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maybeimamuppet · 2 months

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picking teams- chapter 14: cady

hello everyone!! boo surprise sunday post!! because!! TODAY IS MY THIRD WRITING BIRTHDAY WOOOOOO!

today three years ago i posted my first ever oneshot (i think technically it was on the 4 bc it was late at night but the intention was to be today so i’m sticking with the 3). i can honestly say i was expecting NOBODY to read anything of mine and that this would be something i did for maybe a few months and then dropped like all my other hobbies.

and here we are three years later! so i’d just like to say a huge thank you to everyone who’s supported me through this little journey over the last three years. i feel like i really have a community and a little family here. i appreciate every single pair of eyeballs that has ever laid eyes on a fic of mine, whether you comment and i get to know who you are or you’re just a lurker. whether you’re new or you’ve been here the whole time. thank you from the bottom of my heart for being here for and with me <3

anyhoo! mushy stuff over for now lol please enjoy this chapter :)

tw for

broken bones

and as always if i missed something please let me know so i can add it in!

——————

Cady goes back to school that Wednesday.

Her parents let her have one more day off to recover and finish the homework she had been putting off. Cady's still not feeling 100% after her episode, as Janis put it, but she can't afford to miss any more school. Or cheer practice. She's gotten more than a few threatening texts from Regina.

She runs into Janis briefly going into homeroom, since it's in the same classroom as Janis' first period. She smiles, mostly at the ground, and Janis surreptitiously brushes her hand against Cady's and gently links their fingers together before walking off like nothing happened.

Cady blushes furiously and heads to her seat. She hunches in on herself to scribble something on a piece of notebook paper she rips off and folds up. She's so focused on making sure nobody sees what she's writing that she almost misses Ms. Norbury trying to take attendance.

"Cady. Caaaady. Heron. Hello."

"Wh- oh, uh, here," she stutters. Ms. Norbury arches an eyebrow and ticks her off on her computer. Cady trills her lips and tucks the paper into her pocket.

"Glad to have you back, Cady," she says once the bell rings.

"Thanks! Uh, see you this afternoon!" Cady says, rushing out the door. They already don't have much time to get from class to class, and she has a stop to make this time.

She tries to act like she's just leaning casually against the wall and she doesn't have to be across the building in two minutes. Once she looks around to double check nobody is watching, she carefully slips the note between the slats in Janis' locker and rushes off to her class.

Hopefully she gets it.

—-

Cady looks up from her phone in fright when she hears a murmured, "Hey, sweet thing."

Janis is peeking around the corner of the bleachers, lunch in hand and a confused look on her face. Cady spotted this during a rainy-day indoor practice last week. The bleachers are completely solid, so nobody can see in. "Did anyone follow you? See you?"

"Nobody important," Janis shrugs as she puts her food down. "Whatcha doing?"

Cady sighs in relief upon hearing confirmation that nobody will see them together. She leans in for a kiss and gets a sweet little peck. "I want to have lunch with you! It's like our own little place!"

"That it is," Janis agrees with a chuckle. "How's your day been?"

"Good! I got a hundred on my math test," Cady says happily.

"Of course you did," Janis laughs. "What'd you tell Regina?"

"About what?"

"Where you are," Janis says as she takes a bite of her... probably turkey sandwich. Cady's eyes widen. Shit.

"I... didn't tell her anything," she says quietly.

Janis quirks an eyebrow. "Better come up with something quick."

"Why?"

"She's gonna grill you like a war interrogator," Janis snorts.

Shit. She's right. "Uh... um..."

"Just tell her you skipped lunch," Janis shrugs.

"Skipped it?" Cady asks.

Janis shrugs again. "I dunno. That'd probably work."

"I'll think of something," Cady hums, pursing her lips and taking an exasperated bite out of her celery stick. Janis smiles at her like she's some cute little animal.

"So... any particular reason you're slipping notes into my locker and sneaking around with me behind the bleachers?" Janis says with a smirk as she scoots a little closer to Cady.

Cady groans as she's suddenly reminded why she had done this. "I have to go to Regina's after school. We're having a costume fitting for the holiday parade."

Janis looks at her oddly. "You're in the parade?"

Cady nods eagerly. "Mmhmm! I get to be an acro elf!"

"A what?" Janis giggles.

"I get to dress as an elf and do tumbling and acrobatic stuff next to Santa's float!"

"Oh," Janis says. "Stevie loves that one. I didn't know it was us."

"They choose the best cheer team in the region to do it. Apparently this is the first time in, like, ten years that it's been North Shore," Cady explains.

Janis snorts. "That makes more sense."

"I'm really excited. But I have to spend a lot of time with the Plastics, I won't have as much time free after school," Cady says apologetically.

Janis shrugs. "It's just a parade. Once it's done your schedule will calm down a bit and we can spend more time together again. Not like we're breaking up."

Cady giggles. "I still have my knight in shining armor to come save me from the Plastics if I beckon her."

"Damn right you do," Janis smirks, leaning in for a kiss.

Cady happily leans in too, smiling to herself as their lips touch. She's suddenly very glad she totally ate it at their last practice and spied this hideout behind the bleachers from the ground.

"Might need to save you already," Janis hums as they pull apart, looking Cady up and down with a small grimace.

Cady sheepishly looks down at her bright pink crop top she'd decided to wear today. She tugs at her collar, suddenly self-conscious. "You don't like it?"

"No, no, you look cute," Janis says. Something in her tone tells Cady it's a half-truth at best. Oh well.

“Thanks," she says. Janis takes another bite of her sandwich and sprawls on the hard floor of the gym with her head on Cady's lap.

"Oh, get this- my math class this morning," she says. Cady tunes out almost immediately, stroking some stray hairs away from Janis' forehead and just watching her mouth move. It's probably nothing important. God, she's gorgeous.

What is she going to tell Regina?

I got sick- ew, no.

I had to talk to a teacher- too easy to mess up if she comes from the wrong direction. They'd get suspicious too easily.

I- oh, fuck it, I'll think of something.

She continues munching on her lunch and half-listening to Janis speak. Janis doesn't seem to notice or care one way or the other. Cady smiles and pulls out her phone to check her messages. She thinks of something then.

"And then-"

"Have you... told anyone about us?"

Janis pauses mid-sentence. "No."

"Not even Damian?" Cady asks shyly.

Janis shakes her head. "I kinda still don't believe it myself. I wanted to keep it to myself for a while."

"You don't wanna tell people?" Cady asks with a frown.

"No! No, I do. Some people," Janis says. "I just wanted it to stay between us for a little bit. And I figured I should check with you before I told anyone. But I'd be fine telling a few people now."

"Oh," Cady says.

"Do you want to?" Janis asks, sitting up and brushing her hair out of her face. Cady thinks for a moment before she nods.

"We should probably tell Damian, at least. He'll find out sooner or later anyway."

Janis sighs. "True."

"You don't want to?"

"No, I'm just preparing myself," Janis says, looking at Cady out of the corner of her eye with a small grin. "Might as well get it over with, I guess. C'mere."

Cady frowns in confusion and scoots closer. Janis pulls out her phone, opens the camera, and leans in. Cady catches on and gently rests a hand on Janis' cheek, smiling into a sweet kiss. She can feel Janis smiling too as she hears the camera shutter snap and they break apart. Janis sneaks a quick peck to Cady's nose, making her blink in shock and giggle quietly.

Janis opens her text conversation with Damian and types out a message. Cady hugs her arm and leans in over her shoulder to read it.

snarkisian: hey babe

cupboard: whaaaaaat do you want

snarkisian: Sent a photo: things have developed

Janis' phone starts ringing almost immediately. Janis frowns at it as Damian's contact photo fills the screen and it buzzes in her hand, but she hits the green button and the speaker so they can both hear.

As soon as she does, a piercing shriek rings out from the speakers. It's loud enough that Cady practically feels her brain dislodge and start rattling around in her head. She thinks she might've heard him all the way from the cafeteria, too.

As soon as that happens, he hangs up. Janis and Cady both blink at the screen for a moment before bursting into hysterical laughter.

"I don't know what I was expecting," Janis sighs affectionately as she slips her phone back into her pocket. Cady feels her own buzz against her leg and pulls it out to see several incoming texts from Damian that mainly consist of ABSKEOWIWHWJWJABDHWOWOA.

She clocks the time, then, and jumps. "Oh, shit!"

Janis startles. "What?"

"I have to go, lunch is almost over," Cady says, frantically packing up her things. "Bye babe. See you later."

Janis blinks in surprise, but returns the quick kiss Cady gives her before Cady goes rushing off. She has to find Regina before the bell rings. Not that Regina has ever felt much urge to listen to the bell.

She tries to think of an excuse as she hurries through the halls towards the cafeteria. Nothing really comes to her. She skids to a halt next to some sort of booth when she sees Regina and Aaron standing close to it.

"Hey!" she greets brightly after smoothing down her hair and adjusting her shirt. They both look at her. Aaron quirks his head when he sees what she's wearing, but he gets a faint smile.

Regina checks her nails and says, "Hey. Where have you been?"

"Oh, um..." Cady says. Shit. She wracks her brain trying to think of something. What did Janis say? "I skipped lunch."

Regina cocks an eyebrow. "Why?"

Cady smiles as she puts the pieces together. "I'm... trying to lose weight. So I look more like you guys. I just had one of these diet bars."

"Diet bars?" Regina questions. "Let me see."

Cady happily hands over the whole box of Kälteens. Regina holds it between her hands to try to read. Aaron peeks over her shoulder to try to see too.

"It's all in Norwegian or something," Regina says, looking at Cady in confusion.

"Swedish," Cady corrects before she can stop herself. "There's... um... this ingredient in them that you can't get here yet. My mom used to use them to lose weight in Kenya."

"Hm," Regina nods. "Can I keep these?"

"Sure!" Cady says brightly. She has a feeling Regina would've kept them even if she said no. Works for me.

"Now, are you getting me my candy cane?" Regina hums. Cady frowns in confusion before she realizes she's talking to Aaron.

"What happened to losing weight, those things are pure sugar," Aaron chuckles. Regina brushes his hair off his forehead and runs her fingers through it so it stays out of his face.

"But it's such a nice thing to do for your girlfriend," she pouts. "And stop pulling your hair down, you look so hot with it pushed back. Don't you think so, Cady?"

"Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, way hotter," Cady says. Two months ago that would've made Cady want to go for the jugular. Now? She couldn't care less.

Aaron sighs and begrudgingly leaves his hair the way Regina sort of styled it. "Alright, move over, since you so desperately need this candy cane."

He leans over the booth selling them to fill out one of the paper slips that'll eventually get tied to a candy cane and passed out in class. Cady giggles into her hand when she realizes Damian is the one in the budget Santa Claus costume behind the booth.

"Cady, remember, student parking lot after school," Regina says as she laces her pink-taloned fingers through Aaron's and leads him off to... wherever they're going. Most definitely not class.

"Got it! Bye," she says. She can feel her face relax as soon as they're turned around and can't see her anymore. Cady goes to the booth and leans across it. "Hi Dame."

"Ho ho ho, happy holidays! Would you like a candy cane?" 'Santa' replies. Cady laughs again.

"Hey, does Regina ever send any of these things?" she asks.

"Nah, she only gets them," Damian replies in his normal voice. "You want any?"

"One please," Cady replies, taking a pen with a smirk on her face.

—————

Cady sighs a little to herself as she follows Regina and the others into her house. Gretchen and Karen chat with Regina's mom. Regina huffs and rolls her eyes, straight off to her bedroom. Cady says a quick and polite hello and takes a handful of the offered snacks. She nibbles on the sunflower seeds while she mulls over what to do next.

Regina took the bars. As long as nobody recognizes them, she should be in the clear there. How can she make them work faster? Kälteens do work quickly, but Cady wants results as soon as possible. For Janis.

What makes you gain weight quickly? Cholesterol, but Cady doesn't want to do anything permanent. This is just to teach Regina a lesson, then she can lose the weight again. Sugar? Yeah. Carbs.

Cady smiles to herself as she puts a plan in place.

"Alright, you girls go find Regina. You'll do great," Mrs. George says after however long. Cady jumps when she remembers where she is.

"Thank you, Mrs. George," she calls as she goes running after Gretchen and Karen up to Regina's room.

"You're welcome!" the woman calls after them.

Regina tosses a hanger at her as soon as Cady walks into the room. "Here. I know, the costumes are fugly."

"I think they're kinda cute," Cady says, holding the outfit out so she can see it all.

"The hat has fucking jingle bells on the top, Cady," Regina huffs, handing Cady hers. She shakes it a little bit, and sure enough, there's a quiet jingling. "Go make sure it fits, but we really just need to work on making sure the hat doesn't hit the ground or fall off while you tumble."

"Okay," Cady says. Gretchen and Karen just changed in front of each other, but Cady sneaks off to the en-suite and locks the door behind her. She looks at herself in the mirror and takes a deep breath.

Janis was right, I do look Plastic, she thinks. Cute, though. Her loss.

She carefully takes off her clothes and tugs on the red-and-white striped tights. She has to jump to get the super stretchy material all the way up, but she manages with only one faceplant. Then comes the green dress, with gold buttons down the bodice, short sleeves with puffed shoulders, a belt at her waist, and red and gold trim around the hem with a collar to match.

It's not a great fit. Hesitantly, she unlocks the door and steps back into Regina's room with an, "Um."

Regina looks at her and laughs. "I kinda thought that would happen, these costumes are all huge. I swear they think we're all fat cows or something. My mom will tailor it for you."

Cady looks down at the very strangely fitting dress. There's a lot of space in between her belly and the dress, and not a lot in between it and her boobs. The skirt hits about mid-thigh, which is entirely too long, if Gretchen and Karen's are anything to go by. The sleeves are both uncomfortably tight in her armpits and loose everywhere else.

Other than that, it's great. At least the tights fit.

"Go change again, she'll get your measurements before you leave."

Cady nods and slips gratefully back into the restroom. She snaps a quick picture before she changes and sends it to Janis.

She's stuck with the dress over her head when she hears her phone go off, presumably with Janis' answer. She wriggles more in a ditch attempt to free herself, which gets her nowhere even faster.

Eventually, she escapes, heaving for breath and her hair all frizzy. She peels off the tights and puts on her non-elf clothes. Regina takes the hanger as she passes her on her way into her bathroom while Cady is occupied checking her phone.

jayjay: cutie

cadygirl: You like it?

jayjay: ofc i do

jayjay: my dorky little elf

cadygirl: Hey!

jayjay: do u get ears and shit

cadygirl: Yeah

cadygirl: Regina's really mad about it

jayjay: holy shit that's amazing

jayjay: reginald in elf ears

cadygirl: I don't get it I think they're cute

jayjay: i think ur cute

"Who are you texting?" Karen asks. Cady leaps a solid foot in the air as she materializes over her shoulder. "Not enough emojis."

"Um..." Cady stutters. Her immediate instinct was to blush and press her phone to her chest so they can't see. Now Gretchen and Karen are both looking at her suspiciously. "Uh... my... g- boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?!" Gretchen squeals sharply. "You can't get a boyfriend without telling us!"

"I can't?"

"Not without your best friends' approval! You wouldn't buy a skirt without asking your friends if it looks good on you," Gretchen hums.

"I wouldn't?" Cady replies in confusion.

"Exactly!"

Cady just blinks.

"So who is it?" Karen asks eagerly.

"Oh, you don't know him," Cady says immediately. Because it's not a him. It's not technically a lie. Right?

"He's not, like, thirty, right?" Gretchen asks in concern, the furrow in her brow deepening the longer Cady goes without answering.

"No! No, ew," Cady replies with a grimace. "Uh... he... goes to another school."

"Which one?"

"Um... do you remember that school we played right before Thanksgiving break? The away game when we stayed at the hotel?"

"Roosevelt?" Gretchen asks. Sure.

"Yeah. He goes there," Cady replies. "His name is... Jasin. With... an I."

"Ooh, unique!" Gretchen coos. "Is he cute? You have to introduce us soon!"

"Well, I don't think he's... everyone's type, but I think he's cute," Cady replies sheepishly.

"Aww, you're blushing!" Karen says. Cady blushes harder.

"Shut up," she scoffs. Karen's face falls. "No, wait, I didn't mean it like that-"

"It's okay," Karen says quietly.

"I'm really sorry, Kare," Cady says. Karen gives her a look Cady can't read. Not that Karen is ever easy to read.

"Don't worry about it."

Cady gently squeezes her arm. Karen smiles faintly at her.

"Do you have pictures of him?" Gretchen asks eagerly.

"No," Cady says immediately. "Uh... he's really shy, we don't, like, send pictures of ourselves much. We just like to see each other in person and text and stuff."

"Aww," they both coo. Gretchen continues, "Well, get one soon! We gotta make sure he's hot enough for you."

"I'll try," Cady giggles. "Oh, could we like... not tell Regina right away? It's all new, still, I don't want her to freak out about our image if we break up or whatever. We've only been together for, like, two weeks."

"Our lips are sealed," Gretchen replies immediately.

"But I'm not using SuperGlue as Chapstick again," Karen adds.

"No, that's okay, K, don't do that," Cady says immediately. "Thanks guys."

"Alright sluts, put on these... eugh. I can't even call them hats," Regina says as she parades back into the room. She chucks one at each of them rather aggressively. Cady's ends up hitting her full force in the face when she's too slow to react.

Regina watches as the three of them carefully push all her very expensive furniture out of the way so they have enough room to flip without fear of crashing into anything. Cady asks why they're not just practicing outside, and Regina goes on a solid ten minute rant about being seen in those costumes more than they have to. Cady doesn't speak for the rest of the evening.

—————

"Did Regina's boobs get bigger?" Cady hears the boy behind her in chemistry class ask about two weeks later, apparently as a conversation opener with his equally-jock-douchebag lab partner.

"Dude, totally," jock-douchebag replies. "Aaron's a lucky guy."

"Isn't she still dogging Shane?" bro number one asks. Cady tries to hide a shudder at the mention of his name.

Bro the second shrugs. "Probably."

Dammit, we made her hotter, Cady huffs to herself as she slides her goggles down over her eyes and turns on the bunsen burner. She looks over and sees Janis with a similarly disgruntled look on her face.

She gestures subtly for Cady to focus. Cady snaps back into the real world, this time before she can set herself on fire. She risks one glance back and sees Janis chuckle to herself, biting her lips to stop before anyone can see and ask what she's laughing about. Cady smiles to herself and buckles down to set some Doritos on fire. Not myself, thank you very much.

—————

Cady is laser focused in calculus another two weeks later. Not on calculus, but... she's there, it's fine.

She jumps and bangs her knee against her desk when Santa Claus slams the door open with a bellowed, "HHHHHOOOOO!"

"Jesus Christ," Ms. Norbury sighs, picking up her shattered chalk bits after she dropped it in shock. "Make it quick."

"One candy cane gram for Shane Oman," Damian says, adjusting his very poor quality fake beard as he hands Shane his candy cane.

He holds it between his first and index fingers like a pair of dirty underpants and leaves Shane to snatch it. Damian wipes his hand on his red velvet Santa coat like Shane has some sort of hetero cooties he might catch.

"Four for Glenn Coco!" Damian continues. "Hohoho, you go, Glenn Coco. Two for Caddy Heron!"

Cady frowns in confusion. Two? She only bought one. She takes them with a smile as Damian wiggles his way between the rows to deliver them. "Thanks, D."

Damian winks at her and moves on to deliver the next few candy canes to the lucky recipients.

Cady checks the tags on hers. There's the fake one, the one she wrote herself. She smiles to herself as she reads the little red slip of paper on the second one.

Merry Christmas my little elf

<3, J

ps ur short lolololol

She rolls her eyes as she reads the very loving message from her girlfriend and unwraps the end of the candy cane. She sucks on it as she continues pretending to pay attention when Damian leaves and Ms. Norbury can resume her lesson.

——

"Sorry I'm late!" she pretend-puffs as she stumbles her way into the gym. Regina just glares at her from across the room, but Gretchen comes scrambling over to join her as she plops her still-open bag on the ground. "God, I was in the middle of a problem when the bell rang, I didn't even have time to get packed up-"

"You got a candy cane?" Gretchen asks softly. She picks it up and unfolds the tag to read.

"Oh, yeah, Regina sent me one! Isn't she just the best friend?"

"R-Regina?" Gretchen squeaks. "Thanks for being such a great best friend. ...Cute."

"She didn't give you one?" Cady asks with faux-sympathy. She's heard it from the mouth of the lioness herself. There's no way Gretchen got any.

Gretchen shakes her head frantically. "She never sends them."

"Oh. Weird," Cady replies. "Well, you can have that one if you want. I had another one."

"I have to go," Gretchen chokes around floods of tears. Shit. Maybe Gretchen is a little more fragile than she thought.

"Gretchen," she says pleadingly, running after her friend to the bathroom.

"Well, i-if you and Regina are best friends now... then you can be in charge of keeping all her secrets," Gretchen says as soon as the door closes behind Cady.

Cady just nods. She can tell Gretchen is about to ramble, she doesn't dare interrupt her.

"Like, for example, she bought you those shoes just to make fun of you! Be-because she knew you wouldn't be able to walk in them. And she's not really blonde!"

Cady's eyes widen. She's not? Her eyes flick to the door as she hears a shocked gasp come from the other side. Was that... Damian?

"Her natural color is dark blonde. Also she totally cheats on Aaron!"

Cady almost chokes.

"Every Thursday she says she has a cheer intensive but she totally just stays behind to hook up with Shane Oman in the lion costume!"

"She makes him wear the costume?" Cady asks in disgusted horror.

"No! They're both in the costume!" Gretchen bellows, snapping the candy cane in half and dropping the pieces to the floor. Cady's jaw drops.

"Oh my god."

"And I never told anyone because I am such a good friend! I-I'm gonna go fill up my water bottle. Cover for me?" Gretchen sniffles. Cady nods.

Gretchen ducks out of the room. Damian enters before the door even closes, and Janis slams her way out of the stall. Damian hysterically whimpers, "I wear that costume!"

"Cads, that was amazing! What did you do?!" Janis says with an adorably delighted smile on her face. She rushes up and grabs Cady by the arms, spinning her around before she leans in for a kiss.

"Just a little Christmas magic," Cady responds with a grin of her own as soon as they break apart. "I sent myself a candy cane but I signed it as being from Regina."

"Clever girl," Janis coos in a horrible accent. Cady giggles.

"Okay, I gotta go! Love you guys." Janis gets another kiss and Damian gets a quick hug before Cady runs back to the gym to start their last parade practice.

————-

Cady grumbles as she wakes up the next morning. It's barely morning, the sun hasn't even risen yet. She has to be in the city, an hour away, two hours before the parade starts at 8:00. And she has to be there with her hair and makeup already done.

She does consider herself a morning person, but four in the morning is a bit much for anyone.

She grumbles as she hauls herself out of bed and stumbles to the restroom. She turns on the light and resists the urge to wince and close her eyes. How am I meant to be a jolly elf on five hours of sleep?

Cady opens her eyes extra wide, looking a little past unhinged when she sees herself in the mirror, to let the light in and hopefully wake her up.

By the time she's done brushing her teeth, she doesn't squint in the light anymore. She still grumbles sleepily as she washes her face, though.

She brings up the photo Regina sent (accompanied by many profanities) of what her makeup should look like so she can copy it. It's honestly not very different from her usual cheer makeup. Foundation, lots of gold eyeshadow, black mascara, red lipstick. Pretty much the only difference is the bright pink blush that she leaves in neat little circles on the apples of her cheeks instead of blending it up her cheekbones to look more natural. It's a little more rag doll than elf, but maybe it'll work better with the costume on.

She does her hair in two french braids, parted as close to even as she can get down the middle of her head and twisted intricately so they won't fall out after a morning of being mostly upside-down. She gives up on each braid a bit before the end, and ties the bands around halfway down instead of at the ends. Kind of a cute look, she thinks, as she fluffs out her curls at the end of each braid.

"You ready, binti? Have a Kälteen bar," her mother says when she trudges her way downstairs. Cady grabs the bar and takes a disgruntled bite out of it. She nods.

"You're sure this Regina friend can bring you home? We have to leave right from-"

"Right from the parade, I know, Dad," Cady says. "I quadruple checked, I'll make it home fine. Have fun at the vet conference."

"Oh, we will," her mother promises. "There's a keynote speaker on upgrades in euthanasia technology."

"...Cool," Cady replies.

"Right?! Alright, go get in the car. You sure you have everything?"

"Yeah. Regina has my outfit, I'll get changed there," Cady says. She looks down and brushes some wrinkles out of her Christmas jammies that Janis bought her. She smiles at the memory. My little dork.

"Time to hit the road, then!" her dad says. Cady shrieks as he hoists her off the ground and marches out towards the car.

"Dad!"

Her dad just starts bellowing the chorus to I Love a Parade, probably really irritating their poor neighbors. Cady gets affectionately tossed in the backseat, and her dad continues singing as her parents get into their spots up front and start the drive to Chicago.

————-

"Binti, we're here," her mother says. Cady jumps and snorts, bashing her head against the window she had fallen asleep against. "Ooh, be careful."

"Shit," Cady hisses under her breath, rubbing her new sore spot.

"Language," her dad chides, only half-serious.

"Sorry daddy. Have fun in Peoria. I love you," Cady says, bending at a weird angle to hug her parents goodbye. They can only stay long enough to see the beginning of the parade, so she has to get her goodbyes in now.

"We will. Be safe, have fun. No boys," her mother says, gently patting her back.

"I know, I know. You don't have to worry about that," Cady chuckles. Really. You have no idea.

"Atta girl. Go get em, tiger," her dad says, opening the door for her and sending her out. "Love you!"

"Yeah, love you too," Cady says, briefly walking backwards to talk to them. She gives them a final wave before she turns around and starts running to her team's meeting spot. "Yeesh. I'm sixteen."

Regina, once again, chucks her costume at her as soon as she's within sight. Cady manages to catch it this time, and looks around for somewhere private to change. The only place is behind some trees, so she heads that way.

Regina's mom is a talented seamstress and tailored Cady's costume to fit her perfectly. Almost too perfectly. It's so tight against her chest and her belly that she can barely breathe, and the skirt juuuuust barely passes her bum. The candy cane-esque tights are all she has left to protect her modesty.

The shoes with pointy toes and jingle bells are a recent addition, and she jangles her way back over to her friends. "Hey."

"Hey!" Karen greets, too brightly for six in the morning.

"Are your costumes, like, really tight?" Regina huffs, shifting her arms around to try to stretch the fabric a little. "They were huge, my mom can't have fucked up the tailoring this bad."

"Mine's okay," Cady shrugs. Her hat jingles for emphasis.

"Ugh, I'm gonna go see if she has any safety pins," Regina grumbles. Cady's phone pings as she stomps off through the frost-covered grass.

jayjay: good mornin buttercup

cadygirl: >:|

jayjay: what ?

jayjay: not a good morning??

cadygirl: Sent a picture: It's 6 in the morning and I look like this

cadygirl: And I'm cold >:|

jayjay: aww

jayjay: someone's grumpy

cadygirl: Yeah >:||||

jayjay: steve and i will be there to see you

cadygirl: Yaaaaay 🥰🥰

jayjay: that easy to cheer you up huh

cadygirl: It'd be even easier if you bring me food

jayjay: little conwoman

cadygirl: Whaaaat nooooo

jayjay: i'll take you to breakfast after

jayjay: hobbit

cadygirl: Hey!!

jayjay: not because you're short

jayjay: this time

jayjay: bc they're hungry all the time

cadygirl: Oh

cadygirl: Still v rude of you

jayjay: if i take you to get a happy meal will that make up for it

cadygirl: Yes <333

jayjay: done

jayjay: see you soon peanut

cadygirl: See you soon gorgeous 😘

Cady suddenly feels much warmer as she puts her phone back into her bag. She and Gretchen glue each other's ears on and the whole team does a warmup and stretch routine together. Cady rolls out her wrists and finally smiles as she gets into her spot.

——

The parade is more fun than she was expecting. It's less intense than what she has to do at games, more walkovers and limbers than tucks and punches. She gets a little dizzy, and it's hard not to get run over by the float on the rare occasions she fumbles a landing, but it's still fun. For once, the smile on her face is genuine the whole time.

She waves dorkily when she passes her parents. They both have their phones held up to film and proud smiles beaming across their faces. They wave back just as dorkily before they duck out and are off to their seminar.

Cady doesn't get to do much in the way of the more limber skills anymore. It's fun. She kind of misses doing skills just for fun, for herself. As long as she stays in her spot she can do whatever she wants to. She does all sorts of front walkovers, back walkovers, aerials, the occasional handspring. It's refreshing.

Whenever they come to a stop is when things get interesting. Nobody wants to see a parade stuck in place, so they practiced lots of choreography for that. One of the floats ahead of them gets stuck on a corner, and Cady does a vaulted flip off of Regina's crouched form like a really, really elaborate game of leapfrog. Regina acts like she's dancing with her and whirls her back around so they're in their right spots before they get going again.

Towards the end of the parade, Cady hears a, "Hi Cady!"

She's not supposed to, but she looks over. Stevie is waving eagerly to her, her arm linked with one of her friends. Janis is behind her with a cute grin on her face as she sees Cady in all her elvish glory. Cady wiggles her fingers back in greeting, and kisses the tips of her fingers twice before blowing the kisses in their direction. Janis smiles wider and sneakily blows one back. Stevie just squeals and dances around with her friend. Cady adds a little more flair to her skills than she needs to just for them.

Things stop and start a lot more as the first floats get to the end of the parade route and have to navigate pulling off to the sides of the road or getting where they need to be. Cady and Regina do their series of tricks at least six times. They start adding little bits of flourish to it when it begins to feel boring and repetitive.

Apparently a little too much flourish. Regina does a dramatic turn before she crouches to be Cady's vault.

Cady's already running.

She has no time to stop as Regina's safety pin breaks.

And her costume comes off.

Regina screams and bends down to try to grab it. Cady slips on the fabric and goes head over heels the wrong way. Cameras are already out, pictures and videos being recorded. Apparently more people from North Shore make the trip out to see the parade than they thought.

But Cady can't hear the shutters clicking or the agitated murmuring over the pop her ankle makes as she lands, and the roaring of blood in her ears as a horrific pain radiates up her leg. No, no, no no no nononono.

One of the coaches was walking alongside the float in between them and the crowd to make sure it all went smoothly. She rushes up and helps Regina get herself situated. "You alright, Heron?"

Cady can only sob. My ankle is broken. My ankle is broken and it really hurts. My ankle is broken and I may never be able to tumble again. My ankle-

"Whoa, kid, hey," her coach says. "Can ya walk? Right flank, fall in! You're down a man!"

Cady hops and hobbles her way to the end of the route and sits down on the curb, cradling her ankle and sobbing.

"Are your folks around?"

Cady shakes her head. "Re-Regina's take-taking me home."

Her coach hums and nods. "She ran off. Hope she's okay, too. Dang, kid, that looks gnarly."

That only makes Cady cry harder. What if I just did my last flip?

"I'll uh... go keep an eye out for George," her coach says. She does have the decency to bring Cady her bag. Cady debates texting her parents to let them know, but they're probably already halfway to Peoria. And they were so excited about the keynote, she can't drag them away from that. She'll just have to suck it up.

The pain is... almost bearable. It's not, but she doesn't exactly have much choice. Her sobs slow, and before too long she's just sniffling on the side of the road and holding her sore leg.

She about jumps out of her skin when she hears a, "Caddy!"

"Jesus Christ, Janis! There's people around here!" Cady hisses. Janis' face falls a little.

"Sorry."

"What are you doing here?" Cady asks more gently.

"There's already like, seventy different people sharing videos of you and Regina falling, what the hell happened?"

"I think the Kälteen bars backfired," Cady sniffs, shutting one eye as a wave of pain radiates from her ankle.

Janis frowns. "What do you mean?"

"She's gained so much weight her costume didn't fit," Cady explains through half-grit teeth.

Janis snorts. Cady glares at her. "Sorry."

"She safety pinned it on and it broke and I slipped on the costume," Cady continues. "And I fucked up my landing and I think my ankle is broken."

"Yikes," Janis says in concern.

"She was supposed to take me home," Cady says, trying to stretch out her leg and wincing in pain. Janis winces too.

"Damian and I will take you to the hospital, don't worry about it," Janis says immediately.

"Don't- ow- don't you have Stevie with you?" Cady asks in concern.

"Nah, she wanted to go to her friend's house, I'm free of the child until tonight," Janis replies. "Can I see?"

Cady looks at her hesitantly. Janis looks back. She doesn't push. There are a lot of people around. But Cady needs the comfort of her girlfriend right now. She nods.

Janis carefully eases her stupid jingly boot off her foot, pausing whenever Cady makes a pained noise. By the end Cady has her bottom lip so firmly between her teeth she can taste blood and her eyes screwed shut. It's still not enough to stop a few pained tears slipping out and down her face.

It becomes quickly apparent that Janis has absolutely no idea what she's doing. She gives Cady's foot a gentle, inquisitive poke and pulls back like she's been burned when Cady squeaks in pain. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Cady says, looking at her through squinted eyes and trying to remember how to breathe.

"It's pretty swollen," Janis says in concern. "And bruising already."

Cady sniffs again, looking down at her stupid candy-cane patterned lap. Janis gently tips her chin up.

"It'll be okay, Cads," she murmurs.

"But what if it's not?" Cady hiccups. "What if I never walk on it again? What if I can never do another flip?"

"And what if it's totally fine? What if it turns out to just be a bad sprain and you're back on your feet in a week?" Janis retaliates.

Cady feels her lip tremble. Janis might be right.

But they both know she's not.

"They're coming, hide," Cady says when she hears the cheers coming down the road. Thank god Damian's almost here.

Janis looks at her oddly, sadly, but she obediently ducks behind the tree line to wait for the crowd of people they actually know to clear out.

"Cads! Hey, coach told me you fell, what the hell, babe?!" Damian says as soon as he sees her, sprinting full tilt over to her. "Oh, yikes."

"Is it bad?" Cady asks, feeling tears brimming behind her eyes yet again.

"It's not... great," Damian replies hesitantly. "Can you move it?"

Cady sniffles. "I don't know, I haven't tried."

"Can I?"

Cady nods. Damian carefully braces her ankle with his large, warm hand and gives her foot a gentle wiggle. Several people look in their direction at the noise Cady makes in response.

"Alright, well," Damian says in a voice a solid three octaves higher than normal.

"I'm sorry," Cady sobs.

"Babe, shh," Damian soothes. "I will donate you one of my feet if I have to. We'll go get you patched up and all that, don't worry about it."

"But how will you be a big Broadway star someday if you only have one foot?" Cady giggles wetly.

"I'll manage. Is that Janis peeping at me through the bushes over there?"

"Probably," Cady replies with another giggle. She turns around and sees a familiar pair of blue eyes poked out from behind a gnarled old tree trunk. Janis ducks back behind it when she sees she's been spotted, and Cady smiles. "Yeah. Dork."

Damian smiles too. "She really loves you. Let me text her so she doesn't get picked up for stalking or some shit."

"She does?" Cady sniffles.

"Girl, are you kidding? We haven't had a conversation where you haven't come up at least once since September," Damian says absently as he taps out a message to Janis.

Janis is close enough that they hear her phone ping and her muffled, "Shit!" Cady can't help but laugh.

"Alright, she'll meet us at the car and we'll take you to the hospital."

"Thanks, papa elf," Cady grins. Damian laughs and tosses Cady onto his back to carry her the half-mile back to the parking lot. "These bells are infuriating."

"I think they're fun," Damian replies, a hand over his heart. He wiggles his head to make his hat jingle for emphasis. Cady giggles.

"Thanks for taking me home. I dunno what happened to Regina," Cady says quietly.

"Nobody does, she disappeared after the... incident," Damian replies. Cady frowns.

"Weird."

"I took over on your side so it was still balanced, but apparently she just ran off naked through the woods. Guess you can cross that off your list," Damian says. Cady laughs.

"You make a great elf," she replies. "Your ear keeps poking me, though."

"Sorry," Damian chuckles. "Alright, madam, we have arrived at your chariot."

"'Sup nerds," Janis greets, pushing herself off Damian's mom's car with a small salute.

"Caddy gets front seat privileges, she's broken."

"Ugh!" Janis groans sarcastically. Cady giggles.

"Um, actually... can I sit in the back with you?" she mumbles shyly.

Janis smirks. "We gonna make out?"

Cady rolls her eyes. "Corndog."

"What?!" Damian giggles.

"Is that not right?" Cady replies shyly.

"Did you just call me a corndog?!" Janis cackles.

"Someone tell me what I meant to say!" Cady insists.

Damian barely manages to put her down safely before he almost collapses to the ground in laughter. "Did-did you mean horndog?"

"Yes!" Cady says. "Stop laughing, it's not funny!"

"Yes it is!" Janis chokes through her laughter.

"People are staring, shut up!" Cady hisses. "Stop laughing!"

"Okay, okay," Damian says, wiping tears from his eyes. "Get in, sluts and slurs."

As soon as the doors close, Janis and Damian burst into laughter again. Damian can barely turn the key to start the car, he's laughing so hard. "I didn't mean to say corndog, stop laughing."

"You're so cute," Janis hums, still giggling to herself. "How's the ankle doing?"

"Hurts," Cady sighs.

Janis pouts and pulls Cady into a cuddle. Cady leans into her shoulder with a wince as another burst of pain radiates up her leg. "Poor baby."

—-

After an interesting drive to the nearest urgent care, Janis scoops Cady out and carries her baby-style into the waiting room. The pain is starting to get to Cady again, and she winces and cries quietly as Janis cradles her in her lap.

Luckily, people are so focused on their own injuries or other ailments that two Christmas elves and their art freak barely catch their eye. There's a mother there with a clearly sick little boy snuffling into her shoulder, a duo of frat bros who are clearly drunk and each cradling one arm close to their chest, and an old man in the corner filling out a crossword puzzle from 2011.

"How did your hat survive that whole thing?" Janis asks as Damian plops into the seat next to them with Cady's paperwork.

"I glued it to my head," Cady sniffs. Damian drops his pen in shock.

"You what?!"

"Only in the front, I used clips in the back," Cady replies. Damian sighs and rests his hand on his chest.

"Do not scare me like that," he replies. "Cads, when's your birthday?"

"July thirtieth," Cady says softly.

"Hey, my birthday's in July too!" Damian says. "Twinsies."

Cady can't help but giggle at his desperate attempt to cheer her up. "When's yours?"

"The thirteenth," Damian says.

"Man, I'm still the baby!" Cady huffs. "Miss January over here."

"Not my fault my parents know how to celebrate Easter," Janis shrugs. Cady gasps.

"Janis Sarkisian, we are in public!"

"Whatcha gonna do about it, tiny?" Janis retaliates. "Since we are in public."

"Hmph," Cady grumbles. She cuddles closer into her girlfriend's warm neck.

"You okay?" Janis whispers against her forehead.

"Hurts," Cady whispers back. "Are they gonna see us soon?"

"Probably not," Janis sighs.

Damian goes to hand in her paperwork at the front desk. Beyond that, all they can do is wait.

And wait they do. But, eventually, a nurse calls Cady's name and Janis stands to carry her back. Damian follows quickly, running after them through the winding halls.

"Alright, what seems to be the problem?" the nurse says. She does a double take when she sees the elf with one shoe on sitting on the exam table. She snorts a quick laugh but bites her lip to stop herself.

"I think I broke my ankle," Cady says softly. The doctor looks down at her one exposed foot and winces.

"It looks like that might be the case, hon. What happened?" the nurse asks, taking Cady's vitals. "Cross your arm over your chest."

Cady does when she fastens a blood pressure cuff around her wrist. "Um, I was in the parade this morning and I slipped on... something. I fumbled a flip and landed on it weird."

"Did you hear a pop when you landed or was it just a feeling?"

"I heard something pop, and I can't put any weight on it," Cady says anxiously. "And it's a little numb, and kinda... tingly, I guess."

"Mm," the nurse hums. "I'm gonna try and move it a bit, you let me know if anything hurts, alright?" Cady nods and braces as the mere brush of her fingertips against her ankle sends more waves of pain flooding up her whole leg and out her toes. "That hurt?"

"Mmhmm," Cady squeaks.

"Hm," the nurse hums again. "I'm gonna get the doctor to get you an x-ray, alright?

"Thank you," Cady says. She looks down at her lap with a quiet sniffle. She shakes her other foot and humphs at the jingle she gets in response.

"You okay, Peanut?" Janis asks quietly.

"What if it is actually broken?" Cady asks desperately. "I'm the head flyer, broken bones take so long to heal! It'll be weeks before I'm back in, what are they gonna-"

"We have protocols for this kinda thing, Cads, it'll be okay," Damian says. "We get injured all the time. I broke my wrist cheering in middle school and everything was fine. You just gotta take your time to heal."

"But-"

"If it is broken and you try to do anything you could hurt yourself permanently," Janis says. "Repetitive fractures? You have to rest. And we don't know for sure that it's broken yet, it might just be a bad sprain."

Cady sighs and nods. "Thanks for coming with me."

"Anytime, babe," Damian says, gently wrapping an arm around her shoulders and resting his head against hers. Cady blinks as his elf ear almost pokes her in the eye. Janis joins in too, and gets a jingle bell up the nose.

Her little crew gets left behind as Cady hops after the doctor towards the x-ray room. She holds as still as she can on the uncomfortable table and listens to the deafening clunks of the machine as it whirls around her foot. It's so loud she's a little worried it'll explode, but the doctor eventually returns from behind the lead partition and leads her back to her room to wait for the results.

It's a very quick wait.

"Your ankle is broken," the doctor says as soon as she walks into the room.

Cady feels her face crumple, and Janis wraps her in a tight hug as Cady lets out a quiet sob. "It's okay, Peanut, shh."

"It'll heal fine, no surgery needed. We call it a nondisplaced fracture, so none of your bones have actually moved out of where they're meant to be. You just need a cast for a little bit and you should be back to normal."

"So-so I'll still-still be able to-to cheer?"

"Not for six to eight weeks, but yes," the doctor replies with a smile. Janis squeezes her tighter as Cady releases a sob of relief.

"I told you," she murmurs, kissing Cady's cheek. Cady sniffles and leans into her shoulder. She needs Janis right now.

"Technically you broke your leg, the bottom part of your fibula here, and there's a hairline fracture in part of your tibia. But they're not displaced enough for you to need surgery, just a cast and no weight bearing for a good while."

"O-okay," Cady sniffs.

"You might wanna... de-elf yourself before we get the cast on, though. Unless you want to keep those tights for a few weeks."

Cady takes the wheel of possible cast colors and the pajamas Damian hands her from her bag. "These are cute! Where'd they come from?"

"Janis got them for me," Cady says with a sniffle as the doctor leaves and Janis and Damian both turn around to give her some privacy to change.

"Oh, did she now? How very soft of her," Damian hums. Janis shoves him. Damian sticks his tongue out in her general direction, unable to tell quite where she is with his hands firmly over his eyes.

"Shut up," Janis responds.

"Stop fighting, you can turn around now," Cady says once she's back in her comfy pajamas. "Which color cast should I get?"

"What's your favorite color?" Damian asks.

"Yellow," Cady replies.

"The purple is cool too," Janis says, tapping the little swatch of it. Cady nods.

Damian leans in close to see all the options. "I like the green."

"I like green," Cady acknowledges. "The Plastics will kill me if I get anything except pink, though."

"Pfft, who cares about them? Regina did this to you," Janis scoffs.

"Because we made her gain weight," Cady retaliates. "This light pink is cute."

"Do whatever you want, Cupcake."

"Cupcake?" Damian responds immediately, accompanied with a gag.

"Look at this little faaaaace," Janis coos, leaning harder into it and squishing Cady's cheeks rather than trying to fend off her friend. Cady goes along with it too, batting her eyelashes coquettishly at him. "Isn't she just the cutest widdle thing?"

"You two are gonna ruin my life together, aren't you?"

“Mm-hmm!" Cady hums happily, her cheeks still smushed in her girlfriend's hand. Damian rolls his eyes. Janis gives Cady's squished-out lips a kiss before she lets her go and smirks at her friend.

"You're the one who was literally speechless for four hours after we told you we were dating," she responds.

"I was in shock, shut up."

"Because your matchmaking never works?"

Damian huffs. "Whatever, it does."

"Name one time."

"This!" Damian insists, gesturing frantically between the two of them. Janis rolls her eyes.

"Whatever you say, Princess," she replies. Damian smiles.

"Thank you."

The doctor returns towards the tail end of that argument and shoots Cady a confused look. Cady just shrugs a little. She hands back all the cast swatches and goes with the light pink she had liked. She does really like it, and the Plastics won't crucify her for it. Well, they might anyway for what happened at the parade, and for needing a clunky, bulky cast in the first place. But at least this'll show she has decent taste and the ability to match.

Janis and Damian each take and squeeze one of her hands as her bones are painfully squished back where they need to be and wrapped in layers upon layers of fabric. The pink shell finishes the job, and Janis asks the doctor for a Sharpie so she and Damian can be the first to sign it.

"Do it small," Cady insists. Damian shoots her a strange look, but they both sign their names in the smallest letters they can right by her toes. Janis adds a little heart by hers for good measure. "Thanks, guys."

Cady gets fit for a set of crutches. It takes a while and she ends up with kids size ones, but eventually she's clicking slowly across the parking lot and finally on her way home.

"Jan, you wanna come over?" Damian asks. Cady pouts a little. She knows he and Janis are best friends, and that they definitely hang out without her sometimes, but it's not like Damian to ask with Cady right there.

"Nah, I gotta go get Stevie," Janis replies. Damian nods. Cady is confused when they pull into Janis' driveway. She should've been dropped off first. Her house is much further out of the way. "Bye Peanut."

Cady returns the kiss she gives. "Bye, baby."

Damian gags in the front seat. "Bye, dumbass."

"Bye, slut," Janis replies, blowing him a kiss as she climbs out of the car in the most complicated way she can and runs into her house.

Damian puts the car back in gear and keeps driving. Cady is more confused when they pull into his driveway. He turns the car off and gets out, leaving Cady alone in the backseat.

"You coming?" he asks, knocking on her window upon noticing she hasn't moved. Cady jumps.

“You're not taking me home?"

"I am not leaving you alone to navigate that house with one foot. But I'll take you home if you'd rather be there," Damian responds.

Cady shakes her head. "No. No, uh... thanks."

"Of course," Damian replies. "Now come on, cripple, my mom'll make us milkshakes."

"Your mom?" Cady asks with a smile.

"Oh, shit, you haven't met her yet! Uh, be ready for like, a lot of hugs. And she might cry. She's a big empath."

"Okay," Cady giggles. "She sounds great."

"She is," Damian says with a small smile. He unlocks the door and drops their stuff in the small area for shoes and coats and bags. "Ma, I'm home! And I brought Cady!"

Stanley comes running down the hall as soon as she hears the door. Damian protectively stands in front of Cady so the excited pup doesn't knock her over, but Cady smiles and rests her crutches against the wall so she can give the sweet little thing some scritches. "Hi, Stanley! How are you, baby girl?! Oh, yes, hi! I missed you too!"

"Stanley, gentle, Caddy's broken," Damian says. Stanley actually does calm a little bit, sniffing curiously at Cady and wagging her entire rear end instead of jumping on her like she did last time.

"Hey, baby girl!" Damian's mother greets, coming down the hallway in such a blaze of glory that it's immediately apparent where Damian gets his showmanship from. Cady looks up and smiles as she wraps him in a hug.

"Hi Ma," Damian responds, hugging his mom back and handing Cady her crutches again.

"How was the parade?" his mom asks, leading the two of them down the hall. She clocks Cady hobbling after them, then. "Ah."

"Yeah, she broke her ankle," Damian responds.

"At the parade?! Oh, honey!" his mom says immediately, wrapping Cady in such a tight hug she thinks she hears a few of her ribs pop. "You poor thing! Oh, come in, come in, sit down. Damian, help her to the living room, come on now."

"Can we go to my room instead?" Damian asks. His mom rolls her eyes.

"Yes, go ahead. It's on this floor, Cady, don't worry baby."

"Thanks, Ms. Hubbard," Cady replies with a smile. She gets another tight hug and actually has to cough a little when she's released to get her breathing back in a normal rhythm.

"Of course, baby! What kind of milkshakes do y'all want?"

"Oreo?" Damian suggests. Ms. Hubbard looks to Cady, and she nods eagerly. "Please."

"Coming right up."

"Thank you," Cady says as she's off back to the kitchen.

"Don't mention it, baby!" she calls back.

"Your mom is great," Cady says. Damian nods. Cady squeaks in surprise as he hauls her onto his back and starts carrying her down the hall towards his bedroom next to the garage.

"She is."

"She's very comforting," Cady continues. Damian nods again. "I see where you get it from."

"D'aww, thanks," Damian coos. He's actually blushing a little bit, and Cady smiles as he rests her down on his cushy bed. He fusses over her like a worried mother, helping her take her makeup and ears off as Cady looks around his bedroom for the first time. She's been here before for movie nights, but only ever in the basement.

None of the actual drywall is visible; completely plastered over with posters of drag queens and black-and-white photos of old Broadway stars. Cady can barely breathe for Judy Garland and Cher and RuPaul. There's fairy lights of all colors hanging from the crown molding, illuminating and twinkling over a full wall of Playbills in protective clear plastic sleeves. The furniture is a bit plain by comparison, but it all just feels like Damian's spirit has exploded into the room. It's amazing.

"Your room is so cool," Cady says.

"Thanks!"

"You have a lot of Playbills," Cady continues. "Have you actually seen that many shows?"

"God, no," Damian chuckles. "The top row there are the only ones I've seen in person, the rest are from eBay."

"Cool," Cady replies.

"Has Janis taught you about musicals yet?"

Cady shakes her head with a smile. "She said she wouldn't be able to do it justice."

Damian snorts. "Yeah, right. She just doesn't want to sit through them."

"She doesn't like them?"

"She only watches them once a year on my birthday and if I sing a lyric that could even approach being from a musical she'll punch me in the jugular."

"Really?"

Damian nods, fiddling with the mouse to wake up the computer and typing in his pin. "You've brought a lot of her walls down. So... thanks for that."

"I'm glad," Cady replies softly. "She deserves it."

"She does," Damian agrees. He shrugs suddenly. "Anyway, what do you want to watch?"

"You pick. I don't know anything," Cady giggles. Damian nods and opens a folder full of bootlegs. He murmurs the titles under his breath until he lands on a good first musical for her.

"Ooh! Okay, here, you'll love this one. The movie is good too, but the stage production is amazing."

Cady cuddles into his arm and peeks at the file name. She squeals, "Lions?!"

"Lions is an understatement for The Lion King," Damian says. Cady wiggles excitedly as he opens it and makes it full screen. "Can you see?"

"Mmhmm. Thanks, D."

"Anytime, Little Slice."

His mom pops in with their milkshakes a few minutes in and seems completely unphased seeing her son cuddled up with a girl she's known for fifteen minutes. Apparently this is normal for him. "Thank you, Ms. Hubbard."

"You're welcome, sweet girl. Y'all just holler if you need anything, alright? Ooh, Lion King. That's a good one," she replies as she leaves again.

"Cady's from Kenya," Damian explains.

"No shit?" his mom replies, making Cady choke on her milkshake in shock.

"Um, yeah, I just moved here this summer," she says.

"Ain't that something. Alright, have fun, you two."

"Thanks, Ma," Damian says as she shuts the door behind her.

They sip at their tasty milkshakes while they watch. Cady might be in love. She's immediately bopping along to all the musical numbers and oohing and aahing over the special effects.

Damian looks at her expectantly when the curtain call is over.

"That was so cool!" she squeals. "Can we watch it again?"

Damian laughs. "I'm glad you liked it. You like musicals now?"

Cady nods eagerly. "Yeah."

"Good," Damian says with a victorious smirk. He takes a picture of them cuddled up together and sends it to Janis with a caption reading, I win Caddy likes musicals. He gets an eye roll emoji in response and clicks off his phone with a smug grin. "Let's try something else, but we'll come back if you want to after."

"Okaaaaay," Cady huffs jokingly.

They watch about four more, occasionally shifting positions to keep comfy on Damian's plush bed. The milkshakes are long gone, but neither of them care.

"Thanks for taking care of me," Cady murmurs after the last one. Damian gently bumps into her.

"Anytime. Sorry Janis was busy, I know she wanted to be the one to kidnap you."

"No, it's okay," Cady says immediately. "I love her, but she'd be so worried she'd barely let me move. Not that that's bad, she's just... a lot, sometimes."

"You love her, eh?" Damian teases. Cady blushes. "Oh, shit, do you?"

"I mean... we've only been dating for a month," Cady begins hesitantly. "But... I might... already love her, like, a lot."

"D'aaawww, my little gaybies," Damian squeals.

"Shut up," Cady scoffs.

"She loves you too," Damian says matter-of-factly.

Cady looks at him. "She does?"

"I told you earlier. This bitch will not shut up about you. I've never seen her like this. It's kind of freaky," Damian chuckles. "Always, have you seen Caddy's eyes up close? They're such a pretty green. And she's sooooo tiiiiny, she just fits in my arms like a puzzle."

"She did not say that."

"On RuPaul she did."

Cady blinks. "Did I break her?"

"Honestly? Maybe. But I like it. She's annoying sometimes, but this Janis seems... healthier."

"Good," Cady replies.

"You, on the other hand," Damian replies, looking pointedly at her left foot. Cady giggles.

"It's fixed, I'll be okay," she replies.

"You got lucky there, kid. I really thought you were gonna need surgery," Damian says.

"I did too, honestly," Cady admits.

"...And now I think about it, Regina is a little chubbier."

"Right? It totally worked!" Cady squeals. Damian laughs. "Now we just have to get people to stop treating her like the queen bee and get Aaron out of her clutches."

"Godspeed, soldier. Doing the lord's work," Damian says with a salute. Cady giggles. "Do you, like, wanna go home?"

Cady sighs. "I should."

"Bitch, is that what I asked? Do you want to or not?" Damian insists.

"I mean... it's always weird there without my parents," Cady mumbles, fidgeting with her fingers. "But I don't wanna impose."

"Hold on," Damian says. Cady jumps when he turns his head to the side and hollers, "Ma!"

"What?!" his mother yells back.

"Can Cady sleep over?!"

"Her folks okay with it?!"

"Your folks okay with it?" Damian asks Cady in a much, much softer tone. Cady nods in confusion. Damian yells back, "Yeah!"

"Then she's always welcome! Dinner's in half an hour!" his mom replies.

"Thank you!" Cady yells.

"You're welcome, baby!"

"See? Problem solved," Damian says. Cady giggles.

"You're the best, D."

"And don't you forget it."

————-

thank you for reading!!

i have a oneshot coming for y'all on wednesday that i'm very (cautiously) excited about and am working myself to the bone trying to get the next chapter of this and another oneshot done per my usual "schedule" if you can call it that lol.

i apologize for not being more prepared but i spent most of february auditioning for the tour!! so that took a lot of my focus but it's done now and i am back in as full of a swing as i can get lol.

so fingers crossed! and if i don't get it done in time you'll just get three of each with my next round of fics :)

thank you all so much again for being here. i love every little one of you muppets so dearly.

lots of love,

ezzy

#mean girls #mean girls 2004 #mean girls musical #mean girls the musical #mean girls broadway #mean girls on broadway #mean girls 2024 #cadnis #paint by numbers #space safari #cady heron x janis sarkisian #cady x janis #cady heron #janis sarkisian #janis ian #janis ‘imi’ike #picking teams

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listlessdionysian · 5 months

Text

A Love Letter for Support Systems

Evening all. It's been a minute since I last posted something, and I'm currently to waiting to hear back from a couple of places regarding my latest short fiction submission - so in the mean time here's a quick, gushy post, about the often invisible support systems for writers.

(and maybe why you need one)

First off, this is a lonely and repetitive nightmare we're trapped in. The process of drafting, editing, submitting, swallowing rejection, and then doing the whole thing over again is often a solitary labour. It's also one you can't really discuss openly with people as it tends to prompt people to develop panicky swivel-eyes as they think about escaping from this frothy mouthed creature you've become. So while a lot of the nuts and bolts stuff is solitary, there's a myriad of things that feed into.

Speaking personally for a sec: I first started writing stories when I was sixteen or so. I made my first couple of submissions around that time, but had no idea what I was doing or why I was doing it. Fast forward a few years and I'm starting to have more serious and focused thoughts about what I want to do and why I want to do it, but with little to no motivation to start, or persist once I've started. Fortunately - for me, anyway - it was around this time that my then girlfriend (now wife) and I moved in together. She has always been my biggest cheerleader and my fiercest editor. Almost everything I've written, she's read - often more than once - and played a significant if not pivotal role in getting that project over the line.

While I may be the one sitting at a keyboard, hammering the keys, talking to myself, and occasionally staring deep, deep into the void that waits just beyond the borders of self-doubt - she has always been the one to first put me in front of that keyboard and then keep me there. It's through the small things: huge declarations of support and praise aren't necessary (sometimes not even helpful), rather it's the small gestures and acknowledgements that what you're doing matters. It's the new notebooks at Christmas. The cup of tea you've been craving but didn't ask for.

And above all it's listening. Listening when I'm stuck, listening when I'm excited, and listening when all I want to do is blow up my computer and pitch a tent at the bottom of the garden and sulk. My wife is an extraordinarily gifted writer, and frequently puts my work to shame without the slightest effort, but still finds it in her to support and praise me in my work. Her fingerprints are all over my every achievement, and her sweat and labour has mingled with mine. Every story, every essay, every last word - though I'm the one that's typing - is a shared effort.

It's the same for all of us - I think.

Writing, and art more generally, doesn't exist in a vacuum (and how we all love to say it). A story or a painting or an album exist at one end of a production line, into which goes everything from loved ones to friends to family to culture to our present moment in history. Everything is drawn in and mixed and mingled, and every piece of art is trying to say something. And while my work is often frenetic in its focus, I try to make sure that gratitude lies at the heart of everything I do.

We absorb and transform so much of the world around is in ways that often occur without reflection or effort. Something we overheard in a cafe or a bar. A line of dialogue from a TV show that's still ringing in your ears a week later. It pays to pause and consider the origins of what we do, and what we owe to those around us.

Anywho - I'll dredge up more of the usual fantasy gumph at some point in the next week, once the day joy settles.

-LD

#writing #writer stuff #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #thoughts #reflection

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1kook · 4 years

Text

hulu & woohoo

summary: But there’s more important matters to attend to than Jungkook’s Jersey Shore boner. warnings: slight feelings of insecurity, smut; fingering, cunnilingus, cum eating, squirting, handjobs, unprotected, riding, slight praise kink misc: if you’re not a Jersey shore fan honestly GET OUT, mentions of capitalism😡, more kind/understanding kook, basically a “what are we?” fic but silly, irresponsible emailing habits, its so dumb just read wc: 6.3k

[ this is a sequel to netflix & chill !! ]

started off silly then I was like 😳what if we sprinkled in a dilemma™️😳 anyway here’s the kook i imagined for this fic <3

Contrary to popular belief, Jungkook does in fact have his own paid subscription to Netflix. He doesn’t ride on his family account anymore, nor does he swindle his friends into sharing their passwords ‘just once.’ Just like everything else about his mature persona, Jungkook is adamant on paying those ten and something dollars for the streaming platform.

However, his fall into capitalism doesn’t end there.

Among other things, Jungkook also pays for Hulu, Amazon Prime, Disney Plus, HBO, as well as a couple indie stuff you’ve never heard of in all your years. He’s a bigger nerd than you originally thought, with an incessant need to watch every single piece of media available.

Frankly, you don’t see the need to own so many different streaming services, especially not when pirating websites exist and you could so easily watch Jersey Shore for free, if you’re not too concerned with infecting your laptop with every software virus known to humankind. Luckily for you, your app developer boo with his—admittedly tiny—knowledge in computers can iron out those issues for you.

It’s moments like these, Jungkook fiddling with the internal system settings of your laptop to the best of his abilities, that you find yourself grateful for having met Jungkook, and even if it’s been a little over two months now and he still hasn’t popped the question (“Will you be my girlfriend?”), you’d still kiss him silly.

He sighs for the umpteenth time, rubbing his eyes as he stares at the same system warning on the screen. “Babe, just pay the six bucks for Hulu and you can watch all the Jersey Shore episodes you want,” he says, leaning back in his chair as he stares at you from across the dining table.

You scoff, almost scandalized by his suggestion. “You think I have the resources to hand over six bucks every month?” You abandon your homework in front of you, the one you had so dutifully been working on before your computer was flooded with about a thousand Hot Moms in YOUR Area! notifications before abruptly shutting down. “Buddy, that's lunch at Starbucks.”

Jungkook clicks around a few more times, round glasses sliding down his nose which he will occasionally scrunch up to save from falling. “First of all, lunch at Starbucks sounds sad,” he retorts, and you kick his shin from beneath the table. He doesn’t even flinch, the damn muscle bunny, instead leveling you with an unimpressed glare. “Second of all, I told you I’d give you my passwords but you said—“

“No!” You exclaim.

Call it what you want, but that rose-tinted image of Jungkook being a saint in this world, too sweet and naive for his own good, never faded. Your brain saw it that night of your first date and ran with it, never mind the fact he was quite the devious scoundrel, gentlemanly perception be damned the way he’d tug at your skirts and your hair in public like you were on the playground, always teasing, always playing with you, so discreetly no one would ever see it coming from him, of all people. Your brain saw all that too, the little childish streak he’d get sometimes, but your heart stomped it out, wrapped up in the image of Jungkook being your golden boy, and you couldn’t possibly take advantage of such an angel’s kindness to mooch off his streaming services.

From across the table, Jungkook gives you a pointed look, as if he knows you’re trapped in that brain of yours again. Unlike you, Jungkook was easily able to pick apart your true personality, and the way the devil on your shoulder spoke more often than not. He knew you were prone to outrageous schemes and evil villain monologues, and he still kept you around. Let you linger around his home in his big shirts and eat his healthy breakfasts with him. Jungkook liked you, as silly and mean as you were, and he was very obvious about it.

“The password—“

“Is none of my business,” you halt him with a tone of finality in your voice, gesturing for him to slide the beat up laptop back over. Jungkook sighs, runs a hand over his face like you’ve worn him out, but relents.

Taking it with a triumphant grin, you settle back into your seat, nudge his foot with yours beneath the table. Jungkook nudges you back, the adorable fuzzy socks he was wearing making you giggle, a sound that finally brings a smile to his face. “Y’know…” he says, “if you’re gonna be the Disney villain you claim to be, you might as well just take all my passwords.”

Rolling your eyes, you focus your attention back on copying some notes for class, falling back into the rhythm of glancing at the screen and back at your notebook. “You’re cute,” you mindlessly hum, taking great pleasure in the rosy hue that rises to his cheeks, one he tries to hide by coughing into his elbow. You set your pencil down, watch him squirm under your gaze like he always does, blushy and shy like he hadn’t had you twisted like a pretzel beneath him an hour ago. “Don’t worry about it,” you tell him, reaching over to place your hand over his, where it’s idly tapping over some textbook he’s got out. Immediately, he turns it over, squeezes your palm in his. “I don’t mind getting thirty two viruses an hour.”

The reluctant worry in his gaze remains, sweet puppy eyes flickering over you as if trying to catch a hint of a lie. He was so adorable, you could kiss him silly. Finally, Jungkook gives in, though he does so with a lot of effort; letting you fool around on pirating websites truly was the bane of his existence. “Just bring it to me if it breaks down again, okay?” He settles, and you nod.

To your surprise, he brings your hand up and presses a kiss to the back of your knuckles, holds your gaze like he absolutely adores you.

He was so handsome, so caring, and so blatantly not yours.

—

“Not heading to your boyfriend's house today?” Doyeon asks the second she steps into your shared dorm, fighting with the boots on her feet. In the last two months of knowing Jungkook (everybody say thank you, Kim Namjoon), it’s become rare to see you home for more than two nights in a row. Jungkook was irresistible in more ways than you could count. If you weren’t falling into bed with him, you were smothering his cute face on the couch, or hovering behind him in the kitchen.

“Not my boyfriend,” you deny, huffy, and she knows how you feel about the subject, which is why she only prods more.

“Wow,” Doyeon drawls, glancing over your shoulder where you’ve got Jersey Shore playing on one half of the screen, an essay document on the other. “The man you see every other night, who looks and fucks like a god, who buys you a shit ton of presents, and treats you like you’re his world… is not your boyfriend?”

On screen, the toxic couple of the century is engaged in another screaming match, the reality tv show quickly spiraling as dramatic music takes over the speakers.

You scratch the back of your head. “Yeah. Well.”

Doyeon almost combusts at your response, flinging herself onto her twin bed in disgust. “He is a fool, a court jester if you will,” she seethes. “You're the hottest babe in a fifteen mile radius chasing after him and he still hasn’t asked you?”

Deciding you can’t comfortably watch the toxicity on screen with Doyeon talking so loudly, you slam down on the spacebar to pause the show. The fickity website, set out to ruin you since you first discovered it a few weeks ago, crashes. It takes your half-assed essay with it as the whole computer suddenly blacks out. You sigh.

“And on top of that,” she’s still going, “you’re hot and evil. Like bro. Come on.”

“Yes, I’m sure every man dreams of getting with an evil seductress,” you sarcastically reply, reaching for your phone to text Jungkook for help, when you suddenly remember why exactly you’re not with him right now. He’d gone to Busan to visit his family this weekend, a quick trip, he’d told you with his tongue down your throat. You shiver at the memory.

You still really want to watch Jersey Shore, though. Almost desperately. It’d been a long time since you watched it, and you honestly forgot the pivotal role that and a bunch of other reality shows had played in shaping you into the conniving woman you were today.

Doyeon seems about done with her tirade against Jeon Jungkook, dramatically storming into the en-suite bathroom you share with your neighbors.

Tapping your phone against your lip, you carefully consider your options. You could just boot your laptop back up, pray for the best and move on. But the 240p episodes were doing a number on your eyes, and for a moment you considered handing over those six bucks to pay for a Hulu membership.

It’s short-lived, and eventually you settle on calling Jungkook.

He answers on the fourth ring, and wherever he is is insanely loud. There’s voices shouting, lots of bustling, until eventually a door closes and Jungkook’s silky voice oozes through the speaker. “Baby? What’s up?”

“Hi,” you respond, feel something disgustingly sweet settle in your chest. “Is this a bad time?” You ask tentatively.

Jungkook laughs, low and raspy. “No,” he tells you, and you hear the smile in his voice. “Never a bad time for you.”

You could lunge through the screen right now, rain kisses down on his face until he’s giggling, telling you it’s too much. The feeling in your chest tightens, and you almost blurt out something embarrassingly cheesy, but a voice in the background calls for him, and Jungkook’s voice responds, “In a sec, mom. I’m talking to a friend right now.”

The glass roof shatters.

Even though you’d just told Doyeon you two weren’t a thing, despite all the coupley things you did, something about Jungkook telling his mom you’re just a friend isn't right. You frown, listen as his mother, a voice just as delicate as his, asks him to grab something from inside. With each second that ticks by, the discomfort you feel grows tenfold, until you’re barely holding yourself together.

Eventually, Jungkook returns. “So what’s up?” He asks again, and you remember what you initially called for. Putting on your big girl pants, you brush your uncalled for insecurities to the side, making sure he can’t detect anything in your tone.

“Your Hulu password. Can I have it?” You say, realize how robotical your voice sounds and belatedly throw in a, “please.”

Jungkook laughs, loud and boyish. The sound almost makes you melt, makes you fall for him even more. The niggling doubt in the back of your head still rings, but it’s temporarily washed away by the man on the phone. “Finally giving in?” He chuckles, doesn’t give you time to respond. “Sure, babe. I’ll text you the login stuff.” You hum, twirl your pencil idly as Jungkook announces he has to go, something about his family waiting on him. You bid him adieu, send him a halfhearted kiss over the phone, and only hope he feels half as content as you do when he does the same for you.

You don’t want to be dramatic about it. In your heart of hearts, you know Jungkook is just more reserved when it comes to dating. He wants to be one hundred percent sure your heart is in the same game as his, tied to the same rules, and putting in the same effort. But there’s a seed of insecurity that plants itself in the back of your head, tells you the reason Jungkook hasn’t asked you out is simply because you’re not good enough.

Jungkook was as rich as they come—not in money, but in personality. (Well, with the way he was advancing through his career, you get the sense he’ll be rich rich in the next few years too.) He had a huge heart, so caring and supportive of those around him, and an even bigger moral compass—hence the ridiculous amounts of streaming services he paid for—and you strongly believed no one was worthy of standing beside someone as wonderful as him.

Sadly, that meant you too.

Jungkook was your dream lover, and with every passing day, you were beginning to think you weren’t his. It had been two months since your first date, and realistically speaking, you know it’s not weird for people to casually date for such a time. It hadn’t been that long, truthfully, but the way you and Jungkook had clicked made it seem so.

He treated you like a queen, pleased your heart and body like no other. None of what Doyeon said earlier was a fib—he picked you up from school in that classy Benz, let you stay the night and sleep in his clothes, ate you out in the morning like you were his breakfast. You acted like you were in a relationship, but what exactly were the two of you?

Were Jungkook’s feelings even at the same level as yours?

Some days, you couldn’t fathom the idea of being so far away from him, texting him incessantly to feel a semblance of his presence. There was always a metaphorical elephant sitting on your chest, the weight of your unlabeled relationship, your insecurities, waiting for him to finally cut you off, decide you’re not what he wants. You wonder sometimes if he sees you out of convenience, but you always remind yourself Jungkook was too emotional and soft to drag someone around like that. (Or was he?)

Realizing how deep you’ve fallen into your spiraling pit of uncertainty, you shake yourself of those thoughts, mindlessly typing in the Hulu login credentials Jungkook texts you.

—

You’re in the student center when Jungkook comes home, laptop and books spread out over a circle table to stop anyone else from coming up to you. You’ve got your headphones in, the background sounds of late 2000’s club music from a Jersey Shore episode drifting through your ears.

A hand suddenly grabs onto your shoulder, and you send nearly half the table’s contents onto the floor when you screech, leg blindly kicking the table. “Woah, woah,” Jungkook calms, pulling out an earbud for you, and the sight of his face makes you relax again, before you’re striking his chest.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” you warn, shooting daggers at him as he pulls a chair close to you, plopping down beside you. Jungkook laughs, kisses your temple.

“You doing okay, beautiful?” He inquires, and your heartbeat, which had only just begun to settle from your fright, lurches at the hooded gaze he sends you.

You nod, unconsciously lean closer to him. Jungkook smiles, cheeks pulled tight when you plant a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Glad to hear it,” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to keep you close.

You never thought you’d be one of those people. Y’know, the couple shoving PDA down everyone’s throats in a very crowded place. But you can’t help it with Jungkook, gaze honed in on the mole beneath his lip as he recounts his trip to his family’s place. His hair is fluffy again, parted a little to the side to show his forehead. He’s got that big dark hoodie on, the one you love. Your love-addled brain thinks, I could give you a family, but you quickly shut that thought down.

There was no need to think as much for a man who wasn’t even your boyfriend.

Before you can spiral, there’s a set of fingers brushing over your neck, almost casually. You return your attention to Jungkook, watch him leisurely gaze over the bustling students around you. “Missed you,” he says quietly, like he doesn’t want anyone to hear. Hell, if your eyes hadn’t been trained on his face, you don’t think you would’ve.

Finally, he glances back at you. He says nothing, his eyes dipping down to your mouth. He leans forward, presses a smooch to your lips, only to smile at you afterward. “Come over?”

The difference between you and Jungkook is that you were very obviously, outwardly evil. You were not embarrassed to admit you were scheming, or that you had ulterior motives behind doing something. You used what you had to your advantage, mastered all types of expressions to get what you wanted.

Jungkook, on the other hand, was a subtle schemer. In fact, he was so goddamn subtle, you doubt he even knew he was a schemer.

But he definitely was one, and your experiences with him were enough to convince you so. There were times he’d stare at you longingly, like a puppy, until you’d do something for him. Times he’d use his demure face to lure you into going to the hardware store for him, into watching some boring documentary with him. Times, like now, where his voice was a little too smooth and low to be considered his normal pitch, clouded gaze sweeping over your features until you understood what he meant by come over.

Numbly, you nod, watch the quirk of his lips as he kisses you once more before gathering your things for you.

The car ride passes by in a flash, Jungkook’s hand on your knee, your head in the clouds. You imagine how easy it would be to just lean over right here, tug him out of his sweats and get that super suck 5000 on him. But Jungkook’s shy, the devil on your shoulder croons, he’d like it better in the backseat, where no one can see.

Your bag hasn’t even touched the floor yet when he pushes you against the door of his house, shoes and coats half off as he envelopes your lips with his.

His hands are warm, cupping your neck to guide you through the kiss, blindly pulling you down the hall. You feel him falter by the stairs, torn between just throwing you on the couch and ravishing you there or making the trip upstairs to the comfort of his bed. You reach up, run your fingers through his hair. “Wherever you want, baby,” you reassure him, and become consumed with glee when his hands grab into the backs of your thighs, hitch you into his arms as he rushes the two of you up the stairs.

The bed is as fluffy as you remember it, and you bounce up towards the pillows after he drops you on the end. He tugs his shirt over his head, chocolate strands coming out a mess afterwards, before crawling up your body. Jungkook’s hands are incessant, grabbing onto every inch of you he possibly can. He kisses up your tummy, pushing your shirt up as he goes, hikes it over the swell of your breasts to gently fondle them in his palms.

When he’s just about suffocated himself between them, he pops back out, catches your gaze with a twinkle in his. “Hi,” you squeak, and Jungkook grins, leaning up to kiss you.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he returns, let’s your tongue slide into his mouth, sucks on the appendage teasingly. You whimper, and Jungkook releases. “You miss me?” He asks, and if you hadn’t been well-versed in the art of Jungkook’s sexy talk, you wouldn’t have noticed the tingle of nervousness that curls around the question.

You placate him, “always.”

It’s all Jungkook needs as he wiggles you out of your clothes, shucks them off somewhere to the side. His hands trail over your body, massage your breasts and pinch the nipples. You sigh, melt into the sheets as he runs his palms over you. He rolls you over, pulls your hips up and carefully pushes your face into the mattress, pushing your hair to the side to peck your neck when he leans over.

“So soft for me, sweetheart,” he purrs, hands slithering around your waist, down your abdomen until the tip of his pointer finger is idly swirling over your clit.

You whine, clutch the comforter beneath you at the touch. “Oh, fuck,” you groan, push your hips back against him. He’s still got his sweats on, and you want desperately to turn around and rip them off of him, feel the press of his cock against your ass.

As if sensing your urgency, Jungkook calms you with kisses trailing over your spine, hot breath fanning over your neck. His fingers slow, just barely grazing over your clit. “Did you touch yourself while I was gone?” He asks, and you struggle to choke out a response when he presses his finger down against you.

“No,” you eventually gasp, jolt when his hand reaches down, glides through the swollen folds of your cunt.

As if content with your response, Jungkook lets his fingers caress you for a few beats, laps against the side of your neck as you whimper, beg him to continue. When he does, it’s with no ounce of his usual gentle attitude, two fingers shoving forcefully past the tight clench of your pussy lips, deep into your cunt. You shudder, gasping into the sheets.

“Good girl,” Jungkook praises, flutters a kiss right below your ear. Your neurons are working overtime, unsure of what to do as he explores your cunt, fingers dragging against your walls. You want to close your eyes, bask in his touches, but every brush of his fingers has them rolling back, fluttering open. “This pussy is mine, isn’t it?”

His fingers curl, briefly brushing over your soft spot. But it’s enough to make you cry out, pant against the sheets. “Yours,” you choke, push back against him like he’ll do it again.

A thumb circles your clit, and the tight feeling in your belly snaps, has you crying out his name as your first orgasm in a few days washes over you. “Jungkook,” you whimper, nearly sob when his hands pull away, letting you flop down onto the mattress in a boneless heap. Your thighs feel sticky, and you watch blearily as Jungkook hovers behind you.

“So quickly?” He chuckles, turning you back over. He spreads your legs, exposing your pussy to the cool air of the room, and you shiver. A lone finger drags over your cunt, collecting the glossy substance on the tip, before Jungkook is sucking it into his mouth.

He had an affinity for this kind of stuff, you’ve learned. Like he genuinely thought your cum was the most delicious thing in the entire world. That being said, you’re not surprised when he ducks down, pushes your legs to your chest as he begins devouring your pussy.

“Slow down,” you gasp, hand curling in his hair as he spares you not, sensitivity be damned. He was gonna lick you clean. He groans, tongue shoved into your cunt, cute nose brushing against your clit. “Kook,” you warn, though it’s more of a shuddered cry. “I-I’ll come again.”

He pulls off with a wet smack, licks over his tongue as he narrows you with a daring glare. Gone was your sweet Jungkook, replaced with this cum-eating heathen who only purrs, “in my mouth” at your warning.

You scream when the second orgasm hits you, pushing his face against your cunt as his tongue continues, lapping at your folds and your hole as a gush of wetness spurts out of you. For a second, your vision pales, soundless cries caught in your throat as you come all over his face. When you touch down on earth again, your body feels featherlight.

Jungkook is watching you from between your thighs, his face, hair, and chest glistening. “Oh fuck,” he gasps, shit-eating grin slowly consuming his features. “Did you just.”

You groan, cover your face with your palms as Jungkook settles over you, beaming excitedly at your newest ability. “No,” you whine, pushing him away from where he’s basically glued to your cheek. “That’s so weird.”

He laughs, cute and airy. “Fuck, sweetheart, you squirted all over me,” he sighs, cuddles against you, and you wrap your arms around him only to hide your face in his shoulder, also glistening with your pleasure. He shifts closer, and the hard press of his cock rubs along the inside of your thigh.

“Can we take a break?” You murmur quietly, hesitantly. “I can’t feel my legs.” Jungkook nods, presses a kiss to your temple as he gets off the bed, tossing his t-shirt over to you. He stumbles towards the en-suite, comes back with a dry face and chest; his hair is still damp. He tugs the sheets out from under you, cuddles close. He’s got the two of you wrapped up in no time, your head cradled against his shoulder as he reaches out blindly for the tablet he keeps on the side of his bed, the Hulu app already open.

“Any requests?” He hums, scrolling through the multitude of movies and shows. You wiggle closer, stop his finger when he returns to the home page, and Jersey Shore is the first thing to appear. “You’re kidding.”

“It’s a good show!” You defend, click on it before he can argue. You press closer, throw a leg over his waist where you can feel his still rock hard member hiding beneath his sweats. Poor guy, you think, he must be suffering. But you have to rest for a moment if you wanna ride the shit out of him and knock him breathless like you’d planned.

Jungkook doesn’t comment on the erection he’s sporting, instead choosing to criticize everything wrong with Jersey Shore. You’re not surprised. He’s an avid film nerd, obsessed with ‘real’ storylines, not whatever reality tv shows were.

You’ve seen this episode about a hundred times, so you don’t really mind that he completely ruins it for you with his nitpicking. It’s cute, listening to him ramble about television integrity while you listen to the subtle thudding of his heart beneath your ear.

He’s on his fifth slandering of DJ Pauly D when you decide you’ve had enough, muscles in your legs feeling rejuvenated as you wiggle into his lap, toss the tablet off to the side as you straddle him. “That show makes you hard?” You tease, let your sensitive folds settle over the bulge in his pants.

Jungkook combusts, cheeks flushing at your jab. “No,” he huffs, “my pretty girlfriend’s boobs pressed up against me does.”

You short circuit.

“Huh?” You blurt dumbly. Jungkook rolls his eyes, too concerned with guiding your hips over his crotch to realize you’re having a complete meltdown in your head. An airy moan leaves his mouth, head lolling back against the pillows, when he moves you just right, grinds against you perfectly. But there’s more important matters to attend to than Jungkook’s Jersey Shore boner. “Kook,” you say, cup his face in your palms to force him to look you in the eye.

Jungkook huffs, pointedly looking down at where you sit on him, “babe, gonna need you to—“

“What did you say?” You interrogate, press your foreheads together until he has no choice but to look at you.

Annoyed with your act, he groans. “Babe, your hips,” he urges, almost desperately.

“No,” you retort, “not until you say it again.”

“Say what again?” He cries, lips twitching in irritation, and you’re about two seconds from behind shoved into the mattress, pounded into from behind like he’d done the last time you teased him a little too much.

“That I’m your girlfriend!” You exclaim, heart hammering in your ears.

Jungkook seems to finally halt at that. “Oh,” he responds, leaning back to scan over your expression. “You are?” He says, unsure of what point you’re trying to make.

Your brain fizzes at the news. “Since when?” You cry, suddenly feeling dumb for all the time you spent moping over this perfect boy you thought didn’t want you. “You never asked!”

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed stare, reaches over for the iPad you tossed to the side, some dramatic fight scene on a boardwalk taking place on screen. You wanna scream. Why is he so concerned with Jersey Shore now of all times?

Before you can rain down your displeasure on him, he’s turning it around and showing you a bookmarked email.

It’s from you, apparently, sent a few weeks back at exactly two in the morning. You glance at the date received. It’s from Doyeon’s half birthday, when the two of you had drunk yourselves silly on wine. The title is some mix of dashes and exclamation points, but that’s irrelevant when the contents of the email come to view, some stupid slur of beeee myyy boyfrienderdd????? ;))((;;; that has your jaw dropping in mortification.

You glance back at Jungkook, who seems just as confused as you. “What the hell?” You shriek, snatch the tablet from his hand to see that not only was it a single email, but a thread of emails all asking the same question—there’s even a three stanza sonnet detailing your love for the mole on the side of his neck. You could die. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?! I was so drunk— how could you even take me seriously?”

Jungkook shrugs, almost amused now as he watches you scroll through the twenty emails you sent him. “The next day you told me you really liked me over lunch, so I didn’t mind. Besides, drunk words are sober thoughts, y’know.”

You stare in disbelief. “You told your mom I was your friend,” you whisper.

The blood rises to his cheeks quickly. “Babe,” he sputters. “I’m not exactly introducing her to every girl I date after three weeks.”

It makes sense, and you hate how much it does so. Pursing your lips, you look away, focus on the bedside table and hope he doesn’t see the tears that threaten to spew out of your eyes. He does, he always does. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He hums, sits up to pull you into his arms. One hand brushes over the back of your head, gently. Softly. “Did that upset you?”

You shake your head no, can’t help the ugly Kim Kardashian sob that rips itself from your throat. “I thought you didn’t like me,” you sniffle, covering your face with the iPad when he tries to duck closer and get a look at you. “Because it’s been two months.”

Jungkook shushes you, hugs you close to his chest as you cry like a baby over some apparently unjustifiable doubts. “That big brain of yours,” he sighs, kisses the frown of your head. “Too busy being evil to be logical.” You whine in protest, and Jungkook chuckles, carefully laying back with you clinging to his chest.

He lets you cry it out, palms rubbing over your back, listens to the annoying Jersey Shore opening song playing when the episode ends. When you’re done, you sit up, try to pretend your eyes aren’t swollen and puffy. Jungkook smiles. “All good?”

You might love him.

“I’m gonna ride you,” you announce, and he chokes in surprise, and before he can try to convince you it’s okay, you’re wrestling his sweats and boxers off, taking his half hard cock into your hand. Jungkook flounders, tries to calm you down, but you’re on a mission, working your hand over him until he’s fattening in your hold, melting into the pillows.

“Baby,” he grunts, rolling his hips into your palm. You lean over, pucker your lips and let a thick drop of saliva fall onto the tip of his cock. It trickles over your fingers, makes it easier to run your hands over him. Jungkook groans, reaches down to cup his hand over yours, urging you to squeeze tighter.

When he’s finally as hard as you want him, tip engorged and angry, you sit up, place your palms on his chest as you scoot over him. Jungkook watches you with dark eyes, skin flushed as you line him up. His hands reach for your hips to steady you, tiny gasps falling from his lips at the first prod against your folds. You’re wet from watching him squirm beneath you, from feeling the heavy weight of his cock in your hand, and you hope he feels how much he excites you.

“That’s it,” he croons as you slowly sink down on him, whimpers catching in your throat from the stretch. “That’s my girl.”

Jungkook is purposeful with his words, smiles at you when the muscles in your thighs jolt at the term. When you’re seated to the hilt, folds brushing against his pelvis, Jungkook ruts experimentally. “Fuck,” he chokes breathlessly.

You let your body adjust, spine tingling with every subtle shift from the man beneath you, still so sensitive from your two orgasms from before. Jungkook waits, even though you know all he wants to do right now is fuck up into you like a madman.

When you’re relaxed enough, you begin to move, pushing yourself on your knees slowly, hissing at the drag of his cock against your folds. “F-Fuck,” you whimper, fingernails scratching against where you’ve got them on his chest still. Jungkook grips your hips tightly, and you unconsciously reach for his forearms to steady yourself instead.

“There you go,” he purrs as you slowly pick up the pace, cock sliding inside of you rougher, faster. You know it’s mostly him, muscles in his arms flexing as he moves you up and down, but you don’t care—it feels so good, the upward curve of his cock brushing against your soft spot with each drop of your hips.

He holds you down on one thrust, grinds you over his cock until your clit is rubbing against him roughly, and you cry out his name. You want to kiss him, so very badly, but your position makes it hard. Besides, the sweat beginning to pool in the deep of his collarbones hinted at his oncoming orgasm.

Still, you can’t help the way your eyes instinctively go to trace over his mouth, pouty lips pushed out even more in exertion, teeth grinding together every time your pussy swallows him anew. “Kook,” you mewl, hips bucking forward.

He hums, plants his feet firmly on the mattress as he begins fucking into you. “What is it?” He grunts, pistons into your dripping cunt as you whimper, pleasure crawling up and down your spine. “My pretty girl needs something?”

You wail, nod your head as he continues fucking, ramming his cock into your quivering hole, precum dripping over him. “Yours,” you gasp, mind stuck on what he’d said earlier. “‘M all yours,” you sob, body finally giving out, and you barely catch yourself from falling into him with a palm pressed flatly against his chest.

Jungkook smirks, bucks into you brutally, like he wants you to fall into a boneless heap on top of him. “Yeah, you are,” he groans, as you finally give in, lips brushing against his ear when you flop down on him. “My pretty girl,” he huffs, and you nod, muscles pulled taut as your orgasm begins looming over you. “So cute and mean,” he rambles, lips pressed to your temple. His hips are beginning to lose their rhythm, thrusts growing stilted as he chases his high. “But you know what?” He murmurs, and you whimper. “I like her just like that.”

If his words don’t knock the air out of your lungs, your orgasm surely does. It makes you shudder, the way his hands run over your body, cock ruts into your heat, and you almost cry when the pleasure gets a hold of you. Your muscles tighten, and then loosen, melting into his chest. You’re trembling in his arms, like a leaf holding onto a branch for dear life, choked gasps of his name muffled against his neck.

Jungkook pistons into you, rounds the final corner in his race to orgasm, and eventually spurts his hot cum into you, coats your walls as another reminder that you’re his. He’s a silent orgasmer, sounds catching in his throat as his body twitches beneath you, silent even afterwards as he regains his senses.

A few moments later, you’re shifting out of his hold, pushing yourself onto your elbows to glance down at him. Jungkook’s eyes are shut, but, as if sensing you’re looking at him, he flutters them open, chocolate irises softening at the sight of you.

“Holy shit,” he groans, rolls you off of him carefully. His hand brushes over your thigh, like he’s contemplating licking you clean again, but you stop him with a pointed raise of your brows. “Fine. Pass me the tablet.”

You do, and it’s almost unnerving how easily the two of you slip back into comfort, Jungkook changing into some shorts and handing you your discarded panties, before climbing into bed to watch Jersey Shore. You’ve missed about an entire hour-long episode, so you end up rewinding until the point you last saw.

“You and your Netflix and chilling,” Jungkook snorts, head nestled against your breasts. You roll your eyes.

“This is Hulu,” you point out.

“Oh yeah,” he hums, snuggles closer. His body feels so nice and warm over yours, hands wrapped around you like a lifeline. You end up positioning the tablet off by your hip, supported by a pillow so the two of you can watch properly.

You’re still processing your new title, your new boyfriend, when he perks his head up suddenly, solemn gaze catching yours.

“Hulu and Woohoo,” he says, ever so seriously, and you understand why Doyeon thinks he’s a fool.

[ part three ; imax & climax ]

#goldenclosetnet #ksmutclub #networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #mine

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justkending · 3 years

Text

Is that seriously your password? (Birthday One-shots)

Prompt: Is that seriously your password?

Challenge: justkending Birthday drabbles and one-shots

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2100+

A/N: This was asked for a by anon, so thank you to whoever you may be! I thought this was cute little one-shot once it came to me! Also, coming up with the password took me a seconds, but then I heard Sebastian's voice in my head and well... Here we are;)

“Hey FRIDAY? Who all from the team is in the compound?” Y/N shouted from Tony’s lab where she was working on a new piece of equipment for her uniform.

“Everyone is out either on a mission or off the compound premises for personal business,” the AI responded. “However, Sergeant Barnes is in the living room reading.”

“He works. Can you ask him to come down here?” she continued, never breaking from her computer screen she was typing away on in front of her.

“Of course,” FRIDAY responded before going quiet for a minute and speaking back up. “He seemed rather confused by the request, but he’s on his way.”

“Always paranoid that one,” Y/N mumbled before shouting a thank you and going back to typing a storm.

A few minutes later, Bucky cautiously peaked through the glass doors to the lab and saw Y/N completely entranced in whatever she was working on in front of her. She was typing and scanning the screen quickly and then immediately turning to a notebook beside her to write whatever it was down.

“Why are you calling me down here out of all people?” he said almost concerned.

“Because everyone else is either fighting bad guys or off away from the compound doing their own thing,” she responded, finally breaking away from her computer screen upon hearing his voice.

“Oh,” he nodded before looking around and hesitantly coming in more.

He didn’t care to come down to Stark’s personal man cave much. Tony still threw sarcastic insults and passive jokes at him every once in a while even though they had made up and moved on. But it was Tony. He was kinda that way with everyone. Either way, they only really crossed paths if they absolutely needed too.

“Here, come here for a second,” she waved him over, pushing back her chair as she stood up and stretched some.

Bucky listened even though his face showed he was confused and hesitant about it all. It wasn’t Y/N either. They were actually good friends after all the missions and team dinner and movie nights of getting to know each other. They shared a lot in common. She was an old soul for a pretty young member of the crew and Bucky admired that. Because of her mannerisms and interest, they got a long rather quick. It made it easy for them to instantly click.

“What are you doing?” he asked when he saw her raise her hands and projections of pieces of her suit for missions popped up in pieces in the air with what looked like notes and statistics floating around them. The blueprints for it all lit up in front of them without a screen to stay on. He may never get used to the advancement of technology because anytime he saw something new, something crazier would pop up soon after.

“I came up with some new little tricks for my suit. It’s not not a bad outfit, but there’s always something new that can be better and improved,” she shrugged, moving the pieces around in the air with her fingers.

Oh yeah, and next to Tony and Banner, the woman could maneuver through almost any form of technology as if it was as easy as learning how to count to 10 on your fingers.

“I only have the metal on the bottom of my boots, and it’s worked for this long. But, I feel like there’s ways I can discreetly add more throughout the suit without weighing it down, making it easier to maneuver when I’m airborne.”

Another note to know, Y/N was an enhanced. She had the ability to bend and manipulate any form of metal. So the metal that Tony had built into her shoes made it to where she could lift herself off ground level and fly. However, through trial and error, they noticed that they couldn’t really add it to many other places as it weighed her down and made fighting a lot less agile. Don’t get it wrong though. She made it work. She just preferred it to be better.

“Sounds like a smart idea.” He paused in the silence as she continued to analyze the layout in front of her silently. “Did you just want company to show off that big brain of yours, or am I supposed to give you an opinion?”

He was sassy with her. She was sassy back. It was the way of their friendship for the most part.

“No, Barnes. I need you to give me your password,” she said, wrinkling her nose at him with a stink face before moving back to the computer. He chuckled at her facial expression and followed her to her setup.

“Why do you need my password? You have your own account,” he questioned, watching as she went to log into the files under SHIELD's confidentials.

“No, actually. Mine went caput last night,” she huffed. “Some weird glitch happened, don’t ask me how because you would think Stark tech is more advanced, but whatever caused it made my account go haywire. In saying that...” She clicked a few more things moving faster than Bucky could keep up with on the screen. Then she turned to him and leaned back on the counter. “Tony was supposed to make me a new one or fix it, but he bailed on me today for brunch with Pepper... In Capri.” She let out a big breath. “So until he gets back, I’m at a standstill getting the information I need to fix this.” The smile on her face showed she was done telling her story.

“So you need my password to get confidential information?” he asked, crossing his arms and putting his weight onto one leg. “What kind of confidential stuff are we talking here because I don’t need Tony going through my history and asking me questions I can’t answer,” he pointed with raised eyebrows.

“Highly doubt he cares or has the time to go through your history, Buck,” she laughed, turning back around and raising her hand with a swift motion bringing the chair to her without actually touching it.

Bucky looked down at it as it moved and noticed the metal base of it. He was always shocked anytime she used her powers. For one, she was rather graceful with her own for the most part, so the act of watching her do it, was somewhat mesmerizing. But also, he was still trying to wrap his head around people born with abilities like that. Wanda really threw him for a loop the first time he met her.

Shaking out his head and following to stand by where she was sitting, he argued with her statement.

“Yeah, I’d think about that again,” he winced. “Out of all the people Tony is going to keep an extra eye on, who do you think it is?”

Y/N paused and turned to him scrunching her nose.

“Ok, yeah you’re right,” she nodded. Bucky sent her a look in agreement. “But I promise it’s not for anything crazy. I just want to find a resource for the lightest metal we can get our hands on. I think if I can get some of that, I can place it throughout my suit to not weigh it down as much and make any hand to hand combat about 100x easier and more fluent.”

“Sounds like a solid plan. What file do you think is going to hold something like that?” he nodded, crossing his arms again and leaning his backside on the table facing her in her chair.

“The same one that talks about vibranium,” she sassed some. “I just want to run some analytics to see my options on what will be most malleable for the suite. Some metals may be lighter, but that doesn’t always mean suitable for tons of kinesthetic motions.”

“You’re too smart for your own good,” he shook his head, smiling at her.

“I know. I got the beauty and brains,” she smiled with a shrug, but she was playing around. Y/N was never one to boast about herself. She was as humble as Tony was egotistical. “Ok, enough small talk. What’s your password, Barnes?”

All that was left to do on the page she had pulled up was type in said password and she was in.

“Uh, I don’t really want to say it outloud,” he said, becoming bashful all of a sudden. His arms tightening around him self consciously.

“Why?” Y/N asked with a tilt of her head. “Scared I’ll remember it and hack your account? May just search for some things that Tony would love to tease you about.”

“Haha,” he said flatly. “And no. I know for a fact you would never do that. You’re too nice for that,” he responded. “It’s just. It’s an embarrassing password.”

“It can’t be that bad. Come on, just say it Mister so I can get my research done!” she persisted, poking his flesh arm.

“Here, let me just type it,” he said, moving to the keyboard.

“Nuh-uh,” she said moving the keyboard with a flick of her wrist out of his reach. Damn practically everything for having some form of metal in it. “I’m too intrigued now. I want to know what it is…” The mischievous gleam in her eye showed Bucky he probably wasn’t going to win this.

“What happened to your sweet innocent self?” he said slightly shocked by her antics, but not able to hold back a chuckled.

“It’s her off day today. She needed a break… And a little fun,” she smiled wider. “Come on. Just tell me. I promise I won’t make fun of you.”

“I don’t think you can keep that promise.”

“Have I ever not?”

“I mean that one time when you promised to make chocolate chip pancakes because I was having a bad day, and then ditched me for a mission,” he noted. The fake hurt was exaggerated in his eyes.

“Hey! I have no control over when something like that comes up,” she pointed at him. “You know that too on a personal level.”

“Still never got those pancakes though,” he said, letting out a disappointed sigh as he shook his head.

“Ugh, fine. How about this?” she started, leaning back in her chair. “You tell me your password, and if I laugh then I go make you those famous pancakes now. If I don’t laugh, you have to drop that whole thing and not bring it up again.”

He weighed his options watching her. The two staring into each others eyes bargaining in silence. Sure Bucky didn’t want to say his password, but worse case scenario she laughed, maybe teased him a litt, but he got pancakes. And he knew she would laugh…

“Fine. But just know, I like my pancakes with extra chocolate,” he sighed, relaxing his muscles some. “And whip cream.”

“Won’t need to. I’m tough enough to not react to whatever it is,” she smiled, bringing the keyboard back over. “Ok, so what is it?”

He stayed silent for a minute. God, he hated saying it outloud. Not that he really ever had to, but still. It was embarrassing.

“It’s… It’s WienerSoldier1917,” he mumbled.

“I’m sorry, what?” Y/N said with wider eyes. She heard him, but she was wondering if she heard him right.

“The W and S are capitalized…” he practically whispered looking down. When he didn’t hear a response but insead deafening silence, he looked over seeing her biting her lip and trying her best to suppress a laugh. Her face became slightly red and her eyes started blinking fast as she tried to pull herself together. “Yeah, I’m definitely getting those pancakes,” he sighed with a shake of his head, not being able to hold back his own soft smile.

Not even two seconds later, Y/N was in a laughing fit. Practically falling out of the chair. If Bucky hadn’t caught her when he did, she would have gone over the side and brought the chair down with her, but he casually kept the chair from tipping with one arm.

“Oh, that’s just too good,” she finally got out after a few minutes of full on, stomach aching laughing. She wiped her eyes at the few tears that had come down and shook her head. “Is that seriously your password?”

“You know Tony came up with it! And he knows I don’t know how to change it!” Bucky defended.

“Oh, Tony. What a comedian…” Y/N sighed, catching her breath. “Ok, back to business.” She typed in the password not being able to hold back yet another round of laughs as she typed it out. Bucky just rubbed his temple as she went about her research and giggled.

After pulling up a few things, she turned to him.

“Ok, I own you a batch of pancakes now,” she smiled, standing and organizing the desktop. “I’ll come back and finish up down here later.”

“You’re not even upset you laughed, are you?” Bucky said following her in step to the door.

“Oh, I knew I was going to already with how you were acting. I also knew I was hungry and up for something sweet anyway,” she shrugged. “Win, win for me.”

“You’re a punk,” Bucky faked shock, nudging her shoulder with his own before opening the door for her.

“Eh, like I said. Sweet-innocent Y/N, as you called her, has a day off,” she smiled up at him before wrapping her arm through his. “Hey, and after breakfast? I’ll show you how to change your password,” she looked up at him with a wink.

The two chuckling and talking as they walked upstairs arm and arm to the kitchen.

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon @lauravicente @kakakatey @traceyaudette @notyourtypicalrose @laneygthememequeen @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sandlee44 @thorne93 @thefaithfulwriter @marvelfansworld @essie1876 @greyeyedsmile14 @capsiclehan @xostephanie @averyrogers83 @awesomenursingstudent @gh0stgurl @cs-please @carls1022 @jjlevin @rainbowkisses31 @carls1022 @anise-d-castle6 @deannotmoose @their-bibliophile @kitkatd7 @willowbleedsonpaper @mariaenchanted @snffbeebee @couldabeenamermaid @rebekahdawkins @alyispunk

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker @charmedbysarge @jbarness

@bellamy-barnes

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx @death-unbecomes-you @heyiamthatbitch @lizzymacy555 @srrymydood @xa-dia @redhairedfeistynerd @morganclaire4 @connie326 @captain-asguard @mollygetssherlockcoffee @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses

#bucky barnes one shot #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes x y/n

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leiawritesstories · 3 years

Text

Speak To My Heart

Rowaelin Month, Day 15: A bad day

Word count: 3422

Warnings: language, bit of depression, fighting. In short, there is angst in this fic. Hope the ending makes up for the rest.

Linguistics and foreign languages are two of my personal passions, so please bear with the bits of language talk that I couldn’t resist including. Brief word of clarification: a lot of expressions we use in English either translate into something extremely rude or don’t make sense in other languages. Translation companies have been trying for quite some time to make sure they don’t accidentally send a client a translated instruction manual that reads “fuck your mother” instead of “for questions, contact your local energy department.” All right I’ll get off my soapbox. :)

The phrases in foreign languages, marked with *, are translated into English at the end. Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rowan’s day had been shit. The second he walked through the door, he’d been bombarded with an endless slew of crash reports, malfunctioning equipment, faulty passwords, and best of all, having to rewrite half the security firewalls because one of the rash young idiots in his department couldn’t be bothered to check his work for errors before sending it to management. And management thought it was the department boss’s job to fix all of his employees’ fuckups.

He hated IT.

Even more so since being promoted to department chair.

All he wanted to do was the fun stuff--program design and development, fixing the flaws in his own designs, and of course making those who tried to break into his company’s systems regret their pitiful existence. But Cadre Tech’s bitch of a CEO refused to let the best software engineer on her staff actually do his job.

Most days, he could cope with the pile of useless shit she directed to his desk. Most days. Today was not one of those days. Probably because on top of all the meaningless tasks he’d had to field, he was also forced to sit through one of Maeve’s bullshit “department head strategy sessions,” where every department chair had to pretend they gave a single shit about any word coming from their CEO’s garishly red, pinched mouth.

As if she knew anything her staff actually did.

Thanks to the compulsory meeting, Rowan was stuck in his office at nearly ten o’clock, painstakingly combing through the final draft of the update to CT’s translation program. This program had shot the company to fame and fortune, or at least insane stock value. “A Google Translate that actually translates,” their marketing department called it, and by the gods, that stupid slogan worked. And made sense. Rowan knew the program was just as good as it claimed to be.

He’d put in the hours, alongside a team of linguists, software engineers, designers, and people fluent in at least one other language. Frequent were the sessions where the project whiteboard turned into a jumble of words in twenty or more languages, Spanish alongside Arabic next to a column of simplified Japanese characters spilling over into a row of Cyrillic lettering. Rowan himself spoke German and some Spanish, but even he was lost amid the cacophony of eighteen different people switching from language to language, trying to figure out how idiomatic expressions translated from one language to another and what words should never, ever be placed together.

It took the team well over a year of bickering, or as they called it, friendly linguistic disagreements, to make it from loosely mapped concept to functioning program. By the time it hit the market three years ago, the software had been so well promoted that companies all over the world snapped up their chance to finally communicate properly with the client they’d offended years ago with a bad translation.

At launch, of course, Maeve stood in front of a sea of shouting reporters brandishing microphones, smiling her serpentine smile, and proceeded to thank the creative team for all their “contributions” before taking all the credit herself.

Said creative team went to the bar that had become their usual gathering spot that night to get drunk and shit-talk their horrible boss, not necessarily in that order.

His favorite memory of that night was hearing the chief linguist, an outside contract with multiple advanced degrees who spoke eight separate languages besides English fluently, refer to Maeve as “quella puttana rugosa che non riusciva a convincere un cazzo a venire a dieci metri da lei se si vestiva da figa.*” The Italian speakers on the team were crying with laughter, and so was everyone else, once she translated it.

And then she downed another shot of vodka and hissed something that sounded like “sukya bliyad, no puedo mich betrinken con esta ordures.**” When everyone blinked in confusion, she sighed and relayed the sentiment in English.

Nobody had laughed as hard as Rowan. Aelin Galathynius just had that effect on him.

She brightened his darkest days.

But she couldn’t ease the strain of today.

And it was all his fault.

Aelin glanced up at the clock on her wall and cursed in three different languages when she saw that it was nearly eleven. Without meaning to, she’d spent all afternoon and evening writing lesson notes on idiomatic expressions. She really couldn’t help herself once she got into the topic; it was her pet project.

And the subject of one of her dissertations. Yes, she had multiple.

She’d worked her ass off for years to get through college, then through graduate and doctoral work while teaching at universities to offset costs, then earned a full-time teaching position at one of the top-ranked universities in the world. She got to teach linguistics, her lifetime love, and give guest lectures at other universities and at conferences, teaching people all over the world about the complexities and interrelatedness of language. Hell, she spoke ten; she’d be qualified to speak on linguistic relationships by virtue of that alone.

Gods, she was the chief linguist behind the most successful translation software ever produced. Even if the bitch who owned the rights to said software had literally threatened to sue over ownership rights if any of the people who’d poured their figurative blood and sweat and literal tears into building the program tried to claim a small piece of the credit each of them so richly deserved.

That software and her role in its creation--even though Maeve Ond had claimed the public credit, the creative team spoke at interviews and made news features for their work in Cadre Tech’s massive success--had solidified her credentials as a professor of linguistics, had boosted her into her lecturer spot.

Last year, her university granted her tenure.

She should have been overjoyed, and she was, but not as much as earning tenure deserved.

Because there was nobody to share her joy.

Three years ago, in the wake of CT’s overnight jump to worldwide fame, Aelin fled a love she did not and never would deserve.

She told herself she would never look back. But she did. Almost every day, she looked back at the life she’d shared with Rowan and tried to convince herself that she did the right thing.

Try as she might, she could never silence the whisper that echoed always in her mind.

“You broke both of your hearts”

Someday, she told herself, someday she would be back in Doranelle. Someday, she would have a chance to apologize. Someday, maybe she could fix the Rowan-shaped chasm that gaped wide in her heart.

Yet here she was, sitting in a very nicely appointed hotel room in the university district of Doranelle, typing furiously away as if burying herself in notes and prep for tomorrow’s lecture could make the urge to contact Rowan disappear.

Three years earlier. Doranelle.

“Knock, knock.”

Rowan’s head jerked up from where it had most definitely not been slumped on his desk. “Wha--Oh. Hi, Aelin.”

“You’re falling asleep, buzzard, let’s go home.” He heard laughter in her soft voice.

“As if you won’t just get home and start cross-checking every single one of the phrases on your ‘potential problem’ list.”

She chuckled, walking over to him. “Fine. We’re both perfectionist work whores. Doesn’t mean we don’t need sleep.”

“I know you too well to believe you’re actually going to sleep.”

“All right, you win. Come home now, I’ll make some food, and you can put me to bed.” She winked saucily at him, leaving very little doubt what putting her to bed would entail, and he was up out of his chair in seconds.

“Hand over your computer, Fireheart,” he grinned as they walked into the small house they shared on the outskirts of the city.

“What?”

“Your computer, love. I’m leaving both of our work bags on the shelf by the front door so we can actually catch some rest tonight.” He pressed a finger to her mouth to silence her protests. “Uh-uh, Ae, we have interviews tomorrow and I won’t let the genius behind this program’s flawless word-to-word be anything but well-rested.”

She sighed, but he saw the love in her eyes. “Here, then, my dear brilliant software engineer. Leave your notebook, too, because I know if it’s anywhere near you, you’ll be up at three in the morning scribbling blocks of gibberish and picking apart your faultless code until you go insane.”

Both of their work satisfactorily put aside, Aelin made good on her promise to cook Rowan dinner.

And then he made very good on his promise to put her to bed.

The next morning, they were both awake with the sunrise, content to lay curled in each other’s arms as the morning light spread across their room.

Rowan drifted back into sleep, waking for good when he caught a whiff of coffee from the kitchen’s direction.

“Morning, you sleepy buzzard,” Aelin grinned, sipping from her mug.

Rowan dropped a kiss on her head as he reached for his mug. He took a long drink, sighing as the milky, sweetened caffeine hit his mouth.

“I will never understand how you drink your coffee black, Fireheart.”

“Not all of us need to sweeten the hell out of coffee to drink it, Ro. Maybe if you can’t handle the real thing, you should go back to your pretty little cups of crappy cafe tea.”

“Mention my pretty little teacups again, Ae…”

She giggled. “You be quiet and drink your coffee-flavored milk, my love. We both know you’re impossibly grumpy until you have caffeine in your veins.”

He grumbled something unintelligible as he drank his coffee.

They were nearly late to work that morning, even having planned an extra half hour to arrive, thanks to Aelin wearing what Rowan dubbed her “sexy professor suit.” She fixed the pins in her French twist in the car, making herself once again a portrait of professionalism, and slipped Rowan’s hand from her leg.

“Two hands on the wheel, Whitethorn.”

He pouted. “But I’m a safe driver and I want to hold your hand.”

“My hands are over here, love, not down by my skirt.”

When he pulled into his spot, Aelin closed her eyes and took a deep, slow breath.

“You good, Fireheart?”

Gods, she loved hearing him call her that. “Yeah. I just…needed a moment to settle myself. To tell myself the cameras aren’t here to tear apart what I say.”

Rowan wrapped his hands around hers. “Dr. Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, the bland reporters are here to stand in awe of your expertise. Not a single word you say will come across as anything but brilliant and beautifully said.”

She squeezed his hands, her usual confidence returning. “I love you, buzzard.”

“I love you too, Fireheart. Let’s go talk about our amazing achievement.”

The day sped by in a blur of reporters, interviewers, teleprompters, practiced speeches, lights, cameras, and crew. When the last bleached-blonde anchor of the last interview of the day cut her crew’s cameras, Aelin flopped against her second-in-linguistic-command, Dr. Nehemia Ytger, the expert on ethnic African languages.

“If I never see a news crew again, it’ll be too soon,” she sighed. “I’m beat.”

Nehemia snickered. “But we’re done talking about how proud we are that Maeve and her marvelous company have done such a grand service to the world.”

Aelin snorted softly. “Right. And now we servicepeople want to go home and take off our heels.”

“Amen to that.”

As the team filed out of the studio, Rowan made his way over to Aelin. “Holding up?”

“Not anymore,” she said, leaning casually into his side. “My heels are killing me, there’s a hairpin stabbing into my scalp, and I really, really need to pee.”

Rowan laughed, deep and husky. “Let’s get you home, then.”

“I’m stopping in the bathroom first.”

Just before she left the ladies’ room, Aelin heard voices in the break area. Familiar voices--Rowan’s, Maeve’s, and the snippy, borderline whiny tones of Remelle Frelau, who worked in the marketing department and had a hell of a boner for Rowan.

“--looking at revenue over--” Maeve’s voice cut out, but from the gasps of the other two, the revenue was through the roof.

“And it’s all thanks to this genius here,” drawled Remelle, who if Aelin had her guess was probably clinging onto Rowan like a platinum-blonde leech.

“Ms. Frelau, this was the product of a team. No single person could possibly have made it happen alone.”

“Oh, call me Remelle, or even better Remy. And you’re the team leader, so you practically did create it by yourself.”

Aelin snickered to herself. Vapid bitch had no idea what she was saying.

“That’s not how teams work, Ms. Frelau. We wouldn’t be here without Dr. Galathynius and Dr. Ytger’s language expertise, not to mention the creative genius of the engineers, graphic designers, linguists, and programmers.”

“Ms. Frelau, though her judgment is clearly biased, has a point, Mr. Whitethorn,” Mave said. “You demonstrated remarkable collaborative leadership qualities throughout this project, and I fully expect that you will continue to do so.” Maeve’s heels clicked away. Rowan’s voice followed her.

“Thank you, Ms. Ond, but I have to credit Dr. Galathynius--”

“Will you stop kissing that woman’s ass?” snorted Remelle. “Gods, she’s not worth your time or your praise; all she does is translate words into different languages and you idiots drool over that like it means anything.”

Aelin jerked like she’d been slapped. She knew Remelle was a self-centered, shallow, spiteful bitch, but she hadn’t known she would do this.

“--did more for this project than you and your useless whiteboard of catchphrases,” growled Rowan.

“I don’t care what she ‘did for the project,’ Rowan, she’s never going to be good enough for you.”

“Thank you for caring about my welfare, Frelau, now please kindly fuck off.”

Aelin chose that moment to saunter out of the bathroom and head straight for Rowan, her face showing no hint of having heard that conversation. She did note with satisfaction Remelle’s vain attempt to march out of the room with some semblance of dignity. Too bad her heel caught on the seam of the hallway carpet and the break room’s tile flooring and she had to grab the doorframe to keep from collapsing.

“You’re awfully quiet, Aelin.”

“Just thinking. Processing, really. It’s been a hell of a day.”

Rowan nodded. “I bet.”

“And hearing fucking Remelle rip into me for being useless…didn’t make it better.”

“Shit, you heard that?”

“Yeah. I heard that.” Her voice was hollow.

Rowan pulled into their driveway and shut off the engine. Reaching across the console, he cupped Aelin’s face in his hands. “Aelin. You are brilliant. You are terrifyingly smart. You are a force of nature. Nothing, nothing you will ever do is useless. Don’t let that jealous bitch make you think you are less than the perfect woman.”

She smiled tentatively at him. “She…she told me before that last interview that I could never be enough for you. Because you--because of Lyria.”

Rowan raked a hand through his hair. “Ae, can we talk about this inside?”

That night, he told her about his former fiancé, Lyria. He told her about their whirlwind romance, their youthful dreams. He told her about the horrific crash that stole away Lyria’s life. A drunk trucker, a narrow pass in the mountains. He showed her the box in which he kept all the memories of that life. He cried. Aelin cried. He curled against her, let her comfort him.

“Sometimes, I wish she was still here. She’d understand everything. She always did.”

Aelin had no response. She let Rowan fall asleep, his weight shifting off her and into his bed, and looked through the box. Everything she saw served as another reminder that this was the first woman he loved, the woman who understood everything.

She was worthy of him.

But was Aelin?

The more she looked at Rowan and Lyria’s happiness, the more the answer solidified.

No.

When Rowan woke up the next morning, Lyria’s box sat on Aelin’s side of the bed, a side that had not held Aelin.

He glanced out the window.

Her car was gone.

He got up and frantically paced through the house.

Everything she’d brought into his home was gone.

As was she.

Present day.

Rowan opened his front door mechanically, pulled off his shoes, dropped his work backpack on its shelf, and was halfway to his bedroom before he realized he’d just opened his front door. His front door that was always locked.

Someone was in his house.

Someone who either had a duplicate key or insanely good lockpicking skills.

Exactly one person owned a duplicate key to his house.

Aelin.

That’s impossible, she lives in Orynth, she can’t be here, he told the traitorous part of his brain that leapt with joy at seeing Aelin’s face again.

He turned around and made his way through the kitchen--nobody there--to the living room. He flicked on a lamp, casting a soft light around the room.

And nearly had a heart attack.

Aelin Galathynius sat on his couch.

For a moment, he just gawked at her. She looked so…different. Older. Gone was the infectious smile that had captured his heart. Dark shadows smeared under her eyes, testament both to the long hours she devoted to her work and to recent sleepless nights. She was twisting a ring on her right hand, a familiar sign of her nerves. From his angle, Rowan could see a hint of dark script on her wrist. A tattoo. The Aelin he knew didn’t have tattoos.

“I’m not a ghost.” Her voice, weary and hollow, broke the tense silence.

Rowan crossed the room, propped an arm on the fireplace. “Why?”

“Why am I here? Why did I leave? Why did I cut you out of my life?”

“Everything.” He couldn’t keep the waver from his voice, but his eyes burned into hers.

She took a steadying breath. “I’m here to apologize, first of all. I’m here to face what I ruined and to try and start mending it. I’m here to come to terms with everything I broke when I left three years ago.”

Whatever he’d expected her to say, it certainly wasn’t that.

“I’m sorry, Rowan. I’m sorry I left like that. I was…I was scared.”

“You can’t just run away from your fears, Aelin!” He couldn’t keep the frustration from his tone. “You can’t just abandon someone when you have a bad day!”

“I’m sorry! I know I shouldn’t have left! I know I can’t run from my fears; I’ve spent the last three years trying and fucking failing to do that! But I don’t know what else to do.”

“Saying something about it would have been a good first step.”

“I’m bad at emotions, Rowan. I tried. It wasn’t enough.”

“That’s not a good enough excuse.”

Aelin flicked a tear from her face. “I know.” Her shoulders slumped. “I’m so sorry, Rowan. I should never have left. I let some stupid comment root into my head and make me doubt myself. I made myself believe I would never be good enough for you. I left you. I loved you, and I still left you. I still love you, even though I’ve tried to suppress it. I can never make up for that. I…I just wanted to tell you how much I’ve regretted that horrible decision all these years. I want you to be happy, Rowan, I--”

“How am I supposed to be happy without a source?” He’d dropped onto the couch, close enough to touch her but still keeping his distance.

“What?”

“You didn’t just take yourself away, Aelin. You were my happiness. I’ve spent three fucking years trying to make myself believe I’m better without you in my life, and I can’t.”

She was unabashedly crying by that point. “What do you want me to do? How can I make up for abandoning you?”

“Stay.”

Her gaze locked onto his, both of their eyes pooling with tears.

“Stay with me, Fireheart.”

“But--”

“I never stopped loving you either.”

A choked sob ripped out of Aelin. Rowan couldn’t hold himself in check any longer; he reached out and tugged her gently into his arms. To his shock, she didn’t resist, burying her face into his chest as sobs shook her shoulders. When she calmed, he tilted her chin up.

“Will you stay, Aelin?”

“Yes. Even though I will never deserve your forgiveness, yes.”

Translations:

* = “that pinched old whore who couldn’t convince a dick to come within ten metres of her if she dressed up provocatively” (Italian)

** = loosely translated as “Fucking hell, I can’t get drunk off this garbage.” (in order, Russian (badly phonetically spelled out because Rowan POV), Spanish, German, Spanish again, French) (the Russian doesn’t directly translate, so it could mean several different variations of expletive)

Might there be a second part? Perhaps......

#my writing #rowaelin month #aaaaaangst

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flooffybits · 3 years

Text

If You Can Hear Me

Idol: Dreamcatcher

marshmallow: Helloo, can I please request a Dreamcatcher 8th member scenario where reader has a rough past and is going through a lot, and the members know it. But instead of worrying the others, she writes all of her emotions and stories into multiple songs without then knowing. But when she left her laptop, the curious members take a look inside and are amazed at how beautiful the songs are. Thank youu.

Warning: mentions of depression

☕buy me a coffee☕

Gahyeon quietly padded outside her and Handong’s shared room, only to sleepily enter yours and Yubin’s. Seeing the two of you still fast asleep, she silently made her way over to your bed, glad that you didn’t have the top bunk as she wordlessly joined you in bed.

The sudden movements caused you to groan before you looked down to see a mop of dark brown hair all over your chest. Adjusting your position and reaching to push the latter’s hair away, your bleary eyes soon make out the maknae’s features before letting out a breath.

“Gahyeon?”

But the younger girl only grumbled as she buried her face into your neck, giving you no proper reply before you heard her silent snoring. And due to your tired state, you simply adjusted the sheets around you before going back to sleep, this time with a clingy and tired baby in your arms.

The next time you wake up, Minji is giving your shoulder a little nudge with a bright smile adorning her features. "Good morning!" She greets and you blink a few times before yawning, stretching your arms in front of you before you realize that Gahyeon was nowhere to be found.

Instead, Yoohyeon had taken her place.

“I thought Gahyeon was here.” You mutter while rubbing your eyes, though your other arm draped loosely around the snoring puppy. Minji chuckled before she placed a kiss on the top of your head. “She got up a while ago. Yoohyeon, I’m not sure when she came here.” Your leader explains and you can only nod your head, because this wasn’t exactly anything new to you.

Lightly tapping her back, you make sure to wake Yoohyeon. But when she refuses to get up, you merely move her so that she’s laying in your bed instead and Minji watches with amusement swimming in her eyes before stepping back and heading for the door. “You have a schedule after lunch. Don’t forget.”

You lay there for a few more moments, waking yourself up, before finally moving to stand, stretching your arms over your head and letting out a sigh. When you look back at Yoohyeon, you let out a small sigh before reaching to pull the covers over her so she was more comfortable, fixing one of your pillows so she would cuddle that instead.

Peeking at the top bunk, you smile when you see Yubin fast asleep, knowing she had stayed up much later than you. You reach to gently pat her head before heading to the bathroom so you could freshen up for the day.

When you reach the living room, you’re not too surprised to see Siyeon, Gahyeon, and Minji already up and about. And it doesn’t take long before Bora comes to join you, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she greeted you with a good morning.

“What time are you heading out, unnie?” Gahyeon asked while munching on her pancake and you check your phone for the time. “Well, hopefully after eating. But considering the traffic, I just might have lunch after my schedule.” You explain, making Siyeon pout as she shook her head. “You have to eat properly. We don’t want you getting sick.” She scolds lightly.

“Siyeon is right. You haven’t been eating much, lately, and we’re close to having another comeback.” The leader stated softly and you purse your lips slightly. “I’ll prepare something for you, so promise me that you’re going to eat at least on the way to the location.” Bora seemed to have sensed your hesitance, and seeing the look on your face, she decided it was best not to point it out, and instead decided to compromise.

Your shoulders visibly relaxed and you eventually nodded your head. “Okay.”

The four exchanged looks before letting the tension eventually pass and Bora was soon working on getting your lunch ready. And when Yubin woke up, she had silently joined and helped the older woman in preparing your food when she found out what the other was doing whilst Handong joined you in picking out your outfit.

“I’m worried about her.” Minji breaks the silence a few minutes after you had bid them goodbye and exited the dorm. “Why?” Yoohyeon asked when she began to fill her plate with her own food.

“Unnie has been withdrawing from us a lot more.” Gahyeon says with a frown, voicing out what was on the majority of their minds.It was no secret to them how you were struggling with certain things. While you often portrayed yourself as a calm and collected person in front of the audience, the girls knew more than that facade and how your demons were much louder than the screaming of the crowd during your performances.

You just had a great way of keeping them under wraps.

“Has she shown any signs of it getting worse?” Handong asked your roommate and the younger woman shook her head. “Unnie’s just been quieter than usual. She’s been writing a lot, too.” Yubin answers when she recalls how your conversation at night gradually decreased and you had resorted to writing in your notebook or laptop.

“Has she mentioned anything?” Minji asks carefully, only to receive another shake of the head, and that was worrisome enough on its own. Without having much of an idea what was bothering you, none of them knew how to help or what to do.

“I wish she didn’t feel like she can’t come to us.” Siyeon quietly mumbles while leaning against Bora’s side and the older girl nodded her head. “I just hope we can help her; make her feel less of a burden.” The dancer mumbled softly while she gently patted Siyeon’s hair.

Not wanting to worry further, the girls decided that it was best to end the discussion there, though they do promise to do the best they can to make sure to help you in any way possible.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine on your own?” Yubin asks when she watches you getting ready to leave, somewhat in a hurry. “I’ll be fine, Dami. I promise I’ll be home with all of your favorite snacks and drinks.” You reply, checking your wallet and then shoving it inside your pocket before putting your coat on.

“Stay safe!” Bora calls out to you when you open the door, struggling to put your shoe on and making Gahyeon laugh at your slightly clumsy display. “You have a curfew!” Siyeon adds and you look at her over your shoulder, causing Yoohyeon to crack up this time, before shaking your head.

“See you, love you!” You tell them right before shutting the door and the girls are once again left without you.

Yubin sat by the stairs that led to her bunk and she swung her legs a bit while observing your shared room. It was neat like always, remembering how you wanted to keep the room tidy for the two of you, knowing how Yubin wasn’t exactly too comfortable with a messy room.

Though when Yoohyeon comes inside to check on her, she’s not too surprised when the girl knocks over the pile of clothes you’d left on your computer chair, probably planning on cleaning that up when you return.

“It wasn’t me!” The taller woman immediately shouted before scrambling to pick your clothes off the floor and Yubin sighs before hopping off her bed and then helping her best friend clean up the mess she created.

“What did you do this time?” Handong asked while peeking inside the room and Yoohyeon pouts when she folds the shirt in her hands. “I swear, it was an accident.” The Chinese woman playfully rolled her eyes. “It’s always an accident with you.”

While the pair was busy arguing, Yubin silently placed your clothes back on the chair, only for her to notice how you had left your laptop on when she saw the light near the power button still on. It made her smile a bit with how your urgency had caused you to forget some things, so she moved to turn it off.

But as the screen came to life, she was surprised to see your notes open with various words and phrases written in them. Yubin knew that you often wrote, but she didn’t think you had turned your thoughts into songs, seeing as you’ve never shared anything about song writing.

She knew that it was wrong to snoop through your things, especially ones as personal as these, but each line written captured the emotions she didn’t think she’d find from you made her read more and more of what there was on display, and her silence was soon noticed by the other two.“Dami, what’s that?”

Yoohyeon’s brows pinched together before she and Handong locked eyes for a brief moment, and then moved to stand behind the younger woman, checking to see what had her so distracted.

“This is…” Handong’s eyes widened a bit when she realized what it was she was reading, but much like the other two, she found it difficult to tear her eyes away, too.

The three of them spend longer inside your room and the rest of your members start to wonder just what it was they were doing. So when they go to check, they’re all surprised to see the three still huddled in front of your laptop.

“What are you doing with unnie’s laptop?” Gahyeon questions as Siyeon purses her lips. “What’s wrong?” They spot the tears Yoohyeon was desperately trying to wipe away when she read more of your songs, but it was all in vain.

“I didn’t know it was this bad…” Yubin quietly muttered to herself, but it was loud enough for everyone else to hear. “What’s bad?” Bora asks curiously when she lightly patted Yoohyeon’s head in comfort for whatever it was that had her looking so upset.

But Minji speaks before anyone else answers. “You shouldn’t be looking through Y/n’s stuff like that.” She says sternly, but even with that, she admits that she’s just as curious as the rest of her members. “I know but… you have to see this.”

The four newcomers exchange looks and, eventually, they take a quick peek at the currently opened file, but Minji was far more reluctant due to the invasion of your privacy, but seeing the way her members’ expression shifted, her curiosity eventually got the best of her and she walked over, noticing as Siyeon wiped a tear away from her cheek before she took a seat.

Minji wasn’t sure what to expect when she viewed the screen, but as she let out a slow exhale, she let her eyes scan through the contents of your most recent work and it was then she understood what had caused two, now three, of the members to tear up. She felt herself choke up with the message left in your words.

Do I have to keep pretending?

Or is an echo all I’ll ever be?

Tell me could you really love me

When I’m nothing but a shell of someone I can’t be

When she sees the next one, it’s only then that she notices that there are dates on when you started each song and notes on when you had updated them. The next one was a newer work compared to the one she read earlier.

Now it’s not too late

I only have you, save me now

Tell me if you can hear me

Please come and let this nightmare end

She couldn’t finish the whole song, tears blurring her vision before she carefully shut your laptop and pushed it aside, making sure that it would be in a safe place on your desk, before she got up and faced everyone.

“We’ll talk later.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but given what they just found out - what you felt, they all understood and each departed for their own rooms to think and reflect on what they could do before you arrived home.

Trudging up the stairs to your dorm, you let out a heavy sigh, hoisting the bags you had that contained the girls’ food and drinks like you promised before leaving. You were exhausted after meeting with your parents, both physically and mentally, but you were just glad to be back home with your members.

Balancing the bags with one arm, you unlock the door and head inside, kicking your shoes off before you ventured further inside, only to frown at the silence that enveloped your usually loud and bright home.

“Guys?” You call out, confused by the lack of people, but the only person you notice is Minji, who was sitting in the living room with a contemplative look on her face and you slowly put the bags down.

“Unnie, where are the others?” You ask her, noting her silence and the unusual blank look on her face. It worries you, so you look around, only to see everyone’s doors are closed.

The unease builds in your chest, but you push forward as you take a hesitant seat across the older girl. “Is everything okay?” You ask carefully, and she finally lifts her head, surprising you when you see her slightly reddened eyes.

“Y/n, I want you to be very honest with me.” Her voice is like a plea, and her words make you antsy but you nod either way. “Of course, unnie.”

Whatever it was that was upsetting her involved you, you assume. And judging by the lack of your usually loud members, you think that they’re aware of what the problem is.

“Are you happy?”

The question catches you off guard and your eyes snap to your leader’s face, wondering if this was some sort of trick question, only to see nothing but desperation and sadness etched on to her features.

But still, the question makes you go quiet and your hands rest on your lap.

“I...” She licks her lips, almost as though bracing herself before Bora opens the door to her and Yoohyeon’s room. “Jiu wanted to say, we saw some of the things you wrote.” She explains despite the look her friend gives her and Yoohyeon quietly shuffles out of their shared room.

“We understand that you’ll be upset, but we have been trying to understand what was going on with you.” Minji sighs, seeing no more reasons for hiding. “We know that you're dealing with so much, but recently we’ve been feeling a little out of loop, and we had no idea how to help.” Yoohyeon elaborates with a nervous look in her eyes, still feeling guilty for having gone through your personal documents.

The next door to open is Siyeon’s and then Handong and Gahyeon’s. Yubin doesn’t wait either because she’s soon out of your room and joining you on the couch.“We’re asking this time… are you happy?”

You look to each of your members faces, feeling a little overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events that you feel a lump forming in your throat.

It was true that you had been suffering from depression, but you chose to keep that confidential and refused to let it be known to the public, but the girls knew.

They saw you every day and they could see it whenever the thoughts and whispers got a little too louder for you to handle. And while you would confide in them the first few months, everything felt much heavier for you that you felt like you were holding the team back.

“I… I don’t-”

“We won’t be upset, Y/n. Whether it’s a yes or no, we understand. We just want to help you.” Handong says softly when Yubin carefully reaches for your hand and slowly laces her fingers with yours.

You pause, your gaze falling to the floor as you gathered your thoughts before the weight of the past month finally settled on your shoulders. You’ve been busying yourself ever since your parents decided to come and visit you that you didn’t have the time to properly assess the situation.

You so desperately tried to throw it out of your mind, but now as your members finally sat you down and asked you how you felt, you could actually feel the weight crumbling down on you that it was nearly suffocating.

Arms are quick to envelope you from behind and the scent of Siyeon’s shampoo greets your nose. She doesn’t say anything, but it’s clear what her intentions were.

“I want to be…” You mumble quietly, squeezing Yubin’s hand when Siyeon rests her cheek on the top of your head. “There’s a lot that I want to just… shut out, and I can’t seem to do it and everything just piles up that I don’t know what to do or where to go.”

The crack in your voice resembles the ones in their hearts at the sound of it.

“You’ll always have us, unnie.” Gahyeon quietly tells you as she rounds the couch and sits on the opposite side of Yubin. “Gahyeon is right. You have seven people waiting for you and ready to catch you whenever.” Bora tells you with a kind smile, reaching to wipe your tears and cupping your cheeks.

“If you decide that you need a break and just breathe, we’ll be here to help you. You can lean on us if you feel like it’s too much for you. And if you decide that a… h-hiatus is what’s necessary, then we can respect that, too.” Even saying the word had left a sinking feeling in Minji’s stomach, but it was your well-being she wanted to prioritize before anything else.

You look at your leader and chew on your lower lip as your members could all see the conflict on your face.

While they didn’t like the idea of a hiatus, they understood that it may be what you needed the most right now. But that decision was mainly up to you and they could only support you whether you wanted to push through with it or not.

However, you don’t think that you were willing to give up after how far you’ve come. After everything you’ve been through, you doubt that you could actually pull through without your members by your side.

They’ve helped you become the person that you are now - cheered you up and encouraged you when things seemed hopeless and you were left with nothing but the harsh criticism of your family along with the nasty comments left by people online.“I don’t want to go on a hiatus.” You shake your head. “Things are hard, I know, but I don’t want to just throw in the towel after all that we’ve been through, especially when we’re scheduled to start for the next comeback.” You tell them when Gahyeon places her hands on your other arm.

Yoohyeon purses her lips together, tears already in her eyes before she’s blinking them away the best she can. “You don’t have to push yourself because of that, everyone will understand!” She exclaims and you shake your head once more.

“I’m not doing it for them.”

They pause at your words and Yubin feels as you hold her hand tighter in your grip. “I don’t want to keep doing this just because of them. I want to do this because it’s me, because I want to prove to myself that I can keep going and that I can make it.” You explain with a determined look in your eyes, that despite the dullness in them due to your exhaustion, there was still a little bit of spark that just needed more room for it to reach its full potential.

“Are you sure?”

You pause for a brief moment, but when you look back up, you offer them a smile. “Do you think I can show them some of what I wrote?”

That was enough of an answer that had all of them smiling, pride swelling in their chests as you all soon prepared for the upcoming comeback.

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gunterfan1992 · 3 years

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Interview with Half Shy (the songwriter of “Monster”)

For the last few months, I’ve been collecting information for a second edition of Exploring the Land of Ooo that will also cover the production of Distant Lands. This means that I’ve started to look into the new songs that we have been graced with this year, and this of course includes “Monster,” the beautiful track from the masterpiece that is “Obsidian”. And so I reached out to the song’s writer, Half Shy, who was kind enough to chat with me via email about the songwriting process!

(Photo courtesy of Half Shy)

In many ways, Half Shy is living the creative Adventure Time fan’s dream: She got asked by Adam Muto himself to write a song for “Obsidian” after he heard her music through Bandcamp! (I’ve dabbled in fan music before, and the fact that someone from the show might listen to it just blows my mind.) What an opportunity; I am so excited for her!

Since a second edition of my book won’t be coming out until after all the Distant Lands episodes air, I thought it would be best to share my Half Shy interview now. Read on for the fascinating behind the scenes story of how Half Shy and “Monster” came to be..

GunterFan: What is your origin story? How did you get involved in music, and how did the Half Shy project come to be?

Half Shy: I’ve been making music pretty quietly since I was in high school with a keyboard and guitar. I played one or two shows a year after college when I could find a friend or my brother to get up on stage with me, but I don’t really have that performer gene in me naturally. I get too much in my head and forget what the lyrics are to the song I wrote, or what the next chord is. Total brain freeze. So that whole experience is a bit of a mental drain. It’s something I think I’d like to dig into and figure out, but right now I’m really enjoying the time writing.

Even playing a song for my friends I still get pretty nervous. That’s where the name Half Shy comes from. I’ve always been interested in making things that by their nature draw a bit of a spotlight, but at the same time, I am just really quite nervous about the attention.

I recorded my first songs under my old name Hey V Kay in my bedroom and started putting them up online one at a time. When I got enough I thought about packaging it up into an album, but then got really distracted by learning how to fix up motorcycles and going to automotive tech school. When I eventually got back around to it I named the album Gut Wrenching.

After a few years I realized that I didn’t want the day-in-day-out life of a mechanic, I just wanted to know how to fix cars for myself and to have that knowledge in my back pocket. I got back into making music but grew frustrated at the process of writing and recording songs. I felt like I wasn’t able to capture the ideas I had in my head. Like trying to draw on your computer with a mouse. Doable, but it’s not going to come out like you’d hoped.

So these last couple of years I’ve focused more on learning the technical aspect of it, from the initial ideas and lyrics, to the recording and mixing. During that process I put out Bedroom Visionaries, and while writing I happened upon the name Half Shy in an old Thesaurus which felt instantly right. Learning all of that has been fun, I even went as far as to create my own book to solidify a daily writing routine (lyricworkbook.com). All that has been a bit of a tangent from actually making much music though. I should be getting my books in December from the press so I’m really looking forward to getting back into making more music instead of dealing with printing presses, setting up websites, and sourcing ribbon suppliers.

GF: What is the story behind "Monster"? How did the show get in contact with you?

HS: I keep a log of “Song Starters” with neat things I’ve heard in the world, and I would look through it every now and then and notice just how many came from Adventure Time. Eventually I thought well, I have to make a song about this show that just keeps breaking my heart. It was around the time I was nearly done with the first [Adventure Time-inspired] song “In My Element” that I got an email from Bandcamp saying “someone bought your album (Bedroom Visionaries).”

I get maybe one or two of these a month at most so I love to go in and say hi to the person and say thanks, be curious about who they are, [and] what they’re all about. Turns out it was Adam Muto, the executive producer of the show. (I asked and he has no idea how he happened upon my stuff. He guessed that I must have tagged something #adventuretime and he just happened to see it.) So I sent him an email saying, “Hey wow thanks for checking out my tunes. Also... holy crap you’ve made the best show I have ever seen in my life.” [I] played it real cool like. After finishing up writing my second [Adventure Time-inspired] song “Betty” I couldn’t help but fangirl real hard [and I sent him another message saying], “I’m sorry this is probably awkward, but I really love your show and I wrote these songs about it.” He was incredibly kind and shared them with his Twitter Universe, and a while after that I got a random email from him saying basically, “Hey, I’m working on this thing I can’t talk about, would you be interested?” I was like… well you know I’m pretty busy working at a sign shop so I’m gonna have to pass on this once in a lifetime opportunity (J/K. Obviously I fan-girl squealed and said yes immediately).

We chatted a bit about what the project was going to be and the direction. He mentioned there [would be] two Marceline songs in the special, [and he asked if I] would I be interested in giving the love song a try? Trying real hard to suppress my instant imposter syndrome I was like, “Yea, totally I’d be into giving that a shot!” So I read through the story and loved the idea of the dragon mirrored in Marceline, thinking through how they’ve both built up a protective shell, how she grew tough for a reason, but now she can open up and be vulnerable with PB.

From there I wrote the initial demo with the first two verses mostly intact and we went back and forth a few times editing it down into the final version. I recorded the final parts for the show in my little home studio in Seattle.

GS: When you were writing the song, what emotions, thoughts, or ideas were you channeling? Was there any sort of memory of event that you were trying to artistically "catch" or "recreate" with the lyrics or music?

HS: As far as channeling an emotion, generally I’d say just the experience of existing as a human. It can be so hard to open up and be vulnerable. I can remember that feeling even as a young kid—getting really excited about something and having someone completely trash it or look at you like, “Why are you so interested in that? It’s dumb.” [It causes us to grow] a little more weary to share ourselves because we know that hurt and embarrassment. The pain of being misunderstood is something I think a lot of us can relate to. Then having to decide whether to keep sharing those vulnerable parts of yourself or think, “They’re just not going to get it, I’m going to get hurt, so why bother?” and then stop putting yourself out there. You lose a lot with that thick armor though. You might feel protected, but you’re not feeling a whole lot of anything else other than the weight and chafing of it (I had a whole lot of armor-related metaphors that I didn't end up using.).

I struggle with this in songwriting too. I’m not the bolt-of-lightning type. There are pages and pages of cliches, total garbage, bad jokes, and cheesy lines that I have to get through in order to get to something that I am excited to put out there into the world: “Here I did this thing, I know it’s a little (this or that), but I made it... What do you think?” It’s hard to open yourself up to hearing the other end of that question.

I filled about 5 little pocket notebooks just thinking through the story, ideas, and trying to get this song right. I wanted it to feel familiar and honor the past songs of the show ([e.g.,] using the ukulele and referencing a few of the familiar chords from “I’m Just Your Problem”) but also be pretty open and vulnerable and different for [Marceline]. [I wanted to] show that she’s going through some tough emotions but also figuring herself out and growing.

GF: I feel like “Monster” is, at its core, an ode to the “Bubbline” ship. How do you feel about your song being intimately connected to one of the most famous LGBTQ+ relationships in animation? Do you have any general thoughts on Marcy and PB, Bubbline, etc.?

HS: Oh, I’m a total fan girl of Bubbline. The whole story of how Rebecca Sugar and Muto slowly morphed it into this deeper relationship is just great. As a part of the LGBTQ community myself it really means so much to see the representation of characters like yourself portrayed in an intelligent way. Growing up I was too young to fully understand what was going on but I saw Ellen getting cancelled, and [I] heard people around me saying they’d never watch her show again after she came out. That stuff sinks in as a kid and so to have these characters who are not only intelligent, but funny, complex, and unapologetically strong who also happen to be queer is really great. I love that the story here isn’t about their orientation, but that they’re people struggling with how to be open and vulnerable in a relationship.

It feels like something sci-fi and animated shows do so well—to show that ridiculousness of limiting who a person should and shouldn’t love. Marceline is a 1000+ year old half-demon/vampire and PB was born from the Mothergum of an apocalyptic radioactive world, but you’re going to get hung up on them loving each other? It sort of brings it into perspective in a really interesting way.

GF: Do you have any other thoughts about the experience that you'd like to share?

HS: Just how lucky, thankful, and honored I feel to be a part of my favorite show, writing a song for one of my favorite characters. It’s also incredibly cool how the people on the show are so willing to connect and collaborate with their fandom. Everyone [on the production crew] was very open and a real joy to work with.

I’d like to give a huge “Thank you!” to Half Shy for agreeing to participate in this interview; she really was quite amiable! If you’d like to hear more of her music, check out her website and her Bandcamp. You can also follow her on Instragram here and on Twitter here. And of course, here is Half Shy’s awesome video of “Monster”.

#adventure time #atimers #adventure time distant lands #atdl #half shy #monster #bubbline #marceline #marceline the vampire queen #bubblegum #princess bubblegum #pb #adam muto #interview

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itsmeevie01 · 3 years

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A Moment in Time- Ch 13

MASTERPOST

has it been...a week? wow.

BUT I have planned a bit of the next few chapters. YAY!

I'm also failing bio but whatever. it's fine. everything is fine. (it's really not but I won't acknowledge it.)

anyways, no warnings for this ch, just Mari and Tim time!

Tim’s hotel room was nice. He really couldn’t complain, but there was something that made the back of his neck prickle. It hadn’t been only at the hotel either, but it was where he had felt it most acutely. There was someone at the hotel watching him.

When he had arrived in Paris the night before, Tim had been shocked at the tense atmosphere. The last time he had visited six months earlier, there hadn’t been this feeling of everyone holding their breath. Now, Tim was tense simply because everyone around him was. He wasn’t sure if it was the feeling of being watched or if it was the way everyone was holding their breath, but Tim’s nerves were frying very quickly.

He was supposed to meet Marinette for coffee in the next hour, and Tim was more than ready to see a face that he wasn’t paying to like him. As he slumped into a chair, the teen debated texting Marinette to ask for somewhere slightly more private to stave off his paranoia. As the clock ticked down, Tim gritted his teeth, caught up in his head. A ding from his phone brought him back to the present. With a glance down Tim jolted.

Tim+Marinette

Marinette- Hey! Just a reminder that we are meeting at that café I gave you the address to. I’ll be there in about 15 minutes, so I’ll see you soon!

Tim- Thanks, Marinette! I’m looking forward to seeing you!

Marinette- Me too 😊

Tim studied his phone before he yelped. It was a five-minute walk to the café, and he still hadn’t changed from his suit from earlier. The teen groaned and shook his head at his forgetfulness.

Marinette was surprisingly nervous when she sat down at the café she had told Tim about. Her hand was shaking, and she had no idea why. In front of her was a plate with a muffin and a coffee cup that had been made the way the staff knew she liked. The truth was this is where she camped out when her room was closing in on her. That meant that the people who worked there knew Marinette well enough to respect her privacy, while also holding a conversation when she had the time.

With a shaking hand, Marinette set her sketchbook on the tables and opened it to the last sketch she had been working on. As she cleaned up the lines and made notes about what specifications she wanted Marinette started to fall into the mental spiral that could trap her for days.

Had she picked the right clothes?

Why was she worried about what she wore?

Would Plagg behave? He was known for causing trouble for her.

Would Tim be nice in person, or would he be like most of the corporate douches that she worked with at Agreste?

Would Hawkmoth attack while they were together?

What if the media caught sight of them? Oh, she should have picked a more private place to meet!

A sharp prick on her thigh had Marinette yipping quietly, but the look Plagg gave her told the teen that he knew what was going through her head.

The Kwamii snuck up to her shoulder and his in her hair. “careful, Red. There are people here but not too many, this kid seems like he has a good head on his shoulders. We can trust him on that. You won’t get a better read on him until you spend time with him in person, so don’t start the spiral just yet. Plus, you know that some of the stress from this week is getting to you. Training three Miracle holders is stressful in the best of times. You are doing it in combat times without the full team the guardians used to use.” the duo could feel the tension leave Marinette’s shoulders at the small god’s words.

The teen whispered “thanks Plagg” as she focused back on the design in front of her.

Tim walked into the café and glanced around as he ordered.

There were only a few patrons there. in one corner was a red-headed boy who was obviously absorbed in his schoolwork. Near the middle was a girl who was typing on her computer with the manic speed of someone who had a paper due in the next day. In the far corner was a dark-haired girl who was working in some kind of notebook. And a few tables away from the register was a duo. A blonde girl whose hair was held in the kind of ponytail that made Tim cringe in sympathy, and a boy with dark hair that looked completely uncomfortable. Hopefully, Tim wasn’t witnessing a date gone wrong.

as he accepted his food, the teen headed for the girl in the back corner. He knew that Marinette had dark hair and that if she was anything like Jason, she would choose the place that would give her the best view of the space. Tim cleared his throat as he approached, breaking her out of focus on what Tim now realized was a sketchbook. “Marinette?”

“Tim! Hi! Come sit with me.” The girl’s enthusiasm made Tim smile, and he easily settled into the chair across from her.

The first few moments were awkward, but soon, Tim and Marinette were laughing and talking together happily. At one point, Tim got Marinette to really laugh. As she was pulling herself together, Tim tilted his head back. A smile danced over his features while he stretched his neck. as he leaned back, Tim noticed the blond girl narrowing her eyes at him, before glaring when she realized that she had been caught. She flipped her hair and whirled back around to face the boy that was laughing at her. Marinette snorted at the flush on the girl's face and rolled her eyes.

“that’s my friend, Chloé, she doesn’t think that I know that she is here with our friend. She’s just a big snoop.” Tim huffed a laugh and shrugged.

“Well, as long as it's just your friend spying on us, we should be fine. Are you interested in perhaps taking a walk?” Marinette giggled before standing. Tim joined her and offered her his hand. She sent him a smile and wiggled her fingers at him, before collecting her stuff and skipping off.

As she turned to smile at him, Tim called out a “hey! Wait up!” before hurrying after her.

After he had caught up with her, Marinette shot Tim a smile and led him off down the streets. He laughed and followed. The ease the girl used to navigate the streets had Tim marveling. The sound of her giggles had him smiling as he followed. Soon, they arrived at a small townhouse on the outskirts of the city. She glanced over her shoulder and inclined her head. Once they were both in the foyer, she guided him through to the sitting room.

“sorry about the…adventure. I know that you had more questions, and there were a few people in the café that I don’t trust.” Tim blinked, before nodding.

“I…ok? How did you know that I had questions? And as much as I liked exploring the city, where are we?” Marinette blushed slightly.

“we-ah. Well, we are at my Nona’s house. She lets me use it when she isn’t here to get some space. And…well…I know that your emails were full of questions, and I realized that anyone who wasn’t Parisian would have questions. And. Well. I saw a girl I don’t get along with in there and I wanted an excuse to get away from her?” Tim studied her for a moment, before bursting out laughing.

“Marinette, that would have been a perfectly fine reason, even without any reasonable justification. But” here, Tim worked to reign in his laughter, “the trip through the labyrinth of Paris, and the who thing…thank you.” A look of confusion crossed the girl’s face. “ever since I’ve landed, I’ve had the feeling that there was something watching me. Not only that, but everyone I’ve met has been holding their breath. I know that there is something going on, but I haven’t asked because I’m afraid of setting someone off. Do you know what’s going on in Paris? And why…why do I feel better here in your Nona’s home than in my hotel or the café?”

Marinette tensed as Tim talked. When he finished, she hesitated before voicing her concern. “Tim…did you say that you don’t feel like you’re being watched anymore?”

“yes?”

“oh my god. Tim! That’s…oh no. No. no. no! Tim…that means that Hawkmoth had decided that you would make a good Akuma. This house is out of the city proper, so he can’t get us here. Oh, this is so bad!”

“Marinette, hey. Stop. Look at me.” The girl, who had started to pace, paused. She glanced over at the older teen, her blue eyes wide in panic. Tim reached out and took her hands in his and gripped them tightly. Once her eyes were focused on him, and not the wall behind him, Tim spoke quietly. “Marinette are you with me?” she nodded. “is the reason that you reacted like that because of panic?” another nod. “talk me through why.” Her eyes went wide, and she looked at him in shock before taking a shaking breath and turning away.

“you could have been akumatized. You could have been akumatized and would have been with me and I would be to blame. Then you would-or still can- turn Jason and Nona against me. Then I could be exiled from Paris, or-“ Tim had squeezed her hands that he still somehow held during her spiral. Marinette spun around to face the older boy in shock.

“Marinette, how would me being akumatized become your fault? If we are going to lay blame on anyone, it would be Hawkmoth. He is the one who is going around possessing people with evil purple butterflies.” She studied him, shocked, before breathing out a sigh of relief.

“I am so sorry, Tim. I shouldn’t have freaked out like that. That was so rude.” Tim shook his head in response as she collapsed onto one of the couches.

“you have nothing to apologize for. I have a feeling that after the time you spent in Gotham, living under a supervillain for four years has been stressful. Maybe during your time in Gotham, if you don’t have the sight of my face by then,” here the younger girl giggled, relief evident in her face at the proposal for other plans, “maybe I can take you around Gotham and give you the time to explore without a psychopath with mind-reading abilities hanging over your head.”

A small smile danced over Marinette’s lips. “I would love that Tim, thank you.”

Later that evening, Marinette sighed in frustration.

Her homework was just one more thing she had to worry about. Beyond that, she really wanted to spend time with Tim. With Hawkmoth watching him, she wasn’t sure how long her friend would last in the city of love.

Another sigh broke its way free from Marinette’s throat, and the girl pushed aside the pile of schoolwork in favor of looking over her sketchbook. There, on the open page, was Tim’s face staring back up at her. She wasn’t sure what prompted her to draw him, but in this case, she was chalking up to her hand having a mind of its own. Looking down at the picture, she felt anger overtake her. Marinette had already given up so much, and yet here she was.

If this ridiculousness from Hawkmoth didn’t stop, the teen knew she would have to sacrifice her friendship with Tim as well, If only to protect him. the seed of anger seemed to burn brighter, and the girl clenched her jaw, trying to remind herself that no, this was not worth an Akumatization.

She looked up, trying to drain her eyes of the tears that had gathered without her permission, and caught sight of a purple butterfly. With trembling hands, the teen pulled out a glass jar that she had been experimenting with. One muttered spell later, the Akuma was sitting inside of the jar, and the glass had clouded over. With an angry shake of the Jar, the girl pulled out her phone and sent one text. They were ending this, tonight.

As Marinette prepared to meet her team, an assuredness settled over her. She knew that they had the ability to take down Adrien’s father. Apate just had to give the signal. And Marinette Dupain Cheng would be damned if she let an emotional terrorist ruin one more day of her life.

It was time to take Gabriel Agreste down.

sooooooo........... who liked Alya, Chloé, and Adrien date crashing. one was unintentional, but the other two totally knew something was happening bc Mari did tell ANYBODY about Tim or meeting him.

side note, yes, I consider this the first date. they don't...yet.

ahhhhhhhhh Hawkmoth is going down. Angry Mari because her friend is being threatened? you bet! no, Chloé is NOT going to be happy.

if anyone has a good suggestion for a Gotham villain who is not the Joker or Riddler PLEASE let me know. I am PLOTTING. yes, my next stop is Google. no, no one is going to be happy.

TAGLIST

@moonlitceleste @redscarlet95 @ultimatetornshipper @mochegato @liquid-luck-00 @maskedpainter @trippingovermyfeet @nathleigh @m0chick0furan @susiej1118 @t1dwarrior-of-earth @sassakitty @remy-289 @solangelo252 @corporeal-terrestrial @woe-is-me0 @toodaloo-kangaroo @sizzling-fairy-oil

#a moment in time fic #maribat #ml x dc #timari #sibling!jasonette #my writing #ahhhhhhhhhhh #its coming together #arch 1 is almost doen #and arch 2 is halfway there

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taelme · 4 years

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Enemies-to-lovers!Jisung

request: - anon: Could you maybe write an enemies to lovers like the Chan one but with jisung?? It was so good 😔😔😭🥺💞💞💖💘💘💞💗💞💗💕💞 can it be fluffy and Angsty hehe 😖 maybe where they're both college students - anon: Can you do a Enemies to Lovers AU with chan!!! Where they're going to college and their families happen to be friends so they get an apartment together to save money, but the first time they meet it doesn't go well. Then yk, slowly w time they fall in love ahhaha... I love your writings btw!! 💓💞💓💝💓💞💓💝 (I recently sent the ask about the enemies to lovers au w chan that involved going to college.. since you literally just wrote an enemies to lovers au for chan if you want you can do my request (if u do it ahahha) with jisung!!) - anon: I really love how you write au’s/fanfictions. I just want to know if u can write something about han jisung?? maybe a cafe love story or another tattoo artist just like chan? or maybe a studio date night?

genre: enemies-to-lovers!au, college!au, roommate!au, tattoo apprentice!jisung lol (fluff, a bit of angst)

pairing/s: Han Jisung / Reader ( ft skz Bang Chan and nct/wayv/superm (lmao) Lucas )

word count: 18k

tw: I talk about like kind of sad stuff when jisung has like an artist’s block in this I guess

a/n: thank u anons for being so patient with this request!! I rly hope that I managed to do it well and that you guys are satisfied with the outcome n have fun reading it hehe, it was kind of inspired by the song sunshine!! by stray kids so I hope that it gives u the same good vibes I got from the song while writing this :( ok bye

If it were any other person standing in front of you, maybe you wouldn’t have regretted having an outburst in the café for the morning crowd to see.

The fight, or outburst (if you wanted to relieve him of any role in the exchange), had started rather simply. You were just having one of those days where it was raining outside, you were awake even before roosters were (in your opinion) and you had wanted nothing more than to just curl up in bed and sleep into the evening.

You had gone to grab your morning coffee, combating against the rain with your multi-coloured umbrella, as one does. Shoving the doors of the café open, you were met with shouts of names and storms of people squeezing to collect their orders. The whole ordeal would’ve made you pretty at ease if it weren’t for the coldness of your feet and the way your umbrella would cause someone to slip soon if you didn’t move.

Your shoes squelched against the shiny wood floors of the café, each step making you cringe as you waited anxiously to reach the front of the line, desperate to put an end to this experience. Thankfully enough, your order was pretty straightforward, so you’d collected it quickly, the small smiley face drawn on the cup by the staff serving to put you in a slightly less dreadful mood.

Stationing yourself at one of the empty tables you’d spotted by the exit, you set your still-dripping umbrella on the floor before you tried to get your tissues out to salvage whatever you could of your shoes. Shrugging off your coat, you’d draped it over the back of the seat.

Glancing at the time on your phone before you shoved your notes aside within your bag, you’d pushed your arm forward and opened your bag harshly, taking your box file out of your bag, almost nicking yourself against the broken corner of the file in your rush.

The next sequence of events happened quickly, and too ‘all-at-once’ for you to process. Upon taking out your box file, you’d heard a yelp behind you, followed by harsh footsteps and the splash of coffee on your box file.

Letting out a loud yelp of surprise as the person in question had stopped their fall with a loud thud of their hands against the pillar in front of you, they’d turned to you with wide-eyes, their eyebrows quickly furrowing into an expression that looked utterly ticked-off, their mouth already opening to speak.

You’d seemed to beat them to it, hurriedly grabbing your tissues to wipe down your file, checking for any brown-stains on your precious papers.

“What the hell,” you scoffed, casting a glance up at the boy. He had stood slightly taller than you, with rounded eyes and a defined nose, his lips pressed into a firm line.

He looked fairly young, from the way he dressed in brand-name basics to the way he was practically decked out in accessories. Call you biased, but if this was a senior or a child, you’d probably have let them off with it. But the way he was looking at you now was somehow successfully unnerving you, and you supposed admiring his annoyed features was about the last thing you should be doing at the moment.

“‘What the hell’?” He echoed your words, “who’s the one that chose to stand in the middle of nowhere to go through their damned bag?”

Your eyebrows raised in offence, your annoyance from before making itself known as you frowned, your grip on your bag tightening, “oh, and it’s my fault you have poor coordination?”

The boy had narrowed his eyes, mirroring your expression, his bracelets shifting on his wrist as he gestured at your umbrella on the floor.

“Your stupid umbrella was the reason I tripped in the first place,” he told you pointedly, strangely making you even more annoyed that he chose to attack not only you but your innocent umbrella too.

Your volume raised involuntarily with your frustration, “it’s so bright! It was basically screaming at you that it was there,” you defended, attracting a few customers attention with your outburst. You didn’t understand why you had to go through this so early in the morning when you were already irritable beyond belief.

The boy seemed to have noticed this as well, discomfort washing over him at the feeling of the crowd’s stares. Ultimately deciding he would rather give up the fight with the crazy stranger from the café and leave before he was late for his job at the tattoo studio.

“Whatever,” he huffed, leaving the café, the bells at the doors jingling loudly as it swung back.

Something about the apology just wasn’t enough for you, (maybe you just expected more because he irked you) but you were already late enough for class. Rolling your eyes, you’d slung your bag around your shoulder with a thump, gripping your cup in your hands tightly and picking your umbrella (that now had an evident crease in one of its panels) up before running to class.

Your mom had called you halfway through the day while you were on your way to classes, the gesture enough to make you huff good-naturedly at her insistence.

“Hello?”

“Hey, honey, is this a good time?” her tone was practically dripping with motherly concern, making you let out a breathy laugh, nodding even though she couldn’t see you.

“Yeah, It’s fine,” you told her, “but anyway, I think my umbrella’s broken. Some idiot at the café this morning practically destroyed it with their stupid combat boots.”

Your mom didn’t seem to pay much attention to your rant, cutting straight to the point that she’d called you for.

“Have you met Jisung yet?”

You sighed as you entered the auditorium for your next lecture, lowering your head slightly as you found a seat around the middle of the hall.

“No, not yet. I’m only going over to the house after my classes end, remember? But I heard my stuff already got moved there,” you explained to her, holding your phone between your ear and your shoulder as you took your laptop from your bag, setting it on the table gently.

“Oh, do you want his phone number? To make things easier for the both of you,” she offered, earning a disinterested hum from you.

 Your mom was more than excited about the fact that you would be 1. Not living in a residence within the school and 2. Living with the son of one of her friends from college. You figured your duty as her child now would be to appease her and at least try to live out her desires for you. Which in this case was sharing an apartment alone with some boy you didn’t even know. Maybe your mom was just a little more trusting than most.

You shrugged, “yeah, sure, just send it to me.”

Your mom let out a squeal, “I’m so excited for you to meet him, honey, he’s such a nice boy. You two are sure to get along. I’m so happy you agreed to this.”

Letting out a small sigh, you leant back in your seat as you held your phone with one hand, your other hand going to unlock your computer.

“I still feel like I’m imposing on them,” you hummed.

“Honey, it’s fine, Jisung’s parents insisted that you didn’t have to pay any rent.”

You hummed patronisingly, it wasn’t as if it was the first time she was telling you this, “yeah, uh-huh,” your attention was momentarily diverted by the tall boy that was standing next to you, gesturing to the empty seat with raised eyebrows.

“Sorry, is there anyone sitting here?”

Your lips parted, “okay, mom I gotta go I’ll call you once I’ve settled into the apartment.”

You did a once-over of the boy, who shook his head to get his bangs away from his eyes, giving you a wide smile. Gesturing for him to go ahead and sit down, he’d flopped down onto the seat with a sigh.

Letting go of his bag strap as he turned around, he gave you an appreciative nod as he opened his bag, pulling out a notebook and pen.

“First day, huh,” his voice was deeper than you’d remembered it to be from just seconds ago, his hand coming up to cover his growing smile as a little giggle escaped him, “I’m Lucas.”

“How’d you know?” You hummed, “and my name’s Y/N.” You swore you’d never seen a boy with such sparkly eyes before in your life.

Lucas shrugged, leaning his folded arms on the desk and turning his head slightly to observe you in your confusion, one hand shifting to play with his earring, “haven’t seen you around before.”

“You talk like you know everyone in the school,” you scoffed.

Lucas didn’t seem to sense your sarcasm, simply giving you a shrug, “possibly. And also because it’s my second time taking this stupid class so I should know an unfamiliar face when I see one,” he told you, a hint of bitterness in his tone.

Your eyebrows raised, hearing the doors at the bottom of the auditorium open, a short stocky man walking through and making his way to the speaker’s desk.

“Second time? Why?” You hummed, keeping your gaze on the man in anticipation for what he was about to say.

Lucas cast a glare towards the professor, “I thought he was boring so I didn’t really go much for his lectures the last time, you know, because I thought they weren’t graded. But he decided to include them as passing criteria way too late.”

Lucas pointed at the professor, his sleeve riding up slightly to expose a tattoo at his wrist. You were starting to wonder if everyone at this place had tattoos, the sight seeming fairly common from just your few hours in the school.

You winced, nodding, already getting the sensing that this man was someone you needed to be on good terms with.

“Alright, class, enough talking. From now on, I’m the only one that should be talking so I expect nothing but your full attention from here onwards.”

This was going to be a long lecture.

===

Your mom had texted you the Jisung kid’s number, and you’d dropped him a text saying you were on your way to the apartment, getting a reply from him that he was on his way there as well. You figured he seemed pretty polite, from the way he texted you, so you guessed that helped in making you dread the whole arrangement less.

When you’d reached, you’d ended up at an apartment building that looked fairly plain, walking in to the lobby and scanning the sparsely decorated notice board for residents, the last thing put up being a picnic for families that was 3 months ago.

Stepping into the lift, you’d noticed that though it was relatively well-maintained, it seemed rather dull, from the prison-grey lights to how the mirrors were covered for maintenance. Thankfully, your apartment itself was relatively well-maintained (you remembered your mom telling you the apartment was previously being rented out by Jisung’s parents), aside from the space being a little not-so conducive. But well, they were letting you live here for free, so you couldn’t complain.

Setting your things down onto the sofa in the living room, you moved to examine the respective rooms, frowning when you realised that whoever Jisung was, he’d taken the room with the bigger bed, his clothes either already hung up on the clothing rack or stacked up on his bed.

Walking into what you assumed was your room now, you tried to envision how you could make this space more conducive. From moving the bed aside to switching the desk out to the living room for more light, you tried out different permutations in your head, your time as an amateur interior designer cut short when you heard the rustling of keys at the front door.

Smoothing your hair down to make sure it was neat, you’d dodged the boxes of stuff as you leant over the sofa, curious to see what this Jisung kid would look like.

Jisung had done the same outside the door, making sure his hair and clothes were somewhat presentable before pushing the door open. And immediately wanting to close it back.

“You’re Jisung?”

“You’re Y/N?”

The two of you spoke simultaneously, disbelief and shock written over your features as you pointed an accusatory finger at him.

Like you mentioned before, maybe if the boy at the café this morning wasn’t Jisung, you would’ve regretted your actions a lot less.

Jisung gave you a look of disbelief, stepping into the apartment and folding his arms across his chest, his bag still hanging from his shoulder. He couldn’t wrap his head around how unlucky he must have been to have had such a bad encounter with someone he was about to spend probably his entire college life living with.

He sighed deeply, “now I don’t feel like paying the rent on your behalf anymore.”

You rolled your eyes, “your parents are paying the rent, not you. You have no say in it.”

Jisung made a sound of protest, shaking his head vigorously, his eyes widening in his aggravation.

“No, they aren’t. I told them to let me take care of it because I felt bad for them. But I don’t feel bad for you, so you’re gonna have to split the rent with me.”

Your lips parted, fumbling for a response.

Jisung’s expression was expectant, provoking you almost, “what? Would you rather get an apartment on your own? ‘Cause I’d be more than happy to let my parents know.”

You wanted to cry. It was already the start of the school term so staying in the dorms was out of the question for you already, the deadline having closed long ago. And you knew that finding another apartment in the school district that was within your budget was going to be a pain in the ass. So as much as you hated to admit it, splitting the rent with Jisung was your best option. You needed to get a job asap.

You rolled your eyes, “well…well then why do you get the bigger room?” You huffed, mirroring his stance as you folded your arms across your chest.

Jisung gave you a mocking pout, “simple, ‘cause I got here first,” he brought his hand up, inspecting his nails.

“You should be glad I’m not charging you extra for inconveniencing me,” he added.

Not being able to help but let a small gasp leave you, you were quick to respond, “inconveniencing you? You were the one that got coffee all over my file.”

Jisung shrugged, “potato, potato. Doesn’t change the fact that you made me late for work.”

You clenched your jaw, watching with a glare as he strolled past you, gesturing to the space in the living room which you’d been planning on using as a work area, “I have dibs on this space.”

You frowned, mumbling, “I wanted to shift the desk in my room out here, though.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. Wanna consider moving out now?”

You inhaled deeply, brushing past him to grab your luggage that contained your clothes.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” you huffed in annoyance as you walked into your room, his laughter echoing behind you.

===

“How can you say that? Jisung is a very nice boy,” your mother cried, making you roll your eyes, glaring at your phone from where you were hanging your clothes up.

“He’s the idiot that I fought with at the café, it’s not like I’m saying this without reason.”

You heard your mom sigh deeply, conversing with your dad about something in the background, “try to put your attitude aside for once, please, I’m begging you.”

You groaned, kicking your luggage aside before you made your way over to your bed, flopping down next to your phone with a loud sigh, wincing at the feeling of the springs in your mattress. You were so sure Jisung’s bed was more comfortable.

“It’s not me that has the attitude, it’s him,” you mumbled, sulkiness evident in your tone.

“Enough, Y/N," she said sternly, "If I hear anymore complaints you’re really gonna be in for it.”

You kicked at your blanket, “fine, goodnight. Love you.”

You hung up, staring at your desk as you contemplated on whether to move it into the living room now or tomorrow, distracted from your thoughts when you could hear the water running, not to mention the awfully loud sound of Jisung singing in the shower.

How thin were the walls? Your glare had shifted to your door now.

“Can you keep it down?” You shouted, hearing a silence on his end momentarily. Heaving a sigh of relief, you turned around in your bed only to hear him resume his singing, except this time, you swore it got louder.

Burying your head under your pillow, you kicked at your blanket, hoping this was the worst it could get. It wasn’t that bad, right? You could deal with simple shower concerts. Maybe living with him wasn’t going to be as hard as you thought.

===

Safely to say, you should’ve thought otherwise.

The very first time you realised you'd underestimated Han Jisung, was when you'd gone to the fridge to fix yourself something for dinner, only to find post-its on every single one of the items that read : 'property of han jisung! not for y/n'

You'd moved to look for something else to eat that was unlabelled, only realising then that he'd even gone to the (very petty) extent of labelling the snacks in the cupboard.

Huffing, you'd shrugged your coat on, grabbed your wallet and made a trip to the grocery store.

Cursing him in your head as you shoved your items into your basket, earning yourself looks of scandal from the elders who were for whatever reason still in the grocery store, though you couldn’t be bothered to look more amiable. You’d wanted nothing more than to throw out Jisung’s groceries, but of course, you were a nice person, so you wouldn’t do that. It seemed like you just couldn't get a break when your phone had begun to buzz in your pocket.

"Hey, mom," you hummed, trying not to sound too tired lest she started to drill you about resting. You brought your groceries over to the self-checkout aisle, heaving them onto the small platform with a grunt.

"Have you eaten dinner?"

You huffed, "we didn't have enough food, so I went to buy some groceries." Biting back your tongue, you rolled your eyes, scanning your items and bagging them angrily.

"How's finding a job been?"

You shrugged, Lucas had told you about various job openings nearby your house, (surprising you with how much he knew about the area) one of them you were looking into was a simple job at a café near your apartment. Thankfully, not the one that you'd had your little ‘encounter’ with Jisung at.

"Pretty alright, nothing too difficult,” you hummed, fumbling to pull out your card so you could make your payment, ignoring the stares you were getting from the people queueing up behind you.

"Alright, that's good to hear."

"Everything alright with you and dad at home?" you asked, shoving your card back into your wallet before slinging the bags onto your forearms, beginning to walk out of the supermarket.

"Yes, of course. Don't worry about us, we just miss you."

You sighed, something about the night air putting you in a drowsy mood, "me too. I never realised how much I liked living with you guys till now..."

"Don't tell me you're still having a hard time with Jisung," you heard her tone, your knew that this was her way of implying she didn't want to hear anything other than that you and Jisung's housemate experience was just peachy.

"Don't worry, mom, everything's... fine."

You'd tugged your coat closer to yourself, giving her whatever updates you figured she'd want to know before hanging up, enjoying the peaceful walk before you reached your apartment, figuring this was as much peace you were going to get before you returned to the apartment to be met with his stupid antics again.

And surely enough, the evening breeze accompanied with the sounds of faint conversation from the restaurants nearby had started to put you in a rather drowsy mood, making you start to contemplate if you were even still hungry, the lure of sleep starting to seem more tempting.

Reaching your apartment building, the lift lobby illuminated by a harshly bright lightbulb, you’d bumped into one of the ladies living on the same floor as you exited the lift on your floor, watching as her eyes widened in surprise, giving you a small smile as she enquired.

“Oh, are you the resident from apartment 19B?" you nodded.

If you were drowsy before, you sure weren't drowsy anymore.

You flinched slightly when her expression had changed in an instant, her once amiable expression now replaced with an annoyed glare.

"Can you please refrain from singing so loudly in the middle of the night? Some of us are trying to sleep."

Your eyebrows raised, shaking your head as you slot your keys into the keyhole, opening the door just a crack, "oh, sorry, that's not me that's my housemate—”

The middle-aged lady had narrowed her eyes at you, "you know, It's not ethical for someone as young as you to be living with a man when you're so young—”

"Okay, sorry, won't happen again!" you told her quickly in your attempt to appease her, shoving the door open and slamming it behind you, turning around only to see Jisung standing in the living room, dressed in loungewear with black gloves on his hands as he pointed at you in amusement, his shoulders shaking as he laughed.

"Aw, I'm not the only one that thinks it's not ethical for you to live here," he pouted.

You rolled your eyes, "I can't believe she thought I was the one singing," you huffed, going over to the kitchen to see yet more dishes in the sink.

Pointing at them with a look of disbelief on your face, "are you not gonna clean these either?"

Jisung turned around, looking at the sink with evident contempt, shrugging. He held his hands up to you, showing you that they were currently gloved.

"I'm a little busy, why don't you do me a favour this once? Consider it compensation," he grinned, making his way back to....your room?

"What are you doing in my room?" you asked, shoving the last of your groceries haphazardly into the fridge before you'd followed him into your room, shutting your mouth quickly when you saw that he’d practically set up a work station next to your desk, looking closer to find that he was using what looked like tattoo equipment.

“Practicing,” he shrugged.

You didn’t bother asking what his business using tattoo equipment was, simply huffing in exasperation, “and you had to do it in my room, of all places?”

Jisung nodded, pushing one of his sleeves up on his shoulder, revealing a rather big tattoo on his arm that was partially hidden by his sleeve.

“This is the only room with an accessible plug and a good enough space to work in.”

“Then why didn’t you just take this room as your bedroom?” You were dumbfounded at the way he was so nonchalant about his actions, the buzzing of the tattoo needle resuming as he practised on fake skin.

“I like to sleep in a comfortable bed,” he shrugged, leaning back to look at his tattoo.

“And you think I don’t?” You shot back, your hands going to your hips, his reply coming just as quick.

“Well, for $300 bucks above the rent maybe you can,” he smirked, using a tissue to rub at the fake skin, looking at you as he poked his tongue in his cheek, quirking his eyebrows before turning back to continue tattooing.

That night, you remembered asking Lucas if he knew who Jisung was, since he’d mentioned how he was pretty into tattoos, having a few of his own, his reply only making you wonder if the world was just small or you were just unlucky.

lucas wong

8:53pm - oh yeah I know him! he’s apprentice-ing at the tattoo shop I usually go to, he’s pretty good-

8:53pm - why? do u like him? I cld put in a good word for u-

You sighed deeply

8:53pm - no thanks im good-

Little did you know, the next time Lucas had visited the the tattoo studio, he’d spotted Jisung working on his designs at one corner of the room, going against your request and disturbing Jisung even despite how he looked like that was the last thing he wanted, too focused on the shadings of his chrysanthemum flower sketch on his tablet to have paid attention to Lucas' entrance.

“Hey, do you know anyone named Y/N?”

Jisung’s face scrunched up in distaste, looking up at Lucas and hoping desperately that he was joking, “don’t tell me… freshman Y/N?”

Lucas nodded, his eyes lighting up in excitement, “yeah! So you guys do know each other.”

Jisung made an uncertain sound, “I wouldn’t call it much of a relationship. Y/N’s my housemate.”

Jisung’s words had sparked a realisation in Lucas, the latter only piecing together your disdain towards Jisung with your stories about your ‘asshole housemate’

Lucas’ silence had caught Jisung off guard, making Jisung look up at Lucas expectantly, “sorry, you wanted to go get something to eat, right?”

Lucas nodded, masking his shock with a smile, recovering quickly.

“Wait, lemme go call Chan,” Jisung murmured, beckoning the boy who was currently snacking at the reception area.

“Where do you guys wanna go?” Lucas asked, earning a hum from Chan.

“I kinda wanted to get a smoothie,” Chan admitted sheepishly, though thankfully, Jisung and Lucas didn’t seem to have a problem with that.

 “Why didn’t you wanna go to the other café? They’ve got better smoothies,” Lucas wondered out loud, making Jisung snort.

“We’re only going there because Chan has a fat crush on one of the baristas.”  

Which was what ended them up at the café you worked at.

The moment they had entered, you noticed your colleague tense beside you, bending down to pretend to take something from below the counter.  

“Shit, they’re here. Oh my god, help,”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “who?”

“That cute tattoo artist guy I was telling you about!” She whispered harshly, standing up and greeting the boys with a smile, her heart eyes directed particularly at one of them with curly hair.

Only then did you realise Lucas and Jisung were there, receiving an overwhelming feeling of wanting to bang your head into the cash register. You already saw him enough at home, and now you had to see him at work too?

“Hi, how may I help you?” You smiled at the curly haired boy, casting a glare in Jisung’s direction, the boy looking equally as dismayed to see you here.

“Hello, can I get the berry smoothie?” He asked, and you stepped aside, letting your colleague ring up his order while you prepared his drink, giving it to your colleague to serve since she’d spent so long talking to him.

Lucas had mouthed a ‘sorry’ to you when he’d gone to sit at one of the tables with Chan, Jisung lingering at the cashier as your colleague went to the backroom to squeal.

“What do you want?” you wore a bored expression.

Jisung looked almost too focused, his eyes glaring at the laminated menu between the both of you.

“I changed my mind, I want a drink too.”

You suppressed your urge to roll your eyes, your finger scratching at the corner of the cash register, “you couldn’t have ordered it like five seconds ago?”

Jisung shot you a look, “yeah, well I didn’t want it five seconds ago.”

Inhaling deeply, you’d gestured to the menu, and now not only was your expression bored-to-death, but your tone was too, "what do you want?”

“I want an iced americano,” he told you, pausing before he added, “and ask your friend to make it. I don’t trust you not to spit in my drink.”

You gave him a sarcastic smile, “good call.”

Ringing up his order, you’d called your friend, dismissing any thought of ever having a normal encounter with Jisung.

Upon returning to his table, Chan had given him a look, "Lucas told me you know the cashier."

"Not the one you think is cute, don't worry,” Jisung sighed, glancing in his drink just for good measure.

Chan's eyebrows lifted in amusement, "so the one you think is cute?"

Almost instinctually, Jisung replied, "yeah," paying more attention to his drink than his words. Looking up when he heard Chan and Lucas struggle to stifle their giggles.

"What?"

Lucas clapped his hands together, his smile wide, "you just said Y/N was cute."

"No, I didn't, you did." Jisung shot back quickly. It was obvious that retaliation didn't always have to make sense for him.

Chan had a curious glint in his eyes now, the corner of his lips quirking up into a smirk, "I mean, you guys do live together right, and you've really never thought anything about her?"

“I did, I thought her nagging was annoying as hell,” Jisung shrugged.

 Chan narrowed his eyes at Jisung, an amused smirk on his face, “you know that’s not what I meant.”

Jisung gave Chan a pointed look, "I'd appreciate if you wouldn't stir shit, especially not in front of him." Jisung pointed at Lucas.

"You didn't answer the question," Lucas sing-songed.

Jisung scoffed, casting a furtive glance towards your direction where you were smiling as your colleague showed you something on their phone.

Jisung shrugged, it wasn’t as if you looked bad or anything, with his pride, he’d probably have told Chan that you were pretty if he squinted.

“Guess if they smiled more they'd be...decent."

 Lucas raised his eyebrows, enjoying the scene playing out in front of him very much, “decent, huh.”

Chan leant back in his seat, shaking his head at Jisung, "now I feel like I have to make you my apprentice for relationships too."

Jisung scoffed, regaining his usual confidence.

"If by that you mean you want me to stand at the counter giggling my ass off like how you did with that cashier then no thanks, I'm good on my own."

===

You'd tried your best to tolerate Jisung, especially after Lucas fed you some story about how he takes a while to warm up to people (which you totally bought).

This tolerance came in the form of things like waking up earlier to use the bathroom so the both of you wouldn't have to fight in the morning, or giving him reminders to do the laundry or clean the dishes but only doing them after he forgot the third reminder.

Jisung usually forgot to turn off the lights whenever he went to sleep (though sometimes he did it on purpose, not liking the eerie darkness of the house when the lights were off), so you would always end up waking from the glare of the lights that seeped into your room, stepping over the mess of clothes or socks (sometimes even shoes) in the walkways and turning them off for him instead of nagging him about the lights. See? Tolerance.

Call you a pushover or whatever, but you kind of prided yourself on how your well of patience seemed to run deep. Very deep. Deeper than the average human, you supposed, even.

However, days like the ones you were having now, just didn't seem to let you draw from that well of patience.

You'd started off your shitty morning when you'd slept through your alarm, needing your usual work clothes but realising that Jisung hadn't done the laundry, leaving you with no choice but to grab the nearest hoodie you could find on your bedroom floor and sprint to work.

If that wasn't enough, you'd landed cashier duty as punishment for being late, your social battery starting to empty not even halfway through the day. Your 'hi, how may I help you's slowly turning to 'what would you like's to eventually 'hi's and ending up with a small smile and gesture towards the menu.

It didn't help that Chan, the tattoo artist your colleague had an obvious thing for, had shown up halfway to try and strike a conversation with you about Jisung, much to no avail.

“Aren’t you wondering why Jisung isn’t here?” You remembered him asking, to which you’d shook your head.

“Not really,” you shrugged, earning a thoughtful hum from Chan.

“Really? You’re not even the slightest bit curious?”

You had shook your head at him then, remembering the way he looked so shocked to have made you even more curious about why he was asking you this in the first place.

By the time you were done with your work, you'd wanted nothing more than to just go home, take the longest shower of your life and curl up in your horribly uncomfortable bed. Except you couldn't even do that, because you had unfinished readings for your class the next day.

You figured if you sat yourself at your desk with no distractions you could be done sooner and go to sleep sooner, but your one distraction had just come home from the tattoo studio and was somehow getting on your nerves even more today.

Not only had he been acting as if he was the opera community's 'next big thing', he'd proceeded to seat himself on the sofa behind you, watching whatever show he was into loudly, seeming to find whatever the protagonist was saying to be too hilarious to just enjoy the show silently.

You figured you could handle that much, you know, having to live up to your preachings on tolerance, deciding to breathe deeply and suppress your urge to tell him to shut up, and soon enough, he'd disappeared.

But your joy was short lived, once again, when Jisung came back out, singing as he made a snack for himself and proceeded to eat it right in front of you, the smell growing more and more distracting.

Now, he was now lounging on the sofa in the living room, headphones on and connected to his laptop that rest on his stomach, but still typing away with his phone not on silent, the keyboard sounds distracting you from your reading. You figured, maybe your well of patience was just closed today.

“Hey,” you called. No response. If anything, the silence of the apartment had made his typing sounds even louder.

“Hey, oh my god, can you like put your phone on silent or something?" You tried again. Still no response, now, he was humming in between his pauses before he would type another burst of words on his phone.

Deciding you had to take matters into your own hands, you stormed over to where he was, your book still in your hands as you stood in front of him, making him turn to you with wide-eyes.

Pulling his headphones off of his head, he frowned, "what?"

“This,” you gestured pointedly towards his phone, “put your phone on silent, it's distracting me."

Jisung would've complied, though a part of him couldn't help but be annoyed by your nagging, his instinct prompting him to act defensively, “why don’t you just listen to some music or something? Then my typing sounds wouldn’t be a problem,” he told you dismissively, making you groan in frustration.

“I can’t study with music, it’s already hard enough for me to focus as it is.”

Jisung was annoyed, “It’s just a typing sound, what are you getting so worked up for? You’re always getting on my back about everything when I’m just minding my own business."

You let out a groan, "look, it's been more than a month, and i'm up to here with your shit," you held a hand way above your head for emphasis, any of your tolerance long gone out of the window (which he had also left open, making the apartment chilly and noisy).

Jisung's eyebrows knit in a frown, your outburst coming as a shock to him, "fine, whatever. I'll put my phone on silent, chill."

You shook your head, your gaze firm and unwavering, "no, I wanna make rules."

Rules? Jisung wanted to scoff. What was this, a second-grade classroom?

Jisung stared at you in shock, nodding dumbly. "Rules....oka-alright, yeah. Let's make rules."

You nodded firmly, "first of all, if you're gonna make food at ungodly hours in the morning, eat it in your own room."

"And the dishes, clean up after yourself," you added, gripping your book tightly in your hand.

“Stop leaving your shit in the corridors,” you continued, “and pack up your shoes it’s such a mess at the door way I can barely walk into the house,” you huffed, feeling as though with every rule you made you were finally letting your feelings be heard.

Jisung wracked his brains for a rule of his own, finding ways to regain control over the situation, "well, I have a rule too! You gotta stop nagging me to do shit," he sat up, setting his headphones on the sofa cushion.

You let out a tiny gasp, "excuse me? I only ask you to ‘do shit’ that you should be doing."

Before you could get carried away, you continued, "and as for the laundry—”

Jisung perked up, “okay, how about this. I do the dishes and you do the laundry," he suggested with a forced smile, bringing a hand up to run it through his hair, which fell back against his forehead gently.

"You know for a fact that that’s not the same, so we'll switch," you told him, "you do laundry on one week when I do the dishes, and the next week i'll do the laundry and you do the dishes. Fair, right?"

Jisung huffed, rolling his eyes, "whatever."

At the mention of laundry, Jisung glanced over at what you were wearing, frowning at the familiarity of his hoodie.

"Good, now that we have an agree—”

"That's mine," he pointed at your stomach, making you look at him in disbelief.

"Huh?" Your stomach? Your hands found their way to cover your stomach.

"The hoodie. It's mine."

You looked down at the hoodie you were wearing, a frown evident on your face. You didn't know what he was talking about, you had this hoodie since you were in high-school, it couldn't be his.

"No, it's mine. I had this since I was in high-school," you frowned, unsure if this was some sort of joke he was trying to play.

Jisung couldn't hide his amusement, letting a laugh slip from his lips, "yeah, so did I... which is why I know that that's mine."

You scoffed, "it was on my bedroom floor," you mumbled, seeing him nod patronisingly.

"Because I left it there," he told you, enunciating his words slower, shocking you when he'd reached over and grabbed you by the sleeve, raising your hand up for you to see.

"Look, this stain. It's tattoo ink. I would know because you're wearing the wrong hoodie. New rule, don’t wear my clothes.”

You stood silent, huffing as you removed the hoodie, leaving you in your shirt and sweats, tossing the hoodie at him in annoyance, the smirk on his face making you even more annoyed.

"Fine, take your stupid hoodie, I don’t wanna wear your stupid clothes anyway,” you huffed, “and you’re on laundry duty this week."

You didn't finish your readings that night.

===

You would like to think your rule system was working pretty well, seeing as you didn't find yourself butting heads with Jisung as often as before.

Halfway into the semester, you had grown busier with your assignments, which had managed to take your attention away from Jisung.

Though you were certainly more tired than usual, from attending birthday parties of friends to working, to rushing your readings during any free time you got (not to mention squeezing in any bit of sleep whenever you could), to rushing through your assignments just to meet the packed deadlines. But you couldn’t complain, this was typical for any college student you knew.

But of course, that didn’t mean you weren’t itching for a break, eyeing the semester break on your calendar that was fast approaching, letting yourself get carried away during classes with Lucas as you both planned on your pieces of scrap paper all the things you’d wanted to do during the break.

Similarly, Jisung had grown busier at the tattoo studio, and Chan had recommended him to a music producer that was interested in hearing Jisung's compositions.

Jisung was more than thankful that Chan had given him that opportunity, of course, but what was bothering him was the pain-in-the-ass creative block he was beginning to struggle with.

Not only was he struggling to find inspiration for a song he'd wanted to make, but the process seemed almost painfully slow, with how he'd fumble around with ideas that he would start on but eventually scrap, deciding that he 'wasn't feeling it'.

He'd started receiving commissions for tattoo designs, and you'd noticed he wasn't at home as often as he was before because he'd made it a point to coop himself up in the studio to try to churn out these design requests.

Fortunately, his customers were always satisfied (and he thought that was great, you know, with all the good words from Chan he was getting), but he wasn't.

Chan had seemed to sense this too, making sure to check in on Jisung more than usual during this period.

"Hey, I'm heading home a little earlier today, you'll be fine alone?"

Jisung's head lifted when he heard Chan's voice, pulling one of his earbuds from his ear as he nodded.

Chan glanced at Jisung's papers scattered around him, of half-done or halfway-abandoned sketches, giving him a look of sympathy, "don't work too hard, alright?" he huffed, glancing out of the window.

"I heard it might rain tonight, so make sure you get home before the rain hits, alright?"

Jisung waved Chan off, not paying any care to the impending rain as he bid Chan goodbye, continuing to tap his pencil on the table in his search for good ideas.

Maybe he needed to consult a lifeline.

"Hello, Lucas?"

The said lifeline was more than happy to hear Jisung's voice, having heard from you that he wasn't home as much recently, a part of him concerned as well.

"Hey, man, what's up?"

Jisung hummed, "wanted to ask if you had any ideas on what tattoos you think would be cool."

Lucas snorted, "you're asking me? You could draw a turd and i'd want to get it tattooed. Dude, you're too good, just go with your gut."

Jisung let out a whine, "my gut's not being very useful right now."

Lucas hummed, letting out an urgent grunt of surprise, "I know! Why don't you take a look at your older designs, maybe they'd give you some vibes or something."

Jisung shrugged, figuring this was probably the best advice he was gonna get, thanking Lucas before hanging up.

Picking up his tablet, Jisung had scrolled through his various sketches until he'd reached the very first few designs, sighing at the sight of the sketches, looking at his first sketch of a peony flower, with leaves dangling along the stem wedged between the budding flowers.

Jisung figured he wouldn't let his dissatisfaction subside until he tried doing a better rendition of the sketch, to refine the shading or the flow of the shape from what he'd learnt from Chan overtime.

Putting back his earbuds in, he turned his music up, beginning to work on the sketch, riding on the motivation he was afraid would disappear at any given moment.

Jisung was surprised at how fast he was done, ( only to look at the clock and realise he wasn't that fast and that it was already a little past midnight ). Removing his earbuds and going back to the sound of the whirring air conditioner and the loud sound of rain thumping against the gravel outside, Jisung knew he was done for.

He hadn't brought an umbrella with him, and the rain frankly didn't look like it was going to stop anytime soon, Jisung contemplated his very limited options.

Was a binder enough to shield him from the rain? Probably not. But was it better than putting down his pride to text you to come and pick him up? He thought the binder was better, honestly.

Deciding to try his luck anyway, he'd sent you a text.

Little did Jisung know, you'd dozed off on your bed while reading, the vibration of your phone next to your face having woken you from your nap, the sound of the rain outside harshly thumping against the window.

han jisung 12:37am -hello, housemate. it is your housemate, han jisung. its raining rly badly. wld u be so kind as to come to the tattoo studio with an umbrella for me pls :D-

You frowned in annoyance, your eyes barely open as you replied him. There was no way you were going to send yourself out in the thunderstorm like that.

12:37am - no. just wait until it stops raining-

Thinking that had settled your worries, you'd shoved your phone underneath your pillow, deciding you'd let yourself sleep in since tomorrow was a Saturday after all.

You should've known better, that this was Jisung, the 'i'm tougher than a little bit of rain' Jisung, so you should've seen it coming when you'd woken up to the sound of his incessantly ringing phone.

Rolling out of your bed with a grunt, you'd pushed yourself off of the bed, ready to confront Jisung about not answering his phone.

Walking across the corridor and pushing his bedroom door open, you'd been met with an empty room, frowning as you walked over to the bed, picking the phone up and stopping the alarm.

You noticed that he'd received a few texts from Chan, not being able to help yourself from reading them.

chan 1:20am - dude! why didnt u just wait for the rain to stop?- 1:22am - ure gna fall sick…-

Frowning, you made your way into the living room, spotting Jisung curled up on the sofa with his blanket at his feet, an instant feeling in your gut that something was wrong.

“Jisung?” You called, seeing his eyebrows furrow slightly.

In spite of yourself, you’d walked over to where he lay, your hand coming out to nudge at his shoulder with his phone.

“Hey, are you…alright?” You watched and waited as he opened his eyes slowly, blinking at you in a daze. There was perspiration beading at his temples despite the coolness of the apartment, giving you more reason to feel like there was something wrong.

As much as you didn’t like him, you couldn’t help but feel as though you were responsible for him, and it was kind of your fault that he’d walked back in the rain. You glanced at your brightly-coloured umbrella leaning against the wall, figuring there was something about this umbrella that always got you into trouble with Jisung.

You suppressed your hesitation, bringing a hand up to his forehead, Jisung not even daring to budge even an inch as you pushed his bangs back. The back of your hand pressing against his forehead gently, your breath hitching at the sheer heat of his body.

This was probably the most contact you’d ever had with him in your months of living together, and Jisung knew this too, not knowing how to feel about the concern you were showing him, feeling as though it was some kind of ridiculous fever dream.

“You walked home in the rain didn’t you?” You murmured, your feeling of guilt growing as you saw him nod at you.

You cursed inwardly, “do you have a thermometer?”  

Jisung shook his head, attempting to get up, “it’s fine, I can take care of myself, just give me my phone.”

You handed him his phone, ignoring his previous statement as you went into the kitchen in your search for any kind of medicine you could give him, cursing once again when you realised there was none. Trust the both of you to only care to buy groceries.

“We don’t have jack shit in this house,” you groaned, walking over to the bathroom, finding a cloth and a small pail to fill with cold water, bringing it over to the coffee table and setting it down next to the sofa.

“I’ve gotta go to work,” Jisung sighed, though he made no move to get up, a part of him just waiting for you to refute him so he could use you as an excuse to get off work.

You shot him a look, “no, you don’t. Shut up and lie down, I’ll go and buy your stupid medicine. If I come back and you’re not here I’ll kill you,” you warned, missing the way Jisung had complied happily, lying back down with his head on one of the sofa cushions.

Squeezing the water from the cloth, you may have slapped it a little harshly on his forehead, earning an annoyed glare from him.

Walking to grab your wallet, you cast one last look at his bored face, seeing him rush to close his eyes when he saw you glaring.

“I mean it, you better stay here.”

Jisung nodded, waving you off.

On your way to the pharmacy, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was a good thing that Jisung was sick.

In terms of your pros, if he was sick, he wouldn’t be able to annoy you, right? And him being sick meant that you’d basically had your desk and your bedroom to yourself, with him unable to practice tattooing in your room and use your desk as his sketching station.

In terms of your cons… well, you were planning on getting some rest today, and having to watch Jisung meant you would technically have to be near him, wouldn’t you? You were starting to wonder if that was even a con that he was basically giving you an excuse to laze around and watch tv.

“Hi, how may I help you?” The pharmacist asked.

You hummed, “uh…do you have those over-the-counter medicine and stuff for like someone with fever?”

The pharmacist nodded, pulling out the various boxes and pointing at each one, confusing you with the sheer amount of names she was listing, resulting in you just choosing the one you recognised your parents telling you to take whenever you were sick.

Making your payment, you swallowed whatever pride you had that was making you hesitate. You figured Jisung falling sick was karma for that text you sent him the night before, so you decided that you were going to see him recover for yourself.

Upon returning to the house, you’d shrugged your jacket off, making your way over to where he was, sitting on your heels next to where he was so you could gently peel the cloth from his head, replacing it with one that was soaked in colder water.

You’d drawn back slightly when you felt Jisung flinch as you laid the towel on his forehead, opening one eye to look at you, “that was fast.”

You rolled your eyes, shushing him as you took the medicine out, along with a glass of water you’d gotten from the kitchen, bringing it over to him with an expectant look.

Jisung took them from you wordlessly, swallowing them down as he averted his gaze from you, unsure why you were looking at him like some kicked puppy.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, reaching over to grab the television remote in an attempt to calm your nerves, “this is kind of my fault. Since I didn’t go over to the tattoo studio yesterday.”

Jisung took a moment to process what you said, wincing as he let out a (fake) cough, only serving to make you feel even more guilty than you already were.

“Are you actually…apologising to me?” Jisung’s smile was poorly hidden behind his hand, making you roll your eyes, your guilt ever-present when you looked at him.

Jisung sighed, deciding to let you off this once, “seriously, it’s no big deal. I didn’t expect you to come, anyway. I was just trying my luck,” he told you, making you frown, your mouth forming a slight pout.

“I was just being petty, I’m…” you trailed off, shaking your head, “yeah, whatever, I’m just really sorry.”

Jisung looked at you with a hint of a smile on his face, taking his lower lip between his teeth as he nodded. He wasn’t sure if it was his fever, or the way your gestures were exuding warmth, but Jisung swore just for a moment. A second, almost, he kind of thought you looked cute.

Jisung nodded, “I’ll let you know by the end of the day.”

You frowned, turning away from the television to face him, your back resting on the sofa slightly, “let me know about what?”

Jisung kept his gaze fixed on the television, bringing his hand up to scratch at his collarbone, hints of his tattoos peeking out from his neckline.

 Shrugging, Jisung’s gaze shifted to meet yours, “if your apology is accepted.”

You were sure that your mom would’ve just laughed in your face if you told her about your experience today, as you began to realise just how much you didn’t hate Jisung’s company when the both of you weren’t trying to fight each other.

In the few hours that had passed alone, you’d learnt much more about him than you had bothered to in your months living with him. You’d learnt that he was a music major, that wanted to pursue a career in music production, and that he’d gotten interested in tattoos when he’d met this kid named Changbin in his class, who introduced him to Chan for an apprenticeship.

As for Jisung? He was just learning that you weren’t as intolerable as he thought you were.

You’d ordered food for the both of you, Jisung having refused to eat porridge, and you were currently having an actual, comfortable conversation with him, the hallmark movie playing on the television long forgotten.

Jisung’s phone had started to ring, interrupting him mid-sentence as he told you about how the tattoo studio works, making you lean over to check who it was.

“It’s Chan.”

Jisung grimaced, “speak of the devil,” he scoffed. Shaking his head vigorously as you made to grab his phone, Jisung set his chopsticks down hurriedly to reach for his phone, only to grab air when you’d answered the call.

“Hello?” You heard Chan speak, an urgency to his tone.

“Hey, this is Y/N. Jisung is…not feeling so well right now.”

Jisung shot you a look, bringing his hands around his throat with his chopsticks held between his fingers, acting as if he was so sick he was about to pass out, making loud coughing noises in the background.

You couldn’t help but smile, scrunching your nose and waving him off in your attempt to get him to stop before he choked on his food.

Chan sighed, “Is he, now? Tell him I’m shifting today’s appointment to next Wednesday. Anyway, thanks, Y/N, bye,” he hung up promptly after.

You gave Jisung a grim look, setting the phone down slowly onto the coffee table, “Chan said he’s shifting your appointment to Wednesday.”

Jisung’s lips parted, almost forgetting his cheeks were full of food, tilting his head back to groan.

“Chan’s gonna kill me.”

“Why?”

Jisung shoved more food into his mouth, chewing slowly, “I totally forgot, I was supposed to do this girl’s tattoo today, but cause I’m, you know, sick,” he gave you a pointed look, “I can’t do it.”

“You do tattoos already? I thought you were still just…”

Jisung rolled his eyes, “what? Still just tattooing on fake skin?”

You nodded sheepishly, earning a sigh from him, though you didn’t miss the small smile on his face.

“I’ll have you know, I can tattoo people now. You know Lucas’ tattoo of the angel looking mermaid hybrid type thing?”

You hummed in thought, his description oddly specific yet successfully helping you visualise the tattoo, gesturing to your forearm, “the one he got here?”

Jisung nodded, “I did that for him.”

Your eyes widened, impressed at the scale of Jisung’s detail in his design, remembering how enamoured you were with it when Lucas had first showed it to you.

“Lucas’ been asking me to get a tattoo with him once the break starts,” you mentioned casually, earning a surprised hum from Jisung.

“Oh,” his eyes widened, as if he was still trying to process what you said, “really?”

You nodded, “still thinking about it, though. Haven’t really decided on what I wanted.”

Jisung scooped the last of his food into his mouth, giving you as nonchalant a shrug as he could muster.

“Well, uh, you know, if you want or something you could come one of the days during the break, I could show you some stuff I think you’d like.”

You nodded, the simple suggestion somehow exciting you.

That night, you’d gotten ready for bed, having made sure Jisung ate his medicine before he went to sleep.

Before you could move to switch the lights off, he’d stopped you/

“Wait, like…can you um… leave the lamp on?” You raised an eyebrow at him, but complied nonetheless, figuring this was your chance to repent while he was sick.

“Goodnight,” you murmured, stretching your arms above your head with a yawn.

“Yeah, night…” he murmured, inhaling deeply, “oh, and Y/N?”

You frowned, “uh-huh?” Looking at him expectantly, your breath hitched at the sight of the small smile that made its way on his face, the moonlight casting a calm glow in the room that mirrored his expression.

“Apology accepted.”

You smiled, nodding before you left. Hopefully this meant things were looking up for your relationship.

===

After that day, it was as if something in your dynamic had shifted, you found that Jisung was giving you lesser and lesser reasons to be annoyed at him.

Lucas had gotten a kick out of it when you’d told him about it.

“You guys finally realised it wouldn’t kill you to be nice to each other?” You remembered him telling you.

You would beg to differ, though, because with this shift in dynamic came a whole lot of awkwardness, especially when one of you had done something mildly nice for the other person.

Take this instance, for example.

You’d been sitting at your desk, trying to finish up on your essay that was due that week, not wanting to let your motivation subside without making full use of it (also because you knew if you didn’t do it now, you’d procrastinate and stress out when you realised you were behind time).

You’d been able to faintly smell Jisung’s noodles that he was cooking in the kitchen, making you sigh. You didn’t like eating things after you had your dinner, but you couldn’t lie and say that they didn’t smell great.

Expecting to hear his bedroom door shut and feel the smell of the noodles get fainter, he’d surprised you when he made his way over to you, setting a mug containing a hot drink on your desk.

Turning to him abruptly, he’d flinched back, looking at you with wide eyes as his hands flew up over his chest, making you laugh.

“I’m not gonna hit you, calm down.”

Jisung relaxed (albeit hesitantly), one of his hands coming up to grip the back of his neck, gesturing towards the mug with his other hand.

“Go ahead, I uh…didn’t poison it or anything,” a huff of awkward laughter left him.

You glanced from the mug to him, nodding slowly, “thanks.”

“Don’t, you know…sleep too late, and stuff,” he told you, earning a nod from you.

He nodded back at you, giving you a close-lipped smile before practically jogging back to his room, the door shutting a little louder than usual, a yelp of apology echoing after.

It wasn’t as if you didn’t try to to be nice to him either, but frankly, he wasn’t giving you many opportunities to do so.

 Jisung was still keeping his worries to himself, with his creative block seeming to have spiralled him into heavy feelings of anxiousness and a lack of confidence in his abilities.

You figured that things had been weighing heavy on his mind when you realised he’d been intentionally keeping the light on more often when he slept, or how the typing sounds of his keyboard would get more frequent as it got later into the night.

You’d even had Chan pleading for you to check up on Jisung every now and then once you noticed that he’d been sleeping a lot more and eating at irregular intervals. Listening out for his humming every now and then, you noticed the melodies seemed to have taken a more slow-paced, almost melancholic turn.

One night, you’d decided that if Jisung wasn’t going to give you opportunities to be nice to him, you would just create them for yourself. Making a determined trip to the kitchen, you’d boiled his favourite type of instant ramen, having seen how he made it so many times you knew just what to add in.

Padding over to his room, you’d knocked on the door before pushing it open slightly, watching him straighten up where he sat on his bed, setting his iPad down beside him, his thigh blocking it from your view.

“Hey, I uh…here,” you cut to the chase, Jisung was quick to find something to put under the pot on his bed, opening it and looking at you wordlessly.

“Figured the both of us could use a break,” you shrugged, oblivious to the way your words had stirred something within Jisung.

“What were you working on?” You asked, scooping some noodles into a bowl for Jisung and handing it to him.

He’d taken the bowl from you absently, his eyes widening at the mention of the sketch, unconsciously pushing it further behind him.

“Nothing, I was just doodling.”

Jisung had no idea how to explain that he had been trying to design something for you, something that reminded him of you. Because frankly, that was the only thing that seemed to be pushing his creative block aside at the moment.

“Can I see?”

Usually, Jisung would’ve fought you ( to the death ) before he’d let you see his unfinished designs, but there was something about your demeanour that made him feel like it was okay to show you. That it was okay to tell you that it wasn’t perfect because something inside of him just told him that you would understand.

In spite of any rational fibre in his being, he’d picked up the tablet, giving it to you as he continued to eat the ramen, his gaze never leaving your expression, oblivious to your scrolling as he was too busy gauging your reaction.

“These are all really pretty,” you told him, scrolling until you’d reached the bottom, clicking on one of the drawings and flipping the screen around to show Jisung.

“I love this,” you told him, earning a surprised hum from him.

He saw that you’d clicked on the sketch of the peony that he’d tried to refine that day he got rained on, wondering what made you choose that out of all his designs, since he was probably the least satisfied with that one.

“Are you sure? What about this one?” He took the tablet from you, scrolling back to the design he was working on, making you hum thoughtfully, eventually shaking your head no.

“I like the other one better,” you told him, earning a confused hum from him.

“Why?”

You scoffed, frowning at him, “why are you so against it? You’re the one that drew it,” you took the tablet back from him, holding it against your shoulder before shaking your head, setting it back down onto your lap.

“Besides,” you murmured, zooming in to admire the shading on the flower, “I think it’s beautiful.”

Jisung’s expression was unreadable, unsure how you had such strong appreciation for something he thought was his worst work, something about the way you praised it making a strange feeling that he couldn’t place build within his chest.

It was like before, the feeling of comfort, that he didn’t have to worry about any kind of creative block that could be thrown his way because you gave him a different perspective on his abilities.

You know, the cliché, hard-hitting feeling that ‘everything is gonna be okay’.

“Do you have anything happening during the break?” You asked, earning a shrug from him.

“I’ve gotta submit my song to Chan’s music producer friend.”

You perked up at the mention of Jisung’s song, “have you thought of what you wanted to do for it yet?”

Jisung shook his head, letting out a deep sigh, “it’s been kind of stressing me out, to be honest,” he admitted.

“I like…I don’t wanna give him something that doesn’t show what I’m capable of, you know?”

You nodded, “I understand…I wish I could help you but I don’t really, you know, know how,” you fidgeted with your fingers, hearing him grunt in dismissal.

“It’s fine,” he mustered a confident smile, “nothing I can’t handle.”

And for a moment, you really would’ve believed that he’d gotten it handled. Leaving him to continue with his work as you got ready for bed.

You had almost anticipated to hear typing sounds as you did every night these days. But unlike the other nights, Jisung didn’t very well feel like being alone with his thoughts that night, not even wanting to type them down. He craved the feeling of being okay, of feeling like he still had time and didn’t have to be anxious or feel shitty about his mediocre work.

So it had come as a surprise to you when you’d heard the gentle knock at your door that night just as you were about to drift into a half-asleep state, hearing the door open and watching as Jisung made his way hesitantly over to where you were.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” You heard him let out a shaky breath, and you didn’t need to ask him further, giving him a small hum of approval as he’d pulled the small heated mat from under your bed and made himself comfortable next to your bed.

Jisung let his head hit the ground gently, a deep sigh leaving him as he closed his eyes.

“Do you want me to leave the lamp on?” You mumbled, hearing him hum.

“No, it’s fine,” he told you, strangely not feeling much of a need for it now that he had you near him.

The both of you knew better than to speak more, the silence seeming to have made you understand how he was feeling. And as he lay there, with your presence in the room, Jisung felt alright, and so did you.

That night, there were no typing sounds.

===

Contrary to yesterday, you'd started today on a good note. Having bumped into Jisung the next morning after he'd gotten ready, meeting in the hallway when you were still dressed in your sleepwear, you couldn't help but smile.

"Morning," he murmured, a small smile on his face as he gave you a little wave, leaving promptly to meet Chan at the tattoo studio.

You didn't have work today, and you'd arranged a meeting with Lucas to hang out, the boy not seeming to want to waste anymore time when he'd finally arrived at the mall, practically bounding over to where you were waiting at the fountain in the atrium.

"So, have you thought about it yet?" he asked you, extending a hand to help you up.

Frowning, your lips parted in confusion, "thought about what?"

Lucas gave you an unamused look, as if you should've known what he was talking about. Pushing his sleeves up to his elbows, he'd raised his hands as he gestured, "you know, about what tattoo you wanted to get."

You made your way to a bubble tea outlet that Lucas wanted to check out, pestering you to go with him as part of the things he’d wanted to do during the semester break.

You couldn't help but laugh at the realisation, feeling awfully giddy at the thought of yesterday.

It was just a simple interaction, yeah, whatever, but no one said there were rules on what could make your heart flutter and what couldn't. All you knew was that whatever happened yesterday, did.

"Yeah, I did," you confessed, huffing with a smile on your face.

Lucas didn't know whether to feel afraid or happy that you were so quick to decide this time, looking at you in concern, "okay...so, what did you decide on?"

You pursed your lips, your smile disappearing, "I don't have a picture with me, it's on Jisung's ipad. But it's really pretty, it's like this drawing of a flower," you explained.

Lucas' eyes widened, his hand coming up to cover his mouth in a poor attempt to conceal his growing excitement.

"Oh, it's one of Jisung's stuff?"

You nodded, not seeming to understand why he was so happy about that, "what?"

"Nothing," he shrugged, "you and Jisung seem to be on pretty good terms recently, huh.”

You scoffed, shrugging because it wasn't as if what he said was a lie.

Lucas leaned closer to you, "have you been smiling at him more these days?"

You frowned at his question, shrugging at him nonetheless, turning your attention back to the menu board, "yeah, I guess."

Lucas' giggles escaped him like bubbles, nodding at you knowingly, “perfect. You should definitely keep doing that.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “questionable advice, but I’ll take it. Anyway, when are you planning on getting it done?"

Lucas straightened up, lifting his phone slightly to check the date.

"I made an appointment for Chan to do mine next Tuesday," he told you, “have you asked your parents yet?”

You nodded, “they weren’t as supportive until they found out Jisung designed it, they just told me not to get anything I’ll regret.”

Lucas couldn’t miss his opportunity to tease you, “well, I’m sure if Jisung’s doing it, the last thing you’d do is regret it.”

Shoving him aside and ignoring the way he’d burst into a fit of giggles, you ordered your drink, and Lucas’ as well once he calmed down enough to point at what he wanted on the menu.

“Maybe you should text him and ask about when you can book him?” Lucas gestured to you with his drink, his leg bouncing absently as he looked around the small outlet, the group of high-school girls in their uniforms sitting next to your table giggling as he’d skimmed over their table.

“Do you think that’d be too much? Should I just ask Chan instead?” You glanced at him for a sign of approval, “but then if I ask Chan would it make Jisung think I don’t want him to do my tattoo?” You wondered out loud, your stream of thought proving to be fairly amusing to Lucas.

“Just text him, it’s not that deep,” Lucas sipped on his drink.

“Nah, you know what? I should just ask him later at home, I shouldn’t bother him when he’s at work,” you shrugged, earning a sound of dismissal from him.

“Texting him would be a lot faster, you know.”

You shot him a look, “why are you so insistent on me texting him?”

Lucas scoffed, “why are you so against it?” He shot back.

Giving him a look of feigned annoyance, you’d set your phone down onto the table, staring blankly as Lucas had turned it to face him, unlocking your phone and going to Jisung’s chat.

“How should I start? ‘hey baby’—”

Your eyes widened, about to snatch the phone back from him when he’d pulled it towards himself in time, shooting you a look of feigned confusion.

“What? Too mild?” He laughed.

Sighing as he calmed down from his laughter, he shook his head slowly as he typed out a message, “man, you’re so bad at this,” he murmured.

“What makes you say that?”

Lucas pressed something on your phone with finality, scrolling up as he showed you your previous texts with Jisung. Texts like:

1:09pm - dont eat my chips get ur own - or texts like

 10:11pm - keep it down! Im trying to study -

Jisung 10:11pm -well so am I!-

“All you guys ever text each other for is to ask each other to do things, how can you expect him to like you if you’re always telling him to separate his lights and darks?”

You took the phone back from Lucas with a huff, “leave me alone. And who said anything about wanting him to like me?”

Lucas looked as though you’d just asked him an obvious question, looking almost scandalised at your denial, “really? You went from ‘oh, I don’t wanna bother Jisung at work’ and ‘oh, heehee me and Jisung ate ramen together yesterday night’ to ‘who said anything about my big fat crush on Jisung’?”

You huffed, “that’s inaccurate.”

Lucas chewed on his tapioca pearls harshly, making sure you heard the smacking sounds of his chewing to unnerve you, shaking his head at you matter-of-factly, “it’s pretty much-what’s the word, ah! Verbatim. That.”

 You rolled your eyes at him, wondering how the high-school girls sitting next to you still managed to find Lucas an absolute dreamboat despite how intentionally ridiculously he was behaving.

The truth is, Jisung wouldn’t have cared if you’d ‘bothered him during work or not’. He probably would’ve jumped at the notification of your text.

After the night before, Jisung couldn’t stop thinking about the feeling of comfort that flooded him at the thought of you. Finally getting enough inspiration to work on his song when he’d gotten home, even despite the pounding in his head and the sheer fatigue from the day that had passed.

Call him whatever you wanted, but Jisung couldn’t shake the feeling of reassurance he got with you, and it was a feeling he never thought he’d be experiencing as deeply as he did now.

From how familiar it was to hear your voice (even if it was asking him to fold the laundry), to how the smell of your perfume would awaken him on certain days, just in time for him to start his routine for the day. In small things, like how whenever he was looking for a break from work, somehow he’d find it with you.

He’d been working on his song for hours now, though he’d kept letting his gaze wander to the door in anticipation, wondering what was taking you so long to get home. He couldn’t help but wonder if you were still with Lucas, his imagination running wild with all sorts of scenarios that could have taken place to warrant you coming home so late.

Jisung brushed the thought away quickly after he found himself going to your contact on his phone, setting it down quickly as if it burned him. It was fine, you were an adult (he figured), you didn’t need him to hound you about a curfew.

Deciding to work on his lyrics for the song, he’d typed away on his laptop his ideas, his mind seeming to always gravitate to thinking of you as he read what he’d typed down.

Satisfied with the amount of work he’d gotten done for that day, Jisung had let his head lean back against the armrest of the sofa, his legs bent as he lay on his side, letting his eyes rest from all that staring at his glaringly bright computer screen.

You’d gone for a late-night movie with Lucas to end off your day, having gone home later than usual, though you didn’t mind. It wasn’t as if you had a curfew anymore.

You managed to reach your apartment as stealthily as you could, since the walls were really that thin and you didn’t want the old lady from next door to get on your back for being noisy when she was trying to sleep or whatever again.

Shoving your keys into the keyhole, you frowned when you saw that the lights in the living room were still switched on, spotting Jisung lying on the sofa with his eyes closed, his head lolling to the side as he dozed off.

Going into your room (in stealth mode, again), you’d set your things down quietly, deciding to take a shower and get ready for bed before anything else. Suddenly everything seemed to be a thousand times louder than you were used to. You were sure Jisung hadn’t been getting much quality sleep recently, so seeing him dozing off on the sofa had only made you want to ensure that his sleep continued uninterrupted.

Once you were changed into your sleepwear, you’d gone into Jisung’s room, taking a soft blanket from his cupboard and bringing it over to where he was, draping it over him till it reached his shoulders. You couldn’t help but find how peaceful he looked to be rather endearing, wishing you could do more but knowing there wasn’t much else you could do.

Jisung considered himself a good actor, because on the inside he was far from peaceful. He’d awoken at the feeling of being covered by the blanket, the back of your fingers grazing against his arm slightly.

His heart had fluttered, extremely, at the gesture, though something in him was yelling at him not to open his eyes, wanting to savour the moment for himself. It felt warm, a comfortable kind of warmth, the kind you would want to bask in for hours after being in the cold for so long. Something like a ray of sunshine.

Jisung was convinced he was going mad.

Switching on the lamp at your desk so that the living room wouldn’t be in complete darkness, you’d switched off the lights in the living room, bidding a silent goodnight to Jisung in your head before you’d gone back to your room, leaving Jisung dumbfounded.

===

“What did you say the song was called, again?” Chan had asked Jisung on Tuesday morning, looking at him with an endeared smile.

Jisung felt shy for some reason, pressing his lips together firmly as he averted his gaze from Chan, preparing his equipment as he waited for you and Lucas to arrive.

“Sunshine,” Jisung told him.

Chan huffed, his smile growing bigger, “I like that,” he hummed.

“What’s it about?” Chan asked, pulling his phone out to check for a text, “also, Lucas says they’re nearby.”

Jisung shrugged, “what’s it about?” He echoed Chan’s question, as if not knowing for himself either, something about him seeming fairly preoccupied, “it’s kind of hard to explain.”

Chan nodded in understanding, glancing at the way Jisung fiddled with the practice sketch he’d done of Y/N’s tattoo, twirling it around in his hands and anxiously glancing towards the door.

“Nervous?”

Jisung’s head shot up to look at Chan with wide eyes, “huh?…” he nodded slowly, “yeah, kind of.”

A small smile played at Chan’s lips as the boy had finished up the stencil for Lucas’ tattoo. “Is it because it’s Y/N?”

Jisung let out a nervous laugh, “yeah, duh,” he mumbled, “I mean, yeah, I’m nervous because she’s the one getting the tattoo but more like…”

Jisung shrugged, “I still don’t understand why she chose this out of all the designs I had.”

Chan raised an eyebrow, the jingling of the bells at the door followed by a loud guffaw of laughter signalling to him that the both of you had arrived.

“You should take more pride in your work,” Chan pat Jisung on the back, almost sending the boy stumbling with the sheer force behind the hit. Though Jisung couldn’t very well pay attention to the pain in his shoulder once he saw you with Lucas.

Lucas was quick to shove you towards Jisung, going over to one of the beds with Chan as they discussed the placement of the tattoo.

Jisung was almost uncharacteristically tense, leading you over to the station across from Lucas and Chan, holding the stencil up for you to see, “you’re absolutely sure you want this?”

You rolled your eyes, nodding, “yes, I’m sure.”

Jisung nodded slowly, albeit hesitantly, at you, “have you figured out where you want it?”

Lucas had perked up at that, butting into the conversation despite being across the room, “we were thinking between two places.”

Jisung hummed as he’d gone over to take the tablet containing a form for you to fill out before he got started.

You shushed Lucas quickly, accepting the tablet from Jisung with a nod of thanks, “yeah, I was thinking between here,” you gestured under your collarbone, “or here,” you gestured to your shoulder, just above your shoulder-blade.

Jisung nodded, “which do you feel more comfortable with? I think both are alright.”

“I was thinking maybe here?” You held a hand over the space under your collarbone, earning a nod from him.

“Alright,” he murmured, taking the tablet from you once you were done and quietly gesturing for you to lie down.

In your haste to get it over with, you’d almost completely forgotten about the placement of your tattoo, Jisung quirking an eyebrow at you and letting a huff of nervousness escape him.

“Sorry uh, I hope you don’t mind,” he murmured, pulling the collar of your shirt down to expose the area you’d wanted tattooed, making Lucas (who was watching intently) snicker from where he sat.

You’d felt heat creeping up to your neck, making you stretch your neck to look elsewhere, deciding to focus on the black pipes lining the ceiling, your shyness reducing your voice to a mere mumble, “yeah, sorry.”

Your nerves had built up even more with how tense Jisung was, even as he had disinfected the area and transferred what looked like a blue-ish outline of his sketch to your skin, making you almost want to writhe in your place with how nervous you were growing.

However, once you’d heard the buzzing of the tattoo gun, it was as if you were transported into your room, the familiarity of the sound making you less nervous, simply anticipating the pain that you’d associated with the tattoo to occur.

It was a wonder you hadn’t even been able to think much about the pain of the tattoo, though, because you were too busy trying to ignore Jisung’s proximity to you.

He was a stark contrast from Chan, who was making conversation with Lucas throughout the process, whereas Jisung had simply loomed over you, a tense knit to his brow and his lips pressed tightly together. Just by your expressions alone, people would have thought he was the one getting the tattoo.

This was only so because Jisung was struggling, with the smell of your perfume making him feel more awake than ever, and not to mention the pressure to make sure the tattoo turned out well that weighed heavy on him. Everything about you was so familiar, yet everything about the experience was not, and it was driving Jisung crazy with the amount of tension it was making him feel.

“Are you okay?” He asked, gauging your face for any sign that you were in too much pain.

You wanted to laugh, “This is like the fifth time you’re asking me that,” you told him.

“Can’t help it,” he told you, and you swore you saw his cheeks start to tint pink, “just wanted to make sure you were okay, you know…since it’s your first tattoo, and all.”

You nodded reassuringly, “it’s fine, just keep going.”

Jisung nodded, “I’ll be done quicker than you know it, I swear.”

You continued to distract yourself with the sight of Lucas across the room, Chan having to bring the needle back whenever Lucas couldn’t hold back his laughter.

“I’m sorry, It tickles,” you heard him tell Chan, making you have to stifle your laughter.

“Can I ask you something?” You decided that maybe talking to Jisung would help time pass faster (and less awkwardly).

“Uh-huh,” he hummed, shifting his chair slightly to get into a more comfortable position.

“How many tattoos do you have?” You asked, earning a long, reflective hum from him.

“I got a few in the time after college started, I would say about 5 or 6 now?” He shrugged, “and if you’re gonna ask me what’s their meanings…I don’t really know how to explain it, I just like the feeling they give me when I look at them.”

“I get it, it’s expression after all.”

Jisung nodded, his focus returning and making him let the conversation still. You didn’t like that, the feeling of awkwardness that returned with his silence, making you wrack your brains to find any sort of other conversation topic you could think of.

“Are you seeing anyone?” You wanted to instantly hide your face once you heard the words leave your mouth, Lucas turning to you with a wide-eyed expression.

Jisung sputtered, pulling the tattoo gun away from your skin, shaking his head at you.

“Uh, no, I’m not.” He narrowed his eyes at you, trying to regain his confidence in the situation, “why’d you wanna know?”

Now it was your turn to flush, averting your gaze, “oh, you know, just…curious, is all.”

Jisung smirked, “well, don’t go getting any ideas. I already like someone,” he told you, feeling as though he was dangling a carrot right in front of you.

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise, “really? Who?”

Jisung shrugged, “it’s a secret.”

You frowned, wanting to get back at him but not quite knowing how, deciding to go with the first thing you could think of, “well, I like someone too, you’re not special.”

Jisung hadn’t expected you to retort with that, narrowing his eyes at you, “wait, really? Is it Lucas?”

“Oh my god, no way, never.”

“Then who is it?” He met your gaze, making you stick your tongue out at him, mustering your best impersonation of him.

“It’s a secret.”

You had almost thought you were imagining things, but you noticed Jisung’s mood take a turn from there, seeming awfully pensive as he did the rest of your tattoo, the both of you having maintained a silence after your failed attempt at a proper conversation with him. He’d already begun to do the shading for your tattoo, so you figured he was really going to be done quicker than you thought.

You tried to distract yourself by glancing towards Lucas and Chan’s direction. Jisung could see you staring in their direction from the corner of his eye, wondering why your gaze kept travelling there when he was right in front of you.

“Is it Chan?” He blurted out, making your eyes go wide in shock.

Your smile grew, shaking your head, “no, definitely not.”

Jisung frowned, “who could it even be, you don’t even know that many people,” he huffed.

You sighed, trust you to fall for someone as oblivious as him.

“Do you want a clue?” You asked, earning a grunt from him.

“They’re very oblivious.”

Jisung frowned, looking as though he were contemplating, his tissue going over your tattoo slower as he thought. His mouth formed an ‘o’ shape in realisation, a gasp leaving him.

“No way, it’s not that Felix kid from your department, is it?” He looked as though he was hoping you would say no.

You fought to suppress the urge to roll your eyes, yet not realising you were smiling at him, “no, it’s not him.”

Jisung sighed, “oh, good. I know I always say I’m the best looking but he’s a lot better looking than I am, don’t tell him I said that.”

“Good?” You questioned, wondering why he seemed so relieved that all his options had turned out to be false. Jisung had realised he may have made things a little too obvious, shaking his head vigorously.

“Nothing, you’re all done, forget I said anything.”

He pushed himself away from you, his chair swivelling far back as he tried to calm the racing of his heart as you sat up and stretched, your body tired from being in the same position for so long.

“What time is it?” You asked, earning a grunt from Jisung, not knowing either.

Chan had chimed in from the other side, having been done with Lucas’ tattoo way before yours.

“It’s 4:24,” he told you. Jisung had been busy putting an adhesive bandage over your tattoo to pay attention to your reaction.

You spent 4 hours lying there and you only got like what, two conversations with Jisung? This was a new low, even for you.

 You were snapped out of your disappointment when Jisung had spoken.

“Uh… yeah keep this on for like three to four days?” He gestured to the bandage, your breath hitching as he hiked the collar of your shirt up so it wasn’t still dropping off your shoulder.

“You can still shower and everything so yeah…” he told you, reciting from memory after having been told this a thousand times by Chan.

You tried your best to pay attention, though you knew you’d probably forget by the time you were home, making him stand up mid-speech and walk over to the counter, pulling out a little brochure to hand you.

“Honestly, just read this, it has everything you need to know inside,” he told you, walking away briskly to compose himself at his station.

You’d made your payment to Chan at the counter, Jisung having pretended to be busy with cleaning up, making Chan flash you an amused smile.

“What?”

He shook his head, dimples appearing as he gave you your receipt, “You two are just too cute,” he huffed, earning a loud hum of approval from Lucas.

“Aren’t they?” The tall boy chimed in, making you scoff.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, bye,” you waved, seeing Jisung turn around to give you a wide smile before turning back around, practically collapsing onto the bed once you and Lucas were gone.

“Those were the most excruciating 4 hours of my life.”

Chan’s laughter could be heard as he made his way over to Jisung, giving him a pat on the back, “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad, was it?”

Jisung let out a loud groan, “we were like this close!” Jisung brought his hand in front of his face for emphasis as he whined to Chan, “and I couldn’t focus at all I was so scared I was gonna screw up her tattoo because I kept zoning out,” he rambled, feeling as though his knees were about to buckle.

Chan shook his head with a feigned look of sympathy, looking at Jisung as though Jisung were his son, “I’m glad you’re feeling stressed.”

Jisung scoffed, shrugging Chan’s hand off of his shoulder and glaring at his mentor with a look of disbelief, “you’re glad? Aren’t you supposed to be feeling some sympathy for me? That’s sick, I can’t believe you.”

Chan wasn’t surprised at Jisung’s dramatic reaction, simply laughing as he shrugged.

“I’m glad because if you’re stressed, you’re gonna be pushed to do something about it soon. And then I can stop hearing you stress about it and just see the both of you together, instead.”

Jisung shot Chan a dirty look, “you’re mean, old man.”

Chan scoffed, “at least I’m not stupid in love.”

===

Jisung had been keeping himself fairly busy since then, the both of you having been busy with your own plans since the semester break had started. However, the both of you had somehow managed to enjoy suppers together, bonding over a (rather unhealthy) meal of snacks or instant food whenever it was late in the night and the both of you didn’t want to go to sleep just yet.

And speaking of sleep, you’d also noticed how Jisung had started to look brighter these days, seeming to have been overcoming that period of lethargy he was previously in.

Now, the brightness was heard in the songs he hummed, in how he smiled and laughed more whenever you were together. Even in how he'd started growing more comfortable with sleeping in the dark. You weren’t sure what exactly sparked this change in him, but whatever it was, you were glad it happened, yourself seeming to be all the more enamoured with this version of Jisung that had grown on you.

You’d planned with Jisung to have a day of celebration (or a pity party) once he’d submitted his song to Chan’s music producer friend.

Since you had work that day, you’d wanted to get up early to prepare breakfast for him, but you didn’t realise how late you were until you woke up and found that he had already left.

Making your way over to the kitchen to find some food for yourself after you’d gotten ready for work, you yanked open the door for the fridge, expecting to be met with all of Jisung’s snacks and cans of drinks that still had their post-its on them.

However, as you were scanning the fridge to see if you had anything you could eat, you spotted a different coloured post-it on a bundle of juice packets, peeling the post-it off of the packaging to inspect it.

‘y/n, I heard these are great to start the morning with, try them for me?’

You couldn’t help but smile, a hand coming up to your face to attempt to slap away the heat you felt in your cheeks, pulling out a packet of juice anyway.

You were starting to think the juice did have some sort of magical properties in them, because when you got to work, you’d been on drink duty, which was your favourite to do. Well, technically, anything other than cashier duty was your favourite but who’s keeping track here?

You knew Jisung's meeting with the producer was around the afternoon, so when Chan had shown up at the café alone, you didn't question it.

Now you were really glad you weren't on cashier duty today, giving your colleague more time to talk to Chan while he ordered.

"One strawberry smoothie for Chan?" you called to get his attention, seeing him stroll over to the pick-up point with a smile on his face.

"Sorry, Jisung's not here," he teased, sighing wistfully.

You scoffed, "yeah, yeah. I know where he is.”

“How’s the tattoo healing?” He asked, making your hand go up to your shoulder unconsciously, “It’s alright, looks really pretty now that it’s all healed.”

Chan gave you a thumbs up, opening the lid of his drink as he took a sip, your curiosity getting the better of you.

“Is he meeting your friend now?"

Chan’s eyebrows raised in confusion, “who?..oh,” he nodded in realisation, “yeah, just went to meet him. Honestly, if you asked me, he didn’t seem as excited about the meeting as he was to meet you for dinner.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “don’t put ideas into my head, old man.”

Chan simply gave you a shrug, “I’m not that old, you know,” he brought his drink up to his lips to take a sip, “and they’re only ideas if you’re in denial.”

You groaned, “go, begone, leave me alone.”

Chan giggled, nodding as his hand went up in surrender, “fine, I’m going. Have a good dinner later, Y/N,” he sing-songed.

Curse Chan for putting the thought into your head, now you couldn’t stop thinking about dinner.

Your shift only ended at 5:30, so that gave you just about enough time to go get groceries while Jisung prepared the things for your hotpot at home.

Deciding you would do what you were called to do, which in this case, meant to send Jisung a text wishing him the best of luck, you did as such.

2:31pm - hey, all the best for your meeting with the producer man!!-

Jisung’s reply had come quickly,

han jisung 2:32pm - thanks :( im waiting to see him now, I didn’t know there was gonna be a whole queue -

Setting your phone aside, you’d tried not to let yourself get too anxious while you waited for him to update you, busying yourself with washing dishes and even serving tables out of your sheer boredom due to the crowd starting to disperse at this time.

You waited, and you waited, you waited until the word ‘waiting’ itself felt weird to say in your head. You should’ve known better to have expected Jisung to update you over text, only receiving a text in the evening that read

han jisung 5:23pm - hey…i just finished meeting him…see u at the apartment?-

You’d texted him back, not knowing what to make of his text.

5:23pm - is that a good hey or a bad hey? -

Jisung hadn’t answered your question, his next text coming as more of a source of confusion for you.

han jisung 5:24pm - ill tell u in person -

“What happened? Is it Jisung?” Your colleague seemed to have sensed your inner turmoil, looking at you with concern etched in her features.

“Yeah, he told me he was done meeting the producer person…but he didn’t wanna tell me how it went,” you frowned, seeing your colleague hum in confusion.

“D’you think it didn’t go well?” She asked, mirroring your expression of uncertainty.

You typed out your reply to Jisung as you shrugged, “I don’t know, I’m hoping he’s just messing with me.”

5:26pm - my shift ends in like 4 minutes… I’ll go and get the groceries before I get back -

han jisung 5:26pm - okay, ill be waiting -

“All the best, then?” Your co-worker offered, giving you a look of sympathy.

“You too, enjoy the rest of your shift,” you returned her expression, sighing as you removed your apron, grabbing your bag from the back room before you left.

You’d tried your best to be quick in getting your groceries, making sure you’d gotten everything Jisung had told you to, your footsteps quick as you briskly walked to your apartment building.

Not knowing if it was because you hadn’t eaten in hours or if it was because you were just excited, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement in you, not so much because you were excited to hear how Jisung’s meeting went but more of because you were excited that you were going to see Jisung soon.

Finally reaching your apartment, you’d pushed the door open to spot Jisung coming out from his room, a towel on his head as he rubbed at his freshly-washed hair.

“Hey,” you breathed, a hint of a smile on your face, scanning his face for an expression as he glanced at you, his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose cutely.

Jisung had a whole plan for how he was going to surprise you with the news, he wanted to wait until the food was ready and when the both of you were seated across each other in the living room, wait for you to ask him about how the meeting went so that he could pretend to be upset about it.

And just like he’d seen in the romantic movie Chan was playing in the studio the other day, he would wait till you showed concern to give you a smile and tell you the good news, already being able to imagine the smile you would give him in celebration.

But seeing how you looked, a little bit breathless from rushing, carrying groceries in your hands as you looked at him with a smile that spelled nothing but relief, Jisung couldn’t help himself.

“He offered me a job,” Jisung confessed, his grip tight on his towel as he let his hand fall limp to his side, any perfect, fool-proof plan of copying the romance movie now long gone.

Your eyes widened, setting the groceries on the counter as you cheered, “oh my god, that’s great! I’m really happy for you!” You cheered, practically running towards him before stopping yourself halfway, realising you were almost about to hug him.

Jisung noticed you stop too, tilting his head at you as his hands had already begun to raise to welcome you into a hug, hesitating once he’d seen you stop.

“Sorry,” you huffed, shoving your hands into your pockets, taking a step back to create some distance between the both of you.

Jisung smiled, shaking his head, “don’t be.” Shocking you with his confidence, he’d taken a step closer to you, his arms going around your shoulders as he pulled you towards him, his head leaning against yours gently as one of his hands went up to pet your head gently.

“You really helped me through it, believe it or not.”

Your eyes widened, trying not to get too carried away with the way his hold felt too comforting for you to pull away, thankful that he’d let go first, his hands coming up to grasp your shoulders.

“You hungry? The soup’s almost done.”

You nodded, “can I uh…take a shower first? I’ll be quick I promise.”

You didn’t wait for him to reply before you’d escaped to the bathroom, too focused on showering quickly that you’d almost forgotten about the hug. Keyword, almost.

Once you’d changed into a comfortable shirt and shorts, you’d practically jogged over to the kitchen, seeing that Jisung had already taken out the ingredients to thaw the meat and prepare the veggies.

“Wow, who are you and what have you done with Jisung?”

Jisung turned around at your voice, rolling his eyes at your statement, flicking the water from the veggies at you as you dodged, “figured I’d do something while waiting, you know, make myself useful.”

You huffed, a smile on your face as you gestured for him to continue, “well, don’t let me stop you.”

“So how did the interview go?” You asked, watching intently as he brought the platefuls of ingredients to the coffee table, stopping you when you’d moved to help him get the pot of soup.

“It’s okay, you go sit down, I’ll do it.”

You couldn’t help the impressed pout from your lips, not wanting to let on that the gesture had made your heart flutter.

Once all the food was on the table, Jisung had taken a seat next to you, the both of you starting to throw your ingredients into the soup, Jisung turning to you looking as though he’d wanted to say something.

“What was I saying before? Oh, right,” he nodded, “I didn’t expect him to be so intimidating, I nearly pissed myself when I walked into the room.”

You’d burst into laughter, Jisung laughing along with you, “I’m not even joking. Chan gave me a completely different description of what he would be like.”

You’d tried your best to calm down from your laughter quickly, seeing him take a piece of food from the pot and place it into your bowl wordlessly, choosing to ignore the gesture for the sake of your heart.

“But I’m assuming he’s not that bad? Since he offered you the job?”

Jisung let out a sigh, “yeah, thank god he did, I was a stuttering mess. Even Iwouldn’t have hired myself.”

You let out a chuckle, “you’re lucky he judged you based on the song, then,” you teased, earning a harmless glare from him.

You’d scooped some food into your mouth, looking up at him to see that he’d already had his cheeks full of food, nodding at you expectantly.

“So does this mean you’re gonna work on that producer guy’s team?” You asked, earning a nod from him as he swallowed his mouthful of food with a wince.

“Yeah, he said I could intern at his company in the holidays and if everything goes well he’ll give me a contract once I graduate.”

You let out a low whistle, “wow, imagine all the exposure you’d get there…all the different types of genres and artists you’d be exposed to,” you marvelled, Jisung finding it amusing how you seemed more excited about it than he was.

You perked up in realisation, “speaking of which…I realised you’d never let me listen to the song yet.”

Jisung flushed, shaking his head, “did I? I swear I did,” he lied, making you shove him, a smile showing on his face as you did, nodding in surrender as he grabbed his phone from the coffee table.

“What’s it called?” You asked, seeing him nudge his glasses up with his knuckle, shaking his head to flick his hair from his eyes.

“Sunshine,” he told you quickly, not wasting anymore time and playing the song.

As he started to play the song, you were surprised at the light sounding melody the song had started with, the sounds of the city that he’d put inside, the feeling that you were…at home?

“Don’t look at me when you’re listening to it, I’m shy,” he brought a hand up to cover your face, making you yelp, your hands coming up to grab his wrist, pulling it away slowly as you grew more focused on the song, recognising his voice as he sang.

It wasn’t a love song, thankfully, you realised. You realised that the song revolved around a certain feeling of calm, with themes of getting away from the busy nature of your life and taking time for yourself, something you realised you and him both kind of needed.

You listened until the song had ended, looking at him with a big smile on your face, a smile that made Jisung want to cover your face in fear that it would make his heart burst with how giddy he felt.

“I love this,” you told him, “can you send it to me?”

Jisung scoffed, “no way, how do I know you’re not gonna sell it before I can get it copyrighted?” he huffed, leaning forward and resting his elbow on the table to support his head on his palm.

“I’m really impressed, how’d you get the inspiration to do this?”

Jisung shrugged, “my own life I guess, and the people that helped me get through that weird period of creative block that I was in,” he murmured.

You nodded, “well, whoever they are, you should thank them for me.”

Jisung nodded, facing the television as he contemplated in his heart whether to do what he wanted to do, turning to you with a small smile on his face, he nodded slowly.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

Your eyes widened, not knowing what to make of his words. The song had started to repeat.

Jisung had shook his head, “I’m not just saying this because I like you or whatever—” he stopped himself with a small curse, “shit, that was not how I planned on telling you. Whatever, as I was saying…” he trailed off, his gaze landing on your tattoo, the neck of your shirt having started to slip off your shoulder slightly.

“Honestly, I really hated that drawing,” he told you, your gaze following his to look at your tattoo, looking back at him with raised eyebrows.

“This? Why? But it’s so pretty,” you insisted.

Jisung shook his head.

“It was my first design, and I wasn’t…you know, I just didn’t think it was that impressive, and all. Chan had told me to keep it in my portfolio but I was really close to just removing it.”

His gaze shifted to anywhere except your face, distracting himself by looking at the various things in the house, his gaze landing on the rainbow-coloured umbrella at the door.

Jisung sighed, shifting in his seat so he was leaning against the sofa now, his body angled towards you, making you unconsciously shift your body to face him as well, your breath hitching in anticipation for what he was about to say next.

“But then, you said you wanted it tattooed, and I honestly didn’t want you to get it but I had no choice, you know, blah blah customer’s preference first and all that bullshit,” he waved his hand for emphasis, “but then after I saw you with the tattoo more, I guess my perspective started to change? I mean, like, you kept insisting that it was so beautiful and all that..you know, seeing you with it kind of started to grow on me.”

Jisung paused, his gaze on a corner of the coffee table as he tried to find the right words to express how he was feeling, shrugging at you and just deciding to say whatever was at the top of his head and work from there.

“I guess it kind of made me love my work more, and like, trust myself, you know… because I realised how beautiful it could be.”

You looked at him wordlessly, your heart picking up speed at the tension in the room, something in you urging you to stand up, making you get up on your feet with no aim in mind.

So as not to look like a complete fool, your hands flew up to hug your arms, “oh, it’s a little um, chilly. Be right back,” you sprinted to your room, reaching in your cupboard for your hoodie and putting it on without a second thought, too preoccupied to notice how it stopped at your thighs and how the sleeves bunched up more.

Returning to the coffee table, you’d almost regretted your decision to put on the hoodie, feeling utterly warm from how flustered you were, especially with the way Jisung was looking at you with a hint of a smirk playing at his lips.

“Sorry,” you murmured, averting your gaze as you tilted your head down, not expecting Jisung to tilt his head down as well so he could search for your gaze, making you scrunch your eyes shut, wrinkling your nose as you let out a huff of laughter.

“You can reject me, you know. I remember you said you already liked someone,” he told you, and Jisung meant it, not wanting anything but to make sure you were okay, and happy.

You shook your head, “I don’t want to,” you murmured, finally daring yourself to meet his gaze, your heart skipping a beat when you saw the way Jisung had smiled.

“I can’t say I’m not happy to hear that,” he told you.

Jisung had brought his hand up, lazily removing his glasses and looking at you finally, since now the other things in the house weren’t as clear in his vision, all that was important being that you were right in front of him, and he could see you clearer than anything.

“Why’d you take your glasses off?” You murmured, seeing him shrug, giving you a lazy smile.

“What? You scared I didn’t wanna see your face?” He teased, the flush on your cheeks making him give in almost immediately, “I’m kidding. I just didn’t feel like being distracted anymore.”

Maybe it was the atmosphere of the living room, or the lingering feelings the song had left in you, maybe it was even the way you felt like you were finally getting what you were waiting for.

Whatever it was, there was an overwhelming feeling of giddiness in you, especially with the way Jisung’s gaze had flickered between your lips and your gaze, and yet he’d made no move to lean closer to you, as if he was expecting you to move first.

Leaning closer, you’d let yourself glance down, getting distracted by the stain of black ink on the sleeve of your hoodie, only realising then that it wasn’t your hoodie.

“Shit, sorry I’m wearing yours by mistake again, it must’ve gotten mixed up,” you murmured, knowing it wasn’t your week to do laundry duty.

Jisung stopped you before you could stand up, pulling your hand forward so the only thing stopping you from losing your balance was his grip on your arm.

“I never thought I’d be saying this but, you can wear it.”

You’d sworn if your heart were any weaker, you wouldn’t have been able to last this long, Jisung seeming almost teasing with the way he’d inched closer at a painfully slow pace, so his lips were barely touching yours.

Just before he could pull back, you’d groaned in frustration, bringing your free hand up to cup the side of his jaw, meeting your lips with his.

And there it was again, the feeling of relief that washed over, knowing that this was very much happening, and that you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Jisung pulled away first, his pupils blown and his eyes giving away his surprise, huffing at you and folding his arms, increasing the distance between you.

“I’m only realising this now, what do you mean I’m oblivious?”

You rolled your eyes, “I’ll explain it again later, I swear.”

Jisung huffed, more dramatic this time, making sure you sensed his sulkiness (as feigned as it was), looking at you with a pout on his lips, “give me a kiss and I’ll forgive you.”

He puckered his lips, making you roll your eyes, though you didn’t hesitate to cup his face again, pressing your lips against his as your thumb brushed over his cheek gently, pulling away before he would’ve wanted. You couldn’t help yourself from laughing at the way he’d leaned forward, chasing your lips, frowning at you with a soft sigh when you’d straightened up.

“Can we eat now? The meat’s getting overcooked.”

===

lucas 11:30pm - dude I told u it would work if you smiled at him more cant believe u didnt believe me smh -

1K notes · View notes

det-loki · 3 years

Text

poison & wine part five

Oh, you let your feet run wild Time has come as we all oh, go down

warnings: angst, mention of harm to a dog, cussing, kidnap/drug/alcoholism mention

pairing: detective loki x fem reader

word count: 3,554

A/N: feedback is welcomed! let me know what you think and if you want more!

1 2 3 4 ⌽ 6

You stared blankly at the ground in Captain O’Malley’s office as Loki was talking to him angrily.

David was pissed.

Arriving at the station this morning, you found out Alex had been missing after calling Holly about a dog that had been hit after Alex took it for a walk and never came back. You leaned against the wall lazily, observing the conversation between David and O’Malley.

The dog collar had been thrown onto the captain's desk, Loki gesturing to it, “Holly Jones’ dog got hit on Southward Street. Apparently, Alex Jones took the dog for a walk the night before last, they never came home. And his aunt didn’t want to tell us about the dog when we called her about it this morning. She said she thought it would get him into trouble or some shit. I thought you said you would keep him under surveillance.”

O’Malley picked the collar up, “Yeah, and I thought you said the guy was innocent. And I thought the guy from last night you said was our guy. Look, I don’t have money in the budget for watching innocent people.”

Loki pointed at him, “You said to me that you’d put him under surveillance.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“You gonna keep your word? You could have just given me or Y/N a call because we would have been there all night, I would have stayed up all night. I would know where he was now. I need to know where everybody is.” Loki was at his wit’s end, no one was listening to anything he or you said.

O’Malley looked defeated, “All right, point made. All right? Point made.”

Loki’s voice was harsh, “If you can be clear with me, then I’ll be clear with you. I need to know where everybody is. If you’re going to do something different, please tell me.”

Loki walked out of the room, O’Malley turning to you with his eyebrows raised, “You have anything you wanna yell at me about too?”

You shrugged, irritated, “He’s not wrong, captain. All you had to do was give either of us a call and we wouldn’t be in this situation. That’s all you had to do.”

O’Malley threw up his arms, “Look, I get it all right? I fucked up. But it’s day five, your window is closing. You need to start preparing yourselves for the worst,”

Your body filled with rage, your fuse was blown, “Captain, you don’t ever speak to me like that again, you hear me? You can be upset with me all you want, but you ever call my ability to my job into question again, I will make your life hell. Day five means nothing. You have no idea what David and I are going through with this case, okay? Go fuck yourself.” You walked out of the room before he could respond, you needed to find David to make sure he hadn’t punched a hole in the wall.

You found David in the interrogation viewing room as he wound, rewound, and wound the tapes of Alex’s interrogation over and over, obsessively looking for something he may have missed. You walked deeper into the room without a word and sat next to him as he pressed play on the video. Ripping at the seams, crumbling.

A secretary you didn’t really know the name of came into the room, interrupting Loki’s obsessive behavior, “Loki, you got a call.” Loki rolled his eyes and huffed, hand coming up to his face to clutch his eyes before he stood rigidly, the silhouette of his body creating harsh lines filled with tension.

You remained in the viewing room as Loki went to take the call as you read over the notes he had scrawled on the yellow notebook paper.

RV?

Kidnapped with help?

Drugged…like her? M-

You stopped reading after that.

Loki came back into the room, pulling you out of your thoughts before they got too deep and pulled you under, “Hey, we gotta go.”

You stood in the local Value Mall, speaking to a young female employee, Jill, who had called about the man who fled from Loki last night.

“I called as soon as I saw the sketch on TV. He comes in here every week almost and buys kids’ clothes, but he’s always buying stuff in different sizes. Caught him messing around with the mannequins once.” Gross.

“What did he pay with?” You were silently hoping she said card, finally giving you something to work with.

“Cash.” Behind you, you could hear Loki mutter ‘fuck.’

You pull your business card out of your pocket with your name and number on it and hand it to the girl, “All right, you give me a call if you hear anything.” You turn to Loki who was still rifling through clothing racks, lost in thought, snapping your fingers, “Loki, card.” He turned around and handed the girl his card as well, now she had both your numbers.

You walked out of the store and looked up at the gray sky, taking a moment to yourself and to take in your surroundings. Loki stopped a few feet in front of you, looking back at you with a quizzical look. You didn’t say anything, only bringing your hand above your head and crossing them, taking a deep breath. You dropped your arms and continued walking towards the car while David remained standing confused in the same spot. Even in times like this, he admired your ability to stop and take notice of the world around you. Even a gray sky meant something to you.

The rest of the day was spent staring at a computer screen, researching anything you could get your hands on about Barry Milland. It was basically a dead end. Your cell phone buzzed in your pocket, grabbing it to see Dover’s called ID. It was 2 A.M.

“Hello?”

Ralph Dover, son of Keller and Grace was on the other end, “Hi, uh, my mom is kind of freaking out right now. She’s saying someone broke in, she thinks it’s Anna but no one is here.” He sounded nervous and tired. Poor kid.

“Okay, Ralph, we’ll be right there.”

Grace Dover was a wreck. You stood across from her, listening to her recount what she claimed happened.

“And she wasn’t here. And I...I came in here and the window was open. And- and it wasn’t open before, And the...and then Ralph, he- he came in. And he looked and- and uhm- .” Loki walked to the closed window, brushing the sheer curtain back to look as Ralph floated nervously in the hallway. Your eyes remained Grace, her eyes bloodshot and heavy as she watched Loki. “-And then I don’t know. Aren’t you gonna write this down?” Loki looked past her at you as he took out his notebook from his inner breast coat pocket to appease her.

Grace let out an exhale, “The basement. I didn’t check the basement. We need to check the basement. I’ll show you. I’ll show you.” Loki looked towards the bedside table covered in prescription medication for Grace’s anxiety since the abduction. He had experienced the same thing with you, a prescription being the only thing to get you to sleep months after the accident. He knew Grace wasn’t in the right mind, but he went along with it anyway. She walked out of the room frantically, brushing past an obviously distraught Ralph. Loki followed her out as you caught his elbow, “I’m going to stay up here with Ralph.” Loki nodded as he continued to follow Grace.

“Hey, Ralph. Is it okay if I talk with you for a second?’

Ralph shrugged, “I guess.”

“Has your mom been sleeping much lately? At least that you know of?”

He shrugged again, eyebrows furrowing, “I mean, not really. When she does it’s because dad makes her take the medicine the doctor gave her. When she isn’t sleeping, she’s crying.”

You nodded along, “And you? Are you doing okay?”

“Not really.” He stopped talking when he saw his mother reappear in the hallway, Loki behind her. The look on David’s face concerned you.

David slammed the driver’s door shut as he got in the car. He breathed heavily as he slid a hand over his face in frustration, “Grace said Keller was out with the search party, but you and I both know he’s not. And now Alex is missing. There's half a bag of lye in Keller's basement along with shelves of doomsday shit, something is up.”

“You think Keller had something to do with it, don’t you?” You wouldn’t be surprised, very few things shocked you anymore.

Loki didn’t say anything, only turning the keys in the ignition and driving home in silence.

It was raining as you sat in the Crown Vic alongside Loki. You watched the water droplets fall down the window, collecting at the bottom. Stupid fucking rain.

Today you were trailing Keller Dover to see where he went when he claimed he was searching for his daughter when he wasn’t. You watched with tired eyes as Keller pulled out of his driveway while Loki turned the car on and followed.

Loki pulled up to a light, Keller had pulled into a liquor store across town on the corner of Wallace and Campello Street. Except when Keller got out of his truck, he didn’t walk into the store, he walked towards an old building across from the liquor store. What are you doing?

Behind you, a trash truck pulled up and laid on it’s horn signaling the light was green. Loki didn’t move, his eyes were still on Keller who had now turned around at the sound of the horn. Loki was agitated, telling the truck to go around so as to not blow your cover. Keller turned around and started walking towards you and into the liquor store. Loki pulled into a vacant lot across from the liquor store, “Fuck.”

Loki turned off the car and rubbed his hands together to create some sort of warmth, still refusing gloves as he reached on the dash to grab his coffee beans, popping a few in his mouth. At least some things never changed. The rain continued to pour down outside, each drop hitting the window added to the memory of the night of your little girl’s death. It had stormed that night, worse than anyone had seen in Pennsylvania in a long time. Your hatred of rain was deeply rooted.

“Come on, Mr. Dover.” You heard Loki mutter to himself as you brought your legs underneath you in the seat. Might as well get comfortable while you waited. You look out of the rain covered windshield to see Keller approaching quickly with his hood up, popping open the liquor bottle he had in a brown paper bag and taking a long swig.

He stood at Loki's window that had been rolled down, leaning at the waist as he spoke, “Why are you following me?”

“Get in the car.” Loki demanded; Keller opening the rear passenger side door and sitting down, you and David turning to look at him. He looked even more tired than when you saw him last. His eyes were different though, changing from a scared father to a godless and angry man.

Keller asked the question again, “Why are you following me?”

Loki looks him over before speaking, “Where were you going just now?”

Keller took a deep breath, “I parked at a liquor store.” He held up his bottle of liquor he had taken a drink from previously, “-I have a bottle of liquor. You’re the shit-hot detective. Work it out.” He took another drink from the bottle, the stench of whiskey filling the car. You wanted to puke, it reminded you too much of your drunk of a so called father.

“I actually meant before that. You were walking in the opposite direction across the parking lot. Towards Campello Street.”

Keller took another drink before answering Loki, “Yeah, well...I haven’t had a drink in nine-and-a-half years. I figured if I walked around the parking lot for a while, by the time they opened, I’d stop wanting it that bad. And then-then I saw you two. Sorta helped me make up my mind.” He seemed to have an explanation for everything.

There was a long pause before David broke the uncomfortable silence, “There’s a bag of lye in your basement that’s half empty. Your wife thinks you’ve been helpin’ us...but we all know that’s not true.” Loki turned to look at Keller who was staring at him.

“I used the lye to bury our dog last year. And ‘helping the cops’ sounds better than ‘I’ve been driving aimlessly in my truck ‘cause I don’t know what else to do.’” He really did have an explanation for everything.

Loki questioned him, “Is that what you were doing last Saturday night?”

“Probably. Am I a suspect?”

Loki’s voice went up as he spoke, “No, I’m only asking- I’m only asking ‘cause you assaulted a man who’s now missing.”

Keller looked away briefly, his eyes moving to the yellowing bruise on your jaw before turning back to David, “I heard about that. What happened to him? I thought you had him under surveillance.”

“I’m gonna assume you’re asking me because you have no idea.”

Keller shook his head, “Well, I didn’t think it was something I could get away with.”

Loki deadpanned, “It’s not.”

“Yeah, well. It couldn’t be that he skipped town ‘cause the asshole is guilty. Couldn’t be that, right? ‘Cause that would mean it would be your fault, right?”

“Mr. Dover?” Loki looked at Keller with an intense gaze as Keller’s defense began to crumble in front of you.

“What?” Keller snapped.

“You need to take care of yourself and your wife. That’s the best thing you can do right now. That little girl is gonna need you when she comes home.”

Keller took in a shaky inhale, “Kids gone longer than a week have half as good a chance of being found, and after a month, almost none are. Not alive. All right? So forgive me for doing everything I can-”

Keller struck a nerve in Loki, his finger now in his face, yelling, “You know what? It hasn’t been a fucking week!”

The energy shifted in the car quickly as Keller lunged furiously over the center console, yelling, “You’re right. It’s day fucking six! Day six!” His voice broke as he continued to yell, David blinking harshly beside you, “-And every day she’s wondering why I’m not there to fucking rescue her!” David attempted to calm Keller down as he furiously pointed to himself, “All right. Do you understand that? Me! Not you! Not you! But me! Every day! So forgive me for not going home to have a good night’s rest!” Keller pounded on the center console with his fist, shaking yours and Loki’s seats, “Now, why don’t you look for my fucking daughter rather than fighting-”

Loki interrupted him as Keller began to get emotional, tears welling up in his eyes. Your back was pressed against the dashboard as to put as much space between you and Keller as you could as he spoke, “Don’t follow me.”

Loki held his hand in the air in a calming gesture, “Hey. Hey. Mr. Dover, Mr. Dover.” A long pause occurred before Keller reached for the door handle, stopping as Loki called after him, “You don’t think we’re gonna let you get behind the wheel after you’ve been drinking do you?”

“I’m gonna walk. You look for my daughter.” You sighed in relief as Keller left the car, sinking back into your seat as Loki huffed beside you, eyes blinking harshly as he watched Keller walk away in the rain. Loki ran his hand over his face and jaw, lost in thought as he watched the rain fall.

You crawled into bed alone that night. Loki stayed at the station, reading reports, telling you to go home and sleep. You couldn’t sleep however, for it was still raining outside and you never slept well without David. The sound of the rain outside made you furious, slapping a pillow over your head and squeezing your eyes shut. Somehow, sleep found you, pulling you under by your ankles.

You trudged into the station the next day to find Loki still at his desk where you left him, intently reading his computer screen. When he saw you he motioned for you to come over. He read you whatever he had been so enthralled in, “I looked into the old apartment building Keller was walking towards yesterday, it used to be his father’s. He committed suicide there, Keller and his mother found his body. I think it’s worth checking out.”

The car ride over was quick, Loki driving faster than necessary, he was obviously eager to have a lead in the case that had so far been working against you. You took notice of Keller’s truck in the liquor store parking lot as Loki parked the car. You stepped out of the car, your black boot landing on the slushy ground as the car dinged as Loki got out. The building was old, windows boarded up and looking to be on the brink of collapsing.

Loki inspected the boarded window for a way in, settling on ripping off the plywood. It fell on the ground at your feet as you whipped out your flashlight and looked inside the building. Loki climbed in first and turned for you to join him. You weren’t really up for climbing today but did it anyways, jumping down from the window as Loki’s hand found your hip, steadying you.

You turned around with your flashlight, taking in your surroundings. It was falling apart. Dirty and musty, obviously not being taken care of very well. You and Loki walked through the doorway into another room looking the same as the last except this time you found Keller Dover lying on the ground surrounded by empty whiskey bottles.

Loki tapped him with his foot as he jerked away, squinting up at him through the fluorescence of the flashlight as he spoke, “Hey, rise and shine.”

Loki walked deeper into the room. “I’m not gonna find two girls here, am I?”

You stood in front of Keller who was still laying on the ground, taking in Loki’s words, “Fuck you.”

You looked down at Keller as he moved to sit up, “What about Alex Jones?” You obviously weren't expecting an honest answer, but was curious to see what he would say.

Keller looked at the ground, avoiding your questioning gaze, “What about him? I came here to drink. I don’t want to drink in front of my wife.”

Moving away from Keller you looked around the room as he spoke, “Look, my father left me this building, all right?”

Loki spoke across the room, looking at something you couldn’t see, “You mind giving us a tour?”

Keller stood and put on his coat, glaring at Loki as he walked by with you trailing up the staircase you had come to.

Loki spoke in front of you to Keller, “Why didn’t you tell us about this place?”

Keller huffed, “I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Everything matters.”

The three of you walked into another room filled with old materials and tools, “It’s all pretty much like this.” You couldn’t help but feel like Keller was hiding something, wanting you and David to leave as soon as possible.

“I’m gonna renovate soon.”

Loki nodded in agreement, “Yeah, not as organized as your basement, huh? What’s up with all the survivor gear in there?”

“Pray for the best, prepare for the worst.” Keller’s statement caused O’Malley’s words to hit you in the face, ‘you need to start preparing for the worst.’

Loki spoke ahead of you, “Guess we agree there, yeah?”

Keller led you through door after door, each room looking exactly the same as the last. Loki was getting impatient, as were you. You felt like you were being led through a maze.

As you walked through another door, just like the same, you noticed Keller pause. Loki was across the room with his back turned, missing Keller’s sudden odd behavior. He stood in front of a hallway you hadn’t been down yet, acting as if he were guardian something. He followed Loki’s every move with skeptical eyes, completely missing your own skeptical gaze on him. He was hiding something.

As Loki walked further away, his phone rang in his pocket. He picked it up, speaking to whoever was on the other line. As Loki walked further down the hallway, you could see the color drain from Mr. Dover’s face. What was down there?

Loki reappeared from the hallway running, nodding for you to follow with his notebook in hand. Obviously he had something for the case, you ran out after him, yelling at Keller to go home. You prayed it was something to help those two girls get home. You couldn’t handle anymore let down, your luck was running out fast.

Yet you had no idea what was to come, oblivious to the fact that your world would shatter around you and David soon.

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123 notes · View notes

chibi-mushroom · 3 years

Text

Hey everyone! Finally get to post my piece for the memory of promises zine! check out the link here if you want to grab one of your own copies in the leftover sale! I was so happy to be able to join in on this zine, and I hope you guys enjoy all the work that went into it! (Also keep in mind this was written before MoM.)

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Namine rubbed her temples and looked at the clock. Midnight already. DiZ was not going to like this. The next time he came into the white room would bring on some lecture or punishment of some kind. She had been working furiously all afternoon trying to get past this one section of memory, but there was something that was keeping her back. Her pulse began to race. She was feeling sick. The door to the white room opened and with a squeak, Namine ducked under the table, fearing the familiar stride of the man in red.

"It's okay, it's just me. You can come out now." A soft voice sounded in her ears. "You're safe. DiZ said he needed to run an errand and wouldn't be back for a couple of days."

Slowly looking up, Namine could see the outstretched hand of the only comfort she had in this lonely place. "Riku. You're back."

She took his offering and stood up. He hadn't let go of her hand just yet, blindfold still covering those beautiful blue green eyes he had. She was glad it stopped him from seeing things like her girlish blush. He was only offering his hand as a friend. Besides, it was wrong for her to want to be with him- nobodies weren't supposed to feel anything. So why did she?

"You're shaking." Riku stated simply. "Have you eaten anything today?"

So he could even feel the slight tremor in her hands. "No, not exactly."

"Do you want me to get something for you? I think there are some leftovers in the fridge."

"No, I'm alright. I have to get back to work." Namine tried to take her hand from his, but he held onto it all the tighter, leaning down a little to be at eye level with her.

"You were working when I left, and I can tell you haven't gotten any sleep. How are you expecting to take care of Sora when you can't take care of yourself?"

Right. Namine thought. He's just like DiZ. All he cares about is getting Sora restored. You're just a tool.

Still, she couldn't help but notice the way her breath caught in her throat as his blinded eyes sunk to meet her tired ones. Maybe she should take a small break. All of this stress was making her read too much into small gestures.

Namine simply nodded, and Riku left to warm her up some food. Sensing that going back to Sora's memories would be futile, she grabbed her sketch pad and turned it to the very last page. This was her secret page, covered in things she thought about. Mindless doodles she drew when she was waiting for the computer to check on Sora’s physical well-being.

The sketch pad was not necessary for her magic to work. She could rearrange memories- crush the hearts of her poor unsuspecting victims- without it. She used it though to help her concentrate. By visualizing the memories, she was able to make a more convincing edit or capture the feelings that were hiding beneath the surface. So many times she had drawn Sora, Riku and Kairi together. And sure there were strong feelings of both love and jealousy, but had she not had her sketch pad, she might have missed Sora's emotions of gratitude for two stalwart best friends, confusion about school topics they had recently studied, and hope that Kairi would want to go with him to the first school dance, even though he knew they would just go together and bail early to hang out on the play island like they always did whenever the school had some social.

"Here you go. It's nothing special, but it's better than nothing." Riku interrupted her thoughts with a plate of food.

With a gasp, Namine hurried to cover her sketch pad. Even though she knew he couldn't see it, he moved so gracefully that she sometimes wondered if he really was blind. Although those first couple of days made the mansion quite a bit louder with his cries of annoyance as he bumped into furniture. He even fell into the secret compartment that hid the computer lab, but luckily managed to land safely.

"Drawing something you don't want anyone to see?" Riku smirked.

"No!" Namine replied a bit sharper than she thought. "Maybe."

Riku laughed as he set their plates down and pulled a chair over. "I'm only kidding. You don't have to be working on Sora nonstop. If you want to take a moment for yourself, then do it."

"No, I need to be working on Sora. It was my fault he's like this in the first place. I want to keep my promise." Namine picked up the white plastic fork. For once would it hurt to have some color around here?

With a sigh, Riku held his hand out for her to hold. "We've been over this, Nam. What happened wasn't your fault. You were being used." Softly Riku muttered "you still are."

Namine looked at him for a moment and then looked down at her food. She picked at it for a few moments before softly sliding her hand in his and taking a couple of bites. She ate in a comfortable silence, simply feeling the pressure that came from the gentle touch. This sort of thing wasn't unusual for them. They could usually be found in silence with their hands connected. But the mountain of pressure from the recent block in memories and lack of self care was threatening to squish Namine with its enormous weight.

"How's the restoration going?" Riku asked.

Namine's stomach began to twist around itself. "I'm….not sure."

Riku squeezed her hand, urging her to explain. Namine sighed, unsure of how to continue. Would he get mad if she told the truth? He had slowly been becoming more like DiZ, after all. He used to be there with her when she was getting told off. These days, Riku was never usually in the white room for more than five minutes unless it was late at night.

"You remember what Sora's mom used to tell him all the time, right?" Riku recalled.

"Never talk to strangers on the play island?"

Riku chuckled, remembering a secret promise. "A problem shared is a problem halved. If you tell me, it might relieve some of the pressure on you."

There was no avoiding it, not as long as he held her hand.

"It's just that, well-" Namine fumbled for the words. "There's been a bit of a roadblock. I've been doing my best to sort it out, tracing the connections, but it's like the memories slip away as soon as I think I have a grasp on them. I may have gone through half a notebook trying to find a solid piece."

There was a pause, as if Riku were considering what to say.

"I'll go get you a new notebook tomorrow, then. As for the memories, we'll get it figured out. You need to take a break, anyway."

"No!" Namine swallowed back further emotion. Maybe she really did need some sleep. She was being more irrational than she expected. "No, it's fine. I'm sure I'm doing something wrong."

"Don't say stuff like that. If there's anyone who can make this situation right, it's you. Please, just take a few hours to rest tomorrow, okay?" Riku squeezed her hand again.

"I don't really have a choice here, do I?" Namine sighed.

"You always have a choice. I'm just asking you as someone who cares a lot about you."

Someone who cares? Namine thought. She slowly nodded in reply. Maybe a break was exactly what she needed.

"Thank you, Riku."

One Year Later

Again Riku tried to beat Marluxia, and again he was defeated. He only had this last battle to finish, having started against the organization members he recognized or had personally fought against. Which, admittedly wasn't many, but after several attempts, he was down to the last. It frustrated him that he still wasn't quite used to the keyboard controls, and Sora's moves were much less based in strength and relied much more on magic. Riku had never been very good with magic, focusing on perfecting his cure and dark firaga spells instead of learning the large array of magic that his friends had mastered.

Some keyblade master I turned out to be. Riku thought, sitting back in his seat and folding his arms. I can't even stop my two best friends from leaving me again. This is just like back then…

His mind began to drift away with thoughts of Castle Oblivion and Twilight Town. He heard the door open and gentle footsteps move toward him.

"Hey Aerith. We can work on that scarf in a minute. I have to get some more ethers for data Sora first."

"I take it the fight didn't go well then?" A soft voice walked closer.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. Not Aerith.

"Hey Namine. How could you tell?"

Namine placed a hand on his shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. "You're really tense. Besides, I could feel your frustration from a block away."

What anger and annoyance had once plagued Riku's mind had since washed away. All he could register was how reassuring Namine's hand on his shoulder felt. She smelled nice, too. A faint blush warmed his cheeks. Ever since Kairi had insisted on going to sleep and Terra had left for the dark realm with Aqua and Ven, Namine was the only person Riku shared everything with. She had heard him vent several times, and she had been helping Aerith teach him how to knit. It was her delicate fingers that had lead him through the steps of a cable.

"I guess I need a little bit of a break." Riku said with a sigh. "Wanna go get some ice cream or something?"

"Sure." Namine smiled, stepping back so he could get up and stretch. They began to talk as they walked to their usual ice cream shop.

Since Scrooge, Huey and Dewey had returned home, the ice cream shop had been manned by one of the local citizens. He usually gave Riku a discount, so Riku usually put some munny in the tip jar. It had become routine over the past year to go whenever Namine came to visit from Twilight Town.

"How is everything going with Roxas and Xion?" Riku asked, sitting down and unwrapping his fruit bar.

"Slow." Namine replied, taking a small lick from her chocolate cherry ice cream cone. She wanted to try all of the flavors, and this was the last one. "Not too bad, but I think I preferred the strawberry cheesecake the best."

"That was a flavor Kairi always liked." Riku smiled softly.

When he saw the way Namine looked for just the hair of a second, he realized that was probably the wrong thing to say. He inwardly cursed himself and his inability to be the suave guy all the girls had thought he was growing up. Kairi and Namine didn't get much of a chance to talk after she got her replica body, as Kairi had almost immediately asked to be put under. Riku wondered what it was like living inside a heart of pure light. Just like Castle Oblivion, she didn't talk about it much.

"We should get some for her when she wakes up." Namine continued to eat her cone. There was an uncomfortable silence for just a moment before Namine spoke up again. "Who were you fighting when I came in?"

"Marluxia. He was the head of the castle, right?"

Namine nodded.

"I never really got to meet him as I was down in the basement back then. I'm sorry you had to deal with a guy like him."

"It's alright. I...had some support. There was Sora and Donald and Goofy. And despite everything I did to him, there was your replica, too." Namine spoke slowly, choosing her words with care. "But don't feel bad. He made his decisions, like everyone else."

This time, it was Riku's turn to nod in agreement, taking a bite from his treat.

"After the data battles are all said and done, what happens next?" Namine asked softly.

"I...don't know. All I know is that I've been having these weird dreams lately."

"I wondered. You look tired." Namine grabbed on to Riku's hand, intertwining their fingers.

Maybe it was a reflex, maybe it was a force of habit, like how they used to sit back in the old mansion. Either way, the touch on its own was enough to pull Riku away from the dark thoughts that usually sat at the horizon of his mind. He squeezed her hand in response.

"Don't hesitate to call me if you ever need someone to talk to. I miss our little midnight chats." Namine admitted.

"I do too." Riku smiled softly. "They really helped clear my mind back then."

"A problem shared is a problem halved, remember?" Namine was glad she could actually see his eyes as she recalled back to his words that helped her through her time at the old mansion. "Care to share anything?"

Riku paused. He sighed before starting to speak. After he told her of the recurring dream he'd been having with the buildings and the feeling of being watched, he also admitted to the weight that had been pinned on his shoulders.

"I know it might sound silly, but I can't help but wonder if these dreams are connected to Sora somehow. I just wish I could understand it more." Riku finished his bar and set the popsicle stick on the bench beside him.

Namine had just finished her ice cream as well, wiping her face with the napkin. "Maybe it's time you take another journey."

"With the data battle still to fight and Kairi still asleep? I can't leave now."

"Maybe not now, but after the last battle is won." Namine gently pulled his hand close to her and began massaging it. "But that means I can't follow you. Will you be alright on your own? Maybe you can check Kairi's dreams."

"I...don't know. I haven't used my dream eater powers in a long time and the process is still kind of fuzzy for me." He could feel his muscles relax as she worked at his weary hand.

Doubt was rising in his chest. Maybe she was right. Who was he kidding? He wasn't ready for this kind of thing. He wasn't like Sora or Kairi who could follow their hearts at a moment's notice. He couldn't always feel the way it was trying to lead him.

But as he saw Namine patiently working on his hands, the stiff muscles being brought to relax against her fingers, a light shone through the storm of his doubt. How he hadn't realized it before was a mystery. Ever since they had met, she had been the light in the dark, just as he had provided shade for her in the brightest situations. As she finished the massage, she tenderly squeezed his hands, reassuring him that she was there and willing to help. Surely that was love.

He felt love for her, no question. But with Sora and Kairi gone and asleep, there never seemed to be a good moment to tell her what his heart really wanted to say.

"We...we should be getting back." Namine sighed. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"No, but then, I'm not really all that sure of anything anymore."

"If there's anything I know, it's that things will get better. We'll find Sora. I don't know how or when, but we will." Namine took his hand again, standing before him.

Namine took a quick breath and then leaned over, placing a quick kiss atop his head. Ordinarily, she wouldn't be able to reach, but since he was sitting down, she could offer a small token of her affection and confidence in his abilities.

She and Riku's faces filled with blush, although a smile tugged at her lips. Namine didn't have enough courage to kiss him on the lips like she had wanted to for so long, but this was safe. He couldn't spurn her for a harmless kiss to the head. After all, what was some reassurance between friends?

"Thank you, Namine." Riku had a hard time looking at this angel of a woman without his heartbeat increasing.

To think she was willing to be by his side after all this. He decided there and then that he would listen to his heart and tell her of his feelings...after they set everything right. Once Sora and Kairi were home and together, then they could sort out their own relationship. It would give him yet another reason to bring his best friend home.

He could still feel the kiss on his forehead, and it brought a genuine smile to his face. He stood up and began walking away from Merlin's house.

"Don't feel like you have to stop working on the data battles on my account. I just wanted to make sure you were doing alright." Namine stopped for a second.

"We can get back to those soon enough. I need a little longer before I get back into it." He took his trash and threw it into a nearby can. "There are some fountains that are really pretty this time of day nearby if you want to check them out with me."

A smile formed on Namine's lips. "I'd love to, Riku."

#RikuNami #namiku #mopzine #kh fanfiction #riku #namine #post Re:Mind #Pre MoM

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leiasfanaccount648 · 3 years

Text

It’s Hard to Expresso My Feelings For You

Shouto Todoroki x Fem!Reader

Summary: The coming of Winter also means the coming of holiday drinks to put people in the festive spirit. One shop hasn’t released them yet, but that won’t stop a certain employee from trying to make your day.

Warnings/Contains: Coffee Shop!AU, fluff, pining, cursing, Shouto being a clueless yet adorable idiot and Izuku teasing him about it.

Word Count:2788

A/N: I typically have everyone call each other by their first names, but in this I had Shouto and Izuku call each other by their last names cause it just sounded off if they didn’t lmao; also I know espresso is spelled wrong in the title, it’s on purpose haha.

Shouto sighed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as cleaned up the counter top as it was covered in grinded up coffee beans from the night before. He knew that Denki was the one of the people who closed last night and most likely was the one to leave the mess. Of course, it could have been Katsuki for all he knew. Whenever the blond closed, he liked to leave as quickly as possible and if he was in a bad mood, which was often, he could leave some of the minimal stuff left to the openers to take care of.

Shouto glanced at the clock on the wall to check the time, sighing as he realized that he had to unlock the doors to the shop; after all, they opened in 10 minutes. He walked away from behind the counter, keys in hand ready to unlock the door when he heard a voice from the back.

“Hey, Todoroki! Do you know where the eggnog is?”

Shouto unlocked the door quickly before walking to the counter again. He double checked the counter before going to the back where he heard Izuku calling for him. “What’s eggnog?” He stood in the doorway of the fridge as he watched his coworker and friend, who had convinced him to take the job he now has, rummage through the boxes that were shipped to the store last night.

Izuku chuckled to himself as he heard his friend. “It’s a cold drink that people like to have during the holidays.” He sighed, his smile turning into a frown as he finished looking through all the boxes; he stood up. “And it doesn’t look like we didn’t get any in last night’s shipment.”

“Were we supposed to?” Shouto followed his friend back to the front so that they could be ready for when some of their early bird customers came into the shop.

Izuku looked over everything on the counter, even though he knew that his friend had already prepared everything for the morning. He leaned against the countertop. “Well, since it’s officially December, I figured we would. Plus we might even get more business as a result.” He smiled as Shouto nodded, seeming to understand what he meant.

Just then the bell on the shop’s door jingled, signalling that someone had walked in. Izuku glanced at the girl, giving her a grin. “Hi! Welcome to the Academia Coffee House,” he glanced at Shouto. “You take the order and I’ll make it?”

“Yeah, sure.” Shouto nodded and walked over to the register. “What can I get for you today?”

The girl looked at Shouto after glancing at the menu, stepping towards the counter. “Um, do you by any chance have an eggnog drink that I can add a shot of espresso to?”

Shouto’s eyes widened slightly, surprised to hear about this eggnog drink twice already today. “No, we don’t. I’m sorry.”

The girl smiled, shaking her head. “Oh, it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” She adjusted the backpack that hung on her shoulder. “In that case,” she glanced at Shouto’s hair, smiling to herself. “Can I just get a medium peppermint mocha with an extra shot, please?”

“Sure.” Shouto clicked the drink on the register’s screen, adding the extra shot of espresso the girl asked for. “Can I get a name?”

“(Y/N).”

Shouto nodded, typing the name into the computer. “Alright, your total is $6.48.”

(Y/N) nodded, handing him a couple bills. After Shouto handed back her change, she placed it all into the tip jar. “Thank you, have a good day.”

“You, too.”

With that, she walked away, picking the table by the unlit fireplace in the corner. She sat down and opened her backpack, pulling out her laptop along with a notebook and pen. Shouto didn’t even realize that he was staring until Izuku nudged his arm.

“Todoroki, can you hand me the whipped cream?”

Shouto blinked out of whatever trance he was in and glanced at his friend before reaching into one of the fridges underneath the countertop. He grabbed the can of whipped cream and handed it to Izuku who happily took it from him.

“You okay there?” Izuku chuckled, grabbing one of the glass mugs and pouring the drink into it. “You appeared to be dozing off there.”

“What do you mean?” Shouto closed the fridge, facing Izuku.

“You were staring at that girl weren’t you?”

Shouto hesitated his answer before responding, making Izuku chuckle again as he put the whipped cream on top of the drink. “She tried ordering one of those eggnog drinks. I was just shocked by it. I didn’t think it was that popular.”

“Whatever you say, Todoroki.” Izuku smiled at his friend before placing the mug onto it’s matching saucer; he placed it on the pick up counter. “Peppermint mocha with an extra shot for (Y/N).”

Upon hearing her name, she glanced up at the counter and stood up as she saw her drink. She walked over, carefully picking it up. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Enjoy!” Izuku nodded, glancing over at Shouto, who was once again watching (Y/N) go back to her table.

“You know it’s not nice to stare, Todoroki.”

“I wasn’t staring.”

A couple days later, Todoroki had another morning shift. He wasn’t opening the shop thankfully, but he was still tired nonetheless; he yawned as he opened the door, quickly making his way behind the counter to clock in as he saw the line of people starting to grow at the register.

“Good morning, Shouto.” Ochako smiled as she saw her coworker, both out of relief that there was more help to make the orders that kept coming in and the fact that she hadn’t seen him in a couple weeks due to the way the shift schedule had been made recently due to the holidays coming up.

“Good morning.” It may have been 11 o’clock, but for some it felt as though it was the crack of dawn. “Where do you need me?”

“Uh,” Ochako glanced at the register, sighing in relief as Eijirou appeared to be taking the orders without a problem. “If you could help me make some of these drinks I’d greatly appreciate it.”

“Sure thing.” Shouto clocked into the system before grabbing an apron and putting it on. He walked over and picked up one of the order receipts, his eyes widened as he read the name at the top as well as the order.

Order # 44 - TO GO

Name: (Y/N)

Med. Pep. Mocha

ADD ESPRESSO SHOT

Shouto smiled to himself before getting started on the drink, glancing up every now and then to try and spot the girl he had seen just a couple days prior. Eventually he did see her, smiling to himself as he saw her on her phone, not necessarily paying attention to anything else. He didn’t even realize that he muttered the word ‘cute’ under his breath as he continued making her drink.

Soon enough, he grabbed a lid for the to go cup he was holding, putting it on; he walked over to the pick up counter, placing the drink down. “Peppermint mocha with an extra shot for (Y/N).”

As she heard her name, (Y/N) looked up from her phone and walked over to the counter. She grabbed her drink, meeting Shouto��s gaze. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome,” he smiled as well. “Have a good day.”

“You, too.” (Y/N) glanced down at the name tag on his shirt, smiling a little bit more before she turned around and left the shop.

Shouto took an extra second to watch her leave before walking back over to where the order receipts kept coming on the counter.

Later in the day, once it got less busy in the shop, Shouto walked over to the register. “Hey, Eijirou,” the red head turned around to face him. “Did anyone ask you about an eggnog drink?”

Eijirou thought back to earlier in the day, eventually nodding. “Yeah, there was. Why do you ask?”

Shouto shrugged, trying not to seem excited or anything but nonchalant. “Midoriya brought up how we may end up making those and someone asked about it the other day. I didn’t know if that was happening any time soon.”

Eijirou shrugged. “I don’t know either. Last I heard we’re not doing anything special for the holidays.”

Shouto nodded, leaning back on the counter with his arms crossed. He thought back to that (Y/N) girl who had come in twice now asking about the drink. He didn’t know why she was on his mind now, but he wasn’t particularly mad about it; just confused. He didn’t even know her besides her name and the drink she keeps wanting to order in their shop.

~ ~ ~

“You’re thinking about her again, aren’t you?”

“What? Who?”

“That (Y/N) girl who’s been coming in every now and then.”

Shouto held back a sigh from Izuku’s words, not wanting to admit to his friend that he was right about his assumptions. Instead of replying, he simply kept scrolling through his phone while leaning against the counter.

It had been almost 2 weeks since (Y/N) had first come into the store asking if the shop was selling an eggnog drink, and every time, since that drink wasn’t available, she would order a peppermint mocha with an extra shot of espresso. Shouto had even seen her and taken her order so much that the two even knew each other by name; however, Shouto, for some reason unknown to him, wanted to try and make her drink that she’d been asking for for nearly 2 weeks.

“I’ll take your silence as a yes then.” Izuku laughed, starting to make himself a drink. They were on the closing shift, so it wasn’t as busy, and it was just the two of them working since Mina called in saying that she was sick.

“I’m not thinking about (Y/N).”

Izuku glanced over Shouto’s shoulder as he reached to grab the half and half cream beside him; he held back a smirk. “Then why are you googling how to make eggnog from scratch?”

Shouto immediately closed his phone, shoving it in his pocket and crossing his arms while his cheeks tinted the slightest shade of pink. “I am not.” “Whatever you say, Todoroki.” He laughed softly, finishing making his drink for himself. He took a sip before speaking up again. “You should try getting her phone number. She appears to be into you as well.”

Shouto glanced to the side, his shoulders appearing to lose their tension. “You really think so?”

“Yeah. Why not go for it, you know?” Izuku took another sip of his drink before glancing over at the door as it opened. He smiled to himself. “Actually, why don’t you go ahead and try making the drink she wants?” He then placed his drink down on the countertop before walking over to the register where (Y/N) stood waiting patiently.

“Hi (Y/N)! How are you this evening?”

“Pretty good, thank you. How about you, Izuku?”

Shouto felt his stomach turn with nerves as he saw (Y/N). He glanced at the floor before pulling his phone back out from his pocket, unlocking it to see the eggnog recipe he had been looking at. He took a deep breath as he heard (Y/N) question of whether or not they had an eggnog holiday drink, only for Izuku to politely say no, despite there being a sparkle in his eyes that said otherwise.

Shouto took a deep breath before gathering the ingredients he needed in order to make the drink. He heard (Y/N) walk away from the counter, standing off to the side by the counter. He tried not to think about the fact that she was possible watching him make her drink.

After about 15 minutes, (Y/N) grew confused as to why her drink was taking so long considering the fact that no one else had come into the store and Shouto was the one making her drink. She was about to say something when she caught a whiff of a familiar scent, but not one she had smelled in the store before.

“Is that-”

“Eggnog? Yep.” Shouto spoke up as he heard her, glancing over and smiling at her as he began pouring said drink into a glass mug. “Do you still want the espresso in it?”

“Yes, please.”

Shouto’s smile grew as he heard the excitement in her voice. He then readied the shot of espresso. “Whipped cream and cinnamon?”

“Please.” (Y/N) nodded, touched at the fact that the man was taking the time to make her a drink from scratch. She watched as Shouto added the espresso shot before the whipped cream and cinnamon. “Thank you so much, Shouto.”

“Well, I figured you’ve been getting tired of the peppermint mocha.” Shouto set the mug atop the saucer, gently pushing it toward (Y/N) on the counter.

“Well it’s much appreciated.” (Y/N) laughed softly before picking up the mug carefully since it was still pretty hot. She took a sip, her eyes widening.

“Is it good?” Shouto felt his heart rate pick up as he hoped that she liked it; he let out the breath he was holding as he watched her nod with a bright smile on her face.

“It’s delicious! Did you guys finally get eggnog in stock?”

Shouto shook his head, looking off to the side while one hand held the back of his neck. “No, um, I actually made it from scratch,” he paused, not sure what else to say. “You kept asking us for it, and I figured I could try and make it for you.”

(Y/N) nodded, placing the mug back on the sauce before picking it up again. “Still, it means a lot. Thank you.” She smiled and walked over to her usual table by the fireplace, which was lit today.

In the last hour of his shift, Shouto couldn’t stop himself from smiling and glancing over at (Y/N). Eventually he and Izuku had to start closing up the shop. Shouto started turning off and cleaning the machines while Izuku began wiping down the tables. When she saw the green haired man, (Y/N) began putting away her laptop. “Thank you again for the eggnog espresso. It was delicious. You guys should add it to your menu if you can.”

“We just might.” Izuku glanced over at Shouto as he walked into the back room; he looked back over at (Y/N). “Todoroki typically doesn’t know how to tell people that he cares about them, you’re pretty special, you know that?”

(Y/N) glanced over at Shouto as he walked back to the front, smiling as he met her gaze. “Yeah. I could tell that he’s kinda shy in a way.” She finished putting away her things in her backpack before walking over to the counter. “Shouto?”

The two toned hair man looked up, wondering what she could possibly ask of him. “Yeah? What is it?”

“I know this may seem a bit forward, but would it be possible for me to get your number?”

Shouto stared at her for a second, glancing at Izuku who stood a couple feet behind her and nodding enthusiastically; he nodded as well. “Sure.”

Grabbing a piece of receipt paper and a pen, Shouto wrote down his number before handing it (Y/N). “I apologize for my handwriting.”

“It’s alright. I can read it just fine.” (Y/N) laughed softly, trying not to show her enthusiasm too much. “I’ll text you later tonight, okay?”

Shouto nodded, still surprised at the fact that (Y/N) also appeared to also take an interest in him. With that, (Y/N) said goodbye to him and Izuku before leaving the shop, the smile on her face making it evident that she was unbelievably happy.

Izuku walked over to his friend, clearly happy as well. “Todoroki, you’ve got a date!”

“A date?” Shouto eyed him, confused. After all, he never saw his parents go on dates, and whenever he heard about them from his friends, they always appeared to be them physically going out with someone. “But (Y/N) didn’t ask to take me out somewhere.”

Izuku laughed, shaking his head. “No, no, I mean that she wants to take you out with you as your date.” He paused, trying to study Shouto’s reaction. “She wants to get to know you better Todoroki.”

Shouto looked back at the shop’s windows, part of him hoping that (Y/N) would be there; he smiled to himself, nodding at Izuku’s statement. “I guess you’re right.”

tags: @briswriting

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star-trekkin-across-theuniverse · 3 years

Text

Worthy, pt 1 & 2

I stopped and stared up at the building in front of me. Imposing, huge, and a beacon for anyone concerned with clean energy. I had won the internship at Stark Industries research and development division by working my ass off all year, coming up with innovative and exciting ways to utilize the arc reactor technology. I’d been interviewed by Mr. Stark himself when it came time to award the position. I’d never been so excited to work in an unpaid position in my life. It was made all the better by being in New York City. And even more awesome because accommodation was provided in the tower. Even if the internship didn’t lead to permanent employment at Stark Industries after my sojourn there, it would be a resume jackpot.

I stopped at the main security desk and picked up my passcard. Elizabeth Carmichael. It sounded much more glamourous than Ella did, but I’d never been called Elizabeth in my entire life. Always Ella, except from my Nan, who called me Bethy. I clipped the tag on my blouse and headed to the elevator. The email from the HR department had been clear: pick up your passcard, and report to the main office of R&D on the 55th floor. I pressed the button and waited for the elevator to close. A hand reached in to stop the door and Mr. Stark stepped in. He smiled, like he would to anyone he shared the elevator with, and then his eyes narrowed as he read my nametag.

“Ms. Carmichael! You’ve made it to the city then? Where are your bags? Are you not staying on site?” He spoke so fast I could barely follow him.

“My flight arrived late last night. I thought I would stay at a hotel overnight and then get organized to move into my room, sir.” I felt breathless just trying to keep up with his speech, and rushed through my own explanation.

“We’ll send someone to collect your things. We’re having a little social in the lounge tonight; you don’t want to miss it. Good networking opportunities. There are three of you that earned internships. Pepper was particularly excited about you. Not a lot of women in STEM, you know. So we’re having a meet and greet for the three of you. Mostly Stark staff, but there'll be some others in attendance. Angela will get you organized.” There was even information stored in the nuances of how he spoke. It was going to be overwhelming until I got used to it. If I got the chance to get used to it. This elevator interaction might be the last time I saw Mr. Stark for the rest of the summer. The elevator doors opened, and I stepped out into the bright, clean research and development administrative office. I waited at the desk while the woman sitting there was on a call. Her nameplate said Angela, so I suspected she was who Mr. Stark said would organize me.

“Ella, right?” She swivelled her chair to face me. I nodded. “I’ve already contacted the concierge at your hotel to have your belongings sent over. I’ll show you to your rooms at the end of your orientation and tour. Then you can get settled.”

“I won’t be working?” I was surprised.

“Not today. Today is all about the Stark Industries machine and how you fit into it. So orientation to the labs, meet some of the people you’ll be working under, settling into your suite and figuring out your way around. There’s a meet and greet tonight.” She typed something into her computer and then rose. Without waiting for me, she headed off down a hallway. “This is the administrative floor for Research and Development. R&D takes twenty floors here, from 55 to 75. Starting at the 76th floor, the Avengers Tower begins, and you’ll only end up there if Mr. Stark wants to meet with you. Well, and for the mixer tonight. The 56th and 57th floors are all housing. Our guest scientists are housed on 56 and your suite is on 57. The project you’ve been assigned to is an offshoot of the household arc reactor project, and will allow you to work on one of your proposals. That division is on 60 through 65. Your direct supervisor is Markus Reid.” I scrambled to scribble notes and keep up with her and she led me through a maze of hallways and offices. We finally came to a halt and I was so busy scratching notes into my notebook that I bumped into her.

“Oh, god. Sorry,” I apologized. She smiled and shook her head.

“Relax, Ella. You were the top candidate. Your proposals rocked Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts' socks off. You belong here,” she reassured me. “And I’m going to email all this info to you, so you can put away your notebook.”

“Thanks. I’m feeling a bit small right now,” I admitted.

“The first few days are very overwhelming for every Stark Industries employee. It’s why we schedule nothing work-related on the first day.” She knocked on a door and hesitated just a second before opening it. “I have Elizabeth Carmichael here to sign some paperwork.” She led me into the office, and sat in a chair near the door after pointing to a chair at the desk. Another woman smiled and dropped a sheaf of paper in front of me.

“The bottom half of that is the paperwork for you that explains everything in the top half. But this is a basic non-disclosure agreement. The second one is the follow up to the initial waiver you signed when you applied for the internship, giving proprietary rights to Stark Industries, while maintaining your intellectual property, authorship and development rights. That basically means if what you’re working on goes into production, it will be a Stark Industries product, but you will be credited as the inventor. There’s some tax paperwork and a release for your university.” The woman handed me a pen. I looked up at her while I tried to process everything she’d explained.

“Tax paperwork?”

“For your pay.”

“Oh, I’m here for the internship. I’m not paid.” I thought that would be clear to an HR person.

“No, Mr. Stark pays his interns. It makes the transition when you are hired easier,” she explained.

“What?”

“Did you not read your acceptance package?” She gave me a look that suggested she thought I might be stupid.

“I did. It suggested that if Stark Industries was happy with my performance, I could be offered an extension at the end of the internship, provided my degree was complete.” At least, that’s what I’d understood from reading it.

“And you’ve already provided transcripts showing you’ve finished both your bachelor’s and master’s degrees. There were only three internships offered, Ms. Carmichael. We complete all your paperwork now with the assumption that you will be staying on at Stark Industries. If you’ve passed our rigorous application process, we feel you are a keeper. If you choose not to stay, it will be because you chose not to stay,” She explained. I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. I knew the internship was prestigious, but I didn’t realize exactly how incredible it was.

“Oh. Well. In that case,” I said and scratched my signature across the papers in front of me. She offered her hand. I stood and shook it.

“Welcome to Stark Industries, Ms. Carmichael.”

XXX

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Angela assured me that her email would include maps, and secret notes and tidbits that would help me remember everything, but I was so floored from the words of the HR person that I really couldn’t focus. Angela led me to the commissary for lunch and ordered for both of us. I didn’t even realize until she handed me a tray with food on it.

“Are you going to be okay?” She asked. I gave my head a little shake to snap back to reality and smiled in apology.

“Sorry. I’m feeling even more overwhelmed than I was when I got out of the cab this morning,” I laughed. She took a seat at a table and nodded for me to sit across from her.

“You should give yourself some credit. You earned your place here. Pepper is really excited about having you. I suspect you’ll be the poster child for gender equality at Stark Industries for some time to come. As soon as you won that internship, your place here was secured. Probably for life,” she grinned. I shook my head.

“What if I’m a dud?”

“You aren’t though. Mr. Stark himself thoroughly vetted your application, and Pepper went through your references with a fine tooth comb. She even tracked down extra references. You deserve this more than anyone who’s ever applied before, Ella.”

“I feel like I might be sick,” I groaned. It was her turn to shake her head.

“It’s first day jitters. Once you’ve settled into a routine and have your nose into all that sciencey stuff you do, it’ll all blow over,” She laughed. I didn’t want to pick a fight so I just focussed on my lunch.

XXX

My suite was ridiculous. I’d understood we’d be provided with a room. In my mind, I had thought dormitory style, like at university. I was quickly learning Tony Stark did nothing by halves. I had a suite. First of all, the whole thing was fully furnished. The master bedroom had the biggest bed I’d ever seen in it, and an ensuite bathroom with a shower bigger than my last dorm room. There was a second bedroom, I’m not sure why. Plus an office, an open floor plan living room and kitchen and a main bathroom. There was a storage closet that I’m pretty sure could have kept a small family comfortable. And a deck with a view of the city. I opened the fridge and discovered it had been fully stocked already. I grabbed a bottle of water and stood at the counter, the overwhelming feeling of just too much washing across me again. There was a bound book on the counter, and when I flipped through it, I realized it was a Stark Tower lifestyle guide, with information about the pool, the gym, the on-site movie theatre, the commissary, and on and on. There was a tablet on the wall that allowed you to order in take-away or groceries. Housekeeping was once a week. I pinched myself to make sure it wasn’t a dream, fully expecting to awaken back in the dorm room at the university. But I didn’t.

I unpacked my bags and checked my email for the details on the get together. Casual evening wear. What was that, even? I grabbed my phone and texted Angela. Whether she liked it or not, she was my new bestie.

“What does casual evening wear mean?”

“Nothing too fancy. Knee length dress is more appropriate than floor length.”

“I’ve been in university for the last nine years. I have nothing even remotely appropriate.”

“I’m on it. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

XXX

“I’m sorry, Angela, I just didn’t know who else to ask.” I felt like all I was doing was apologizing to her. She laughed.

“You’re my assignment for the next few weeks. And you are so much nicer than the last new hire I was paired with. I can see actually wanting to spend time with you,” she laughed.

“Really? You’re my personal person?” I arched an eyebrow. She laughed again.

“Something like that. Human Resources likes to pair someone from admin to new hires as an orientation guide. It’s a pretty awesome job, to be honest. I get to meet most of the new people on their way in the door. Make lots of new friends. Meet lots of cute science nerd guys.” She winked. I laughed.

“And yet you don’t mind being assigned me. I must be very special indeed,” I teased.

“You’re little lost puppy eyes sucked me right in,” she giggled. “Come on, let’s get you a dress.” It felt like she dragged me all over town, but the truth was, we didn’t go far, and we only visited a couple of stores. I tried on everything she brought to me, and let her tell me what looked best. I was most comfortable in jeans, a t-shirt and a lab coat, so I trusted her judgement. We were a whirlwind of activity after picking the dress. She steered me over to a shoe store, and then a make-up store. I didn’t even realize there was such a thing as a make-up store. I only kept mascara in my bathroom because my eyelashes were so light you couldn’t see them without a bit of mascara on them.

When we finally got back to the building, I wanted nothing more than to take a nap. Angela shooed me into the shower and ordered us some dinner instead. She helped me with my hair and then sat me down to eat.

“Do you wear contacts ever?” She asked. I pushed my glasses up my nose and shook my head.

“No, they don’t make contacts for eyes like mine,” I admitted.

“Okay. I can work with that,” she looked at me thoughtfully and chewed on her pizza. Before I knew it, she was rearranging my hair, and applying make-up and amazingly, although I’d honestly never thought I’d enjoy the fuss that went along with dressing up, I did enjoy myself. It helped that Angela kept a running commentary of exclamations about how pretty I was, and how nice my eyes were. I never had thought there was anything particularly special about my brown hair and brown eyes. I changed my mind when Angela let me look in the mirror. My hair was loose and wavy, and cascaded over my shoulders. The red dress she’d found for me highlighted that my hair was more than one shade of brown, and brought out the natural glow in my cheeks. My eyes, despite being framed behind my glasses, looked big and sparkly.

“Wow.”

“You’ll have half the R&D guys begging for your number by the end of the night!” Angela laughed. I blushed.

“I don’t know about that,” I protested. She laughed again.

“Come on. I’ll be your wingman.” She linked arms with me and led me out the door and to the elevator. XXX

The crushing feeling of inadequacy hit me again as the elevator opened up to let us out into the cocktail party. I hesitated at the gap between the elevator and the large, noisy room. Angela gave me a gentle nudge, but I froze, taking in the panorama in front of me. Almost every scientist I’d ever quoted in any of my research was standing in that room, mingling with one another. When Tony Stark isn’t the biggest name in a room, it can make you pause. I’m pretty sure I recognized the most recent recipient of the Nobel Prize in physics standing by the bar. And Dr. Banner was lingering near the door to the patio and pool deck, looking exceptionally uncomfortable. At least he was near an exit where he could cool off and relax if he needed to. His research was what drove me into the sciences. In the end, I decided gamma radiation wasn’t really the area I was passionate about, and pursued research that put me in Stark’s path. But he was still kinda my hero.

“If you don’t step off this elevator right now, I’m going to push you off, and then you’ll draw a lot more attention to yourself than if you act like a normal person.” Angela had my number already. I stepped into the party tentatively. Angela steered me straight to the bar. “Let’s get a drink into you, loosen you up a little. These people have all been where you are, Ella. What’s your poison?”

“Vodka, rocks.” My eyes were glued to the room, and I just kept recognizing more and more people. Surely they all didn’t work for Stark Industries. I would have noticed that at some point during my application process. Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts saw me as Angela handed me my drink. Ms. Potts smiled in welcome and headed straight to me. I didn’t have time to panic.

“Ms. Carmichael! I’m so pleased to see you. You look a bit like a canary in a room of cats. Don’t. They’re all harmless. And some of them are very excited to discuss your proposals with you,” she took my hand and squeezed it familiarly. It was not at all like my boss was shaking my hand, but more like a friend greeting me.

“It’s nice to see you again, Ms. Potts.” I managed, and took a sip from my glass.

“Please, Pepper is fine. We’ll reserve the formality for press releases,” she smiled. “Are you settling into your rooms?”

“I am. They’re much more than I was expecting. Everything about this internship is more than I was expecting,” I blurted. I was nervous enough that I took a perhaps-larger-than-it-should-have-been swallow from my glass and nearly choked.

“We’re so pleased you accepted, Ms. Carmichael,” Pepper gushed. “Really. I’m sure Angela has filled you in about the women in STEM initiative Stark Industries is backing.”

“If I’m going to call you Pepper, you’re going to have to call me Ella. Angela mentioned a little about it, but I didn’t realize there was an entire initiative.” The combination of vodka and talking shop with Pepper was starting to ease my nerves, and I could feel the tension starting to melt from my shoulders.

“We’re starting summer and weekend science and technology camps for girls. I’m hoping you’ll be able to find some time to work with me on promoting them. I think Angela has scheduled a meeting for us sometime in the next few days,” she explained.

“That would be really cool.” I took another sip. There wasn’t much left in my glass. I was going to need to slow down. Mr. Stark was watching the crowd, but I could tell that his head was in our conversation.

“I hope you’ll come out of your shell a little, Ms. Carmichael. You were vibrant during the interview process. I hope that wasn’t a one-off. It’ll be hard to sell STEM as cool with a mousy science nerd girl as the PR star.” He was suddenly back in the conversation full force. I flushed.

“Tony! It’s first-day nerves. We can’t all be the shiniest constellation in the sky all the time,” Pepper scolded him. “Don’t pay attention to him, Ella. Parties bring out the worst of his quirks.” The way she said it, I could almost see the air-quotes hanging in the air around the word quirks. I smiled.

“I promise you, Mr. Stark. I can be just as shiny as you need me to be when surrounded by young women. It’s when I’m in the presence of the likes of Dr. Banner and Dr. McCoy that I tend to get star-struck. And I think, did I see Reed Richards?” I found my voice. Mr. Stark smiled.

“Since we’re all making friends, you may as well call me Tony,” he allowed. “I make sure my best and brightest get a chance to meet the best and brightest.”

“As much as I appreciate the opportunity, it’s just a little overwhelming.” I felt it was only fair to be honest with them, since they were my employers. Pepper squeezed my hand again.

“I have no doubt, after speaking to your references, that you will be everything that we are looking for, Ella,” she reassured me. I took another sip from my glass, and Tony suddenly noticed it in my hand.

“Please tell me that’s not water. We have a strict no water at parties rule here at Stark Industries.” Mr. Stark took my glass away and finished what was left. He coughed and handed it back. “Oh, I think you’re going to fit in here quite well, Mouse.” Angela took the glass from me and got a fresh one from the bar. I reminded myself to go slow. There was no point in getting drunk in front of such an auspicious crowd on my first day.

Angela led me around to a number of people I would be working with, including my direct supervisor, Markus Reid. He shook my hand with enthusiasm and launched into a long-winded explanation of my project and how it would fit in with his project. I found myself lingering with him for longer than was probably necessary. He was passionate about his work with the arc reactor technology and he reminded me of my thesis supervisor, ready to help and happy to share whatever advances he had discovered. It was the lynchpin in making me settle for the evening. If my supervisor was excited to have me, no one else really mattered. Angela’s face lit up and she excused me from the conversation.

“Shut up. You are not going to believe this. I have someone to introduce to you!” She exclaimed. I followed her as she led me across the lounge and toward the windows overlooking the outside deck. I couldn’t figure out who she wanted me to meet, but the last person who’d been near where we were headed was Dr. Banner, and I was sure she’d seen him earlier. She slowed to a more dignified walk and led me to Dr. Banner. He was chatting with a petite brunette who looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place her. Dr. Banner looked up and acknowledged Angela as he finished what he was saying to the other woman.

“Angela, you always walk with such purpose.” His tone was warm, and he gripped her hand with both of his. It was obvious from Angela’s relaxed posture that they’d worked with each other a few times.

“Comes with the job. This is Elizabeth Carmichael, one of the new interns here at Stark,” she introduced me. “Ella, this is Bruce Banner.” She paused and turned toward the woman. “And if I’m not mistaken, this is Dr. Jane Foster?” Dr. Banner shook my hand and nodded toward Dr. Foster.

“So pleased to meet you, Dr. Banner. It was your work that led me into the sciences.” I tried not to gush. I don’t think I was successful.

“Really? My understanding was that physics and engineering were your specialties,” he asked. My heart nearly stopped. He knew my areas of study. My science geek girl idol knew my specialties.

“I got really into green energy during my undergrad studies, and my focus switched,” I admitted.

“And my accident had nothing to do with that?” He raised an eyebrow. I laughed and realized that might not have been the best response. I bit back my smile and shook my head.

“Actually, no. Your accident happened when I was in first year, and I stuck with my studies as a minor. It was when it was time to begin my master’s that I felt I could do more good, with my level of knowledge, if I pursued green energy,” I explained. He looked thoughtful.

“And once again, Bruce, I point out that your accident has significantly less effect on the opinions of others than you think,” Dr. Foster jumped in, and offered her hand. I shook it. “Such a pleasure to meet you, Ella. Tony has been beside himself with excitement about your thesis. I think the other two interns might be getting the short end of the stick.”

“Except that there is no short end of the stick at Stark,” Banner argued. Dr. Foster laughed and nodded.

“It’s so true. I wish these internships had existed when I was struggling for funding.” she looked past my shoulder, distracted. I turned and followed her gaze until it lit on the most beautiful man I think I’d ever seen. He was tall, and blond, and broad, with a big smile and an equally large laugh. And from the way Dr. Foster was looking at him, I realized he must be Thor. “I didn’t realize he was going to be here.” The smile fell from her face.

“I’m sorry, Jane, I had no idea. Why would he be here? He’s not one of you sciencey types,” Angela apologized. Dr. Foster turned to me and shook my hand again.

“It was truly lovely to meet you, Ella. I look forward to watching your project. If you ever need anything, Angela can get you in touch with me. Even if it’s just a woman-to-woman bitchfest. We STEM ladies need to stick together.” She excused herself and made her way quickly to the elevator. Angela and I watched her as the elevator doors closed. I was disappointed, but turned back to Dr. Banner. He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by Thor stepping up to us.

“Banner, my friend! It has been too long since we’ve met. You look well!” Everything about Thor was big. He pulled Dr. Banner into one of those one-armed-man-hugs, his massive arms straining against the confines of his t-shirt. He towered over both of us. He released Dr. Banner and turned to Angela and I. If I looked anything like Angela did, I was gawking like a slack-jawed idiot. I nudged her gently and she closed her mouth.

“Ladies, it is well to make your acquaintance. I am Thor, of Asgard,” he introduced, taking my hand and kissing my knuckles. I raised an eyebrow and glanced at Angela.

“Ella Carmichael.” I couldn’t form any other words. There was just so much of him, and it was so close. I was completely star-struck in a way I’d never been about a fellow scientist. He took Angela’s hand.

“Angela Benett,” she breathed. I was so glad I wasn’t the only one on the verge of swooning. The man was truly a specimen. Banner cleared his throat, and I snapped my attention back over to the man who had arguably been the first crush of my science geeky heart.

“What brings you here, Thor?” he asked. Thor turned back to him and smiled his ridiculous, large, beautiful smile.

“I had need to speak to Tony. I’d not realized it was a celebration, or I would have come tomorrow. Twas not urgent,” he explained. “And I am afraid I have chased Jane from her colleagues.” There was regret in his tone. Things were obviously over with them, not merely bumpy or awkward.

“He said twas,” I whispered to Angela. She stifled a giggle. I’m not sure why it was so amusing, other than that I had finished my second vodka. I’m not sure what her excuse was; I knew she hadn’t been drinking. “I hope we’ll get a chance to talk more about what you’re studying now, Dr. Banner.” I had to excuse myself before I made an idiot of myself in front of Dr. Banner and Thor. Angela followed me to the deck. I stretched out on a deck chair and looked up at the sky. Stark Tower was so high that it seemed to be above the smog of the city. There was still loads of light pollution, but I was reassured that the stars were the same in New York City as they were at home in Washington. We sat quietly for a few minutes.

“Thanks for being my sidekick, Angela,” I sighed. “I don’t know if I’d have made it through the afternoon, let alone this evening, without your assistance.”

“Well, like I said, it’s my job. But paycheque aside, you’re alright, Ella,” she chuckled.

“I’m glad you think so. I don’t know if I can afford Stark wages to keep you as a friend.” Across the deck something caught my eye, and I slipped off my shoes to walk over to it. Angela must have seen it too because she followed curiously. It was the biggest damn hammer I’ve ever seen in my life, just sitting on a low table beside the pool. It was fancy, tooled with knotwork. I ran my hand over it. I wasn’t sure what it was made of. It had the warm feel of vibranium, but it almost seemed to hum under my hand. I slid my hand up the leather wrapped handle. The grip was comfortable. I squeezed the handle, and felt the give of the leather wrap against my hand.

“I don’t know if you should be playing with that, Ella,” Angela warned.

“What do you suppose it is? It feels like it’s got more of a purpose than just a giant paperweight, or decoration,” I thought out loud, flexing my fingers along the handle. It felt like it needed to be held. I might not be describing that properly, but it was almost like it spoke to me. Which clearly suggested I’d had too much to drink.

“I haven’t seen it before, but I don’t get up into this part of the tower much. Is it heavy? Maybe it’s a prop or a prototype or some sort,” Angela shrugged. I adjusted my grip on the handle and prepared myself to lift it, assuming it would be ridiculously heavy. I was surprised when after a slight tug of resistance, I was able to heft the thing in the air. The air around us crackled with static, and suddenly a shock ran through my body, from the hand that was holding the hammer through to my feet. Everything around me slowed down, almost like slow motion in the movies. I looked up at Angela and saw Thor and Dr. Banner running towards us over her shoulder. Thor was reaching out, his mouth forming some kind of words, but I couldn’t hear them. I felt the hammer tug out of my hand and it flew away from me. The electricity left my body and I collapsed on the pool deck.

“What the actual fuck?” I muttered before blackness overtook my thoughts.

#bruce banner x OFC

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