#i was grinning throughout the brainstorming process

[bookshelf-in-progress]

A Wise Pair of Fools: A Retelling of “The Farmer’s Clever Daughter”

For the Four Loves Fairy Tale Challenge at @inklings-challenge.

Faith

I wish you could have known my husband when he was a young man. How you would have laughed at him! He was so wonderfully pompous—oh, you’d have no idea unless you’d seen him then. He’s weathered beautifully, but back then, his beauty was bright and new, all bronze and ebony. He tried to pretend he didn’t care for personal appearances, but you could tell he felt his beauty. How could a man not be proud when he looked like one of creation’s freshly polished masterpieces every time he stepped out among his dirty, sweaty peasantry?

But his pride in his face was nothing compared to the pride he felt over his mind. He was clever, even then, and he knew it. He’d grown up with an army of nursemaids to exclaim, “What a clever boy!” over every mildly witty observation he made. He’d been tutored by some of the greatest scholars on the continent, attended the great universities, traveled further than most people think the world extends. He could converse like a native in fifteen living languages and at least three dead ones.

And books! Never a man like him for reading! His library was nothing to what it is now, of course, but he was making a heroic start. Always a book in his hand, written by some dusty old man who never said in plain language what he could dress up in words that brought four times the work to some lucky printer. Every second breath he took came out as a quotation. It fairly baffled his poor servants—I’m certain to this day some of them assume Plato and Socrates were college friends of his.

Well, at any rate, take a man like that—beautiful and over-educated—and make him king over an entire nation—however small—before he turns twenty-five, and you’ve united all earthly blessings into one impossibly arrogant being.

Unfortunately, Alistair’s pomposity didn’t keep him properly aloof in his palace. He’d picked up an idea from one of his old books that he should be like one of the judge-kings of old, walking out among his people to pass judgment on their problems, giving the inferior masses the benefit of all his twenty-four years of wisdom. It’s all right to have a royal patron, but he was so patronizing. Just as if we were all children and he was our benevolent father. It wasn’t strange to see him walking through the markets or looking over the fields—he always managed to look like he floated a step or two above the common ground the rest of us walked on—and we heard stories upon stories of his judgments. He was decisive, opinionated. Always thought he had a better way of doing things. Was always thinking two and ten and twelve steps ahead until a poor man’s head would be spinning from all the ways the king found to see through him. Half the time, I wasn’t sure whether to fear the man or laugh at him. I usually laughed.

So then you can see how the story of the mortar—what do you mean you’ve never heard it? You could hear it ten times a night in any tavern in the country. I tell it myself at least once a week! Everyone in the palace is sick to death of it!

Oh, this is going to be a treat! Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a fresh audience?

It happened like this. It was spring of the year I turned twenty-one. Father plowed up a field that had lain fallow for some years, with some new-fangled deep-cutting plow that our book-learned king had inflicted upon a peasantry that was baffled by his scientific talk. Father was plowing near a river when he uncovered a mortar made of solid gold. You know, a mortar—the thing with the pestle, for grinding things up. Don’t ask me why on earth a goldsmith would make such a thing—the world’s full of men with too much money and not enough sense, and housefuls of servants willing to take too-valuable trinkets off their hands. Someone decades ago had swiped this one and apparently found my father’s farm so good a hiding place that they forgot to come back for it.

Anyhow, my father, like the good tenant he was, understood that as he’d found a treasure on the king’s land, the right thing to do was to give it to the king. He was all aglow with his noble purpose, ready to rush to the palace at first light to do his duty by his liege lord.

I hope you can see the flaw in his plan. A man like Alistair, certain of his own cleverness, careful never to be outwitted by his peasantry? Come to a man like that with a solid gold mortar, and his first question’s going to be…?

That’s right. “Where’s the pestle?”

I tried to tell Father as much, but he—dear, sweet, innocent man—saw only his simple duty and went forth to fulfill it. He trotted into the king’s throne room—it was his public day—all smiles and eagerness.

Alistair took one look at him and saw a peasant tickled to death that he was pulling a fast one on the king—giving up half the king’s rightful treasure in the hopes of keeping the other half and getting a fat reward besides.

Alistair tore into my father—his tongue was much sharper then—taking his argument to pieces until Father half-believed he had hidden away the pestle somewhere, probably after stealing both pieces himself. In his confusion, Father looked even guiltier, and Alistair ordered his guard to drag Father off to the dungeons until they could arrange a proper hearing—and, inevitably, a hanging.

As they dragged him to his doom, my father had the good sense to say one coherent phrase, loud enough for the entire palace to hear. “If only I had listened to my daughter!”

Alistair, for all his brains, hadn’t expected him to say something like that. He had Father brought before him, and questioned him until he learned the whole story of how I’d urged Father to bury the mortar again and not say a word about it, so as to prevent this very scene from occurring.

About five minutes after that, I knocked over a butter churn when four soldiers burst into my father’s farmhouse and demanded I go with them to the castle. I made them clean up the mess, then put on my best dress and did up my hair—in those days, it was thick and golden, and fell to my ankles when unbound—and after traveling to the castle, I went, trembling, up the aisle of the throne room.

Alistair had made an effort that morning to look extra handsome and extra kingly. He still has robes like those, all purple and gold, but the way they set off his black hair and sharp cheekbones that day—I’ve never seen anything like it. He looked half-divine, the spirit of judgment in human form. At the moment, I didn’t feel like laughing at him.

Looming on his throne, he asked me, “Is it true that you advised this man to hide the king’s rightful property from him?” (Alistair hates it when I imitate his voice—but isn’t it a good impression?)

I said yes, it was true, and Alistair asked me why I’d done such a thing, and I said I had known this disaster would result, and he asked how I knew, and I said (and I think it’s quite good), that this is what happens when you have a king who’s too clever to be anything but stupid.

Naturally, Alistair didn’t like that answer a bit, but I’d gotten on a roll, and it was my turn to give him a good tongue-lashing. What kind of king did he think he was, who could look at a man as sweet and honest as my father and suspect him of a crime? Alistair was so busy trying to see hidden lies that he couldn’t see the truth in front of his face. So determined not to be made a fool of that he was making himself into one. If he persisted in suspecting everyone who tried to do him a good turn, no one would be willing to do much of anything for him. And so on and so forth.

You might be surprised at my boldness, but I had come into that room not expecting to leave it without a rope around my neck, so I intended to speak my mind while I had the chance. The strangest thing was that Alistair listened, and as he listened, he lost some of that righteous arrogance until he looked almost human. And the end of it all was that he apologized to me!

Well, you could have knocked me over with a feather at that! I didn’t faint, but I came darn close. That arrogant, determined young king, admitting to a simple farmer’s daughter that he’d been wrong?

He did more than admit it—he made amends. He let Father keep the mortar, and then bought it from him at its full value. Then he gifted Father the farm where we lived, making us outright landowners. After the close of the day’s hearings, he even invited us to supper with him, and I found that King Alistair wasn’t a half-bad conversational partner. Some of those books he read sounded almost interesting.

For a year after that, Alistair kept finding excuses to come by the farm. He would check on Father’s progress and baffle him with advice. We ran into each other in the street so often that I began to expect it wasn’t mere chance. We’d talk books, and farming, and sharpen our wits on each other. We’d do wordplay, puzzles, tongue-twisters. A game, but somehow, I always thought, some strange sort of test.

Would you believe, even his proposal was a riddle? Yes, an actual riddle! One spring morning, I came across Alistair on a corner of my father's land, and he got down on one knee, confessed his love for me, and set me a riddle. He had the audacity to look into the face of the woman he loved—me!—and tell me that if I wanted to accept his proposal, I would come to him at his palace, not walking and not riding, not naked and not dressed, not on the road and not off it.

Do you know, I think he actually intended to stump me with it? For all his claim to love me, he looked forward to baffling me! He looked so sure of himself—as if all his book-learning couldn’t be beat by just a bit of common sense.

If I’d really been smart, I suppose I’d have run in the other direction, but, oh, I wanted to beat him so badly. I spent about half a minute solving the riddle and then went off to make my preparations.

The next morning, I came to the castle just like he asked. Neither walking nor riding—I tied myself to the old farm mule and let him half-drag me. Neither on the road nor off it—only one foot dragging in a wheel rut at the end. Neither naked nor dressed—merely wrapped in a fishing net. Oh, don’t look so shocked! There was so much rope around me that you could see less skin than I’m showing now.

If I’d hoped to disappoint Alistair, well, I was disappointed. He radiated joy. I’d never seen him truly smile before that moment—it was incandescent delight. He swept me in his arms, gave me a kiss without a hint of calculation in it, then had me taken off to be properly dressed, and we were married within a week.

It was a wonderful marriage. We got along beautifully—at least until the next time I outwitted him. But I won’t bore you with that story again—

You don’t know that one either? Where have you been hiding yourself?

Oh, I couldn’t possibly tell you that one. Not if it’s your first time. It’s much better the way Alistair tells it.

What time is it?

Perfect! He’s in his library just now. Go there and ask him to tell you the whole thing.

Yes, right now! What are you waiting for?

Alistair

Faith told you all that, did she? And sent you to me for the rest? That woman! It’s just like her! She thinks I have nothing better to do than sit around all day and gossip about our courtship!

Where are you going? I never said I wouldn’t tell the story! Honestly, does no one have brains these days? Sit down!

Yes, yes, anywhere you like. One chair’s as good as another—I built this room for comfort. Do you take tea? I can ring for a tray—the story tends to run long.

Well, I’ll ring for the usual, and you can help yourself to whatever you like.

I’m sure Faith has given you a colorful picture of what I was like as a young man, and she’s not totally inaccurate. I’d had wealth and power and too much education thrown on me far too young, and I thought my blessings made me better than other men. My own father had been the type of man who could be fooled by every silver-tongued charlatan in the land, so I was sensitive and suspicious, determined to never let another man outwit me.

When Faith came to her father’s defense, it was like my entire self came crumbling down. Suddenly, I wasn’t the wise king; I was a cruel and foolish boy—but Faith made me want to be better. That day was the start of my fascination with her, and my courtship started in earnest not long after.

The riddle? Yes, I can see how that would be confusing. Faith tends to skip over the explanations there. A riddle’s an odd proposal, but I thought it was brilliant at the time, and I still think it wasn’t totally wrong-headed. I wasn’t just finding a wife, you see, but a queen. Riddles have a long history in royal courtships. I spent weeks laboring over mine. I had some idea of a symbolic proposal—each element indicating how she’d straddle two worlds to be with me. But more than that, I wanted to see if Faith could move beyond binary thinking—look beyond two opposites to see the third option between. Kings and queens have to do that more often than you’d think…

No, I’m sorry, it is a bit dull, isn’t it? I guess there’s a reason Faith skips over the explanations.

So to return to the point: no matter what Faith tells you, I always intended for her to solve the riddle. I wouldn’t have married her if she hadn’t—but I wouldn’t have asked if I’d had the least doubt she’d succeed. The moment she came up that road was the most ridiculous spectacle you’d ever hope to see, but I had never known such ecstasy. She’d solved every piece of my riddle, in just the way I’d intended. She understood my mind and gained my heart. Oh, it was glorious.

Those first weeks of marriage were glorious, too. You’d think it’d be an adjustment, turning a farmer’s daughter into a queen, but it was like Faith had been born to the role. Manners are just a set of rules, and Faith has a sharp mind for memorization, and it’s not as though we’re a large kingdom or a very formal court. She had a good mind for politics, and was always willing to listen and learn. I was immensely proud of myself for finding and catching the perfect wife.

You’re smarter than I was—you can see where I was going wrong. But back then, I didn’t see a cloud in the sky of our perfect happiness until the storm struck.

It seemed like such a small thing at the time. I was looking over the fields of some nearby villages—farming innovations were my chief interest at the time. There were so many fascinating developments in those days. I’ve an entire shelf full of texts if you’re interested—

The story, yes. My apologies. The offer still stands.

Anyway, I was out in the fields, and it was well past the midday hour. I was starving, and more than a little overheated, so we were on our way to a local inn for a bit of food and rest. Just as I was at my most irritable, these farmers’ wives show up, shrilly demanding judgment in a case of theirs. I’d become known for making those on-the-spot decisions. I’d thought it was an efficient use of government resources—as long as I was out with the people, I could save them the trouble of complicated procedures with the courts—but I’d never regretted taking up the practice as heartily as I did in this moment.

The case was like this: one farmer’s horse had recently given birth, and the foal had wandered away from its mother and onto the neighbor’s property, where it laid down underneath an ox that was at pasture, and the second farmer thought this gave him a right to keep it. There were questions of fences and boundaries and who-owed-who for different trades going back at least a couple of decades—those women were determined to bring every past grievance to light in settling this case.

Well, it didn’t take long for me to lose what little patience I had. I snapped at both women and told them that my decision was that the foal could very well stay where it was.

Not my most reasoned decision, but it wasn’t totally baseless. I had common law going back centuries that supported such a ruling. Possession is nine-tenths of the law and all. It wasn't as though a single foal was worth so much fuss. I went off to my meal and thought that was the end of it.

I’d forgotten all about it by the time I returned to the same village the next week. My man and I were crossing the bridge leading into the town when we found the road covered by a fishing net. An old man sat by the side of the road, shaking and casting the net just as if he were laying it out for a catch.

“What do you think you’re doing, obstructing a public road like this?” I asked him.

The man smiled genially at me and replied, “Fishing, majesty.”

I thought perhaps the man had a touch of sunstroke, so I was really rather kind when I explained to him how impossible it was to catch fish in the roadway.

The man just replied, “It’s no more impossible than an ox giving birth to a foal, majesty.”

He said it like he’d been coached, and it didn’t take long for me to learn that my wife was behind it all. The farmer’s wife who’d lost the foal had come to Faith for help, and my wife had advised the farmer to make the scene I’d described.

Oh, was I livid! Instead of coming to me in private to discuss her concerns about the ruling, Faith had made a public spectacle of me. She encouraged my own subjects to mock me! This was what came of making a farm girl into a queen! She’d live in my house and wear my jewels, and all the time she was laughing up her sleeve at me while she incited my citizens to insurrection! Before long, none of my subjects would respect me. I’d lose my crown, and the kingdom would fall to pieces—

I worked myself into a fine frenzy, thinking such things. At the time, I thought myself perfectly reasonable. I had identified a threat to the kingdom’s stability, and I would deal with it. The moment I came home, I found Faith and declared that the marriage was dissolved. “If you prefer to side with the farmers against your own husband,” I told her, “you can go back to your father’s house and live with them!”

It was quite the tantrum. I’m proud to say I’ve never done anything so shameful since.

To my surprise, Faith took it all silently. None of the fire that she showed in defending her father against me. Faith had this way, back then, where she could look at a man and make him feel like an utter fool. At that moment, she made me feel like a monster. I was already beginning to regret what I was doing, but it was buried under so much anger that I barely realized it, and my pride wouldn’t allow me to back down so easily from another decision.

After I said my piece, Faith quietly asked if she was to leave the palace with nothing.

I couldn’t reverse what I’d decided, but I could soften it a bit.

“You may take one keepsake,” I told her. “Take the one thing you love best from our chambers.”

I thought I was clever to make the stipulation. Knowing Faith, she’d have found some way to move the entire palace and count it as a single item. I had no doubt she’d take the most expensive and inconvenient thing she could, but there was nothing in that set of rooms I couldn’t afford to lose.

Or so I thought. No doubt you’re beginning to see that Faith always gets the upper hand in a battle of wits.

I kept my distance that evening—let myself stew in resentment so I couldn’t regret what I’d done. I kept to my library—not this one, the little one upstairs in our suite—trying to distract myself with all manner of books, and getting frustrated when I found I wanted to share pieces of them with Faith. I was downright relieved when a maid came by with a tea tray. I drank my usual three cups so quickly I barely tasted them—and I passed out atop my desk five minutes later.

Yes, Faith had arranged for the tea—and she’d drugged me!

I came to in the pink light of early dawn, my head feeling like it had been run over by a military caravan. My wits were never as slow as they were that morning. I laid stupidly for what felt like hours, wondering why my bed was so narrow and lumpy, and why the walls of the room were so rough and bare, and why those infernal birds were screaming half an inch from my open window.

By the time I had enough strength to sit up, I could see that I was in the bedroom of a farmer’s cottage. Faith was standing by the window, looking out at the sunrise, wearing the dress she’d worn the first day I met her. Her hair was unbound, tumbling in golden waves all the way to her ankles. My heart leapt at the sight—her hair was one of the wonders of the world in those days, and I was so glad to see her when I felt so ill—until I remembered the events of the previous day, and was too confused and ashamed to have room for any other thoughts or feelings.

“Faith?” I asked. “Why are you here? Where am I?”

“My father’s home,” Faith replied, her eyes downcast—I think it’s the only time in her life she was ever bashful. “You told me I could take the one thing I loved best.”

Can I explain to you how my heart leapt at those words? There had never been a mind or a heart like my wife’s! It was like the moment she’d come to save her father—she made me feel a fool and feel glad for the reminder. I’d made the same mistake both times—let my head get in the way of my heart. She never made that mistake, thank heaven, and it saved us both.

Do you have something you want to add, Faith, darling? Don’t pretend I can’t see you lurking in the stacks and laughing at me! I’ll get as sappy as I like! If you think you can do it better, come out in the open and finish this story properly!

Faith

You tell it so beautifully, my darling fool boy, but if you insist—

I was forever grateful Dinah took that tea to Alistair. I couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen the loophole in his words—I was so afraid he’d see my ploy coming and stop me. But his wits were so blessedly dull that day. It was like outwitting a child.

When at last he came to, I was terrified. He had cast me out because I’d outwitted him, and now here I was again, thinking another clever trick would make everything well.

Fortunately, Alistair was marvelous—saw my meaning in an instant. Sometimes he can be almost clever.

After that, what’s there to tell? We made up our quarrel, and then some. Alistair brought me back to the palace in high honors—it was wonderful, the way he praised me and took so much blame on himself.

(You were really rather too hard on yourself, darling—I’d done more than enough to make any man rightfully angry. Taking you to Father’s house was my chance to apologize.)

Alistair paid the farmer for the loss of his foal, paid for the mending of the fence that had led to the trouble in the first place, and straightened out the legal tangles that had the neighbors at each others’ throats.

After that, things returned much to the way they’d been before, except that Alistair was careful never to think himself into such troubles again. We’ve gotten older, and I hope wiser, and between our quarrels and our reconciliations, we’ve grown into quite the wise pair of lovestruck fools. Take heed from it, whenever you marry—it’s good to have a clever spouse, but make sure you have one who’s willing to be the fool every once in a while.

Trust me. It works out for the best.

#the bookshelf progresses #fairy tale retellings #inklingschallenge #four loves fairy tale challenge #four loves fairy tale challenge 2024 #the farmer's clever daughter #theme: eros #story: complete #this one was *so much fun* #i was grinning throughout the brainstorming process #faith and alistair just *loved* telling me their story #and especially in the first scenes i kept stopping just because i was having so much fun with the lines #maybe it's horribly boring to read but as a writing exercise it was fantastic #i love these two so much #i haven't had this much fun since writing last year's epistolary story

[bellaturner]

Hi! I am loving the writings at the moment! I was wondering if you could write something where reader is dating Alex and also an interviewer and she has to interview him. So its all flirty and if their relationship isn’t public yet Alex constantly nearly gives it away.

I just kinda had the thought and thought it would be cute and I have no time to write atm and honestly you could probably write it better anyway lmao

Alex sat across the sofa from you, and you attempted to maintain a professional demeanor despite the playful tension in the room.

"So, mister Turner," you began, but before you could continue, he playfully interrupted.

"Oh, you sound so sexy calling me 'mister'," he teased with a mischievous grin.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his antics. "Come on, Alex," you said, raising your hands to your face in mock annoyance. "I'm trying to do my job here," you sighed, a hint of amusement in your voice.

"Sorry, babe," he apologize, but moved his hand up your thigh at the same time "I'll behave myself," he promised at the same time he fixed his sunglasses on his face.

"Al, please," you asked, once again, "I'm gonna get fired if you don't cooperate." you were practically begging this time.

"Sure, love," he said, removing his hand from you. "Ask your questions, but i'm gonna fuck you so hard after we get home." he winked at you.

You took a deep breath, attempting to regain your focus. Your boyfriend's flirtatious behavior was undeniably distracting, but you needed to continue the interview professionally. "Ahem," you cleared your throat and made another attempt. "So, Mr. Turner," you said, maintaining direct eye contact, "your band's latest album is titled 'The Car'." You pointed out this fact, well aware of the answer to the upcoming question. "Could you enlighten us on the reason behind that choice?" You asked, attempting to appear genuinely curious, though you suspected you weren't doing a great job of it.

You had been actively involved in the entire album composition process. You'd even assisted Alex, your boyfriend, and the rest of the band in brainstorming some of the song titles. You were aware that certain songs were inspired by your relationship, which added an extra layer of complexity to your professional life.

"Well," Alex began, avoiding direct eye contact with you, "we wanted it to have that perfect 'road trip' sound, you know?" he explained, trying to maintain a casual tone.

"Interesting choice," you responded, a sense of frustration creeping into your voice. You were beginning to feel exasperated with the interview, and you hadn't even reached the halfway point yet.

You decided to press on with the interview, determined to maintain your professionalism despite Alex's distractions. "I see what you mean," you replied, shifting your focus back to the questions. "The album definitely has a vibrant, on-the-road feel to it. Can you tell us more about the creative process behind it?"

Alex leaned back in his seat, appearing more relaxed as he delved into the band's creative journey. He began to share insights into their writing sessions and the stories behind some of the songs. You listened intently, trying to keep the conversation on track.

As the interview continued, you couldn't help but notice the way Alex's foot subtly brushed against your leg under the table. It sent a jolt of excitement through you, but you had to remain composed.

Throughout the interview, Alex managed to toe the line between playful banter and professional discussion. It was both exhilarating and maddening, knowing that he was purposely teasing you while you had to maintain your facade on camera.

As the interview was getting near the end, you couldn't help but exchange a subtle glance with Alex. It was a silent acknowledgment of the playful dance you'd been engaged in throughout the conversation. He smirked ever so slightly, and you knew he was eager to continue this game behind closed doors.

You wrapped up the interview with a final question about the band's upcoming tour, and Alex provided a thoughtful response.

This would be a tough one to edit - the viewers were none the wiser about your romantic involvement - but you were proud of your ability to mostly maintain your professionalism.

Once the cameras stopped rolling, Alex wasted no time. He leaned in closer, his arms trailing your body and his lips dangerously close to your ear. "You were amazing, babe," he whispered huskily, sending shivers down your spine.

"Thanks," you replied, your voice trembling with desire. "Are you taking me home now?" You asked, turning to pack your handbag.

"Oh no, cutie pie, I'm having you bent over the very table you were using to interview me." He said calmed, collected and demanding, getting out of his seat and towering you.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Hihiiii 💕

Felt like doing this one today, it's been long forgotten on my askbox, sorry, my love.

I hope you enjoy it anyway ❤️ (it was wrote while I has high on sleep meds and not prof read)

Lmk if you'd like to be tagged in my posts s2

As always, love you 💕

~ Bella

#nickisfwn 💤 #nickis request 💤 #alex turner one shot #alex turner x reader #alex turner x y/n #alex turner #alex turner fic #alex turner imagine #arctic monkeys #arctic monkeys one shot #one shot #fluff #alex turner x you #fem reader #imagine #arctic monkeys imagine #request #anon #blurb #Alex Turner blurb #Fluff blurb

[hongcherry]

pretty please (stay with me) || c.sc | 1

"After being assigned a fashion show for your big senior project, you set off to find volunteers to make it successful. However, when you meet Choi Seungcheol and his unfriendly clique through your volunteers, you realize they’re an unwanted package deal you can’t escape from. Can you handle Seungcheol's obnoxious friends, and can he handle your brash behavior?"

🍒 Pairing: businessMajor!Seungcheol x fashionMajor!Reader (afab)

🍒 Rating/Genres/AUs: M(18+); Slice of life (!!!), slow burn, drama, fluff, angst; Unrequited enemies to lovers (lol), strangers to lovers, college au

🍒 Warnings: [general tw (won't be repeated in the other chapters)] reader has she/her pronouns (referred to as girl, miss), reader dresses really feminine, reader is not nice, character outfit descriptors, parent/family issues (marital problems), bullying | [chapter tw] “joke” that implies prostitution in a negative way, near car accident (rear end), brief mention of death thru a joke

🍒 WC: 14.8k

🍒 Betas: Huge shout out to my bae, @love-strike, for being with me throughout this whole process, for listening to me whine, for helping me brainstorm majors for OT13, and for being so supportive! tysm 😭 And thank you to @playmetheclassics, @here4kpopfics, @angelwoozi for also beta'ing this series! ty for your time and for your sweet feedback! i really cherish everyone's efforts and brains hehe 🥰💖 i understand this was not an easy task to take on.

🍒 Author's Note: HAPPIEST BIRTHDAY TO THE LOML, CHOI SEUNGCHEOL!!!!!!!!! 🎂♥️ I started this fic in September 2022 and contemplated even publishing it multiple times. I think this will be the first fic I've worked on for so long and published. Also, this is the longest fic I've ever written, so that's exciting! It was supposed to be one long one-shot, but I ended up writing way too much for a one-shot LOL. I'm really proud of myself for powering through and not abandoning it, as I've done in the past. I also wrote this all in past tense and spontaneously decided to change it to present 😪 Anyway, please enjoy the start of this couple's journey 😁

also read here: AO3 | Wattpad

seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

previous chapter \\ series masterpost // next chapter

When people say good students are those who arrive on time, you find it hard not to scoff. Professors should care more about how hard-working one is rather than if they show up on the dot.

Of course, you do try to make it on time, but can you really leave your house looking less than perfect? Absolutely not. Plus, the first fifteen minutes usually consist of professors getting set up for their classes, so you don’t feel like you are missing anything of importance.

Today is no different.

Ten minutes past the official class time, you stroll inside the room. Students are seated where they normally sit, some are on their phones, and others are trying to finish some last-minute homework assignments. It’s a fairly small class, and being in your senior year means everyone knows each other well. Although, most of the people in your class think ill of you and don’t talk to you.

At first, you thought it was a pity, but in the end, you realized you didn’t want to befriend those who would only talk shit behind your back. This is what you figured they did since they were never discreet when they exchanged whispers with their eyes glued to you. 

Luckily, you have at least one friend in the class. Quality over quantity, right?

“Right on time,” your friend, Dae, says with a sly smile when she spots you.

You chuckle and slide into the seat next to her. “Class started fifteen minutes ago.”

“It did, but you’re right on time for you,” she explains with a knowing grin.

“Guess I need to be more late from now on,” you tease as you take out your iPad.

The device is a holy grail to you. Majoring in fashion design means all your ideas and creations over the past few years are stored there. When you don’t have it, it’s stored in secret in your house. Maybe that’s a little excessive, but losing it would feel like losing a part of yourself. After all, art creations always include a part of the creator. The device almost feels like it’s an extension of yourself—something too personal for others to peek at.

Dae rolls her eyes. “Or you could come on time. That would be different.”

“Why would I? The first fifteen minutes are worthless,” you huff and open your notes.

“I wouldn’t quite say that,” Dae answers, sliding a piece of paper over. You glance down at it.

Prepare for the annual Senior Fashion Show! Students are to create their own fashion show with a theme of their choice. The show will be toward the end of the semester in the Main Theatre (official times and dates TBD). The project will count for 80% of your grade as this will require you to use all the skills you’ve acquired as a student. When creating your show, be sure to be mindful of the following…

“This was handed out at the beginning of class. Seems like we’re going to have to work with students from outside our department,” Dae comments after she gives you a few minutes to read everything.

So, this is it.

Every senior majoring in fashion design is required to participate. You attended every fashion show hosted during your time as a student here. You were always left in awe, motivated to be a student that would leave behind a name for themselves at the college. You want to inspire the next seniors just as the ones inspired you before.

While this assignment has your body giddy with excitement, there is a part you are dreading.

People skills are not your forte.

Not because you feel awkward talking to new people, but because the conversations always end unpleasantly. Sometimes with back-handed compliments, insults, or them trying to scold you. You hope that won’t be the case while recruiting volunteers.

“So, do we have the class period to start getting things together?” you question once you finish skimming through the instructions again. You’re responsible for a lot more elements than you anticipated. You need lighting, music, a theme, backstage helpers, hair and makeup artists, an advertiser, and most importantly, models. This is when you wish you had a large network. Though, every friend you tried to make didn’t end up lasting. Dae is the only person who has stuck by your side.

“Yup,” she replies. “We’ll be doing mini assignments throughout the semester to help us prepare. I think it’s just a way for Dr. Lim to give us grades so he doesn’t get in trouble.”

“Probably,” you sigh. You are already feeling stressed. Quickly, you scribble down a list of to-do’s in your notes.

“Do you have a theme in mind already?” Dae asks after a moment.

“No, do you?” you wonder.

Dae sits back in her chair, pen resting between her fingers. “I was thinking about something with space? Maybe my main colors will be blue, purple, and black.”

“Oh? Isn’t that what you’ve been doing, though? Don’t you want to try something different?”

Although the question is harmless, the tone of your voice must have rubbed Dae the wrong way. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and then looks at you again.

“Think of it as branding, okay? Why does it bother you so much?” she wonders with a frown. Realizing your mistake, you inhale slowly.

“It doesn’t. I didn’t mean to sound rude. I’m sure your stage will do well,” you reply, forcing a small smile on your lips.

“No ‘sorry’?” Dae asks despite knowing it isn’t part of your favorite vocabulary.

You narrow your eyes at her. “Nope. Just don’t be so defensive next time.”

“You’re insufferable,” Dae answers. “One day, you will be sorry for your behavior.”

Shrugging, you say, “There’s always a chance, but maybe if the world wasn’t so insecure, saying sorry wouldn’t be so wanted.”

Dae exhales disapprovingly at your thought process, displeased with your reply. “Well, for now, maybe try to be more empathetic?”

“I have bigger things to worry about right now. For instance,” you start, a finger at the top of your to-do list, “I’ve got to find someone who can provide me with music.”

Fuck, it’s too loud in here.

The sounds of different instruments being played at once, all emitting different tunes, have a migraine bubbling in your head.

You make a beeline to the professor who is sitting in the corner. She is an older lady, evident by her wrinkles and gray hair. Yet, her features are soft, and the smile she gives you makes you feel at ease.

“Hello, miss, can I assist you?” she asks when you’re in hearing range.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt, but I was hoping you could help me with an assignment?” you wonder and offer her a kind smile, hoping she won’t shoo you away immediately.

“Ah, it’s alright. They’re just practicing for an upcoming assignment today. What is it you need, dear?”

“Who would you consider your best student? Is there a way you can get me in contact with them?”

The professor’s eyes widen slightly at the question. She didn’t expect that. Nevertheless, her gaze rises to scan the classroom.

“There,” she points as discreetly as she can. You follow her finger, which lands on a blonde-haired guy tuning his guitar. “Lee Jihoon. He’s the most talented student I’ve ever had.”

“This semester?” you ask out of curiosity.

The professor shakes her head. “Ever.”

You can’t stop the small disbelieving huff that escapes you. The best student ever? You aren’t sure how long she’s been teaching, but you doubt out of all her time, he is the best. He looks too young.

“Now, now, don’t judge a book by its cover,” she scolds gently. You have to force yourself not to roll your eyes at the phrase. You’ve heard it too many times that its meaning lost its effect on you.

“What makes him your best student?” you question, sight going back to the man who is oblivious to your stare. He sits next to another student who also has a guitar. They seem to be friends from the way they are laughing together.

“His work is versatile and very good. I’m positive he will be the perfect person for your project.” The way she speaks about him makes you believe her. There was no waver to her voice, and her eyes hold a fondness in them you know one can’t replicate if not genuine.

“How long until they have their assignment due?” you wonder, realizing you may have to wait until the class ends before you could talk to him.

The professor smiles. “I’ll let them have five more minutes so you can introduce yourself.”

Internally, you sigh in relief. You’re grateful you don’t have to wait.

“Thank you,” you say before strolling to the man.

As you near, his friend glances up. He’s mid-sentence when he spots you, eyes growing slightly at the sight of you. You’re used to getting looks like that. Your fashion is always dressier than the average college student's. People just aren’t used to it.

“Hi,” the brunette friend says. He has prince-like features, and you almost consider asking him to be one of your models. You give him a small grin out of politeness before turning to the whole reason you came over.

“Lee Jihoon?” you ask.

Jihoon’s mouth parts slightly in surprise. “Uh, y-yeah. Do I know you?”

“No. My name’s Yn. I have a project in a class and need someone to provide music for me. You won’t get paid, but any extra experience is always good, right?” you greet, not wanting to dance around the subject. After all, this is only the first of many on your to-do list.

“What major are you in?” he wonders, brows knitted in confusion.

“Fashion design,” you answer.

Jihoon is silent for a moment. “And how did you find me?”

This guy is more difficult than you wished. You just need him to say yes.

“I asked for the best student, and you were recommended. So, what do you say? Will you help me?”

Jihoon gives you a small smile, but something about it rubs you wrong. “Sorry, my plate is a little full right now—”

“Do you need money? I can give you some afterward.”

You try not to sound desperate. Lee Jihoon is not the only music major—this is obvious by the amount of noise you hear in the background.

But you never settle for less than the best.

You have been looking forward to this project since your college tour here. 

“It’s not that,” Jihoon chuckles awkwardly. “I have other assignments I have to practice for, but I’m sure there will be someone else to help you. There’s a lot of talented students her—”

“But they’re not the best,” you interrupt. What else can you offer him that will make him say yes?

“Well, being the best is subjective,” Jihoon counters, voice light so you know he doesn’t mean it rudely.

You open your mouth to bargain with him more, but his friend leans into his ear. The noise from the other instruments behind you makes it hard to hear what they are saying.

Patience is something you rarely have. The longer you stand there waiting, the more annoyed you get.

“Look, you have almost a full semester to get a song done by then. I’m sure you can find some tim—”

“Fine,” Jihoon grumbles as he shoves his friend away. “I’ll do it.”

“Oh,” you pause. You are fully prepared to go down the mental list of how helping you will help him in return. One that will be complete bullshit, but if it gets him to say yes, then so be it. Luckily, you don’t have to. 

“Great!” you say.

You aren’t going to give him time to back out, so you quickly retrieve a business card you had made from your purse. It’s easier to exchange contact information, and you never know when you may run into someone important. Being in an artistic field means competition. You always need to have an eye out for something, or someone, that will help you get your name out there.

“Here’s my number. Please contact me before the day ends.”

Jihoon takes the card and examines it. “Got it. What kind of music will you need?”

“I’m not sure yet, but I’ll let you know,” you reply. He nods in response.

“I look forward to hearing your music. I’ll talk to you later then,” you say.

You have half a heart to wish them both luck on their assignment, but part of you is a little petty that Jihoon put you through some trouble. Instead, you give them a wave before turning on your heel.

As you’re leaving, you hear a loud sigh followed by a laugh from behind you. 

“Shut up, Shua,” Jihoon groans before the professor calls everyone’s attention.

Music, check. Now, what’s next?

As you make your way down the hallway, you stumble across Dae. She is surrounded by two other male students, none of whom you know. You don’t plan to greet her since she seems busy, but the sound of your heels clicking against the tile catches her attention.

“Yn!” she calls out cheerfully.

You halt in your tracks, turning to see her smiling at you. She gestures for you to come over, so you do.

“Hey,” you say to her.

“How’s your project going?” she asks.

“I got someone to help me with music,” you reply, then glance behind her to see the two guys staring at you. Dae follows your gaze and makes a small “oh!”

“Is that all? Do you have anyone for advertising or graphics?” Dae wonders, her voice seemingly excited.

“I don’t,” you answer hesitantly. Her eagerness has you worried.

“Perfect!” she exclaims, then turns to the others. “This is Yejun and Jeonghan. They’re both advertising majors. Yejun agreed to help me with my project, but Jeonghan,” she pauses to address the man. He has blonde hair that goes past his eyes. His soft features are handsome and almost angelic. 

“Jeonghan, would you mind helping my friend with hers? She’s super talented.”

Jeonghan glances at you, but before he can say anything, you ask him, “What are your skills? Do you have some work I could see first?”

Jeonghan looks taken aback. “O-oh, I don’t have a portfolio yet, sorry.”

“Ah, that’s fine,” you say before looking at Dae. “Thanks for trying to help me, but I’ll find someone else.”

Dae’s eyes narrow at you. “Come on, Yn. Jeonghan is really good!”

“Didn’t you just meet him?” you question and try to stop the scoff that threatens to escape.

“Well, yes, but Yejun has been my friend for a while, and I’ve seen his work. Yejun and Jeonghan have worked together as well, and their creations are unique!”

You inhale deeply, eyes roaming from your friend to Jeonghan. He offers you a smile.

“What your friend said,” Jeonghan replies with a small chuckle.

“Trust me on this,” Dae says. “Jeonghan won’t disappoint you.”

You don’t feel at ease agreeing to someone blindly. Dae’s definition of “really good” could be different from yours. Although her work is good, you feel your standards are way above hers. You had planned to ask for the best student for each assigned task, so having been offered a random helper with no proof of their credentials is unnerving. 

Granted, you haven’t heard Jihoon’s work, but you were sold on the way the professor spoke about him. Dae, on the other hand, is not a professor and could be biased as Yejun is her friend. Though, you still have a lot more positions to fill, and you need to do so soon.

Sighing, “Fine. You can work with me.”

From the way you word your sentence, it’s almost as if Jeonghan is supposed to jump up and down with glee. He doesn’t.

You grab another business card from your purse and hand it to Jeonghan. He takes it slowly.

“Just so you know, I have the right to replace you with someone else if I see your work isn’t fit,” you warn as Jeonghan slips the card into his pocket.

His eyes lock on yours. “That won’t be necessary,” he answers, not bothered by your comment.

“Oh?” you wonder and quirk an eyebrow up.

“Hm. You also need graphics, right? I have a person for that as well,” Jeonghan says.

“I haven’t seen their work yet—”

“You’re not very trusting, huh?” Jeonghan observes with a laugh. You shift your weight on one hip, not liking the way he is trying to tell you about your personality when he doesn't know you.

“I just know what I want, and I won’t settle,” you answer sharply.

Dae huffs next to you and gives you a gentle shove, indicating you to ease up. That isn’t going to happen.

Jeonghan doesn’t reply and instead takes out his phone. His fingers dance around the screen for a minute before he turns the device for you to see. On the screen is an Instagram account with various posts of different art and graphic pieces. Your eyes drift to the username. by_xuminghao_o. His art is impressive and definitely not an amateur like you half expected.

“So, about not settling,” Jeonghan trails off, a hint of a cocky smirk on his lips.

“I expect you both to contact me before the day ends,” is all you respond with.

Jeonghan pockets his phone and nods. He seems content with your answer even though you don’t confess the art meets your standards.

“All good then?” Dae asks, glancing between you two.

“We’re good,” Jeonghan replies and gives you another smile of his—one you are starting to hate seeing. There is just something about it that seems like he knows more things than you in a cocky, condescending way.

Yejun glances at his watch and then nudges Jeonghan.

“Thanks, ladies, but we have a class to attend. Nice to meet you, Yn,” Yejun says.

You hum in response while turning away from them. Dae says her goodbyes, watching as they leave before putting her focus on you.

“Do you have to be so picky?” she sighs.

“As I said, I know what I want. I’ve waited to do this project for years. It has to be perfect,” you explain and pull out your iPad. You check off music and advertising from your to-do list. Graphics aren’t listed, but you figure it will be a nice addition.

“I understand, but—”

“Just focus on your project, and I’ll focus on mine, okay?” you interrupt. You don’t feel like hearing her lecture you for a second time today.

“Alright,” Dae answers. “I’ll see you around,” she says, walking away before you can say anything else.

With her back turned, you roll your eyes at her attitude. It has your mood lowering, and you conclude you’re done with human interaction for now. You carefully place your iPad back in your bag, then make a beeline to the parking lot, ready to go home to figure out a theme for your show.

Home is somewhere you don’t enjoy being.

It always has this melancholy cloud looming over you. You can never seem to get rid of it completely. Even on the good days, it lingers in the corner of the room, always threatening to float above you. You doubt it will ever dissipate.

Your back is against the headboard of your bed, your iPad resting against your legs that are pulled to your chest. The music playing is too low for your liking, but you know if it’s any louder, your father will scold you for the high volume. Sometimes you will raise it just to get him to talk to you. Though today is not one of those days. You want to be left alone for once, which isn't usually too hard to do unless your sister needs attention. Like now.

“Today is the last day. Pleaseeee, Yn!” your sister whines at the foot of your bed. Her small body is bouncing with desperation and eagerness.

Reluctantly, you flicker your gaze up at her. The slight scowl on your face doesn’t seem to faze her… Probably because she’s seen it so much.

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” you exasperate, gesturing to your iPad.

Seoah frowns. “When are you not? Come on! It’ll take, like, ten minutes. I’ve been looking forward to getting a Fallin’ Flower frap for months! You know it’s a seasonal drink.”

“Didn’t Dad say you couldn’t have any more sweets?” you say and peer down at your iPad again. You’re in the middle of brainstorming themes for your show. There are various words within bubbles, each connected with a line.

“I’ll just get a small,” she explains. When you don’t move, she walks around the bed to stand next to you. Her voice becomes softer, sadder. “You said you would take me. Dad can’t.”

“That was before I got assigned this project. It’s my—”

“Senior project that you’ve been looking forward to since your freshman year, yeah, I got it,” she responds, reciting what you’ve told her before.

You finally look at her once more. “I’ll take you for the next seasonal drinks, okay? They’re probably better anyway.”

“But I really want a Fallin’ Flower,” Seoah pouts.

“Next year,” you offer and return your attention to your homework.

“Yn—”

“Next year,” you repeat firmly without looking up.

Seoah pauses in her begging. You think she’s going to continue, but you hear the soft padding of her feet as she moves.

“Oh, Seoah?” you call out, glancing up.

She pauses by your door and looks up with some hope in her eyes.

“Don’t forget to shut the door all the way.”

“Right,” she mutters slowly, then leaves the room. You wait until you hear the door click close prior to getting back to work.

You sit on your bed the remainder of the day, only getting up to cook dinner for your father and sister. Your eyes feel strained and your body weak, but the sooner you pick a theme, the sooner you can get started. 

It’s days like these when your body is mentally and physically exhausted, that you miss your mom. You try not to think too much about her as it only makes the gloomy cloud above your head darker. 

Is she happier? Surely, she is. She is living her dream as a traveling journalist. Sometimes you will see her adventures if you peep at her social media. It’s self-torture to do so, but curiosity gets the best of you. You hope one day you’ll have the willpower to block all her accounts. 

At this point, you’re having the same conversation you have with yourself once a month. It never ends the way you want.

Inhaling deeply, you finish plating all the food before calling your family for dinner. While your father eats in his office, needing to continue his work, you and your sister eat in silence in the dining room.

Maybe one day things will change, but for now, you’ll have to settle with this.

You are about to knock on the door a second time when no one answers it. You have allotted only an hour for this meeting, so the longer you wait outside, the more you grow impatient. You have set mini-deadlines throughout the semester to ensure you will complete this assignment in a timely manner. You just hope your recruitees aren't going to slow you down.

Suddenly, the door is yanked open. Jeonghan stands on the other side, hair a little damp and a few wet spots on his shirt.

“Sorry about that,” he says hastily. “I thought I could shower quicker.”

“I told you eleven o’clock,” you scold. Jeonghan simply smiles.

“Never hurts to give people some wiggle room. Plus, aren’t you the early one?” Jeonghan leans back to view something. He looks at you after a few seconds. “It’s only three minutes past.”

“Early is on time,” you say as if that is an obvious life choice. Although you’re never really on time for classes, you reason that to be because the first fifteen minutes are a waste of time. This, on the other hand, is not. “Invite me in?”

Jeonghan moves aside and lets you enter. His apartment is tidy for the most part. It seems as if he had started to clean up but gave up toward the end.

“Where’s Minghao?” you wonder when you saw you were the only one here. He’s supposed to be here with Jeonghan, so you can all go over the advertising designs.

“He called and said he hit some traffic. Have a seat anywhere; I’m going to grab my laptop,” he instructs before jogging to another room. Shaking your head in disappointment, you glance around again.

Spotting his couch, you walk over and make yourself comfortable. You take out your iPad and open what you have so far—color ideas, font ideas, and a few mock-up fashion designs. It has been two weeks since you last saw Jeonghan. The majority of your tasks have already been assigned to people, but you still have to find a few more models.

“Alright, so, what’s the theme?” Jeonghan asks when he comes back. He sits down next to you, causing you to bounce slightly from his weight.

You angle your screen, so he can see it easier. “I decided on the four elements—water, ice, air, and earth. The title right now is Pinwheel.”

“This gives us multiple color options,” Jeonghan examines. “Maybe we could have five designs. One for each element and then one with all of them? That would give you a variety of exposure and make the audience feel they’re not looking at the same promo material every time.”

You sit still as you ponder his suggestion. “You don’t think people will get confused seeing different designs?”

“We can make it all tie in some way. You have your own logo, as I saw on your card. We can use that and the same fonts.”

“Okay,” you say slowly. “That sounds—”

A knock on the door stops you.

“Ah, that must be Minghao. Do you mind getting that? I’m going to get my notepad, so I can try to sketch some layouts.”

You nod, setting your iPad down next to his laptop, then walking to the entrance.

“You’re late,” you groan while you pull open the door.

“Oh? Am I?” the person says with a little playful smile on his lips.

Although you’ve never met Minghao, you have seen pictures of him on his Instagram. You expected to see a head of blue hair, but you are greeted with black. Instead of a narrow face, his is slightly wider. He wears an oversized white shirt, jeans, and a colorful necklace. He looks like every other college student. Sure, he’s more handsome than the average, but not by much. Behind him are two women and one man.

“Can I help you?” you exhale a disheartened sigh when you conclude it isn’t Minghao. Meaning, he’s even later than you wished for.

The guy chuckles. “I doubt it, but Jeonghan can. Is he here?”

His voice is slightly deep. You may have found him soothing to listen to if it wasn't for his irksome words.

“He’s busy right now. You can come back in an hour, though,” you instruct and start to close the door. You don’t need any distractions.

The man sticks his foot out to stop you, causing you to exhale annoyed when you can’t get rid of him. You open the door slightly again.

“Just tell him I’m here,” he says, his teasing tone not so visible anymore but still light enough to not sound too rude.

“And who are you?” you question apathetically.

“Jesus,” someone hisses behind him before shouting, “Jeonghan, come here!”

Your eyes gaze past the man to see a woman with short-length dark hair. She eyes you haughtily, hand on the man’s forearm as if she were to push him away. Though she never does. She takes in your attire, and you once again get a look of judgment at your choice of dress. Your white dress paired with a same-colored, opened button down and beaded chain around your hips is apparently not her style.

“What’s going on?” Jeonghan asks behind you. Reluctantly, you move aside so he can see. “Oh, Seungcheol! Right. One second. Come on in. I’ll get those papers for you.”

“Actually, do they need to come in? They’re not staying long,” you say quickly before any of them can move.

“Relax, princess, he’s just being friendly. You know, like when someone is kind, thoughtful, and considerate?” the girl questions as if you’re dumb and makes her way inside despite you standing close to the door. It forces you to move over. 

Her friends follow along. Three of them stand in the living room, while the second guy sits at the kitchen bar before pulling out his phone. You watch them with a fire inside your chest. Not only are Jeonghan and Minghao late, you now have to deal with this obstacle.

Just as you’re shutting the door, you see a glimpse of blue down the hall. Finally.

“You’re late,” you repeat, but to the correct person this time.

“I know, I’m sorry! Oh, are they helping too?” Minghao says, pausing at the entry when he sees the group of people inside.

“No. Get in,” you huff and point a finger in the apartment. Minghao enters without a fight.

“Hao!” the second girl exclaims with a smile.

Great. Do they all know each other?

“Hi, Hana,” Minghao greets with a gentle grin.

“What are you doing here?” Hana wonders.

“I’m helping Yn with her project,” he answers and gestures to you while you shut the door.

Hana looks your way, and you can see the distaste in her expression; however, she doesn’t say anything.

Jeonghan walks out of his room with a folder in his hand. “I hope this is what you need,” he tells the first man—Seungcheol, you presume.

Seungcheol smiles and takes it from him. He flips open the folder, doing a quick glance through the papers inside.

“Looks great,” he says. “Thanks for getting these for me.”

“Of course,” Jeonghan replies.

“Hannie, do you want to come to Shining Diamond with us this weekend?” the first girl asks, tilting her head in a way that appears as if she’s begging for a yes.

“Ah, this weekend?” he hesitates. “I have a test on Monday I was going to study for.”

“A few hours won’t hurt you,” she replies.

“Alright, Hajun, but only for an hour or so,” Jeonghan says with a not-so-stern voice.

“Great! Minghao, do you want to come, too?” Hajun asks.

Minghao shrugs. “I’ve got nothing else, so sure.”

Hajun grins widely. Her eyes go past Minghao to see you standing in the corner, your arms crossed and eyes staring daggers at everyone.

She doesn’t say anything, but her look tells you you aren’t invited. As if you are silently begging to join. The thought makes you scoff quietly.

“Cool. You all scheduled your weekends,” you start and walk back to the couch. You turn briefly to Seungcheol, who is eyeing you already. “And you got your things. Can we please continue?”

Your gaze shifts to Jeonghan at your question. He offers you an apologetic look before nodding.

“I’ll see you all this weekend. You can text me the time,” he says while walking to the door.

“We can decide that now,” Hana suggests.

“Or over text like Jeonghan said,” you interject. She narrows her eyes at you.

“Be patient. It’ll only take a few minutes,” she replies.

A few minutes, my ass.

“I’d rather you use those minutes to walk out the door.” You give her a faux smile.

“Have some respect,” Hajun scolds.

You laugh though you don’t find any of this humorous. “What a hypocrite. How about you respect people’s times?”

“I did tell Yn I’d help her,” Jeonghan cuts in sheepishly and opens the door to hint at them to leave. “I’ll text you all later, or you guys can come back in a bit.”

Seungcheol’s gaze lingers on yours as he walks toward the door. Your eyes catch on his as he makes his way into your line of sight. His stare has an unsettling feeling form in your stomach, and you contemplate asking what his problem is. Before you can, he turns to Jeonghan.

“Thanks again,” he says as he lifts the folder.

“No problem. Talk to you later,” Jeonghan replies.

All his friends have filed out except for the one male who hasn’t said a word. He glances at you. You expect to receive another jab about who knows what. Instead, he gestures at your body.

“Nice chains,” he compliments with a smile.

Your eyes widen slightly as you glance down briefly at your outfit. That was certainly unexpected. “Uh, thanks.”

“Come on, Vernon!” Hana yells from the doorway. Vernon gives you a thumbs up, which is uncanny given the situation, then follows his friends out the door.

Once they leave, you narrow your gaze at Jeonghan and Minghao. They’re quick to apologize again and start asking questions about your project before you can lecture them. Lucky for them, your hour is almost up, so there isn't enough time to do that anyway.

Weeks go by with you working nonstop on your project. Annoyingly, you also realize that the majority of the people you recruited to help all know each other. It usually isn’t something to be irritated by, but each time they run into each other, they usually end up making small talk that you have to break up. They can do that on their time, not yours. Even more frustrating is that this so-called Seungcheol and his groupies know them all as well. Their reactions to seeing you are always the same—ones of displeasure. Though the feeling is mutual.

You learn they are all business majors, except for Vernon. Well, he was a business major, but he plans to switch to something else. You can’t blame him. If all the business majors act revolting, you would leave that department as well.

Seungcheol… He isn’t as bad. 

You have only ever hung out with him by himself for less than five minutes. Those conversations spur when you’re both left alone after one of your “mutual friends,” because none of these people are your actual friends, abandon you both. The conversations are awkward and never hold any weight. He doesn’t throw snide remarks at you, but his presence still makes you uneasy with the possibility. You’re normally the first to leave because of that. Maybe if he didn’t have those obnoxious friends, you could tolerate him more. You can’t help but associate him with them though. You simply want to get away from them, even if that includes him. Not that you are craving his presence anyway. You barely know him and aren’t interested in changing that.

“Those are looking awesome so far!” Dae exclaims when she peers over your shoulder to see your sketches.

You smile at her and set your iPad down on the table. The weather outside is perfect, given the cool breezes in the heat. It eases your mind, and you feel more creative being in a new environment.

“Thanks, how are yours coming along?” you question and wait for her to angle her own iPad to you. On the screen are various designs, each with a hint of purple or blue.

“Those are neat,” you compliment.

“Yeah?” she says and beams at you. “What about this one? I think the shoulder looks a little weird.”

You reach over, using two fingers to zoom in on the screen to examine it.

“Maybe just lower this,” you gesture on the screen, careful as to not move the screen on accident. “You could take this part out too and make it asymmetrical.”

Dae hums, lips pursed in thought. “I’ll try it. I guess I won’t really know until it’s on someone.”

You nod in agreement before focusing on your designs again. After a while, Dae excuses herself from your homework session. She had planned to meet with one of her helpers. You bid her a quick goodbye.

Ten minutes pass when you see someone standing in front of your table, blocking your sunlight. Your eyes rise to see who it is.

“Hi,” Seungcheol greets.

You straighten your posture upon seeing him. He wears a basic navy suit that fits him well. To your surprise, it actually looks decent on him. Your eyes dart around him to see if any of his friends came.

“Just me this time,” he answers the question in your head.

“What is it you need?” you ask blankly.

“Must I need something?” he retorts.

You suppress the eye roll you want to give him. “Well, I’m sure you didn’t come here to tell me about your day.”

“I can if you want,” he responds, then to your utter dread, he sits down across from you. From the position he is sitting at, the breeze is blowing his hair forward and into his face. He raises a hand to push it back, but it’s no use.

“You can spare me. Tell me what you want and go,” you instruct. This is the first time he has approached you—and alone, for that matter. You don’t want to make it a regular thing.

“Always straight to the point,” he chuckles.

“I just don’t like my time being wasted,” you explain.

“So, I’m wasting your time now?” His eyebrow quirks up.

“Should I spell it out for you?” you scoff. It should be obvious that you don’t feel like talking to him.

“You can try, but do you know how to spell it?” he stares at you through the hair on his face. Even though you can’t see him clearly, you can tell he has a challenging gleam in his eyes.

“At this point, I think you just came to bother me,” you sulk.

He smirks at you. “I didn’t, but it is a little fun to see your feathers ruffled.”

“They’re perfectly content being unruffled.”

Seungcheol chuckles at your response. He pushes his hair back, but this time he rests his hand against his head, keeping his hair in place. His elbow is propped on the table while his other arm lays flat on the surface. 

All the times you have seen him, his hair has covered part of his forehead. Now, it’s all exposed, and you feel you can see him. Maybe it’s because he’s donning a suit for once, but he looks almost… handsome like this—dressed formally with a small glint in his eyes and his lips spread in a gentle smile.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he replies. “I think you need to have more fun.”

Well, he was handsome until he opened his mouth.

“I don’t need a stranger telling me how to live my life,” you say.

“A stranger? I would think we’re at least acquaintances,” he frowns.

“You only see me because your friends are helping me. Speaking of, is that why you’re here? Does it have anything to do with one of them?”

Seungcheol bites his bottom lip, and you can’t stop your eyes from lowering to his mouth.

“Maybe,” he answers slowly. Your eyes snap back to his when he speaks. He gives you a knowing smile that has you shifting in your seat. You had only looked at his lips because he brought attention to them. Nothing more.

“Are we playing twenty questions?” you groan, finally unleashing the eye roll you have been trying not to do.

“We can,” Seungcheol says with a shrug. “You asked three already—more if you start from the time I sat down.”

Exhaling a deep breath, you put your forehead on the hand that’s propped on the table. The conversation is slowly draining your energy. The need to be alone becomes stronger with each second.

“Seungcheol,” you warn. You are not about to play a guessing game with this man. “Please.”

“Oh, so that word is in your vocabulary.”

“Yes. Would you like me to use it in a sentence?” you question, pitch raised as if you’re talking to a toddler. You lift your head to glare at him.

“Sure,” he smirks and leans forward. He still holds his hair back and this time, you can really see the way he is goading you.

“Please fuck off,” you grin widely. Your head tilts to the side as you push your arms together to act overly cute.

“Please make me,” he counters. The smirk he wears is still plastered on his lips.

“If we weren’t in public, I would,” you say, voice returning to normal as you relax your body—the cute act over.

“Oh? How?” he chuckles. From the way he looks at you, you know his mind has gone elsewhere.

You push at the arm that is stretched across the table. “Because I would rather not get caught for murder, you pervert.”

Seungcheol laughs and sits back, letting his hair fall back into his eyes. It’s the first time you notice he has dimples. Your first impression is that they are cute, but you quickly recall who they belonged to and shove that thought from your mind.

“Seokmin wanted to let you know he lost your card,” he finally discloses. “Asked if you could give him another.”

“If he lost a simple card, is he really reliable?” you sigh as you grab another from your purse.

“The good news is those stage lights are so big, he won’t be able to lose those,” he says, taking the card from your hand.

“Thankfully,” you mutter. “I hope you’re better than Seokmin at not losing things.”

“I’ll get this to him, don’t worry,” he replies and puts the card in his suit jacket. You want to ask why he is wearing that, but that will mean you will prolong this conversation. Fortunately for you, he starts to stand up before you succumb to the temptation.

“Thanks for the talk,” he says as if you had a choice. “I’ll see you around.”

You would have doubted that, but you know that won’t be true.

The second time Seungcheol approaches you by himself is a few days later when he catches you exiting a building he is approaching.

“Don’t tell me someone else lost my card as well,” you say after he calls your name. You readjust your bag on your shoulder as you wait for his response.

“About that,” he starts sheepishly.

You put your weight on one hip and cross your arms, and set your mouth in a straight line. You wait for him to tell you who is the perpetrator.

“I may have left your card in my suit jacket when I washed it.”

Well, that explains why you haven’t received a message from Seokmin yet.

“Seriously, Seungcheol?” you exasperate.

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” he says, lips pouting and eyebrows angled.

Shaking your head, you retrieve another card. You make a mental note to restock later as you are running out.

Seungcheol reaches out to grab it from you, but you quickly pull back.

“Put this in your bag,” you instruct. 

You slowly give him the card and watch as he slings his bag around to his front. He makes a show of unzipping one of the front pockets and sliding it inside.

“Done,” he says, acting like he should be rewarded for doing as he was told.

“Good. Is that all?” you wonder. You’ve just finished your last class of the day, and all you want to do is climb into bed.

“Yes.”

Seeing no need to continue the conversation, you start walking in the direction of the parking lot.

“Great. Bye, Seungcheol,” you say over your shoulder.

“Hey, wait,” he says quickly, walking briskly to be by your side. “We’re going in the same direction.”

You peer up at him momentarily. “That doesn’t mean we have to walk together.”

“You said before we’re strangers. This would help us not be that anymore,” he shrugs casually.

“I never said I wanted that,” you reply flatly.

“It might benefit us since we’ll have to see each other a lot.”

“Is that so?” you sigh sadly.

Seungcheol smiles at you before shoving his hands in his pockets. “You did ask my friends to help you.”

“Well, if I knew you were a package deal, I wouldn’t have.”

“Come on. I’m not that bad.”

Sighing, you slow your steps to look at him better. He stops next to you, awaiting your response. His gaze is hopeful, but you’re not sure why.

“I’ll agree if you leave me alone,” you finally say.

Seungcheol’s lips dip in a frown. “I’ll get you to admit it one day.”

He starts to walk again before you can reply. Now is your chance to let him get a few feet from you. You have the opportunity to finally end this conversation you’ve been dreading. Though, for some strange reason, your feet quickly move on their own accord.

Seungcheol’s steps are small, and you catch up with him easily. Neither of you says a word, but you can see a hint of a smile on his lips.

Instead of parting ways once you reach the parking lot, he follows you to your car. Something about it being dangerous for you to walk to it alone, even though it’s light out.

“Yn?” he says to catch your attention when you open your door. You turn and give a small “hm?” in response.

“My friends and I plan to go to this poetry lounge in two weeks. Would you want to come?” he asks. You aren’t sure why he appears to be anxious.

The shock you feel must be evident on your face because Seungcheol’s apprehensive expression relaxes into a gentle smile.

“Business friends or our ‘mutual ones’?” The idea doesn't sound so bad if you are hanging out with the people who are helping you. Although you have your issues with them, they aren’t that bad to be around if you’re being honest.

“Business.”

That’s not what you want to hear.

“Do your friends know you’re asking me this?”

Seungcheol shakes his head. “No, but I don’t need their permission. What do you say?”

You can’t recall being invited to a night out with someone other than Dae. If you were to go out without Dae, it would be with your family or for a class assignment. To be invited to a place by Seungcheol, out of all people, catches you off guard.

Despite having an opportunity for a different change of pace, you answer, “No.”

“No?” he asks, perplexed.

“Your friends don’t like me, Seungcheol,” you explain matter-of-factly through a sigh, leaning against your open door.

“They just like to tease you. I’ll talk to them before,” he explains. 

Tease is a funny way to describe it, you think.

“I don’t need you fighting my battles,” you answer, referring to the latter part of his reply.

“Still. I want you to enjoy yourself. You’ve probably been glued to that project of yours. Step away for a bit,” he reasons.

He isn’t wrong. Your focus has solely been on the project. Of course, you have other classes, but you aren’t putting as much effort into them as you are this one.

“I’ll pick you up and pay for any expenses,” he offers. The more he talks, the more taken aback you are. You figured he’d drop the offer once you rejected him. From every interaction you’ve had with these “friends,” it never ends well. You doubt this will be any different. Regardless, something in you feels a little… honored he is so adamant about getting you to come.

Thus, hesitantly, “Fine.”

Seungcheol’s face breaks out in a grin. “Okay. I can give you my number, so you can text me your address.”

He starts to pull out his phone, but you stop him.

“No need,” you say. At Seungcheol’s confused expression, you continued with a faint smile, “You have my card.”

His mouth opens briefly in realization before the corners are pulled up.

“One step ahead, I see,” he teases, pulling it out to inspect it as if confirming your number is there. You suppose he may think you’re lying to get out of going.

“I’ll text you then,” he concludes and places the card back.

“Alright,” you say, shifting your weight. You aren’t sure if he wants to say anything else. Why are you giving him the time to? You have already given him enough of it.

Sensing your readiness to leave, he waves as he slowly takes steps backward. “Drive safely, Yn.”

“You too, Seungcheol.”

You climb into your car’s seat, turn on the engine, and watch as he makes his way through the maze of cars until he is out of sight.

That Friday comes sooner than you would’ve liked.

Throughout the times you had met with your “friends,” you had bumped into Seungcheol one-third of the time. Sometimes, you were left alone with him again. Each interaction you had with him became easier the more you talked to him. 

Dare you to admit; his presence wasn’t actually teeth-gritting anymore? At least when he was alone, you didn’t have to deal with his business friends. Despite him not usually laughing at their jokes, he never really stepped in to stop them teasing you at first. Maybe only a few times when he felt things got too heated. He wasn’t your best friend, but part of you did hope he would’ve said something. 

Each time he didn’t, you felt your disappointment rise. He apologized on their behalf constantly, but his apology meant nothing when they kept insulting you. However, lately, he has been stepping in sooner. Although you didn’t want him fighting your battles initially, some things you couldn’t do alone. One thing you and his business friends had in common was that no one really knew where the sudden change of attitude came from. For once, you didn’t complain, though.

You’re tempted to cancel this outing, but talking to Seungcheol a few days ago made you realize he was a little more excited than he was letting on. The reason is unknown to you—maybe he really likes poetry lounges—but you’d feel slightly guilty if you ditch last minute.

It’s not like you haven’t been out on a Friday night with people, yet your heart is beating rapidly in your chest. You have changed about six times, exchanging your accessories with each outfit. Normally, you would dress up more, but these aren’t your friends you’re about to hang out with. They are Seungcheol’s—business majors who think skirts more than two inches above the knees mean you’re a slut. Though, you can’t figure out why that matters. You never dress with the thoughts of others. If you want to wear something that day, even if it’s “over-the-top” for some, you wear it. So, why are you in such a fashion dilemma now?

In the end, you settle for a simple, spaghetti-strapped red dress that is slightly bunched on the sides with strings that are tied in bows. You pair it with a small, heart-shaped purse and white heels. There isn’t any bling in your outfit, which is unusual for you. The accessories you wear are minimal and small. They are a matching cherry set you were gifted by your mother on your 12th birthday. Although it’s been years since you received them, they’re still wearable and delicate enough not to call much attention—unlike some of your other accessories. 

You reach for a white fur jacket only to stop when your fingers graze it. Your eyes travel to yourself in the mirror as you debate on wearing it. The jacket will be too much, you conclude.

The buzzing of your phone catches your attention. It’s Seungcheol telling you he’s five minutes away. After stuffing your phone in your purse, you quickly apply red lipstick and toss it in your purse for later touch-ups.

When your phone buzzes again, you hurry to your front door. Your family is home, and you don’t want Seungcheol to meet them. Life at home isn’t ideal, and the only person who has a hint of what is going on is Dae. You doubt Seungcheol will find that out from one quick meeting, but you don’t want to risk it.

You throw your door open, ready to meet him at his car. Instead, he stands in front of you with a hand raised. He takes a step back in surprise. His eyes glide down your body quickly, but you’re too concerned about your family coming to notice.

“Oh, hey,” he greets. “I was just about to knock.”

Before any of your family can intervene, you close the door and start your way down the porch steps. Seungcheol follows you.

“You didn’t have to. I can make my way to your car by myself,” you answer. Although you’ve never been in his car before, you’ve seen it around. Plus, it’s the only unknown vehicle near your home.

You stand next to the passenger door and wait for him to unlock it, arms wrapped around your body when the chilly weather hits you.

“You sure you don’t want a jacket?” he asks when he notices you didn’t bring one.

“It didn’t go with my outfit,” you explain. It’s a lie. The coat did go with your fit, but you didn’t feel like disclosing the fashion crisis you had gone through.

Seungcheol chuckles. “So, you’re going to freeze instead?”

“It’s not that cold,” you lie again.

“It’ll get colder later, though,” he explains and comes closer to you. You step aside when he is a few inches from you. You press your arms tighter around you, eyes averting from his because of his close proximity. The small distance has you wanting to squirm away, but your feet can’t move. He peers at you with a small smile while he reaches behind you.

“My lady,” he murmurs when he pulls the door open and gestures for you to get inside.

“How chivalrous,” you reply after you force your nervousness away. You carefully slide inside his car, situating yourself comfortably in the seat.

Seungcheol waits to ensure you have all your limbs inside before shutting the door. As he walks around to the other side, your eyes scan his car. The seats are leather, and the interior has higher tech than you thought it would. It is a nice car—not overly luxurious, but enough to show it isn’t cheap. It makes you wonder how much it costs.

“You warm enough?” Seungcheol questions after he gets in and buckles.

“Yeah,” you reply quietly, hands resting awkwardly in your lap. The heat from the vents aids in your goosebumps disappearing.

Your mind is already wondering what to expect tonight. You know his friends aren’t fond of you. At least most of them. That guy, Vernon, seems nice enough. He is the quiet one in the group; however, you did notice he has his own quirks that make him unique. You foresee yourself hanging out with him most tonight. But even then, you don’t feel too great about going.

The longer you sit in Seungcheol’s car, the more you regret agreeing to this.

He stares at you for a moment; brows knitted together slightly. You feel uncanny acting so meek, and Seungcheol can't help but notice.

Silence consumes the small area for a few seconds until Seungcheol says, “Seatbelt.”

You look at him confused, then realize he is talking to you. Of course he is, who else?

“Right,” you mumble, quickly pulling the belt over your body.

“You don’t have to come, you know?” he says with one hand on the steering wheel while the other is on the gear stick.

You sigh and gesture to the road ahead. “Let’s just get going. I’ve got stuff to do after.”

It isn’t completely a lie. You still have to work on bringing your designs to life for the show, but it isn’t like you are behind schedule that you need to do that tonight. You just know you might actually back out if you ponder on leaving more.

Seungcheol bites his bottom lip, averting his focus to the road. He doesn’t reply and obliges to your request by shifting the car into drive.

During the ride, your gaze drifts to Seungcheol. He is relaxed in his seat. One arm stretches to hold the wheel while his other rests on his thigh. One which is clad in a pair of light-washed jeans with a black belt between the jean loops. He wears a white shirt tucked in and a black jacket.

You peer forward slightly to read what his shirt says. Propriety of Balenciaga? The Balenciaga? You don’t think he’s wealthy enough to afford one of those shirts. Perhaps it was a gift or a knock-off brand? Maybe he thrifted it… Though, Seungcheol doesn’t seem like the thrifting type.

“Do you need this?” he asks, breaking you out of your thoughts. He’s holding his jacket open to show you what he means. You must’ve been staring too much.

“No, I’m okay,” you say and turn your attention away quickly. “I just didn’t realize you wore glasses.”

Although the comment is true, you need something to say before he questions why you truly are staring at him. You had noticed the spectacles earlier but didn’t feel like mentioning them.

Seungcheol laughs lightly, “Actually, I don’t. I just thought I’d try to improve my fashion. What do you say, did it work?”

He glances at you after stopping at a traffic light; his mouth quirks up in a teasing smile. You turn toward him and scan his face quickly. They do look good on him, but you aren’t going to tell him that.

“They certainly did something, but whether that effect is good or bad is a secret,” you reply, looking away again.

“I’ll take that as you not wanting to admit they look nice on me,” Seungcheol says and continues driving at the green light.

“I think they’d look better on someone else,” you answer. Though, you don’t believe what you said. Something about the glasses on him has you wanting to stare at him more. They fit his face well and make him appear more attractive. You don’t want to sit on that thought for much longer.

“Is that so? Here,” he says, pulling them off his face. The glasses come into your view, and you stare at him, puzzled. 

When you don’t take them, he adds, “They won’t bite.”

You roll your eyes at his comment and finally grab them from his grasp. You pull down his sun visor to look at yourself. After sliding on the spectacles, you turn your head from side to side to see the different angles.

“I think I was right. They do look better on someone else,” you tease and face him as you shut the visor. Seungcheol turns to you at your reply.

His eyes wander across your face, a hint of a smile appearing on his lips.

“Maybe I’ll have to agree with you this one time,” he says. His stare lingers on yours so much that it has you shifting in your seat. When you avert your gaze, your eyes widen.

“Cheol!” you shout as he was about to rear-end another car. Instinctively, he shoots an arm out across your chest that has your back pressing firmly against the seat. The sudden act causes you to reach up and grab onto his arm tightly.

The car screeches as it comes to a sudden halt. Luckily in time to not hit the other car.

You both sit still, breathing intensified at the near accident. After a few seconds, Seungcheol retracts his arm. It’s then you realize you’re still holding onto him. Your eyes dart to his forearm and frown when you see small crescent shapes indented in his skin.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly.

Seungcheol’s focus is ahead of him but glances at you in confusion at your apology. “What?”

You quickly gesture to his forearm. When he sees the marks, he rubs a hand over them absentmindedly. “It’s fine. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” you reply, heart rate slowing down to normal.

“I’m alright. Sorry. I guess I shouldn’t make you play dress up in the car.”

“No, it was my fault.”

Seungcheol eases on the gas pedal when the light turns green, keeping a safe distance from the car in front. He remains quiet for a while to ensure you are both safe.

“Are you sure you’re okay? First, you apologize, and now something is your fault?” he jokes.

You don’t remember what you said a few minutes ago, so it takes a while for you to comprehend what he is saying. “Shut up,” is all you can respond with in the end.

Seungcheol laughs but doesn’t pester you about it any longer.

“Oh, you can take these back,” you say and tug off the reason for almost hitting another car.

“Thanks,” he mumbles as he slides the glasses back on his face.

You nestle yourself back in the seat again and glance out the window. As the buildings pass, it dawns on you that you’ve never called him Cheol. The thought of using a nickname for him has your body tingle with an unknown feeling. It’s strange. You aren’t the first to call him that, but you aren’t that close to him to start using nicknames. Annoyingly, you spend the remainder of the car ride fretting about how he felt toward you shortening his name. 

Did he even notice? If he did, did he like it? Had you crossed a line?

When he parks, you become acutely aware of everyone’s attire. Many wear jeans or tights with a plain shirt and jacket. A few have on skirts or dresses, but they are more t-shirt dresses or plain skater skirts, if anything. Plus, they are accompanied by tights because of the weather. No one has as much skin showing as you do.

The sinking feeling of not belonging consumes you. You can’t remember the last time you felt this way, and that alone has you questioning yourself even more.

“I’m too dressed for this, aren’t I?” you think out loud.

Seungcheol turns off the car, eyes raking your body again. Though this time, you’re aware of it. You tug down the bottom of your dress at his stare. It’s not like it’s predatory, but it still has your nerves skyrocketing.

“Since when did you care about what others thought of your outfit?” he wonders. The question has you sighing, momentarily closing your eyes as you remind yourself you dress for you, not for others’ approval.

“Right,” you swallow harshly and sling your purse over your shoulder—mentally throwing away the negative thoughts too. “Let’s just go.”

With that, you open his car door and step out.

“Yn wait—” you hear Seungcheol call out right as you shut the door.

Your hair is immediately pushed from your face as the wind blows past. It makes your body shiver, and for a split second, you wish you took up Seungcheol’s offer to grab a jacket when you were at your house.

Seungcheol’s car beeps as it locks before he stands in front of you. His broad body blocks the wind, and you feel your own ease from feeling a tad warmer.

“I’m sorry if that came off rude,” he apologizes softly. “I think you look great.”

You look at him, face void of emotion. You don’t believe him, but you don’t want to argue. At least not standing in this weather. 

“Okay,” you reply. “We need to go meet your friends.”

You take a step forward, thinking it will get him to start walking toward the building, but he doesn’t budge. You only decrease the distance between you two.

“I mean it,” he whispers.

Goosebumps are forming on your exposed skin the longer you stay out. You blame the cold weather for them, but something in your chest tightens at the way Seungcheol is speaking to you.

“I think red is your color,” he pauses. “You should wear it more, Cherry.”

Your head tilts at his last word. “Cherry?”

The corner of his mouth raises at hearing it from your lips. Slowly, he brings a hand to your face. You stand still as you stare at him with wide eyes. His hand brushes past your cheek before he grazes his fingertips along your ear. 

“It suits you,” he murmurs, eyes moving away from yours. 

You follow his gaze and realize he has been looking at your cherry-charmed earrings. His eyes then flicker to the matching cherry-charmed necklace resting below your bare collarbones. You’re not sure if he means the color suits you or if the nickname he just made suits you. Either way, you’re surprised at his words.

Suddenly, the weather doesn't feel as chilly anymore. Your body heats quickly at his comment, or maybe it’s from how close he is to you. Nevertheless, you need to distract yourself from this warm, odd feeling bubbling in your chest.

You clear your throat and step back. His hand lowers steadily.

“I’ll think about it,” you reply more confidently and clearly.

Seungcheol takes the hint and moves aside, hands stuffed in his jeans pockets. He nods his head in the direction of the building, and you start walking toward it. Your pace is slightly faster than his, but you don’t mind not walking next to him. If anything, you need distance from him anyway.

The moment you open the door to the lounge, the heat from inside greets you in full force. You step inside and are welcomed by a worker. He is young, maybe a few years younger than you. He gives you a friendly smile.

“Hi, are you wanting to be seated, or are you with a group already?”

“With a group,” you reply. The worker nods.

“Do you need help locating them?”

You shake your head as the jingle of the door opening sounds behind you. Seungcheol stops behind you. His hand comes to hover over your lower back, not really touching you, but close enough to feel the heat radiate from his hand onto your skin. It has you shuffling away.

“They’re over there,” he says. You peer up to see where he is gesturing. Fair enough, you see his friends at a table toward the back of the building. There are five of them, all smiling at each other. You can spot a few familiar faces—one of them being Vernon. You feel a little at ease knowing he made it here.

“Thanks,” you murmur to the worker before making your way to the table. The closer you get to the table, the slower your steps become. You’re used to keeping your chin high in situations you aren’t completely comfortable in. The whole “fake it until you make it” is on repeat in your head.

Yet the saying is not encouraging you much right now.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?” Seungcheol asks when he catches up to you. You don’t realize you had stopped a few feet from the table.

“No,” you say. You aren’t mad at him; you just need some space from him for now. You don’t like how you aren’t in control of your emotions when you’re around him. “I’m going to freshen up in the bathroom.”

Seungcheol eyes you for a second before nodding. You make your way to the bathroom, but right before you enter, you can hear the welcoming echoes coming from his table of friends. All of them sound cheerful and excited to see him. You don’t expect any of them to look forward to your presence, yet you feel a little disappointed when no one brings up your name—in a positive way.

After using the restroom and washing your hands, you stand in front of the mirror with your hands lingering under the warm water. Your eyes roam your face and body, taking in your appearance. Compared to your normal fashion, you really did dress down. You sigh when you realize you’re circling back to the same issue.

You retract your hands from the faucet and grab a few towels to dry them.

It doesn’t matter if you’re overly dressed. You usually are and don’t care. You look great. You should feel confident in your fit. 

You gently tug the dress down before turning in front of the mirror.

You look fine. You look nice.

As you reapply your lipstick, you keep repeating compliments and reassuring phrases in your head. 

They’re going to look at you funny. You are going to ignore them.

“That’s right,” you sigh to yourself as you toss the lipstick back into your purse. 

Suddenly, your phone starts to vibrate. You pull it out to see Dae’s name appear across the top. You eagerly answer her call.

“Hey babe,” Dae’s voice comes from the other line. “How’s it going?”

“I’m ready to go home,” you say with a small huff.

“Damn, that horrible? Is he treating you badly?” Dae questions. You had told her about Seungcheol’s invitation when you got home that day. She was shocked, but ultimately supportive of you going.

You shake your head despite her not being able to see you. “No, he’s been fine. I just,” you pause. Although you have your ups and downs with Dae, she has stayed with you when no one else has. You don’t disclose your troubles often, wanting people to not see that side of you, but you’re feeling too low that you can’t stop the confession from coming out.

“I’m way overdressed for this place. Everyone’s in jeans or tights. I don’t belong here,” you say.

Dae sighs sadly. “Jeans are boring. I think I only own a pair,” she answers, trying to make you smile. “Just remember, if you were to die right now, would you want your last outfit to be something boring?”

“No,” you answer slowly.

“Exactly. These are people who are used to looking plain. They’re probably jealous you’re outdressing them. Don’t let them get to you, Yn. I’m sure you look beautiful.”

Your shoulders ease at her words. “Thanks, Dae.”

“No need. If they had the talent to dress themselves better, they would.”

You let her words sink in, but the reassurance doesn’t last long.

“I shouldn’t have come,” you say, beginning to pace the small area in the bathroom.

“It’s good for you to be around people from outside our department. It’ll make you more open-minded,” she encourages. “Plus, Seungcheol isn’t as bad as he seemed, huh?”

There is a teasing tone to her voice that you don’t like.

“One outing with him doesn’t mean he’s my friend,” you argue.

Dae giggles. “No, but it’s a start. Do you like him?”

“No!” you answer quickly.

“I was just asking in general. Not ‘like’ as in crushing on him,” she explains nonchalantly, but you can hear her smile.

“He’s,” you pause as you try to think of a word to describe him, “he’s been alright.”

“Well, I better let you get back to him then. I just wanted to check in,” Dae answers.

“Thanks. I appreciate it,” you say.

“Remember, you don’t need their approval. You never have, and you never will. People want the confidence you have.”

“I’m not feeling too confident right now,” you mumble.

“That’s because you’re overthinking. Chin up, okay?”

Sighing, you reply. “Okay.”

“Good. Talk to you later!”

“Yeah,” you say before hanging up.

Taking one last look at yourself, you roll your shoulders back and exit the bathroom.

Seungcheol is sitting in the middle of Hajun and someone you don’t know. His eyes lift to meet yours when he hears the sound of your heels.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks. 

Nodding, your eyes roam for a spot to sit.

“You knew you were just going to a poetry lounge, right? Not the runway,” Hajun comments with a small scoff.

Your eyes move to look at her, and you quirk an eyebrow. She wears leggings with a graphic tee. Her discarded jacket is slung over the back of her chair. “Are you sure you know that, as well? Or did you think you were just going back to your bed?”

“This is how normal people dress,” she replies.

“Relax, Hajun,” a voice you don’t know sounds. You direct your attention to them. 

The guy has black hair that is parted on the side to expose his forehead. His eyes are narrow, and even though he has a soft appearance now, you’re sure his gaze can be fierce when needed. 

“People don’t need to dress up for special occasions,” he says.

You’re taken aback by his comment. Seungcheol’s friends have always questioned your wardrobe, so for this new “friend” to not agree with Hajun is surprising. 

“No, they don’t, but you gotta’ admit she’s a little overdone huh, Soonyoung?” Hajun replies.

“Hajun,” Seungcheol interjects, giving her a pointed look.

“I understand not everyone knows how to dress. It’s okay, though. I can offer my services if you need some help,” you comment, half tempted to reach in your bag to get a business card. Although you aren’t on campus, you never know when you’ll run into someone who will make a good connection, so you keep them with you wherever you go.

“Services?” Hajun laughs and rests her crossed arms on the table. “And what ‘services’ are you offering? Because from the looks of it, I can tell exactly what you offer. Sorry, I’m not interested.”

Her eyes roam your body once more, indicating that the way you are dressed, means your services consist of paying to be with people in bed.

“I don’t think those services would help you anyway. Your rotting attitude is enough to repel anyone. Though I guess some people are willing to lower their standards when they’re desperate,” you counter.

“You’re such a—” she starts.

“Can we talk?” Seungcheol asks Hajun quickly, but he doesn’t give her the option to answer because he takes her hand and pulls her away from the group.

The table is silent for a few seconds before Soonyoung speaks up again.

“Don’t pay any mind to her. It’s nice to meet you. You must be Yn?” He smiles at you, slightly bowing at you.

“Correct,” you say, trying to not show how irritated you feel.

“Come sit,” he offers, pulling up a chair so you’re sat between him and Vernon. You thank him before sitting in the chair. You sit your purse in your lap as conversations begin to spark again.

Their voices become background noise as your gaze drifts to Seungcheol and Hajun in the corner. They stand close to each other and are in a deep conversation—clearly about you. Seungcheol has his back to you, so you can’t see his expression, but you can see Hajun’s. Her lips are in a frown, her expression not as sassy as before. 

Though her pouting seems forced, her bottom lip a little too far stuck out. Soon enough, she rolls her eyes, an expression similar to how it was earlier. Her eyes then move from him to you over his shoulder. When she catches your gaze, she smiles and raises a challenging eyebrow. However, her gaze doesn’t last long because Seungcheol’s hand comes up and guides her eyes back to him. Even though his hand isn’t touching her completely, she leans into his touch. The act has you stilling.

“Yn?” Vernon questions, tearing you from your thoughts. You don’t realize you’re clutching your purse until your focus goes to Vernon. You ease your grip and raise an eyebrow.

“Soonyoung was asking what your major was,” Vernon explains.

“Oh,” you say, glancing around the table. It appears the others are in their own conversation.

You look at the man to your left. He gives you a reassuring smile that tells you he is patient. “I’m studying fashion design. Are you in business, too?”

Soonyoung shakes his head with a laugh. “I could never. I’m a dance major.”

“Wow, that sounds nice,” you say. “Aren’t your career choices limited with that, though?”

“A little,” Soonyoung replies honestly. He doesn’t seem offended by the question. Maybe he gets it a lot. “But it makes me happy. I can always teach or maybe even become a dancer in a well-known group.”

You hum, understanding his words.

“Isn’t fashion design limited, too?” Vernon asks.

“Clothes are everywhere. I can do a lot with it.”

“But not everyone will wear your clothes,” Hana says, having finally heard your discussion.

“There will always be someone,” you argue, confident in your work. It may be a slow start, but you believe in your designs.

She laughs. “Who? Your mother?”

Your eyes narrow at the mention of your mom, and Hana is quick to notice the change in attitude. Instead of letting go of the topic, she continues.

“Ooh, trouble at home? See? I knew the ‘Great Yn’ isn’t as perfect as she seems,” Hana says. What makes her think you are so “great” is unknown to you, but you aren’t surprised to guess people have made up a persona for you. 

“Stop, Hana,” Vernon says, but it has no effect.

“Oh, so we were right?” Hajun’s voice comes from above. You glance up to see she and Seungcheol have returned. It appears their little chat did nothing to keep Hajun from being a bitch.

“Seems so,” Hana says with a smile. “Care to share with the class what kind of mommy issues you have?”

“No wonder she dresses like that,” Doyun, another one of Seungcheol’s alleged friends, adds. “She’s not getting attention at home. I guess Daddy isn’t there either?”

“That’s enough,” Seungcheol scolds them all.

Your eyes are darting from everyone at the table. Their stares are akin to shrink rays, making you feel tiny and minuscule. You know when you aren’t welcomed, and there’s no reason to stay listening to this. You want to snap back, end the conversation with your own last words, but nothing comes to mind.

In lieu, you push your chair back and stand up. Your hands twitch with the temptation to dump their food all over them, but you just want to get out as soon as possible. 

You waste no time careening for the exit. 

Seungcheol calls your name; you ignore it. The worker from before sees you, telling you goodbye, but you couldn't care less and push past the door before he can finish his sentence.

Your breath gets caught in your throat at the sudden breeze that slams into you. Instantly, your arms wrap around you once more. You glance around and see a bus stop down the street. You don’t care that it’s the other way from Seungcheol’s car. You hurry to the station, not sure when the next bus will come.

The bus stop isn’t deserted despite the cold weather. The area must be busy all the time since the sidewalks are littered with more people than you expect. All the seats at the stop are taken, yet you still shuffle under the shelter in hopes to get away from some of the breeze.

You are shaking, and your teeth are chattering. It’s impossible to force your body to stop since you need to generate heat somehow. You probably look like a pathetic naked chihuahua in winter.

You take out your phone, open up a browser, and search for bus times. Thankfully, there’s one coming in three minutes in the direction you need. The thought of taking the bus is not pleasurable. You hate the idea of your skin touching something so many others have touched. It feels unsanitary.

Accidentally leaning back against the wall while you silently groan has you jumping at the cold material touching your bare skin. Your jolt catches the attention of an older woman who is sitting near you.

“Aren’t you freezing, child?” she asks as she stares at your attire—or lack of. 

“I’ll be fine soon,” you say, not really in the mood for talking.

“Where is your coat? Did you not know the weather was going to be cold?” she continues.

Utterly done with all the people-talk tonight, you hiss, “Focus on yourself. I’ll focus on me.”

She seems startled at your outburst. Her already crossed arms tighten as she turns away from you. Her muttered “bitch” doesn’t go unnoticed, but you don’t say anything about it. There’s no point in arguing with a stranger.

The sound of the bus calls your attention, and you mentally thank the universe for the great timing. After people leave and all the new patrons enter, you finally take a step up the bus’ steps. Before you can climb all the way, you hear your name being called. You look past the bus doors to see Seungcheol running toward you.

Just what you need.

You disregard him and step farther up the steps of the bus.

The bus driver looks expectantly at you, and it dawns on you that you need to provide payment before you can board fully.

“Card?” you wonder. The bus driver nods and gestures to a device to the right.

As you unzip your purse, you feel a hand grip your arm.

“Where are you going?” Seungcheol asks, slightly breathless. His hair is disheveled from running, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“Home, idiot,” you huff and pull your arm out of his grasp so you can retrieve your card.

“Just come with me. We can talk somewhere else,” he pleads, a hand stopping your movements again.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, Seungcheol,” you hiss. “Now, let go of me.”

He hesitates but slowly releases your arm. He doesn’t leave, though. “I’ll take you home. You don’t need to take the bus. Come on.”

“Go with him or get on! We have places to be,” a passenger exclaims, clearly annoyed with your drama.

You raise your head to the person, narrowing your eyes in a glare that tells them to pipe down. It has no effect on them. They shoot a fierce look back.

“I know you don’t want to take the bus,” Seungcheol comments quietly.

He’s right. Not only do you not want to sit next to a lady whose arms are filled with shopping bags—the only available seat—you really don’t want to add time to your trip home.

Seungcheol reaches out again and carefully takes your hand in his. This time, you don’t fight him as he guides you off the bus. Once you’re both off, the bus doors shut and begin its trip down the road.

You watch it silently, not knowing Seungcheol is discarding his jacket until you feel the warm material cover your shoulders. Your eyes snap back to him as if remembering who you’re with.

“I’m sorry they said all that stuff. I told them not to do that tonight,” he says remorsefully.

“Oh, so you’ll let them talk shit about me another day?” you chide and start walking away from him. Thankfully for Seungcheol, it’s in the direction of his car.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” he replies as he hurries to catch up, which doesn’t take much effort as you aren’t walking too fast due to your cold, stiff legs.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll do that whenever they want to. They wouldn’t be the first,” you scoff.

“It doesn’t make it right regardless,” he says. You halt in your steps, causing Seungcheol to stop and turn to look at you.

“I talk shit about people behind their backs, too. Does that make me a bad person?” you question. Perhaps if he sees you as one he’ll leave you alone.

He exhales a deep breath. “Let’s just get in the car, okay?”

“You can admit it,” you challenge and walk closer to him. “Does talking shit about someone make me a bad person, Seungcheol?”

He stares down at you, soft gaze turning dark with annoyance.

“To the car, Yn,” he demands slowly just in case you won’t understand; his tone is sharp in a way you haven’t heard before. You don’t let that scare you away. Maybe if you weren’t so fired up, you would have been a little intimidated.

You laugh darkly and roll your eyes at his command. “You want me to sit next? Bark, too?”

“Now, you’re just being dramatic.”

Dramatic, he says.

“Woof?” you reply, dramatically giving him the best puppy-dog eyes you can muster.

Seungcheol’s jaw clenches at your response—not pleased with your sarcasm. However, instead of replying in an annoyed tone, he takes a step forward. His head draws closer to your face to ensure your eyes are glued to his.

“Wanna be a good girl and go to the car, Cherry?” he murmurs lowly, an eyebrow quirking up for a second.

His sudden change in tone has you stiffening. You want to bite back—figuratively or literately… you aren’t sure yet—but you can’t even remember what you are mad about in the first place.

“Hm?” he croons when you don't reply quickly.

Rather than a sarcastic reply, you simply grumble, “whatever,” before pushing past him to get to his car.

You stand next to the passenger side like before, waiting for him to unlock it. Seungcheol comes beside you and swiftly unlocks the vehicle. Although you aren’t arguing at the moment, you can sense some irritation lingering from him.

You get the feeling he'll always hold the door open no matter how annoyed he is with you.

You feel suffocated.

The air in the car is too hot. The weight of his jacket has you overheating. The tension is unbearable.

Seungcheol keeps his eyes on the road, not throwing you a single glance as he drives. Every once in a while he will tighten his hold on the steering wheel. One time you even catch the way his muscles flex at the motion—now exposed from not wearing his jacket. You never realized how fit he is. This isn’t the first time you have seen him sleeveless, but you just never stared long enough to notice. Or if you did, you simply didn’t care. Regardless, you notice now, and you have to force your eyes away before he catches you staring.

You want to ask for music so you don’t have to sit in this insufferable silence, but your mouth feels dry. You decide to just deal with the quietness, shifting in the seat so you’re facing the window more. Your eyes drift close as you let the hum of the car distract you. 

Seungcheol’s jacket is snuggled around you, and his woodsy cologne fills your senses. It’s pleasant, and you don’t mind if you smell more of it in the future.

By the time you arrive home, you are on the verge of sleep. You stumble out of the car and shut the door without saying a word to Seungcheol. You expect him to drive off, but the sound of his tires moving never comes. Instead, you hear his car door opening and closing.

“You don’t have to walk me to the door,” you say while you glance behind you. Seungcheol is following you languidly.

“No, I don’t,” he says and pauses at the bottom of your porch steps. He places a foot on the first step while a hand holds onto the rail. You have your keys out, ready to slide them into the keyhole when you speak.

“Then don’t,” you reply sternly.

He chuckles lowly but doesn’t say anything about it.

“You can go now,” you say when he doesn't move.

“You have something of mine.”

Puzzled, you stare at him for a second. Seungcheol gestures to your body, and you quickly remember you’re wearing his jacket. You tug it off and toss it to him. He grabs it from the air with ease. The loss of heat makes you wish he didn’t say anything.

“Goodnight, Cherry,” he murmurs as soon as you click open your door. You step inside before turning to face him.

The nickname you used earlier forms on your tongue, yet you can’t find the courage to say it consciously.

“Night,” you answer, then shut the door before either of you can say anything else.

With your head bowed, you turn the lock slowly while you exhale deeply. His nickname falls from your lips under your breath—unable to keep the desire at bay.

previous chapter \\ series masterpost // next chapter

A/N: Can't believe the first chapter is actually published 😭 I sat and stared at this for a few before hitting "post" because I'm so anxious! dfl;kbjdvs. Please feel free to share your thoughts on it so far!

For my “shy/silent” readers, I’ve created a feedback form where you can share your thoughts on my fics in a more anonymous and private way. ^-^

taglist: @iammisstora, @christinewithluv, @lithelust, @musingsofananxiouspotato, @yoozuku, @lockburn-castle, @mystikhal-blog, @oncloudvii23 (couldn't tag :c), @cheolcherries (tysm!!!)

©️hongcherry // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

#svt fanfic #svt angst #svt fluff #scoups fanfic #scoups angst #scoups fluff #scoups x reader #svt series #seungcheol fanfic #seungcheol angst #seungcheol fluff #svt slice of life #seungcheol x reader #scoups x you #s coups fluff #s coups angst #s coups fanfic #seventeen fanfic #scoups x y/n #seungcheol x y/n #scoups series #kvanity #kdiarynet

[reidingmelodies]

The Date Jar: February

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!Reader Category: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff Word Count: 3.5k Includes: Mentions and consumption of food, brief discussions of a case (no specifics are given) A/N:  Part of The Date Jar series, but can be read as a stand-alone piece as well :)

Previous Part | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

‘Time to let that inner creativity shine!  Plan a date for $20 or less (and tell me all about it xoxo)’ Your brows wrinkled at the phrase, fingers twirling the yellow popsicle in your hand as you looked out the window.  

It was February 3rd, you were missing Spencer, and your mind was a blank slate when it came to date ideas.

Spencer had been called away on a case eight days prior, his and your moods worsening with every second spent away from the other.  It was a bad one, there was no doubt about it.  It was obvious in the way his voice was tinged with exhaustion each time he managed to call you, in the way he made it a point to text you that he missed you every day regardless of the time, in the way he never answered questions about his day, all too eager to hide the disparity of the case from you to keep you from worrying.

But he was the love of your life- worrying came with the job description.

So, when you got a text from Penelope in the late evening hours warning you that the team was on their way back and Spencer would probably need a little extra loving that night, you didn’t hesitate to drop everything in favor of prepping for your reunion with Spencer.

Cups of tea were made (because even though you knew he’d prefer coffee what he’d really need was chamomile), your softest blankets and comfiest pillows were brought into the living room, and Dr. Who was playing softly on the television in front of you. The lights were dimmed, a pair of pajamas resting on the cushion awaiting his return, two containers of Jell-O situated on the coffee table.

Now, all you needed was his safe return.

Somehow, in your waiting, you had ended up in front of the window, popsicle stick in hand while you thought of ideas for your monthly date.  The task was simple, but the opportunities were endless, and you were stumped.

Spencer had insisted that you pick the date jar stick for February without him present, an idea you were vehemently against until he proposed video chatting once he was back in his hotel room so you could do it together (you really had to thank Penelope for her tech influence on him).  

Sure enough on the night of February 1st, you got a video call at 11:57 PM, your eyes bleary with sleep as you hit accept.  

And all too soon, your eyes were bleary with tears as you caught sight of Spencer’s face.

You missed him, plain and simple.  You were used to spending time apart but being accustomed to something certainly didn’t make it any easier to accept.

The ten-minute chat was the epitome of bliss, both of you purposely avoiding talk of work in favor of brainstorming twenty-dollar dates.

A bookstore?  There’s no way you’d only spend twenty dollars.  The park?  We wouldn’t spend a dime.  A diner? Too typical.  

You knew an idea would come to you sooner than later, especially when Spencer was home and safe in your arms and your brain could rest.  

For now, there was an overworked, exhausted man in dire need of a hug making his way into the apartment, and all thoughts of the date were abandoned in favor of him.

The door opened, Spencer’s slouched figure making his way into the entryway.  The bags under his eyes were prevalent from across the room, his rigid expression making way for a slight grin when he locked eyes with you.

Your legs swiftly carried you home, your arms making their way around his neck as he dropped his satchel in favor of holding your waist.

You stayed like that for what could’ve been five minutes or two hours, all too content swaying to the beat of Spencer’s heartbeat, his lips pressed against your hair.

“Missed you so much,” he murmured, breaking the silence and squeezing you impossibly closer in the process.

“Missed you too, Spence. More than you’ll ever know”.

A lingering kiss was placed on your head in response, Spencer’s arms slightly pulling back as he moved to examine you.  You did the same, taking note of the permanent frown etched on his features.  

“What do you need, baby?” you whispered, hand gently moving to trace his cheek.

“Just you,” he responded, sleep evident in his voice.

You nodded, grabbing his hand and directing him towards the couch.  Wordlessly, you handed him his pajamas and he changed into them right then and there, determinedly unwilling to be without you for the foreseeable future.

He collapsed onto the couch when he was done, forgoing the heap of blankets at the end of the sofa and opening his arms for you instead.  You quickly obliged, your head settling against his chest as his fingers mindlessly traced along your spine.

“It was a rough one,” his voice was low, your ears straining to hear him, “we weren’t able to save the last victim”.

You nodded solemnly, heart instantaneously breaking for the victim, for their family, for the team, for Spencer.  He was telling you as a means of an explanation rather than a means of a conversation, a fact you were well aware of after spending one too many nights like this, your arms wrapped around each other as though you were lifelines unwaveringly keeping the other afloat.

And so, you settled closer to him, head resting against his chest, legs heavily intertwined until his deep breaths filled the entirety of the room.  And when you were convinced he was asleep, at peace, and most importantly safe, you allowed your own eyes to close, your body finally resting serenely for the first time in eight days.

***

You awoke the next morning to a pillow underneath your head where Spencer had previously rested, your body jolting up in fear that he was prematurely called on another case.  But your worries were quickly put to rest at the sound of humming coming from the kitchen, your body filled with a mixture of relief and excitement at the sound.

You rose from your spot on the couch, body stretching in a useless attempt to make away with the aches that accumulated during the night.

It was worth it though. You’d sleep on a pile of rocks for Spencer if the situation called for it.

After your failed attempt, you made your way to the kitchen, eager to see your lover in daylight hours.

His back was to you, his blue flannel pajama pants and oversized white t-shirt looking oh so inviting as you burrowed yourself into his back, his posture instantly relaxed at the feel of your warmth against his.

“Morning, Y/N”.

You smiled into his shirt, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade.  “Morning, Spence.  What are you up to?”

“I figured I’d make you breakfast, but then I remembered I don’t have the greatest track record in the kitchen, so I settled on toast with jam instead,” he shifted his body so you were face to face, your expression lighting up with mirth at the sheepish look he was sporting.

“Mm wise choice, we don’t want a repeat of last time”.

He groaned, remembering how your neighbors called the fire station when they smelled smoke coming from your apartment a few months prior.  He was trying to surprise you with a homemade meal in celebration of your promotion, but instead, you came home to an apologetic Spencer, a concerned neighbor, and a stern firefighter.  Not quite the celebration you were hoping for.

Cheeks still red but desperate to change the subject, his hand found yours in an instant. 

“Thank you for last night, Y/N.  I’m sorry you had to deal with that”.

“Don’t ever apologize, Spencer- that’s what I’m here for.  You’d do the same for me, right?” At his nod you continued, “then it’s settled.  We’re a team- I was just fulfilling my half of the bargain”.

He chuckled, playfully rolling his eyes at you.  “Only you would call our relationship a bargain”.

“Mm well it was the best deal I’ve ever gotten- walked into a museum and came out with a bookmark and a boyfriend!  I mean c’mon Spence, even you have to admit that’s a bargain”.

His lips softly met yours in response, and you watched as he pulled away slightly, leaving your foreheads brushing.  “I love you. And I still feel bad I bought the last copy of the book you wanted that day”.

You closed the gap once more, letting your lips linger for a few seconds, pulling away when the grumble of your stomach interrupted the otherwise quiet room.  “I love you, too, babe.  And don’t feel bad- now that we live together, I can read it every day if I want to.  It was all part of my master plan”.

His eyebrows rose, fingers wiggling in your direction as he moved to tickle your sides.  An uproarious laugh left your lips in response, immediately jumping backwards and retracting your statement.

“Okay, okay I lied! The book was just a bonus”.

He smirked, pulling you against him and letting his fingers dance along your sides for a moment, both of your laughs echoing throughout the room.

The impromptu tickle session was cut short at the sound of your stomach grumbling once again, his newfound mission of making you toast and a cup of coffee taking centerstage.  He released you with a gentle kiss on your forehead, your figure immediately moving to stand by his side.  Your fingers moved along his arm, gently toying with the sleeve of his white t-shirt on the ascent and fiddling with his wrist on the descent.

Toast made and coffee poured in matching ‘I ♡ Vegas!’ mugs, you and Spencer found yourself situated at the kitchen counter, dangling feet bumping into each other at every opportunity.  

His eyes were skimming over his book while yours were tracing the mug closest to you, smiling in recollection at the memory of Diana sending them to you a week after your first visit along with a note saying she wanted to get you something as colorful as the rainbow you saw out her window.

Wait.  That was it.

Your eyes turned to Spencer, taking in the way his white tee shirt hung from his frame.  He had dozens like it in your bedroom, the shirts a trusted go to when he had to pack pajamas in a rushed go bag.  

It wouldn’t hurt to add a pop of color to a few of them.

Penelope said you had to spend $20 or less on a date- and if you used clothes you already had, you were almost positive you could buy tie dye materials and have money to spare.

“What are you thinking about, sweetheart?” his question cuts through your thoughts, your eyes meeting his to find nothing but love.

“You have a lot of white tee shirts”.

With that, love made way for utter confusion.

“Um…yes?”  His brow furrows, watching as you moved the mug into his line of sight before jogging towards the living room.

Your return was marked with his fingers tracing the sides of the mug, every inch of his being determined to figure out what had you so fascinated.

Plopping down next to him, you place the date jar stick next to the coffee, moving your legs until they rested against his calves.

“What if we did tie dye for our February date?”

“With my clothes?”

Your features soften, taking his question as a sign of hesitation.  “Only if you’re okay with it, otherwise we can find some on sale?  Or we can always do something else if this isn’t’-”

You trailed off as his left hand found your cheek, looking up to find his eyes already on you.

“We can use mine, love. I think it’s a great idea, and I wear them to bed anyway so it’s not like anyone really sees them,” he watched as a smile overtook your features before continuing, “we can do some of yours too! And maybe some plain white socks? I think we both have some buried in our drawers”.

“Oh and we can do a pair of your boxers!” you added, positively giddy at the thought.

Spencer, on the other hand, was not.

“My boxers?  Isn’t that weird?”  His lips were pursed, his hands protectively moving to cover his thighs.

You smirked, right hand moving to cover his.  “I don’t think so, it’s not like anyone’s gonna see them besides me, baby- unless Penelope hacks into my photo album again”.

You both shuddered at the thought, heat rushing to your cheeks as you remembered the shrieks she let out the last time she looked through your photos (and the ‘atta boy’s’ Derek graced Spencer with).

You shook your head, willing the memory to a far corner of your mind before squeezing Spencer’s palm.

“So, babe, what do you say? Tie dye for our date?”  You watched as his lips curled into a smile, his teeth swiftly biting his lower lip before he responded.

“Only if you dye a few pairs of your underwear, too”

That was already a given, but he didn’t need to know that.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Spencer”.

***

You went to the store for supplies the following Saturday while Spencer mess proofed your living room floor. $18.65 later, and you were armed with a tie dye kit, two squeeze bottles, pancake mix, and a basic food dye set. The kit only cost $9.99 and sticking with the theme of the day you figured colorful pancakes were the way to go.

Surely, there wouldn’t be another kitchen incident if you were there to help Spencer.

You walked into the door, instantly greeted by a plastic tarp placed on the floor and covered in an assortment of tee shirts, underwear, socks, and pillowcases.  Spencer was amid the pile, face beaming as he placed a white bedsheet on top of the pile.

“I figured we may as well go all out, right?  Go big or go home or something like that?”

You laughed, nodding your head in his direction while you walked into the kitchen.  “That’s the spirit, Spence!”  Pancake supplies placed on the counter, you grabbed the tie dye kit and two glasses of water before taking your rightful seat next to your boyfriend on the floor.

“Ready for this, babe?”

He enthusiastically nodded, inching closer to you to help set up the dyes.  “Mm-hmm.  Did you know that the origin of tie dye traces back to the 6th century, with the first recorded instances taking place during both the T’ang Dynasty and the Nara Period?”

You looked up at him, admiring the way he licked his lips while he awaited your answer, his fingers fiddling with the top of one of the bottles of dye.

God, you were so in love with him and the infinite amount of knowledge he seemed to possess.

“That’s really cool! So, what did they use as their dye?” You questioned, eyes solely focused on your favorite view- his face lighting up every time you asked him to elaborate on one of his fun facts.

“Well, it’s quite interesting, actually,” he began, “they used natural dyes and essences from things like berries, flowers, and leaves”.

You grinned, adding the final bottle of dye to the pile that had accumulated at your feet.  “Maybe next time we can try that method”.

He nodded in agreement, placing a kiss on your forehead before reaching for a tee shirt.

“Okay, so where do we start?”

He observed as you put rubber bands around one of his tee shirts, blotching up the fabric in a series of places to allow the dye to spread.  Pink, purple, and red dye was splashed across the material, your glove covered hands coming in handy as you twisted and folded the shirt with each splash.

Once you were satisfied with the design, you laid it on the corner of the tarp, leaning up to give Spencer a quick kiss on his pursed lips before reaching for the next item.  He followed suit, and together you worked to the sound of giggles, bundles of socks, underwear, and shirts joining the line of finished products.

Taking a break, you watched as he mixed every color on one of his tee shirts, the colors bleeding together until they resembled the color of mud.

“Spencer!” his name came out of your mouth in a breathy huff, your smile uncontained as your hand moved to pick up the material and observe it for yourself.  

Secretly, he knew it looked awful, and he was sure whoever roomed with him on the next case would agree.

But, he also knew he’d do anything to keep that smile on your face- even if it made him the most unfashionable agent in the FBI.

“I for one think it’s gorgeous, Y/N”.

“Everything looks gorgeous on you, babe, so I’ve gotta say I’m inclined to agree”.

All this time together and his cheeks still flushed every time you complimented him.

“Can I ask you something?” The serious tone of his voice was enough to drop the smile off your face, especially when you noticed the wrinkle that had developed between his eyebrows as he awaited your response.

“Anything.  You can always ask me anything, baby”.

He took a deep breath, moving to take one of his gloves off as you mirrored his action.  Uncovered hands clasped together, you squeezed his hand between yours, giving him the time he needed to gather his thoughts.

“Do you- do you think we’ll do this with our kids one day?”  His voice was quiet, and if the room wasn’t as still as it was you would have missed the question.

It was something you had discussed in passing before, midnight pillow talk turned into discussions about future children and Punnett squares as you daydreamed of a life with the pitter patter of little feet.  Children that were made from love and taught to be kind to others, shoot for the stars, and make their mark on the world.  But, this was the first time the discussion breached daytime hours.

You pulled the other glove from your hand, motioning him closer to you as you grasped his cheeks, your eyes fully situated on each other’s.

“There’s nothing I want more, Spencer.  You’re gonna be the greatest dad one day, I just know it”.  He closed the gap between your lips at your statement, his kiss swimming with love, respect, and excitement.

You broke apart when the need to breathe became too strong, resting your forehead against his while your fingers played with the strands of hair resting at the nape of his neck.

“I have something else we can do with our future children in the kitchen, actually,” you began as you stood, leaving the mess of tie dye materials for later, all too eager to get a move on with your plans for the day.

Spencer followed suit, mind swirling with possibilities.  “Is this a good thing to do with our kids or a bad thing?”

You laughed, sneaking a peak over your shoulder at him.  “It’s a good thing!  At least I think it is.  You’ll probably hate it”.

“That’s reassuring”.

You laughed, clutching his hand in yours as you approached the kitchen.  “Ta-da!  I got some stuff to make rainbow pancakes, I figured we can layer the bottles with colors and try to make tie dye pancakes for dinner to stick with the theme”.

“You and I have very different ideas of fun- do you not remember the kitchen incident?” He shook his head with a chuckle, his actions contradicting his words as he gathered bowls to mix pancake mix and dye.

You worked together in the peaceful glow of the afternoon sun, your fingers leaving trails of colorful batter on each other’s faces with a mixture of kisses and belly laughs in between.

He bit his lip in concentration as he worked to make the perfect pile of pancakes, each slightly burnt around the edges and raw in the middle but a massive improvement from having to call the fire department.  His consisted of circles, ovals, and squares while you wrote out ‘I ♡ U’ in a sea of colors, turning the pan towards him so he could see your creation.

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he sealed his words with a kiss, leaning closer as you took the opportunity to let out a confession of your own.

“I can’t wait until the day we tie dye our entire house with our hypothetical children and feed them rainbow pancakes for dinner, Spence”.

A life full of love and a house filled to the brim with happiness- it was all he ever wanted, and in this moment with you, streaks of red pancake batter splattered across both of your cheeks, he knew he was already there.

“I can’t wait either, Y/N”.

Young Spencer Reid would be proud.

***

Permanent Taglist: @calm-and-doctor @reidyoulikeabook @shadyladyperfection @homoose @rigatonireid @singularityjc @rem-ariiana @reblogsoffanfics​ @sapphic-prentiss​ @wheelsup

->Tag not working: @takeyourleap-of-faith

Spencer Taglist:  @averyhotchner @muffin-cup @dayrin085 @spencerreid9

Date Jar Taglist: @rebel-belles​ @saspencereid​ @loveheathens​ @shamelessfangirl-3​ @rexorangecouny​ @anxiousblanketqueen​ @luvofyourlifeliv​ @dayrin085​ @reidemandweep

Link to join my taglist ♡

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #Spencer Reid #spencer reid x y/n #Spencer Reid self insert #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x gn!reader #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds imagine #ash writes #will I regret posting so late?? probably 🤷🏽‍♀️ will I anyway?? YUP

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 12- Whatever It Takes

Summary: This is it, you’re finally going to help save the world and if all goes to plan, bring Bucky back in the process.

Warning: bit o angst

Masterlist

It’s been a solid month since Tony and Rocket have been crafting tirelessly on the construction of the giant time portal machine type deal, or whatever he’s calling it nowadays. And to your great surprise, as well as everyone else’s, the first test run with Clint was an undeniable success.

Compared to the first one with Scott, things have come a long way.

Clint was able to wander around in that alternate universe for a couple minutes without returning with so much as a single scratch. Thus boosting the teams confidence and excitement for the inevitable time heist that’s in the works. So as of now, everyone’s currently brainstorming as to how this will go about for the most successful mission possible.

“Okay, so the how works.” Begins Steve as everyone sits around the large meeting room, glass screens projecting info about the stones displayed in the background, “Now, we gotta figure out the when and where. Almost everyone in this room has had an encounter with at least one of the six Infinity Stones...”

Tony cuts in with his spout of knowledge, “Or substitute the word “encounter” for “damn near been killed” by one of the six Infinity Stones.” Damn straight, your ass got launched into a Wakandian tree last you saw those goddamn stones.

“Well I haven’t..” Interjects Scott with a puzzled look, confusion clear in his voice, “..but I don’t even know what the hell you’re all talking about.” Oh right, he missed out on all the fun while he was fucking around in the quantum realm.

Sitting on the table you shrug, “Be glad you’ve never seen them, those fucking space rocks will kick your ass if used less then kindly, but it doesn’t matter now. From my understanding we only have enough Pym Particles for one round-trip each.” You explain as they all listen intently, “And clearly these fucking stones have been in a lot of different places throughout history.”

Tony nods, “Our history. So, not a lot of convenient spots to just drop in, yeah?”

“Which means we have to pick out targets.” Adds Clint as Tony points in his direction, “Correct.”

Steve soon gains everyone’s attention once again, “So, let’s start with the Aether. Thor, what do you know?” Asks the blonde, all eyes turn towards the back corner of the room to find Thor slouched in an armchair, beer can in hand while the other one keeps partially hidden in his pajama pants.

A dark pair of sunglasses conceals whether he’s currently awake or not. “Is he asleep?” Wonders Natasha as Rodney humorously adds, “No, no. I’m pretty sure he’s dead.”

A few soft chuckles are heard as you listen intently to the god of thunder, “He’s alive, and most definitely sleeping off that last beer.” You muse as they all give a collective curious brow while you simply shrug, “I can hear his heartbeat, and it’s low enough to tell me he’s not dead.....Well, at least not yet.” You mutter, eyeing up the sleeping giant as an idea sparks into your head.

A second later you pick up a discarded empty beer can sitting right next to you on the table before throwing it at the snoozing god, the thin metal smacks against his forehead with that familiar pop of the can sound, falling to the ground with a crackly ting as Thor jolts awake. And back to the land of the living.

“Nordic Santa you’re up.” His head snaps in your direction as he gives a semi-awkward half grin. 

“Ah right, right, thank you angry one.” Points Thor with a genuine smile now as he quickly gets up before walking over to the screen depicting the red swirly like stone substance. Although soon he delves into the finding of the red mass, what it did to his former flame, that he took her to Asgard seeking help for her sickness, how he showed Jane to his mother, and then he immediately got sad and lost all motivation and train of thought on anything related to that stone.

Ah yes, personal trauma. It’ll do that to you.

Later that day when everyone was feasting on some Chinese takeout, Rocket began an in-depth explanation into where the Power Stone was found; by some guy named Quill who stole it from a planet called Morag. After some time later, Nebula revealed that the Soul Stone was retrieved from Vormir, the place where Thanos murdered her sister Gamora.

It’s been an interesting day to day the least.

Now here you are, slouched comfortably in a lounge chair you stole from the other room, flipping around a pocketknife as Natasha and Tony lay on the nearby table with Bruce sprawled out on the floor in all his Banner-Hulkness. Books scattered everywhere as the two Avengers keep comfortable on some decorative couch pillows as you listen to them brainstorm about the stones whereabouts.

Flipping the knife skillfully between your fingers an idea suddenly pops into your head, “Hey what about that time stone guy you were talking about earlier.”

Banner hums, “Doctor Strange.”

“Yeah, what kind of doctor was he?” Wonders Natasha as you mentally question the same proposition when Tony gives his quick witted answer. “Ear-nose-throat meets rabbit-from-hat.”

“Nice place in the Village, though.” Adds Bruce, Tony agreeing in an instant. “Yeah, on Sullivan Street?”

“Mmm....Bleecker Street.” Mutters Banner as Natasha interrupts, face shifting to realization. “Wait, he lived in New York?”

“No, he lived in Toronto.” Sasses Tony as Banner reveals the truth. “Uh, yeah, on Bleecker and Sullivan.”

Tony coming back with more playful sarcasm, “Have you been listening to anything?”

Suddenly it feels like a lights been switched on in your brain, “Guys.” You quickly implore as they keep silent to listen, “If you pick the right year, wouldn’t there be three stones in New York?” Their faces all collectively shift to astonished realization when Bruce quickly sits up to look at you. “Shut the front door.”

“Well at least someone is paying attention.” Quips Tony as Natasha smacks him with a book.

——

“All right.” Begins Steve as the whole team gathers in the meeting room, “We have a plan. Six stones, three teams, one shot.”

You nod, smirking with excitement, “Let’s get these fuckers and maybe end up saving the world while we’re at it.” He sends you a proud grin and within the next half an hour are the eleven of you suited up and standing in a large circle atop the glass of the giant time portal.

“Five years ago, we lost. All of us....we lost friends. We lost family. We lost a part of ourselves. Today, we have a chance to take it all back. You know your teams. You know your missions. Get the stones. Get them back. One round-trip each. No mistakes....no do-overs.”

“Most of us are going somewhere we know. That doesn’t mean we should know what to expect. Be careful. Look out for each other. This is the fight of our lives...and we’re gonna win.” Affirms Steve with a mutual nod, “Whatever it takes.” He gives one last look around the circle of familiar faces before nodding, “Good luck.”

Nudging the muscular blonde, he shares a small smile with you as you quickly return it, “You practice that last night?” Steve chuckles at your amusing comment while Rocket and Scott gush over his admittedly incredible motivational speech skills.

“Just thought the team could use the confidence boost.” Admits Steve as Bruce flicks the motherboards switches to get the time portal up and running. The machine whirs to life while everyone begins putting on their helmets.

Your slightly apprehensive gaze trails to your left where Natasha is standing, she gives a playful smirk as you force a true smile, “See you in a minute.” Chides the red head as you break out into a smirk.

“будь осторожен там Romanoff.” You add, shifting into your natural dialect that she’s all to familiar with, your actual words translating to “be careful out there” as you give her one last flash of a grin.

A hot second later, your body shrinks to the size of an atom as you feel like you’re entire body is free falling out of an airplane in some strange rainbow colored portal that shifts to shimmering diamonds and then finally a blue coral type texture as you find your teams designed route down some swirling tube of blues and bright white lights until at last you land in...

“Holy shit look at this place.” You mutter in absolute awe at the large golden pillars of Asgard, there was no fucking way you were missing out on traveling to this realm. And anyways, Steve kinda made it your task to keep the potbellied god of thunder in check as yourself and Rocket attempt to locate the Reality Stone with Lebowski as your generous tour guide.

Thor smiles fondly, proudly beaming at you with a rare form of happiness as he points towards the large cavernous halls of the royal palace, “Oh this? Yeah, it’s neat isn’t it, I grew up here....played games down this very hallway actually. Me and some friends used to spar one another as children down here with wooden sticks that looked like swor...”

“Thor.” Interrupts Rocket with an annoyed huff, “Remember why we’re actually here.”

You nod in agreement, quickly remembering the current mission, “He’s right. No time to dwell on fond memories, we need to find that stone before anyone sees us. And going by the logic of literally every time traveling movie I’ve ever seen, which admittedly isn’t a lot, but it’s enough that I know no one can see us. Especially you Thor, that would be a big problem for this timeline, so lead the way.”

“Yes, right on that, good point Y/N....okay um...” He looks around for a moment before pointing in the direction of choice, which is down a long spacious hallway, “This way, no ones gonna see us if we go by the dungeons.” Explains Thor as he quickly leads the way down the obnoxiously long hallway that thankfully is decently vacant.

After about five minutes of trekking around the castles interior, Thor guides you and Rocket down a long stairwell of dark grey stone until you reach the bottom floor. There are large basins of fire lighting the way down the lengthy hallway pass, he jogs past a couple golden tinged cells holding a few odd looking prisoners on your way out.

No doubt these fuckers look like they deserve it.

You pay them no mind as Thor hustles silently across the flooring to a door on the far end, though as you’re shuffling past another cell, your eyes land on the green and black clad slender body of a dark haired man laying atop his bed. Face focused towards the white ceiling as he tosses a cylindrical piece of metal in a repeated rhythm only done by that of an incredibly bored individual.

That must be his brother Loki, you draw into conclusion while racing out of sight of the trickster god while Rocket makes haste by your side. Kind of handsome, you think as an unknowing smile finds itself onto your face. God Y/N you truly are a desperate woman. No, just no.

Eventually, Thor leads your little team of three upstairs to some large balcony type area with a grand view of Asgard, the three of you keeping hidden behind one of the multitude of intricately decorated pillars as he eyes up a woman halfway out of a giant door while she accepts some clothing from a maid.

His bearded face lights up in joy as he points a finger towards the brunette woman, “Oh, there’s Jane.” Whispers Thor as she closes the door, the Asgardian maiden leaving and walking elsewhere down another yawning chamber.

“All right.” Starts Rocket as he stands on some ancient rock covered in unknown hieroglyphics before jumping down to face the two of you once the coast is clear, “Here’s the deal tubby. You’re gonna charm her, Y/N’s gonna keep watch, and I’m gonna poke her with this thing..” He shows some strange metal device with three silver prongs sticking out of it, “...and extract the Reality Stone, and get gone lickety-split.”

The optimism off of this creature never fails to astound you.

“Yeah, what he said.” You add with a shrug in Rocket’s direction as Thor sniffs before raising up a finger. “I’ll be right back, okay? The wine cellar is just down here...” Interjects Thor as he slowly begins walking away, clearly ready to abandon his part in the mission, “My father used to have this huge barrel of Aakonian ale. I’ll see if the scullery has a couple of to-go cups.”

“Hey. Hey!” You whisper yell, causing him to stop for the moment, “Aren’t you drunk enough already? Fuck that fancy wine we got better things to do.” You urgently vouch just as some doors loudly open nearby, immediately the three of you hide behind the stone of hieroglyphics and watch as a long haired woman leads the way, a multitude of servants in her wake as she says something about giving books to Loki from the library.

“Who’s the fancy broad?” Wonders Rocket as you raise an intrigued brow at Thor, his eyes never once leave the woman’s as he takes a steady breath, “That’s my mother.” Reveals the disheartened god, a sudden sadness lacing his very words that does not go unnoticed by you, “She dies today.”

Your breath catches in your throat at this sudden tragic news of great loss, you remember when you lost your own mother by the filthy hands of Hydra and how they helped you quickly forget about her. You didn’t have anytime to grieve or even question her sudden disappearance for that matter, “Oh, shit...that’s today.”

You share a nervous look with Rocket as Thor begins taking some deep almost panicked breaths, his emotions all rising together like a swelling storm as his face shifts to an afflicted pain, “I can’t do this. I can’t do this....” Rambles Thor with a shake of his blonde mane, eyes displaying panic, “..I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have come. It’s a bad idea!” Whisper yells Thor as he anxiously shifts from one foot to the other.

“Come here.” Beacons Rocket from his perch on the rock.

“No, no, no...” Deviates Thor as he waves his hands nervously in the air like he’s trying to flick some mud off of them, “I think I’m having a panic attack.” Worries the flushed faced god. 

“Come here. Right here.” Says Rocket as he points to the rock, an increase in irritation shifting the tone of his voice while Thor breaths heavily, clearly not on board with whatever Rocket’s going to tell him.

“No, no, no, guys I can’t...I can’t do this, I’m sorry but I’m not ready, I can’t...” Thwack, Thor yelps in surprise at your intentionally weak assault on his large bicep, “Y/N what was that for?” He half-offendedly demands, brows furrowed in confusion at the flash of anger racing across your sour glare.

“You think you’re the only one who lost people?” You snap as he lowers his head like a beaten dog, “What the fuck do you think we’re doing here? I lost the only person I ever loved, Rocket lost his whole family, gone, just like that.” You affirm with a snap of your fingers.

His face grows conflicted as you suddenly lose your heated aurora, face falling into a frown as you place a comforting hand upon his shoulder, “Thor, I know it hurts that you lost your mom...believe me I get it, but she’s gone. And there are plenty of people who are only kinda gone, and you can help them.”

Thor nods apprehensively as you share a small smile with him, “So if it’s not too much to ask, can you get your shit together for the next however long this is going to take so we can save the world?” 

Rocket chuckles before gaining the both of yours attentions. “Agreed. Now all you gotta do is make schmoopy talk to Pretty Pants and when she’s not looking, suck out the Infinity Stone and help us get our family back. Aight?”

Thor nods once more, face twisting into a saddened pain a he looks down to the floor, “Okay.” Mumbles the god of thunder weakly, face reddening as his eyes get glossy. You let him take a breath as he avoids your gaze at all costs, eyes beginning to water while he tries to play it off.

Giving his shoulder a friendly squeeze, your brows furrow in puzzlement, “Are you crying?”

He shakes his head, some tears slipping despite his verbal protest, “No.” Mutters Thor weakly as his tearful gaze finally picks up to meet you, “Yes..” Squeaks out the teary eyed god while his eyes flicker from the far wall to your face once more, “...Y/N, I feel like I’m losing it. I don’t, I don’t know what I’m doing...I just feel so...shit I don’t know anymore.” Admits the fearful Asgardian as he avoids your softening yet slightly annoyed gaze.

oh, Thor you sad motherfucker. I’ve been there.

Rolling your eyes you gently shake his shoulder for emphasis, “Listen to me you big lion, get your shit together! You can do this. You’re the god of thunder for fucks sake, you can do this Thor.” His face turns into a surprisingly more confident expression as he huffs with a self-assured nod. “I can do this.”

“Yeah...I can do this.” Repeats the Asgardian with a sniffle.

Smirking, you give his arm a friendly smack, “Good. Now let’s do this and get the fuck out of here.” You add before swiftly turning on your heel as you and Rocket lead the way to the door, reaching it, the talking raccoon tugs on your leg before you get a chance to open it. “What is it now?”

“Y/N, we lost him.”

“What?!” Realizing Thor has indeed slipped away and out of sight, you clench your fists in irritation, “Goddammit.” You seethe before looking down at Rocket, “Whatever, we’ll find marshmallow fluff later, let’s just get this stupid rock.”

——

Racing down the palaces golden hallways, your boots thud against the stony ground as Rocket runs on all fours right behind you, “I almost hope they catch you!” You shout in between the yelling of the royal guards as they hastily pursue the two of you down the hallway.

“We got the stone didn’t we!” Snaps Rocket as you pick up your pace. 

“We gotta make it back first you dumbfuck!”

He grumbles something unintelligible before you follow the beer tinged scent of Thor into another room, he’s speaking with his mother when they quickly turn around, “Oh, uh, hello...uh, queen something.” You mutter before Rocket practically smacks into the back of your legs. “I got the thing. Come on. We gotta move.”

Thor nods, speaking some last final heartfelt goodbyes to his mother before abruptly stopping the countdown to three just so he can summon his hammer. After a couple lengthy seconds, Mjolnir falls right into his strong grasp causing Thor to laugh and smile in excitement. “I’m still worthy! I’m still worthy.”

Rocket shares a look with you, “Oh, boy.” Mumbles the raccoon as you simply roll your eyes at the bearded Asgardian prince. A moment later the three of you are sucked into the time portal once again before landing on the glass of the time portal machine.

“Did we get them all?” You hear Steve ask in wonder as you hold your stomach from the jostling ride back.

“I think I’m gonna throw up.” You mutter as Rodney smiles in excitement at everyone around him and the stones in their proximity. “Are you telling me this actually worked?”

Taking a deep breath to steady your turning stomach, all eyes turn to Clint as he suddenly falls to his knees, face a mask of saddened grief that sparks panic in your heart. “Clint, where’s Nat?” Questions Bruce as your face falls.

Not her, not Natasha too.

Standing solemnly on the Facility’s large dock with the teams main Avengers in various places close by, you lean against one of the thin steel beams, a deep frown on your lips while your fingers anxiously play with Bucky’s dog tags around your neck.

“Do we know if she had family?” Questions Tony to no on in particular.

Steve swallows thickly, a couple free tear stains falling down the side of his cheeks, “Yeah. Us.” Mutters the blonde gloomily as you bite your bottom lip to keep from crying again.

“What?” Wonders Thor almost in disbelief as Tony gives him a quizzical look, “Yeah, no, you guys are acting like she’s dead. Why are we acting like she’s dead? We have the stones, right? As long as we have the stones Cap, we can bring her back. Isn’t that right?” Adds Thor, glancing between all of you before facing Tony again, “So, stop this shit. We’re the Avengers. Get it together...”

“Can’t get her back.” Interrupts Clint dismally, eyes still set on the open water beyond the compound.

Thor’s brows furrow in befuddlement, “Wh-what...”

“It can’t be undone. It can’t.” Insists Clint, voice slightly wavering in despair; Thor then starts chuckling at the absurdity of the whole shitty situation before rambling about space magic and that there must be another way. Clint on the other hand quickly gets heated about this and promptly snaps at Thor about some red floaty guy he met who revealed once the Soul Stone is taken, the one sacrificed can never come back. Ever.

Soon things calmed down again, though still a rather gloomy atmosphere still lingers like a persistent hazy fog even after they all left, leaving no one but yourself and Steve on the dock. He keeps a steady gaze on the rippling water as he lets his sadness take its course, this is indeed a heavy blow to bear.

Letting out a shaky breath, you move from the leaning against the beam to instead find a spot next to him on the wooden bench. Dog tags still clutched in your fist as you steal a glance at the tearful man. You’ve admittedly never seen him so upset, well, you both may have shared a good cry when Bucky was whipped from existence five years ago. That was the first time you ever truly bonded with anyone from the team, the first time Steve and Natasha showed you their vulnerability. 

And for that, you’ve formed a stronger bond with them that you’d never thought possible. They welcomed you into the compound like an old friend, always treated you with respect and gave you room when you needed it. And even when you didn’t want to be around anyone, they still forced you into playing cards with them anyways, among other dumb games. Which annoyingly so, is what your sad little self needed back then.

 But without Natasha, without her beaming heart and fierce attitude to keep fighting through the unknown and murky waters, you’re not even sure if this would all still be conceivable. Or if you’d even still be here with all of them for that matter, you might have gone on an angry warpath just as Clint did when everyone he ever loved was snatched from him forever. 

So why, after all this time and pain, is she the one who had to go? It’s not fare. And your heart feels broken all over again; sniffling, you swallow thickly before turning your head a little in Steve’s direction, “I didn’t know her for as long as you guys did.....but she was, really the best of us..” You laugh dismally.

 Voice shaky as you hold Bucky’s tags close to your chest, “..If not better. She was the first Avenger I ever met you know, the only piece of my past that didn’t try to murder me on sight, actually. I liked her. She was who I needed to get me through my grief, among other things huh...and uh...I will miss her.....a lot.”

Nothing is heard except for the low rustling of the nearby trees as a soft wind blows into your faces, Steve clasps his hands together, turning to you, “Funnily enough, it took me some time to completely trust her, but now....there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.” Mutters Steve with the flash of a genuine smile as he thinks fondly on Natasha, who you wish more then anything could still be here to celebrate the hard work of finding those goddamn stones.

It’s not fucking fare.

Swallowing thickly, you nod in agreement as more hot tears trail down your somber face, “The world will owe her their lives and never even know it.....but I will, we all will. Her memory will live on if I can help it, we owe her that much.”

Steve slowly nods, thumbs fiddling together anxiously as he mutters a raspy, “Yeah.”

You rest a comforting hand atop his broad shoulder as he shares a mutually dismal look with you, “We’ve already lost so much already and she fought for this like no once else did, we will avenge her Steve. I don’t doubt she knows it.”

-

Tagged: @diegos-butt @minigranger @bibliophilewednesday @holyhumorliteraturelight @lilacs-lavender @a-girl-who-loves-disney @starkssnarks @vikingqueen28 @bizarrebibitch @atomicpersonacheesecake @jmstz @staygoldsquatchling02 @marvelbros-oneshots @shawnartmendes @mischiefmanaged71 @jckie94  @iamasimpingh0e @mjaudrey  @thescarlettvvitch

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier x y/n #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x you #marvel imagine #marvel x y/n #marvel x you #marvel x reader #the winter soldier #fanfic #fanfiction #the avengers imagine

[fangirlwriting-stories]

These Unprecedented Times

Chapter One

AO3 Link

Chapter Two: Escapism

Janus was not surprised to find five other sides staring at him when he returned to the Mindscape.  He tried to decide what to say for half a second before Virgil got there first.

“What the fuck?”

“Language,” Patton scolded.

“No, seriously, how did you do that?” Virgil asked, stepping forwards.  “What did you do?”

“I… don’t know,” Janus admitted.  “I just felt a tug, and I knew Thomas needed me, so I went to him.”

“Well, can you go back?” Virgil asked.

Janus took a moment to assess the question.  “It feels like it.”

“What do you mean it feels like it?”

“Yes, I would like some clarification as to what that means as well,” Logan said, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know, I just… hang on.”  Janus took a moment and thought about Thomas, and then suddenly he was back in Thomas’ bathroom, where the man in question was brushing his teeth.

Thomas turned to him in surprise.  “Uh, was there something else?”

“No, just testing something.  Carry on,” Janus said, waving as he headed back to the Mindscape again.

No one had moved, and as soon as he appeared everyone went back to staring at him again.

“Yes,” Janus said.  “I can go back.”

There was another moment of stunned silence.

“We can talk to Thomathy now?” Remus exclaimed suddenly.  He started running towards Janus.  “Oh, my turn, my turn!”

“No,” Janus said firmly, catching him by the arms.  “You talk to him when I say you can talk to him.”  Remus pulled out of his grip a second later and ran past him.

“Well, that’s not very fair, kiddo,” Patton said, crossing his arms.  “We should all get a chance to talk to Thomas.”

“And you will,” Janus said.  “Eventually.  But I don’t know if Thomas is ready to meet any of you, and it seems to be up to me.”

“What brings you to that conclusion?” Logan asked.

“The fact that Remus is still here.”

Everyone looked over at Remus, who was currently hanging off the ceiling and trying to bang a hole to Thomas through the wall.

“You know, that’s fair,” Virgil muttered.

“So who are you letting see Thomas?” Patton asked warily.

“Right now, no one.  Everyone needs to go to bed.  We can discuss things tomorrow if you all have points you want to make.”  Patton didn’t look happy with that idea, but Janus didn’t particularly care at the moment.  “I’ll see you all at breakfast tomorrow, goodnight,” Janus said, and he walked away, marking the end of the conversation.

He hung out in his doorway for half a second to confirm that everyone was actually going to bed, and everyone was at least moving that direction.  Except for Virgil, who was moving towards him.  And as soon as Remus noticed him doing that, he hopped down from the ceiling and did the same.

“So… what does this mean?” Virgil asked.

Janus sighed.  “I don’t know,” he admitted.  Virgil and Remus exchanged a glance, and even Remus wasn’t grinning.

“Do you think this is a bad thing?” Virgil asked.

“I don’t think so,” Janus said.  “If Thomas summoned me because he needed me, that doesn’t sound like a bad thing.”

“Oh, he needed you, huh?”

Janus sighed.  “Remus, get your head out of the gutter.”

“Do you think he’ll need me next?”

“Remus.”

“We do get to talk to him soon though, right?” Virgil asked, looking away from Remus.

“You’ll get to talk to him,” Janus said.  “But I don’t know who I’m going to send in next.  I really don’t want to make things worse than they are, and no offense, but I don’t think that makes either of you the right choice.”

“Why not?  I think we both do an excellent job of convincing Thomas that he’s going to get sick with COVID and die,” Remus said with a proud nod.

“Yes, and that’s precisely what I mean, thank you for demonstrating.”

“Yeah, alright,” Virgil muttered, not looking happy.

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” Janus said, nudging his arm.  “I’m not going to fault you for being anxious or hyperfocused.  I just think we might want to send someone else first.”

“Like who?” Remus asked.

“I don’t know yet.  I’m going to figure that out after a long night of sleep.  Which you two should also be doing.”

“Okay, but, here me out…” Remus said, starting to grin.

Janus grew wary, looking up at the ceiling.  “What?”

“Celebratory We-Can-Talk-To-Thomas-Now-For-Some-Reason Sleepover?”

Janus looked at Remus again, bouncing in place.  He sighed.  “Alright.”

Remus cheered, and zipped off to his bedroom to grab his pajamas.

“You think you can manage to get him not to scream all night?” Virgil asked.

“I’ll do my best.”

Virgil hummed in acknowledgement.  “Alright.  I’ll be back,” he said, and wandered off towards his own room.  Janus headed back inside his own and got ready for his room to be a complete mess in the morning.

…

Janus didn’t have a habit of waking up early, but when Remus stayed in his room, he usually got woken up multiple times throughout the night due to snoring, so around 7 Janus gave up and headed for the kitchen.

Patton was already there, making coffee and waffles for everyone.

“Good morning, Patton,” Janus mumbled, rubbing at his eyes as he moved to sit at the table for a moment.  He’d get up and help Patton in a moment.

“Boy, you sound pretty beat,” Patton said.

“Sleepover with Remus and Virgil,” Janus muttered.  “Doesn’t tend to leave one refreshed.”

“Oh boy.  You want some coffee?”

Janus considered the question.  “That would be nice, actually, thank you.”

“Sure thing.”  Patton poured some into a mug and set it in front of Janus, who gratefully took a couple sips.

“So, that was something yesterday, huh?” Patton said.

“Yes,” Janus said, admittedly still a little unable to wrap his head around it.

“What’s Thomas like?” Patton asked, looking over his shoulder.

Janus gave him a curious look.  “You know what Thomas is like.”

“No, I mean… what’s he like with his sides?  Or with just you for now, I guess.”

“I think mostly confused,” Janus said.  “He’s just as surprised as we are that this happened.  Or, actually, probably more surprised, since he didn’t know we existed.”

“Hmm,” Patton said, still looking uncomfortable.  “So… are you gonna let him meet Virgil or Remus first?”

Janus narrowed his eyes.  “Actually,” he said, partly because Patton’s assumption annoyed him and partly because what he was going to say was true.  “I was thinking Roman.”

Patton looked up in surprise.  “What?  Really?”

Janus nodded.  “Virgil and Remus are both hyperfocused on world event stuff right now, which is very much not what Thomas needs.  Logan’s in the same boat with wanting to stay as updated as possible, and you throw him into a guilt spiral every time he tries to think of doing something for himself.”

“Hey,” Patton said, sounding a little offended.  “I’m not—”

“Roman is the only one actually trying to do something constructive,” Janus cut him off.  “As ineffective as trying to come up with video ideas right now has been.  And who knows, maybe Thomas giving him some positive reinforcement will be able to pull him out of his head.”

Roman was the only one who hadn’t had anything at all to say last night, and Janus wasn’t at a loss as to why.  All of the attempts and consequential failures in trying to come up with video ideas couldn’t be doing wonders for Thomas’ ego, and Roman was Thomas’ ego.

Patton was still looking at him strangely at the end of his announcement.  “What?” Janus said.  “I’m going to be putting Thomas first in this, Patton.  Why would you assume I’d do anything different?”

“You’re the one who dragged Remus and Virgil over here,” Patton muttered.  “I figured you had some kind of agenda.”

“Yes, to try and get us all to work together while Thomas was being a mess and refusing to help himself in any way.  I had to try something different.  And it seems to be working,” Janus said, gesturing around.  “I’m not going to make Virgil and Remus and I the priority if it risks ruining that again.  Do you really think that little of me?”

“I don’t—” Patton sighed.  “It’s just surprising, is all.”

“Fine,” Janus said, not really believing that.  “I’m going to go talk to Roman before breakfast.  I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Good luck,” Patton said quietly.  Yeah, everyone knew Roman wasn’t doing too well.

Janus wasn’t expecting an answer immediately when he knocked on Roman’s door, but after a couple minutes he was forced to knock again.

“Roman?” he called.  “Are you still sleeping?”

Finally, the door opened.  “I was,” Roman muttered, rubbing at his eyes.  “Can I help you?”

“Yes, I’d like you to come speak to Thomas today.”

Roman blinked as he seemingly tried to process that.  “Did you introduce everyone else already?” he asked.

“No.  I think you should be the next to speak with him.”

Roman’s eyes widened in sudden panic.  “No, no no,” he said.  “That’s a horrible idea!  I don’t have any ideas prepared.  I don’t have any ideas at all!  I’m not camera ready, I’m not emotionally ready, I— I’m not good enough, Janus!”

“Roman.”  Janus reached out and put his hands on Roman’s shoulders.  “Roman, look at me.”

Roman did.

“You are good enough.  I promise.  I wouldn’t be asking you if I didn’t think you were the best side for this, okay?  I think talking to Thomas will do you both some good.  You could have a brainstorming session, or you could explain what you are, or you could just talk.  This isn’t as high stakes as you think it is.”

Roman stared at him.  “I’m meeting Thomas.”

Janus smiled in amusement.  “Yes.  And he’ll be happy to meet you.”

“He’ll be happy to meet the failure I’ve been lately?”

“Roman.  You are not a failure.  No one thinks you’re a failure.  It’s going to be fine.”  Janus thought for a minute.  “Would it make you feel better if we spend the morning getting you camera ready first?”

Roman brightened.  “Oh, uh, well.  Maybe.”

Janus started smiling again.  “Great.  Then let’s see what we can do in terms of a makeover.”

…

Thomas couldn’t necessarily say he was surprised to see Self-Interest again, but he definitely wasn’t used to it.  The second he appeared next to him Thomas jumped and nearly dropped his bowl of cereal all over himself.

“Hello, Thomas,” Self-Interest said.  “Careful, that bowl has milk in it.”

“I noticed,” Thomas said, setting the bowl down on the table.  “Good morning.”

“Afternoon.”

“Afternoon?” Thomas asked, looking over at the clock on the wall to see yes, it was in fact far past noon.  He sighed and rubbed his eyes.  “Afternoon,” he repeated.

“It’s alright, Thomas, you needed the rest,” Self-Interest said, stepping closer to the table.  “Can I sit?  I need to talk to you.”

“Yeah.  You don’t have to ask me if you can sit, you know.  You’re part of me, right?  Doesn’t that technically make this your house too?”

“Fair enough,” Self-Interest said as he sat down.  “So, yesterday you said you wanted to meet your sides.”

“Yeah, but you said I wasn’t ready for that or something,” Thomas said, taking a bite of his cereal.

“You’re not ready to meet sides such as Anxiety or Intrusive Thoughts.  But if you’d like to talk to a creative side a little more into escapism, that can be arranged.”

“I have an Escapism side?”

“That is technically his current title, yes.  But he actually has many functions.  He is part of your creativity, specifically the part more tended towards escapism, but he’s also your romance and your ego.  He’s, well.”  Self-Interest cleared his throat.  “As I’m sure you can imagine, he’s not doing so well right now.”

Thomas winced.  “Yeah, that… sounds about right,” he muttered.

“I’m not telling you to pity him, I think he would despise that.  But he’s the one who’s been trying to come up with ideas for you, and he already feels awful about not being able to do it.  So just…”

“Don’t be hard on him.  Got it.”

Self-Interest nodded.  “Thank you.  Should I bring him by?”

“Sure.”

Self-Interest nodded again, and sank back down like he’d done yesterday.  Only after he was gone did Thomas look down at himself and realize he kind of looked like a mess.  He’d met Self-Interest by accident yesterday, but now he’d agreed to meet a new side while wearing pajamas and not having brushed his hair, or teeth, or showered in who knows how long.  Before he could focus too long on that, however, Self-Interest and the new side Escapism appeared.

Escapism himself looked modeled off all of the Disney princes Thomas had seen yesterday, though Thomas also picked up on how nervous he looked.  “Oh,” he said.  “Hi, I’m Thomas.”

“I, er, know,” Escapism said.

“Oh, right, yeah, silly me,” Thomas said, shaking his head a little.  “You’re my Escapism?  Wait, why are you so much prettier than Self-Interest?”

Self-Interest sputtered in surprise.  “Excuse me?  Rude.”

Escapism, on the other hand, was now beaming.  “Well, I am based more directly on you, since I’m your ego,” he said with a proud smile.  “And it’s quite easy to work with such fine material.”

Thomas blinked and looked down at himself again.  “Uh… really?”

“Well, okay, you don’t look so great right now, but you clean up exceptionally well if I do say so myself.  Which I do.”  He smiled wider, and seemed in thought for a minute, before he jumped slightly in place.  “You know what, I’ll prove it to you!  It’s your turn for a makeover!”

“Wait, I thought we were going to brainstorm video ideas since you’re part of my creativity—”

“We were, but I absolutely forbid you to go on camera looking like that unless it’s a ‘before’ shot, and also, we can do both!”  He clapped his hands excitedly at the end of the sentence.  “We always think better when we’re moving anyway!”

“You know, that’s a fair point,” Thomas admitted.

“Of course it is!  Now, first of all, the basics.  Go brush your teeth, we need to get them sparkling!  Also, your mouth will feel less gross!”

“…True,” Thomas said.  He stood up.  “Alright, let’s go.”  He shoved a couple more bites of cereal in his mouth and then left the bowl on the table, following Escapism towards his bathroom.  He saw Self-Interest moving to sit on the couch as they did so, looking much more relaxed than he’d been yesterday, and more than a little relieved.  Clearly he thought Escapism knew what he was doing.

Thomas could trust him too, in that case.  Even if he felt a little weird with someone else watching him brush his teeth.

“Excellent,” Escapism said when he finished.  “That is a marked improvement.  Hair next!  And outfits!”

They headed over to Thomas’ bedroom, where Escapism tried to help Thomas style his hair, but since he could only move Thomas’ right hand, it didn’t end up going too well, and they mostly just ended up laughing at themselves.  On the upside, it continued to bring the mood up, and Thomas eventually managed to brush his hair and end with a state that Escapism approved of.  He put on one of his nicer outfits, because sometimes, as Escapism said, you just needed to dress up nice for yourself, and Thomas did like the way he looked when they finished.

“Next!” Escapism called happily when they finished.  “Lighting!”

“Lighting?” Thomas asked.

“Of course!  This house looks downright depressing right now.  We should aim for something brighter and warmer!”

Thomas gave him a curious look.  ��Why?”

“Because if what you see had no impact on how you felt, there would be no point in having entire parts of a crew on lighting alone, now would there?  Or a massive industry in interior design.”

Thomas considered that for a moment, then shrugged.  “Fair enough.”

“We can start with something simple.  Let’s open some windows and turn on some lights around here!”

They ended up doing just that, and Thomas would admit that he did feel somewhat better by the end of it.  By the time they got back to the living room with Self-Interest, Escapism was talking excitedly about how much better that all looked.

“You know, I bet other people could benefit from this kind of thing too!” he said happily.  “What if that’s our next video?  Different ways to care for yourself and make yourself feel better while things aren’t going so great?”

“I’m not sure I have the authority to tell people how to care for themselves right now,” Thomas said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’m surprised you think no one else is struggling, Thomas,” Self-Interest said.  “I’m not saying you should display all of the ways your life is a mess right now on camera, but being open about not doing well might help others feel less alone too.”

“Exactly!” Escapism said.  “And we can add things like makeover tips!  Or maybe not, I don’t know, the idea could take some work, but it’s a start!”

“Yeah,” Thomas said, relieved to both finally have an idea and actually be feeling alright for once.

Escapism summoned a notebook and started scribbling things down, still talking a mile a minute.  He was very… loud.  But not necessarily in a bad way.

The rest of the afternoon had a large feeling of hope to it, and after a while Thomas started to get excited too, and ideas began to bounce back and forth between him and Escapism.  And if this was what came with meeting other sides, Thomas was pretty sure he could label this whole “side” thing as a positive change.

Chapter Three

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #janus sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #my fic

[sideblogforcrimpy-plus]

So I read this prompt on tumblr where you see your soulmate in mirrors and I extended that to reflective surfaces in general for this Ralvez fic that came to me like an epiphany. So. Here’s a lil one.

Title: Reflections (soulmate AU) Words: 1,499 Rated: General. No canon-typical violence but there’s brief mention of Reid’s past traumas

Every day, Spencer tried his best to keep his gaze away from windows, blank screens, even particularly still puddles when he was caught out in the rain. Anything reflective.

The face staring back at him seemed too good to be true. A beautiful complexion with dark hair softening a handsome face, and the kindest eyes Spencer had never actually seen in person. In moments of weakness, he’d rub his thumb and forefinger together before glancing around to make sure no one could see him before taking a look at the reflection staring back at him. It was stupid maybe, to take such care that no one see him, but it felt like a private moment. Like crying in anger and knowing that you’d be taken less seriously; he didn’t need to be seen as ‘mooning over’ his soulmate. He didn’t even know if he’d ever meet him.

He’d seen the way Penelope and Derek’s relationship had gone; they immediately started calling each other pet-names, but their relationship was that of destined friends rather than lovers. Soulmates could mean any sort of relationship; they weren’t inherently romantic. But Spencer wanted his to be. He wondered if Mr Maybe Average Height, Dark, and Handsome would come into his life being the most attractive person Spencer’s ever set his eyes on only to find their soulbond would be like Derek and Garcia, rather than Hotch and Hayley. He also wondered if when Hotch was looking at mirrors if he was missing Hayley’s reflection or agonising over seeing it.

He’d been moving back and forth through the precinct they were holed up in, bouncing between watching Tara interview their unsub through the one-way-mirror with Emily and the rest of the team brainstorming down the hall. Each time he walked up and down that hall, the image of his soulmate walked beside him. It made him feel both hemmed in and comforted.

This stranger had been with him since his teen years. This silent company with lips that seemed always ready to smile. He’d watched as some peach fuzz turned into manicured facial hair and admired the changes. When he was in a good mood, these were the tracks his thoughts moved along. When he was in a bad mood, he anguished over the thought of this voiceless watcher seeing him go through trauma after trauma. He’d wondered too, if this other person had avoided looking at surfaces with just a bit too much shine because of it.

Trudging back down the hall with a list of questions the team had written out for Tara, Spencer paused at one of the windows in the hall. The ever-present image of his soulmate was slightly off-centre, and had a heart-stoppingly warm smile. It made Spencer take in a deep breath, like a weight was lifted off his chest and it could expand properly now. He smiled back, and almost walked away before the image's hand in the window actually lifted as if saying ‘wait. Stay there’.

He did wait for a second before realising it was stupid to follow the command of a reflection. Then realised it was more stupid to think that a reflection could ask him to wait when generally they stay still, at most wearing an expression matching the feelings of the person they’re depicting. That was another topic of ‘bad mood thoughts’ Spencer had sometimes.

These things were still whirring through his mind when a door in the hall beside the window opened, and Spencer’s feet became fixed to the floor. He had the urge to run, to keep distance between this man and himself so that his quiet comfort stayed exactly that. He knew what to expect with it, and the thought of change filled him with fear. But he’d also spent years wanting to push his fingers through dark and curly hair. Wanting more senses to become familiar with the man than just sight. What did he smell like? What was his voice like?

Spencer found with a jolt he was learning what the voice sounded like while quite unprepared.

“-finally see you. This is just- wow, right? I’m Luke, Luke Alvez.”

He already knew the name, because Emily had told everyone that the new team member would have to meet them while they were away on a case. But he never would have guessed-

“Who could have thought we’d meet here? Do you work here?”

“I-I uh, I’m Spencer. Reid, Spencer Reid.” It was then that he noticed Luke had begun to hold his hand out like he was going to shake Spencer’s, and he’d instead slipped it in his pocket.

“Your reputation precedes you, Dr Reid.” His smile made Spencer’s heart feel more present in his chest, and it frustrated him that he couldn’t properly explain the feeling. Like its beating was more deeply felt throughout his body.

“Luke, you said?” He was stalling; he’d take the memory of every moment in this interaction with the man before him to the grave.

“Yeah, Luke. I’d really love to get to know you Spencer, but I’m here on work you know.” The shape of his lips changed to a playful grin and Spencer’s knees felt weak. “Care to show me around, at least?”

-

Spencer had started to think that he’d keep this ‘meeting his soulmate’ business under wraps, maybe break it to the team after they’d gone back home and Spencer had some time with Luke. Those plans were promptly thrown aside when Luke happily exclaimed about how excited he was meeting his soulmate to the team when they enquired about his infectiously high spirits.

Spencer thought he’d feel something, scared, maybe, about this new information being exposed before he could properly process it. But seeing how happy Luke was had the feeling melt away before it really took root.

-

“You know, seeing you through the years has been a rollercoaster ride I did not sign up for.” Luke had taken Spencer out to the middle of nowhere, and the two were laying down on a blanket and looking up at the stars. Having learnt about Spencer’s aversion to the dark, he’d brought two battery powered lanterns and set them down at opposite corners of their blanket.

It wasn’t necessary, given the light from the moon and stars, but the thought left a sweet feeling moving through Spencer’s body.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. A couple years ago seemed the roughest for you though. I don’t want to pry and make you uncomfortable, but if you want to share, or vent, or anything... Well, I’m all ears.”

Spencer squeezed Luke’s hand in his, rubbing his thumb on the side of Luke’s hand as he took a moment to think.

“I don’t mind answering, but it’s not the happiest story. Which you may have guessed, having been able to see me at least a little at the time.”

“I want to learn everything about you Spencer, so that I can love everything about you.” Luke brought their hands up to kiss the back of Spencer’s, unaware of the almost overwhelming feelings Spencer was going through.

They spent the night quietly sharing the bad and the good, the big and the small, from their lives before they met. Luke ended up pulling Spencer closer so that Spencer’s head was on his chest, his arms around the younger man’s body. Only after hours went by and Spencer thought he might fall asleep did Luke make them get back in the car and head home. Luke was renting an apartment he’d picked out before needing to move after transferring from the fugitive taskforce, but he’d spent a lot of his nights at Spencer’s, with Roxy tagging along now more often than not.

Luke took Spencer up and went back to his apartment to pick up Roxy before returning. By the time they were all in bed, the horizon had started brightening. The light seeping in through the edges of the curtain cast the room in a pale glow, showing Spencer curled up in Luke’s arms, and Roxy on a bed Spencer had bought for her at the foot of their own bed.

Now, when Spencer caught himself looking at Luke’s image in windows and mirrors, he took a little extra time to smile back in case Luke was seeing him at the same time. He knew the approximate likelihood was low when he thought of where else Luke could be, but was making up for lost smiles. He’s learned about the concern and pain Luke had felt seeing Spencer through the hardest times, bullying in high school, the loss of loved ones, as well as his abduction and addiction. Now, Luke made a point of telling him things like ‘I saw you smiling today, it felt good. Anything you want to share?’ As well as ‘I was trying to work today and I saw some idiot grinning back at me when my monitor died. Did you plan that?’

Now, Spencer sought out Luke’s image every day.

#Ralvez fic #I could have edited this more but #Well here we are #Criminal Minds fanfic #Spencer Reid/Luke Alvez #This is the closest I've ever gotten to angst and it's bc I'm a lil bitch hope you don't mind but too bad if you do #My Writing #It was legit just gonna be a couple hundred words but when I thought I was gonna stop typing I kept going #Gonna say it was bc of my new keyboard I truly love it

[aces-of-the-center-court]

Hello, thank you for loving the reaction to ex scenario! Since it was our first attempt at scenario, we weren’t sure how well received it would be. But thankfully!! It was very loved. ╥﹏╥ Also, thank you for the request! I hope this would live up to the standard of the previous one. I had a hard time finding inspiration for this… (;´Д｀)

- Mod Raine reaction to ex with sakusa, atsumu & oikawa

Daichi Sawamura:

Hiking up the forested mountain, you made your way to the location for the children’s summer camp that you signed up to volunteer at. Upon arrival, you spotted numerous staff and volunteers scattered around, preparing materials. You approached the person-in-charge to offer your help and was assigned to the game team, where you were met with a familiar face.

“Y/N?”

“Daichi?” You both called out simultaneously.

“You two know each other? Perfect!” Said the person-in-charge, who then instructed, “Then I’ll put you both in charge of free play, okay? Help to brainstorm games that the kids can play during free play. Rest of the team, continue preparations for the treasure hunt.”

With a ‘Roger!’ from the team, the person-in-charge left before the two of you even opened your mouths to protest. Not that either of you would have anyway. You glanced at Daichi and let out an apologetic chuckle, “Let’s do this?” At his smile and nod, the two of you began to discuss and exchange ideas.

When the children arrived in their groups, you and Daichi were conveniently allocated to accompany the same group during their day activities. Paired together for several activities throughout the camp, you and Daichi quickly moved past the awkward stage and started interacting like before – constantly joking around, praising, and teasing one another. With natural chemistry between the two of you, getting along well with the kids earned the both of you a new nickname – ‘Parents Daichi and Y/N’ that promptly became a hot topic among the volunteers and children alike.

Soon, it was time for free play. The volunteers took turns being the tagger for ‘Red Light, Green Light’ and your time came shortly after.

“Green light,” You held on for a while, then concluded rapidly, “red light!” causing some to not be able to pause their actions in time, including Daichi who toppled over when he attempted to slide to a stop. Everyone turned their attention to Daichi and sneered at him for moving so obviously during Red Light, highlighting his movements to you.

Laughing at his misfortune, you gestured for him to come over, “Daichi, you’re caught!” With a small laugh, Daichi surrendered and jogged over. The instant he linked pinkies with you, echoes of bashful giggles and ‘oohs’ followed suit. “Did Daichi-san get caught on purpose to hold hands with Y/N-san?” mocked a cheeky child. Your face reddened while Daichi attempted to justify himself, but the children only continued chaffing him.

The teasing continued into dinner when Daichi gave you some of his potatoes (your favourite food) by habit, and into the next day when he shielded you from the water balloons during the water fight. “Daichi and Y/N are a couple!” soon became an ongoing buzz for the rest of the camp, with everyone pairing you two up repeatedly.

Time flew by quickly and before you realised, it was already the last night of the camp. At the thought of the camp ending, you couldn’t fall asleep. You decided to go for a walk, where you noticed Daichi sitting on the grass by the riverbank. After pondering for a moment, you strolled towards him, “Can I join you?”

Daichi looked up at the sound of your voice. With a soft gaze and warm smile, he set a handkerchief on the grass and motioned for you to sit.

“You know, I didn’t think you’d be here when I applied as a volunteer.” You spoke while settling down.

“Me neither,” Daichi replied and light-heartedly joked, “but I guess fate brought us together, even now.”

Sitting silently, the two of you reflected on your times together during the camp. It was filled with gleeful moments, almost as if time turned back to before your separation. The constant teasing only served to remind you two of those times.

“It’s about to end, huh?” You sighed.

Daichi nodded and asked, as if debriefing, “So, what’s your favourite part of the camp?”

“Probably free play!” You contemplated before answering, “Being in charge of it made me feel more emotionally attached.” then chuckled as you added, “Also, your fall was pretty hilarious.”

Daichi laughed as he recalled his fall. “It seems I fell for you again.” He joked to mask his embarrassment, then fell silent after realising his remark.

Your heart skipped a beat. In case he could hear your beating heart in the awkward silence, you quickly changed the topic, “What about you? What’s your favourite?” A moment of quiet later, Daichi declared, voice deep.

“…I enjoyed every moment with you.”

Surprised, you gaped at his direction. “Y/N,” Daichi voiced with resolve, “I really don’t wish for it to end like this.” He returned your gaze with sincerity.

“Will you give me another chance to be with you again?”

Kuroo Tetsurou:

“Boo!” A voice yelled as a tall figure jumped out abruptly from behind a wall, causing you to jolt in surprise. Rather annoyed and confused by the sudden jump scare, you snapped your head up to spot the face of the culprit. Your irritated expression morphed into one of bewilderment when the face of someone you did not expect came into view, “…Kuroo?”

Pairing a playful smirk with earnest eyes, he teased, “Missed me?” After taking a second to process the situation, you dropped your shoulders in resignation and sighed, “It’s been so long since we last saw each other, and you decide to pop out from nowhere like that?”

He chuckled and apologised, “My bad. I saw you at the mall earlier and wanted to talk to you… but I couldn’t resist the urge for a dramatic introduction.” You shook your head and asked, “So? What did you want to talk about?”

Upon his request to speak somewhere more private, the both of you decided on the benches at the nearby park. Strolling past an advertisement-filled bulletin board, you stopped in your tracks. Back then, the two of you often tried novel activities together, signing up for random classes that you both were new to, from advertisements like those on the bulletin board or online. You scanned the bulletin board, mentally noting the activities the two of you have participated in together before. Kuroo observed your scrutiny and began browsing the bulletin board too.

“Say, we’ve never signed up for couple yoga classes before, did we?” You questioned while peering at the poster. Kuroo followed your gaze to the yoga class poster, “Couple yoga classes?” He contemplated for a while before answering, “Don’t think so.”

As you reminisced the past, a wistful smile formed on your face. “Do you still remember first time we signed up for one of these classes? When we went kayaking?”

“And capsized because you were moving about too much? I don’t think I’ll ever forget that.” He teasingly grinned.

“Hey, it was my first time alright! Sports may not be my thing, but I also recall someone making a crooked vase in pottery class…” It was your turn to tease him. Embarrassed by the recollection of his failed flower vase, Kuroo cleared his throat and defended, “I guess everyone has their strengths and weaknesses…”

At his excuse, you could no longer hold your laughter back at how silly the both of you were being. Following your burst of laugh, Kuroo guffawed as well. Reflecting back on all the activities the two of you did reminded both of you of the times when you two were still together. Nostalgia overcame the two of you and the laughter died down slowly. The fond memories filled both of your minds and now, you both just wished things could go back to how it was before.

Kuroo took another glance at the yoga poster. “Build intimacy and trust while working out with your partner…” He read off the advertisement, “Sound interesting, doesn’t it? Maybe we should try it some time.” He casually suggested, eyes still glued to the poster.

Thinking it was a joke, you laughed and retorted, “Yeah, no. It’s exclusively for couples, see?” You pointed to the subtitles of the poster and continued, “I’m guessing the poses would be too intimate for non-couples. If we go together, they’re going to think we’re dating.”

Kuroo redirected his gaze from the poster to you and positioned himself to lean his back against the board, cocking his head to your direction. “Well, are you dating someone else right now?” He questioned as naturally as he could while attempting to hide the hopes he was holding onto. Averting his gaze, you hesitantly answered, “No… but still–”

“Then why not?”

You blinked before staring blankly at Kuroo, startled by his unexpected reply, “Wha–” But before you could respond, he cut you off again, “Shall we date again?”

You fell silent. Deep inside, you longed for it. You were dying to say ‘yes’ and return to the carefree days when the two of you were together. However, you were unsure if he was joking and did not want to get your hopes high for nothing.

“Stop messing around…” You managed to muster despite your wavering heart. Kuroo pushed himself off the wall and turned your body to face him, prompting you to look at him. “I’m not kidding.” He muttered, eyes softening slightly as he locked gaze with you. With a serious expression, he repeated, “Let’s date again, Y/N. That’s what I wanted to talk about.”

#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x y/n #hq headcanons #hq headcanon #hq scenarios #sawamura daichi #sawamura daichi x reader #daichi x reader #daichi x you #daichi x y/n #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo x y/n #hq x reader #haikyuu!! headcanons #haikyuu!! scenarios #haikyuu!! imagines #haikyuu!! headcanon #haikyuu daichi #haikyuu kuroo #haikyuu!! #hq!!

[yourfaceislikeabluemoon]

You’re Gonna Be the Death of Me, I Swear

Words: 9.7k

Warning: A decent amount of language throughout with the majority in the last scene, kissing (starts out fairly innocent but gets raunchier as the fic progresses), teacher/student roleplay if you squint, Changbin calls Hyunjin pup/puppy, grinding but barely, brief mentions of jacking off, just a hint of angst, crying and apologies, marking/love bites, praise (they both clearly have praise kinks but it’s never explicitly mentioned), brief nipple play/licking/biting, blowjob, frottage (Changbin jerks them off at the same time), lots of dirty talk, Hyunjin has a filthy mouth but is also a whiny baby, cum play/eating, spanking, ass eating, fingering, very brief degradation, barebacking (practice safe sex y’all), cumming inside, and brief innuendos.

A/N: hey, I’m back with another member x member fic! this one is a lot dirtier than the last one oops 🤭 Changjin has been living in my mind rent free this entire comeback so I just had to write something and ‘Kissing Practice’ is one of my favorite tropes and so this filth was born! so yeah, my brain has actually been coming up with ideas lately, which is basically a miracle considering the wasteland it was for 6+ months straight. as always, I hope you enjoy this and please let me know what you think! it really motivates me to write more and I appreciate every single one of you that takes time out of their day to read what I write, thank you so so much! oki enjoy hehe ❤

“Forget it. It’s stupid, I know. Forget I even asked.”

“No, wait!” Changbin called after Hyunjin, who had stood up from his spot on the couch to head off to his room. Hyunjin sighed tiredly and turned back around to face his older groupmate. “Why me?”

Eyebrows knit together, Hyunjin returned to his space next to Changbin. “Why not you?”

Bin let out a broken noise, trying to formulate his words properly, “No, I mean why not Chan or Minho? Why was I the hyung you came to?” When Hyunjin’s expression morphed into that of an abandoned puppy, Changbin held up his hands, “Not that I don’t want to help you! You know I’ll always help you when you ask-- and, and I’m not trying to get out of it or anything. Just, why me? Wouldn’t Chan be better at this sort of thing? I don’t know, seniority or something.”

Hyunjin chuckled at Bin’s babbling, shaking his head as he looked down at his own lap. “First of all, I’m scared of Minho.” Changbin couldn’t hold back his laughter and Hyunjin shrugged but laughed along with him. “Second, everyone but Felix knows Chan’s been pining after Felix for years and I don’t want to feel like a homewrecker even though feelings aren’t attached, you know?”

“Good point. Chan needs to grow a pair, honestly. Like what’s the worst that could happen? Felix giggles at him?” Bin let a rush of air out of his nose at the image that popped into his head before turning back to a grinning Hyunjin who was nodding in agreement.

“Yeah,” the younger continued, “So as you can see, that leaves me with one hyung. You.”

Changbin gave him an unamused look, “So I’m a last resort.”

Hyunjin shook his head again, a faint blush appearing on his cheeks. “No, you’re really not. You’re the one that likes my lips so much. I figured you’d be the one who wouldn’t feel completely tortured if you went along with my proposal. Maybe you wouldn’t mind it. I was probably wrong in assuming that. I’m sorry.”

“You aren’t wrong,” Bin denied adamantly. Realizing how eager he sounded, he quickly calmed himself down and cleared his throat. “Everyone thinks you have nice lips, not just me.”

Leaning a bit closer, Hyunjin lowered his voice, “I think you like them more than the others do, though.”

Changbin gulped but tried to look casual, “Maybe I do.”

“Then, what do you say?” Hyunjin tilted his head and stared at the elder with interest, wide-eyed and waiting.

Bin couldn’t make eye contact. He stared at an empty soda can sitting on the coffee table as thoughts whirled around in his head like a tornado. Should he say ‘yes’? Would he be risking everything he had worked so hard to conceal? Was this bound to end in disaster if he went along with it?

He bit the bullet.

“OK.”

~

The thing is, Hyunjin’s ‘proposal’ wasn’t exactly expected, to say the least. Essentially, Hyunjin had sought out Changbin in order to ask him to be the one to teach the younger how to kiss. He claimed that he had no experience and didn’t know how; he didn’t want to be a total fuck up when the time came around where he needed this particular skill. So, he decided to ask one of his hyungs for help, to teach him, and to help him practice.

Changbin was, quite honestly, flabbergasted. The prettiest human being he had ever had the privilege of observing was telling him that they had no experience and was asking him for lessons in the form of basically making out. There was a teeny tiny red flag that shot up in the back of Changbin’s mind as he processed Hyunjin’s ‘proposal’, but apparently it wasn’t enough of a deterrent to keep his emotions from controlling his decision-making because he agreed to it without much persuasion. Changbin was determined that, in the end, Hyunjin would not be a total fuck up when it came to kissing, even if that meant he had to put himself through hell trying to keep his feelings out of the equation.

~

Hyunjin admittedly felt a little guilty when he plopped down on Changbin’s bed a couple days later and asked, “So, is it time for my first lesson yet?”

He had been wanting to kiss Changbin pretty much since the moment they met. Lying about not having experience and needing help was the strategy he had finally brainstormed to get his way. He had the smallest hint of feeling like he would regret this idea but he blamed Changbin and his doll lips for ultimately giving into temptation.

The older swiveled around in his desk chair to face Hyunjin. “I suppose. But are you sure you want me to be your first kiss?”

Hyunjin coughed and tripped over his own words, “It-it’s just p-practice! It doesn’t really c-count as the-the-as the real thing!”

Changbin gently smiled at him but Hyunjin couldn’t tell if the flash in his eyes was of pain or pity. He decided to ignore it since neither would make him feel any better. Changbin was about to push himself out of his chair but Hyunjin stopped him, “Um, I’ll-I’ll come over there.”

The sudden raise of his eyebrows gave away the fact that Changbin was somewhat startled by Hyunjin’s statement but he nodded curtly as permission, “Whatever you’re comfortable with.” He relaxed back into his chair as Hyunjin shyly made his way over. The younger stopped about a foot away from Changbin’s knees and gulped, genuinely nervous as hell.

“So, should I just…” Hyunjin didn’t know if he was supposed to wait for instruction or if he was meant to just dive in. Changbin raised a brow, challenging this time, and waited to see if Hyunjin really would make the first move. Sure enough, he stepped slightly closer, let out a quick breath, and leaned forward, placing a hand on each armrest before quickly pecking Changbin’s lips. “There. How was that?”

Changbin’s brain took a moment to process the question, eventually coming to the conclusion that teasing would prompt the most favorable outcome a.k.a. Hyunjin pouting in frustration. “How was what?”

Bingo. Hyunjin huffed angrily, brows knitted together and lips pushed out in the anticipated pout. He balled his fists at his sides and slowly unclenched them. Leaning back in, he placed a slightly longer peck on Changbin’s lips but retreated just as fast as the first time. He gestured sharply, “That.”

“That?” Changbin asked, pointing at his own lips. Hyunjin inclined his head and his expression could only read ‘duh’. “That wasn’t a kiss.”

A fire lit behind Hyunjin’s eyes and he snarled, “Then what, Seonsaengnim, is?”

Changbin smirked daringly and patted his thigh, “Take a seat, haksaeng.”

Hyunjin matched the older’s smirk and, licking his lips seductively, he eased himself into Changbin’s lap, one thick thigh on either side. It was a little awkward in the desk chair but something about squeezing in so close together made it all the more thrilling. Changbin’s hands immediately found the younger’s hips, earning a shiver when he gripped at them roughly.

The elder was completely calm, steely gaze wandering Hyunjin’s features while Hyunjin felt just as inexperienced as he was pretending to be, panting already. Bin slid his hand up Hyunjin’s side to rest his pointer finger under his chin. The pad of his thumb pressed into the younger’s plush lower lip as he gently guided him forward. Hyunjin obediently let himself be pulled closer, eyes slipping closed at the delicate touch.

When Changbin slotted their lips together, he felt Hyunjin instantly melt into him and he resisted the urge to grin at his silent victory. He pulled back with a soft smacking noise before pressing his lips to Hyunjin’s again. After a few careful, sweet kisses to start off, the older drew back and looked at the boy in his lap who was chasing his lips with his eyes still closed. Changbin let out a quiet chuckle, “Eager puppy.”

Hyunjin whined and pouted again, eyes finally opening to look at Changbin. “Feels nice,” he mumbled under his breath as he glanced off to the side, somewhat embarrassed to make too much eye contact.

Bin hummed, “That’s nothing. Wanted to start you off easy though. Didn’t want to rush you at the very start.” He caressed the side of his face, thumb running over the soft skin of Hyunjin’s cheekbone before something in his brain alerted him that he was letting his feelings bleed in and he jerked his hand back suddenly.

Hyunjin tilted his head, expression rather confused, but Changbin covered up the awkwardness by forcing a smile. “Your turn.” The younger looked even more confused and Bin chuckled, “It’s pop quiz time. Show me what you’ve learned so far.”

“Already?” Hyunjin asked, dumbfounded. A light blush began to tint his cheeks. “Kinda lost focus,” he admitted. “I don’t really remember what to do.”

Bin smiled genuinely, “Just do your best, pup.”

Hyunjin’s blush deepened at the nickname and he took a deep breath before hesitantly reaching up to rest his fingertips against Changbin’s jawline and leaned in. He fit their lips together just like Bin had done earlier, dragging away and pressing in again and again.

When he withdrew, Changbin was a little flushed and Hyunjin felt a jolt of happiness rush through him because that was from him. He grinned, “How was that?”

Bin scoffed jokingly, “‘Don’t really remember’, my ass!”

The younger blushed again and his gaze fell to his hands in his lap where he was picking at loose skin around his fingernail.

“It was much better, Jinnie. You did well.” Hyunjin glanced up at Changbin’s praise and smiled gratefully. “But I think that’s enough learning for today.”

Hyujin shook his head adamantly and pouted again, ���Just one more lesson. Please, Binnie hyung?”

Changbin’s laugh was bright and teasing, “You like kissing that much already?”

The younger bit at his lip and glanced away before looking back at Bin and nodded shyly. He really, really, really liked it, especially if it was with Changbin; he wasn’t going to admit that out loud.

Changbin sighed, feigning reluctance, but he couldn’t help but grin, “Alright. You know I can’t say no to those puppy dog eyes of yours.”

Hyunjin lit up and bounced slightly in Bin’s lap, wrapping his arms around his neck as he settled comfortably. Changbin’s hands were back on his hips and he nodded at the younger, “C’mere.”

Giggling, Hyunjin leaned in once again and voluntarily initiated the kiss, letting Bin take the lead after he had left a few sweet pecks on his lips. Changbin fluidly moved their lips together and, without noticing in order to stop himself, Hyunjin ‘caught on’ rather quickly. He lost himself in Changbin’s pretty doll lips, his warmth, the scent of his skin, in Changbin. Hyunjin’s fingers found the hair at Bin’s nape and he tangled them in the soft strands while the older’s arms wound around his waist, drawing him in even closer.

Changbin didn’t let the kiss get too dirty or passionate but he knew it felt right, Hyunjin in his lap holding onto him for dear life, tugging at his hair, squeezing in as close as possible. The older pulled away begrudgingly and Hyunjin chased his lips again, causing Bin to chuckle at him despite his own labored breathing. “That’s enough, pup.” Hyunjin pouted once more and slouched in disappointment. “You’re a fast learner, aren’t you, Jinnie?”

The younger hummed appreciatively, “I’m learning from the best.”

Bin rolled his eyes and let out a huff of air in his amusement. “How do you know I’m the best, Mr. I Have No Experience?”

“Shh,” Hyunjin hushed him with a long, slender finger faintly resting against Changbin’s rose tinted lips. “I just know.” A glint of mischief flashed in his eyes and he bit at his bottom lip before giggling again. He tried as gracefully as he could to stand up but his legs were admittedly a little wobbly. Hyunjin just laughed at himself and shrugged, “Well, I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing before I bothered you.”

Changbin furrowed his brow. “You didn’t bother me, Hyunjin. I’m, uhh,” he cleared his throat, “I’m happy to help.”

Hyunjin smiled warmly and leaned down to press another kiss to his hyung’s lips. “Thank you, Binnie hyung,” he whispered against them before pulling away and leaving Changbin’s bedroom, softly shutting the door behind himself.

Bin sat staring after him for who knows how many minutes, lost in thought and missing the warmth of Hyunjin in his lap. He sighed deeply. He simply wanted what he just couldn’t have and he had to convince himself to bury those feelings. He was going to regret this, he could feel it in his bones.

The younger leaned his back against the door and stared off into space wondering why he even started this whole thing, why he didn’t just tell Changbin the truth and admit his feelings from the start. Guilt swam in his stomach like churning waves and he felt tears prick at his eyes. Hyunjin gulped and blinked them away, taking a deep breath before heading off to distract himself somehow.

~

“Is this ok?” Hyunjin asked tentatively as he eased down onto Changbin’s lap.

Bin chuckled, “This seems to be your favorite spot lately.” When the younger blushed and shied away, Changbin smiled warmly and rested his hands on Hyunjin’s hips, “As long as you're comfortable, I’m fine.”

Biting his lip, Hyunjin glanced at the couch cushion next to them and cleared his throat. “So what’s lesson three, or whatever number we’re on?”

The elder smirked, “I know you’ve been keeping track, pup. You can’t fool me.” Changbin swore he saw Hyunjin’s eye twitch and a flash of agony wash over his face and leave as quickly as it came, but he chose to ignore it and ghosted his hands up and down the sides of the boy in his lap. “Why don’t I just show you, hmm?”

“Should I expect a pop quiz after?” Hyunjin looked up through his lashes, teasing smile curving his pretty, plush lips.

Changbin scoffed jokingly, “It wouldn’t be a pop quiz if I warned you it was happening, Jinnie.”

The younger squinted suspiciously and shrugged his shoulders. “I thought I’d be able to read you. But I guess I’ll just have to pay really close attention and impress you if you do decide to test me.”

Nervousness peeked through Changbin’s calm facade and he gulped apprehensively before composing himself and grunting a noise of acknowledgement. He reached up to grab the back of Hyunjin’s neck and tugged him forward, slotting their lips together forcefully. Hyunjin’s breath hitched and the desire to ruin him clouded Changbin’s mind as he moved his lips against Hyunjin’s, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth before nipping at it aggressively. The younger let out a surprised but pleased sigh and Changbin felt him shiver in his hold.

He kissed back just as sharply, pulling back slightly with Changbin’s lower lip trapped in his teeth, tugging at the flesh before letting it bounce back. He opened his eyes to admire Bin’s features and when the olders eyes fluttered open, Hyunjin smirked at how dark and lustful his gaze had become. Without warning, Hyunjin dove back in and Changbin found himself panting into the others mouth, caught off guard and losing himself in the kiss.

Hyunjin kissed eagerly and feverishly, mouth moving forcibly against Changbin’s but somehow it wasn’t too much. In fact, Bin was craving more and he had to force himself not to take more than was acceptable at the time. He reluctantly withdrew, head falling back against the couch as he tried to catch his breath, eyes still closed.

“Fuck,” Changbin laughed airily, “I don’t think I have to test you after that.”

“Yeah?”

Bin let out another huff of air, “Yeah. It was almost too good.”

Hyunjin sucked his lips into his mouth and bit down, frowning skittishly and glad Changbin still had his eyes shut. “Sorry.”

“No!” Bin’s head shot up and he looked at the younger, perplexed. “Why are you apologizing, Jinnie?” He shook his head and chuckled gently, “I honestly didn’t want to stop.”

Lips shaped like a perfect ‘O’, Hyunjin gazed back at him, expression a little surprised as his cheeks reddened, “Oh.”

Changbin smiled at him fondly but embarrassment at his own admission started to creep up and he looked away shyly. “Don’t look at me like that! I can’t help it, I enjoyed it!”

Hyunjin giggled and leaned forward to whisper in Bin’s ear, “I liked it, too. Really, really liked it.” When he sat back, Changbin’s eyes had darkened again, pupils blown and faintly swollen lips parted.

“In that case,” the younger fidgeted in his lap as he took a deep, calming breath before continuing. “Move on to the next lesson?”

Eyes widening minutely, Hyunjin nodded slowly, glancing down at Changbin’s lips before flicking back up to hold his steady gaze. “Please,” he pleaded almost soundlessly.

“I think I’m gonna regret teaching you how to use tongue because you’ll pick it up really fast and you’re gonna be the death of me, I swear,” Changbin mumbled unintelligibly under his breath. Hyunjin managed to make out the last part of his sentence.

You’re gonna be the death of me, I swear.

Those words swam around in his foggy head as he stared into Changbin’s eyes, almost in a daze and Changbin thought he looked far too fucked out from just a kiss but he wasn’t complaining about the beauty sitting in his lap. The older lured Hyunjin again easily, moulding their lips together the second he was close enough. Hyunjin felt like he was floating and he was suddenly brought back to earth by a burning in the pit of his stomach when Changbin slid his tongue over his bottom lip. He gasped against the older’s mouth, granting him access and tightening his grip around his neck, chests pressed against each other.

Changbin cautiously licked around the outline of Hyunjin’s open mouth, urging a stunned moan to escape from the younger boy. Smiling into the kiss, Bin sucked at his lower lip before moving their lips together again. Hyunjin hesitantly poked his tongue out and Changbin took the opportunity to suck on it, earning a whimper as Hyunjin fisted the front of the elders shirt. Changbin kissed him deeply and, just as he expected, the younger caught on quickly, tongues gracefully dancing together amidst sloppy, open-mouthed kisses.

Pulling away for desperately needed oxygen, they rested their foreheads together as Changbin panted through a smile and Hyunjin stared at him, a hazy look in his eyes. Seconds later, Hyunjin pressed his lips to his hyung’s with new fervor, hands still tightly clutching at the material of Changbin’s shirt. He moaned wantonly when the elder squeezed at his waist.

Hyunjin felt the need to prove what he had learned despite not being asked this time around. He gave up trying to act like all this was new to him and just gave into kissing Changbin. Using his tongue like a hook, Hyunjin dragged Bin’s upper lip into his mouth and nipped at the flesh. The older groaned deeply and his hips canted upwards unintentionally. Pleased with himself, Hyunjin took to exploring Changbin’s mouth, earning moans and whimpers alike. When he finally pulled back, Changbin was the one dazed; kiss-bitten, swollen lips a deep, cherry red and eyes black and lecherous.

“Fuck,” he breathed, throwing his head back again. “Fuck! Why are you such a fast learner?”

The younger smirked, a sudden urge to kiss down Changbin’s exposed throat flashed in his mind but he quickly rid his brain of the thought, sure that that would be too far. At least for the moment.

Changbin laughed at the ceiling. It was almost lethargic. “I think the student has surpassed the teacher, fucking hell!”

Hyunjin couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled up in his chest and he covered his mouth, eyes forming crescent moons above his hand.

“You can’t just look all cute after you did...that,” Bin mumbled when he glanced at the laughing boy in his lap. Suddenly reminded of the whole ‘canting of his hips’ thing and the very evident bulge in his pants underneath Hyunjin’s ass, Changbin flushed, mortified. Hyunjin took that exact moment to squirm in the olders lap and Bin groaned sheepishly. “That’s probably completely unwarranted since we were just kissing but uhh...fuck it! It’s your fault for being too good at kissing so thanks for that!”

Joy mixed with pride bloomed in Hyunjin and he bit his lip, giggling even more, before leaning in to whisper in Changbin’s ear once more. “It was my pleasure,” he taunted, taking Bin’s earring between his teeth and tugged at it gently; the older shivered under him. Then he was out of Changbin’s lap in a flash. As he made his way out of the living room, he called over his shoulder, “I’ll leave you to take care of that.”

“You little shit!” Changbin shouted after him, prompting Hyunjin to wiggle his fingers in a wave before rounding a corner. Bin dropped his head back on the couch, fancying a good old, frustrated scream, but he stayed quiet. He finally got off the couch and headed off to take care of his problem.

And if he imagined Hyunjin taking him apart bit by bit while he simultaneously took Hyunjin apart when he wrapped his hand around his aching, positively dripping cock, that was no one’s business.

He did.

He also chanted Hyunjin’s name in a whisper as he spurted white all over himself and his hand.

But again, no one’s business.

And if Hyunjin got off to the sounds his hyung was making in the other room while he imagined how good Changbin would look covered in his cum, just to reiterate, that was no one’s business.

He did.

He was also overcome with an overwhelming wave of guilt moments after he came to the thought of Changbin.

No one’s business.

~

It became a normal thing, secret kisses and immediate guilt and burying of feelings. Hyunjin was sick to his stomach quite often, to the point that Chan got concerned with how often he was saying he was sick and going to lay down. Changbin worried that it was his fault. Maybe the younger was sick of him. Maybe he hated kissing Bin and just kept going along with it so as not to make him feel bad. If only he hadn’t said yes, if only they didn’t keep this up, if only, if, if. Changbin worried himself sick but he didn’t let Chan notice because Chan definitely didn’t need anything else to worry about.

“I’m going to go check on him,” Changbin volunteered a few minutes after Hyunjin mentioned he was feeling off and went to lay down for the nth time that week. Chan gave him an appreciative look and nodded approvingly.

Bin headed for the kitchen to make some ginger tea to soothe Hyunjin’s upset stomach. Once it was brewed, he took the steaming mug and knocked lightly on Hyunjin’s bedroom door before quietly opening it and peeking his head in. “Jinnie, it’s me. I brought you some ginger tea. It might help your stomach.”

Hyunjin grunted and laid still, facing the wall as Changbin padded in and set the mug down on the bedside table. The older hesitated before sitting on the bed in the curve Hyunjin’s legs formed and rested a gentle hand on his arm. “Jinnie,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

Changbin heard a sniffle and his heart immediately clenched in pain at the thought of Hyunjin crying. “Oh, Jinnie, baby. Don’t cry,” he pleaded selfishly, knowing just how much it hurt to see him cry.

Hyunjin let out a sob. “Why did you say you’re sorry? What for? I’m the one that’s sorry. I’m so sorry,” he babbled, voice cracking every other word. “I’m so sorry, hyung.”

“Jinnie,” Bin hesitated, on the brink of tears himself and he was sure they would spill when he saw the younger’s face but he asked anyway. “Can you look at me, please?” Hyunjin hiccuped and turned to face the older, unable to look him in the eye. “What are you apologizing for, baby? You have nothing to be sorry for!”

Throwing his hands up in the air, Hyunjin scoffed exasperatedly. “You couldn’t be more wrong, hyung!” He let his hands fall back to his sides and laughed sardonically through his tears.

Changbin couldn’t help the hurt expression that morphed his features. “I can’t know unless you tell me,” he tried, reaching for the younger’s hand to squeeze reassuringly. “You can tell me anything, Jinnie.” He could practically see the gears turning in Hyunjin’s head as he debated on whether or not to tell his hyung the truth. “I’m not sure if you think this or not, but I’m not mad at you. And I won’t be, no matter what you tell me. I just want to know what’s wrong because I’m worried sick about you and I want to fix whatever’s wrong if I can.”

Hyunjin’s bottom lip trembled as fresh tears spilled over his cheeks. He shot up and wrapped his arms around Changbin, weeping into his shoulder as the older took him into his arms and soothed a hand up and down his back. “Jinnie,” he whispered, burying his face in Hyunjin’s neck. But that’s all he said. He waited patiently for the younger to speak his mind.

“I lied to you,” Hyunjin mumbled into his t-shirt. “I lied about,” his body shook with the deep breath he took, “I lied about not having experience.” Hyunjin pulled away and sat hunched over, staring into his own lap and fiddled with a loose string on his pant leg. “I made it all up. All of it. The whole kissing practice thing was just an excuse. And I kept the lie going and I feel awful about it. I feel so sick over it because I never intended to hurt you or force you into it or anything like that. I feel sick over it because I’ve had feelings for you this whole time and I’ve been ignoring them so much when I’m with you that when I’m not with you, they all come crashing down on me and I feel like I’m going to throw up because I’m so overwhelmed with guilt. I can’t lie to you anymore, hyung. I never wanted to in the first place. But my stupid brain couldn’t figure out another way to make you see that I’m in love with you. So instead, I just hurt the both of us. Like an idiot. And I know I hurt you because you wouldn’t have apologized if I didn’t. You’re too sweet, saying you’re sorry for something that isn’t even remotely your fault and you know it. You’re too sweet and I love you for it. So much. And I’m so, so sorry.”

Changbin’s brain couldn’t process the entirety of the sudden influx of information that had just poured out of Hyunjin’s mouth. All he could process was three things, and he told Hyunjin so. “All I heard was ‘I lied’, ‘I’m sorry’, and ‘I’m in love with you’.” Hyunjin looked somewhat fearful, combined with embarrassment and regret. The older shook his head and took Hyunjin’s hands into his own. “And I’m telling you the exact same thing. I lied in the sense that I never told you I had feelings for you when I’ve had them since we first met. I’m sorry that I kept this thing going without telling you everything--I’m the hyung here, that’s on me. And I’m in love with you, too.”

“Y-you don’t hate me?” Hyunjin’s brows were scrunched together and he stared at the older in disbelief.

Reaching up to wipe away the new tears from the younger’s cheeks, Changbin shook his head adamantly. “Baby, no! I could never hate you! I mean, I can’t say I like the fact that you lied to me but I don’t blame you because I lied to you, too. We both didn’t know how to just come right out with our feelings. And besides, it got us this far, didn’t it?”

Hyunjin chuckled sadly, “I guess so. I’m still really sorry, hyung.”

“I know, Jinnie. Me too,” Changbin gently tugged him forward into another hug which Hyunjin gladly melted into. “I love you.”

Another sob slipped past Hyunjin’s lips and he laughed at himself, “Sorry, I didn’t know I would react like that hearing you say that for the first time.”

Changbin hummed and nuzzled into his neck, arms squeezing Hyunjin’s waist. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, hyung.”

~

“You said you don’t hate me but you’re spending awfully long amounts of time in your studio here lately.” Hyunjin’s teasing voice startled a very focused Changbin who was absorbed in whatever he was working on. He quickly spun around in his chair and his gaze found the younger standing in the doorway, his hip leant against the door frame and arms crossed over his chest, eyebrow raised, feigning suspicion.

Changbin whined, “You know I miss you like crazy. I’ve just had so much work to get done.”

Smirk curving his lips, Hyunjin sauntered into the room, closing the door behind him and turned the lock. “Why don’t you show me how much you miss me?” He taunted as he dropped onto the sofa in Changbin’s studio, clearly expecting the older to come to him.

Bin scoffed lightly before turning back around to fiddle with something while defeat and embarrassment crept up in Hyunjin; he genuinely thought Changbin was just ignoring him and finishing his work like the younger wasn’t even there. But soon, a sultry melody with heavy bass flooded through the speakers in the studio [Electric (R3hab Remix) (feat. Khalid) - Alina Baraz] and Changbin turned back around to face Hyunjin, smirking himself when he saw the expression on Hyunjin’s face. Pushing out of his chair, Bin stalked over to the couch, slipping his t-shirt over his head and tossed it behind himself carelessly as he watched Hyunjin rake his carnal gaze over the newly exposed skin, dark eyes hooded and full lips parted.

When he finally stood in front of the younger, he snickered wickedly and leaned in to ghost his lips over Hyunjin’s before gently guiding him to lay down on the sofa, body rolling fluidly as he climbed on top of him. “That was way too smooth,” Hyunjin whispered, impressed, causing Changbin’s smirk to widen if that was even possible.

“Kinda surprised myself there, honestly.” His smirk transformed into a genuine smile as he chuckled at himself and Hyunjin thought he looked positively beautiful in that moment. The feeling was mutual. Changbin stared at the boy below him -- long blond hair splayed out around his head, flush high on his cheeks, an enthralled fascination swirled deep in his inky eyes alongside pure admiration and want. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he rasped, mesmerized.

“Kiss me,” Hyunjin breathed. Changbin didn’t need to be told twice. He bent down and brushed their noses together ever so gently before capturing Hyunjin’s lips. Moving gracefully, Bin kissed him deeply, wanting to convey as much emotion as he possibly could, needing Hyunjin to know how much he loved him. He couldn’t help but say it, though.

“I love you, Jinnie.”

Hyunjin hummed against his mouth, “Mmm, love you, too, hyung. So much.” He threw his arms around Changbin, pulling him in even closer and arched into him when the older teased their tongues together.

“Want you,” Hyunjin gasped after moments of kissing the life out of each other. “Want you so bad.”

Changbin growled, kissing along Hyunjin’s jawline and down his neck as the younger boy bared his throat for him. Desperately wanting to leave marks, he knew he couldn’t leave anything in visible areas so he softly mouthed, kissed, and licked at the column of Hyunjin’s neck, earning constant whimpers and whines because of the sensitivity of the area. When Bin reached his clavicle, the urge won over and he sucked a deep plum-colored mark where he thought would be the perfect place. Sitting up to marvel at Hyunjin, Changbin let out a pleased hum at how divine the younger looked with his claim on him. The stylist noonas probably wouldn’t be too happy but Hyunjin looked plenty sexy when he was more covered up so Changbin didn’t think it would be too much of a problem. He didn’t care anyway. Hyunjin was his.

“Mine,” he murmured as he bent down again briefly to kiss at the pretty bruise. When he sat back up, he smiled in awe. “Always wanted to know what you’d look like underneath me like this.”

Hyunjin huffed out a chuckle, “And how do I look?”

“Impossibly perfect. Better than I ever dreamed,” Bin praised, eyes sparkling when he noticed Hyunjin’s cheeks redden. He shook his head and laughed breathily, “And I haven’t even ruined you yet!”

“Binnie hyung,” Hyunjin whined, pouting just how Changbin liked so much.

Bin smirked, “I know, baby,” he leaned down to kiss him again, “I’ve got you.” Hands trailing up Hyunjin’s sides and lifting his shirt in the process, Changbin sucked at his plush lips, fingertips delicately dancing over the other boy’s skin. Goosebumps rose under his touch and the younger arched into him again, moaning sweetly, so receptive and sensitive. “Off,” Changbin murmured against Hyunjin’s mouth.

Sitting up to lift his shirt over his head and toss it to the side, Hyunjin promptly fell back against the cushion, hair flooding out around him again. The dim, hazy light that filled the room lit up his blond strands and looked suspiciously like a halo to Changbin. But he knew better. This was no angel beneath him. This was a devil with a halo. Hyunjin had been shy and pliant but when he noticed how Changbin was staring at him, he couldn’t help but smirk as a wicked naughtiness shone behind his eyes and Changbin swore this boy would be the end of him.

Without warning, Bin leaned down to mouth at one of Hyunjin’s pert nipples and he grinned against his skin when the younger boy whimpered and canted his hips, the brief flash of power behind his eyes vanishing as quickly as it appeared. The older tugged gently with his teeth, earning a gasp and a roll of Hyunjin’s hips. Changbin hummed, “Bet I could make you cum from just your nipples, hmm? Would you like that, pup?”

Hyunjin shook his head fervently, “No! Want you, hyung!”

Chuckling, Changbin nodded as he pressed kisses over to Hyunjin’s other side. “Alright. Patience, baby. I told you I’d ruin you and I’m going to take my time. Understood?”

Sucking in a breath past his teeth, Hyunjin melted further into the sofa, “Yes, hyung.”

Changbin took his time toying with Hyunjin’s nipples before mouthing over the entirety of his chest, leaving burgundy flowers blooming in his wake, littering his skin with possessive marks. Whimpering and biting at his lips, Hyunjin craved more and Changbin could feel just how badly he needed him. He tugged at the waistband of the younger boy’s jeans, “I’m gonna take these off now. Is that ok?”

“Please,” Hyunjin begged simply. So Bin unfastened them slowly and slipped the material down his legs and threw it behind himself blindly before kneeling between his legs and bending down to mouth at his clothed cock. “Oh!” Hyunjin gasped, hands immediately flying to Changbin’s hair and tugging at the strands at the nape of his neck. The older smiled against him and hooked his fingers under the band, looking up for permission. When Hyunjin nodded, hooded eyes fluttering and lips bitten red, looking absolutely breathtaking, Bin removed them, wasting no time in mouthing at his leaking cock. The younger squirmed beneath him, mewling as he sucked at his balls. “Hyung, I-” A strangled moan cut off his words when Changbin wrapped his pretty doll lips around the head of his dick.

“Hmm?” Bin questioned wordlessly, suckling tenderly. But Hyunjin didn’t answer; he threw his head back and cursed under his breath when Changbin moved further down. Hollowing his cheeks, he bobbed his head, gradually taking more and more of Hyunjin. The younger writhed, wanton moans spilling from his lips.

Hyunjin had quite a bit of length but Changbin knew he could take it so he relaxed his throat and slid all the way down. “Hyung! Mouth- so good- I- Oh my god!” Hyunjin slurred, tightening his grasp on the hair in his fists. Bin’s chest warmed, proud of himself, knowing he was giving Hyunjin so much pleasure he could barely speak. The head of Hyunjin’s cock repeatedly hit the back of his throat before he stilled, swallowing around him, urging a weak scream from the boy under him.

Changbin loved how vocal Hyunjin was but in that moment, he was eternally grateful for the soundproof walls surrounding them. He lifted off Hyunjin’s cock, having decided it was sufficiently wet, and if not, the pre-cum would make the slide easier. Bin sat up on his knees and untucked himself, not even bothering to take off his sweats, just shoving them out of the way enough before leaning forward to hover over Hyunjin. Avoiding his hair, Changbin rested on his forearm against the cushion and slotted their hips together, hard, leaking cocks brushing each other as he watched the younger’s face morph in euphoria.

Spitting in his hand, just in case, Bin reached down between them and took both cocks in his hand, instantly dropping his head to Hyunjin’s neck and rolling his hips into his grasp. Hyunjin groaned and wrapped his arms around Changbin’s torso. “Yes,” he whispered in his ear, “You feel so good, hyung. Touch me just like that.”

Controlling nature fading in and out, Hyunjin vacilated between flustered, slurred words and heated, dirty talk like it was the easiest thing in the world and Changbin couldn’t help but be amused despite the tingle that shot up his spine at Hyunjin’s words. He smiled against Hyunjin’s fiery skin, placing small kisses on the junction where his neck met his shoulder.

Changbin continued to tug at their cocks until Hyunjin was whining in his ear and digging his nails into his back. “I’m so close, hyung. Please make me cum. Please,” he panted as he thrusted into Bin’s fist.

The older groaned in response, rhythm speeding up slightly and he stopped every once in a while to squeeze at the heads. “‘m close too, pup. Gonna make a mess of you. Gonna cum all over your pretty tummy. Bet you look gorgeous covered in my cum.”

Hyunjin suddenly stopped breathing, seizing up and arching into the older, chests pressing together as he spilled himself over Changbin’s hand and his own stomach. Bin leaned up just in time to see the ecstasy freeze up his beautiful features, hypnotized by the boy beneath him. “Wow,” he breathed, helping Hyunjin ride out his orgasm. Air returned to the younger boy’s lungs and he turned to lazily smile at Changbin.

He stopped stroking them together, letting Hyunjin’s cock fall into the mess on his stomach as he sat up and grasped his own length. Using the cum his hand was covered in to ease the slide even more, Bin fisted himself eagerly and seconds later, he streaked Hyunjin’s stomach with his own release. Changbin slouched as the energy evaporated from him.

Through heavy-lidded eyes, he watched Hyunjin trail his fingertips through the cum on his abdomen, swirling it around sloppily, mixing their releases before scooping up a decent amount. Changbin’s eyes widened and his dick twitched in renewed interest as Hyunjin brought his fingers to his mouth and wrapped his pillowy, kiss-bitten lips around them. Their eyes met as the younger boy cleaned his fingers of their cum, blown pupils swimming with desire and mischief.

“Fuck,” Changbin huffed, hovering over Hyunjin once more. “What a dirty baby!” Hyunjin smirked as he pulled his fingers from his mouth, a single strand of saliva connecting them. Bin broke it with the tip of his tongue before capturing the younger boy’s lips and dipping his tongue in to taste their cum on Hyunjin’s tongue.

He moaned at the older’s boldness and kissed him deeper. He teasingly mumbled against Changbin’s lips, “You’re dirty, too, hyung, aren’t you?” Bin just smiled and kissed him again.

After losing track of the time they spent kissing and giving himself enough of a refractory time period, Changbin pulled away and met Hyunjin’s eyes. “How about you flip over so I can taste you some more, hmm?” Hyunjin nodded quickly and reached for a t-shirt on the floor to rid his stomach of the rest of the mess. He was pretty sure it was his own shirt and in the back of his mind, he briefly hoped Bin had a spare or at least a hoodie so he wouldn’t have to return to the dorms suspiciously shirtless.

He cleaned himself off and turned over as requested and Changbin’s hands immediately gripped at his ass, kneading the flesh and spreading his cheeks. “Fuck, Jinnie! You’re too pretty, god!” Hyunjin looked over his shoulder at the older and scrunched his nose in a teasing manner while shaking his ass as best he could in Changbin’s grasp. Bin landed a slap against his right cheek, punishment for his playful taunting, and Hyunjin groaned deeply, dropping his head to the couch cushion and lifting his hips slightly, seemingly silently begging for more.

Changbin willingly obliged his unspoken request, his expression a nasty sneer as he smacked Hyunjin’s left cheek. “Wanna look in the mirror and see my handprints on your ass? My marks all over your pretty chest and thighs? Feel my lingering touch on your heated skin? Know you’re mine?” He demanded, spellbound by the way Hyunjin’s ass jiggled every time he laid a hard slap on the soft flesh.

Hyunjin wailed loudly at a particularly harsh spank and pushed his ass back towards Changbin. “Fuck, yes! More! Please, more! Make me yours, hyung!”

Bin growled unrestrainedly and ceased his attack on Hyunjin’s reddened skin, instead moving to lick a long stripe up his puckered hole. The younger boy let out a sound somewhere between a moan and a squeak and Changbin smiled against his skin at how oddly cute it was. He continued to lick and suck at his rim, urging the sweetest melodies to flow from his lover. When he poked his tongue inside, Hyunjin laughed deliriously, drunk with pleasure. Changbin thrusted his tongue in and out of Hyunjin’s pretty hole while the younger urged him on with frantic praise, “Oh, Binnie-hyung! Your filthy mouth feels so fucking good on me! You eat my ass so well! Fuck, just like that! Eat my ass just like that, yes! Yes!”

He pushed back again and Bin gripped at his ass and thighs, leaving prints and crescent-shaped indents as he massaged the flesh and buried his tongue in further, sucking at his rim. Adding a single finger, Changbin pushed the digit in alongside his tongue only to discover that it went in far too easily. He hummed suspiciously and sat up on his heels, sliding two fingers in place of one and Hyunjin whined at the feeling. “Tell me, pup,” he prompted, wiping the spit from his chin with the back of his hand and pumped his fingers slowly. “What have you been doing that’s got your slutty hole so loose, hmm?”

Hyunjin whimpered, burying his face further into his folded arms. Changbin slapped his ass again, “Answer me, pup.”

“F-fingered my-myself in the s-shower before I got here,” he admitted shamefully, stuttering as he dared to look back at the elder with his eyes wide and pleading. “Th-thought of you the wh-whole time, h-hyung.”

How the younger went from filthy, dirty talk to bashful stuttering in two seconds flat continued to bewilder Changbin but he was thoroughly enjoying the rollercoaster that was Hyunjin. He grunted in approval, “Good boy.”

Hyunjin’s eyes practically rolled to the back of his head and he couldn’t help but rut against the couch at the blatant praise. Changbin snickered at him, plunging his fingers in even further but still avoided his prostate. “You gonna cum from my fingers, baby?” He questioned, adding a third digit and urging a shaky groan from the boy beneath him.

“No!” Hyunjin shook his head adamantly as he rocked back onto Changbin’s fingers. “Wanna cum- I wanna cum on your cock. Please, hyung. Fuck me, please!”

Changbin hummed, “But, pup. I haven’t got any lube. Your hole may be loose from fingering yourself but I don’t want to hurt you stuffing my cock in your ass without lube. I don’t have a condom either.” His tone was disparaging, laced with overly-dramatic dissatisfaction even though he was genuinely dissapointed; he really did want to fuck Hyunjin but the last thing he wanted was to really hurt him.

Hyunjin shook his head again and gestured off towards another part of the room. “Back pocket,” he huffed. “Jeans back pocket. Brought lube.” He swallowed, still panting as Changbin spread his fingers wide inside him. “Don’t need a condom. Wanna feel you, hyung, please.”

Changbin stilled, “Are you sure, baby?”

“We’re clean. Don’t need it,” the younger boy mumbled, “Want you.”

Pressing kisses against the base of Hyunjin’s spine, Bin slowly pulled out his fingers, “Alright, baby. I’ll be right back.”

He rose from the couch to search for Hyunjin’s jeans that he had tossed god knows where, shucking off his own pants in the process -- why he hadn’t taken them off up until then, he had no clue, but he was glad to be rid of them. After coming up empty handed fishing through one pocket, he found a small bottle of lube tucked away in the opposite side and cheered internally before returning to the sofa where Hyunjin was rutting desperately against the cushion in his impatience. Bin was suddenly thankful that the material was easy to clean as he was sure Hyunjin was making a mess of it and they both would make even more of a mess not using a condom. He shrugged off his worries and resumed his place between Hyunjin’s thighs, uncapping the lube and squeezing a generous amount onto his fingers.

Warming it, Changbin hovered his hand over Hyunjin’s twitching hole, “I’m going to open you up a little more, OK, pup?”

“Hurry, please,” the younger boy begged, “Want you.”

Pressing in, Bin reminded him, “Patience, baby,” even though he was becoming desperate himself. He scissored his fingers around, searching for that spot that would make Hyunjin see stars and beg even more for Changbin’s cock.

He knew he found it when Hyunjin jolted forward and let out a choked, gurgled sounding moan and he couldn’t help but chuckle when the younger boy whipped his head over his shoulder and glared at him. Dropping the honorifics, it was Hyunjin’s turn to growl, “Now, Changbin! Fuck me now!”

Bin retracted his hand and lifted both up in surrender, still smiling, “As you wish.”

Lubing up his neglected cock, Changbin hissed in sensitivity as he gave himself a few good tugs. He lightly smacked Hyunjin’s hip, “Up.” The younger boy immediately lifted his hips, rising to his knees while still leaning his forearms and the side of his face into the sofa cushion. “Good boy,” Bin praised, lining himself up and teasing Hyunjin’s fluttering hole with the head of his cock. He carefully pressed in, Hyunjin’s breath hitching with the initial stretch, going slow so the younger had time to adjust. When he was about halfway in, Changbin rubbed a comforting hand over Hyunjin’s lower back, “You OK, baby?”

“Ngh, more, more, please more,” he wailed, pushing back against the elder.

Changbin chuckled fondly and slid in the rest of the way, hips pressed snugly against Hyunjin’s ass. “There,” he breathed, barely above a whisper.

Hyunjin gripped at the edge of the cushion, “Fuck, you’re big!” Usually, Changbin would absolutely preen at that kind of glorifying but for some reason, he just blushed and let out the tiniest of squeaks.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, dropping his head forward onto Hyunjin’s back, barely changing the angle but it was enough for the younger boy to feel it.

“Oh!” Hyunjin shivered, breathing heavy as he reached back with one hand to grip at Changbin. His hand landed somewhere between his thigh and ass; he couldn’t tell where but he wasn’t complaining and immediately squeezed a handful of his thick body. Bin grunted and the younger laughed breathily, “Don’t apologize! You’re perfect! Just let me- don’t move for a minute. I gotta-”

Changbin tenderly covered the boy with his own body and whispered in his ear to calm him, “Thank you, Jinnie. You’re perfect, too.” He pressed gentle kisses along Hyunjin’s shoulder, smiling into his skin as he spoke. “Just relax, baby. Take your time. You let me know if it’s too much, OK? We’ll stop!”

“No, I want this! I want you! I just- you’re so-” Hyunjin’s words trailed off into a moan as he rolled his own hips. “Big! Feels so good! You feel so good, hyung!”

The elder squeezed his eyes shut, willing the urge to just pound into him to go away, and took a shaky breath, “Does it hurt?”

Hyunjin shook his head. “Uh-uh,” he slurred, “‘s just a lot.” After another minute or two, the younger boy nodded, “‘s OK, hyung. You can move.”

Changbin kept his position, mouthing at Hyunjin’s neck and shoulder to distract him somewhat, but he started to roll his hips experimentally. Little grunts and whimpers passed Hyunjin’s plush lips and Bin pressed sweet kisses to the side of his face, whispering praises in his ear, “My baby. So good for me. Love you, Jinnie. You feel amazing. You’re so beautiful, my pretty baby.”

Tears streaked Hyunjin’s cheeks and Changbin kissed them away, “Love you, hyung.” He squeezed the flesh in his grip, “Harder, please.”

Bin drew back his hips a little further each time he thrusted, mild but still powerful. Hyunjin’s grasp on his side fell away and instead, he reached up behind himself to thread his fingers through Changbin’s hair, keeping him close as the elder peppered his skin with kisses. Changbin nuzzled into him, whispering ‘I love you’s.

Hyunjin loved the pure bliss that he felt in Changbin’s arms, being smothered in love and praises. But he wanted to cum again. And he wanted to get fucked. Hard. So he begged for it like a good boy. “Please, more. I need more. Please fuck me harder, hyung! I need it! Please, hyung!”

Changbin straightened up with a low growl, “Such a good boy for me, begging so sweetly. I’ll give you what you want, baby.” His hands found Hyunjin’s hips, his hold tight and sure to leave prints, and he drew back, leaving just the tip of his cock in the younger’s tight hole before plunging in.

Hyunjin let out a shaky groan, wiggling his ass against Changbin’s hips. The elder held him tighter and repeated his deep thrust, reveling in the wanton moan it punched out of the boy under him. “You’re still so tight, baby. Feel so good around me, sucking me back in every time I pull out. So good for me!” He was transfixed as he watched his cock slide past Hyunjin’s tight ring of muscles.

Wailing and grunting and meeting Changbin’s thrusts, Hyunjin pleaded again, “Please, hyung! Fuck me! Pound my tight ass! Fuck me harder, please!”

Growling again, Changbin quickened his pace before lifting one leg, changing the angle and abruptly causing the most beautiful sounds to pass Hyunjin’s pillowy lips. He reduced him to sobs and whines, mewling instead of forming complete words and clawing at the couch cushions. Bin smirked through his exertion, laughing lightly at how much he had succeeded in ruining the boy.

He was nearing his climax and breathed out one last question he hoped the younger could somehow form a coherent answer to. “I’m close, pup. Where do you want my cum?”

“Ngh, in me. In me, inside, please cum in me, hyung. I need your cum, need you to cum inside, please, need you to fill me up,” Hyunjin cried, plenty coherently, thighs trembling as he felt heat pool in his own belly.

Changbin leaned over Hyunjin once more, one hand steady on his hip while the other reached around to fist at his dripping cock. “Gonna cum, pup? Gonna cum for me like a good boy?” The elder mumbled in his ear, tone almost taunting, “Gonna make a filthy mess of yourself again?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Hyunjin sobbed, “Please can I cum, hyung?”

Burying his nose into the younger boy’s neck, he smirked against his skin and gave him permission. “Of course, baby! Go ahead, cum on my cock.”

Whispering ‘thank you’s over and over again, Hyunjin’s body began to shake from how close he was. Changbin straightened up once again, effortlessly lifting Hyunjin’s knees off the sofa and he tugged just right and thrusted against the perfect spot and Hyunjin was done. Legs spasming, still clawing at the cushion he could reach, Hyunjin cried out, “Changbin! God, fuck!”

Ribbons of white sprayed over the sofa cushion and the younger boy’s walls tightened around Bin, tipping him over the edge. He stroked Hyunjin through his orgasm while he pumped him full of his cum. Changbin collapsed back on his heels, Hyunjin awkwardly falling into his lap, still connected to each other.

Using the microscopic amount of energy he had left, Hyunjin leaned back into Changbin and turned to place a lazy kiss against his jawline, melting into him as he let his battery recharge enough to make it back to the dorms.

Speaking of making it back to the dorms, Hyunjin looked down at himself and the mess of the couch in front of him and groaned. “We gotta clean up.”

“Good thing this is a pleather couch or else that stain would be a real bitch to get out,” Changbin chuckled, glancing around the room at the strewn about clothes in search of something to wipe up the mess with. His eyes landed on the roll of paper towels he kept on his desk for the frequent times he ate in his studio and subsequently spilled multiple things.

Bin’s mind whirled with various things as he silently stared at the paper towels on the other side of the room -- Hyunjin needs a shirt of some kind since he wiped up cum with his. I should have a spare hoodie in that bag over there. Chan’s probably still up even if no one else is. How are we gonna get past him without looking incredibly suspicious? Oh god, I just came in Hyunjin’s ass! That’s gonna leak out before we can get in the shower at home! Fuck! “Really wish I had a butt plug right now.”

Hyunjin snorted and turned to look at him, “Excuse me?”

“What? I- oh. I said that out loud,” Changbin grinned sheepishly. “It’s just- OK I’m not saying this to be kinky or anything but a butt plug would be convenient right now since I just came in your ass and we have to somehow make it back to the dorms, you know?”

Throwing his head back, Hyunjin laughed warmly, “I think I’ve got that handled, thanks. I’ll be fine.” Changbin nodded, still trying to come up with solutions to his other dilemmas. “Do you have an extra shirt? Mine’s kinda…” Hyunjin trailed off, gesturing at it on the floor next to the couch.

It was Bin’s turn to laugh. “Yeah. Hoodie in the bag over there,” he pointed in its direction before inclining his head towards his desk. “We can use the paper towels to clean up what we can. I’m gonna go grab them so I have to pull out now, OK?”

Hyunjin braced himself and nodded, both boys wincing in oversensitivity as Changbin moved Hyunjin off his lap, soft dick falling to his hip. When Bin returned to the sofa with the paper towels, he couldn’t help but laugh at Hyunjin who was desperately trying not to kneel or put a hand in the mess. “Sorry, sorry!” He rushed to help when the younger boy glared at him.

Once the couch was no longer a disaster and the two were as clean as they could be given the circumstances, they pulled their clothes on and Changbin gathered up his stuff before they headed for the dorms.

“How much you wanna bet Chan ‘knows’ we did something?” Hyunjin joked as they were walking down a stairwell.

Changbin let out a playful, pained noise, “Let’s just hope he’s preoccupied since we both know he won’t be sleeping.” Hyunjin nodded in agreement. “And if he’s not, don’t act suspicious!”

“Easy for you to say!”

Bin spoke up again a few moments later. “Was,” he hesitated, “Was that OK? I mean, was it good for you? Umm…”

Hyunjin took one look at Changbin’s clearly stressed expression and burst out laughing, “Yes, hyung. 10/10 would fuck again.”

The elder tried to hold back his own laugh but ultimately failed, “Oh, uhh, yeah, same.” Hyunjin knocked his hip, still giggling as he hooked their arms together.

When they arrived back at the dorms, much to their chagrin, Chan was waiting in the living room like a dad that was pissed with his teenage children for coming home way past curfew. “I had a feeling you two were up to something,” he squinted at them skeptically. “What did you do?”

“Fuck!” Changbin breathed in annoyance but Hyunjin took it the wrong way.

“Hyung, I thought you said we weren’t going to tell him what we did!”

Changbin felt like he was dying inside.

Chan just stared at the floor, entirely unwilling to make eye contact with either boy.

Hyunjin just giggled, “Oops?”

#stray kids #stray kids changbin #stray kids hyunjin #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #changbin smut #changbin fluff #changbin angst #hyunjin smut #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin angst #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids changbin smut #stray kids changbin fluff #stray kids changbin angst #stray kids hyunjin smut #stray kids hyunjin fluff #stray kids hyunjin angst #kpop smut #kpop fluff #kpop angst #bias/bias wrecker writing

[lettingmydreamsspeak]

The Heart Knows Best : Part VI

Summary: There is nothing like sitting across the table from the one you are interested in, but when you are slated to work with them, how are you going to keep focus?

Pairing: Chris Evans x Female Reader

Warnings: None

Word count: approx. 3300

Author’s Note: This one has been a few months in the making. Life definitely got in the way, in ways I didn’t imagine it would. It feels good to be back though. Catch up with Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, and Part V here before checking out Part VI! 

************************************************************************

You felt time freeze in that moment. Who was going to ruin all of this and wake you up from this dream? Chris stood there just smiling at you.

“Yes, the very Y/n from the book that you read on the video! We had some discussions, and felt that she was the best fit for this project. Scott did remind us that you did specifically love the drawings from that book.”

Still staring into your eyes and holding your hand, Chris responded to Evelyn.

“Yes, this is true. By the way…it is so nice to meet you Y/n!” He had the biggest grin on his face, looking as if he wanted to laugh at the fact that you were standing in front of him. He was in shock, just as much as you were. As for Scott, well he is feeling pretty proud of himself. He wasn’t going to let this little secret out anytime soon.

“It is very nice to meet you as well Chris. Thank you for selecting our publishing firm to help bring your book to life.”

“Well, it’s not just my book. My brother Scott is a part of the writing adventure too.” Chris directed your attention over to the other side of the table.

“How rude of me not to introduce myself. Thank you Chris for the introduction.” Scott stood up from the table and eagerly walked over to greet you not just with a handshake, but with a quick hug.

“It’s very nice to meet you as well Scott!”

You were taken aback. Usually hugs weren’t a traditional way of greeting clients, but his friendly demeanor was welcome. If his hugs were a slight indication of what one from Chris would be like, you looked forward to experiencing it. Chris followed behind Scott, as he returned to the other side of the table, taking a seat across from you. You couldn’t bring yourself to look over at Chris, knowing that you would be distracted. You knew that his eyes would stop the world around you, let alone cause you to fumble over your words. Thankfully Evelyn was taking the lead on this meeting. You were there just to hear the ideas, figure out a timeline to complete this project, and see what Evelyn has in store for you.

“First off, thank you Scott for reaching out to us with the idea of writing this children’s book. When we saw your video explode on social media, I don’t think we ever imagined that this project would happen. I was excited to get your call.”

“Well we need to thank you in return Evelyn, and your team, for being willing to meet with us so quickly to get the ball rolling. The timing couldn’t be more perfect for us to work on this book and I know that we have lots of ideas to comb through. Hopefully we won’t be too much of a pain!”

Everyone around the table had a good laugh at Scott’s comment. You couldn’t help but look up at Chris at that moment as you heard his laugh. A smile grew on his face as your eyes met.

“I don’t want to speak for Chris, but I know this was something that I have always wanted to do. This is a memory that we can make together as brothers.”

“I have to agree with Scott. There is a lot of work ahead of us and I know the both of us are keen on getting this done. I just have one question.”

“I will try my best to answer.” Of course Evelyn would have an answer for Chris. She was the ultimate decision maker who wanted to please her clients. This was not that time to disappoint anyone.

“Is it possible to incorporate a charity component to the sales of this book?”

Of course he asked such a question. It melted your heart. You heard that he was a kind heart guy, and now you believe it from the one simple request he made.

“We sure can. You just let us know who you would like the proceeds to go to, and we will do the rest for you!”

“Thank you Evelyn. That was the most important part to me, to really seal the deal. Scott and I will have some discussion about who we would like to work with. I have a few ideas already, but I want the both of us to be on the same page.”

“I agree with Chris. So how do we move forward, Evelyn?”

“Ultimately, we will work with your schedule.”

“Alright! I know that we probably have to work out some kind of timeline for this to be completed. I have already checked with my agent and my schedule is clear for at least the next three to four weeks. Obviously we have never done this before. Does that seem like a reasonable amount of time?”

“We will work with your schedule. Knowing that you are free for the next few weeks Chris, we will start the project right away. Luckily, we have planned for Y/N to be in town for the duration of the project, so she will be available throughout the process.”

“Oh, you don’t live in Manhattan Y/N?” Even though Scott knew exactly where you live, he wanted to sound a little clueless and curious.

“As much as Manhattan feels like home to me now, Vancouver is my hometown. The team has welcomed me with open arms and Evelyn has been kind enough to set up an office for me here for the duration of my stay.”

“That’s great. Who knows, maybe this city will become your home one day. I hope it’s not all work and no play for you the duration of this trip though. By the way, we are excited that you agreed to come on board with this project, right Chris?” Scott nudged Chris out of a daze that you clearly could see and sense from across the table. 

“Oh…yes! I…I mean we are excited to be working with you. Hopefully Scott doesn’t drive you crazy.”

“Hey!!!” Scott punched Chris is the arm.

The grin on your face grew as you watched these brothers being typical brothers. You could see their bond was strong. It reminded you of your relationship with your brother. Gone are the days when you would beat up on each other. You couldn’t help but think of what your brother’s reaction would be if he found out what was happening right now.

“So how about we kick things off tomorrow? Y/N you can meet with Scott and Chris for your initial creative session. I have booked out this conference room for the remainder of the week, so the three of you can start brainstorming. And I will have the contract to you two later today” Your head was spinning as Evelyn proposed the start of the project. You were not prepared to spend every moment with Chris so sudden. Really this was the ideal situation. How was this even possible?

“This sounds great! We will be here at 9am. We will bring the breakfast.” Scott was enthusiastic about the start of this project, but he looked forward to the moment they left the building as he knew his brother was about to burst at the seams. “We thank you again Evelyn. And Y/N, we will see you tomorrow morning. I warn you now; I don’t know how much a morning person my brother is.”

“I will make sure there is lots of coffee to fuel us, most specifically Chris.” 

You found it hard to believe that Chris wasn’t a morning person, considering the early hour that you met him in the park. Who were you to argue with Scott though, as you didn’t want Evelyn to find out about the chance encounter that Chris and you had just a week prior. Everyone stood up and made their way from the table towards the door. Secretly you didn’t want him to leave. You tried to think of something that would stop him and encourage him to stay just a little longer.

“Wait! I should give you both my business card. If you happen to be running late, just let me know!” You handed a card to both Scott and Chris. In your mind, you hoped that Chris would use this as a way to reach out to you, not just for business reasons.

“Good thinking. Thank you Y/N. We will see you tomorrow morning.” Chris’ hand touched yours again as you handed the card over to him, causing the sparks to fly. You brought yourself to look him in the eyes, even though you were intimidated by the smile he still had. He made you smile.

You watched them walk away as the chatter from behind you grew. Just as you turned to return to your spot in the conference room, you see Chris as the end of the hallway turn to see if you were still there. You smiled and lazily waved bye to him. You instantly felt stupid for waving as you wondered how stupid you looked doing it.

************************************************************************

The day flew by and exhaustion set in as you arrived back at your hotel room. After being in meetings with Evelyn all day, you couldn’t wait to tell Haley about what happened. It was the perfect evening to grab take out from the deli around the corner from the hotel, for dinner in bed. You crawled into bed, with the buffet laid out in front of you as you quickly dialed Haley, hoping that she would answer. You needed to process the day, as it still seemed like a dream.

“Why aren’t you out on the town right now?”

“I am not in any state to be out and about tonight?”

“Rough day?” Haley knew exactly what happened today, thanks to the play by play from Scott. She was hoping that you would have told her you were getting ready for some fancy date with Chris, but played dumb by asking if you about your day.

“No? I don’t think I can classify it as that. You are never going to believe what I am about to tell you.”

“Oh?”

“Chris. He is my new client.”

“As in THE Chris?” Good thing Haley could cover up the sarcastic tone in her voice with enthusiasm and shock. She was a really good actress.

“Yes that Chris. Hales, it was so hard to sit across the table from him. I am slated to work with him for the next three to four weeks.”

“This is a dream come true, isn’t it?”

“Yes and no. I don’t know how to deal with this Hales. He is within reach and I am acting like a stupid teenager.”

“Just be yourself Y/N. He is probably in just as much shock as you. I can only imagine that he is sitting in his home or hotel room trying to process everything with his brother.”

“You are right. Wait…..how do you know that his brother is with him?”

Haley needed to cover up the knowledge she had, as Scott has just texted her prior to you calling.

“I follow Scott on Instagram. He posted about being in the city, so I made the assumption that they are hanging out together.”

“Yah, they are both my client. Chris is writing the children’s book with Scott.”

“That will be so much fun! Maybe Scott will make it easier to hang out around Chris. He can lessen the tension between you and Chris.” As Haley continued talking to you, she texted Scott asking him to help you out tomorrow, because she knew you were going to be a nervous wreck.

So, Y/N is going to be a nervous wreck tomorrow. Can you work your magic and ease things a little?

************************************************************************

Chris paced back and forth in the hotel room, scratching at his facial hair. He did this when he was nervous or unsure of things he could not control. His afternoon was occupied with production meetings, which kept his mind from constantly thinking about you. Yet there he was, thinking about you. Scott had just returned from getting take out for the both of them.

“Have you worn out the carpet yet?”

Chris stopped to actually look down to the carpet, wondering if he actually did wear things down.

“Nope, not yet! You realize I am not going to sleep tonight. She has been on my mind all week, and now she is within reach and I don’t know what to do. I feel like a stupid middle school boy that doesn’t know how to talk to his crush!”

“When was the last time you felt like this?”

“Honestly, I don’t think I have ever felt like this.”

“Just be yourself then.”

“But what if she doesn’t reciprocate the feelings that I am having?”

“Just take a chance. I have a good feeling about this.” Just then Scott received a text. Looking at his phone, it was Haley. The two of them hadn’t stopped conversing since the meeting this morning. To distract Chris from the texting, Scott quickly unpacked all the food from the paper bags. “Here, let’s get some food into you.” As he motioned Chris to come get food, he pulled out his phone to read the message from Haley.

So, Y/N is going to be a nervous wreck tomorrow. Can you work your magic and ease things a little?

Scott responded quickly.

I will try my best. Chris is a wreck already. He is worried that Y/N won’t have the same feelings for him. I’ll keep you posted on how it goes. It could be an interesting day. Ps. How the heck are we going to keep this secret up?

************************************************************************

You laid in the massive king size bed, staring at the ceiling. It was shortly after 1:00am and you had given up on the idea that you would get any sleep. You learned to sleep with your phone on the other side of the room, so you couldn’t press snooze on the alarm. As you struggled to sleep, you needed something mindless to help pass the time, and hopefully help you fall into a deep slumber. You crawled out of bed to grab your phone from the desk. You had a couple of notifications for work emails and social media updates from your friends. There was also a text from a number that didn’t look familiar. Unsure of who this text was from, you click to open and read it.

I saw the weather for tomorrow. You might need an umbrella :)

Your heart skipped a beat. The time stamp indicated that he had texted 20 minutes earlier. Clearly Chris was having troubles sleeping as well. You wanted so badly to text him back, but knew that you should keep things professional. You read the text over and over again, like it was the first time you were reading it. You loved that he referenced the first time he met you. You also loved that he was looking out for you.

You typed out a few words in response, but deleted them as quickly as they filled the screen.

It must have been his words that calmed your nerves, as your eyes got heavy reading his message a hundred times over. You eye lids became heavy and the phone fell from your hand onto the pillow beside you.

************************************************************************

Though the hours of sleep were short, you felt energized for the day. You took extra time prepping as you woke before your alarm went off. You were making sure that you were feeling confident and cute. With Chris’ recommendation running through your mind all morning, you looked out the window and saw that rain started to fall. You brought the umbrella that he had given you, on the rare chance that you would run into him and give it back. You didn’t want to give it back though. You saw this as a memento from the day you met him. You checked the time on your phone to make sure that you were still on time. His text from the night before almost haunted you. Now was maybe the time to text him back.

Thanks for the heads up. Does this mean I need to return it to you? See you soon! Ps. How much coffee will you require this morning? ;)

With that response, it was probably about that time that you should head out to make that coffee that you promised. As you ran out the door with the umbrella in hand, you gave yourself one last once over in the mirror to make sure that you were looking as good as you were feeling.

“Guess what Y/n, this is no longer a dream. You got this.”

************************************************************************

Chris admittedly was not typically a morning person. Today was a different day. He was up before his alarm went off. He had finished up all his emails before Scott even woke up. His thoughts of Y/N did this to him. He was anticipating the moment he would get to see her again. He also had to make a conscience effort not to check his phone every two minutes to see if she has responded to his message from the night before. For a moment he had second guessed himself and even sending a message at all, especially that late at night. 

Noticing that his brother was still sound asleep, he grabbed a pillow from his bed and flung it at his head, in hopes that it would startle him awake.

“Get up! We are going to be late!” Chris lied in that moment just to see what Scott’s reaction would be.

“Lies. My alarm hasn’t gone off yet. Now f*** off.”

“Good morning to you too. To let enjoy your beauty sleep, I will go and pick up the breakfast we promised to take to the office.”

“Okamph donmmph forgmph frugmph.” Scott’s response was muffled by the pillows that he covered his head with, in anger that his brother thought it was a good idea to wake him up.

“Ahhh, yes. I completely understood that. See you at the office.”

Chris had some eagerness in his step, as he grabbed his messenger bag and ran out the door to catch the elevator. He anticipated seeing Y/N, so much so that there seemed to be a permanent smile on his face. As the door slide open on the elevator to welcome him on, a young family with two small boys stared at him as their jaws dropped open.

“Good morning crew!” As he entered the elevator he approached the young boys and gave them both a high five. He was even beginning to question his own enthusiasm first thing in the morning. As they arrived to the lobby, the younger of the two boys used great confidence to ask Chris for a photo. This kid pulled at his heart strings that he couldn’t resist being able to fulfill such a request. Just as the three of them got into place to take the photo, Chris looked up to see a woman walking through the lobby, clearly on a mission to get somewhere. His heart stopped for a moment and he tried to remain focused on taking this photo. He was pretty sure that it was Y/N heading out the revolving door. He wanted to chase after her, but did want to break the hearts of the boys. As they finished up the photo and went on their way, Chris was quick to run out the lobby to see if he could see Y/N. She was nowhere to be seen, especially in the sea of umbrellas covering the people rushing off to work.

“Why did I have to have a black umbrella?” He stood there staring down the sea of black umbrellas, with a bit of disappointment. As everyone rushed by him on the sidewalk, Chris grabbed his phone to see that he missed a text from her.

Thanks for the heads up. Does this mean I need to return it to you? See you soon! Ps. How much coffee will you require this morning? ;)

Of course his smile grew when he read her response. 

Keep it! It’s my gift to you. Too bad I didn’t buy a replacement though...I might need a towel along with a very large cup of coffee when I get to the office. See you soon!

As he pressed send on his response, the rain suddenly started to come down a little heavier. In that moment though, he didn’t mind one bit. A little bit of rain wasn’t going to ruin his day.

#Chris Evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x y/n

[lasting-inkpressions]

I Put A Spell On You (Because You’re Mine) [2/11]

Summary: Denali is in love with her very much straight best friend, but a break up later and one drunken night together changes everything.

Note: Definitely NSFW.

Prefer reading it on AO3?

“Rosie Rosie Rosie.”

Denali chanted her name repeatedly as Rosé continued pumping her fingers into her, her head thrashing against the pillow as she whimpered. She watched Denali unravel beneath her ministrations, marvelling at how she looked even more beautiful when she was consumed in ecstasy. Pushing herself up, her fingers never stopping, she pressed her mouth to Denali’s, groaning when she felt the other woman’s mouth open, allowing her to sweep her tongue in. Rosé curled her fingers and Denali’s hips jerked, head turning and disengaging from Rosé’s lips with a sob.

“So beautiful.”

Rosé sucked a new mark on Denali’s jaw, trailing kisses down her neck as she moaned her name louder.

“Rosie, Rosie…”

Rosé grinned, pressing her face against Denali’s neck.

“Wake up Rosie!”

Rosé’s eyes flew open and she shot up, panting hard.

Fuck, it was just a dream.

And it wasn’t the first time Rosé had dreamed of Denali in that way either. Sighing, she tossed back her covers and got out of bed, rubbing her face in frustration. She left her bedroom and walked over to the kitchen, deciding that some water was what she needed to cool her off.

“Rosie?”

Stopping, Rosé registered Denali sitting cross legged in the middle of the pink fur rug in the living room, with her notebook opened and records with post its stuck on them scattered about on the ground. How on earth had Rosé not noticed her earlier?

“Nali? What are you doing up so late?”

“Just working on some music and choreography ideas. Are you okay? You look a little flushed.”

Rosé swallowed and shrugged as she retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge. “Just had a nightmare, that’s all.” Nightmare was definitely not the right word, but she couldn’t exactly tell her best friend that she had been having vivid dreams of fucking her for the past week now, could she? Walking back out to Denali, she saw her scooting over on the rug and patting the space on her right. Hesitating for a second, Rosé moved over and sat next to her, taking a drink of water. Setting the bottle down, she turned to find Denali staring at her mouth.

“Denali?”

The younger woman blinked and cleared her throat, her cheeks tinged pink for a moment before stuttering. “Yeah, so I’m just brainstorming for my choreography classes. Was thinking of maybe finding some new tracks, or at least less mainstream ones. Have to keep things fresh while educating the people with good music, right?”

Rosé chuckled. “That’s my Nali, always educating the masses.” She looked over the post its stuck on the records, trying to make sense of them when Denali leaned over, reaching for the record on Rosé’s right. Rosé froze, hit by Denali’s scent and struggled not to react to her hair brushing against her bare thigh, assaulted by the images of her latest dream, of Denali writhing beneath her, moaning her name over and over again. Rosé took a deep breath and clenched her fist, forcing herself not to think about it.

“Check out this record I managed to find the other day.” Blinking back to reality, she looked at Denali and then the album that she was holding out. Taking it out of her hands, she flipped it over and scanned the track list as Denali rambled on, then looked back at Denali’s bright face.

Rosé liked moments like these, when Denali was talking about work. She always admired how Denali injected so much life and passion into her dance, and listening to her talk about it was always a breath of fresh air. Denali’s eyes were bright and alive, lips stretched into a big smile and her dimples were out in full force. Her hands were moving in tandem as she spoke, pointing to the different records she had laid around her as she explained her thought process. One of her hands moved to rest on Rosé’s knee and suddenly Rosé was hyper aware of how warm her hand was on her skin. Biting the inside of her cheek and fighting the urge to hold it, Rosé nodded along, until she noticed Denali was starting to yawn. She looked over at the clock and noted that it was close to 3am when she felt a weight on her shoulder. Peering to her left, Denali smiled sleepily at her as she leaned against her. Rosé smiled back, patting her head.

“Looks like it’s time for someone to go to bed.” Shaking her head and whining, Denali burrowed into her shoulder. “Not yet, don’t wanna. Just wanna sit with you for a while.” Smiling fondly at the sleepy Denali, Rosé wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, letting her rest at her side for a while. They sat in silence, Rosé breathing in Denali’s scent and enjoying the feel of having the younger woman against her as she rubbed soothing circles on her waist.

It wasn’t too long before Rosé heard soft little snores and noticed Denali had fallen asleep. Deciding against waking her, Rosé carefully picked Denali up and carried her to her bedroom.

Gently tucking the young woman in, Rosé sat on the bed, watching over Denali for a bit. She looked more innocent in the moonlight, a contrast to her lively self when she was awake, her features soft and peaceful. Rosé reached out, wanting to stroke Denali on the cheek, but stopped herself just an inch away. Retracting her hand and sighing, Rosé instead pulled the blanket up and left Denali’s room for her own, hoping to be able to have a more restful sleep this time.

———————

It was one of those rare days where Denali had some time off where there were no classes that day, and she had decided to take the time to do some house cleaning. It wasn’t that Rosé and her were messy, it was just that sometimes their schedules were so packed that they didn’t have the time to actually tidy up the house. Thankfully, the only class she had that day had been a private one that had been cancelled due to a conflict in her student’s schedule.

After mooching about on her bed in the morning, she had gone through her catalogue of records and set a random one she had to play on the player in the living room, setting the volume to be loud enough to be heard throughout the house, but not too loud to disturb the neighbours. Dressed in nothing but a tie dye crop top and denim shorts, hair pulled into messy bun, Denali whisked around the house, starting with the living room.

When she had first moved in with her original roommate, the living room had been generic, just a typical white washed one with the basic amenities. Once her roommate had moved out, she had slowly personalised it with a beanbag, moved her record player out from her bedroom with a small shelf of her record collection and hung a few of her favourite pictures on the walls. Denali hadn’t really been keen about finding another roommate and had been stalling on that. She had enjoyed having the place to herself, but she knew that she wouldn’t be able to handle paying the rent on her own for long. When Rosé had broken up with her boyfriend and needed a place to stay, Denali was more than happy to have her best friend as her roommate.

When Rosé had moved in, the living room had reflected that. The photos on the walls now included Rosé’s pictures, a pink fur rug was thrown next to the beanbag, a Nintendo Switch set up by the television and her own records were mixed in with Denali’s collection. It was a lot cosier now, not as cold and impersonal as it once was. It wasn’t that Denali’s old roommate had been boring, it was just that they never really got to know each other, so the relationship had been nothing but cordial, a necessity. With Rosé, the apartment seemed to liven up more, with both their personalities touching the whole place.

Denali sat in front of the shelf of records and started sorting through the ones that were strewn about on the floor. She honestly loved the fact that both their things had mixed so well together, their aesthetics and tastes similar. Even their interests were pretty similar. There were days where the both of them would just play a random record and dance about just because they could, or they would push the furniture to the sides to do some yoga, which would inevitably end up with Rosé grunting in frustration for the harder poses and Denali laughing at the faces that she’d make.

Sliding the last record into the shelf, she moved on to tidy up the rest of the room, humming as her mind began to wander back to her best friend.

Lately, Denali had noticed that Rosé was acting a little off, and she couldn’t exactly pinpoint when the change had started. It wasn’t glaringly obvious, but somehow she seemed to be treating Denali differently.

It had been subtle at first, just catching Rosé looking at her every now and then, and every time she caught her, Rosé would just turn away and carry on with whatever she was doing. And then there were the increased number of casual touches, fingers grazing against hers when taking something from her, brushing against her side if she happened to walk past her, sitting closer to her on the couch, their hands bumping together when they walked side by side. If she hadn’t known any better, Denali would think that this was in reaction to the night they slept together, but it seemed impossible since it had been more than a month ago and the slight change in her behaviour was more recent. Besides, Rosé seemed to have forgotten all about it and had never brought up their time together.

Then again, neither did Denali. As much as she had treasured that night, she had buried it deep inside her, not wanting to do anything to jeopardise their friendship.

Just like how she would never let Rosé know her true feelings for her.

Hours later, Denali had finished tidying up their shared quarters and was finishing up with the kitchen. She was getting tired and her skin felt grimy, but she felt accomplished with how much tidier the house was. She’d even tossed the dirty laundry into the wash, and the dryer was now humming happily with the load of clean clothes, the smell of fresh laundry detergent permeating through the house.

Denali was putting the dried dishes away in the kitchen shelves when she heard the sound of the front door opening.

“Honey, I’m home!” Rosé playful voice echoed in the house and Denali laughed. “Welcome home Rosie! Notice anything different about the house?”

She grabbed the last cup to put it away and was eyeing the last bit of space on a higher shelf when she heard rustling and footsteps coming up behind her. The footsteps stopped just as she tiptoed and stretched upwards to push the cup into place when she felt a hand on the bare skin of her back to support her and another hand guiding her own to slide it in. Smiling, she turned around to thank Rosé but the words died on her lips when she was met with smouldering eyes. Denali inhaled sharply as Rosé took a step forward and crowded into her space. She noticed Rosé’s eyes raking her figure, lingering at the swell of her chest before settling on her slightly parted mouth. Licking her lips and swallowing the lump in her throat, Denali whispered.

“Rosé?”

As if snapping out of a trance, Rosé took a step back and cleared her throat, then smiled at Denali. “Someone did a bit of house cleaning I see.”

Blinking at the lightning quick change, Denali nodded slowly. “Yeah, I even did the laundry.” Nodding back at her, Rosé seemed to think for a second before dropping a quick peck on Denali’s cheek. “Thank you, Nali. What do you want to order in for dinner? I’ll pay since you cleaned.”

Stunned, Denali watched Rosé as she left the kitchen, her mind wandering back to how oddly Rosé had been acting lately. Another thing to add to the growing list in her head.

“You might want to take a shower first though, you don’t smell as clean as this house right now.”

Sputtering at Rosé’s comment, Denali abandoned her train of thought as she chased after Rosé with an indignant, “Hey!”.

———————

Rosé didn’t know why, but lately she felt as if her control was slipping and she was beginning to act more impulsively than usual when she was around Denali. Everything the younger woman did seemed to taunt her.

When Rosé had gotten home the other day and entered the kitchen, her breath had been knocked out of her when she saw Denali tip toeing and stretching up to put a cup away on the kitchen shelf, the smooth curve of her back exposed. The next thing Rosé knew, she had her hand cradling the small of Denali’s back and her hand covered hers, supporting her. When Denali had turned around, Rosé couldn’t stop herself from getting closer, desire clouding her mind as she took in Denali’s form. The crop top she wore revealed a toned midriff, the swell of her chest barely covered and as her eyes travelled up, her heart stuttered at the pink that dusted Denali’s cheeks, slightly parted lips and loose dark strands falling around her face.

If Denali hadn’t said her name, Rosé didn’t know what she would have done then and there.

Now here she was, knocking back a few drinks at the bar with some of her friends. She knew alcohol had been the root of her problems the last time, but Rosé needed something to distract her from the object of her desires dancing in the middle of the club. Denali was her best friend, she shouldn’t be lusting after her the way that she was right now. It was just so wrong on so many levels.

Ordering another vodka shot, she knocked it back and turned back to the dance floor, her eyes automatically drawn to Denali. She gripped the shot glass in her hand as the colourful neon lights lit her up, her moves fluid as she danced, leaving many staring at her in awe, Rosé included.

“Looks like someone’s got it bad for her bestie.”

She turned to see Gottmik watching her, eyebrow raised.

“What?”

“I meant you. You haven’t stopped staring at Denali since she went off to dance with the others.” Scoffing at the shorter boy, Rosé discarded the shot glass on the counter, resisting the urge to order another.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Gottmik shrugged at her reply. “I wouldn’t blame you, the girl’s gorge. I’d go for her if she wasn’t clearly interested in only women.”

Rosé snorted and turned back to look at Denali just as she spun around. The younger woman spotted Rosé looking her way and grinned, waving her over. A part of her wanted to stay away, but the need to be close to Denali outweighed that and soon she found herself going towards the other girl, leaving Gottmik with the others.

The music thumped rhythmically around her as she joined Denali on the dance floor, Olivia and Joey not too far away.

“Hey angel.”

“Hey Rosie.”

Denali took hold of Rosé’s hand and playfully tugged her closer, causing Rosé to laugh and spin her around by the hand in return. The two of them danced to the music, bodies moving in sync. There were times when others tried to intrude, but the two would simply brush them off, not wanting anyone else to join in their small happy bubble. It wasn’t long before the alcohol in Rosé’s system started to take effect, and she began to regret her decision to have those last few shots. As the night wore on, more people started joining the dance floor, forcing her and Denali to dance even closer.

The fog in her mind started to increase the closer she got to Denali, and soon she found herself more and more enamoured by the woman practically dancing in her arms, her hold on Denali slowly tightening, pulling her closer than necessary. They younger woman hadn’t registered their intimate proximity and instead was happy to carry on dancing with her, smiling up at her with wide innocent brown eyes, and Rosé felt the control she held onto so tightly slipping even more. Before she could do anything she would regret, she quickly excused herself and left Denali on the dance floor.

Pushing her way out of the crush of bodies, she exited the club and made her way to the side, her mind racing with too many thoughts. She leaned against the brick wall, breathing heavily as she tried to reign it in.

What was wrong with her? Just one night together with Denali, and suddenly she couldn’t stop thinking about her. It had gone way past unhealthy and bordered on obsession, and she didn’t know what to do with herself. She’d lost count of the number of times she had wanted to drag Denali to her, to kiss and touch her all over, to completely devour her whole until there was nothing left. Denali didn’t even need to do anything, and Rosé was panting after her. She couldn’t understand herself. How could she go from being in a relationship, with a boyfriend, to wanting her best friend?

Her very much female best friend?

“Rosie?”

Rosé shut her eyes at her familiar voice. Denali was the last person she wanted to see right now.

“Are you okay? You don’t look so good.”

She felt a gentle hand on her cheek, and she opened her eyes to see Denali staring back at her in concern, feeling herself drown in warm brown eyes.

Beautiful warm brown eyes.

Denali came closer, pressing her forehead against Rosé’s, and she had to bite back a groan. Denali was too close, and Rosé’s tenuous control was fraying.

“You feel a little warm, do you want to go back?” Not trusting herself to speak, Rosé nodded in response and to her relief, Denali pulled back. The relief was short lived though as Denali took her hand and pulled her to the road to catch a cab.

Suddenly all her focus was on that one point of contact, and Rosé couldn’t help but notice how well their hands fit together. Years of being friends and casual hand holding, and only now did she notice how soft and warm her hands were, almost petite against her own strong ones. She was pulled out of her daze as Denali tugged her into the backseat of a cab she had managed to hail. Denali rattled off their address to the driver then pulled Rosé to her side, resting the older woman against her shoulder and hummed to her, never once letting go of her hand and completely oblivious to the effect she had on Rosé. In the small cab with no where to run, Rosé was getting more and more intoxicated with Denali’s scent and being, the soft hum of her voice, the warm soothing touch of her hand, the press of their thighs together.

It was too much.

The fog in her mind got heavier and she lost track of the time between getting into the cab and reaching home, because the next thing she knew was Denali was dropping her off on her bed, and was moving to leave when she grabbed hold of her hand, not wanting to let go.

“Rosie?”

Denali looked down at Rosé in confusion, and gasped when Rosé pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, slowly pulling the younger woman closer to her as she kissed her way up her fore arm, stopping to nip the skin at the crook of her elbow, before wrapping her arms around her waist, pressing more kisses round her middle and pulling Denali down onto her lap.

Burning hazel eyes met innocent brown ones before Rosé hungrily pulled Denali into a blazing kiss.

———————

There was too much. Too much going on at once. Clothes had been hurriedly pulled off of her, her body pressed down onto the bed as Rosé touched Denali everywhere with her hands and lips.

This wasn’t what she was expecting. She hadn’t expected this again.

At first Denali had tried to protest, smelling the faint scent of alcohol on Rosé’s breath, but her words were simply swallowed by Rosé’s lips. She didn’t fight very hard, her own feelings getting the best of her, the feeling of the woman she had been so in love with all these years finally in her arms. She had tried to forget that fateful night all those weeks ago, and had been mostly successful, but with each kiss and caress from Rosé, she started to unravel. She found herself giving in, letting Rosé do whatever she wanted to her body, until Denali was a shaking mess. She had tried to return the favour, but each attempt was met with more ardent kisses and the feeling of being so utterly consumed.

She felt like she was burning with all the attention Rosé was giving her, all the constant touches and teasing leaving her feeling absolutely wrecked, Rosé seeming to derive her own pleasure from pleasuring her.

Denali panted hard, feeling as if her third orgasm had been yanked out of her. She felt absolutely boneless, her bare skin damp with sweat from the exertion. Barely seconds later, she felt fingers slide back into her and she gasped, the feeling of curling fingers too much on her sensitive walls. She weakly tried to push the hand away but stopped when she felt a strong hand push down against her left hip. Denali looked down and whimpered when her glassy brown eyes met burning hazel ones. Shaking her head as tears started forming, she tried to push the hand away again. “Too much.” She gasped. “Rosie please, it’s too much.”

Denali tossed her head back with a ragged moan when the pressure increased, Rosé’s fingers relentless.

“Just one more, baby. Please? For me?”

It was just getting too much, the overstimulation, the tangy sweet scent of sweat and vanilla, Rosé’s very being enveloping her completely. Denali felt like she was going to combust, her senses overloaded. She wanted to say no, wanted to stop to recover, but with how Rosé was looking at her, worshipping her body, her own feelings of longing for the older woman overriding all reason, she gave in, nodding weakly in consent. Rosé smirked, the hand that had been holding down Denali’s hip wandered down to join her other hand as she pressed her thumb against the sensitive bundle of nerves, before pulling her fingers out, spreading Denali open with both hands and pushing her tongue in where her fingers had just been.

Denali nearly screamed, having to bite at the back of her hand to muffle it as she felt Rosé lapping at her walls, fingers teasing the bundle of nerves and sliding in to stimulate her even more.

It was too much. Too much all at once, as she felt Rosé continue to absolutely wreck her, alternating between her fingers and her tongue, face buried between her legs. Denali buried her fingers in Rosé’s pink hair, tugging her up and she heard her groan, pulling away, face shiny with her slick, pupils completely blown. She swooped back down and kissed Denali deeply, one hand palming her left breast while her other hand never left her core. It wasn’t long before she felt her walls clench around Rosé’s fingers, hips jerking as Denali came undone with a sharp cry. Rosé let her ride it out, continuing to stroke her through the aftershocks until Denali whimpered at her to stop, only then did she pull her fingers away, massaging her sides as she cooed at how good Denali had been.

They younger woman’s eyes were glazed over, her breathing shallow as she felt herself slowly recovering from her back to back releases. She faintly registered Rosé leaving the room and returning moments later, and felt herself being wiped down with a damp cloth. Finally coming down from her high just as Rosé was done cleaning the sweat and slick off of her, Rosé carefully manoeuvred Denali into her arms, spooning her. She wrapped the younger woman in her arms, pressing soft kisses to the back of her neck and murmured quiet words of praise as she traced mindless patterns on her hipbone, letting Denali finally rest and drift off to sleep.

———————

So... That happened. It's a lot. A lot more than I expected.

Now let me go hide my face in the sand as I question my life decisions.

#rosenali #rpdr fic #i put a spell on you fic #inkpression writes

[kpop-zone]

Playing with Fire

If you play with fire, you’re gonna get burnt. You knew that. But what if four gorgeous girls fought for your affection at the same time? Would you bring yourself to safety or get singed by the flames?

Word Count: 1,943

Introduction

„Y/N! The girls are here!”

Nervously you looked in the mirror, tugging on your shirt one last time, before taking a deep breath to calm your nerves.

You had been working for YG entertainment for years. Doing the dullest duties to work yourself up on the corporate ladder. But your plan had worked. Today was your first day as a producer and the first group, you would be working with, was none other than Blackpink. When you had received the news, you almost kissed your superior in joy. Blackpink was on top of their game and producing for them would be a huge step in your career. Plus, you really admired their previous songs. You were looking forward to getting to know them and working with them.

“You’ve got this.”

You said to your reflection in the mirror, before stepping into the studio.

The four girls had their backs turned to you, talking to Teddy, the other producer working on this album. You were put by his side this time to breathe new life into Blackpink’s songs. Awkwardly, you cleared your throat to get their attention and when they turned around, your breath hitched in your throat. You had known that they were beautiful, but seeing them up close, made your brain freeze. Working in the music industry for years now, you had thought that you didn’t get starstruck anymore. But apparently you had been wrong.

“Guys this is Y/N. We’re going to produce your new album all together.”

Teddy introduced you and you stayed glued to the spot, but luckily the girls came closer to greet you.

“Hi, Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

Chaeyoung was the first one to greet you, bowing to you with a soft smile playing on her lips.

You were glad that you had to bow, too, otherwise you probably would have stared at her cute dimples way too long.

Jennie was the next one to greet you, followed by Lisa and finally Jisoo.

“We’re looking forward to working with you.”

The latter stated and you knew that it was pleasantry, but you wondered if you had just imagined her gaze lingering longer on you than necessary.

Quickly banishing that thought from your head, you smiled politely.

“So am I. It’s a true honor to be allowed to work with you.”

All of you took a last bow before turning your attention to Teddy that started to introduce the rest of the team consisting of several songwriters and composers.

You scooted a little closer to be able to hear his instructions and ended up standing directly behind Jennie. You could smell the scent of her perfume and you couldn’t help to check out her petite figure. Suddenly, however, she turned her head, directly looking at you and you snapped your gaze up, hoping that she hadn’t caught you staring. Your heart beat like crazy. But Jennie smiled at you softly before fixing her eyes to the front again, making you exhale the breath that had been caught in your throat.

“This album is going to be big. It’s going to be the first full album, so we’re going to work on it for one whole year.”

Finally being able to ignore the rapid beating of your heart, you were actually able to listen to Teddy.

You definitely had to pull yourself together. One year was way too long to get violent heart palpitations every time the girls were around you. You had to focus. This could be the start of a new life. If you managed to make this album succeed, you could be the most sought-after producer in the Kpop industry. Not to mention that you would also be the youngest. It was time to turn off your heart and to delve your whole head into this instead.

The clapping of the whole team pulled you out of your world of thought. Politely you joined in, pretending like you had listened to every word of your colleague. It was showtime. No more distractions. You had to fight hard to get here, you wouldn’t temper with this chance recklessly.

“Hey Y/N.”

You were about to talk with Teddy, when Lisa’s voice suddenly appeared out of nowhere from directly beside you and you jumped in surprise.

When you looked at her, she nervously fidgeted with her fingers, shyly searching for your eyes.

“We’re going out for lunch later. Do you want to join us?”

She vaguely pointed at her group members and you gulped.

You weren’t here for fun, you told yourself in your head. You were here to make your leap into the world of the rich and famous. There was no way that you could accept this offer.

“I’d love to.”

You heard yourself say instead, making you curse yourself inwardly. Your impulse control was definitely zero, which could become a serious problem in the next year. You had to find a way to stay focused.

A wide grin appeared on Lisa’s face and you almost sighted at the view. How could a simple smile light up a whole room?

“Great! We’re going to get to work then and get you later.”

Lisa said cheerily, gifting you with her smile a little longer before turning around and leaving.

This year was going to be fun if you kept being a mess whenever they talked to you.

You were supposed to guide them through the process of producing this album, not the other way around. There were a lot of people that expected a great deal from you. You had to satisfy them, otherwise, your career could be over. Therefore, you started to get to work, like Lisa had suggested.

Teddy and you sat together, to discuss your ideas and wishes for the album with the rest of the composers and song writers. After two hours of intense brainstorming, everyone was in desperate need for a break, right in time with Lisa sticking her head in the door. She smiled at you cheekily and you cleared your throat to grab the attention of your colleagues.

“I think, it’s time for lunch. How about we meet here in an hour again?”

You asked everybody around and were instantly met with grateful nodding from everyone. Therefore, you ended the meeting at this point before grabbing your jacket and slipping out the door.

Outside, all four members of Blackpink were waiting for you.

“Should we invite the rest of the staff as well?”

You asked sheepishly because you felt weird to be the only one going out with the girls.

“No, it’s fine. After all you are the one, we’ll spend most time with alongside Teddy. And we know Teddy already, but there is so much to figure out about you.”

Jisoo explained confidently and you felt your heartbeat fasten up at her remark.

It sounded like you were awaiting an interrogation that you were definitely not prepared for. What kind of meetup was this? Was it a business lunch to test your abilities as a producer? Was it a casual lunch between some acquaintances? Or did they want to take this relationship to a level beyond work?

Therefore, you didn’t know how to behave on the short way to the restaurant by foot. Should you walk next to them to demonstrate that you were easy-going? Or should you walk behind them to show your respect? Inwardly, you cringed at your own behavior. You definitely had to stop overthinking everything.

Chaeyoung apparently sensed your discomfort, casually linking arms with you. You looked down at your interlinked arms with wide eyes. Was this a normal thing to do for colleagues? For Chaeyoung, apparently it was. Her facial features were relaxed, and it didn’t seem to be a big deal for her. Opposing to you. Your heart immediately began to flutter, and your mouth was drier than the Sahara.

“So, Y/N. Have you been working in the industry for long?”

Chaeyoung asked nonchalantly after a while, glancing at you from the side.

You shook your head lowkey to get your brain to work again.

“Um... yeah. I started working at YG entertainment right after graduation.”

You answered a little constrained, catching the attention of Jennie.

“For so long already? How come I’ve never seen you before?”

She questioned you with a furrowed brow.

“Oh I guess, I was too unimportant to catch somebody’s eye.”

You explained honestly, because you had worked in the shadow of others for the longest time.

“Hm I don’t think so. You would have caught my eye, if I had seen you.”

Jennie instantly responded with a wink and you almost stumbled over your own feet.

What did she mean by that?

“Yeah Jennie has a really good memory for faces.”

Lisa added while grabbing your arm that wasn’t occupied by Chaeyoung to link arms with you as well.

They wouldn’t give you a break, would they?

As soon as one heated situation was solved, another popped up out of nowhere.

You definitely had to stop your brain from making mountains out of molehills.

This was nothing more than a friendly meetup to get to know each other better. After all you would probably be spending more time with each other the next year than with anyone else. Producing an album was a long and exhausting process that required a ridiculous amount of work hours and night shifts.

Therefore, you took a deep breath to get a clear head again. Now was not the time to panic. It was time to secure your spot as a permanent producer for Blackpink next to Teddy. You smiled at Lisa and the rest of the way the girls were engrossed in light conversation, giving you the chance to focus again.

When you finally reached the restaurant, you managed to keep your composure. Although you were on edge throughout the whole lunch, it passed without any further incidents. Most of the time, the five of you spent on small talk or on topics that were actually related to work. Nevertheless, you were glad when you went back to the company again. You knew that you wouldn’t see the girls the rest of the day. While you had to start working with Teddy on the details of the concept of the album, the girls had other obligations in the company.

Therefore, the rest of the day flew by and it was already dark when you looked out the window the next time. Stretching your sore limbs after sitting the whole time, you called it a day and said goodbye to Teddy eventually.

When you came home, you changed into comfortable clothes and threw yourself on your couch to watch the new episode of your TV show. But your mind couldn’t focus on the pictures on the screen. Over and over again, it drifted back to the weird occurrences of the day.

Jisoo’s gaze lingering on you. Lisa nervously fidgeting with her fingers when she was around you. Jennie’s wink. And Chaeyoung linking arms with you.

What did this all mean?

You tried to tell yourself that there was nothing to worry about. They were simply touchy people that wanted to create a good working atmosphere. But your gut feeling violently fought that assumption. Therefore, you restlessly tossed in your bed that night, haunted by the faces of four angels that could mean your downfall. You had to keep a clear head, otherwise this chance could turn into your biggest nightmare.

But it was too early to panic, you told yourself. Everyone had their weird days and tomorrow was a new dawn.

Little did you know that this is where the story only began...

#kpop #collab #Dragonaceflamez #Kpop-zone #blackpink #blackpink scenario #blackpink imagines #blackpink reactions #jisoo #jennie #chaeyoung #lalisa #blackpink jisoo #blackpink jennie #blackpink chaeyoung #blackpink lalisa

[disruptedvice]

Lead the way (Modern setting/NASA interns AU)

Summary: “I think my parents had a little something different in mind when they named me than doing math with my life.”

Or Thor and Valkyrie are both NASA interns pulling an all nighter on the project they're working on together, and bonding and flirting happens (not necessarily in that order)

Also, Valkyrie’s a mechanical engineer who picked Thor as her partner cause boy’s got some drawing skills for these plans they’re drafting up, so if that sounds like something you’d be into...

AO3 Link

___________

Lead the way ___________

“I didn't know they let design students in this program,” she said, looking over at him, no judgement in her tone, just… something like a idle curiosity. It was late. Seriously late. There was something about being so utterly exhausted that made her more open to conversation that she normally would have avoided.

Usually she avoided small talk with the other interns, much preferring to focus on the task at hand than bonding over student loan debt and shared misery of a grueling, intensive program. At least it was a paid internship. And she had to work her ass off to become a better applicant than the hundreds, if not thousands of applications the program received. The NASA internship was highly competitive, but now she was here.

And fucking exhausted.

There was something so cool about being in the observatory this late at night though. That's probably what had her in such a good mood. She was tired as hell, much more tired than cramming for even the most intensive finals, but she was exhausted and satisfied.

The was almost something otherworldly about the atmosphere, being alone this late at night, this whole section absolutely deserted, like maybe it was haunted or something, which was fucking awesome. There was something so creepy about being in this building in the middle of the night when no one was around that made her want to go explore all the other dark rooms and twists and turns and halls she had never been down before. It totally had that haunted vibe at night. Even the observatory here, the single lamp illuminating the table, casting shadows on the walls around them. Totally spooky atmosphere.

Maybe that was just the sleep deprivation talking. Valkyrie made a mental note to look up if anyone had been murdered in the near vicinity, or any conspiracy theories about the facility after she was done for the night.

“Double major,” her sleepy cohort explained, blearily blinking before rubbing his eyes like that would wake him up or something.

She raised a curious eyebrow at him.

Thor was… well, he was something.

Valkyrie still didn't know the interns as much as they seemed to know each other (she wasn't exactly ‘social’, despite the camaraderie of them all being tired interns). She didn't take the time to get to know them, preferring to eat her lunch alone than making small talk with the rest of them.

Thor was definitely the only intern she was even slightly familiar with. Over the past couple weeks they had built up a report and a mutual friendly sorta rivalry that was filled with sarcastic barbs and lots of eye rolls and genuine smiles.

He was surprisingly funny, and had a different way of thinking about things- solutions to problems that made her lower her brows in puzzlement because could that actually work, and then her inevitably being impressed because his work around solution that was just weird and out there in a befuddling sort of way actually did work.

She actually buddied up with him on this project because she had seen his art skills, and if they had to draw up drafts for this new- machine they were making, she definitely wanted him on her team.

As a mechanical engineer, Valkyrie could sketch out a rough plan well enough, but that's where her artistic ability began and ended.

This was the most they'd talked to each other in one sitting. They still didn't know each other all that well. Their relationship was more built upon sharing a similar sense of humor and trading quips throughout the day than sitting down and actually getting to know each other.

She looked down at the cup in her hands- he knew her well enough to know how she preferred to take her caffeine, brought her this huge cup of tea for this all nighter they were pulling. Maybe they actually were friends.

But, as he adjusted the plans with the modifications they were brainstorming a couple of moments ago, she had the bizarre urge to actually ask him a personal question. And she actually followed through on it.

He'd answered that he was a design student when she inquired to his artistic ability (he was clearly talented, and his rough sketches were always next level compared to the other interns), but that actually confused her even more.

She didn't know they let non-STEM field applicants in this program. But double major, that explained it.

“Overachiever,” Valkyrie scoffed with a teasing smile, and Thor chuckled.

“Yeah, maybe a bit,” he conceded, still smiling as he worked.

And that smile of his was a little too cute. How had she never noticed that before? She definitely noticed how his teasing smile was infuriatingly attractive, and how he had a nice, full, resounding laugh, that she liked the way his eyes twinkled when she made a sarcastic comment or quip. And he had a stupid hot smirk that he wore during their verbal sparring matches with each other.

But she'd never noticed how cute his smile was until now. Maybe it was because she'd never seen this one on him before.

With his exhaustion written all over him, the small smile that matched his sleepy expression, somehow he seemed more unguarded than she's ever seen him too- more bare, vulnerable. And this soft, sleepy smile of his was definitely cute.

“So,” she shot him an expectant look (and gave him a light little elbow to his arm). “You not gonna tell me what you’re an actual overachiever in?”

Thor looked confused for a moment, like he didn’t realize he just left her hanging without revealing what his second major was. Left her curious, actually interested in what his answer would be, not just trying to make dreaded small talk with a fellow intern.

“Oh, oh yeah,” he said, seeming a bit sheepish. She couldn’t blame him for forgetting the unspoken rules of human interaction like you don’t just tell your NASA project partner you’re a design major and a something else major and just leave it at that. If exhausted intern was a competition, he might be winning right now.

“Yeah,” Thor mumbled, dragging his hand over his face, like his tired brain still needed time to process the statement. “Yeah, uh, design and astronomy. Astronomy. That’s the second one. Design wasn’t just an art thing though- we did a lot of like, aerodynamics stuff in some of those classes. Like this,” he tapped the plans they had sketched out in front of them, for this projectile that they would theoretically be sending into space.

Valkyrie smiled. “Nerd.”

“Hey!” He whined, like it was something to actually get offended about. “You can’t call me a nerd! You’re a nerd too!”

“Yeah, I know,” she raised her eyebrows, genuinely amused, still waiting for him to get she was being facetious. “It’s called a joke. People do that sometimes.”

Thor’s eyes widened, actually blushing at the realization cause yeah, duh. Then buried his face in his hands, groaning in embarrassment. “Sorry. I am way too damn tired right now.”

“I can tell,” she chuckled. When he still didn’t look up, she nudged him, once and then again. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just fun messing with you right now. We’ll both be lucky if these plans actually make sense in the morning.”

She took another sip from her drink, the one he had so graciously brought her, saying he didn't really do caffeine when she asked him why he only came in carrying one, with nothing nothing sugary or caffeinated to carry him through this all nighter.

She looked at the cup in her hand, how Valkyrie was spelled out in black scribbled sharpie beside her order, and thought it was kinda nice. Even though she’d gotten the same order for herself from the same local coffee shop with the same cups and the same cardboard handle, this was the first time she had seen Valkyrie on one of her cups of tea before. She always just gave her last name for coffee orders. People didn’t ask her if she was ‘making that up’ when she said Thompson when prompted for her name. Didn’t get weird looks like Valkyrie would garner with her chai latte.

It was almost a novel sight, seeing her first name scrawled on the cup Thor brought her this evening. Not an unwelcome one, though. It was kinda nice.

“You want some tea?” She offered, holding it out to him. “I know you said you don’t do caffeine, but it really does make all nighters a bit more bearable.”

Thor eyed her cup, like he was weighing his options, with a calculating and almost suspicious look that made her certain he was doing a cost benefit analysis of whatever pros caffeine had to offer versus whatever reason he avoided it for. He apparently decided just screw it, swiping the precious caffeine from her, and Valkyrie grinned like caffeine was something to be a corrupting influence about.

After taking a drink, Thor suddenly looked down, staring at her cup like it was a wonder. “Man, I have really been missing out,” he murmured. “That is delicious.”

She laughed. “I know. ‘S why I like it so much.”

Thor turned the cup over in his hands, pursing his lips something thoughtful in his focus. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about that,” he said suddenly, still focused on her cup. “Your name, I mean. Valkyrie. Did you pick that, or was it given to you?” He had an oddly sincere look on his face as he fiddled with the cardboard holder, spinning it around the warm drink, and she realized that’s what he was focused on. Those eight letters scrawled out on the side in black ink.

“I mean,” he started again, licking his lips almost nervously, “don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I’m one to talk,” Thor chuckled a bit at his self deprecating jab, since the plight of uncommon names was something they shared. “And your name is so much cooler than mine- I was just wondering if you chose a superhero name for yourself as like a personal decision or like… is there a story behind it?”

“It’s the one on my birth certificate,” she shrugged. “Think my parents expected me to be doing something a bit different with my life than math.”

Her parents were supportive when she took a statistics class and found herself much more interested in calculating test statistics from population parameters and sample means, and from there it was a quick slide into math centered courses and then landing in her university’s mechanical engineering program. She thought she hated math since 5th grade, but found out that wasn’t the case in college, much more interested and engaged in it than any humanities subject she had ever taken or anything her high school math teachers had put before her.

Still, math and engineering were a pretty far cry from mythological warrior maidens

She had a stage in middle school where she tried going by a normal name, just the average identity crisis that all kids with uncommon names went through at some point, especially kids named after mythological figures. But that was when she was 12 years old.

Now she was an adult, and she quite liked her name. She didn’t care to go through the hassle of having to explain it to a barista and answer all their questions every time she ordered a cup of coffee (she was more the get in get out kind of person), but she did like her name. She agreed with his assessment. Valkyrie was a pretty cool name.

She had expected him to laugh at her little math joke, since he was obviously familiar with the historical origins of Valkyrie to call it a superhero name, and all the calculus they had to do in this program was a pretty far cry from a warrior figure. But he didn’t.

“What? You’re literally leading human exploration into space,” he said, pointing down at the project they’ve been working on for the past couple hours. “Celestial bodies and into the cosmos. Don’t think you can get more Valkyrie than that.”

Valkyrie just stared at him for a second. Maybe a couple of seconds.

“What?” Thor asked carefully, like he might have said something wrong, but he wasn’t sure.

She felt the heat rise to her face, and she quickly looked away, focusing on the table instead of the absolutely earnest look in his eyes when he was saying stuff like that.

“Nothing. I just… that’s a nice way of thinking of it,” she mumbled, really having no better way of describing the pleased feeling rising in her chest at his words. ____

Maybe it's the sleep deprivation. Maybe it's the sound of his voice. Maybe it's his smile that's so cute it's doing stuff to her head. Maybe it's how open he is. Maybe it's how there's something entrancing about the way his pencil glides across the paper as he draws out all the modifications according to her specs. Maybe it's how many times she's laughed in the past half hour. Maybe it's the way he looks at her, how it's 3 AM and they're both exhausted, and he's too tired to even attempt to hide how he lights up when she says his name, too tired to not look absolutely taken with her as she talks about thermodynamics and gets really passionate defending how the only B she ever got in her whole college career was from a complete asshole who failed her final project for not following instructions because she found a quicker, more efficient loophole that technically wasn't following the project guidelines.

Maybe it's how he keeps chiming in and making her laugh, how his eyes are so intense it makes her heart flutter, how some of their tired banter has drifted much closer to flirtatious than it ever has before, how she's felt the heat creep up her neck from something he said in a way that wasn't bad at all, how they're both tired out of their mind and just have their guards completely down, just talking and not trying to hide anything, unable to hide anything, and having a genuinely good time together.

Maybe it's a lot of things.

Probably the tired thing. Like 98% of it is being utterly exhausted, because normally she preferred to keep anything with a peer from classes or someone she works with to a strictly platonic level, and would always steer a conversation away from exactly what this felt like it was going to if it even started hinting at this.

Maybe it's because she likes him. She really, really likes him.

Whatever the reason, she broke her informal rule of never so much as entertaining the idea of striking something up with a professional colleague, wouldn't risk it.

Yeah, she's pretty sure it's the tiredness that makes it seem so doable right now, breaking that equilibrium. But she's feeling confident, and he's cute, and she maybe actually really likes Thor, and is pretty sure the feeling is mutual. So she takes the dive.

“Would you tell me if you had been flirting with me this whole time?” Valkyrie asked suddenly.

Thor blinked, still staring down at the table as his face flushed, even the tips of his ears turning red.

“Uh… maybe not this whole time,” he answered, endearingly awkward. He still wasn't looking up, still wasn’t looking at her. “Would you- be okay with that?”

Valkyrie had to bite her tongue and clench her fists to hold back the snort of laughter because that would've been so mean, to laugh at him, but he was just so cute, and did he seriously just ask for permission to flirt with her?

Though she was pretty sure she knew what he was actually asking. If it was… reciprocated, if any advances more overt than subtle flirting would be welcomed on her part. Still, the way he phrased it just made it sound like he was asking her permission to flirt with her which was downright adorable.

Valkyrie took a sip of her chai latte, hiding her smile behind the brim of the cup.

“Yeah, think I'd be pretty okay with you flirting with me a lot more often,” she informed him, a silly sorta happiness on her face that she really wasn't used to letting show. She more went for the brooding looks, tried to put out a don't talk to me vibe because she hated most people and would really like her life to have a lot less human interaction in it than it did. She tried to put out the brooding don't bother me vibe, she wasn't used to making a silly little smile like this in the presence of another person. She found she was pretty okay with that too.

Thor looked up, saw the twinkle of amusement in her eye, just the general- warmth about her, and oh that smile. Yeah, she was definitely okay with him smiling at her like that a hell of a lot more often.

“Duly noted,” he said with a barely suppressed grin, and she actually did snort at that. She couldn't help laughing, and when he laughed too, she didn't really want to help it.

They'd kinda devolved into smiling these ridiculously dorky smiles at each other, but Valkyrie had the presence of mind to remember they still had a project to finish.

“Okay, pretty boy, back to work. We still got a long night ahead of us.”

Thor gasped, “Would you tell me if you were flirting with me the whole time?”

Despite how much he brightened, she had to shoot him down, because no, she had not been flirting with him the whole time.

“Nope, I’m much more overt than that when I’m hitting on someone. Say stuff like ‘pretty boy’,” she smirked, and there was that laugh from him again. That full laugh from the very center of his being that filled her bones with warmth.

Maybe in the morning she’d repay him for the tea and introduce him to all the other caffeinated drinks he’d been missing out on.

____

~Fin~ ____

Author's note: so I was browsing @shittyaus last night and saw their prompt “I, an astronomy major, and you, an engineering major, are working together to design a new type of spaceship in our free time” and then I was up all night writing this

PS. America’s accomplishments in the space race never would’ve happened without the women and women of color working at NASA in the 60s. You know what they called the female mathematicians they employed at NASA? Human computers. Because all the calculations had to be done by hand, and guess who was doing the computations for NASA? I haven’t seen the biopic yet, but I’ve heard it’s good, and you can always read the book Hidden Figures is based off of if you want a good nonfiction read about the black female engineers and mathematicians at NASA from the 1930s-1960s

#thorkyrie #thorkyrie fic #valkyrie #thor #brunnhilde #thor ragnarok #AU #fanfic #MCU fanfiction #tessa thompson #thor x valkyrie #my thor fics #my fic

[hollowedrpg]

CONGRATULATIONS, ROMAN! — You’ve been accepted for the role of Xenophilius Lovegood, with a face claim change to Cody Fern. I was a little worried people would struggle with the vagueness of Xeno’s affliction and how he’s been affected since he was attacked during school, but you wrote it beautifully. I also really enjoyed reading your head canons about his relationship with Pandora, and everything else about Xeno. You really brought his character to life outside of the bio, which is exactly what I’m looking for in an application.

Thank you so much for applying. Please create your account and send in the link, track the right tags, and follow everyone on the follow list. Welcome to Hollowed Souls!

ooc.

name: Roman

age: 26

preferred pronouns: they/them

timezone: EST

activity: medium to high; I’m around to answer messages and plot every day, and am usually able to do at least some replies every other day or so depending on how work is going!

are you applying for more than one character?: not at this time!

how do you feel about your character dying?: I would be comfortable with it as long as it’s discussed and I’d have a chance to pick up another character! The possibility of the death is cool to think about; having a grand ending would be satisfying, especially if it was something that was a long time coming, and contributed to the plot in a big way, which I feel it actually could with Xeno. I’m a sucker for a good slow burn with some angst!

anything else?: (questions, concerns, etc.) I did some assuming on some bits about Pandora and Xeno’s relationship that I’m definitely open to changing or revising if accepted! Also, this has nothing to do with the app, but if missing characters make an appearance later on, I would love to express my enthusiastic interest in seeing Ted Tonks!! I wrote Ted in Port Montrose and I’d LOVE to see what he’s like in this other beautiful AU!!!

ic details.

(cw throughout for ableism, vague mental illness discussion)

full name: Xenophilius Prometheus Lovegood

Xenophilius: from the Greek xenos and philia, respectively meaning strange and love; together, the love of the strange. Klaus and Else Lovegood were never going to choose an average sort of name for their child. Believing in many old practices of the wixen world, upon learning they were pregnant, they sought out a Naming Seer to learn the future of their child, and, therefore, what sort of moniker they would fit. They used what little of their savings they had left from the move for the appointment, as it was an important tradition in Else’s family. The Naming Seer projected a strange life for the child, full of wonder and mysticism, a longing for knowledge and a mind open to the belief of the other that most would reject easily. The Naming Seer suggested Edmund, for the prosperity they saw the child could achieve if encouraged, through academic success. The two laughed, thanked them, and left to do their own research. They came across the word xenophile in one of their very old muggle books about cultures of the world and knew immediately that was the name for their child. If they were going to have an open mind, their name was going to let all who heard it know so.

Prometheus: Greek mythological figure, a titan known for creating man from clay, as well as stealing fire from the gods and gifting it to humanity, starting civilization. Xeno’s parents made this choice very soon after landing on his first name. Klaus had a certain fascination with mythology, and what better than to give her child a name to encourage intelligence and creation at any cost?

Lovegood: As it sounds, a combination of the two English words love and good. This was a surname of the Lovegoods’ own creation upon their immigration to the United Kingdom during the muggle’s World War II. They had no shame in their former surnames, but wanted a blank slate to start over with good fortune. They settled on something to show the simple and true quality of their affections, that their intentions, while some might find them strange, were always good.

date of birth: January 20, 1952

Capricorn-Aquarius cusp

The definition of this contrasting cusp, Xeno is a combination of both signs, hardworking and idealistic, with the ability to view the world in strange ways that few others can, and the intention of opening the minds of those around them. The mind is constantly working, creating brilliant, exciting thoughts and ideas, but the constant flow at times makes him come off as distant or uninterested in the ordinary people and things around him. Speaking with someone born on this cusp can be jarring and intimidating, although intriguing, always prepared to discuss the most outlandish of concepts, but rarely able to stop and process the more mundane, often times forgetting about thinking of what others are feeling.

former hogwarts house: Ravenclaw

There was a brief debate, as Xenophilius approached his eleventh birthday, of whether it would be best to send him to Durmstrang, as that was where both Else and Klaus went, and consequently met each other, but that thought was quickly silenced with a visit from Dumbledore himself, offering a place at Hogwarts for the young prodigy. Xeno researched the schools obsessively during the months this debate was going on, and insisted that he had to be at Hogwarts, because he was clearly a Ravenclaw student. Upon his entrance, the hat barely touched his little blonde head before shouting just that, a self-satisfied grin on the child’s face as he joined his new classmates.

sexuality: demisexual panromantic

For all of his youth, he was much too preoccupied with researching anything that was able to hold his attention for longer than a few minutes to worry about things such as dating and sex. People are not what he truly cares about, as harsh as that sounds, and it takes a great deal for him to feel that sort of attraction to someone. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he is fairly certain part of it has to do with what he saw his parents go through as a child. He can’t remember them ever truly seeming to love each other, despite the stories of their own youths they told him. All he remembers is the shouting and the pain they caused each other, all because of the most mundane problems, as if they had forgotten who they truly were once they had a family. That made him wary of that sort of very human connection, not wanting to lose himself more than he already had. Until things changed, of course…

gender/pronouns: agender + any pronouns (primarily he/him & they/them)

He has no great attachment to any gender at large, and therefore feels the label of something closer to nothing, defying any sort of binary or spectrum, fits him better than anything else could. His being feels unexplainable and it’s something he accepted from an early age. As such, though, he doesn’t truly care what anyone calls him. In fact, a lot of the time he’d rather people just wouldn’t refer to him at all, but that has very little to do with gender.

face claim change: Cody Fern, Jason Ralph, Boyd Holbrook  (If for some reason, Cody Fern isn’t approved anymore and I get accepted, I’d love to brainstorm other alternatives with you before settling on one, as Cody is very much how I envision Xeno!)

more.

1. how do you interpret this character’s personality? how will you play them? include two weaknesses & two strengths.

+ determined, idealistic, brilliant

- aloof, selfish, erratic

Perhaps if life had treated him differently, Xenophilius would be considered one of the greatest minds of his time already. If life had not beaten him into the furthest recess of his mind from the moment he was old enough to understand and question what was going on around him, perhaps that person could have existed, already fully formed, by the ripe age of thirty. But life was not so kind, and even now he can say with certainty that it comes as no real surprise, having studied so much of the world obsessively, researching what he can get his hands on of every possibility that the human mind can dream up to understand the world at large.

At an early age, he retreated into his mind as a form of coping with the outside world, even as the thunderous voices, first of his parents, then of the bullies and naysayers at school, then of everyone, tried to infiltrate his thoughts. Single-minded to the core, focused and determined to solve any question proposed, any long lost mystery left unsolved, it is still so easy for him to fall into weeks at a time of researching furiously, even disappearing for days at a time on his quests for knowledge, once an idea comes to him. Because of this, he was never quite as adept as interpersonal relationships as he might’ve been otherwise, and this only worsened after his accident, when the sounds of the voices became nearly deafening in his mind.

He would much rather spend his time researching whatever concept has caught his interest than interact with his peers, causing him to come off as distant and aloof to many. When he does deign to talk to others for an extended period of time, though, his brilliance does become clear, although so does his erraticism. Enchanted with long lost mysteries, and ideas thought only to be legend and rumor, his speech rambles and raves through dozens of topics by the you’ve caught up with the first. If landing on something he truly does care about, he could speak for hours with supreme eloquence on the matter, although what he cares about and believes in rarely lines up with those around him, and thus is often dismissed as nonsense. He believes wholeheartedly, after all, that consciousness creates and therefore nothing the human mind is able to dream up should be ruled as wholly impossible.

People have always been cruel to him, and he has long ago accepted this as a fact of his life, even if he does do his best to spread good in the form of knowledge. When faced with the negativity, the cruelty, he used to do anything he could to defend himself, including the less refined solutions. He still possesses very little respect for traditional authority, but some of his light, some of the mischief has left him in the years since the fight that left him as he is. Now, it is often times easier to accept that others’ minds aren’t nearly as expanded as his, and they do not wish to be, than to try to argue his correctness. An unwilling audience will not learn, no matter how brilliant of a teacher he might be.

Do not mistake that for him thinking the worst of the world, though. Despite it all, he truly does believe in good, and hopes that one day he can bring the hope that he does feel to others as well by expanding their minds beyond the limitations of the mundane. But he’s convinced himself that he won’t be able to do so as he is now, broken and bent, a shadow of what he could be if not plagued with such a curse.

2. how has the war affected this character, emotionally and otherwise?

Upon waking up in the hospital wing all of those years ago, his mind had become a much darker place. The war was never his, never will be, at least fully, thanks in part to his own blood status, but mostly because of how he feels. It took a long, long time until he realized, truly, what was going on, and then it was only thanks to Pandora that he began to grasp the reality, the gravity of the situation surrounding them.

In the beginning, with only whispers and quiet fights taking place as two sides divided over beliefs, he was unaware, too completely wrapped up in his own quests to set them aside and worry about another battle to fight. After all, in the beginning, he was utterly devoted to finding his own cure, whatever it might take. In a way, Xeno’s selfishness kept him blinded to what was happening, or how he might’ve helped for far longer than it should have.

But then he truly met Pandora, and he fell in love as quickly as he had fallen in love with the pursuit of knowledge to calm his mind. Even without a cure, being with her cleared some of the noise, and he could begin to understand the gravity of what was going on around him. He saw how much the carnage of the war hurt her, saw how deeply and thoroughly she cared for all of these people she didn’t even know, and that is what made him begin thinking more deeply on things.

That is when it began to hurt.

The voices seemed only to grow in volume, overlapping each other, begging for his attention at every turn as he watched his wife become more and more entrenched in a fight that should not have been happening in the first place, in his mind. As the war ragged on, and things grew worse, so did his affliction, as if whatever it was that had caused this was somehow tied to the war itself. That explanation made it feel easier, for him, anyway, even if it made everyone believe he was that much further gone, tying himself to something of such importance.

He retreated further and further into himself, his research falling by the wayside, only Pandora allowed into the true depths of his madness, witnesses the oftentimes nonsensical spurts of morbid inspiration burst from the voices of war in his mind. Among it all, there was, and still is, the underlying desire to do what his wife does, to be able to care so deeply about so many others, but his mind makes it so difficult. He cares about Pandora’s safety above all others’, and those she loves, too, now, but widely is still more concerned about the personal matters first. Still, he tries to help her when he can, would do anything in the world for her if it meant she was happy and at peace, just as she tries to do for him. And perhaps, once he finds his cure, he can do the same for others.

But how could he help now, after all, when he’s so far from whole himself?

3. Where does this character currently stand? with those who wish to hide in godric’s hollow until the war ends, with those who wish to rebuild the order and continue fighting the war, or on neither side? why?

This, all of this, it was not a choice of his own.

He could feel Pandora’s desire to fight, even before the question of what came next was out in the world. And just as it came, so did offer of retreat, of refuge. It was never an offer they could have passed up, no matter how it was spun. Pandora wished to help, to do what she could for those suffering, and prevent any more death from blooming in their midst, and he has always wanted what she wants. His own involvement with the Order had been selfish from the start, anyway, and it was clear that retreating with the Order held the most potential for the expansion of knowledge, the potential of finding a cure, even after all of these years, or even just finding a moment of peace. Just as it was clear that the longer they spent out in the world, amongst the hatred and violence, the worse his condition became, descending further and further from reason.

And so it was not a choice in the first place, and now, here they are, without much choice again.

Stuck in a village full of the memory of death, without a say.

With no personal attachment to the war, and as only an affiliate of the Order, it is hard for him to form a true feeling on what is right for all of them. He has very little desire to stay here for an extended period of time, feels trapped and static without access to the world at large for his research, but the thought of rebuilding to fight is one he’s not certain of either, when the war was never his to start and he feels in no way ready to truly help yet.

When it comes down to it, he would do whatever it is that Pandora believes is for the best for both of them, trusting her more than anyone else in the world, especially as the voices become clearer and he feels himself slipping from sense, even if that meant staying until the war ends.

But he doesn’t feel good here.

It stinks of death, of vile hatred, of curses perhaps even worse than his own. And for the first time, he’s afraid.

It’s strange, in a way, that he hasn’t felt fear like this before, after the countless fights, after waking up and learning he was missing weeks of his life, after being changed beyond his own will because of some sinister magic. Not once before has he felt this fear, but it’s settled square between his shoulders now, twisting a terrible knot of tension, keeping him from finding any true peace here. He’s convinced there’s something here that he’s been searching for. But now that he’s closer, he’s terrified of what he might find, that the answer might be there will never be a cure. That maybe he is mad after all.

4. The voices in Xenophilius’ head have only gotten louder since the war began. How are they now that he’s in Godric’s Hollow? Has anything he heard made sense, or is it just a bunch of gibberish?

There were always voices in his mind, although he had never truly considered them anything to worry about until after the that fateful night when they changed. There were always whispers of unknown sources helping him along with his research, encouraging him to expand his thinking, search out new creatures and potions. Those voices helped create new spells, craft potions no one had dreamt up before, study beasts only thought of in fairy tales.

They’re different now, though, darker, jumbled. It’s rarer that there’s anything clear, so many different voices speaking at once, constantly, but when there is, it’s not as it was, inspiring thoughts and breakthroughs. And they’re all familiar; sometimes he’ll hear his parents, sometimes he’ll hear old schoolmates, Order members.

When he became truly aware of the war, something changed. The voices seemed louder, more persistent, as if determined to hold his attention because of what was going on in the world.

Coming to here, Xeno believed that perhaps being in a place of peace would change that, that it may quiet some of the voices, take the constant dull roar down to a whisper once again, allow him to feel more like himself, allow him to focus on searching for a cure. He was wrong, though.

The voices changed upon his entrance into Godric’s Hollow.

There’s something new there, in the corner of his mind, hidden amongst all of the confusion, the hundreds of voices mixed floating around his mind. It used to be so rare to have a moment of clarity, the voices only working to a crescendo so often. It happens often now, one thought or another winning out, coming to the forefront of his mind in complete clarity and bursting forth into a shock of inspiration.

These bursts of inspiration feel almost close to violent since coming to Godric’s Hollow, taking him over completely, frenzied. He finds himself scribbling in notebook upon notebook madly, frantically flipping through pages of the books they’d brought to their tent from home, muttering to himself as if he may lose the thread of inspiration if he cannot get it out into the world fast enough. It’s exhausting, feeling so much, feeling so out of his own control at times, and he’s certain it has to do with this place.

When they calm again, when he stops from exhaustion, quill drooping in hand, and glances at the pages and pages, it scares him even more. Rarely, now, does what he writes seem to be related to his own research. It seems to be what these voices want, the thoughts made concrete.

He hears them saying names, names of those lost, those gone forever. Hears them telling him to go, then another telling him he must stay, that he is oh, so close to what he needs. He tries his hardest to keep going, but it gets so hard when in the din of voices something so clear rings out, something that seems to mean more.

The most terrifying thing was the first moment he heard Pandora’s voice in his mind, clear as day, the familiar wavering whisper as beautiful as a bird’s song to his ears, one of the first days they had come to Godric’s Hollow. She told him to stay. It shook him to his core, but he hasn’t heard her since, hopes he doesn’t. He hates the thought of his curse touching the most pure thing in his life.

So Xenophilius searches for what they’re trying to lead him to, hoping it is what he needs, that the cure might be at his fingertips, if only he opens his eyes.

extra.

pinterest board!

character tag!

if i were…

if i were a season, i’d be autumn.

if i were a time of day, i’d be dusk.

if i were a place, i’d be a hidden library of forgotten knowledge.

if i were a type of weather, i’d be a thunderstorm.

if i were a scent, i’d be patchouli.

if i were a plant, i’d be a Dirigible plum.

if i were an element, i’d be water.

if i were a color, i’d be bright, warm yellow.

if i were a song, i’d be River by Joni Mitchell

if i were an item of clothing, it’d be a worn, grey duster.

if i were an object, i’d be a moleskin notebook.

if i were one of the seven deadly sins, i’d be pride.

if i were one of the seven heavenly virtues, i’d be diligence.

if i were a god/goddess, i’d be Athena.

on pandora:

He knew. The moment she first treated him in Mungo’s, he knew that he would follow her to the ends of the earth, if she would allow him. It was a strange feeling, not entirely a pleasant one when considering that all his life he had expected never to feel that way about another human being. He wonders how he had missed her at Hogwarts, but then, he had been so entangled in himself, so focused on collecting all the knowledge that he could, that he had hardly made any friends in his own house and year, yet alone others. What mattered is that he had found her now, just in time to keep him from giving up.

After truly meeting Pandora, his single-minded obsession became learning to sign as quickly and proficiently as he could. He wasn’t as fast as he wished he would’ve been, but he learned as best he could, and kept going back to Mungo’s as he learned, an excuse to see her again and talk to her more, especially as he realized that the other healers believed him mad.

She was the first person who truly believed him when he insisted it was the boys’ attack with the dark objects that had caused this, and not a dormant mental illness whose symptoms only appeared after the event. As such, his trust and belief in her was enormous from the beginning, and has not once faltered in the years since.

One of the initial reasons he was so attracted to her was for her pure dedication to a singular cause and the pursuit of knowledge, something he believes in himself. He could see how passionate she was about healing, and how willing she was to do anything to help her patients, not limited to the confines of average healing. He admires her determination and creativity greatly.

The way she cares for people stands in stark contrast to his own ability to do so, which is another reason he loves her so much. He can hardly imagine being so open in caring about others, but he likes to think that she has helped him grow in that regard even slightly. He hopes that she’ll help him grow in that even more, once they’ve found a cure.

If it were not for Pandora, Xeno wholeheartedly believes he would have given up hope of finding a cure, or even peace, years ago. She was able to show him the light in the darkness, and she continues to be that beam of sunlight coming through the clouds of a storm with each passing moment, reminding him that there’s always reason for hope left.

The only times he finds even brief moments of something close to silence is with her. Lying in bed together as they both try to drift into troubled sleep, listening to the steady sound of her breathing, feeling her heat pressed against his, it’s nearly enough to calm the war constantly raging in his mind.

His proposal to her was neither truly romantic or at all dramatic, instead a sort of passing question in the midst of the ever rambling road of his words, his fingers moving just as fast as his lips could, by that time. A question phrased in a way that made it seem more for practicality than it truly was, because he does love her, more greatly than he thought he could ever love one person. A simple it would be easier if we were married, and then the nonchalant production of a ring from his pocket, set on the table in front of her. An amethyst and celestite woven together within a bronze band, charmed to emit a sense of pease and focus, as well as ward off Wrackspurts.

details:

His parents met at Durmstang, and then moved to Berlin, Germany after graduating, working as researchers, of sorts, for a company of like-minded wizards interested in what many would call nontraditional magic. When things began to fall apart in the non-magical world, they made the decision to move to start a family of their own in safety. They settled in London, using up most of their savings to make it there and rent a small flat in Camden.

Despite being a pureblood, Xeno holds none of the beliefs of British pureblood society, in part thanks to be raised by non-British purebloods, but mostly because he can hardly fathom how it is possible to see other humans so darkly. He appreciates what muggles have accomplished without magic, and has even studied much of muggle science and technology out of interest, as well as being interested in proving for them the existence of several of their so-called cryptids.

He has never been able to hold a full time job for long, and stopped trying to do so after years spent in his early twenties trying unsuccessfully in various fields that didn’t truly keep his interest anyway. He would miss days of work without mentioning it, was perpetually late, and rarely actually helped customers with what they actually wanted when in customer service fields. Instead, he earned his money by penning essays and articles sold to various magazines and newspapers on his strange beliefs, as well as selling his research to those who would benefit from it. He dreams of starting his own magazine, if things ever return to normal, if heever finds a cure for his affliction, but right now that task feels impossible given how full his mind is.

He’s started a small garden of strange flora for his and Pandora’s use in Godric’s Hollow. Not much of it is useful to the more ordinary needs of the residents, unless they believe in the oftentimes wild properties Xeno attributes to many of the plants, but he and his wife use many of them for potions and infusions of their own needs, and gladly share if anyone has a desire.

Xenophilius is unable to produce a corporeal Patronus at this time, and has not been able to since waking up in the hospital wing those years ago. Before that, though, his Patronus was an eagle owl.

He didn’t actually seek any healing for what the other students had done to him outside of his own attempts at healing until he was well out of school. As confident as ever, he believed that he could find a cure and do so by himself. When it started interfering not only with his life, but his work, though, he sought out help at Mungo’s. Although most of the healers believed he had gone insane, and most people still do, it was the best decision he made, as it lead him to Pandora.

He hasn’t had any contact with his parents since he graduated from Hogwarts and isn’t certain where they are now, or even if they’re still living. It isn’t that he doesn’t love them, but the childhood that they gave him took too much from him even as they fought to offer him opportunity. He still hears their voices amongst all the others, hears them arguing, only now the anger feels directed at him, not each other.

As well as now being fluent in sign language, Xeno also speaks fluent German, although most of what comes to mind easily now has to do with the cursing that his parents used to do at each other during his childhood.

Not concerned with outward appearances, Xeno very often looks like he rolled directly out of bed and walked into public. While that isn’t usually the case, he could not care less if anyone thinks it is. If he owns a brush for his hair, it has long ago been lost, and many of his clothes are either entirely inappropriate for the occasion at hand, or completely mismatched. There is a method to some of what he wears, of course; the necklaces he always wears, one with a butterbeer cork dangling from it, the other with the symbol of the Deathly Hallows.

#hp rp #rp #marauders rp #lsrpg #roleplay #accepted

[icecoldparadise]

Thankful for a Change

Moxiety, Logince

I know not everywhere celebrates Thanksgiving, but here in Murica we do. So have fluff.

No trigger warnings.

             After the adventure of Halloween, the four men retreated to their own rooms for a much needed recharge period. They still ate meals together and worked on videos with Thomas, but no one was offended when the others kept to themselves for about a week. During that time, Virgil managed to convince himself the events from Halloween (especially between him and Patton) were just the influence of the holiday’s magic and withdrew even more from the others; Logan relished the quiet monotony of scheduling events and reorganizing information; Roman redecorated his room to reflect the new friendship dynamic he and the other sides had established (he refuses to tell anyone how he got pictures of them all in costume); and Patton looked back on the recent memories fondly while excitedly anticipating the next big event. Logan and Patton united first from the break with a common goal in mind: they needed to start planning their Thanksgiving celebration, which required both memories of past successes (and failures) and new ideas for this year. Roman felt them trying to brainstorm new ideas and felt inspiration flare up inside him. The three began planning, not realizing they were unintentionally leaving out the gloomier side. He had never taken part before, and while they would love him to they didn’t expect him to take any interest.

           It came as a surprise to them when he began giving small pointers here and there. Roman managed to find a way to decorate for the underappreciated holiday, and he was in the process of decorating the common room Virgil slinked in on his way to get coffee from the kitchen. He paused, a critical gaze on the prince’s handiwork. It was alright, but there were too many turkeys and the single orange streamer he had put up was haphazardly pinned up. “You should use some yellow and brown streamers, straighten the orange one, and put some of those turkeys in the kitchen.” The anxious side critiqued, his quick low voice startling Roman. The creative side turned to gape at him for a second before stepping back to look at his current progress. “Hmmm,” he began, and Virgil thought he was going to get mad for a moment when he continued, “You know what, System of a Downer, I think you might be right.” Virgil was surprised his opinion was validated and quickly muttered something about “Needing coffee” before disappearing in the kitchen. Logan and Patton were both debating the recipes they had settled on at the kitchen table. Virgil quietly listened as he got his much-needed caffeine fix. “But Logan! It’s a holiday! We should do everything and have lots of food to choose from!” The logical side quirked an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Patton, that’s absurd. Some of these recipes clearly have ingredients none of us like. We shouldn’t use them if no one will like them.” They went back and forth like this, running in circles. Virgil peered over their shoulders and read some of the recipes.

           Logan was right. A few recipes had ingredients such as prunes, spinach, cranberries or cooked broccoli. He scrunched up his nose reading those, but had to admit the rest of the recipe sounded delicious. “Why not just omit those ingredients and either substitute them with something else, or just scrap em entirely and make a modified version of the recipe?” He piped in before he could stop himself. The two stopped midsentence and gaped at him much like Roman did. ‘Ah, shit I ruined everything they probably think I’m annoying I shouldn’t have said—’ Patton beamed up at him. “That’s an excellent idea Virge!” Logan gave a small, stiff smile as well. “Excellent compromise, Virgil. I am quite certain we can work out alternative ingredients while still maintaining the integrity of these dishes.” The anxious side flushed before ducking out to his room, clinging to his coffee mug. His brain raced at the thoughts of them all liking what he suggested, but he couldn’t keep away the thoughts that they may just be trying to be nice while secretly hating what he said. He stayed in his room the next few days.

           At last Thanksgiving arrived and the entire mindscape felt warm and cheery, the scents of maple pancakes and bacon filling each room in a tasty breakfast call. Everyone stumbled into the kitchen to see Patton in a ridiculous turkey-themed apron with “Kiss the cook” stitched on the front. He turned briefly and flashed his characteristic smile beam at the others. “Morning kiddos! Happy Thanksgiving!” They greeted him, lightly teasing him for his apron (“Seriously Patton, it even has tail feathers!” A laugh, “It’s so I can shake a tail feather!” Groans.) Logan began spouting off facts related to the holiday, some of which mortified the fatherly cook, before Roman took mercy on the heart and turned the conversation away from the history of Thanksgiving. “I declare, I think this year I am the most grateful for our epic (if not slightly disasterous) Halloween adventure! It was the best one yet!” The creative side boldly stated, causing some laughter at the memories. “Remember how cute Logan looked as a cat?!” Patton cried out, causing the normally reserved side to blush and scowl slightly. “Oh! Or how those werewolves nearly got us but Virgil saved us?” The laughter turned to a solemn agreement. Logan peered at the flustered boy who was currently stabbing his pancakes with a vengeance. “Yes. I am quite grateful we got out of that alive and in one piece. I am also thankful for Thomas’s renewed interest in academia.” Roman snorted, choking on some orange juice he had just taken a swig of. “Of COURSE you would be, AstronoNerd.” Laughter resumed, and they piled into the living room to watch the Peanuts Thanksgiving episode. When that finished up Logan pulled out a book to read out loud while Patton started on dinner, and Virgil couldn’t help but follow him inside the kitchen.

The anxious one watched as Patton started gathering ingredients, noticing a haphazard measuring system that was mildly terrifying. “P-pat? That’s not how you measure stuff.” The fatherly side peered up, his eyes warming up the way they did on Halloween. “Whatdya mean, kiddo?” Virgil fought down a slight blush and ignored the slight chill that went down his spine. “You’re not… Um, being very precise and that can affect the flavor.” Patton tilted his head, thinking about it, then smiled and offered a apron to the other. “I suppose you’re right! Why don’t you help me out, Virge?” The dark brooding man nodded and quickly got to work. Everything was measured precisely, times were kept exactly in the middle of the suggested times, and food was plated to the detail. The entire time they cracked jokes, commented about how the food looked and smelled, joked about the cream of broccoli and possible effects it could have on Princy… And Virgil felt at peace. He ignored the unnecessary, almost affectionate contact Patton would give randomly throughout the process. He hid his disappointment when the cooking was done and Patton called the others in, not wanting the time between them to be done yet. Roman and Logan came in, looking suspiciously disheveled. Patton appeared blissfully ignorant but Virgil caught the subtle shift in his eyes- an amused warmth that wasn’t quite like how he looked at the anxious side. Virgil smirked, not able to resist a snide remark. “So Princy, I see you were extra Charming while Pat and I slaved away in the kitchen.” The sheer brightness of the red on Roman’s cheeks was worth the disapproving glare from Logan and the gentle chastising he received from Patton; still, he saw the two quietly hold hands under the table later and couldn’t help but feel simultaneously happy for them and a bit jealous of them. He shoved those thoughts down as they all grabbed a plate and loaded it with food. Conversation was light and full of abnormal amount of praise for the food. “I must say, Patton, this food is absolutely out of this world! You’ve outdone yourself this year.” Roman complimented, digging into some stuffing with turkey shredded into it. Patton glanced at Virgil before grinning widely. “Actually, I can’t claim all the credit here. If it weren’t for good ol’ Virge here, I would have added too much of everything all together.” The others looked at the hiding side with a pleasantly surprised expression on their faces. “You can cook, Green Day?!” Virgil buried into his hoodie more but nodded. “I-I learned so that Th-thomas wouldn’t burn the house down or give someone food poisoning.” He muttered, red as a beet. Logan rescued the clearly distressed side. “Well, I for one am grateful you’ve ensured our food is safe for consumption. If you aren’t opposed, I think it would be beneficial for you two to cook together from here on.” Patton and Roman enthusiastically agreed before moving on to spare the poor man from the attention overload. Midbite Patton exclaimed, “You know what I’m grateful for?! I’m thankful for how close we all have gotten and how far we’ve all come!” They all toasted to that, clinking glasses of juice together.

Once dinner was done Logan and Roman volunteered to clean up the dishes since the other two cooked, allowing them to plunk down on the couch in a food coma. Patton had sat close to the anxious side, which Virgil blatantly tried to ignore as his cheeks dusted red. “You haven’t told us what you’re thankful for, Virge.” Patton said softly, forcing the darker side to look at him. He ducked his head a bit. “I’m thankful for you, Pat. You’ve helped pull me out of the darkness, more than the others could.” Patton put an arm around him gently and pulled him into a hug. “Awww shucks kiddo. That’s the nicest thing someone’s ever said to me.” Virgil relaxed into the hug, heart racing a little at the contact. He noticed the moral side was still wearing his “Kiss the Cook” apron. Gathering up his courage, Virgil peered up at Patton. “Pat? Has anyone ever actually kissed you while you were wearing this?” Patton glanced down and chuckled, a surprisingly deep rumble emitting from his chest. “No, I don’t think so. The others aren’t very touchy-feely with me besides occasional hugs.” There was a brief silence as Virgil contemplated his next action carefully. Fuck it. He quickly kissed Patton, surprising the moral side. He was about to pull away when the heart gently stopped him and gave him a soft kiss back. Virgil’s heart fluttered, and they both cuddled together on the couch for the rest of the night.

  @storytellerofuntoldlegends

@justanotherpurplebutterfly @ssides  @thelogicalloganipus @pirate-patton @thatsthat24 @tinysidestrashcaptain @sidewritings @i-love-word-association-games @fandomsandanythingelse

#logince #moxiety #sanders sides #thanksgiving #fanfiction #fluff

[spookysummersmores]

Mind Heist - Chapter 7

Word count: 4,310 (In the words of Grunkle Stan..."HOT BELGIAN WAFFLES!")

Author's note: Ohhh, wow...after two long months of brainstorming, editing, and writing additions to the original...this is it. The final chapter.

I know that, when I posted chapter 6 the other day, I said that there would be TWO more chapters left in the story. And that was originally going to be the case! But chapter 7 felt just...a bit too short to me...? And so I combined chapters 7 and 8 into one and ended up with this...4,000+ word long monster. xP

This one is almost entirely just pure fluff, which is always just...a delight to write. Pines family bonding for life. uwu

Also...stay vigilant. Once it seems like you've reached the end of the chapter...scroll a little further. There's a surprise hidden at the very end...

I'd just like to take the time to thank all of you who have supported Mind Heist - especially @raination and @choc-chip-pancakes - and provided such wonderful feedback. It means the world to both me and my bestie, and you provided me so much motivation and so many smiles throughout this whole process. Much obliged; you're sweethearts, the lot of you. 👍💕💞

The person I'd like to thank most, though, is my partner in crime, @ichipine​. This story originated from summer RP shenanigans between us two. It was you who gave me the go-ahead, it was you that gave me so much cute Mabel dialogue to work with and add onto, and it was you who came up with some of the best dreamscape battle tactics I've ever heard. Without your assistance and friendship, I wouldn't have a complete story. Thanks, big sib. Working with you was a BLAST and a half! ^0^ *MAJOR HUGS*

Well...I guess that's all for now. In terms of future fanfiction, I'll be going solo from now on - unless Kaylee or another good friend ever wants to work with me on a fic again, that is! Until next time...see you later, and I hope you enjoy this final chapter. Stay weird, my friends. ^-^ ❤

(As always, PLEASE do not tag any ships. Thank you.)

Dipper and Mabel were soon jolted out of sleep, and they both gasped as they bolted upright in unison. At long last, both of them were safe and sound in the attic of the good old Mystery Shack, and even THAT seemed brighter all of a sudden. Things were finally NORMAL again.

Well...okay, sort of normal.

Dipper immediately began coughing. "Ugh...well...I certainly didn't miss this..." he said hoarsely, sniffling.

Oh, God...it felt as though his head had been hit with a jackhammer. He hadn't had the time to worry about the effects of a mindscape war with a demon on a summer cold for long while in said mindscape. Now he certainly had something to report to his trusty journal about it once he felt up to it: 'If you're fortunate enough to...you know, not die, you'll definitely feel a heck of a lot worse than you did before going to sleep.'

He pulled his blanket up over himself for warmth and then turned to Mabel, giving her a small smile. "Mabel...you did it. I-if it hadn't been for you...Bill...he would've completely wrecked my mind or...or something worse that I...don't really want to think about." He shivered a bit - half from fever and half from the thought of Bill's twisted games. "The way I was feeling in there...I never would have been able to get him on my own. Thanks, Mabel..."

Mabel smiled wide. "Don't worry about it! There was no way I was letting him pick on my brother EVER again...the big bully. That guy just never learns," she said, hands on her hips. She got up off the floor and stretched out. She happened to notice that, even though it felt as though a whole day had passed them by, they'd only been gone for about an hour in the real world.

When she got a good look at her twin, concern set back in. She climbed up on the end of his bed and sat there. "You still seem...REALLY sick though. Like...more like miss-school-for-two-whole-WEEKS sick now. You doing okay?"

"In all honesty? N-not really..." Dipper started coughing again, and rather harshly at that.

Mabel quickly got his drink for him and felt his forehead. You could have used it in place of a kerosene heater. Bill really HAD done quite a number on him...

Luckily for Dipper, about 15 minutes later, the twins both heard Stan unlocking the front door downstairs. "Honey...I'm home!" he called jokingly from the first floor. He climbed the stairs and knocked on the attic door before immediately entering (which kind of defeats the purpose of knocking), grocery bags in hand. He walked in just as Mabel was changing out the cloth on Dipper's forehead. "Hey, kiddo...how're you doin'?" he asked quietly, sounding an awful lot gentler than usual.

"Terrible..." Dipper croaked out from underneath the covers.

"Yeesh." Stan set the bags down on the bed and sat once Mabel scooted off. "Well...I dunno if this'll make ya feel any better, but you're not alone. Apparently, it's goin' around. In the SUMMER. I was IN LINE with some punk who was practically coughin' his lungs up. Only in this weird hick town..." He sighed. "Okay...so I just about bought out the pharmacy."

"Bought it out, or stole everything?" Dipper whispered with a tiny smile and a sniffle. Even in his haze, he couldn't help but tease Stan just a little.

"Haha...very funny, y'little dork. You'd be gettin' noogied right about now if y'weren't so darn sick," Stan teased back, grinning at the boy. "Here we go now. F'real." He started unpacking the bags, and he'd only been half exaggerating about buying out the pharmacy. "Tissues, cough drops, cold pills-" He nonchalantly put a hand to Dipper's forehead as he spoke, but he forgot to hide his concern and stopped cold, eyes wide, when he felt how high the kid's temperature had gotten in such a short amount of time. "Which y'need RIGHT NOW. I could make an omelet on your head. Be right back. Mabel, keep an eye on 'im, will ya?" He popped out of the room, taking Dipper's juice glass with him.

Mabel flopped down on her own bed. "Oh, gosh...you're in really bad shape, huh?" she asked. "I'm awful glad Grunkle Stan's back."

"Same..." Dipper groaned a little and laid back on his pillow.

"Don't you worry, bro. I'll be by your side keepin' you company until you get better."

Dipper was happy to have her company...but he realized something. "Thanks, Mabel. Just...be careful, okay? Judging by what Grunkle Stan just said, you..." He sneezed mid-sentence. "Could catch it. Really easily. Wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy..."

'Then again, Bill would probably enjoy it. The weirdo,' he thought to himself with disgust.

"I'll try to be careful...don't worry." Mabel gave Dipper a grateful little smile. "And heck...quit worrying about me! You're the one Dad could probably use for a grill right now. Just relax."

Grunkle Stan soon stepped back in the room with a glass of water, cold pills, and an ice pack he'd wrapped in a washcloth. "Alllright, kiddo...get this in you before your head...spontaneously combusts or somethin'."

"Thanks, Grunkle Stan." Dipper sat up to take the medicine and went to pick his UFO blanket up when it fell to the floor. Stan put a stop to that, however, when both he and Mabel saw the child become dizzy the second he stepped out of bed.

"Excuuuse me; where d'ya think you're goin'?" Stan muttered to him, sternly, but gently.

"Aww, Dipper, you're supposed to rest..." Mabel stepped over and put a hand on his shoulder to gently lower him back into bed.

"I-I'm good...I'm good," Dipper insisted, though he immediately coughed again afterwards.

"C'mere, kiddo...thataboy..." Stan tucked the kid back in and gently placed the ice pack on his burning forehead. "Now...when I say don't move from that bed, I MEAN don't move from it. Not a big fan of the sound of ya there," Stan said in his gruff, but well-meaning, way. He backed out of the room with the rest of the grocery bags. "Mabel, keep an eye on 'im while I put stuff away...and if he falls asleep, come downstairs and just let 'im go, okay?"

Mabel nodded. "You got it, Grunkle Stan."

Stan nodded back and smiled at his niece. "Good. Rest up, kiddo," he said to Dipper softly.

Once Stan left, as Dipper laid there in his bed, bundled up in a little blanket cocoon, anxious thoughts popped back into his head...but much different ones than before. He hated admitting it to himself, but he was more than a bit wary about trying to go back to sleep. He knew full well that he and Mabel had just seen Bill disappear into the unknown for themselves. And yet...the thought of him possibly still lurking somewhere nearby just wouldn't leave his aching head. Nervous, he poked a hand out and gently began to pet Waddles, who had sensed Dipper's uneasiness and decided to curl up next to him as if to reassure him.

Mabel turned to Dipper, and without him even saying a word, she could immediately tell that he felt uneasy. "It's alright, bro-bro," she said, patting his head lightly to comfort him. "We got rid of Bill...we watched him poof away, remember? You should be safe now. Just worry about getting better...okay?"

Dipper hesitated before nodding slowly, though he still couldn't help but feel at least a little nervous. "Okay..." He sneezed again and cleared his throat. "I guess I'll try to sleep...my head is killing me. Maybe the meds'll kick in faster that way." He slowly pulled himself into an even smaller ball - he slept more comfortably that way - but turned back around for a second to whisper one last message out. "Oh, Mabel...? Thanks again. For everything."

Mabel smiled. "You're welcome!" She made sure her sibling was tucked in just right. "I'll check back later once you're asleep to see how you're doing, okay?"

The boy smiled a tiny bit and nodded as he watched his sister leave the room. Waddles, who had decided to make himself comfortable where he was, kneaded on the bed a bit like a cat would before spinning around and falling asleep at Dipper's feet. Dipper soon surprised himself by successfully clearing his mind and following the little pig to Dreamland.

For the rest of that day and night, Mabel checked up on Dipper and kept him company whenever she could. She made it her sworn duty as 'chief nursemaid and right-hand man of the renowned Dr. Waddles' to monitor his temperature and keep him supplied with fluids, tissues, and throat lozenges. At one point, late in the evening, once enough of Dipper's lightheadedness had subsided and he was waiting for his next dose of medicine to kick in, the twins even played a game in which they would take turns making up a story by drawing pictures on Mabel's dry-erase board. The town's plethora of oddities - supernatural and human alike - provided them with plenty of material to draw inspiration from, so they spun themselves quite a tale. It was around 10:00 when the twins turned in, and for the first night in almost a week, they BOTH found themselves sleeping peacefully that night.

Unbeknownst to either of them, Stan had come up sometime around midnight. He pulled up a rusty old lawn chair from the bowels of the attic storage, parked himself just outside the kids' bedroom door, and stayed there - occasionally nodding off, but never for long - until he'd heard them begin to stir early the next morning. He then made a break for it as soon as he knew that all was as well as it could possibly be.

Though he still had quite a bad cold, Dipper was at least much less feverish when he woke up the next morning. Mabel was immensely relieved and glad to see him feeling at least a little bit better - and Stan would never admit it out loud, but so was he.

Since Dipper was still confined to bed, Mabel's nurse duties continued well into that afternoon. Whenever she came to visit him, Dipper noticed that she wasn't her usual hyperactive self - in fact, she was being...oddly quiet that morning - but he immediately determined the reason why, or so he thought. He'd found himself in an odd state of mental exhaustion since he and Mabel had returned from their mindscape battle victorious, and he figured that his sister was feeling the same sort of fatigue.

At some point, Dipper drifted off to sleep in spite of himself. The next thing he knew, he was brought out of his impromptu nap by a strange sound - a sound that gave him a bad feeling, though he...honestly wasn't quite sure what the noise was at first. He'd only half-heard it.

Had...had he just heard a cat sneeze?

"Huh...wha...?" he mumbled out as he rolled over. "Mabel...did you say something?" He coughed and picked up his watch so he could check the time. It was nearly suppertime, to his dismay. "Aw, seriously? I slept all day?"

Mabel was seated on her bed, working on gluing bits and bobs to various pages of her beloved scrapbook, as she often did on quiet afternoons and rainy days. "Naww...i-it's okay, bro-bro," she reassured him quietly...though Dipper quickly noticed that she didn't sound quite like herself. "You need all the sleep...you can..." Her sentence was cut off when she sneezed again. She quickly hid her discomfort, not paying it any mind, but she could tell by the way her brother was looking at her that he'd seen her. "W-what? Why're you lookin' at me like that?" She laughed nervously.

Dipper sat up. Something was up, alright. She looked paler than he did, and just as flushed to boot. "Mabel...? Are you okay?"

"...Oh, no," she muttered to herself. It wasn't until then that Mabel fully realized what had happened. At least, she hadn't admitted it to herself until then. "Okay, Dipper...I think maybe I got sick, too.." Having admitted defeat, she groaned and plopped down on her bed.

"...Uh-oh."

'So that's what's going on. Should've known when SHE started being QUIET,' Dipper thought to himself.

He wrapped himself up in his blanket, walked over to Mabel's bed, sat beside her, and put a hand to her forehead. Sure enough..."Aw, no, you're burning up!"

Mabel frowned at the discovery. "Yeah...I feel pretty darn sick..." She began to cough, and she sounded quite awful. "H-how are you feeling?"

Dipper winced a little at the sound of her. "Pff, don't worry about me; I'm..." He sneezed. "Fine." He certainly wasn't fine yet, by any stretch of the imagination, but he was much more concerned about Mabel's well-being at that moment. He handed her the box of tissues that had been sitting beside him. "How long have you been feeling like this? How come you didn't tell me?"

Mabel grabbed a tissue and blew her nose. "N-not too long..." She had actually felt herself coming down with something longer than she liked to admit. "I just...didn't want you to get worried while YOU'RE getting better...you know?"

"Aw, sis..." Dipper sighed. "It means a heck of a lot that you've been taking care of me. I really appreciate it. But just...don't forget to take care of yourself, too. You definitely don't want to end up feeling as awful as I felt yesterday. Okay?" He gave her a caring smile.

Mabel smiled back a little and nodded in response. Sometimes, it was almost as if he took the role of a protective older brother rather than a twin.

"Don't worry. We'll get you fixed up. It's my turn to help YOU out. One sec..." Dipper then got up and tried to call down the stairs for their grunkle. That very quickly turned out to be a mistake, for the fire in his throat began to burn twice as much, and it induced another coughing fit.

"SHHH, careful!" Mabel whisper-yelled to him, sounding worried. "You're still sick too, goofus!"

"Wha- what's that now?" Stan hollered back from downstairs, not having heard clearly. "Dipper? That you? What're you doin' yellin', kid? You're gonna bust your voicebox or somethin', and I'm not bein' held responsible for that..." he called up the stairs as he approached the attic. His head soon peeked through the doorway. "Y'okay?"

"I'm about the same as before; don't worry," Dipper replied, sniffling. "Mabel, on the other hand..."

"Hi, Grunkle Stan." Her voice cracked a bit - something that usually only Dipper's voice did - and she cleared her throat.

Stan raised an eyebrow in concern. He could instantly see that she didn't feel well and began to worry when he saw that clearing her throat caused it to ache. "Mabel...c'mere, sweetie." He put a hand to her head -  "Aw, jeez..." - and immediately went to see if he had a second thermometer handy, one he hadn't already used on his nephew. Dipper stayed beside her with a comforting hand on her shoulder as she waited.

It wasn't long before the thermometer beeped and decided to be the bearer of bad news. 100 degrees even. Stan sighed. "Well, that's not good."

"Aw, man..." Mabel frowned.

Stan took a deep breath, then came out with an idea. "...Alrighty. That's it. The two of yas, grab your blankets and pillows and...pigs and what have ya. You're comin' downstairs," he announced. "At least y'can...y'know, watch TV down there." The real reason he wanted them downstairs was so he could keep a closer eye on them both, but he dared not say it.

Dipper put a hand to his head, but smiled a little anyway. "Sounds like a plan to me." He quickly grabbed his blanket and pillow.

Mabel followed suit, wrapping both herself and Waddles up in her blanket. "I'm ready!" she proclaimed softly with a sniffle.

"All good? M'kay. Here we go..." Stan picked his niblings up and draped one of them over each of his shoulders. "All aboard the Stan Train!"

Very, very carefully, Stan carried them down the stairs. The twins used his shoulders as head rests and felt warm and safe in their grunkle's strong arms. He found himself a bit sore by the time he arrived in the living room, but didn't say so, and honestly, he didn't mind.

"Next stop...couch." He gently plopped them both - and Waddles - down.

The kids smiled. "Thanks, Grunkle Stan."

"Yeah, yeah. It's nothin'." Stan brushed it off, but he smiled a little himself. "Now don'tcha move a muscle. I'll be right back." Off he went to fetch supplies for them both.

Mabel tried to help Dipper bundle himself, but he took it upon himself to help her bundle herself up first instead. "You okay?" he whispered, trying not to strain his voice anymore.

Mabel coughed. "I've been better...but I'm okay." She snuggled Waddles close to her for comfort.

Dipper gave her a little side hug. "Yeah. Sorry that I...got you sick..." Then, the twins ended up sneezing in unison, which they couldn't help but snicker at.

"It's okay...I think I would've gotten sick anyways." Mabel returned the side hug. "I liked taking care of you - it was fun! So...I don't mind," she said softly with a shrug.

Dipper smiled warmly at his sister's kindness, glad to have her by his side.

Suddenly, the twins heard talking outside the door to the living room.

"OUT."

"Aw, come on, man-" "But Mr. Pines-"

"No 'buts' except yours away from this door. This area's been quarantined. Now OUT, b'fore I sic the CDC on yas both!"

As the old door creaked open and Stan stepped through, the twins could see Soos and Wendy squeeze their faces through the opening as fast as they could, determined to get their message across.

"Aw, man...get better, dudes!" Soos called through the door, his voice muffled from squishing in between the door and the wall.

"Feel better, guys! We'll sneak stuff in to you later when Stan's not looking!" Wendy managed to yell to them just before - 'click' - Stan shut the door on them.

Dipper and Mabel couldn't help but giggle at their antics. "Bye, guys," the twins called back quietly, hoping the two of them could hear.

Stan dropped tissues and other such supplies on the coffee table with a sigh. "Alright...you knuckleheads both need meds, and I'm makin' soup. And later, I...may or may not be able to...spare some ice cream." He grinned.

Mabel gasped and smiled. "Yes! Ice cream!" she cheered softly before sneezing.

"Bless you," Dipper said...and then promptly sneezed himself.

Stan ruffled the kids' hair affectionately. "Consider yourselves lucky. I don't go sharin' my stash with just anyone, y'know!" He chuckled a little as he disappeared into the kitchen. He peeked back through the kitchen door, for just a second, to make sure they'd gotten settled before getting to work.

Later on that evening, after the little family had sat down together for ice cream and a movie, Stan unraveled himself from the blanket pile on the couch and left the room for just a minute to grab some coffee. When he came back...

"Hey, kiddos, it's gettin' late...whaddya say we-" He stopped as soon as he saw the kids and smiled warmly. "Ha...wouldja look at this..."

The sight before him was too adorable for words. Dipper and Mabel were fast asleep, leaning on each other for support. Waddles had stretched himself across both of their laps, as if he was determined to guard them as they slept.

Stan chuckled - not only because the sight of the twins sleeping was so sweet, but also because he found his mind wandering to the happier days of his youth. Distant and bittersweet as they now were, he remembered them fondly just then, as if they had only occurred a few days prior. Those were treasured days, worth their weight in gold, where, even if sickness kinda killed a fun weekend, it wasn't as bad when there was a good friend to keep you company.

He silently debated whether or not to move the kids upstairs and soon decided against it entirely. "Eh...just let 'em sleep, Stan," he mumbled to himself. "They're comfortable where they are. No use disturbin' 'em both."

He was about to turn the TV off and depart for his bedroom, but he hesitated. He just couldn't bring himself to leave the kids alone. So, he just sat on the opposite end of the couch - gently, so as not to wake them.

Just as he went to check the kids' foreheads, Mabel suddenly coughed a bit in her sleep, rolled over, and hugged Stan's arm. Dipper murmured something in his sleep, and his head fell over onto Mabel's shoulder.

"Awwww..." Stan put his arm around Mabel. "Sweet dreams, pumpkin." He slowly reached his arm over Mabel's head and ruffled Dipper's hair. "G'night to you too, kiddo."

Mabel smiled in her sleep, as if the message had gotten to her regardless of her slumber. Dipper did as well and wrapped one arm around Waddles, who oinked happily in response and went back to piggy-snoring.

Stan kept his arm around the kids for the rest of the night. He had had no intention of falling asleep, but the cuddle pile had a rather soothing effect, and so he soon joined his niblings in slumberland in spite of himself.

In another couple days, to Stan's relief, Dipper and Mabel bounced back from their colds completely. Almost immediately, the tween sleuths were back to exploring the gigantic oddity that was Gravity Falls, where countless other summer adventures - and misadventures - awaited them...somewhere in the woods...

the end

19-10-14-9-25 25-9-3-6 5-3-11-11-19-6 1-16-15-12-19 25-9-3 21-23-10, 11-19-23-4-22-23-17-5 25-9-3-6 8-23-6-4-25 5-3-6-19-12-25 1-9-10'4 12-23-5-4 21-16-23-10-17-19 1-15-12-12 22-19-17-15-10 1-15-4-16 4-16-19 15-11-8-19-10-20-15-10-17 6-19-4-3-6-10 9-18 23-10 9-12-20 8-23-12 18-6-9-11 4-16-15-6-4-25 25-19-23-6-5 8-23-5-4 5-9-11-19-20-23-25 5-9-9-10, 23 5-16-9-9-4-15-10-17 5-4-23-6 1-15-12-12 18-23-12-12, 23-10-20 15'12-12 4-23-13-19 22-23-21-13 1-16-23-4 15 11-9-5-4 20-19-5-15-6-19 15-18 25-9-3 20-15-20-10'4 1-23-10-4 4-9 17-9 3-8 15-10 18-12-23-11-19-5, 8-15-10-19-5, 25-9-3 5-16-9-3-12-20-10'4 16-23-2-19 5-4-23-6-4-19-20 4-16-19 18-15-6-19

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #dipper pines #mabel pines #mystery twins #grunkle Stan #pines family #family love #soos Ramirez #wendy corduroy #waddles #friendship #mind heist #chapter 7 #epilogue #story complete #update #ichipine #collaboration #Danni's drabbles