindful of the kids. Your head pushed back into the pillow along with your hands on either side. “Good. Take me in .” He said thickly, his hips meeting yours, quickly. Isshin rubbed your clit to help you until you and him reached each other’s release.

~~~

It’s past 1am.

Isshin woke up and put on his pajama pants. He was going to use the bathroom and then get a glass of water. But before doing that, he opened the twins bedroom door and didn’t find them there. “Hm?” He went downstairs to look for his daughters and He found them both sound asleep on the couch. He chuckled as he took the two bowls from the coffee table and put them in the sink, and then turned off the TV.

“Let them be.”

End.

#i finally finished it #bleach #bleach imagines #bleach x you #bleach tybw #bleach x reader #bleach x y/n #isshin kurosaki #isshin shiba #bleach isshin #manga #anime #bleach headcanons #isshin kurosaki x reader #bleach smut #bleach fandom

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clexaweekofficial · 1 year

Photo

Here are the themes that won for the upcoming Clexaweek23! If you would like to participate, just create something (write a fic, draw some art, make a moodboard, a video edit, you name it!) that somehow involves that particular theme. Whether you create or not, please participate by supporting each other! :) Reblog posts instead of just liking, and leave nice comments on content!

Day 1: Monday, February 27th - Childhood Friends

Clarke and Lexa were friends as children! Example: maybe Clarke and Lexa have been glued at the hip since they were five years old. They went to school together, then college, and now they have an apartment together. They don’t really understand why everyone assumes they’re dating; or why they seem to get so jealous when the other person IS dating. Maybe Clexa were best friends in elementary school, until Lexa moved away. Now they’re in their thirties, Clarke is a divorced single mother, and she’s shocked when she realized that her kid’s teacher is none other than her childhood best friend. Maybe Lexa had a very difficult childhood and Clarke was the first friend she ever made, until Lexa was forced to move away; years later, they meet again in a support group, both having lost their partners. Maybe they were best friends until a falling out in middle school; awkward moment when they realize they’re roommates!

Day 2: Tuesday, February 28th - Secret Relationship

Lexa and Clarke in a secret relationship with each other. Examples: Are Clexa rivals in public but besotted behind closed doors? Is Clarke secretly dating her best friend’s sister which is totally off-limits? Is Lexa hiding the fact that she’s been dating her ex’s ex? Is Clarke secretly dating her best friend’s worst enemy?

Day 3: Wednesday, March 1st - Fake Dating

The opposite of day 2! Clarke and Lexa are pretending to date. Examples: Maybe Lexa desperately needs a date to bring home for the holidays to get her mom off her back, so who better to ask than the cute girl she keeps running into at her favorite coffee shop? Maybe Clarke needs some temporary arm-candy to make an ex jealous! Maybe Clarke is trying to impress a boss who seems to only want to hang outside of work with a couples’ date, so she convinces Lexa to pretend to be her girlfriend and come out to dinner with her unbearable boss because she REALLY needs that promotion!

Day 4: Thursday, March 2nd - Accidents Happen!

I put together Accidental Kiss and Accidental marriage/relationship since they’re so close together. Bottom line is Clexa accidentally do SOMETHING. Maybe they’re rivals on the same sports team and are so swept up in the euphoria of their win that they kiss right there on the field! Or maybe they’re strangers who wake up in Vegas and are horrified to realize they’re married. Maybe Lexa’s wife left her at the alter because she claims Lexa will never love her as much as she loves someone else. A devastated Lexa has no idea what she means, but she already paid for the honeymoon so why not take her best friend Clarke with her? Except oops, in the morning they wake up hungover and naked and the ring Lexa had bought Costia is on Clarke’s finger. Maybe Clexa are just fuck buddies, friends with benefits - except one day they realize oops, it’s been ten months and I have my own drawer space at your place and my own toothbrush and shit are we dating, are we living together??

Day 5: Friday, March 3rd - Friends or foes?

Both Enemies to Lovers and Friends to Lovers tied, so what does that mean? We do both! You can choose to use one of these, or do both! Examples: Maybe Lexa HATES her neighbor Clarke, who always seems to wake her up in the middle of the night because she apparently can’t paint without listening to music. Maybe Clarke is Lexa’s best friend Clarke HATES her neighbor that always seems to throw rowdy parties, and she lets her know that (and later, makes the horrifying discovery that this woman, Lexa, is not even the actual neighbor; it’s Lexa’s sister, Anya). Maybe Clarke and Lexa are work friends until Lexa’s given a promotion that Clarke deserved, and now she hates her. Maybe they’re allies in a war until Lexa takes a deal and leaves Clarke to dry. Maybe Lexa hates Clarke, who broke her best friend’s heart - except then she realize Clarke is actually super nice and they’re friends now and maaaaybe Lexa looks at her lips too much.

Day 6: Saturday, March 4th - Workplace Romance

Clexa at work! Examples: Are they rival farmers? Are they firefighters who can’t keep their cool around each other? Do they both contribute at the local farmer’s market and their stalls are right next to each other but they’re both too useless to actually make a move? Does Clarke get hired to paint a mural in Lexa’s cafe? Is Clarke an ER doctor and Lexa the cute EMT that picks terrible times to flirt with her? Are they coworkers at some company kept vague bc all we’re focusing on is the opportunities that await us once all the items have been swept off the desk?

Day 7: Sunday, March 5th - Free Day

For free day, you can do anything you want. You can choose a theme that didn’t win. You can even use it as an Update Your WIP day!

—

Here are the guidelines for participating.

I posted this on November 11th; we have exactly 3 months and 17 days until Clexaweek23! :)

So excited to see all the new creations! Leida!

#Clexa #Clexaweek23 #Clarke x Lexa #Clexa fic #Clexa art #Clexa edit #Clarke/Lexa #Clarke Griffin #Lexa #Commander Lexa

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apprenticestanheight · 5 months

Note

Can I get number 10 "Will you marry me?" For Mark Hoffman? And maybe for Adam

Onions- Mark Hoffman x gn! reader

Hi!! I went ahead and did this one for Mark as I feel I don't write for him nearly enough, but if you'd like me to do this prompt with Adam, just feel free to let me know (be that through a response to this fic or an ask in my inbox! I don't know when it'll be done as I still have a lot of writing to get through before I consider myself on top of the reqs I currently have to do, but at the very least I can promise it'll be done either before christmas, on christmas, or the day after!)

Thank you for sending this one in and here's the obligatory but still wholly genuine apology--I am so sorry that this has taken me so long! A lot of the time things get buried in my inbox and that fact in combination with a bad record with object permanence usually go together in a rather inefficient way. Life has also just kind of done it's thing and demotivation has kind of kicked me in the back a little bit. While it sucks that I can't say that super long wait times for requests are out of the norm, I hope this one was worth the wait!!

Fic type- this is super fluffy!

Warnings- kissing happens a lot and sex is passively mentioned once. This fic is also edited but I've been awake for eleven hours and had written it while awake for something like fourteen so the editing might be a bit off regardless--I apologize if it is and if it is, please feel free to let me know and I'll fix it right up!!

In the week or so leading up to the proposal, Mark was doing everything he could to make it seem like nothing special was happening on the getaway he'd planned for the two of you that weekend.

You both worked in the precinct but in different areas--Mark was a detective and you worked with the CSI team--so keeping the news from spreading really wasn't all that difficult.

Perez and Strahm had been the only ones who knew a lick of Marks plan, and while Strahm had asked him teasing questions about the ring and the plan for the proposal with a shit-eating grin on his face, Perez seemed genuinely happy for him. She asked about the location and if he'd written some big, sappy speech, reminded him to make sure that all of the camera angles would be perfect and not unflattering, jokingly asked if she was invited and told him to ease up on the coffee during the week before the getaway as too much of it could cause jitters.

So then the weekend came and you and Mark drove to a cottage that had previously been owned by Marks parents in the outskirts of the city. They'd given it to him but he'd never had much cause to use it before that weekend, and he was glad to see that it was just as nice as it had been when he'd last seen it.

You settled in, objecting to spend that Friday night in nothing more than a pair of boxers and one of Marks old NJPD sweaters, hugging him from behind as he made dinner and you talked about anything except for work because of how exhaustive talking and thinking about work had become after how long that week had felt.

Mark was trying to search for the time to do it--the ring was in the pocket of his sweatpants, and you'd discussed proposals before anyway so he knew there was no big expectation to do it somewhere good or while wearing anything exceptional. Your plan for that weekend was mostly just to eat good food and have good sex and Mark had honestly planned to do the proposal somewhere after you'd accomplished both of those goals.

But, on a Friday night somewhere in December of the year 2004, your lips are pressing against the back of Marks shoulder and he can feel them spread out in a grin as your hands move to his hips, and you've been together for a decade and Mark is wondering why he didn't propose sooner.

"I love you," you whisper against the skin of his neck, laughing a little as you watch Mark brace himself by pressing his palms into the granite countertops.

"Will you marry me?"

Mark kind of hates the way it comes out--he wanted to at least have it somewhat planned before he popped the big question, not say it over a pan of onions that were in the process of caramelizing while the sky displays the dark of a Decembers four o'clock. He wanted to look at you while he asked, get down on one knee and at least try to do the old fashioned stuff.

"What?" You ask, laughing a bit more. "Mark Hoffman, are you playing some kind of cruel joke on me? I like it when you get funny but not like this."

"No," Mark rushes the words out. "No! I'm being serious--I swear I meant for it to be less spontaneous than this but your fucking lips--I wanna get married to you. I have a ring and everything, but you kissed me and you know how I'll get when you kiss me the right way. I promise I meant to propose in a more serious way, all right? Not while you're in one of my NJPD sweaters from when we first started dating and a pair of boxers I bought you for christmas so that you'd stop stealing mine to wear as shorts."

You let him go, step away.

"Well, if you're so serious about doing it properly, I invite you to go ahead," you're grinning, and Mark wants to kiss it off your face more than anything, but he doesn't. Instead, the cook in him turns to the pan as you take his hand in yours and interlace your fingers.

"The onions might burn--"

"They'll be fine without your eyes for a sec," your grin widens. "Mark--I appreciate that you proposed the way you did but if you're gonna make a stink about not being able to propose all proper and gentlemanly, then I invite you to do so. I promise I won't change my answer."

Mark snorts, gets down on one knee and pulls out the ring.

"Perez told me that a big, soppy speech would make you more likely to say yes but I never believed that," he takes a breath in. "I just want to emphasize that, well--we've been together for ten years now and I've wanted to marry you for at least four but work has been so busy that I haven't really gotten the chance to do it. I love you, Y/N, and that is why I'm doing this and why I was so hellbent upon doing it right."

"Yes," you blurt, grinning like an idiot.

Mark scoffs, laugh falling from his lips. "You made a stink about me making a stink about proposing wrong, and you've answered before I even asked!"

You laugh, covering your smile with your hand. Mark feels the urge to pull your hand away but doesn't, instead lets himself smile so hard that it hurts.

"Will you marry me?" He asks. "Will you make me the happiest guy in the history of the--well--ever, and marry me, Y/N L/N?"

"Mhm," you hum, nodding quickly. "Yeah, Mark Hoffman. Absolutely."

Mark rises, slips the ring onto your finger and hums as he pulls you into a tender kiss, palms resting on your elbows as he presses you lightly against the fridge.

You pull away, and both of you are grinning like idiots but that doesn't really matter.

What matters to you is the fact that Mark has just proposed, and you've accepted, which means that you're engaged. That fact alone is enough to make you elated, and such is what you feel as you go back to your previous position, Mark watching the onions and occasionally stirring while you hug him from behind, hands on his hips as your lips rest against the back of his shoulder.

Mark is grinning at the onions, just as elated as you. It is the perfect ending to a perfect night.

#mark hoffman #mark hoffman x reader #saw franchise #sawposting

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cadybear420 · 27 days

Note

Performance for fluffember🤍

The Voice of an Angel

Fandom: High School Story (Original Trilogy)

Pairings: Aiden Zhou x Evie Ayana (female HSS MC), maybe with a small side of Ajay Bhandari x Cher Lee (female HSS:CA MC)

Characters: Aiden Zhou, Evie Ayana (female HSS MC)

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Additional Tags: Fluff, Singing, Performance, Dancing

Word Count: 2,128

Summary: On Evie’s 18th birthday, Aiden and the jazz band whip up a little surprise for her. Takes place approximately between HSS:CA 2 and HSS:CA 3 (though my memory of the HSS:CA timeline is a little more fuzzy).

A/N: First of all: to the anon who sent the prompt, major apologies for sleeping on it for so long. Coming up with writing ideas is a bitch, but it is something I want to do more often. And there was also that one time when Tumblr turned off editing for answers to asks, which carried over to the draft post for this for a while. Second of all, I’m fucking obsessed with this song from Doctor Who (“My Angel Put the Devil in Me”, from the Series 3 soundtrack) and I think Evie and Aiden would be as well. Third of all, yes this is a belated birthday fic for Evie, but I’m glad to get it out before the end of Evie’s birthday month at least. Also haha both Evie’s birthday this year and in the setting of the fic were on a Friday. Fourth of all, arghrghrargh my first time writing a fic where one character sings to another AND does a choreographed dance to it too. It’s a lot more difficult than I imagined lol.

(Also, the outfit I imagine for the other jazz band kids)

Prompt: Performance

Source for prompts here. Even though it's long past November, I'll still accept prompt suggestions from this list year-round.

Tags: @inlocusmads @aces-and-angels @aria-ashryver @lover-also-fighter-also @jerzwriter @choicesmc @3rdstreetfrank @dutifullynuttywitch @lovealexhunt @lilyoffandoms @peonierose (as this is the complete version of this WIP and this challenge bit), and @choicesficwriterscreations

Friday, March 8, 2019. The day of Evie’s 18th birthday. She’d been planning to host a birthday party at one of her favorite restaurants in the city, starting in the early evening after school. Almost everyone she knew from school was invited.

It was late in the afternoon now. Evie took one last look at herself in her new outfit– a navy blue suit with a purple floral necktie– and grinned, before dashing to the living room. There, her dad was checking his phone.

“Alright, I’m ready to go!” she said.

He turned to her. “Actually… we can’t leave just yet…”

She pouted. “What??? But Daaaad, the party starts at 5 PM and it’s already 4:45!”

“The people doing the decorations are… taking a bit longer than expected.”

“Oh…”

“It’s a bit awkward to go to a party when they’re still putting decorations up, isn’t it?”

“That’s true,” her face softened. “Do the other guests know?”

“...yep! I’ve just told them, in fact.”

“Okay… but how long do we have to wait?”

“Shouldn’t be more than… ten to twenty minutes?”

Evie pouted again.

“It’s not that long…”

“Okay, fiiiiine, I’ll be patient…”

“And I’ll be doctor!”

Evie winced. “Dad, NO…”

…

About twenty minutes passed, and then finally, her dad said it was okay to start driving to the restaurant. After a fifteen minute drive, they arrived, and Evie wasted no time going in.

The room was alive with upbeat music, purple decorative lights and flowers, and many of Evie’s friends. It seemed like just about everyone she’d invited had shown up– her main friend group, her teammates, her friends from the other cliques and Hearst, Cher and her friends from theatre, the seniors from last year who hadn’t gone away for college…

And all of them greeted her with a big “Happy birthday, Evie!!!”, in unison.

Evie inhaled, beaming at her friends. Many of them ran over to hug her, a few others cheered for her.

Then she saw Emma and Cher push their way through the crowd and grab her by her arms.

“Evie! There’s a special surprise for you, right now!” said Cher.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!” said Emma. “Just come with us…”

The crowd parted, making way for Emma and Cher to pull Evie to the opposite side of the room. As they did, the party music slowly faded out and the lights began to dim.

“What the–” Evie started.

“Shhhh. You’ll see soon enough!” Emma replied.

When they made it to the opposite end of the room, a warm spotlight turned on over her, and there she saw it. The jazz band, all set up with their instruments and dressed in matching snazzy black-and-red suits and… devil horns? Yes, devil horns.

And at the front of it all… was none other than her beautiful boyfriend Aiden, all dressed up and holding a microphone.

Evie just about stopped in her tracks as she took in his outfit– a snug, ivory-colored flapper dress that had silver beads sewn into intricate patterns, and hung just barely above his knees. Along with that, he also wore a couple of matching long pearl necklaces, a fluffy white halo accessory over his head, and winged eyeliner.

“Wow…” Evie felt her breath catch. “Aiden, you look–”

Just then, Aiden signaled to the band… and they started to play.

Evie grinned broadly, her eyes immediately lighting up at the familiar upbeat jazzy tune, and watched intently as her boyfriend danced towards her, in steps that were careful and rhythmic, yet lively.

Then the tempo slowed, and he held the microphone to his mouth and began to sing.

“I'm a country girl, I ain't seen a lot… But you came along, and my heart went pop! You took a little streetcar to my heart… And an apple of love fell off my apple cart~”

Evie’s cheeks flustered at his melodious voice. This wasn’t the first time she’d heard him sing– he’s sung to her plenty of times, and they’d practically been doing Evie-Aiden duets since the day they met. But this… this was different. Aiden had never done a solo singing performance for her before, let alone one that involved a bit of dance as well.

“You looked at me, my heart began to pound… You weren't the sort of guy I thought would stick around… Hey, but it don't have to be eternally… My bad, bad Angel put the Devil in me~”

And his singing voice was all the more different this time around too. Even later into their relationship, as Aiden had become more confident about his singing, there was always still a hint of nervousness in his voice when they sang their duets. But this time, he sang loud and clear. Like he was owning the stage.

Aiden performed a small twirl before stopping, his eyes meeting hers as he began slowly walking up to her, making her heart jump a little.

“You lured me in with your cold grey eyes… Your simple smile, your bewitching lies…”

As he sang that verse, he reached out and grabbed onto her bright purple tie, making Evie’s face heat up as he began tugging on it gently and pulling her closer to him.

“One and one and one is three… My bad, bad Angel… the Devil in me~!”

The tempo picked up again. Aiden let go of her tie and took her hand in his as he broke out into energetic dance movements while still singing the lyrics to the song, the skirt of his dress swishing about as he swayed gracefully to the instrumental music.

Evie squeezed his hand and matched his movements, her pulse racing now. All the while, the crowd watched with excitement. When they came face-to-face again, she was giving him an almost drunken smile.

Soon enough, Aiden broke from her hold and turned around, sashaying slightly as he started stepping away from her… before looking over his shoulder, catching her gaze once again.

“My bad, bad Angel~ you put the Devil in me~”

Aiden shook his butt side-to-side to the beat, giving Evie a knowing look that made her cheeks brighten. The music slowed, and he turned around to face her again.

“So, now my dear, I ain't the girl you knew… 'Cause the Angel's got Heaven, but I get you…”

He sauntered back up to her.

“And the tree of life grows tall, you see… My bad, bad Angel… you put the Devil in me~!”

The beat slowed to a more gentle, relaxed tune as Aiden placed his arm over Evie’s shoulder.

“Oh… You put the Devil in me~”

Aiden gestured towards Evie’s arm, and she placed her arms around him, taking hold of his waist as they began to rock together.

“You put the Devil in me…”

Gently and smoothly, Aiden broke out of her hold and took her hand again. Lifting her hand, he twirled himself under her arm, then placed himself backwards against her body– all without missing a beat.

As Aiden continued to sing, Evie wrapped both of her arms around his middle, embracing him from behind. Aiden pressed back against her and placed his free arm over hers, almost as if to hold her arms in place, as they began to sway side-to-side together again. Evie practically melted into him, his body warm against hers.

“You put the Devil in me…”

Then, the song picked up again.

“You put the Devil in… me~!”

He swiftly yet carefully broke from her hold again, and danced in a circle around her as he sang the last few verses of the song. She turned to follow him, their eyes locked onto each other yet again, as he gave her an almost sultry gaze.

“My bad, bad Angel, you put the Devil in me!”

At the final note, the lights slowly faded back on. Aiden stood in front of the now cheering crowd and took a huge bow, grinning proudly.

Once he straightened back up, Evie finally let out a high pitched “EEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”, bouncing up and down before leaping onto Aiden, sweeping him up into her arms, and spinning him around. Aiden gasped, dropping his microphone with a loud *thunk*– but then quickly held her face in his hand and pulled her in for a passionate kiss, prompting the crowd to cheer louder.

After a moment, Aiden broke the kiss. “Happy eighteenth birthday, Darling~”

Evie squeezed him tighter. “Aiden, that was…” She took a deep breath, a starstruck look in her eyes. “Your singing is amazing… I mean, I’ve heard you sing before, obviously, but…”

A slight but visible rosy tint grew on his cheeks.

“But I’ve never done a singing performance for you, I know. I figured it was about time I did.”

“And you were fucking amazing. I’ve never heard you sing like that before… like, you were already good, but I didn’t know you were this good…”

“I mean… practice makes perfect, after all…”

“That’s true…”

He planted a small kiss onto her lips, making her whole body warm up.

“And what made you choose that song from Doctor Who for your first performance? I mean, obviously I love the song–”

“That’s just it. I know how much you love the song, and the episodes it came from.” He chuckled softly. “And, I mean… I don’t blame you. It is a fantastic song.”

Evie’s smile grew wider. “God, Aiden… I fucking love you.”

“I love you too, Evie.”

They pulled each other in for one more kiss, holding each other tightly, before she set him down.

“And I love your outfit too… you look absolutely gorgeous, as always~”

Even as Aiden beamed at her so brightly, his cheeks turned as red as the other band members’ devil costumes, prompting Evie to giggle.

“Well… I have been having a lot of fun trying on new outfits…” he said, softly.

At that moment, Ajay and Cher popped up beside them.

“Hey… if Aiden likes singing, dancing, and dressing up in fancy outfits now… you think we could convince him to join the upcoming spring musical?” Ajay said. “His talent would just be unmatched…”

Evie and Aiden turned towards them.

“The next play’s gonna be a musical?” Evie said. “I’ve been wanting to act in a play, but, uh… I don’t think I’m ready for one that involves singing…”

Aiden raised an eyebrow at her. “But we’ve literally been doing duets ever since–”

“That’s different. I can sing alright when it’s more casual, but in a professional musical performance? I’m not that good.”

“You should still consider it!” Cher chirped. “If not an acting role, you can always still be an assistant director or a techie…”

“That sounds much more my speed.”

Cher turned to Aiden. “You should definitely consider trying out for a singing role, though!”

Aiden put his hand on his chin thoughtfully. “It could be fun… I know Evie doesn’t want to sing in a musical, but imagine if we got lead roles together…”

“Oh, perhaps I could be convinced now…” Evie said, before smirking playfully. “But, let’s be real. Put Aiden in the musical, and he’ll probably just upstage all the other singers with how good he is. He’ll make everyone else look like chumps.”

“Hey!” Cher exclaimed, her face scrunching up into a pout. “Are you saying I sing like a chump?”

“What– no, I–” Evie’s face fell.

Cher dropped her pout and grinned again. “Kidding! You probably have a point… I do sing every now and then, but it could use a little more work. Especially since I’m planning to go for an acting role in the musical, of course.”

“Well, if we can’t get Aiden in a singing role for the musical, perhaps he can be a musical director and help coach the actors who are a little more inexperienced?” Ajay suggested.

“Actually… that’s a great idea!” Aiden said, his face lighting up. “I’d love to do that!”

Ajay beamed. “Oh, perfect! We’ll talk to Mr. Olson on Monday.”

“I’ll need some time to think about it… but I’ll let you know if I do decide to accept.”

“Sounds good to me!” Ajay reached his hand out, and he and Aiden shook hands. “Anyways, great job on your performance, Aiden! And happy birthday, Evie!”

“Yeah! Happy birthday, Evie!!!” cheered Cher.

“Aww, thank you both so much!”

Evie gave each of them a warm hug before they walked off. Aiden placed his arms around her and kissed her on the cheek, and she turned back to him.

“Thank you so much, Aiden. For being the best boyfriend ever, and for giving me this awesome birthday.”

“It’s my pleasure~” Aiden hugged her tighter. “But… there’s still more, of course. Ready to enjoy the rest of your birthday party?”

“Oh yes!”

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spotsandsocks · 8 months

Text

Fuck it Friday

Another throw back for Fuck it Friday tagged by the wonderfully lovely @disasterbuckdiaz @wikiangela cover art for this fic from the talented @ronordmann

Tagging the creative and marvellous talents of @monsterrae1 @hippolotamus @honestlydarkprincess @loserdiaz @cowboy-buddie @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy @elvensorceress @thewolvesof1998 @the-likesofus @like-the-rest-of-la @rogerzsteven @bekkachaos @jobairdxx @thekristen999 @stagefoureddiediaz @heartshapedvows @fiona-fififi @giddyupbuck @alyxmastershipper @spaceprincessem @canonicallyobserving911 @wildlife4life @princessfbi @housewifebuck @shortsighted-owl @buddierights @megsvstheworld if there is any art fics or edits to share

Like Lovers Do

Chim shrugs an apology as he makes a quick exit from the table and the situation he just created with a casual comment. Buck consoles himself with the fact that at least he looks a little sorry this time, not like the last time he dropped Buck in it over this particular mistake.

The atmosphere around the table had taken a sharp left turn into awkward when Chimney had jokingly referenced Buck’s brief and unfortunate liaison with the blonde currently laughing with Hen on the other side of the room.

Buck silently curses as Eddie stares him down from the opposite side of the table.

Chim’s long gone, he abandoned the situation the second he realised Eddie hadn’t known about the kiss, so now Buck’s all alone with his best friend; usually he likes being alone with Eddie but this is definitely not his idea of a good time.

Eddie’s looking at him with his lips pursed and eyebrows raised. It’s obvious he has questions about this new piece of information. Buck squirms under the scrutiny. He’d rather be anywhere else right now.

In a cool voice the questioning starts; “You kissed Lucy? You never told me that.”

That’s true he hadn’t told him. Buck had kind of been hoping Eddie would never have to find out because he’s not proud of that particular moment.

It was a mistake, such a huge mistake, one he preferred not to think about. He’d never cheated before, had always hated the concept and he knows he never would again. Buck had spent weeks trying to work out why he’d let it happen, why he’d kissed back, then kissed again. Even now he hates thinking about it although at least now he understands the why a bit more than he had then.

Being back in therapy will do that. Over the last year, longer really things had gotten pretty mixed up and dark in his head. He’d hardly noticed the spiral downwards, it had been so slow and steady, it had just become normal for him to feel that way. He hadn’t noticed but Eddie had.

He’d laugh if it was funny; as Eddie had worked through his issues and found his balance Buck had lost his, but Eddie had seen him, noticed what was happening and been there to steady him when he tripped and stumbled.

When things got really bad, the cumulative effects of so many parts of his life, Eddie had gently suggested Buck start talking to a therapist again. Eddie’s apparently a big fan of therapy these days.

So he had and now he’s spent a fair number of hours talking about all the things that pull at his heart and twist his thoughts and some of those things definitely contributed to the moment that Eddie’s only just found out about.

His best friend knows a lot about him but he doesn't know everything, god no, not everything. The kiss is only one of the things he’s been keeping to himself.

Eddie’s still waiting for details and he doesn’t look very impressed with the delay. Unable to see an escape Buck plunges in with the truth.

“It, it was just a stupid thing I did.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything, Buck knows what he’s doing and falls for it anyway, he fills the gap with more words, desperate to avoid the silence.

“I was just embarrassed to tell you, you know, because of all the stupid. It wasn’t like I was deliberately not, not telling you.”

It totally was.

“it just didn’t come up.”

Eddie frowns “Why’d you do it?”

That’s a big question and the answer is more complicated than he wants to get into with the man opposite him. He goes with half an answer, half the truth, the parts that can safely be shared.

Avoiding Eddie’s eyes he explains the best he can “I was unhappy with Taylor.”

He doesn’t add the rest - because I wasn’t in love with her, I was just clinging to an illusion. Taylor had been another mistake he made. He knows more about that choice as well now.

“and I was drunk”

Eddie pulls a face, eyebrows shooting up even higher.

“Neither one is an excuse” he adds quickly “I know that.”

“When?”

He fudges that with “a while ago,” and a quieter, “when you were at dispatch”.

That’s all he’s going to say because the rest of the answer he needs to keep to himself. Eddie can’t know about all of it. They can’t talk about that.

Weeks of therapy have let Buck see what else played a part in his monumentally stupid decision that evening and he can hardly tell Eddie what he’s worked out.

No - he can’t imagine a universe where he drops that particular bombshell on his friend. As if he could just sit down next to Eddie and casually say, ‘hey, did you know I kissed Lucy once and guess what… I’ve worked out that I did it because I was miserable with Taylor and without you. I did it because you told me to move on and didn’t show up that night, because you left me behind and I didn’t know what to do with that feeling.

And the real kicker; his biggest secret, the root of the problem, the thing that they don’t (can’t?) talk about, the thing that laid the first stone in the path to his poor choices.

Well, how is he supposed to explain that, can he say ‘oh yeah and one more thing; you got shot in front of me and it changed me. I had your blood on my face, on my lips and I can still taste it.

continue on AO3

#buddie #911 fox #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie fic #911 on fox #911fic #911 fic

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happiness-of-the-pursuit · 4 months

Text

2023 Fic Round Up (Part 1: Fic List)

I have been tagged in about a million different round ups of sorts, so here's Part 1: A Comprehensive 2023 Fic List sorted by month posted (if a multichap, I listed it the first month it posted), featuring the major details and a single-sentence summary/quote (so a fun challenge for me).

I'll post Part 2: Favorite Quotes and Part 3: Channeling Nora Holleran to Bring You My AO3 Data over the next two days (for the data I want to wait til the last possible day).

Without further ado, here is my 2023 Fic List:

January:

Nothing, I was still a lurker.

February:

Prince Henry and FSOTUS Alex Claremont-Diaz Answer the Web’s Most Searched Questions (T, 2.4K, YouTube Script Fic)

10 Things Alex Claremont-Diaz Can’t Live Without (T, 3K, YouTube Script Fic)

10 Things HRH Prince Henry Can’t Live Without (T, 2.5K, YouTube Script Fic)

March:

Prince Henry and FSOTUS Alex Claremont-Diaz Take a Couples Quiz (T, 5K, YouTube Script Fic)

The Super Six Take a Lie Detector Test | Vanity Fair (M, 7K, YouTube Script Fic)

Baby's First Pride (E, 10K, WIP Multi-Chap)

Post-canon, canon-compliant (ignoring bonus chapter) look at the Super Six celebrating their first pride after the emails—I want to come back and finish this (I got interrupted by Life) but my writing has evolved a lot since March and I'm daunted by all the editing I'd have to do, lol

ALEX CLAREMONT-DIAZ COMMUNES WITH HIS ANCESTORS WHILE EATING SPICY WINGS | Hot Ones (T, 3K, YouTube Script Fic)

April-June

Trying to survive the end of the school year as a teacher before I left my job :)

July

PRINCE HENRY SENTENCES US TO THE DUNGEONS WHILE EATING SPICY WINGS | Hot Ones (M, 3K, YouTube Script Fic)

August

FirstPrince Sings Queen, Lil Nas X, and Taylor Swift in a Game of Song Association | ELLE (T, 2.5K, YouTube Script Fic)

Claremont 2008 (M, 26K, Complete Multi-Chap, Canon Divergence)

A world where Ellen gets elected in 2008 instead of 2016, and the friends-to-lovers path that puts Henry on. If you want to relive the early 2010s, enjoy epistolary fics, or want a glimpse of a world where Alex & Henry go to college together, you might like this.

September

How well you play...that's up to you (M, 4K, FirstPrince Week)

Grey's Anatomy-Inspired AU, where Alex & Henry are both surgical residents—currently a one-shot, but I plan on writing a multi-chap prequel for this at some point.

Keep this Love in a Photograph (T, 2.6K, FirstPrince Week)

Post-Canon: Henry finds Alex's old photo album and they take a stroll down memory lane.

The Starwand (T, 1.7K, FirstPrince Week)

Three vignettes from Alex's life (two featuring Henry) where a sparkler makes an appearance—both a kid fic of Alex and Alex with his kids.

Somebody Call 911 (M, 2.4K, FirstPrince Week)

College AU where Alex is sneaking around with Henry behind his roommate's back—until it all goes to shit.

October

Sets on the Beach (M, 4K, FirstPrince Week)

Crack Treated Seriously, Alex and Henry are on rival queer beach volleyball teams.

Water over Blood (G, 3K, FirstPrince Week)

Post-Canon 5+1 of five times Henry's niece loved Alex, and one time she loved Henry

L(ate) S(leepy) A(morous) T(exting) (M, 1K, FirstPrince Week)

Text-fic of a missing moment from the book, because I am convinced that Alex did, in fact, study for the LSAT (it's just more realistic if we're to believe he scored well enough to get into NYU)

November

Freaky Friday (I woke up in my enemy's body) (M, 9K, Halloween, Huh?)

Canon Divergence, Freaky Friday-Inspired Body Swap AU, Crack Treated Seriously: Between Cakegate and Alex's visit to London, the boys swap bodies and proceed to learn a lot about each other. And themselves.

December

Alex Claremont-Díaz Answers Your Questions | Actually Me |GQ (M, 2K, YouTube Script Fic)

Super Six and the Siren's Call (T, 111K Total, Posting Bi-weekly)

The Percy Jackson AU, co-written with @read-and-write- and @inexplicablymine. Quests and Greek References abound! Check out more @auntiepezzasupdates

(Dil)Do It Yourself (E, 16.7K, New Traditions Advent Calendar)

Alex attends a DIY Dildo Workshop for the holidays, where he meets Henry, who's helping to lead the workshop—and eventually, helps Alex in other ways. The tags will tell you all that you need to know.

Thanks to @rockyroadkylers @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @kiwiana-writes @welcometololaland and anyone else who tagged me that I missed! I was waiting to post all my fics for December before I did this :) Since I'm pretty late, I'll tag @ssmtskw @matherines @affectionatelyrs and an open tag to anyone who's made it this far and wants to do this!

#rwrb fanfic #red white and royal blue #firstprince #rwrb #fanfiction #rwrb fandom #fic list #year in review #happinessofthepursuit writes

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benasabrina · 19 days

Note

A prompt for you: Phoenix and Maya attend Trucy and Pearl's high school graduation together.

Ooh, fascinating idea, anon! Let's see what I can do with this~

slight edit: Link to the fic on ao3!

-----

The alarm blared right in his ear. It is Friday and there are no cases to investigate for, no trials to be had. So, why did he have an alarm on for six in the morning? Phoenix would have pressed snooze to sleep in longer but that was not going to happen.

As soon as his finger pressed the snooze button, two figures entered his and Maya's room and immediately jumped on top of his side of the bed, and even him.

"Oof!" Phoenix gruffed out and groaned groggily. "G'mornin'," he mumbled and blearily opened an eye to see Trucy and Pearl staring at him.

"Daddy! It's time to get up! It's graduation day!" Trucy grinned as she silently yelled at her father, not wanting to disturb Maya who was still sleeping. "Mama needs to get up soon too..." she mumbled and rested her chin on Phoenix's raised leg. Pearl giggled softly and peered over Phoenix to see Maya on her side, snoring softly. "The pregnancy must be taking a toll on her if she's still sleeping through this," she whispered and glanced over to Phoenix.

Phoenix couldn't help but feel some pang of guilt... despite knowing that they both wanted this. He just didn't expect her to fall pregnant with twins right off the bat. With a sigh, he motioned the girls to move off of him and he sat up. "You both finish getting ready. I'll get ready then get Maya up when I'm done."

The girls nodded then dashed out of the room.

xXx

Maya ended up waking up as soon as Phoenix was in the shower and opted to join him to freshen up (and to wake up as well). She played nice and decided to not rile him up since they're technically on a time crunch for both Trucy and Pearl's high school graduation.

After the shower, they both finished getting dressed, Phoenix decided to wear just a plain light powder blue dress-shirt with this sleeves rolled up and a pair of dark blue jeans. Maya on the other hand wore a white t-shirt with a light purple maternity over-all sun dress. She looked over herself in the mirror and sighed softly.

Phoenix took note of this. "Everything okay, Maya?"

She grumbled and tried to suck in her belly a bit, but to no avail. "I'm fine, just feeling a bit fat right now." Maya rubbed at her large belly and sighed again. "Can't they just come out now? I'm tired of being pregnant."

He couldn't help but chuckle gently. "You say that now, but you know for a fact that once they're out, you're going to miss them being in there."

Maya's eyes narrowed. "Fair point. This is all your fault, you know."

"My dear, it takes two to tango," was all Phoenix said in reply. "Now come on, we can't let those two be late for their graduation."

"Yeah, yeah."

xXx

The graduation is a bit of a strange one this year. While Trucy attended the local high school, Pearl did not. Pearl actually attended the continuation school near the office so she too can get an education. Thankfully, she was homeschooled, but that can only get her so far. Kurain was not exactly suited for "higher" education as some of the elders put it. So with Phoenix's help, Pearl was enrolled and sped through the courses since she was such a fast learner. Both schools decided to merge their graduations so families can see their teens graduate together rather than picking and choosing.

Once they arrived at LA High, the girls went off to find their classes while Phoenix and Maya went to where the families were made to sit. They arrived at a decent time and found open toward the middle aisle where they both knew the girls would walk down to get their diplomas (and also in case Maya had to get up to use the restroom at any point during the ceremony).

Phoenix breathed out gently and tried to keep his emotions in check about the two girls. No use getting worked up since he knew Maya would also be an emotional mess. But... It felt like only yesterday he met Pearl and also took in Trucy. He glanced over to Maya as she adjusted her sunglasses to just above her bangs. Her gaze caught him staring at her.

"What?" she asked innocently.

He shook his head and smiled gently back at her. "Nothing. Just thinking about the girls and how different our life would be without them. Well... at least without Trucy." His glossy eyes almost gave him away.

She noticed his glossy eyes, but didn't say anything about it. "Our life is going to be even more different once these two are out," Maya replied with a grin. "For better or worst, I think we'll be okay, no matter what."

Phoenix took her left hand and marveled at the wedding ring on her ring finger. He placed a soft kiss there. "For better or worst," he replied and waited for the graduation ceremony to begin.

xXx

The ceremony was beautiful and went by rather quick. Both graduating classes were somewhat small. Once it was all said and done, Phoenix and Maya held hand as they got up and went to find their graduated girls and give their congratulations. They did not have to search long because as soon as they rounded a corner, Phoenix was tackled and hugged by Trucy and Pearl.

"Daddy! Mama! We did it! I can't believe it's finally over!"

"Mr. Nick!! Mystic Maya! Thank you for helping me!"

Phoenix and Maya both laughed. Maya joined in on the hug as best as she can, maneuvering her belly so she can hug them tightly. "You girls did this all on your own! We're so proud of you both!" Maya grinned and kissed the top of their heads.

Seeing his little family brought a tear to his eye. Phoenix wiped at his eyes quickly and coughed into his fist. "I think it's time to celebrate! Where do you girls want to go? We can go anywhere you want to!"

Trucy and Pearl looked to each other and grinned. "Korean Barbecue!" they both said in unison.

Maya cheered alongside them and tugged at her husband's shirt. "Let's go, Nick!"

He chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, let's go!"

#ace attorney #phoenix wright #maya fey #trucy wright #pearl fey #narumayo #sabrina replies #this was fun!#i wasn't sure where to end it... but i'm glad i actually wrote after the graduation ceremony

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amevello-blue · 4 months

Note

When do you think the next part of "Ghost in the shell" will come out? Are you still planning on continuing it? Or is it an abandoned project?

It was a great fic! In fact, it was one of first rottmnt fics I've ever read! I hope it's not abandoned, but if it is, I understand. Also, no pressure.

Strict date for Part 2 coming out is January 28th! After that I'll be uploading every other Friday.

I have a lot of Part 2 written, I just need to go through and edit all of it. I've written up to the season 1 finale! Ghost is something I'm going to be working on until it's finished.

I'm glad people are enjoying it! I get comments from people who have just read it for the first time and it brings me life tbh

#asks #gits ask

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cultofsappho · 9 months

Text

To celebrate the RWRB movie coming out (one more week!!!!), I wanted to compile my personal favorite, classic, RWRB fics

🇺🇸 RWRB Fic Rec Friday 🇬🇧

If you've been around the fandom for a while, you'll probably recognise a few of these. Several are well loved on ao3, and there's some hidden gems in here too.

Under the cut, because this got long quick! But I have 108 rwrb bookmarks on ao3, So... this is honestly the most edited-down list I can make!

In no particular order:

all that glitters (is not gold) by indomitablelove Words: 111,753. Post-Canon

Alex Claremont-Diaz has it all. His mom won the election, he’s got the perfect boyfriend. He gets to love Henry out loud. Everything is great. Perfect.

Except for the itch under his skin every time he goes outside, and the tightness in his chest when he goes online, and the fact that he can’t fucking sleep.

But it's fine. He's fine. Really.

— Or: after the emails, Alex Claremont-Diaz isn’t fine.

a goddamn blaze in the dark (and you started it) by orionseye Words: 4,612. Outsider(ish) POV

“You had a thing with who?” Spencer asks, cocking an eyebrow.

“No one. It’s nothing.“

“Oh c’mon. We finally get to the juicy shit and you won’t tell me?“

Liam bites his lip, stifling a laugh. “I had a thing with my best friend. All through high school.”

“I thought you had a girlfriend?”

“I did! I thought I was a proud heterosexual until I came here and figured shit out. We–we just, didn’t talk about it. Somewhere in our minds, the whole “making out for an hour” thing was, like, straight or something.”

a.k.a, liam and spencer’s adventures through the tendency of a famous ex-boyfriend to cause international scandals.

How wonderful life is (while you're in the world) by mlvdybug Words: 34,959. Post-Canon

The corner of Henry’s mouth. It’s disappeared now, covered by the oxygen mask fixed securely around his head, but if Alex concentrates hard enough, he can see it sprawled out in front of him. Every ridge, every bend and edge and turn of it.

He knows Henry’s heart. And that’ll be enough.

(or: the one where henry gets shot and alex is a goddamn mess.)

(baby) don't make me spell it out by extasiswings Words: 2,074. Post-Canon

One night near the end of first semester 1L finals, just a few weeks before the two-year anniversary of their first kiss, Alex finds himself looking up from his desk with its messy piles of color-coded notes and tabbed textbooks to see Henry asleep on the couch, clearly having dozed off waiting for him to come to bed, and unbidden he thinks, God, I’m going to marry this man.

It startles him, the spike of adrenaline that floods through him waking him up and bringing the parts of his brain turning over concepts like proximate cause and strict liability to a standstill as he stares at Henry.

I want to marry this man.

Two Sides of the Same Coin by bibliosoph Words: 86,895. AU

Alex has spent his whole life feeling out of place and paranoid. Growing up in a small village with a massive secret, he had to learn how to keep himself safe from harm and away from other people. Until he meets Henry.

Henry is the Prince of Camelot, though he despises the title and all that comes with it. His brother, the King, is a tyrant and makes Henry feel like he isn't enough. He's all but sworn away true love or anything of the sort. Until he meets Alex.

Brought together by magic and circumstance, the two find themselves constantly in the other's presence. But what will happen when that rocky relationship turns into a friendship? Will it then become something more?

Loosely based on Merlin.

The Royal Wedding by DracoWillHearAboutThis Words: 51,577. Post-Canon

HM Queen Mary is delighted to announce the engagement of Prince Henry to Mr Alexander Claremont-Diaz.

The wedding will take place in the Spring or Summer of 2025, in London. Further details about the wedding date will be announced in due course.

Prince Henry and Mr Claremont-Diaz became engaged earlier this week during a private holiday in Paris. Prince Henry has informed The Queen and other close members of his family. Prince Henry has sought and received the blessings of Mr Claremont-Diaz's parents. The couple will live in Nottingham Cottage at Kensington Palace.

Bear It All by Bri_Cheese Words: 26,383. AU

Bear: verb. Endure or expose.

Eighteen months after an assassination attempt buries a bullet in his spine, Alexander Claremont-Diaz has to attend the Royal Wedding.

A Picture on Your Corkboard by bleedingballroomfloor Words: 23,087. Amnesia/50 First Dates AU

It happens on a random morning in May when Alex, age fourteen, pads into the kitchen to greet his mother and steal a waffle from June's plate and sees a man sitting at their breakfast counter, reading a newspaper, a cup of coffee raised to his lips. Like he belongs. Like it's the most natural thing in the world. June doesn't seem to give the man a second thought. She merely flicks Alex on the forehead and takes back the waffle. Ellen isn't worrying, either. In fact, she's talking to him. Asking what his schedule is like. Making plans for dinner.

Alex has never seen this man before in his life.

say you'll see me again (even if it's just in your wildest dreams) by coffeecatsme Words: 21,331. Trans AU

“You should ask her to dance.” She nudges Alex, and Alex pretends there isn’t a flush rushing up to his face. He opens his mouth to mention every single fucking reason dancing with the blonde is a bad idea—she looks about a foot taller than Alex, objectively uncomfortable for some fucking reason, and Alex is against royalty on, like, principle—but then June nudges him again with widened eyes. “Come on. You know you want to, and I’m sure she’d appreciate it. None of the other fuckers are asking her because of how tall she is.”

For a moment, Alex glares at her. Then, he downs his champagne, shoves it in June’s face and tries to smooth his jacket. “You fucking owe me, June,” he says and ignores the brilliant smile that appears on her face.

“Don’t act so fucking upset about it.”

Or, 5 times Henry is too scared to come out to Alex and 1 time Alex gives him the courage.

Or, 6 times Alex slowly falls in love with Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, for exactly who he is.

Hetkeksi by Neuqe Words: 13,131. Magic AU

Alex is a rich noble who comes up with ridiculous reasons to see their new court healer, Henry

you are my heart, and it's beating too fast by DancingChupacabra Words: 1,117. Post-Canon

The night Alex's secret service detail expires.

Or, as it turns out being outed is very traumatic.

The Beginner's Guide to Floristry by clottedcreamfudge Words: 19,293. Hanahaki AU

As if there's anything romantic about it; as if it's not the most humiliating death Alex can imagine. This is why he doesn't do relationships. This is why he never will. The risk, as far as he fucking sees it, is too great.

Hanahaki Disease is a fictional disease where the victim of unrequited or one-sided love begins to vomit or cough up the petals and flowers of a flowering plant growing in their lungs, which will eventually grow large enough to render breathing impossible.

to repair a hollowed heart by coffeecatsme Words: 28,952. AU

Alexander Claremont-Diaz, the young ruler of the Underworld, the presider of souls that have passed away, has been banned from Olympus his entire life, on account of bringing death and destruction wherever he goes. His seat in the highest council of gods has been left permanently empty until someone sees all that he is and still falls in love with the man behind.

It's been twenty centuries since the curse has been put upon him, and Alex has long since given up on finding the right person.

Or, a Hades and Persephone AU no one asked for

And, a little shamless PWP becasue this fandom has some amazing ones. If i had to pick only one, I couldn't, but i'd pick this series:

Alex Claremont-Diaz is a Sub by demigodbeautiies

A series of PWPs surrounding the fact that Alex Claremont-Diaz is, without a doubt, a sub.

holy god that was long. There were so many others I want to rave about, but I'll try to edit myself for once

I hope some new-er rwrb readers find something to love here! I'm calling a lot of these "classics" becuase they are well loved in the fandom, and rightfully so!!

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #god i love these all so much #i've reread all these several times #i love this fandom so! much!#ao3 #fic rec friday

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blossom-hwa · 2 years

Text

taking care | k.th

I was... inspired. yes. let’s just call it that. definitely not me projecting my idiot brain into a fic. Definitely Not.

Pairing: Taehyun x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, slice of life!au, sick fic, editor!taehyun, writer!reader

Triggers: cursing, mentions of medication (prescribed), panic attacks are mentioned once but no one actually has one

Word Count: 12.6k

When Taehyun goes missing from work, you hunt him down to his apartment where you find him sick. Attempts to take care of him ensue. It doesn’t all go as expected.

Seungcheol (SVT) Ver. | TXT Masterlist

It is two am on a Friday morning when you finally emerge from your little den of sadness and misery to actually attempt to be somewhat of a functional human being.

(The little voice in the back of your head that sounds annoyingly like Beomgyu reminds you that no one is ever able to actually function at two am like a normal human being, and the fact that you are only able to attempt functionality at this hour speaks to something deeply, deeply wrong with your sleep schedule and mental psyche. You swat it away.)

Switching on a light, you blink into the brightness. For a moment it feels like your eyes are burning. Sometime over the past five days, you became a vampire, probably. Minus the bites and fangs and sexy undead creatures.

Wait.

Five days?

You pat your pockets for your phone, which does not seem to be on you. Ah. Yes. You often shove it away when you're in gremlin writer mode so that the bright light won't distract you from your empty word documents. Shuffling back into your study, you flip on the light there too and start throwing things around.

“Beautiful,” you mutter, finally dragging the device out from under a pile of scribbled-on papers. “Please turn on, please turn on—”

It turns on. Bless, so it isn't dead. Squinting at the tiny screen, you check the date and time. Two oh seven in the morning on Friday, November seventeenth.

(The tiny rational voice in your brain that sometimes sounds like Soobin and sometimes sounds like Taehyun reminds you that you could have easily checked your still open laptop for the date and time instead of rooting around for your own. You swat it away, too.)

Hm. So it has been five days. That's... interesting. And mildly concerning. Not because of your fucked up sleep schedule which isn't even a sleep schedule at this point, but because this means Taehyun is off schedule. And by that you mean he didn't show up on the third day of your writer gremlin-induced madness to bring you coffee.

It happens like clockwork. You get sucked in by a deadline, ergo you go MIA. You ignore all texts and messages for two days, ergo Taehyun deduces you have spiraled into deadline induced writer gremlin madness. Coffee is the only thing that sustains you on a day to day basis, ergo Taehyun shows up at your apartment on day three, your favorite coffee in hand and not the bitter unsweetened shit you make yourself at home, and forces you to take a nap while he cooks.

It's a neat little syllogism. Or something. You don't quite remember the names of all the literary devices your writing teachers tried to shove into your head in high school. It all became irrelevant anyway in college when you could have arguments with your professors over the merits of the Oxford comma (it has many merits, but sometimes you just like to be contrary and your professors grew to know this very well). But now the syllogism has been broken because it's been five days since you sank into your little black hole of word documents and black coffee and Taehyun has not shown up once.

Ergo, concerning.

Your fingers have pulled up Taehyun's contact before you realize what you're doing at this time of the night—well, morning. You cannot call Taehyun right now. He's most definitely asleep because he's an actual functioning human being who goes to the gym, eats semi healthy food, and has a sleep schedule. And also happens to be ridiculously good at editing every anxiety-infused chapter you send him of your in progress novel. Therefore you cannot bother him before six in the morning, which is when he actually wakes up. It would be unholy. An even greater transgression upon the gods, assuming they exist.

You close your laptop, making sure to double and then triple save your work because accidents happen and you don't need any of them at two am on Friday when something's already wrong with Taehyun, then shut off the light before shuffling back into the room where you're actually supposed to sleep. The bed looks extremely inviting all of a sudden, what with all the nice little blankets and pillows that you haven't seen in days because you've just been taking cat naps in your office, and it's all you can do to force yourself to brush your teeth first and attempt to wash your face before plugging your phone into its charger and falling onto the bed.

In minutes, you're fast asleep.

. . . . .

When you wake up twelve hours later, at first you don't really remember why there's anxiety buzzing in your chest.

Your eyes feel crusty. So does your mouth. It feels like something died on your tongue. And your entire body feels grimy, probably because you haven't showered in a couple of days, so you ignore the little flutter of anxiety for now, just for now, and head to the bathroom.

One shower and a set of fully brushed teeth later, you stand in front of the bathroom mirror and attempt coherent thought.

Fact 1: You feel somewhat anxious.

Fact 2: It is true that you can sometimes feel anxious for no reason. It's called anxiety and it's the reason you see a therapist.

Fact 3: You're finally on track to meet your deadline in several days thanks to the past five days of gremlin behavior.

Conjecture 1: The deadline is not the source of your anxiety.

Conjecture 2: Something else is the source of your anxiety.

You blink. Wait. How many days has it been since you went into writer gremlin mode?

Five. It has been five days.

Your final thoughts from two in the morning come rushing back. Right. Taehyun didn't come by on the three day mark to bring you coffee, make you food, and force you to nap.

Somehow in the light of day, this realization seems more concerning than ever.

You head back into your room to check your phone, which is now happily and fully charged at your bedside. Several new text messages, but none of them from Taehyun.

Concerning has now become worrying.

You flick through the other texts. One from Beomgyu that's just a weird meme, one from Chaewon reminding you to take a break at some point. Nothing from Taehyun at all.

You call the office.

“Hello?”

“Is Taehyun there?”

A pause. “... Y/N?”

“Yes, it's me, I'm incredibly offended that you don't remember my voice,” you rattle off. “Is Taehyun there?”

Soobin pauses again on the other end. The sound of shuffling papers fills the phone. “Greetings to you too,” he snarks, and you really want to hit him. So much. But he's several miles away in an office building and your only connection is through like... electrical wires. Or waves. Or something. Science wasn't your strongest suit in school. Point is, you can't hit him. “Glad to see you've dragged yourself out of your writer gremlin induced stupor. And no, before you ask again, I don't think he came in today.”

This is more worrying than you thought it would be. Taehyun doesn't miss work. He's always on time, if not early—the one time he came in late and you were on time, you thought the world was going to end.

“Cute, thanks. Have a good—” you check the time— “four more hours of work!” You hang up before you can hear his reply.

So not only has Taehyun not texted you or called you at all in the past few days, but he isn't at work either. These levels of worrying are starting to get dizzying. Which means only one thing:

You need to find him.

Luckily, you've been to Taehyun's place several times for both work and social purposes, like when Yeonjun and Beomgyu convinced him to host a little Christmas party that ended with almost everyone tipsy or drunk and passed out in his living room by morning. You were on your meds so you couldn't drink, so you got saddled with the fun responsibility of bullying everyone into drinking hangover cures when they woke up.

It was actually kind of fun getting to record them doing and saying stupid shit, though. You were able to stock up on at least a year's worth of blackmail material in just one night. Efficient.

Not the point. You know where Taehyun lives. Now you need to go there and ascertain whether or not he's alive. And if he isn't alive, see if his cat is doing okay before you go have a mental breakdown because Taehyun can't die. It's like, impossible. He's pretty much invincible. Anyone who goes to the gym every day like it's his religion can't die.

You throw several things into your beaten up bag, then on second thought shove your laptop into its case to bring it too. Another voice that sounds ridiculously like Yeonjun chirps something like you bring that everywhere.

“It's called separation anxiety,” you say out loud.

No one replies. Which is good, because if someone did, you’d have a whole new problem on your hands.

With that, you grab your laptop charger, shove it in the bag, and head out the front door. You only almost forget to lock it on your way out.

. . . . .

It only hits you that you might be overreacting when you're right outside Taehyun's apartment. When you've literally raised your fist to knock on the door.

Because maybe he's... fine. Maybe he's perfectly fine and he's just tired of coddling you like a child. It would be valid. He shouldn't need to bring you coffee every third day of your gremlin life. He shouldn't need to learn to cook for you just so you can actually eat a fresh vegetable every so often. He shouldn't need to make you take naps like a toddler because you forget to take care of yourself a little too often to be acceptable as a full grown adult.

Maybe you should have called him beforehand and seen if he actually needed you before coming here.

Okay, no. A voice that sounds suspiciously like your therapist cuts through your spiral of negativity. Taehyun is your editor. He is also your friend. Friends check on each other and make sure they're doing okay.

Yes, but friends don't usually do... all of that. Taehyun's cooking has actually improved in the process of attempting to make you eat. That's dedication you aren't sure you deserve.

That's the effort he's putting into your friendship, your mind therapist says. And you put your own effort into the friendship. It's not like he's doing this all alone.

Right. You look at the door. You've shown up to his apartment unannounced because you were worried about him. That has to count for something, right?

Yes! your mind therapist cheers.

No, says the bitch ass part of your brain.

This hurts, says the arm that is still raised in the air, ready to knock on the door but unable to because anxiety.

Whatever. You sigh. You've already made the entire subway ride and walk to his apartment and are standing outside his door. Might as well check on him while you're here.

You knock.

No one answers.

You frown. Maybe he's not home, in which case finding him will be considerably more difficult. Or maybe he just didn't hear you. That would be the better option. Maybe you should knock again.

You knock again.

This time, to your relief, something does sound behind the door. To your concern, however, it sounds like a groan mixed with a crash, which is not something you ever thought you'd hear from Kang Taehyun's apartment. You did not prepare yourself for a possible horror story on this bright Friday afternoon.

“... Taehyun?” you call through the door.

Another sound follows, more like a thump this time. There's also a meow that sounds like Hobak, which is reassuring. “Coming,” you make out very faintly.

Well, it sounds... vaguely like Taehyun. You frown. You could kind of hear the undercurrents of his tone in the garbled mess that you made out as coming. Maybe it's not a horror movie monster in his apartment, then.

Awkwardly, you shift from one foot to the other as you wait for what is presumably Taehyun or some sort of Taehyun-esque form to open the door. Someone is staring at you out of the corner of your eye at the end of the hall and you really don't want to be out here for longer than is necessary.

Finally, you hear something click in the door. You have about one second to prepare yourself for something ghastly and horror movie-like before it swings open.

You blink. So does Taehyun.

“... Y/N?”

Okay, so not a horror movie monster. At least not one that's possessed him. But honestly, if Taehyun had told you such a monster had ransacked his apartment and left him to die, you'd have believed him because this is the worst you've ever seen him.

His eyes are red. So is his nose. He's got this huge fluffy blanket wrapped around him and—is he shivering? You have to look again. The Taehyun you know would never look like this. He always looks so put together, even when he's just come from the gym—which is ungodly because you always look like shit after you've gotten off the treadmill—and even when he's wading through your little writer gremlin cave he never looks out of place, but right now...

“You aren't, like...” You gesture vaguely. “You are Taehyun, right?”

Taehyun blinks. That's how you know he’s really in bad shape—it's taking him a full one, two, three seconds to actually buffer and process the bullshit that's coming out of your mouth when it normally takes him less than one. “Yes, I'm Taehyun,” he mumbles, all congested and muffled, and if you weren't so shocked you might actually laugh because it's kind of cute.

“Oh. Okay.” You blink again. “You're sick.”

Taehyun's face flushes redder, which you thought would’ve been impossible. “I'm not that sick.”

“Taehyun, you are very, very sick.” You push your way into the apartment and shut the door. “As in I've never seen anyone this sick before, even myself. Which is weird because I thought you could never get sick, given that you're actually a healthy human being with a functional eating and sleeping and exercising schedule that you actually keep to on the regular.” You dump your bag on a nearby chair—how is he still so neat even when he's probably a mess on the inside? “Where were you before I came? On the couch?”

He nods feebly.

“Go back to the couch and sleep.” You steer him toward it and push him lightly onto the cushions. He does it without much protest, which is highly worrying considering Taehyun is made of many pounds of pure muscle and you shouldn't be able to maneuver him this easily. “I'm going to make you soup. Or something.”

“You shouldn't be here,” he mumbles, though his eyes are already closing. You might coo if you weren't half worried he'd spring up and kill you for it. “You'll get sick.”

“Lucky for you, I have an immune system of steel.” Which is kind of a lie, but you'll take your chances while Taehyun is too conked out by his own shit immune system to counter you with facts. “And I can make a mean fucking bowl of soup. Do you have masks?”

“By the door,” he mumbles, even softer than before. “Thanks.”

“You're very welcome.” You pat his head. “Now go to bed. There'll be soup and meds for you when you wake up.”

He's knocked out before you finish your sentence. Which is just as well, you think as you locate the masks and pull one over your nose. He shouldn't be exerting himself at the moment, and you need to concentrate on making some soup.

. . . . .

An hour later, you have made one trip to the grocery store and convenience store and returned with a variety of things with which to make soup and some pills that you think Taehyun might need. You're not a doctor—the universe should thank you for that—so you're not sure what exactly he's come down with, but you checked his forehead and it was hot, so fever pills are probably a safe bet. Hopefully. As for the soup, you've made this so many times you could do it in your sleep. Mostly because when your mom made it the first time you were sick, you liked it so much that you kept bugging her to make it again and eventually she taught you to make it on your own so you'd stop bothering her.

Good memories.

It takes a while to locate everything you need in Taehyun's kitchen because he's not an organized mess like you are, he's just organized, therefore because there's no chaos in the kitchen you can't really find anything at first. This is not made better by Hobak attempting to climb up your leg every five minutes, but eventually he goes to his refilled food bowl, which gives you time to get together all the things you need and can start cooking. Taehyun doesn’t make a sound in the background, which worries you several times, but each time you check on him to change the wet cloth you've draped across his forehead, he's just sleeping. Very, very soundly.

According to Google, that's a good thing. Because he needs rest. So you leave him be.

Soon, the soup is done, and you can smell its wonderful aroma even through your mask. Probably because you're standing right in front of it. But the point is, it smells wonderful, and Hobak clearly likes the smell too since he keeps sniffing your fingers, so hopefully Taehyun will also be able to smell it being wonderful if his nose isn't too congested. Maybe then he will also be able to appreciate its taste. Something in an intro psych class you took in college said smell and taste are very much related. You also didn't need an intro psych class to tell you that because you have experienced the connection several times in real life firsthand.

Like when you were sick.

Luckily for you, Taehyun's eyes are beginning to flutter open when you check on him after ladling half the soup into a bowl. He kind of blinks when he sees you like he doesn't really believe you're there, so you wave a hand in front of his face. “Hi.”

“... Hi,” he says. “You're actually here.”

“What, did you think I was just a dream?”

He nods, then winces. “Yeah.”

“Fortunately for you, I'm not a dream. And to prove it, I made soup.” You point to the kitchen. “Can you smell it?”

Taehyun blinks blearily. “Vaguely.”

“Oh, great.” You breathe a sigh of relief. “Your nose isn't completely shot then. Do you think you can eat it?”

“... Maybe?”

“All right, I'll go get it for you.” Bustling back into the kitchen, you return with a hot bowl of soup and a glass of water. “You should take some of these meds before you eat, probably,” you say, indicating the bottles you dumped on the table before.

Obediently, Taehyun swallows the pills you give him and drinks the full glass of water. When you hold up the soup bowl, however, he grimaces.

“What's wrong?” You put it down. “Does it smell bad? I promise even if your sense of smell has been completely corrupted by whatever illness you have, it tastes good.”

“No, no, it smells good.” He coughs. “I just... don't know if I can hold it. The bowl.”

“Ah.” You look at the soup, then at him. That might be something of a problem. Hm.

Oh, simple solution. You pick up the spoon yourself. “I'll feed you, then.”

For some reason, Taehyun seems to balk at this. For the entire world you can't understand why. “Do you want the soup?” you ask. “If you can't eat it, I can just store it away for later.”

“I want it,” he mumbles, looking very put out and very childish in a way you never thought you'd see on the one and only sturdy, steady, reliable, healthy Kang Taehyun. “You just shouldn't have to feed me.”

“Well, I don't see why not.” You wave the spoon in the air. “You're sick. You want soup. You can't hold the bowl without dropping it and I am here. Ergo, I will help you drink the soup. By feeding you.”

Bam. That's a good syllogism. If that's even what a syllogism is. You still haven't checked the definition.

Taehyun finally relents, nodding slightly. “Okay.”

You pat his head. “Good boy,” you smile before dipping the spoon in the soup. Blowing on it softly, you extend your hand. “Open wide.”

“I'm not a child,” he mutters, but he follows your instructions anyway. You feed him the soup. “Good, isn't it?”

“I think so,” he says, swallowing.

You blink. “You think so?”

“I can't fully taste anything,” Taehyun complains. “My nose is stuffed.”

“I can't believe you're missing out on my mom's famous soup,” you say, shaking your head. “You know the first time she made it, I bothered her into making it so many times after that she just taught me how to make it myself at some point so I wouldn't keep asking her.”

Taehyun swallows the second spoonful. He coughs and you hand him a second glass of water. “You kept asking her, didn't you.”

You grin beatifically. “Well, when I'm at home with a mother who's willing to cook, I'm going to try and take advantage of that. Otherwise, I will go into my messy kitchen and cook it for myself.” You poke another spoonful into his face. “Drink.”

Sip by sip, Taehyun empties half the bowl before he decides he's had enough. You carefully push the rest of the soup away so that you won't accidentally spill it before handing him the glass of water. “Drink the rest of that,” you say, “and then you should probably sleep some more.”

He grumbles, but he finishes the glass. You pat his head again. “Go to sleep, now.”

“Don't wanna sleep,” he mumbles. “I slept so much earlier.”

“I'm pretty sure you slept like—” you check the microwave clock, which now reads five in the afternoon. “Two hours since I got here. At most.”

“I slept a lot before you came,” he mutters. “Why did you come, anyway?”

Oh. You blink. That's a question you weren't exactly expecting to have to answer. “Uh. Well. I kind of, uh, emerged from my den yesterday. Well, this morning. At like, two am.”

Taehyun makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a snort. Out of the kindness of your own heart and mercy for his sick little body, you ignore it.

“And I realized five days had passed since I spiraled into my deadline anxiety, and then I realized you hadn't come by on the third day to bully me into halfway taking care of myself, and then I checked my phone and saw that you hadn't texted or called me at all, and then I kind of passed out because I was going to call you but then I saw the time and thought no reasonable person should actually ever call anyone at this time of the morning and especially not you, so I passed out for like twelve hours and then I woke up and called Soobin and he said you weren't in the office. Which is extremely worrying because you always go to work on time. So I kind of panicked and decided to find you and then I showed up at your front door.” You scratch the back of your neck sheepishly. “I realize I probably should have called before coming, but I only came to that conclusion when I was like... right outside.”

Taehyun blinks about five times before he actually says anything in response. “I got like... half of that.”

“Oh.” You shrug. “Sorry.”

“It was enough,” he reassures you, and you feel kind of bad because even sick he's still having to reassure you about dumb things like talking too fast for his sick brain to keep up with, but then he coughs again and you have to go fill up the glass a third time and the thought flies away. “Anyway, if you'd called, I probably wouldn't have answered,” he admits after drinking more water. “I was kind of dead to the world for a while.”

“Why didn't you call anyone?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “I'd have thought of all people, you'd be the reasonable type to actually call someone for help, you know. Like Kai. Or Yeonjun. Or Beomgyu or Soobin. They would've brought you meds.”

“None of them can cook,” Taehyun says.

You pause. “Yeonjun can cook.”

“He has the ability to put things in a pan and not burn them,” Taehyun corrects, and you have to admit that he's right. “That's not exactly cooking.”

“It's cooking. Just not cooking well,” you say, and Taehyun grumbles a little but nods in the end. “And anyway, they could've brought you convenience store soup or something. Doesn't need to be home cooked.”

“Home cooked is best,” he says.

“Taehyun, you could barely taste what I made for you.”

“Still.” He pouts, and this time you actually coo. “What?”

“You're cute when you're pouting.” You pat his cheek, which is still worryingly warm. “Hang on, I'm going to change the cloth on your head.”

You half expect Taehyun to have gone to sleep in the time it takes to wet a new cloth with cold water, but when you come back, his eyes are still open. “You really aren't sleepy, are you,” you say, draping the new cloth over his forehead.

“No, I'm not,” he says, like a petulant child.

“Sleeping will help the sickness pass faster,” you point out. “I don't really know what you were thinking, keeping this from everyone for what—five days? Were you sick this entire time?”

“I wasn't. I started feeling kind of off on... Tuesday, I think.” Taehyun screws his eyes shut, as though trying to remember, which is ridiculously cute but you manage to keep yourself from cooing this time. “On Wednesday I still went in to work but then I was coughing by the end of the day so I didn't go in on Thursday and just slept like the whole day and now it's apparently Friday, I guess.”

“Aw, look at you. You're the one figuring out the days of the week this time, not me.” You giggle at Taehyun's death glare expression as you pat his head again. “Seriously, though, why didn't you call anyone? All of the people I mentioned before would've helped if you'd just said something.”

“Why didn't you mention yourself?”

Okay, another weird question you weren't expecting to get asked. It actually takes a moment to formulate your answer because you don't even know it. It doesn't rely on undebatable facts the way your previous answer did. Just stupid personal opinions.

“Uh, probably because I'm a mess?” you finally say, raising an eyebrow. “Like a certified, grade A mess, Taehyun. I'm like one of those grade A eggs at the supermarket that are expensive, but a mess. Not an egg.”

“Yeah, I figured you weren't an egg.” Taehyun goes into another coughing fit and you pat his hair through it—which he seems to like, at least unconsciously, by the way that he keeps sort of leaning into your hand. “That's what snark will do to you,” you say seriously as he drinks the rest of the glass of water. “It'll throw you into a coughing fit. Better watch your mouth, Taehyun.”

He puts down the glass of water with a withering glare that gives you hope he might fully recover, because that's a normal Taehyun expression. Not the weird, sick one he's been sporting for most of the past few hours. “Be quiet,” he mutters. “Anyway, you're not—that much of a mess.”

You laugh, loud and sharp in the silence. “I'm very much a mess, Taehyun. There's no need to sugarcoat it for me. I've accepted it.”

“Y/N—” he starts, but you cut him off. “I go into like... hibernation, but more messed up because I'm not a bear for like. A week in a row. Sometimes. Because I have spiraling anxiety about deadlines and stuff and like, yeah, I'm going to therapy, but it still happens so you have to bring me coffee and cook for me and make me nap and shower because I can't really take care of myself like a normal human being sometimes, Taehyun. I'm like... a certified mess. By anyone's standards.”

Taehyun stays quiet for a moment. You realize then how much you dumped on him and how you really didn't mean to do that at all.

“That sounded kinda like trauma dumping, right?” You try to laugh. “Sorry. Didn't mean to. Just ignore everything—”

“I don't do any of that because I have to,” Taehyun says quietly. “I do it because I care about you and I worry about you sometimes. Not because I have to.”

You blink once. Twice. How do you respond to that?

“And like, you kind of are a mess,” he continues, “but it's not like the most destructive mess in the world. You realize what's up and you get help for the things you need help with. I think that's pretty commendable.”

Your heart is beating a little faster. This is not what you needed. Or expected. But for some reason you're getting it anyway.

“You're the one who came to me when you thought something was up,” he says. “The others didn't. They probably will, at some point, but you're the one who came first.”

Now you really don't know how to respond. Like even saying supercalifragilisticexpialidocious wouldn't cut it. Or whatever the fuck that word is.

“Y/N?” Taehyun's looking up at you now with a very strange expression on his face—not the sick one, not really, but very... earnest. And honest. It's how you know he wasn't lying with his words, not the way the fucked up part of your brain would try to have you believe.

“Huh? Yeah, I'm still here.” You smile. “I just—thanks, Taehyun.” Your voice drops a little. “I appreciate it. Really.”

“I appreciate you a lot,” Taehyun murmurs. “A lot of people appreciate you too. You just don't see it, sometimes.”

That's probably true, if you operate under the assumption that Taehyun's second statement is true. His first statement too. Which is a logical loophole because the veracity of the third statement relies on the truthfulness of the first two but your brain is a little fried from Taehyun's compliments so you decide to just take them at face value. He's probably right about all three things, as hard as it is for your little fucked up brain to believe. If people do appreciate you as much as he says, you have a hard time noticing it. But hey, that's what therapy's for.

“Maybe,” is what you eventually settle on as an answer. Ambiguous enough to not fully agree, but also to not fully disagree. Taehyun will understand. He always does. “Are you sleepy now?”

He frowns. “No.”

“Well, uh.” You check the time. Wow, you've been talking a while—it's almost six. “Do you want to try drinking the rest of your soup? I can heat it up again.”

Taehyun blinks. Coughs. Eyes the bowl of soup at the end of the table where you can't accidentally knock it over. Hobak might have a chance at it if he weren't asleep in the corner by now. “I can try,” he says warily. “I don't know if I'll be able to finish it, though.”

“Don't force yourself,” you say. “If you don't want to drink it, we can save it for like, tomorrow.”

Taehyun looks up at you with a strangely hopeful expression. “Are you going to stay until tomorrow?”

You pause. Well, it's more like you were planning to go home, fuck around with your word documents for several hours, pass out, and then come back. But with the way Taehyun is looking at you... “Do you want me to stay?” you ask.

He burrows into his blankets even more, like he's shy. If you weren't sure that Taehyun would find some terrible blackmail on you and leak it to all your good for nothing friends, you'd take a picture. “Kinda,” he mumbles.

“I mean, uh...” You think. You have your laptop with you and there's another bowl of soup for yourself waiting on the stove. “I'd probably have to go home and get a few things. But if you really want, I could stay the night...?”

“Please,” he mumbles into the blankets. “I don't really want to be alone.”

“You're so cute when you're sick,” you coo, patting his head. The look on his face would be more menacing if he wasn't curled up in a blanket burrito with a very red nose sticking out. You tell him as much.

“Stop being mean to me when I'm sick,” he mutters.

“I'm not being mean. I'm telling the truth.” You point at the half empty bowl of soup. “Now do you want to try and drink the rest of it, or no?”

He does end up finishing about a third of the remaining soup before he decides his stomach can't handle more. You get another glass of water into him before pulling your own soup out from its spot on the stove, and then you put on some random white noise Netflix drama on Taehyun's laptop as you eat your own dinner. Taehyun makes interesting commentary on the characters and you shit on the plot. At some point, Hobak wanders into your lap, and Taehyun complains about his cat liking you more than him. It's like things are back to normal, except for his sniffling and coughing and you periodically helping him sip water from his glass.

Eventually he does doze off and only then does Hobak decide it's time to snuggle with his owner, so you take the opportunity to clean up the living room table a little, sweeping a few tissues into the trash can and wiping down the table itself. His place is still annoyingly clean even though he's sick—if you were in his position in your apartment, it'd be even more of a shiftiest than it is now—and when you're done washing the dishes and throwing things away, you finally check your phone.

More memes from Beomgyu, a cat picture from Kai, a missed call from Soobin and a following text. You open that up first.

did u find taehyun? is he ok?

You rattle off a quick message in reply.

he's sick at his apartmnt. dw I made him soup and he's sleeping now sorry didn't se ur call earlir

Immediately your phone buzzes with some sort of response, but your brain is already headed in a different direction. Namely trying to decide whether or not you should change the towel on Taehyun's head again. You end up changing it because he still feels pretty warm, but his nose is dotted with sweat. Maybe his fever will break soon.

Settling back down on the floor, you scroll through your phone for a bit and answer Soobin's ensuing text as well as the other meme messages before remembering that you're staying the night, which means you need to head back home and get a few things.

Taehyun's still asleep, though. And you feel kind of bad leaving him here without any notice, even if you know you'll be coming back within an hour. You debate between waking him up and just leaving a note, but in the end you decide to shake him awake a little. He wouldn't want to wake up to just a note, you know that much.

“Taehyun.” You nudge his shoulder lightly. “Taehyun.”

He mumbles a little, eyes blinking open slowly. “Wha…”

“Don't move, you'll disturb Hobak.” You hold him in place. “I'm going to go back to my place to get a few things,” you whisper. “I'll be back within an hour.”

You turn to leave, but something's tugging you back. You look behind you to see one of Taehyun's hands gripping your sleeve.

“... Taehyun?”

“Don't go,” he murmurs adorably, and your heart nearly breaks at the sight. “I have stuff. Spare toothbrush under sink. Sleep on my bed.”

“Taehyun, as much as I appreciate it, I need clothes,” you say. “Not just a toothbrush. Probably a towel too, I'd like to shower. Remember?” You wiggle your fingers. “You're all germy and gross and I've been here for several hours.”

“I have extra towels,” he protests, his eyes blinking awake further. Damn it, this is ruining all your plans to just shake him awake and be on your way in a minute. “And you can wear my clothes. I have stuff that'll fit.”

You have to buffer for a minute to make sure you're hearing this correctly. “Me. Wear your clothes.”

Taehyun nods.

So you weren't hallucinating sounds. You shake your head. “Taehyun, seriously.”

“I'm being serious,” he whines. And he looks so very heartbroken at the thought of you leaving, even if it's just for an hour, that you actually find yourself reconsidering. Kang Taehyun, a full grown man with muscles and a sleep schedule, is acting like a child and melting your heart in the process. “You can use my shampoo and soap too.”

Oh, God. He's being so ridiculously convincing. What is his problem. You sigh. “I'm going to make a mess, probably.”

“I don't care.” Taehyun pouts and it's even more ridiculously convincing. “Everything's already messy.”

You look around. That's a blatant fucking lie. Everything is still in very much spotless condition. But when you look back at him with a raised eyebrow, Taehyun's eyes are already fluttering shut like a cute little baby and you find your heart melting again. “You can't deny me my dying request,” he mumbles.

“I never thought you'd be this dramatic when you were sick,” you mutter. “All right, all right, I'll stay. On one condition.” You point at him. “Go back to sleep.”

His eyes narrow. “Promise you won't leave?”

You sigh again. “I promise.”

He goes quiet, then, his eyes fluttering shut. You turn toward the bathroom, ready to take stock of whatever he's got in his unnecessarily neat cabinets, but a little noise makes you look back once more. “Hm?”

“Can you pat my hair,” Taehyun mumbles, so quietly you can barely hear. He looks half asleep—his eyes aren't even open as he speaks. “'s soothing.”

That's it. Sick Taehyun is actually going to kill you because of cuteness overload. You settle on the edge of the table like you did when you were feeding him, not even bothering to hide the smile on your face anymore. “Sure, Taehyun,” you say, stroking through his messy hair. “Feel better?”

“Mm.” He snuggles deeper into the blankets. Your heart is melting more than you thought it could. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” you murmur. “Sleep now, okay?”

“Mm,” he mumbles. He's already half gone.

You smile wider as his breath evens into sleep.

. . . . .

One shower and requisite cleanup later, you've settled on the small armchair by the couch and set up your laptop to write. No longer does a blank word document stare back at you menacingly when you open the application, which is encouraging, and for some reason, the soft sound of Taehyun's sleeping breaths is good background noise as you try to get into this final chapter.

Once you've lost yourself in the writing, it can take anywhere from a few hours to like, a day, or maybe three or five days, for you to pull yourself out of the daze. When you look up from your laptop, eyes burning with the need to look at something that isn't a screen and throat parched for water, the clock says it's a few minutes past midnight.

Time for a break, then. You sneak a glance at Taehyun, who's still fast asleep. If he were awake he'd be forcing you to drink water right about now, anyway.

You down a glass of water in the kitchen, then bring another back into the living room only to see that Taehyun has since shifted in his sleep and is about to kick off all his blankets. Probably half due to Hobak, who has made a nest right on top of him and clawed off several sheets.

That can't be a good thing. You go to pull them back up around him but he shifts again, this time actually kicking half the blanket burrito off of him. Hobak does not help matters by waking up and skittering his way off the couch, taking the other half of the burrito with him. In the process, he also manages to drag Taehyun's shirt... up.

Oh. Okay. This is—totally fine. So, super, totally fine. You put down your glass of water before you can do something like drop it and shatter it and make a huge mess that you're unqualified to clean. Like, logically, you know that Taehyun goes to the gym every day he can, but somehow you did... not make the connection between gym every day and abs.

Because Taehyun has abs. Very nice ones, in fact. The intrusive thoughts are telling you to touch them but you have just enough sense at ten minutes past midnight to abstain, which is something you should earn an award for. Instead, you avert your gaze and pull the blankets back over him as much as possible, swatting away the image of abs abs abs abs abs whenever it comes up. Which is too many times for a single minute.

You sigh, looking back at your abandoned laptop. Part of you wants to go back to writing but another part of you still wants a break (aka time to think about abs abs abs abs—shut the fuck up), so you pull out your phone and settle on the ground. If it's past midnight, that means the new day's wordle is up.

Sure enough, a blank puzzle greets you when you pull up the site. You try a random first guess—grief, it's got two vowels so it can't be too bad—and come up with some decent clues. Hm...

Your second guess goes without much luck. So does your third, though at least all the letters that are confirmed to be in the word are in the correct place. You scan the rest of the keyboard that isn't completely blacked out. What makes sense? Is there even a word that makes sense? What if it's something stupid and contrived, or even worse, a word with a repeating letter—

“Merit.”

You shriek.

Taehyun blinks owlishly from above on his perch on the couch, staring at you heaving on the floor. “Y/N?”

“Jesus Christ,” you gasp. “Taehyun, don't scare me like that—I thought you were asleep—”

“I was. Then I woke up.” He blinks. “I feel better, I think.”

“Let me check your fever.” You place a hand to his head. Even under the lingering coolness coming from the mostly warmed over cloth, you can tell he's come down a few degrees. “Oh, good. It looks like you aren't lying.”

Taehyun scowls. It almost looks like a normal expression for him. “Of course I wasn't lying.”

“Uh uh.” You shake your head. “I'm ninety nine percent sure you'd probably lie to me so that you could end up going to work tomorrow. Don't try to refute me.”

He grumbles, but in the end says nothing. You take that as a win. “Give me a second, I'm going to change the towel.”

With a new towel on his forehead and the sweat wiped away from the rest of his face, Taehyun actually looks somewhat better than the death warmed over look you saw on him when you first arrived earlier today. Or yesterday, since it's past midnight. Wow, your schedule is seriously fucked.

You sit back on your heels. “Okay, what were you saying before? Something about merit?”

Taehyun blinks. “Your wordle. Try merit.”

You look down at your phone where it's lying on the floor, your incorrect wordle guesses staring back up at you, taunting you like you're a fucking imbecile who can't guess the correct word in three tries or less. You blink, picking up your phone. Merit might actually work... You tap it in.

“Shut the fuck up,” you whisper, staring at the screen in horror.

It's the correct answer. It's the correct fucking answer. You glare at Taehyun, who glances back at you innocently from his little burrito on the couch. “Was it correct?”

“Yes, it was, you—argh.” You put your phone down before you can do something stupid like throw it across the room. “Why the fuck are you being my editor when you're sick as a dog?”

Taehyun blinks. “I'm not being your editor.”

“STOP EDITING MY GUESSES!” you screech.

“I didn't edit anything,” he replies in a matter of fact tone that makes you want to scream even louder. “I just found the correct answer.”

You groan, flopping to the floor. “I hate you.”

“If you hated me, you wouldn't still be here.”

You glare at him. “Bet. I'll leave right now.”

“You wouldn't.” Taehyun stares back at you, steady, resolute, but...

Aw. There was a little tremble of uncertainty in his voice.

Instantly your heart melts, but you have too much pride (you shouldn't, your dignity was flushed down the drain at birth) to give in completely. “Yeah, I won't leave,” you say, rolling your eyes. “I'm staying until you get better, doofus. Now go back to sleep. I don't know why you woke up.”

Taehyun pouts. “Can I get some water?”

“Anything for you, Your Majesty.”

He successfully drinks half of the glass you bring back to him, and then you have to help him shuffle to the bathroom. When he comes out, you shuffle him back to the couch, where he collapses into a blanket burrito once more. “Sleepy,” he mumbles. “Pat my head.”

“What a demanding little child you are.” You start patting his head anyway. “Go to bed, Taehyun. You'll feel better in the morning.”

“Mm.” He snuggles closer to your hand, and you have to fight back a coo for the umpteenth time today. Or in the past twenty four hours, because it's Saturday. Allegedly. “Goodnight.”

You laugh a little, stroking his hair. “Goodnight, Taehyun.”

. . . . .

In the morning, Taehyun's fever has mostly broken, and by midafternoon, he's able to get up and walk around. Soobin and Yeonjun show up at lunch with some convenience store soup that he can actually taste, and then for dinner, when Beomgyu and Kai come around, you make your mom's famous soup and all of them say it tastes better than convenience store anything. You beam with pride.

All this is to say that when evening comes, you're mostly convinced that Taehyun is actively getting better (he hasn't had a coughing fit in five hours, you were counting) and he probably won't die if you don't spend the night. Taehyun doesn't seem as convinced, but when you show him the reading on the thermometer that Beomgyu brought along, he kind of acquiesces. At least that's what you think he does when he sinks back into the couch.

“Look, your nose isn't even that red anymore.” You show him a picture you took when he was sleeping, then snap another picture right now before he can protest. “See the difference? Before and after. It's evidence.” Taehyun likes evidence.

So eventually, after washing your clothes from yesterday and changing from the t-shirt and sweatpants Taehyun lent you, you head back to your apartment. It's dark and Taehyun-less and Hobak-less and for a moment, standing in the doorway, you feel a little lonely, but then you remember you have a deadline to meet in three days and half a chapter left to write and your mind decides to latch onto that.

Which is to say when Taehyun calls two days later, demanding you open your door, you're mostly a mess. Not entirely, because it's only half a chapter and you have probably just a few paragraphs left, but you've written the ending three different times and each time it just sucked more. You'd probably start biting things if it weren't for Taehyun's call.

Stumbling out of your little writer cave, you throw open your apartment door. “Hi. Why did you ask if I had a mask.”

“I forgot one from home and I thought you might possibly be sick. Also, I might have leftover germs.” Taehyun pushes into the door, vaguely reminiscent of when you shoved yourself into his apartment the day you found out he was sick. “Have you eaten? And do you have one?”

You blink. He looks... mostly normal. There's a little sparkle back in his eyes, and even though you can't see his nose under the mask to tell how red it is, he doesn't sound nearly as congested anymore as he used to be. He actually came all the way to your apartment so he can't be feeling too bad.

But there's still something kind of... off. You're not sure what it is. Maybe it's the remnants of sickness still clinging to his body, but while the conjecture makes sense, it doesn't feel right.

He looks at you. “Are you listening to me?”

“… No.”

Taehyun sighs. “I asked if you've eaten. And if you have a mask.”

“I ran out of masks like two weeks ago and forgot to restock.” Ignoring Taehyun’s groan, you purse your lips. “I... think I ate a cup of ramen last night.” A memory returns of you dumping an empty ramen cup into the wastebasket by your desk. “Yeah, I definitely ate ramen last night.”

“So maybe you aren't sick.” Taehyun sighs, and it sounds kind of relieved. “What were you thinking, coming over and staying the night when I was sick?”

“I—what?” You poke his forehead. “You were the one insisting that I stay over! Do you remember yourself? You were literally begging me to stay, you wouldn’t let me leave to even get clothes—”

“You shouldn't have agreed!” Taehyun snaps, and that's when you see the anxiety buzzing around his figure. Ah. That's what was off about him. He looks a little jumpy. “You should have gone home and not worried, Y/N, I would've been fine.”

“No, you wouldn't have.” You wish you hadn’t left your phone in the office, you could show him pictures—evidence—that he was sick as a fucking dog for the day you were there. “You were dead and dying on your couch. Who was going to take care of you? Hobak?”

Taehyun looks at you for a very long moment, almost tensed to spring. Then, all of a sudden, he deflates. “I didn't want you to get sick too,” he mumbles. “You already overwork yourself.”

“Says you.” You snort. “And you’re forgetting, I have an immune system made of steel.”

All Taehyun does is raise an eyebrow.

Damn, you forgot that he's mostly back to normal, which means you can't get away with speaking outrageous untruths because he'll catch you in them immediately. “Well, that means you're better,” you mutter.

“Huh?”

“You're judging me with that raised eyebrow.” You point. “It took you a whole three or five seconds or something to process my bullshit when I came over. Now you're back to dealing with it in one.”

“I feel like your standards for determining whether or not I'm sick are kind of concerning,” Taehyun replies. “Whether or not I'm able to judge you.”

“Well, it's that, and also you look considerably better than when you were burritoed on the couch with Hobak sitting on you like a fluffy hat. In addition to the fact that you were able to get on the subway and walk here like a normal human being.” You blink. “Anyway, why are you here? I have a deadline. I feel like I probably mentioned this to you. Actually wait, you're my editor. Don't you have my deadlines memorized better than I do?”

Suddenly, Taehyun looks very... embarrassed. Which is interesting and concerning because he rarely looks embarrassed. You've seen shy Taehyun, giggly Taehyun, cute Taehyun, but never really embarrassed Taehyun.

“Just...” He shrugs slightly, then doesn't say anything else.

You put your hand to his forehead and he jumps. It's not feverish, but you still narrow your eyes. “Are you still sick? You're weirdly jumpy today.”

“I'm not sick,” he mumbles. “I just... thanks.” He swallows very visibly. “For taking care of me.”

You blink once. Twice. It's like when he complimented you when he was ill—how the fuck do you respond to that?

“It's fine,” you eventually say, feeling like something is definitely not fine because there's still tension in the air except you don't know how to resolve it. “I mean, you're always taking care of me. It was the least I could do for you.”

For some reason, that seems to upset Taehyun more. His eyebrows knit together like he's worried and you have no idea why anything you said could have made him more jumpy or nervous or upset. “... Taehyun? Are you mad?”

“It's not a negotiation,” he says, and now you're more confused than ever. Negotiation?

“It's not like... a tradeoff.” He blinks and this time you can't look away from his big eyes looking at you like the saddest, most worried puppy in the world. “I take care of you because I like taking care of you.”

Vaguely, a memory starts to re-form from when Taehyun was sick and you were sitting by him on the couch and you were probably patting his head while talking. Or maybe not. You're not entirely sure. But you do very much remember talking about how he shouldn't need to make you take care of yourself because you should be able to do it on your own, but your brain has made it clear that one some days you can't, and then he said something very akin to what he just said...

I don't do any of that because I have to. I do it because I care about you and I worry about you sometimes. Not because I have to.

You didn't know how to respond then. You still don't know how to respond now.

“Uh.” You blink. “Is this about, like. What I said when you were conked out on the couch.”

Taehyun sighs. “Kind of, yeah.”

“Okay, we can probably move past that.” You try to smile. “I mean, like. I'm getting help. I'm figuring things out. At some point I'll actually be able to deal with my own shit, hopefully.”

“That's the point,” Taehyun snaps, looking even more upset. “I don't take care of you because it's an obligation, Y/N.”

You're starting to get a little annoyed now, too. “Okay, you've said that several times. It's not as if I don't believe it at all, Taehyun. I don’t really get what you’re trying to say.”

“God.” He puts his face into his hands and stays there for one very awkward, charged moment. When he lifts his head again, though, he looks a little calmer. “You just... act, sometimes, like me taking care of you is this huge burden on me. It isn't.” He takes a deep breath. “I like taking care of you, Y/N. Seriously.”

He's said that twice now. That means, logically, that it's probably true. Logically. But mentally, your brain has decided not to compute it properly. “Uh.” You try your best to hold his very intense gaze. “I gotta ask—why would you ever enjoy taking care of my bitch ass?”

Taehyun almost laughs. You can see it. You can fucking see it and it's more of a relief than anything else, honestly, to see him able to laugh.

“Do I really have to spell it out for you?” he asks, now smiling slightly.

You blink. “Spell what out?”

“Y/N.” He steps closer, and suddenly you become much more aware of the very short distance between the two of you. You were already cutting it kind of close before in this little entryway, and now you're even closer. “I like taking care of you because I like you.”

I like you.

Oh. Oh wow. Okay. That's certainly—a statement. A very strange one. One that could be taken—in a myriad of ways, certainly. Probably he meant it in a friendly way. Like, as in he likes you as a good friend and likes taking care of you that way.

But even the idiot part of your brain knows you'd be stupid to think that with the way he's looking at you right now.

“Uh.” Your voice is a lot squeakier than you'd like it to be. “You don't, uh, mean it, like, in, um, a friend way. Right?”

Taehyun shakes his head. “No, I don't.”

Holy shit. Holy shit. You're probably going to have an aneurysm. Okay, he confirmed it which means your brain can stop being a fucking stupid idiot now, he confirmed it and there is literally no reason for him to lie.

Okay, but what if—

“You're not lying to me, right?”

Taehyun blinks. “Why would I lie to you about this?”

Exactly. Shut up, brain. You smile. It probably looks somewhat insane. “Sorry. Brain being stupid. But. Uh. Let me get this straight.” You take a deep breath that feels a little too shaky when it comes out. “You like me.”

Taehyun doesn't even bat an eye. “Yes.”

Oh. Okay. Wow. You close your eyes for a long moment. Maybe this is a dream. But when you open them, Taehyun is still there.

Probably not a dream, then.

You take a deep breath. “Okay, so—you, Kang Taehyun of the gym bros—”

“I'm not a gym bro.”

“—You go to the gym every day, you're definitely a gym bro—of the men who own cats, of perfect abs and bringing me coffee when I haven't seen the light of day for a week, like me, Y/N, writer gremlin extraordinaire and stupid bitch supreme.” You pause. “Did I get that right?”

“You're not stupid.” Taehyun frowns. “Also, when did you see my abs?”

Your mind chooses then to very conveniently place the memory of Hobak dragging several sheets to the floor while clawing Taehyun's shirt up at the forefront of your memory. Horrible. Terrible. You're going to have to have your therapist order you a brain transplant sometime soon.

“You kinda rolled over in your sleep at one point and dropped half the blankets to the floor.” It's kind of funny watching Taehyun's face redden with embarrassment. Or at least it would be if you weren't internally screaming as much as you currently are. “And then Hobak was sleeping on top of you but woke up so he dragged the rest of them with him and in the process he kinda rolled your shirt up and you flashed me.”

Taehyun is very red. Redder than you've ever seen him. And you've seen him drunk. Also very sick.

Before your brain can tell you to shut the fuck up, your mouth decides to speak again. “I covered you with the blanket. Promise.”

“Oh God.” Taehyun puts his face back in his hands. “This is…”

“Look, you just said that you liked me,” you protest. “I feel like this is a fair trade. Or something.”

He looks up at you, deadpan. “A confession for... what exactly? The reveal of an ab reveal?”

“Oh come on, you go to the gym every day and anyone can see the results. You having abs would probably be the least surprising thing ever.” You scoff, very blatantly ignoring the fact that you were extremely surprised for zero reason about him having ridiculously sculpted abdominal muscles.

Taehyun groans. “This is a terrible conversation.”

“As I'm pretty sure most conversations with me are.” You smile widely. It definitely looks insane because you don't know what else to do and when that happens all you end up able to do is smile like a serial killer. “Are you rethinking your past words?”

“No!”

You jump. Taehyun also seems to realize the volume of his words because he kind of cringes into himself. “Sorry. But no, I'm not.”

This is terrible. Not even a ridiculously horrible conversation with you and your over caffeinated, sleep deprived brain is deterring him. You ignore the therapist voice part of your brain that asks why you want to deter him and look him straight in the eye. “Why?”

Taehyun blinks. “What?”

“Why.” You gesture vaguely to the air. “Why do you like me, even now?”

“What do you mean, even now?” Taehyun raises an eyebrow and oooh, this is terrible, he's taking another step closer and there's probably like two feet of distance at most separating your bodies. Vaguely you remember that you haven't even stepped out of the entryway, that you're both still standing right in front of the door. “Your conversations are a very physical manifestation of you, and I like you. So why would talking with you change my mind?”

“Okay, when you put it like that, it makes sense.” You huff. “But also, my brain can't exactly wrap its mind around the fact that someone with their life so put together at almost all times likes me, a...” A meme gif that Beomgyu once sent you pops into mind. It was a blue dumpster set on fire floating down what you presumed was a flooded street. It seems to fit the situation. “A certified dumpster fire that’s floating down a flooded street.”

Taehyun laughs. He actually laughs and you don't know what to do with it. He looks ridiculously cute and it's doing unhealthy things to your heart—like making it skip beats or some shit. “Where do you keep getting these things?”

“Beomgyu.”

“Figures.” He shakes his head. “You may be a certified dumpster fire, but you're also very much... Y/N. A kind, wonderful, amazing person who writes extremely well and has a way with words that makes me cry, who always tries their best in everything they set out to do, who makes a really amazing sick person soup that I would eat even if I wasn't sick.”

He's smiling now and it's doing even worse things to your heart. You never liked the metaphor of someone's heart beating out of their chest because it reminded you a little too much of panic attacks, but now you kind of feel like you need to use it because there's nothing else to explain this feeling. At least it's being used in a situation where you are very much not about to have a panic attack.

Taehyun's continuing. He's continuing with no regard for your sanity and you can't even stop him because your throat is refusing to allow you to speak. “I like that you're self-aware, Y/N, and I like that you're honest. But I also think that you never really understand that you're capable of a lot more than you give yourself credit for.” His smile softens.

That’s it. You're going to need him to pay your hospital bills. And therapy bills. Actually, your therapist might need to bill him because he's all you’re going to be able to talk about for several sessions straight, just your really hot editor and his really cute smile.

“You're brilliant, you're smart, and you're funny and kind, and really, I don't see how anyone couldn't like you.” Taehyun looks a little nervous now but he keeps going. “Honestly.”

You open your mouth. And then close it, mostly because you think if you try to say anything you're going to make some noise that is extremely reminiscent of a dying whale. It takes you a second to compose yourself and get rid of the stupid lump growing in your throat but finally, you've convinced your brain that you are sane enough to speak—

“My therapist is going to hear about you.”

Oh God. Oh fucking God. You really just said that. And you've scared Taehyun, look at his big eyes, what the fuck is wrong with you why are you such a monster—

“Uh.” He blinks. “Why?”

You blink too and it surprises you to realize that there are tears beginning to form behind your eyes. This is worse than you thought it would be.

“Because you're hot and sweet and kind and you always take care of me even though technically you're just my editor and like I've talked to my therapist about the hot gym bro editor in the office before but that was mostly because we were like, friends or something, and I was worried that you were doing too much for me and I wasn't doing enough for you so then she told me about friendships being a two way street and that I'm definitely not the one forcing you into taking care of me so you're probably doing it of your own volition. And we worked on enforcing that for my brain for a while but that was in a friend context and I never told her that I had a kind of dumb stupid kid crush on you but now you're telling me you actually like me as something that is not a friend and you are complimenting me and holy shit I have so much to unpack.” You take a deep, shaky breath. “My therapist is going to hear about this for the next twenty sessions and she's going to get sick of hearing me talk about you and your smile so she's going to have to bill you because you’re the one who did this to me.”

Great, you're really crying now. Shoving the heels of your palms into your eyes in a botched attempt to stop the tears, you try to breathe. “Pay my fucking hospital bills, dipshit, you're going to send me into cardiac arrest.”

“How about I try something else instead of paying your hospital bills?” Taehyun's voice sounds above you, light, amused, entirely too sweet for your brain to handle. And then—as if that wasn't fucking enough—two warm arms begin to encircle your body, slow, slow, and you know this is Taehyun's way of reminding you that you could back away at any point and he won't take offense, but it feels really fucking good to be hugged right now so you let him wrap you up tight against his chest, your head knocking against his shoulder. “Is this okay?”

“... I'm going to cry into your shirt.”

Taehyun laughs. His chest kind of rumbles with the sound and it feels ridiculously soothing to your still rapidly beating heart. “That's fine,” he says. “I think I coughed on your clothes a lot more when you were taking care of me.”

“Yeah. About that.” You swallow, choking back another round of tears. “Why were you so pissed about me taking care of you? You'd do the exact same thing for me. You already do the exact same thing for me.”

“... I don't think I've ever taken care of you when you were sick to oblivion, Y/N.”

“You bring me coffee like clockwork every three days when I descend into writer gremlin oblivion and force me to eat, sleep, and shower.” You gulp. “That's how I knew something was wrong with you. Five days passed and you didn't come.” You blink. “Oh, also Soobin said you didn't come in to work that day.”

“Yeah, I know. You told me, remember?” And vaguely you do remember, which should probably make you feel embarrassed at having repeated knowledge to Taehyun who apparently still retains information even when his brain is working at twenty five percent capacity, but now he's patting the back of your head and you kind of just want to space out into the void. “And... I just, I know how you are sometimes. I know how you try to take care of yourself, but even then, I know your immune system can be kind of shit.” Taehyun sighs. “I got worried that you got sick because of me, and I really hated that, and then you weren’t answering my texts for a while...”

“I had a deadline.” You blink. “I still have it.”

“I know. But I also wasn't thinking properly.” He pulls you a bit closer and it makes you want to cry harder. This is too sweet. Too nice. Too comfortable. Too much Taehyun, you’re drowning in him. “It's kind of hard to think properly around you, you know.”

“I live in my own brain, Taehyun.” You let out a very wet laugh. “I don't think properly around me. Ever.”

“Touché.” He joins your laugh. “But in my case, it's because you're sometimes a little too brilliant.”

“Or because I talk a little too fast,” you reply in an effort to deflect because if you let yourself process how sweet that was you’re going to probably die right here and now.

“That too.” He pats your back. “But mostly the first reason.”

His admission forces you to process it, which brings a fresh round of tears to your eyes and now you're getting snot on his shirt instead of just saltwater. “Sorry,” you mumble. “I'm feeling a lot of emotions right now.”

“I can tell.” You can't bring yourself to look up at him just yet, but you're certain you hear a smile in Taehyun's voice. “It's okay. I'm feeling a lot of emotions too.”

“You're not crying, though.”

“Just because I'm crying doesn't mean I'm not feeling anything.” He pulls back just enough that you look up again to whine about why, but then you lock eyes with him and every word in your throat dies. “Remember? You're the one who said crying was an overused tool to make characters show emotion.”

Fuck. You did say that. You said that on like your second time meeting him when you went off on a rant about cliches and tropes and ended with the caveat that while they can be done well, some people just overuse them for the heck of it and you hate it. “I can't believe you remember that fucking rant,” you mutter.

“I remember a lot of things about you.” Taehyun smiles. Your heart is on its way to beating out of your chest again. “Sorry, was that too cheesy?”

“Yes,” you snap, but Taehyun's smile only widens. “Stop it. You're going to send me into cardiac arrest for the second time.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Second time?”

“Yeah, the first was when I saw your abs.”

That was a terrible thing to say. Horrible. For you and for Taehyun. You because you can't get the image out of your brain for the nth time, and Taehyun because his ears are turning red again.

“… Sorry.”

“It's... fine.” Taehyun coughs a little, but it doesn't sound like a sick cough. More like a clearing his throat cough. It sounds kind of shy, which is very cute. “Sorry. I'm just kind of... shy about it.”

You blink. “Why are you shy about your fucking abs?”

“I just am.” Taehyun pouts and you kind of want to slap it off. Or kiss it. Or both. None of those choices are probably a good idea at the moment.

Silence kind of falls for a moment. It's not that uncomfortable. The tension from before is gone, at least. But then Taehyun has to ruin it with his sweet little voice and sweet little smile. Bastard.

“I don't think you ever responded to my confession,” he says, once again trapping you with his dark eyes that you can't seem to look away from in times like these.

You make a very intelligent noise. It sounds something like 'uh.'

“I said I like you.” Taehyun is taking no prisoners now. Actually, he'll have your heart soon if he keeps looking at you like this. “Do you have anything to say to that?”

“... I told you already that I had a dumb kid crush on you.”

Taehyun shrugs. “Does that dumb kid crush mean you still like me too?”

You stare at him for a moment. “Are you really going to make me say it?”

He grins. “Yeah.”

“You're a terrible human being, Kang Taehyun.” You jab a finger into his chest, which was absolutely the wrong thing to do because it is hard and muscled and now you're having bad thoughts again. About abs. “I feel like a fucking middle schooler,” you mutter. “I like you.”

“Could you say it again?” Your jaw drops as Taehyun looks at you, all doe-eyed and innocent with so much evil brimming behind that sweet expression. A true demon in disguise. “I didn't really hear you.”

You stare at him for one second. Two. Three.

It's like it happens in slow motion. You watch your arm shoot out, fingers grabbing a fistful of the front of Taehyun's shirt. You watch yourself jerk the arm back, see Taehyun's eyes widen for a just a moment before—

You're kissing him. You're kissing Kang Taehyun, your editor, your good friend, the boy you just nursed back to health like three days ago, the guy you've had a dumb idiot crush on for longer than is probably healthy and who apparently has a dumb idiot crush on you too.

Taehyun makes this small noise into your mouth and your brain promptly goes blank.

When you come to, you've both pulled away, somehow, and you're trying to breathe properly. Which is an ordeal, considering you just kissed Taehyun—you just kissed Taehyun—and remembering that in and of itself is taking all of your brainpower. There's none left for air.

“I like you, Taehyun,” you say too loudly and too clearly, but it's worth it for the sparkly doe-eyed look that burst full force into Taehyun's expression. Yeah. The imminent cardiac arrest is totally worth it.

Wait. Cardiac arrest. Your mind whirls. Hospital. Sick.

Taehyun was sick two days ago.

“Oh, shit.”

Taehyun blinks like he's just come back to Earth. “What?”

You try for a sheepish smile. “So, uh. What are the chances of me getting sick, now that I've kissed you?”

(You succumb to chills, snot, and a light fever exactly one day after your deadline has passed. Taehyun arrives with an overnight bag, plenty of disinfecting wipes, and several surgical masks that he wears the entire time he's here. Which is nice because he shouldn't get sick a second time, but also terrible because you can't kiss him.

It's okay, though. Because when you're finally feeling well once more, the two of you go to meet your publisher at the office, and Taehyun doesn't let go of your hand the whole way there. And when you leave, in full view of the entire lobby and all of your friends parked at various angles around it—

He kisses you. Once, soft, light, gentle.

Someone gasps. Someone else screams.

Grinning widely, you pull him in for a second one immediately after.)

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 flower over my fucking casket I'm so down bad for taehyun it’s a problem)

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