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bambheez · 1 year

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tonight is for the two of us (l.hs)

SUMMARY: two lonely people who find comfort in each other’s presence for one night. PAIRING: heeseung x reader GENRE: angst, smut WARNINGS: mentions of character death, grief, depression, insomnia, child and domestic abuse, alcoholism, profanity, light smut WORD COUNT: 5.8k A/N: the way this entire thing screams verbosity but that’s just my style so pls forgive me lol… obviously this is different from what I’ve posted so far in that there’s actual plot and it’s somewhat dark (so please read the long ass list of warnings before you proceed). you can also listen to the PLAYLIST for this story (I am in love with all of these songs)! as always, reblogs/comments/feedback are especially appreciated! :)

Your clammy hands were gripping the steering wheel to the point where your dashboard lights illuminated the whites of your knuckles. As you made your way up the windy roads to the lookout point, void of any streetlamps and relying on your high beams on blast, you were silently thankful for the lack of cars trailing behind you or driving toward you in the opposite direction.

Had you done your research beforehand instead of simply plugging the address into your phone, perhaps you wouldn’t have embarked on this hour-long journey to go stargazing with your colleagues. You suggested carpooling to no avail, having to face your absurd fear of driving not only at night but also on sketchy, unfamiliar roads.

A slight crane of your neck to the right brought you a view of the city’s skyline in the distance, a hazy glow amidst a sea of black, and you wished you could teleport back to the comfort of the bright, bustling city. The mere thought of having to drive back down this same path later had you letting out a deep groan.

A sudden interjection of your phone’s navigation app announcing that you were arriving at your destination in 100 feet caused you to whip your head back in focus, scanning the parking lot as you approached the top of the mountain.

Your car was the only one in the vicinity, save for a camper van with none of its lights on, looking particularly worn-down and deserted. You parked in a random empty spot, unplugging your phone from its charging port before stepping out into the brisk air. Spotting a bench near the lookout point, you took long strides up across the parking lot and up the hill, plopping down to sit and fishing your phone out of your pocket to check your notifications.

You were surprised to find an empty home screen, expecting a “sorry, we’ll be a few minutes late” in your group chat seeing as it was over ten minutes past the time you were meant to arrive. You dialed the number of the coworker who invited you and you heard her voice come onto the line after three long rings.

“Hey! What’s up?” she was nearly screaming over sounds of at least a dozen other people talking.

“What’s your ETA?” you were muttering, already having a bad feeling of what she was about to say.

“H-huh? Oh, it’s supposed to rain tonight, so we canceled! Sorry, I thought we told y–” you were tearing the phone away from the side of your face and hanging up before she could finish her sentence.

A miserable chuckle escaped your mouth as you took note of the thick clouds hanging over the sky and brought your feet up on the bench, hugging your knees and resting your back against the wood. You weren’t sure why you expected anything else.

You thought perhaps moving across the country to a big city would put an end to the dread of a thousand tomorrows, none of them promising any semblance of change, but the truth was you never felt more alone than when you were standing in the midst of a busy crowd surrounded by towering skyscrapers and blinding lights—a single drop in the ocean.

There was no way to describe it other than a vice on your heart, squeezing with just enough pressure to be a constant, dull ache. A black hole that threatened to swallow every part of you until all that was left was a human shaped shell, too numb to feel the pain anymore.

There were nights you unwillingly let it control you, and all you could do in those long hours was find an enclosed place to shake until the tears subsided. The vast, open darkness in front of you made you wonder just how many people were out there feeling the same way you did.

Some old acquaintances had promised to stay in touch, yet what you heard from them was comparable to radio silence, their smiles and efforts merely pixelated and small yellow faces that stopped coming whenever your world fell apart—which was often.

Trudging to get past each day made you realize just how much of your world had revolved around one person—one last connection with a life that used to be. You couldn’t tell her when your local tea shop came out with her favorite lychee drink, when you listened to a song that reminded you of her, how you saw someone on the subway reading a book she had recommended you, or how you overheard a couple arguing over the proper way to load a dishwasher, the very thing you had repeatedly bickered about as college roommates.

And now that she was no longer in this life, you were constantly questioning your purpose, even occasionally wondering if you were meant to be alone. Was this what the universe had planned for you? You weren’t sure you believed in multiple soulmates, so what happened when yours left you?

If you miss me, just look at the stars. She would always sign the text with a ‘;)’ at the end and you would mock her with a scoff, replying with or I could just call you, dumbass.

Without realizing, you were already bringing up your history of text messages with her, scrolling through the endless one-sided green texts, each decorated with a delivery error message. Your fingers were hovering over the keyboard while the pulsing blue line stared back at you.

“Where are you?” you were wailing out, wincing subsequently at the unexpected echo and crack in your voice. The thundering in the distance seemed to answer you, but you wished the stars were out so that you’d at least know she was watching over you. You couldn’t help but feel that the cloudy skies meant she couldn’t see you, or worse, look out for you. A droplet landed on your cheek and your eyelids fluttered shut at the feeling. You weren’t sure if they were your tears or hers.

It was the end of the week and you somehow found yourself making your way up the mountainous roads again, remembering coming home last time with extraordinary peace of mind despite the frazzled state you arrived in. You weren’t sure what it was, but it was pushing you to get out of the city once again.

The air was noticeably cooler than it had been last week, and you were scanning your backseat for any signs of a sweater, sighing inwardly when you found none. It was warm when you left your office earlier in the evening and you mentally cursed at yourself for not checking the weather yet again.

You contemplated staying in the car with the heat on, but a glimpse of your glowing fuel light had you rolling your eyes in disappointment for being so forgetful and inattentive on top of the countless other flaws you felt you carried.

You were making your way toward the empty bench again, spotting the camper van in the same parking spot. You assumed it hadn’t moved since the last time you were here, most likely having been abandoned. There were considerably fewer clouds in the sky today and you beamed at the view of the small specks of white splattered against the darkness.

“Give me a sign that it’ll all be okay, please,” you spoke while eyeing the stars above you, some brighter than others. Your hair flew in the wind, draping across your face as goosebumps formed on your arms as you prepared to let the rest of your thoughts out. You didn’t remember closing your eyes, but the sound of footsteps approaching had you instinctively opening them and straightening your back and you suddenly felt a weight on your shoulders, gasping to find someone draping their flannel jacket over you.

“Sorry if I scared you,” he spoke against the wind. “You seemed cold.” A boy, now in a plain black shirt, was making his way around the other side of the bench to sit down next to you. He left considerable space between the two of you, which you were silently thankful for.

You spun around to see where he had parked, not having noticed another car arrive and when you saw nothing but your own car and the camper van, you felt a chill run down your spine. Alarm bells should’ve been going off in your head, but you were seemingly more concerned with the fact that he had most likely seen you in your most vulnerable state, crying out into the open void like a lunatic, not only once, but twice now.

When he felt you staring, he turned his head only to briefly make eye contact with you before glancing back down at his lap. His skin was a pretty shade of olive, the tip of his nose illuminated by the hazy moonlight. You took in the rest of his appearance—worn sneakers with one of the laces untied, ripped jeans, and shaggy hair that covered his eyes, and you found yourself resisting the urge to run your fingers through his locks.

“Why do you keep coming here?” he was asking, picking his head up once more to look at you.

You weren’t so sure yourself. Maybe it was the fact that this was the only place where you didn’t have to pretend. You didn’t know if you wanted to talk to her, to yourself, or to the universe in general; you didn’t know if you wanted to scream or cry or sit in complete silence. All you knew was that after a particularly bad day at work, you were taking the exit off the highway without thinking, almost as if you had taken this same exit a hundred times before.

“I could ask you the same,” you chuckled. There was an awkward pause, and you were realizing that he wasn’t going to answer you.

“I’m here to u-uh, stargaze.” You were telling the truth, at least partially.

“Stargazing’s not the best here, with the light pollution and all,” he replied. You hummed, unsure how to respond. He noticed your hesitation and was rubbing his palms against the black denim of his jeans before clearing his throat.

“‘m Heeseung, by the way.” At first, Heeseung found himself slightly annoyed at the fact that you had disrupted his peace and not-so-secret hideout spot, observing you from his van while you mumbled to yourself on the bench.

“I travel in my van, but ‘m running low on money.” He was rubbing the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed to admit the fact. “The parking here’s free, so…” he trailed off, regretting it immediately after stating the obvious.

As he got a better look at your face up close, he saw that a small frown seemed semi-permanently etched on your face, which he could tell you were hopelessly attempting to correct as he studied you. A wave of guilt washed over him upon registration of his untimely intrusion, realizing that you would probably prefer to be alone right now due to the blatant evidence that you were pretending to look less dejected in front of him.

You were briefly introducing yourself as someone new to the city, not knowing what else was interesting about you and accidentally slipping in the fact that you ‘didn’t really have any friends’, teeth chattering slightly even with his jacket resting over your frame.

“Did you want to sit in my van instead?” Your frown was faltering when your lips parted in surprise at his request. He contemplated adding a lighthearted comment about not being a serial killer to reassure you, but you were already trailing behind him as he stood up. You could tell he was tall when his legs were stretched out next to yours while sat next on the bench, but he was even taller than you’d imagined when he was standing up, even with a slight hunch in his posture.

Heeseung peered over his shoulder to catch you struggling to keep up with his longer strides, still clutching onto the collar of his jacket over your right shoulder and he let a soft smile adorn his face as he slowed his pace to match yours. He was rounding the front of his van to open the passenger side door for you but you were already cutting in front of him, hopping up on the door sill clumsily.

You let yourself into the passenger side, holding the jacket out to Heeseung who was still staring at you through the driver side window. He opened the door and pulled himself into the seat, reluctantly taking the jacket from you and tossing it on some unknown surface of the van behind him.

He turned on the ceiling light of his van and began blasting the heat after noticing that you were sitting on the backs of your hands. His fingers were fiddling with the knobs on the CD player to turn on soft, lullaby-like piano music and you made a poor attempt at stifling a laugh. For some reason, you expected him to be into rock music and found the unexpected contrast endearing.

Heeseung shot you a confused look at the sound and you simply shook your head and waved it off, a small smile still playing on your lips. You couldn’t put your finger on what it was, but you felt a strange sense of comfort in his presence.

For the first time that night, you were taking a closer look at his features. Underneath his bangs were eyes that carried both fervor and innocence and lips that were held in a constant, soft pout. He was chewing on his bottom lip, eyes darting around the space in front of him at the feeling of you staring at him so intently. He shook his head so that his bangs were falling over his eyes again in one swift movement before thinking of something to say to take your attention off his face.

“I dropped out of college when I was 18,” he was muttering, trying to gauge your reaction from his peripheral view before continuing. “And then I ran away from home to travel.” He was leaving out key details like the fact that he didn’t necessarily run away from home with the goal of traveling but instead began traveling because he simply had nowhere else to go.

When he came home after his first semester with an official diagnosis from his university’s health center, his family refused to let him seek therapy or any other form of help. With a father who was never home and a mother who went as far as threatening to disown him if he didn’t return to school the following semester, Heeseung wasn’t left with much of a choice.

You were surprised that he was even sharing this much with you. Your heart tightened at the thought of him being alone in the world at such a young age and his lack of a support system, seemingly more alone than you were. He was considerably better than you at concealing his loneliness and you hated that fact, not because you wanted to be better at it but because you knew just how much effort it took.

Heeseung could barely remember what it was like to have his father around, the only seemingly harmonious moments spent with him before he started grade school fleeting and long forgotten. The bulk of his adolescence was spent resenting his father for the way he treated his mother, where his father would appear through the front door every few months or so in one of his drunken episodes, an empty bottle of liquor already in hand.

He almost always knew when it was happening, the rummaging through the cabinets and refrigerator for alcohol reverberating through the house and to his room. He couldn’t understand why his mother wouldn’t stop restocking the house with it or why she wouldn’t change the locks or take his father’s keys or even file for a divorce, and he couldn’t help but despise her weakness and inability to stop pitying her husband.

“Look who decided to finally show up for his mother,” the older man seethed, breath reeking from the drunken stench.

A particularly loud argument had Heeseung flying down the stairs, the sound of a glass bottle breaking causing his mother to let a scream out of her mouth. He took in his father’s appearance, unshaven and eyes bloodshot with a lazy smirk playing on his lips. A look off to the side at his mother with tears streaming down her cheeks was suddenly leading to punches being thrown and knuckles growing bloodied. A harsh shove from his father caused him to lose his balance and tumble onto the wooden floor.

“Maybe ask yourself why you’re defending a fucking cheater instead,” his voice boomed through the living room. A puzzled expression took over Heeseung’s face as he turned toward his mother who winced both at the sound of her husband slamming the door as he left and the way her son ran his tongue over his busted lip, eyes beginning to gloss over.

After finally grasping the fact that his mother was not the person she made herself out to be and what pushed his father over the edge over ten years ago, Heeseung, who had always stuck close to her growing up, attempting to make up for the lack of his father’s presence, began growing increasingly distant from her as he finished his final years of high school. The very thing he swore he wouldn’t touch in his life was the only thing he took with him and stashed in his van the night he left.

He was wrapping his hand around the nearly empty beer can in his cup holder from the thought of his childhood memories and shooting a pained expression your way at the paled look on your face, eyes pooling with concern and he tried to perceive it as anything but pity.

“I honestly don’t mind it much,” he was saying, but an unfamiliar look was flashing across his eyes and even though you barely knew him, you felt like you could see right through him.

He was redirecting his gaze out the windshield. He had used the North Star almost as a source of direction in his travels for the past few years, as cliche as it sounded. Tonight was the first night it was visible in the two weeks he had been parked here, deciding to camp out in the deserted park until it reappeared and he had saved enough money from his part-time job in the city.

The North Star appeared noticeably brighter tonight, a beacon in the middle of the night shrouded in shadows and Heeseung was suddenly wondering whether it was a coincidence that you were here with him at this very moment, whether you were the very person who hung the North Star for him in the night sky, guiding him toward a purposeful destination, or whether you were the destination itself. He was shaking his head at the intrusive thought as you followed his line of sight.

The heat blowing throughout the van was fogging up the windows and blocking up your view of what he seemed to be focusing his gaze on. Heeseung watched as you turned in your seat, moving your body to face the passenger window with one leg folded up on the cushion. You were bringing your fingers up to touch the glass, slowly drawing a heart with your index finger and peering through the clear traces at the sky.

Heeseung, nowhere near intoxicated from his built up tolerance over the years, took one last sip of his drink, still not taking his eyes away from your side profile and subtle movements as you immersed yourself in your own world for the second time that night. He was turning to his own window to mirror your actions, outlining a much sloppier heart on the glass. By the time he finished and spun around to face you, you were already watching him with a beam, the apples of your cheeks rosy.

You were suddenly bursting into laughter, your brain on autopilot as you leaned over the center console to fix his drawing. You were practically pushed up against him with your hand resting on his thigh as you drew over his sketch on the window, adding a dozen more hearts around the first and filling up the rest of the fogged glass with your doodles. Heeseung was noticeably stiffening under you, attempting to distract himself from his quickening heart rate by picking at the fraying of his jeans on the leg you weren’t perched on.

You leaned back to admire your silly artwork for a few seconds before glancing over at him and noticing Heeseung’s eyelashes fluttering delicately, still reeling from the sudden physical contact. Upon noticing the close proximity, you were removing your hand from his lap and bringing it back into your own, leaning into the seat again and you could feel the heat evident on your face, knowing it must’ve been even more apparent to him. He was no better at concealing his own expressions as his sheepish smile faltered, feeling abnormally disappointed in the sudden loss of contact.

Still in a daze, Heeseung was reaching behind him to grab a can of beer, holding it out in front of you while his eyes were trained on the single heart drawn on the passenger side window. He held back a grimace as he realized that he’d done so without thinking, hoping you hadn’t caught on to his dependency. You accepted his offer without hesitation, wiping the rim of the opening with the bottom of your shirt and popping open the tab, taking gulps at a much faster speed than you were normally used to.

Your head was still spinning with the thought and feeling of the burn of your fingertips against his thigh. You both drifted into a comfortable silence, the music no longer playing since the CD player in his rundown van didn’t have the ability to auto loop tracks or albums and the hammering of his heart against his chest seemed almost too loud for you not to notice. Heeseung thought about taking out the disk and replacing it but decided against it, not wanting to disrupt the stillness of the air around you.

Your lips formed a small frown as you saw clouds beginning to shape. You thought it was the alcohol deceiving you, but you blinked a few times and the clouds were still there.

“I hate the rain because it means I can’t see her. It makes me think that she’s crying,” you suddenly whispered, breaking the silence. You could feel his gaze fall to you as he fell out of his trance, but he didn’t ask who, just simply nodded.

His reaction made you freeze in your spot, realizing you had most definitely overshared beyond an imaginary boundary. You almost wanted to apologize for it before you were saying the next thing that came to your mind.

“Have you ever fallen in love?” you were abruptly blurting out.

He was quirking his brow in amusement. “Come on, I can barely fall asleep,” he laughed softly but not without a somewhat pained expression behind his eyes. You had assumed it was a joke, but the sincerity in the way he observed you told you it wasn’t. Your eyes widened before you were nodding softly and returning a weak smile, taken aback by his confession.

“Don’t worry about it,” he was brushing it off. “You?”

You were staring out the windshield again for a few moments, lost in your thoughts before responding, “A lot of unrequited love, if that counts.”

You began to explain how you had never been in a relationship, not because you didn’t want to, but because it was seemingly out of your control. You presumed that the time you spent on this earth loving romantically without any reciprocation had somehow altered your brain chemistry to truly believe that you were meant to be alone from the very beginning, and you were often wondering which would hurt more, to have had true love and lost it or to never have had it at all. Dwelling over the fact that you had already experienced some form of both made your situation seem all the more ridiculous.

It didn’t go unnoticed by him the way you were flighty in your thoughts, jumping to one without finishing the other. As a result of the accumulation of thoughts you created when you were alone, all the things you would talk to yourself about came spilling out.

Your mind went on talking even when you were alone. And when you ran out of storage, the thoughts needed to come out somehow. Partly due to your insecurities you hoped that by talking more, you’d be accepted and loved by someone—it hadn’t proved itself to be a successful method in the past and you weren’t sure it ever would be.

“I give, and give, and give. That’s all I do,” you continued, your voice now uneven and trembling slightly. “I give until I have nothing left. I’m terrified of the love I have because I know it will ruin me—it already has, and I know I will continue to let it.”

You were heaving out a sigh of relief at the massive weight being lifted off your chest, still feeling a sort of emptiness but a strangely pleasant lightness associated with it. Even then, you were perplexed by your own eagerness to share your entire life story to someone you met just hours ago, partially blaming the alcohol for how unfiltered you became and you couldn’t tell what Heeseung was thinking from the stoic look on his face and his big doe eyes blinking back at you.

It most definitely wasn’t a feeling of pity, that he knew. It felt almost like a weakness in the heart—like his heart wasn’t working properly—a fleeting lightness that passed through him, being simultaneously lulled to sleep by a single gesture and set on fire by your every touch.

Your eyes were glossed over, from your lengthy outpour or intoxicated state Heeseung wasn’t certain, but he held not a single ounce of doubt of the amount of love you held. Unsure of what came over him, he was resisting the urge to lean over and cup the sides of your face and tell you that even in his broken, wretched state, he was willing to accept anything you had to give and return everything and more.

“It’s really late. I can drive you home,” he was offering. He convinced you he was sobering up with a lazy smile plastered on his face, yet you couldn’t help raising your brows at the slight flush of his cheeks and numerous empty beer cans in the cup holder.

“I think I’d rather stay here,” you were speaking nonchalantly before turning to look at him with what Heeseung thought he saw were literal stars in your otherwise cloudy eyes. At the implication of your words, he could feel and hear his heart beating at a pace so fast it rang through his ears. As much of an open book as you were, he didn’t expect that from you and you even stunned yourself as the words left you, mouth now agape as you stared back at him.

You wanted to blame your lack of sobriety yet again but you knew that the flood of emotions had put your mind in a remarkable state of clarity. His calmness—how he listened and watched attentively without any questions, just simply looking at you with a fondness in his eyes—fastened you with a sense of immense trust in him.

Thankfully, he was quickly nodding and turning around to turn on the lights that lit up the rest of his van. In contrast to his somewhat rugged appearance, his space was neat and cozy and it amazed you how few belongings he had; everything fit in his van and there was almost no clutter. The only hint of personality and life you could find was the guitar hanging over the bed, and you were smiling to yourself knowing he at least had music to accompany him.

Heeseung had suggested cooking some ramen for you, but you simply shook your head with a sleepy smile and told him you weren’t hungry. He didn’t say anything as he clambered on top of his sheets and patted the spot next to him. There wasn’t much space in the van for anything other than a bed and a small stovetop and you were skeptical there would be enough room for you to both lay comfortably.

You fit yourself on the mattress between him and the back door while he crawled under the covers, pushing his pillow toward you behind your back and grabbing an extra one from beneath the bed for himself. You were still sat leaning against the side of the van as you contemplated your next move, wondering whether you should prioritize comfort or decency and you squirmed at the thought of your dirty jeans on someone else’s sheets.

A brief glance at Heeseung, who was lying on his back with his eyes closed and hands resting over his stomach, had you quickly tucking yourself under the blankets and unzipping your jeans, pulling them down and kicking them over your ankles. You were shuffling downward and placing the now folded jeans beside your pillow, facing away from Heeseung as you pulled the covers up to your chest.

You couldn’t tell but Heeseung had visibly stiffened, eyebrows now slightly furrowed in concentration as he attempted to fall asleep, willing himself to think about anything other than you and your presence inches away from him. He was staring at the ceiling, breath uneven at how you were so similar in the way you craved connection yet different in the sources of your troubles and the way you coped—one capable of giving anything and one who didn’t know how to give at all.

You felt the bed dip and you could hear Heeseung shuffling around behind you, his heavy breathing against your neck telling you he was now facing you, and still lying on your side when you felt his fingers graze across your hip bone.

The heat radiating off his body behind you was seeping into your own skin, slowly building into a burn before you were flipping yourself over to face him and immediately thrown off by just how close he was. A slight lean forward from either of you would close the gap, and your eyes were unconsciously flickering down to his lips at the thought.

You were pulling yourself flush against him, savoring the feeling of your bodies pressed so closely together, resting your head in the crook of his neck and he let out a sharp gasp from above you. You could feel his heart beating underneath your palms as you moved your hands across the expanse of his chest. A slight crane of your neck and you were tentatively placing your lips against his jaw, a shaky breath of Heeseung’s fanning your face from the action.

As your kisses moved from his jaw down to his neck, his mouth was parting softly, lifting his head into the pillow to provide you with more access. One particularly harsh suck against his collarbone had him surging forward for more, latching onto the hem of your shirt and fingers hesitantly grazing the waistband of your underwear.

Heeseung was then leaning forward onto his elbows, the hand that was previously slotted between your bodies wrapping around your shoulder to pull you up and level to him, bringing you into a gentle kiss that caused the hairs on your arms to raise.

It overwhelmed you how thrilling yet calming it felt to be kissing him. You were completely drinking him in, the touch of his skin against yours heating up the pits of your stomach and causing shivers to wrack through you and simultaneously taking your mind off of everything else.

He was gentle with his touch, but his lips were rough and chapped and he was kissing you with so much longing and desperation that for a second, you contemplated whether this was his first time kissing someone, craving any and every bit of physical contact. You quickly dismissed the thought as he took advantage of your inattentiveness with a swipe of his tongue against your bottom lip, your lips parting slightly, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth skillfully.

Your stomach churned and you were writhing under his touch from the way your tongues intertwined, a pit of heat rising in your lower stomach. Heeseung was letting out a choked whimper at the feeling of your hands reaching underneath his shirt, smoothing over the skin of his stomach.

“You okay?” you were whispering as you pulled back, hands coming up to cup his cheeks. He held your gaze for a few seconds, both delicacy and sharpness etched in his features, before his lashes fluttered and he was shaking his head, burying it in your neck. Your hands were sliding along his scalp to soothingly stroke his hair, heart aching at the vulnerability and rawness with which he looked at you.

It wasn’t clear whether the cause of his feverish state was from the simple presence of you in his arms, but something told you that you should’ve seen it coming when the way he looked at you gradually began changing as the hours progressed.

You were pulling back and placing one last, soft kiss against his lips, lingering for a few moments too long before wrapping your arms around his torso in a tight embrace and rubbing his back gingerly.

Heeseung was redirecting his attention out at the sky through the back window, foolishly looking for you and him in the stars. Some stars gradually dim and lose their luster, and on a rainy night, you might never see them again.

You weren’t thinking about what would happen when the stars faded and the sun rose, or when you would see him again—you didn’t need to see him or be physically near him to feel him. Your subconscious was finding comfort simply from the feeling of his chest pressed against yours, your thumb rubbing circles over his shirt while you listened to Heeseung's soft breathing and the sound of the rain beginning to fall against the windows.

A/N: the bolded quote is based on something I saw on twitter: “I’m scared of the love I have for you. Because I know it will ruin me. And I also know that I will let it. I love hard.” but I couldn’t find the source, so credits to the original owner.

#enhypen #heeseung #lee heeseung #heeseung angst #heeseung smut #enhypen angst #enhypen smut #lee heeseung smut #lee heeseung angst #heeseung x reader #heeseung imagine #heeseung scenario #enhypen imagine #enhypen scenario #enhypen heeseung #heeseung hard hours #lee heeseung imagine

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pinazee · 8 days

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Bounty Hunters!

I just find it so adorable when a kid has bright ass food stains on them. Its like the essence of childhood or something more poetic haha also, this might sound insane, but this is the first ep i could feel that shawn and gus had been friends since childhood. Possibly because they’re nearly wearing the exact same shirts and at the same steps so the parallel is a lot more obvious. Like it just clicked in my brain or something.

I just really liked this shot. That is all.

Shout out to James and Dulés’ stunt double

This is one of those times i don’t envy actors. This looks so uncomfortable. Also, i can’t decide if it’s naivety or arrogance that Shawn would think he could go into this bar and be okay?? I guess you can assume that Shawn knew Tancana would stop them before they caused any serious damage but that one guy was about to hit him with a chain, and its one thing to go into this on your own, its another to bring your friend with you.

A+ scene work from Corbin Bernsen here lol

This is what I do to get my dog to stop eating her toys. Doesn’t work with her either.

One of the few times Shawn kind of loses it with Gus and has to recollect himself haha. Like he’s been frustrated sure, but he usually applies some sort of manipulation. But i really like this scene because usually its Gus thats frustrated with Shawns behavior.

Sidenote: about the super sniffer. I don’t think its that he can smell things others can’t, because Shawn usually points it out and can recognize it, i think the super sniffer is that Gus can break the smell down and put a name to it. Like the gardenias in the perfume, the ginger blossoms in the kangaroo paste. Shawn just knows its kangaroo paste. Idk, i had to think about it at least haha

What a goof. But also, ive started watching Gus while shawns doing his breakdowns and he’s like miming beside him haha if i see it in a later ep i’ll gif it.

Its kind of insane that Bird hands over Tancana and this supposedly alleviates Juliets guilt? Like i get the line she says we all make mistakes as a way of saying Juliet’s forgiven herself, but um, she didn’t really do anything. I wish instead they would have had Shawn notify the cops where he’d be, have lassie ignore him per usual, but let juliet take off on her own (against orders) and save them from bird that way (possibly at the parking garage). This way we can see that she can still rely on her gut and it isn’t handed to her by shawn, kind of like the If You’re So Smart ep, when he solved her case and its somehow a win for her. Its still a sweet gesture that Shawn was cool semi-risking his life (and gus’s for that matter) so she can “save” them and get her good reputation back, even if it doesn’t quite make sense haha

The near kiss was perfection! I think a full kiss would have been too soon, particularly because Juliet was pretty vulnerable just then and it wouldn’t feel right. But the fact that it made juliet nervous enough to start dismantling her gun like she’d been doing all day- fantastic way to gain insight into to her mind and give us the audience hope that the ship would exist. She seems pretty conflicted about him (i think mainly because she doesn’t date coworkers?). I mean, from her perspective, she only know him as immature, irresponsible to a degree, who relentlessly flirts, BUT at the same time is incredibly kind and fun. I would have some hesitation too. Being kind and fun will only get you so far, in my book at least. I also need someone i can rely on to do the boring grown up stuff so im not solely responsible and Shawn just doesn’t come across as someone who can do that (yet). And not to spoil it, but in the bank robbery ep, we learn Juliet likes them mature.

okay. I don’t think this is going to be a popular opinion (just to prepare you mentally) cause i believe everyone loves this scene, and don’t get me wrong i love it too, i just think it doesn’t quite fit in the ep? Like i know shawn was flirty with jules the whole time, and he’s trying to impress her, but it was always jokey and they didn’t really have a solid heart to heart moment, and it pulls away from what Juliet was going through. I think if he’d consoled her a bit, let her know that a mistake is inevitable and assuming that she wouldn’t make any was setting her up to fail, that she was still the smartest, and bravest cop on the force and she should remember that the next time that voice in her head says differently, then he could maybe go for the kiss. Maybe. I think I would’ve preferred it if he’d just consoled her and she was the one who went to kiss him but changed her mind at the last second and thats how we get close talking. Because she wants to kiss him, but at the end of the day she’s pragmatic.

(I just want to quickly add that i by no means think i can write these better. This is just fun for me to put my own little spin on it. I also know other factors go into making a show (time, budget etc) so there are things writers wanted to include that would have improved their eps but said factors forced them to make changes. I don’t want these little opinionated changes i’d make to come across as mean spirited or arrogant. They’re more like responses to a writing prompt if that makes sense.)

#took a little longer to post this one. i was quite conflicted.#also i got really into another fandom haha #psych tv #psych rewatch #psych usa #psych #shawn spencer #burton guster #james roday rodriguez #james roday #dulé hill #dule hill #juliet o'hara #shules #maggie lawson #carlton lassiter #timothy omundson #henry spencer #corbin bernsen

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thedisablednaturalist · 8 months

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Office disability culture is so fucked in environmental science and fieldwork. Like the mindset that to do the job you have to be in perfect physical health or you should just quit. Like I'm not talking about something that is 100% physical labor here, everything is mostly achievable with aids and you don't need to be able to do every single thing. But there's this weird like..pride..that my older coworkers have. They work out in the gym and brag about how many reps they did. They tease each other for having medical issues. They don't ask for accommodations because they fear that their legitimacy will be hurt. That it means that they can't do their job anymore. That they won't be TRUSTED to do their jobs anymore. That it will get taken away.

So they FURTHER hurt their bodies by not resting, not taking breaks, not using ergonomic equipment, not using safety equipment. Not drinking enough water. Not using mobility aids when they are so old that it's supposed to be acceptable. They don't use the scooters at the grocery store, they don't use their handicapped placard, they don't use knee pads or compression gloves.

And here I come in, 24 years old, looking perfectly healthy. And I use walking sticks, I sit down a lot, I have my care bag, I have a ton of gadgets for making fieldwork more comfortable, I have boundaries and limits, I wear braces and knee pads and compression gloves. I use my handicapped placard.

They react in one of two ways:

1. How DARE I. I'm so lucky to be young and no one sees THEM having to do all those things (literally nothing is stopping them but pride). Like old man if you need a break take a fucking break. I'm not going to hurt my health to make you feel better about hurting yours. I'm not risking a flare up to spare the 65 year olds feelings. Im gonna take my break and use my equipment cause my boss doesn't care as long as the work gets done. I'm tired of glares from 100 year olds making themselves struggle across the parking lot when they could also be using the fucking scooter. (I never take the last scooter, there's always another available. Also it's not my fault if walmart only provides 2 scooters for the whole store).

2. It shows them its okay. Its okay to need aids. When I first showed up at my job it was very...macho..everyone was afraid of seeming old (theres probably only 3 of us under 30 in the whole department, most people are at least 50, mainly 65 year olds). Then they saw me using my walking sticks, taking my medicine openly, bringing a chair with me when working away from my desk, using my TENS unit. I overheard one lady ask her granddaughter what fibromyalgia was (apparently she had spotted my pain tracking journal).

My older coworker with a bad knee got a walking stick like mine and beamed when she showed me. The grandmother uses a cane and a walker interchangeably and more often. I get asked where I get my little portable fan and pocket heaters and special clothing. Even abled coworkers are doing it. My coworker who's younger than me sets alarms to take breaks now just like I do. People seem more comfortable using things that help them now.

My boss has really struggled. He has a lot of internalized ableism and hates thinking of himself as crippled. He spent his whole life physically active and strong and all these health issues and overexertion are catching up with him. Like he did environmental testing in areas with fucking radon. He did work where they threw asbestos around like snow for fun. He's done a ton of really hard physical work. He grew up with the mentality that pain was just something everyone has to push through. But I think seeing a young person make the choice not to push through is helping him a bit. He wants to make his own walking stick, he goes to the doctor more. We bond over having constant medical issues and I even gave him the name of my surgeon. Yea he still says stuff like "shoot me if I have to use a wheelchair" (not as much anymore since he now knows I use one) but he's getting there.

Yeah so I've had this in my drafts for a bit and I wanted to update that my boss has been walking around with a fucking broken ankle for the past couple of weeks. He thought it was just arthritis pain and eventually couldn't take it anymore and went to the foot doctor. The doctor has no clue how the fuck he's been walking on it. Now he has to wear the boot and he's banned from fieldwork while he heals.

Older people and the elderly need to learn that it's okay to not push through the pain and ask for help. Everyone needs to learn this, and not be like my fucking boss. Go to the doctor, get that sore joint checked out. Get those tests done. Use that aid. Stop walking on a broken ankle just because you can.

#chronic disability #chronic pain #spoonie #disability #from the field #wrenfea.exe #literally fucking flabbergasted #he walked in after leaving for a bit to go to his appointment and came back like so yeah my ankles been broken #BUDDY #everyone needs help sometimes you dont deserve to be in pain #like thats some catholic guilt shit im pretty sure #this man has had 4 major back surgeries so i guess a broken ankle is nothing compared to that #but still...jesus fucking christ #not sprained..BROKEN #and thats along with all the rest of the pain hes in #like i get being used to pain but if i stub my toe during a flare up I can't handle it because it pushes my pain level over the edge #so it actually makes me less tolerable since im already in pain #but im used to a higher pain level than abled people are #ok im done rambling for now im gonna go play Minecraft

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mismatcheddotcom · 8 months

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Advice I don't want to get anymore part 1

Less is more.

I'm single. I've been working to change that for let's say the bulk of the last twelve months. Tried going out, ordering in, apps, clubs, friends, family jk... unless? Step bro No!

Anyway it didn't work. And people have been telling me basically the same thing. Do less.

I know why. I'm putting in a lot of effort and getting no where. Might as well go no where with minimal effort, save myself the strain. Of course they're not pessimistic about it. Some people believe in an axiom that annoys me to no end.

"Once you stop looking you'll find someone."

This advice doesn't apply to literally anything else in the known world and it's unbelievable that it's given so often in this exclusive context. Ruling out non-social fields (imagine telling a person out of a job to stop looking) it just doesn't make any sense when you consider the most common form of advice for other social relationships between adults: FRIENDS!

The thing most people struggle with in life post school is making friends as an adult. And the most common advice is "DO STUFF!" Throw parties, hang out, go do things, join clubs, go to bars, go to parks, talk to trees, hug a tree, chain yourself to the tree to prevent the destruction of the park, talk to your cellmates about your life outside. Learn to live again as a free person.

But seriously though. The advice to form a connection as an adult with others is to be socially active and engaged in things which will put other people also engaged in those thing in your orbit. People connect they get involved and boom friends. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it fails, but on average moderate success.

Yet the other significant social relationship adults make has to be found a totally other way. We have (as the advice goes) not look for it, to find it. In other words, don't seek out people on apps (which at this point is fine) don't ask your hot coworker if he has any gay brothers (which okay yeah that wasn't advisable either) but it's just backwards!

And I do know. Or at least I know why people tell me in particular not to do so much. Cause of the stench of desperation. This odor is for traveling, potent, and lasting. It will repel people even unconsciously. So there's this desire among people to appear so casual and so not labored about dating that there is no stink of wanting it too much.

But here's the thing. This model relies on people shifting somewhere along the lines into someone who does want to do the work. And if I've learned one thing about people, it's that change is hard. And, it's more unlikely the older a person gets.

So me? I'm stuck between authentically wanting something and trying to signal that in a way that doesn't scare people off. Or just stop looking until someone finds me. But that's the most sinister part of this advice. At its core it assumes that if you keep this desire to be together with someone it'll shift you from being perused to pursued. But at the end of the day someone has to make a fucking move or no one is going to be friends, or dating, or anything more that workplace similtanious coffee havers.

Someone somewhere is going to have to do the work. And I personally have never met a couple that wasn't better served by both people doing a fair share of it.

So while I know that the "do less crowd" wants me to chill out to not appear desperate, or stop exhausting myself, or just sit and wait for someone to open my glass coffin in the woods. I think it's bad advice.

#bad advice #dating #gay #gay dating #modern love

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gucciwins · 3 years

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Trouble Follows

Harry’s a firefighter, he believes in accidents not coincidences but that changes when he meets Y/N multiples times at different calls.

Word count: 8128

A/N: Hello friends, hope you’re well. life has been eventful since the start of the year but when is it not. first story of 2021 and i’m excited to share it. i started this story a few months back (yes chicago fire was an inspiration). firefighter!harry is dear and near to my heart. i do hope you love it and let me know you thoughts. happy reading

It's the start of a twenty-four-hour shift.

A day that feels like it may never end until it does.

Harry's in the common room with the crew. He's got his black coffee, his first of many for the day, and the morning's paper that Lincoln dropped on the table. There isn't anything impressive; he grabs a pen he sees on the table and begins to do the crossword puzzle.

10 letters

1. down - crater creator.

Harry's already lost, and it is only the first one.

He's not good at them, not one bit. Sarah always ends up finishing the crosswords.

The chatter is loud, and as he slides the newspaper down to Mitch, who will silently hand it over to Sarah. Harry likes the morning buzz; everyone catches up from not seeing each other for forty-eight hours. Although, many do see each other, seeing as they are roommates. Harry used to live with Mitch until he moved in with Sarah last fall after two years of dating. Mitch told him there might be a wedding in the future or, as Sarah likes to joke about all the time, an elopement.

"Morning, H.," Wilson says, patting his shoulder, making his way to the empty coffee awaiting him. Harry knows they are seconds away from an outburst. Wilson can be just a tad bit dramatic.

The alarms begin to ring as he lifts up the empty pot. "Truck 51, Squad 3, 62, Battalion 25, Ambulance 62 House fire at 5082 North Bell Ave."

"Looks like we were saved by the bell." Lincoln laughs as they all rush out to get dressed and on the truck as quick as they can.

Harry and Mitch are out in seconds, never one to lollygag. The rest are quick to follow, slipping on their pants, and the coat quickly follows. Harry looks around, making sure everyone is accounted for before jumping into his spot in the passenger seat, Wilson at the wheel pulling out of the station with the siren blaring.

He watches the city go by as they rush to their destination. There is a lot heard of trees they pass by, and he knows they are passing the city park that is always filled with laughter and Harry knows they will be arriving soon, and as always, he prepares for the worst but hopes for the best.

They arrive in under ten minutes. It's a nice residential area, one that doesn't make frequent calls. The fire seems under control, not growing, but there is a lot of smoke. "Frankie, Lincoln, make sure these people stay back."

"You got it, Lieutenant," Lincoln responds quickly, getting to work, Frankie following right behind him.

Harry spots an old woman being held up by a young female his age. The old woman looks distraught by the fire, and Harry knows this must be the owner.

"Ma'am, I'm Lieutenant Styles. Can you tell me what happened?" He approaches, voice firm, ready to take in the needed information.

"She inhaled a lot of smoke. Can your paramedic check her out?" Harry's eyes shift to the woman. She's beautiful; she's in grey sweats and an oversized sweater that has what he assumes is Pascal from Tangled coming out of the pocket. Harry shakes his thoughts away, focusing back on her catching her last words. "Still in shock."

"Sarah," Harry calls out once, and she is quick to rush over. They set the old woman on the stretcher and quickly put an oxygen mask over her.

"Miss, may you tell me what you know. That way, we figure out the best way to get this fire out."

She's quick to nod. "Of course, I was on my way over to check on Mrs. Waters like I do every morning, but this time was different. Earl, her next-door neighbor, was outside calling 9-1-1. He told me he didn't see her run out. I rushed in to see her standing on the top steps of her staircase, staring into the burning room. She was coughing a lot, and I rushed her out. She thinks she knocked the candle down in her knitting room when she went down for her tea." She says all that in one breath. "The room is the first door on the left up the stairs. It's the back of the house."

Harry nods at her before turning away. "Mitch, you and Wilson take the hose through the side gate. Spray the room; it's a candle fire. Once it's out, let me know, so we can go in for a sweep through."

"Yes, Lieutenant."

Harry sees Mrs. Waters has begun to calm down and has the color back in her face. He knows they are going to take her down to Med to do a run-through. Harry turns around to speak with the young woman, but he doesn't see her anymore.

He's about to ask Sarah when he sees Chief Rivera run into a sprint and catches her in his arms. He didn't notice she began to walk away from him and over to the other pedestrians to assure them everything was alright. Harry yells for Esme, worried for the woman.

"I'm good." She barely makes out. "Think the adrenaline has run its course. That's all. I didn't even inhale that much smoke."

Chief Rivera ignores her protests and sets her on the side of the ambulance. "Please check her out." He directs his orders to Esme.

"Thanks for saving me, Mr. Chief. That would have led to a nasty concussion." Pascal sweater answers.

Chief gives her a quick nod before walking away.

"Miss, what's your name," Esme asks her. Putting an oxygen mask over her face and resting it on her nose and mouth. She takes a deep breath before answering.

"Y/N."

Beautiful name. It suits her.

"Do your lungs hurt or your chest?"

"No, do you think I can ride with Mrs. Waters?" Y/N interrupts Esme with an apologetic smile. "It's just that her granddaughter is her last living relative and lives an hour away. Her husband passed away four months ago. I'm all she's got."

"We've got room for you," Sarah responds, always having a soft spot even though you wouldn't know from her tough exterior.

Harry walks away, not hearing the rest of the conversation but feeling good that both are okay. He thinks she's crazy for rushing into a burning building with nothing on her to protect her, but he does this for a living, so who is he to judge?

Mitch gives him the all-clear.

Harry heads into the building with Frankie and Lincoln, no more thoughts of the beautiful girl he met.

He's got a job to do, and he has to do it right. They start in the living room before entering the kitchen, seeing dirty dishes in the sink and a plate of what looks like fresh banana bread. He's going to be left with that craving. Harry leads the way up, careful with the stairs just in case of collapse, seeing how black the once blue carpet has turned. There was a lot of damage, and it pains him to see such a well-loved house be affected this way.

"All clear!" He shouts, making sure Lincoln and Frankie head down before him.

Once back outside, Harry slips off his helmet. He nods over to Chief Rivera, who gives him a curt nod in return. He turns around to address the crew, "Pack it up." Everyone scatters to gather and put away their tools as quickly as they can.

All in a day's work, time to head back and hope each call is as successful as this one.

Harry might not tell anyone, but the woman Y/N stays on his mind all day.

Sitting in his office, getting paperwork done is not something he enjoys. He is good at it, though.

He's always thorough, a perfectionist.

It's essential because the Battalion Chief isn't kind at all, and even the smallest mistake on a report can send him on a full-on rage rampage. Thankfully, it's been a few months, and he is on his fourth wife stuck in the honeymoon phase, at least for the time being, giving them all some much-needed peace.

Harry has an open-door policy; he closes it; he feels he loses that connection to his friends. They may be coworkers, but after everything they have been through, he sees them as family, and one does not close the door on family.

It is also because he gets to hear all that's going on. Sarah and Mitch were going to visit his family in the upcoming month, and Sarah seemed far more excited than Mitch. Wilson had a new date lined up for the weekend to make up for the next few days he has to spend at work. Esme was talking Frankie's ear off about how she was knitting a new blanket for her niece and how each patch would be a different color with a different meaning.

He likes how well they all get on. Squad might keep their distance, but everyone does get along. It's not common in firehouses as he's heard from others. The hazing gets taken too far and ever a few male chauvinists. Don't worry, that isn't the one thing the Battalion Chief does not accept; he respects and loves women just doesn't like others' happiness.

Harry's proud of how far he has come, but most of the family he has become a part of. He knows how lucky he is. It also means he will never take it for granted.

They are his home away from home. Seeing as his family is an ocean away.

"Harry."

He looks up, seeing Mitch staring at him. "How can I help you, Mitchell?"

Mitch rolls his eyes, causing Harry to smirk. "Was wondering what you were doing after shift today?"

"Asking me on a date? Think Sarah might get jealous." Harry smirks at his best friend.

"It was her idea."

Harry smirks is replaced with a sincere smile. "Told you she has a soft spot for me."

"Dinner at my place? Have a few drinks, watch one of your favorite romantic comedies." Mitch suggests not at all like him to do so.

Harry was about to say yes when the alarm started ringing. "Truck 51, Squad 3, Battalion 25, Ambulance 62." A brief pause, "School fire 1260 West Adams."

"That's the small elementary school up the street," Harry tells him, shooting up from his chair and out the door to get in the protective gear.

Harry knows this fire won't be easy, but he's with the best of the best and knows it'll be alright. He knows they are approaching, and he always likes to go over how he wants things to be handled before getting out, but more significant fires need more focus. He also knows they all fall under the Chief's orders today and not his.

"Mitch and Wilson go in together. You know how it goes. Get everyone to head out, and our priority is getting the fire out" Harry looks back, getting a silent nod. "Candidate, how are you feeling?"

"Ready, Lieutenant." She answers confidently.

Harry gives her a sharp look, knowing he's got nothing to worry about her. Frankie is one of the best firefighters truck 51 has ever had. "Good, you'll be going in with Lincoln."

"What about you, Lieutenant?" Lincoln can't help but ask.

"I'm sure the Chief is going in. I'm going to stick with him." Harry knows his Chief well, and nothing will stop him from helping out.

Wilson parks right out front, and Harry can't see any smoke coming out. At least, not yet.

Harry is met with who he assumes is the principal; he didn't have time for an introduction. The woman explained there was a science lab gone wrong and that the sprinklers did not go off. They rushed everyone out quickly, following the fire drill procedures.

These kids are panicked but are being pointed towards an exit, and not until after the fire is controlled can they make sure everyone is counted for. Harry knows they have to work swiftly and make sure no one gets left inside.

A man with glasses and a smoked black salmon shirt approached them, and Harry assumed by the looks of it he was the teacher that was part of the fire. "The bunsen burner caught fire. I don't know why. We've done this experiment for years without accidents."

He eyes a few students wet and can assume the sprinklers went off much later than they would have liked. It means the fire has lessened, and it was safer to go in.

"We'll take care of it." He assures them.

"Get two hose lines in there." Chief Rivera directs right away. "Truck, Squad search, and evacuate. Let's go."

Everyone moves and begins to make their way into the burning building. It's a small two-story building; he sees frightened first graders to fifth graders watching him as he makes his way inside.

"Keep moving," Chief Rivera says to teachers ushering students out.

Harry knows Sarah and Esme have many people to look after and hope that more help can get there sooner rather than later.

As he makes his way inside, he feels the alarm ringing in his ears as he follows close behind Chief. It's something he's used to but doesn't mean he likes it.

"Fire department, call out," Harry shouts. He scans each room, not seeing anything and continuing on.

They make way to where the fire is, and it's growing.

Harry can see a bunsen burner tipped on its side. He takes a step towards the classroom and see's another tipped over but with a tear in it. It seems that one ripped and caught a spark setting the fire off.

"Chief, we need to get the gas off, or it'll only continue to grow." Harry looks over at Jorge, both waiting for the order to go in.

Chief speaks into his radio, asking where the gas shut off is located. Harry hears Florence recite back what a male voice told him to the Chief.

"Gas tank is in the backroom; it should shut it off. Be careful." His voice gruff.

"You got it."

Jorge leads, and Harry follows behind right on his heel. It only grows hotter as they make their way inside. He hugs the right side of the room, making sure to avoid the growing fire.

Jorge reaches to shut it when Harry notices a second one. "Jorge, there's two. We need to shut them at the same time." Harry hurries over. "Ready, turn!"

It clicks shut, and they let out a deep breath. Jorge pats Harry on the shoulder in acknowledgment.

"Let's head out. They need to hose this down."

Harry nods and follows him out, moving much faster this time. As quick as he was in the building, he now stands outside of it. He slips his helmet off, wanting to lose some pressure.

"Hey Chief, the fire's out." Lincoln comes out to inform.

Chief responds with a grunt, turning to the principal, holding a binder with lots of overflowing papers.

"What's the count?" Everyone holds their breath, waiting for the news. Squad prepared to go in if necessary.

"Everyone Is accounted for, Chief." She responds, a shaky smile on her face.

"Good."

Harry lets out the breath he was holding. There was no real injury today, and he is thankful for being burnt in a fire is not easy, and he knows that from experience.

His crew had begun to clean up already, and he was about to join when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turns to see a familiar woman but waits for her to speak; after all, she approached him.

"Hello, Lieutenant." She greets with a small smile. "There was no injury right. I checked over my students but want to know everyone else is safe."

"Injuries there were none unless you count Lincoln tripping into the truck on the way here." Harry jokes, not sure at all what made him break his seriousness.

She laughs. It's music to his ears.

He would enjoy being able to hear it again.

"Our team got everyone oxygen that needed it. The students and teachers are looking fine, and I assume parents have been informed of the incident."

"Called and picked up as soon as you clear out."

Harry stares at her for another second; she's wearing a lilac knitted sweater with bell-bottom jeans. He chuckles looks like he isn't the only one still wearing them out and about.

"You're from the North Bell fire," Harry tells her. He acts like her name slipped his mind, but that is the farthest thing from the truth. Her face and her name have not left his mind since that day. It's as if it has been imprinted.

"Yeah, Mrs. Waters. Good memory." She nods at him, obviously impressed. "She's good, staying with her granddaughter for the time being."

"That's nice to hear." Harry knows their conversation is coming to an end.

"Well, thank you for lessening my concern. Have a good day, Lieutenant Styles." She flashes him a broad smile, her eyes shining bright, keeping him entranced even after she walks away from him.

Harry watches her walk away, how she kneels down to talk to a young girl who was crying. Wipes her tears away with a handkerchief, she pulled out of her pocket. Little girl eventually laughs; it rings loud throughout the mess that way today; a child's laugh uplifting in a moment of darkness. It truly is the small things in life that should be appreciated.

His thoughts drift back to Y/N; what are the odds he runs into her just one week later.

She's pretty; he's not going to lie. He'd ask her on a date if he were to meet her at a bar, but no, never on the job.

If it's happened twice, maybe he's lucky enough for a third.

Although he hopes under better circumstances.

Harry had gone unbothered for over two hours, which is too long in the firehouse. He got the majority of his work done and decided to leave his office to find out what everyone was up to.

He was not surprised to see them in the common room, but he was shocked to see them all munching on cookies and not just any kind. They were snickerdoodle cookies, and they smelled divine like his mother had just taken them out of the oven with his watchful gaze eyeing every single one.

"Those smell amazing." Harry was quick to say eagerly, wanting someone to hand him one or five.

"Home-baked," Sarah calls out through a mouth full of cookies she was chewing.

Harry laughs because he knew that already. He reaches into the box in front of Mitch but is met with a slap on his wrist, and Harry quickly pulls back.

"Oi, that's not very kind of you, Mitchie."

Harry crosses his arms over his chest, but Frankie walks by a smaller box in hand, 'Lieutenant' written on top in elegant writing, and shoves it into his chest. He grabs it quickly, not wanting it to fall.

"Who brought them?" Harry asks because whoever baked something so heavily deserves all the praise, and he is more than ready to give it.

He opens his box and bites into the still-warm cookie. He holds back a moan, not up for the others teasing, but it truly is the best cookie he has ever eaten.

"It was the woman from the school fire, the one that approached you in the end," Sarah tells him, her hand reaches for a new cookie.

Harry frowns; she was here and missed her. No one thought to call him to come out.

If he is honest, he hasn't been able to get her off his mind. Two short interactions, and it is as if she has put him under a spell. He lets out a low chuckle at the thought.

He always tells others he has no time for a relationship, but the truth is he hopes for love. He just doesn't want it to be one night of passion. He wants endless nights, where it ends cuddling with the same person with constant whispers of I love you.

He's a hopeless romantic.

Harry would happily marry this woman. Although trouble does seem to follow her.

It might not be something he needs in life, especially in his line of work.

Golden's.

A safe haven.

A place that feels like home, where firefighters, paramedics, and doctors come for a drink and a good time. The perfect place to come drink away your sorrows with a shoulder to cry on in every corner—the ideal place to celebrate significant accomplishments with the friends that have slowly become your family.

Esme, a paramedic, and Jorge, a firefighter work at Firehouse 19 with Harry; they are the ones who opened up Golden's three years ago. Esme wanted a place to make creative drinks, and Jorge, well, he loved crunching numbers in his spare time, leading to this bar's birth.

Hanging on the walls are pictures of all their family and friends. Harry is proud to be displayed on the wall multiple times, and he loves each photo taken. His favorite being one that is hung right under what he calls his table. It's a photo of all of Firehouse 19 after he was made Lieutenant. Everyone in their uniforms dressed to the nines. Chief Rivera had the biggest smile on his face, as did Harry. Everyone around him had cheered for him, and they then all headed to Golden's for a celebration where his mother and sister were among his firehouse family. That picture always brings a smile to his face.

Harry sits there at his table with Mitch, his best friend, who he met entering the academy from the moment Harry said hello, and Mitch grunted in return he hasn't been able to shake Harry off, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

Harry has been told he has a lively personality, always conversing with those around him; Mitch was mellow, a wallflower. Mitch came to life around Sarah; Harry joked how he had heart eyes around her. Sarah is a force to be reckoned with. The kindest smile but the highest walls, she dropped them down without a second thought for Mitch, seeing as he was the one to make conversation with her when she was transferred from Station 25. Harry admires her strength and quick thinking. She had a dream of being a doctor but is happy as a paramedic for the time being.

The fourth seat at their table always remains empty, open to anyone wanting to sit down for a conversation, but never permanent. Harry knows as well as Mitch that it's being saved. Saved for that certain someone to walk into his life.

He's left wondering if he's finally met her.

Harry spots Esme free and gets up from his table to sit at the bar asking for two beers knowing Mitch will join him. He doesn't try to start a conversation, thoroughly enjoying the buzz of conversation around him and the comfort of Mitch next to him.

It's been three days since the high school fire and two days since the cookies, and all he can think about is Y/N. If he had to guess she was a teacher, he forgot to ask too focused on the fire yet too stunned to ask her why she was there. She had been quick to have everyone checked for and was most relieved when he confirmed everyone was counted for.

Harry was sure he'd never see her again, that she'd cross his path, and that was it. No, instead, he sees her less than a week later, but he made no move to ask her out even though he knows she's interested. At least it seems like she was. She didn't have to approach him that second time or send him his own box of cookies. If he were to meet her now, he wouldn't think twice about asking her out but meeting her out while on the job, he wouldn't let her be a distraction.

"What's got you thinking so hard?" Mitch says, interrupting his internal debate.

Harry takes a drink of his beer. "Nothing." He sighs. "At least I think it's nothing."

"That woman from the high school fire." Mitch states.

Harry chuckles; nothing gets past him. "Yeah, don't know why. She seems to invade my thoughts, and all I know is her name and that accidents happen around her."

"Maybe she's a firebug," Mitch suggests.

"She's not an arsonist." Harry nudges Mitch. "Don't joke about that. Her aura's too bright. You saw how she was with the students and teachers."

Mitch laughs. "Aura, what are you talking about?"

"Oii, leave me alone. I told you I got into meditating and have been doing lots of reading. Gem sent me this book about seeing and feeling it. Your aura gets brighter around Sarah."

Mitch's cheeks go red about to respond when his phone rings. "Speaking of." Harry sips his beer as Mitch takes his phone out.

"I'm taking this outside; she's checking in for the night. Letting me know she's alright." Mitch says, finishing off his beer. Sarah was out visiting family for the weekend, and Mitch couldn't join, so Harry was more than happy to keep him company.

Harry raises his hands defensively. "I didn't say anything."

His eyes follow Mitch outside, watching him hold the door open, phone to his ear when he sees her walk in. She's dressed in skin-tight jeans, hugging her hips nicely. A white silk top and completing the look is a black leather jacket. Harry shits in his seat, she looks fantastic, but he might need a shot or two to get the courage to go over to her.

Harry downs the two tequila shots Jorge placed in front of him, turning to look back at her when he sees two guys with her. It seems they know her well, standing so close to her. One has a hand on her back, and Harry's confidence deflates.

She's got a boyfriend, of course, she does.

The men are good looking Harry hates to admit, he knows he's attractive, but those two might give him a run for his money. They tower over her, like guards protecting a queen. She walks forward, both men trailing behind. She does a quick scan of the room as she approaches the bar, and smirk forms on her face as her eyes meet him for a brief second.

His view is quickly blocked when a female embraces her in a hug. She pulls back, and Harry is surprised to see that the friend is Frankie.

Frankie is the candidate he welcomed onto his truck six months ago. Frankie is remarkable, goes after what she wants, and gets along well with everyone. Chief Rivera was impressed from the start, and that's hard to do.

Harry sits there watching, wondering which one could be her boyfriend. The blonde has a good chance he has his arm thrown over her shoulder casually, but she doesn't lean into him. That makes him smile. Brings back the small confidence he has left. The group laughs at something the redhead said, and she reaches up to kiss the redhead's cheek so it could be him. Harry wants them to come this way and have Frankie introduce them, but they stay far enough where he can't hear their conversation, only her sweet laugh. He looks away but turns once more when he sees movement in the corner of his eye. It's Frankie wrapping her arms around redhead's neck and kissing him on the lips. The blonde has his eyes on someone across the bar, and just like that, Harry can breathe again. Y/N lifts her gaze and catches him staring; she sends him a sly wink before whispering something in Frankie's ear.

No boyfriend. That's good; it means Harry might have a shot after all.

He hears Frankie pass behind him, meaning she also passed by. He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

He startles when he hears a voice next to him order an old-fashioned. He knows it's her.

"Hey there, Lieutenant" She's leaning against the bar smiling at him. "Frankie was telling me you've never had a woman as a candidate." She says, taking a step forward into his space. Frankie comes behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "She acts all tough, but between you and me, it's all an act." She raises her drink to take a sip. "Just like you."

"Sorry about her Harry, we don't take her out enough to know how to act around others." Frankie jokes as she walks off with her three beers.

"Ouch." Y/N laughs as she watches Frankie walk away from them.

"You're very forward, firebug." Harry comments

She shrugs. "So I've been told." Y/N pauses acknowledging the nickname. "Did you call me an arsonist?"

Harry's eyes go wide. How does she know the term? "No, of course not. I know you didn't start those fires, but two run-ins around a fire the nickname is kind of perfect."

It really is. Harry hopes she agrees.

"Alright, Styles, I'll accept the term of endearment. As long as I'm the only one."

"Wouldn't want anyone else," Harry answers truthfully.

She looks him up and down clearly, not hiding she's checking him out. Harry feels confident in his outfit for the evening. He's wearing a vintage 'Enjoy Health, Eat Your Honey' shirt tucked into black flared corduroy jeans. Her gaze stays on his forearms, admiring the tattoos. Her gaze lingers on the mermaid as if she wants to raise her finger and trace around it.

"So, you've been hiding all that under roughly 45 pounds of gear give or take the weight of items." She tuts, shaking her head. "What a shame."

"Not like I can do my job without the gear, makes running into a burning building easier."

"I suppose." Y/N smirks, a glimmer in her eye. "How fast do you have to put on the gear?"

He narrows his eyes at her, not knowing where she's going with this. "Under two minutes. Gets faster as time goes by." He answers cautiously.

"Pretty sure, I could undress you in less than that. Leave you in your boxers, or do you prefer briefs." She takes a sip of her whiskey. "Maybe you don't like using it, heard they could be constricting."

Harry can't help the blush that takes over his cheeks; he's never met someone so forward. He wants to get to know her, and by the looks of it, she feels the same way.

They stare at each other for a few seconds taking in the other's face. Harry notices the smallest detail, like the small scar close to her eyebrow. He catches the peaking of a tattoo from under her jacket. He's really intrigued now.

"It's Harry." He says, bringing his hand out to shake, knowing he's never appropriately introduced himself like she has.

She grabs it and leans in close. "Personally, I like Lieutenant." He shifts slowly, but then she gestures down without breaking eye contact. "Think you do as well."

She finishes her drink and sets it back down. She places a twenty on the counter to cover the cost of her drink and his. "I'll see you around, Lieutenant Harry."

She's out of sight in the next few seconds.

He wants her, more than for just a night. Harry wants to be the reason she laughs, the reason she smiles but most importantly, the one she gets to love. He has it bad. He's never met someone so forward and direct with their flirting; he really loved the attention.

Now that he knows Frankie has a connection to her, Harry knows he'll see her soon. Who knows when that is. He'll be counting the seconds until then.

Mitch walks in and sits next to Harry, pocketing his phone. "Miss anything interesting?"

Harry throws his head back and groans. "You have no idea."

Friday's are never the same. Harry feels like he can never prepare for these days. They had just gotten back from a call; it was a kitchen stove fire gone wrong. It was an in and out; a fire extinguisher was really all they needed. The family was very thankful. He was just glad they were smart enough to turn the stove off.

Harry had just grabbed a seat when the alarm began to ring. He knows everyone is holding back a groan, but it's their job. Sometimes there are either too many breaks or not enough.

"Pin in accident, Columbus Drive Bridge."

Harry is quick to dress, finishing first. He taps the side of the truck, "Let's go, let's go!" Everyone picks up the speed, and they are out in seconds. Wilson is not light on the honking, knowing an accident on the bridge is never good.

"Alright, candidate, remember to walk with a purpose, don't run." Harry begins.

Frankie nods. "Access the details before you act." She finishes off for him.

"Good."

The police are on the scene keeping back the curious group of people that have gathered. Harry shakes his head. All people love having a front-row view of accidents.

The accident looks bad, two cars: one car seems abandoned, a door left wide open. It seems to him that was who caused the accident, good things the police can run their plates. In the second car, the passenger seat door is jammed, there is glass everywhere. There is one person in the driver's seat, a blanket over them.

Harry approaches the vehicle seeing Wilson already assessing the passenger and how best to take them out.

"Female, mid 20's," Wilson calls out.

Harry sees her door is jammed in. "We need to pry open her door before getting her out. The hit was all on the passenger side, but please be careful we don't know her injuries."

Lincoln gets to work, Harry stands to the side, waiting to cut the driver's belt and out of the car.

"She had a blanket over her. The glass missed her face, but one got her abdomen. She's a funny one, taking the pain like a champ. She said she's a nurse so knows it didn't hit an organ." Sarah tells him, as she spoke to her from the back window wanting to best prepare for when they get her on the stretcher.

"Ma'am, how you doing? We are doing our best to get you out." Harry tells her, seeing the door being removed, quickly moving in to remove her seatbelt, which saved her life.

"Thought we were on a first-name basis, Lieutenant." She speaks quietly, voice trembly.

He steps back in shock, seeing her remove the blanket from her face. Her face clean of injury, Stevie Nicks' shirt red and ripped. She's hurt and laughing, but he feels like his heart wants to jump out of his throat.

It's Y/N.

There's blood, and she's injured, but she's okay.

She's fine.

She's alive.

He never wants to see her like this again.

"Took years to find this exact shirt. Got it for a steal at $10." She groans jokingly. "Do you have a remedy to wash out blood?"

"In fact, I do; how about I help you with it once you get these stitches?" Harry tells her, hoping to keep the conversation going, keeps her calm as it is doing for him.

"Asking me on a date on the job. Not very professional." She teases him.

"How do I know you didn't cause this accident just to see me?" He banters back.

He has her in his arms, taking her out slowly. She has very few injuries; he's carrying her to the stretcher when he hears her cries.

"It wasn't my fault you have to know." She cries out. "It was green, it really was, I promise. There are traffic cameras here, so check. I waited a few seconds then went and next thing I know I have the blanket over me. I've got quick reflects." She smiles slightly at the thought. "A nice lady told me help was on the way." Harry wipes her tears away. "I was on my way to the grocery store. Annie, my neighbor, wanted brownies, and I told her I would run to the store to get the items. She's going to be so upset."

"Not your fault, I believe you. Everyone here does." His heart is breaking. She doesn't deserve to feel this, especially when the other driver got away scratch-free, it seems.

"I'm the safest driver out there. I've never gotten a ticket, not even a parking one. When I took my driving test, I passed with zero errors. They said it hasn't happened in years." She groans as they load her into the ambulance.

"I believe you. Your insurance must love you." He comments, getting a small laugh out of her.

"Tell Frankie to send me flowers. I don't like coming home to no flowers."

Esme slams the door shut, and off they go.

He knows Frankie saw and heard; he knows Chief is with her. As good as one is doing their job, once family is involved, it's quick to lose one's focus. Harry knows he has to check on her once they are back at the station. He's going to encourage her to see her friend, not having to worry about the end of the shift because when it comes to family, that is their priority.

Harry knows Mitch is watching him like a hawk, waiting for him to give him any kind of sign he's not okay, but he knows better. He's not allowed to break down in front of his crew. Not something he lets himself do.

Instead, he does what he knows best. He gives orders.

"Pack up back to the station."

Just like that, they begin to load up the truck, everything in their rightful place, but all he can think about is Y/N and if she truly is going to be okay.

Harry is pacing outside her door.

Yes, he got her address. He had to know how she was doing. Frankie was kind enough to give it to him, not without a few warnings. As in if he did anything to upset her, she knew how to handle a halligan. Harry dares not to cross her. He, after all, has only honorable intentions for Y/N.

He takes a deep breath before raising his hand and knocking three times. He quickly takes a step back, not wanting to be too close when she opens the door if she opens the door.

It swings open, and there she stands in an oversized t-shirt and grey joggers. "I have been wondering when you would show." She grins at him.

Harry's eyes widened. "You knew I was coming?"

She nods. "Of course, Frankie had to make sure it was okay to give my address to a man I've only had one proper conversation with."

"It was two, really." Harry jokes.

"Two then." She smiles down at her feet, starting to feel bashful under his watchful gaze. That is when her eyes catch sight of the gift in his hands.

"You brought me flowers." She exclaims, reaching for the pink peonies, and he quickly extends his hand for her to take them.

"Wasn't sure your favorite. These reminded me of you and how beautiful you are." He shares, feeling his cheeks heat up, running a hand on the back of his neck, wanting her to say something and save himself from embarrassment.

"Thank you." She sniffs them. "I've always loved peonies, don't think I've ever been gifted them before." She moves to the side and gestures him to come in.

"Would you like something to drink? I would have offered you food, but I didn't cook tonight; Frankie dropped off Chinese for one." She gives him a small smile to make up for it.

"It's no problem; after the day you had, my well being is not of your concern," Harry tells her, happy to accept the water she handed him.

"See, you're wrong, Styles." Harry frowns, meeting her eyes as she continues on. "You have a dangerous job, so I feel I do have a right to worry about you."

"Fair enough."

Harry sips his water, and she does the same. He assumes she's trying to collect her thoughts. That is what he's trying to do.

He loses his train of thought as he begins to take in the yellow-painted cabinets; the hue holds a softness that allows them to stretch from floor to ceiling without feeling overwhelming. Brown granite countertops and hardwood floors temper the yellow; the bronze hardware marries the two colors. He's never felt so calm and safe in a kitchen.

Back to his thinking, a good reason to tell her why he came to visit her because indeed she'll have to ask.

It could be his crush on her, a growing infatuation. At this point, it might be like already.

One goal before he leaves her house is well-- to have asked her on a date.

Harry's train of thought is broken as she begins to speak.

"I want to apologize for breaking down in your arms. That wasn't right of me."

Harry scoots closer, placing a ringed hand on top of hers, resting on the counter; this causes her to look up at him. "Hey firebug, no need to apologize. It was a tough situation. The crew said you handled it really well." He smiles and gives her hand a squeeze. "I'm happy you're okay."

She nods and lets his words hang in the air for a minute. "I made brownies, and Annie helped me. She did the heavy lifting today. Do you want some?"

Harry knows she changed topics because she felt overwhelmed, and he was happy to follow her lead. "I'd love to try these brownies. If they were as good as your cookies, then I might just eat them all."

A huge grin takes over her face at his confession; he accomplished exactly what he was looking for.

"You loved the cookies?" She asks.

"Loved honestly might have shed a tear when I ate the last one. Your cookies are what I assume they give to eat in heaven." He jokes but very much meaning each word.

"Thank you, I'll be sure to take more down to the station soon." Y/N blushes looking away from Harry's piercing gaze.

"You know, I didn't even ask you how you're doing." Harry laughs, forgetting the reason he came over.

She laughs with him. "I did as well; if you'd ask me, it feels like a regular date night."

Y/N doesn't blush at her words, but Harry sure does. "Date night, huh." She nods. "I'd be up for more nights like this."

"Good to know."

They stare at each other for a few seconds taking in each other's smile and how easy it is together.

"Back to your original question, I'm doing good. Only needed five stitches and should heal up nicely." She puts her hand over her injury as if remembering the pain.

"Well, I'm glad you're well. I'm a phone call away if you ever need anything."

She all but glows at his words. "I'll keep that in mind."

After a while, Harry helps her move over to the couch, wanting her to be comfortable. He fixes her pillows a few times, wanting her to not feel any kind of pain. Y/N just basks in the attention; it's not everyday she has a firefighter fawning over her.

Time with Y/N seems to fly by because the next time his eyes catch sight of the time, it's nearing nine pm. He can tell she's knackered, but he and neither she sees an end in their conversation. It just flows so easy and who are they to try to stop it.

Harry is learning about why she moved to the city and how she has an interview next week for the pediatrics department at Med. Also, she was at the school because she volunteers weekly; Miss Lucy is a teacher Y/N went to uni with and likes doing fun activities with the nine-year-old.

Harry truly doesn't understand how she has so much to give to others, but he's glad to be receiving some of it as well. He hopes to give her back half of what she gives to others.

"I've always seemed to find myself in trouble. Never the cause of it, but it's always around. I always thought it was me, and it seems to be true." Y/N shares with him. She has struggled with growing up; she may have many friends, but she doesn't stay in a place long enough to make herself feel at home, but so far, it has been different.

Harry sees how much her words hurt to say. He leans over and grabs her hand. He squeezes it tightly before intertwining their fingers together. He really loves holding her hand, and he hopes she continues to allow him to do so.

"Where angels go, trouble follows." Harry breathes out, never breaking eye contact with her. It takes every fiber in his body not to reach over and plant his lips on hers. He so badly wants her to believe his words because he knows he does.

She truly is an angel from above, and he is lucky enough to be welcomed into her life.

Y/N feels her cheeks heat up but never breaks eye contact with Harry.

They fall silent, basking in what seems to be their final moments together for the night.

"I should really get going, poppet. Got to let you get your rest." She nods and lets him help her up so she can walk him to the door.

"Do you believe in faith?" She asks as they stand outside the door.

He shrugs. "I never believed in all of that stuff, but in a matter of a few weeks, I've run into you four times, and I wouldn't leave that up to luck. I thank whatever brought us together and that they'll keep us together."

"I like that a lot."

He kisses her cheek softly. "As soon as those stitches are out, will you let me take you out on a date?"

"I'd prefer something sooner, but I can wait." She teases.

Harry nods; he feels like he does a lot of blushing around her. He really enjoys how she makes him feel.

"I'll check in tomorrow." He promises.

"Just so you know, if I need anything, I won't be calling for firehouse 51." He stops. "I'll be calling this guy that has a thing for me that runs into burning buildings for a living."

"Any time of the day, I promise I'll answer the call, poppet."

He had just put his seatbelt on when his phone began to ring. Harry picks it up, never breaking eye contact with her.

"Lieutenant, I need some help. See, I was in an accident today, and I know it might seem a little strange, maybe a bit forward." She bits her lip, not yet breaking the intense eye contact. "I could really use a cuddle to feel better. Do you know anyone that can help out with that?"

Harry shakes his head at her but nonetheless shoots her a dimpled smile. He jumps out of his car and strolls up to her—phone in hand, beautiful smile on her face.

"I would be honored." He leans in and connects his lips to her cheek; he lets it linger for a few seconds before pulling away. "Now, let's get you in bed. I heard from a little birdie you don't kiss before a first date, so the sooner you heal, the better."

Y/N lets out a small groan at Frankie. "Maybe I can make an exception."

Harry doesn't hide the surprise on his face at her words. "You certainly will make life more interesting."

She giggles as she leads him to her room, Harry following closely behind.

Harry knows they were meant to walk into each other's life. The feelings he is starting to feel for her something he has never felt before.

Call him cliche, but a never-ending spark has been ignited.

thank you so much for reading! i love you

come chat trouble follows with me

taglist: @bigspoonstyles @taintedwonder @sunflowersupremacy

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convenientalias · 3 years

Text

BEYOND EVIL REFIEW (bc I finally finished it)

So, Beyond Evil! That sure was a show. That I watched. Being honest, when I finished watching this show last night, I kept yelling at the screen, "WHY. WHAT THE HECK. NO. WHY ARE YOU DOING THAT." The "heck" rather than "fuck" was because my mom was watching with me. She can testify to the truth of this reaction.

What frustrates me about Beyond Evil is its sense of morality. When I first started watching it, I got the sense that Han Ju-won was a character with an obsessive sense of justice and also self righteousness; he felt he had the right to do anything, suspect anyone, and cross any boundary in the pursuit of justice. A lot of this show was devoted--I thought at the time--to proving him wrong. His suspicions were consistently proved incorrect, the people around him were unimpressed with his hounding, and his coercing a woman into helping with the investigation got the woman killed. Han Ju-won doesn't care about his suspicions being proved wrong (you're always wrong until you're right--and I agree with him there) and doesn't care about hostility from coworkers or suspects (from his POV, these ppl are too close-knit to really suspect each other or investigate properly--and I agree with him there too) but he does feel a lot of guilt over causing Lee Geum-hwa's death (again, the right reaction. What the fuck, Ju-won?) and some guilt over harassing the mostly innocent Lee Dong-sik. And so he begins to rethink how justified he is in his methods and put more effort into investigating people ethically.

This is a good arc. I have no real issues with it. It's annoying watching Ju-won being an idiot sometimes, but at least it's going somewhere.

However, while Beyond Evil starts out with this nuanced idea of how pursuing the law blindly and with no qualms can hurt people, once it's settled the issue of Dong-sik's innocence and moves into its second half, it kind of tosses this idea out the window. Most investigation in the second half of Beyond Evil is based on illegal or immoral methods. Illegally obtained recordings. Harassing witnesses and suspects. Arresting people with flimsy evidence (for example, based on hearsay). Even planting evidence. The viewer knows that these people are all guilty of one thing or another and that this kind of investigation is getting results, but it's still bad method--and Beyond Evil's ideas about what counts as "guilty" grow more and more black and white. And therefore stupider.

In the first half of Beyond Evil, Dong-sik's manipulation of the investigation is certainly illegal, but it's not necessarily seen as "wrong". Now, it's arguable that his withholding evidence caused Kang Min-jeong's death, but I wouldn't argue it personally. Yes, she died of suffocation; no, that doesn't mean Dong-sik and the police could have found her in time to save her. Kang Min-jeong didn't have a lot of air to spare to begin with, getting a warrant (if we're going all-out on proper method here) takes time, and Kang Min-jeong had already been brutalized even though suffocation was ultimately the cause of death. It's possible they could have saved her, but I don't think it's a given, and certainly Dong-sik assumed at the time that she was dead. His miscalculation is tragic, but it's not so much seen as morally wrong as it's seen as an accident. Therefore, "illegal" is not here equated to "wrong", except in the eyes of Han Ju-won, who the show generally depicts as kind of unreasonable.

However, in the final act of the show, pretty much every illegal act is given equal weight in guilt. Not in jailtime given, necessarily, but in how the show and characters seem to weigh them. For example:

Park Jeong-je driving drunk and running over someone who is lying on the road in the dark is equal to

Han Ki-hwan driving drunk and hitting someone standing up, which is also equal to

Lee Chang-jin hiding a body, which is also equal to

Lee Chang-jin committing literal murders, which is also equal to

Do Hae-won bribing police officers and covering up an accident on her son's behalf, which is also equal to

Han Ju-won coercing a woman to act as bait for a serial killer, resulting in her death, which is also equal to

Lee Dong-sik obstructing an investigation

I think we can agree that not all of these crimes are actually equal! Sometimes Beyond Evil understands that too, but other times it really doesn't.

For example, after Park Jeong-je confesses to the drunk driving incident, his friends more or less desert him; even at the end, a year later, when one officer brings up the possibility of his return, he's immediately hushed as if this is a taboo subject. Dong-sik doesn't seem to consider forgiveness a possibility here, even though Jeong-je didn't actually kill Yu-yeon, even though the accident was an accident, even though Jeong-je had repressed the event's occurrence for years due to the extent of his trauma surrounding it, even though Jeong-je helped him pursue justice, and even though he and Jeong-je have been friends for years. The show doesn't seem sure whether or not to sympathize with Jeong-je. By facing justice, he's been left a road to redemption, but we're not actually given a chance to see him walk it, or a chance to see him even start to heal.

Then there's Lee Chang-jin. Lee Chang-jin is a murderer. He's murdered multiple people--most notably Nam Sang-bae, but he also enabled the suicide of Kang Jin-muk. However, he did not actually kill Lee Yu-yeon. Despite this, Dong-sik and company treat his covering up Yu-yeon's death as the worst of his crimes and equate it to killing her, even though she was in fact killed in a car accident. I get that Lee Yu-yeon's death is what drives Dong-sik, but??? Similarly, Do Hae-won's main crime is covering up Yu-yeon's death for Park Jeong-je's sake. ...I honestly don't think this is that bad at all. It's a crime, yeah, but it's a crime she committed out of love, and a crime that didn't have any real casualties (yes I know Dong-sik got framed and all that, but he didn't get convicted and no one actually died). I think the show realized she didn't come out looking that bad too, which is why it throws in the last minute twist of "AND ALSO SHE HELPED A SERIAL KILLER. AND SHE NEVER ACTUALLY CARED ABOUT PARK JEONG-JE AT ALL!!" It's ridiculous.

All this leads up to the climax of Lee Dong-sik turning himself in for obstruction of justice. You know what, Beyond Evil? You can't have it both ways. If illegal investigation methods are bad, ALL these cops should be in trouble for the shit they got up to. If they're illegal but morally justifiable, why is Lee Dong-sik turning himself in for something that the first half of the show saw as "illegal" but not "wrong"? (And whichever way we go--why'd he have to force Han Ju-won to do the arresting when Ju-won was already in the midst of a mental breakdown?)

Meanwhile Han Ju-won gets off scot-free for extremely intentional blackmail of Lee Geum-hwa, which is also.... oh well. Oh well.

Anyway.

These are the reasons I yelled at the screen last night.

BUT.

If you were hoping this review would be less about thematic coherency and more about viewer experience: I thought some episodes were better than others. The tone is very grim, which can unfortunately sometimes make it boring. There are a lot of scenes that are basically about two characters trying to one-up each other with accusations, emotional drama, or cleverness; some of these are a bit silly but they're pretty fun to watch. Yeo Jin-goo as Han Ju-won was beautiful as always. He spends most of the show making one of two expressions: resting bitch face or hostile laughter. These are both good expressions, and he does eventually unlock the third emotion of Great Stress and Trauma. I didn't ship him and Dong-sik as hard as some people apparently do but I agree there were good vibes.

Overall: It could've been better, it could've been worse. Without Yeo Jin-goo, it would definitely have been less enjoyable for me. But that's true of any show he's in lols. (And if you enjoyed this one, I'd recommend Circle! for the experience of just watching Yeo Jin-goo be stressed 24/7.) I neither recommend this show nor anti-rec it. My feelings are highly mixed.

#beyond evil #review has spoilers

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

What If The Love You Deserve Is Love You Never Find?

Jason Todd x Reader

Word Count: 3.6K Warnings: Explicit Language, Slight Angst

Author's Note: I spent like an hour going through my music to find the perfect song lyric for this. Love me people. Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

It’d been complete fate that she’d even met him. A chance of looking up when she was fixing a shirt on a display, gaping as he browsed the racks along the wall, very so often picking something up to examine it before folding it and returning it to its original position.

But even from halfway across the store she could tell he was drop-dead gorgeous, and she slapped the back of her hand across her coworker’s chest. “Dibs.” It was all she said before hurrying towards him, grinning when she heard her friend groan something along the lines of, ‘No fair!’

She cleared her throat as she neared him and he glanced over, giving her a smile. “Good morning,” she greeted. “How are you today?”

“I’m good,” he replied. “How are you?”

“Well, every day is a new day.” She grinned when he laughed. “Is there anything I can help you find, or are you just looking around?”

“Oh, I’m just looking around.”

Nodding, she said, “Alright, well since summer break just started our sales are everything along this wall,” she gestured to the side next to her. “It’s buy one get one free, and so is that wall over there.” She pointed to the other side of the room. “Everything in between is buy two get one free.”

“Sounds good.” He murmured.

“And I’m (Y/N). So if you need any help with anything or want an opinion on anything, just come find me!” she smiled at him and wandered off back towards the registers where her coworker was, and was promptly slapped in the side, causing her to gasp slightly.

“What’s his name and how much money does he make?”

(Y/N) huffed a laugh. “I didn’t ask.”

“You didn’t—you didn’t ask? Why not?” she griped. “That guy’s wearing a Rolex! He’s probably loaded.”

“It could also be a knockoff,” she shot back. “Besides, you gotta wait it out.” (Y/N)’s eyes followed him as he looked up and down the wall of shirts and jackets. “If he comes and asks for help, then he’s interested.”

Her coworker rolled her eyes. “You say that about everyone and they’re only always coming to ask for purchase.”

(Y/N) shrugged. “It’s gotta work one day.”

“You’re hopeless.”

“Probably. But at least—”

“Excuse me,” someone interrupted and they both spun around to see him standing there, a smile on his face as he looked at (Y/N).

“Yes?” she chirped, flashing him a pearly white grin.

“I was wondering if you could help me pick out an outfit?” he asked, and she nodded.

“I’d be glad to help,” shooting her friend a wink as she followed him back towards the wall. “So, is there a particular event you’re going to that calls for a new outfit?” she inquired, taking in the sight of him.

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m hanging out with a couple friends later tonight.” He glanced at her. “Wanna show off, you know?”

(Y/N) giggled. “I totally know what you mean.” She crossed her arms. “Alright, well, let’s start with the easiest thing. Favorite colors?”

“Red, white, black, gray, and teal.” He replied.

“Hmm…boots or sneakers?”

“Boots.”

“Jeans or khak—”

“Jeans.” He interrupted with a scandalized expression.

She giggled again. “Just being thorough.” (Y/N) looked him over. He was tall, extremely built and God, his face was beautiful. Strong jaw and cheekbones, tanned skin and dark hair with a small white patch in the front. And his eyes, oh, his eyes were the prettiest teal.

“See something you like?” he flirted with a smirk and she rolled her eyes.

“Oh, don’t be cocky, I was just beginning to enjoy this.” He chuckled and she hummed. “I can see you like wearing jackets in eighty degrees so I’m gonna assume you’re more of a ‘suffer the pain for the aesthetic of the look’ type of man?” he nodded. “Okay, you a hoodie or sweatshirt guy?”

He paused, eyeing the displays and remarked, “I’m more a leather jacket type of man.”

(Y/N) nodded. “I can work with that.” She started up the wall. “Based on your body type I’m going to assume you run between a large and an extra-large.” Pausing, she eyed his hips. “Your pants size is probably a large.” She handed him a pair of dark blue jeans and he looked them over.

“Did you just give me jeans with bedazzled-shit on the back pockets?”

She cracked a grin. “Embrace your inner punk rock star, babe.” Shoving a crimson V-neck in his arms, she followed it with a pair of matte-black military style combat boots. “Black or tan leather?”

“Mmm…I have a tan at home,” he murmured, and she nodded.

“Black it is then,” (Y/N) decided, handing him a black leather jacket that closely resembled a bomber style jacket with a gray hood attached. She spun and stepped up to him. “Do you wear jewelry?”

“Mhm,” he said and turned his head. “Got my ears pierced a while back.”

“Have anything against religious imagery?”

He gasped. “And be blasphemous? I would never!”

She chuckled and wandered around a display, picking up a set of small silver earrings with crosses dangling on them, then she handed him a silver block necklace with the engraving, ‘Stay the course, for horizons are chased, but never caught’, and a silver wallet chain. “Your belt is black but I’ve half a mind to find a silver belt buckle to go with it.”

“But I digress,” she said, waving her hand before coming behind him, gently shoving him to the dressing room. “Off you go!”

He laughed, disappearing into the dressing room and she looked over at her coworker, giving her a mouthed, “Oh. My. God. He’s. Hot.”

“Tell me about it!” her friend mouthed back.

“And he smells like heaven!” (Y/N) returned, smiling when the curtain shifted, and he stepped out. Immediately her jaw dropped, and she breathed, “Holy shit.”

He chuckled, sending shivers down her spine and ran a hand through his hair, an action that made her stomach flip when he looked at her with those gorgeous teal eyes. “I take it I’m looking good, huh?”

All she could do was nod and mumble, “I’ll say.” She walked over and gently drug him to the giant mirror on the wall and turned him round so he could see himself. “You’re gonna knock your friends and half the people in this city dead the second they lay eyes on you.”

He reached up and adjusted the silver necklace before tugging at the jacket. “I like it.”

“I’m glad you do,” (Y/N) said, internally sighing in relief. “You’ve got everything for the deals, so let’s head to the register and make this happen, if you’re ready.”

“After you.” He replied, and she waltzed around, tapping at the register when he held up a hand. “Gimme just a minute.” She nodded, watching as he wandered to the displays and plucked a black backpack off the rack and shoved his old clothes and shoes in it, then he picked up a silver ring and slipped it on his finger. He walked back over. “Had to finish off the look.”

(Y/N) smiled. “Well, you’ve picked up two items, so you’ll have to find one more for the deal.”

He leaned his hip against the counter and shot her a flirty grin. “How ‘bout I buy the backpack and the ring and I get your number for free?” she blinked in shock and he added smoothly, “Never know when I’ll need help with another style.”

Her coworker was nudging her in the ribs but all she could do was try and horribly fail at hiding the grin as she rang up his total and flipped over the receipt, quickly scribbling her number down. She handed it to him, and he took it. “Thank you—”

She tugged a little and murmured, “You are going to let me style you for beach days, right?” her eyes followed down his body. “I’d love to help you pick out a nice pair of swim trunks.”

He smirked. “Well I was hoping to ask about underwear too, but I could probably throw in swim trunks as well.” Pulling the receipt from her fingers, he said, “Name’s Jason, by the way.”

“Well, have a good day, Jason.” She flirted, waving as he walked off.

Her coworker shoved her elbow into her ribs, and she gasped. “Holy fuck, it actually worked, and you just scored a really hot fuck.”

(Y/N) sighed dreamily. “Yes, I did.”

***

One “styling” turned into multiple “stylings” and many, many phone calls which turned into brunch and dinner dates with Jason. Which she strictly went to under the belief of styling said man, because falling in love with him spelled heartbreak and she knew it because there was no way someone like him was interested in her at all.

And yet, no matter how much she tried not too, (Y/N) found herself slipping deeper and deeper for him. It scared her, but she figured the easiest thing to do was to get him out on a date of her own and set the line before it was crossed. Which was how she found herself dressed in a 1950’s style floral dress with matching flats with her hair and makeup done, waiting underneath the cherry blossom tree in the Gotham City park.

She brushed her fingers over the fabric at her knee for what seemed like the millionth time, heart fluttering in her chest as she watched the people walk by. A few people had come up to her, either to compliment her outfit or ask her who the picnic was set up for. Jason had texted that he’d be there soon and (Y/N) hoped it would be right then because if she had to tell another guy to scram, she was going to pick everything up and haul ass.

Shaking her head, she focused on the poetry book in front of her, reading over another prose when she heard, “(Y/N)!” She looked up, seeing Jason hurrying towards her, three books in his arms.

She laughed and stood up, meeting him halfway. “Jay, I said bring one book not three.”

“I couldn’t pick. I love Emily Dickinson just as much as I love Walt Whitman and John Keats.” He retorted, setting the books down on the blanket before taking her hands in his, pushing her out to take in the sight of her. “Wow,” he breathed. “You look beautiful, doll.”

(Y/N) flushed, smiling shyly. “Yeah, well…you said something about the fifties, and I had this in the closet.” She nodded to the blanket. “I hope you’re hungry.”

His stomach rumbled in response and his cheeks tinted pink as he sat down. “You didn’t hear that.”

“Hear what?” she repeated with a grin, opening up the basket. “Okay, so I went a little overboard with the food, but who cares.” He chuckled, watching as she pulled out a couple bowls and a tray, then set out two plates for them and some silverware.

“What’s in these?” he asked, opening the lid to one of the bowls. It looked like some kind of pasta salad.

“That one is a BLT pasta salad and the other is fruit salad.” She started unraveling the foil from the platter. “And these are chicken Caesar pitas.” (Y/N) put one on his plate. “I made four just in case you wanted more to eat.”

Jason’s face lit up at all the food and he met her gaze. “You did all this for me?”

(Y/N) smiled and nodded. “Yeah…I hope it’s not too much though.”

“Not at all.” He looked around. “But I do hope you got something to drink in there.”

She giggled and handed him an insulated, stemless wine cup before pulling out a bottle of rosé. “Of course.”

“Thank you, doll,” he said as she poured them their drinks, then he raised his cup. “To us.”

(Y/N) clinked her cup to his. “To us.”

And that slowly turned into the food being eaten and the wine being drunk which ended up with Jason’s head in her lap as he read them his favorite poems, her fingers gently carding through his silky hair. At one point, he’d rested the book on his chest and simply closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of her massaging his scalp. And (Y/N)? She was trying to keep her heard from beating out of her chest.

“Jason?” she murmured softly, and he hummed in return. “Is this real?”

He huffed a laugh and opened his eyes. “Yeah, (Y/N), I think the sky is real.”

She didn’t laugh, merely offering a halfhearted smile towards the open park. “No, Jason, this…us…how you are towards me. The flirting and the touching.” Her eyes were trained on the grass because she could feel his teal gaze boring into her, and if she looked down at him, she knew she’d lose her edge. “I…feel like you care about me…more than a good friend would.”

Swallowing, she assured, “It’s okay if it’s a no…but I wanna know now just to be sure.” (Y/N)’s voice quieted considerably. “It’ll get messy if we don’t figure this out here.” She went silent, refusing to look at Jason as he rose out of her lap and shifted until he was sitting beside her, their thighs brushing against one another.

His hand gently cupped her cheek and he murmured, “Yeah, it’s real. How we feel for each other.”

“Really?” she blinked. “Because you and me? I didn’t wanna assume but I—”

Jason pressed his lips to hers, effectively silencing her and she all but melted into him as she looped her arms around his neck. He smiled against her lips and with his free hand, gently pushed her down onto the blanket, the right side of his body resting on hers as he kissed her.

When they pulled away, he rested his forehead on hers, quipping, “I think you assumed rightly, doll.”

“Jason?” (Y/N) asked.

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me again.”

“Yes ma’am.”

***

That single date morphed into something deeper between them, and she could tell Jason was holding back a bit. He was open to love, to having a relationship, but something told (Y/N) that all of the ones he’d ever had either ended in disaster or mutual termination.

That being said, Jason was nothing but a loving boyfriend to her. He was everything that romance books and movies were based on. The guy every girl wanted to be with and (Y/N) had no idea how she got so lucky, but she wasn’t going to question it for fear of waking up from whatever dream this was.

And the first time Jason invited her over to his apartment a few months after they got together, she wasn’t sure who was more nervous about it, but she could tell they were both walking on eggshells around one another, all throughout dinner and when they finally decided to turn in for the night.

She opened the door to the bathroom, letting the steam escape as she stepped out. “Bathroom’s yours.” Jason gave her a quiet ‘thank you’ and moved inside, shutting the door rather quickly.

(Y/N) sighed and sat down on the bed, staring at the door. She couldn’t, for the life of her, figure out why he was uncomfortable with her there. Not wanting to keep the atmosphere going, she rose from the bed and wandered to his closet door, shooting a quick glance towards the bathroom. The shower was still going, and she smirked, opening up the closet.

Jason’s wardrobe was a mixture of T-shirts and leather jackets and suits, and his shoes were either boots or sneakers. All dark, all silk or cotton. She stepped inside the walk-in closet and drew her fingers along the fabric, stopping when she felt a thicker jacket. Bingo. (Y/N) tugged it off the hanger. It was Jason’s red sweatshirt he wore all the time. She practically had to beg him to get out of it when she wanted to put him in something new—he wore it like it was his second skin.

Slipping it on, she slipped back into the bedroom and quietly shut the door just as the shower shut off. Momentarily panicking, she hurried over to the window and leaned against it, staring out at the traffic below. The bathroom door opened and (Y/N)’s heart slammed into her rib-cage when she heard Jason’s breathing stutter when he saw her.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she murmured. “Got a little cold.”

His footsteps padded behind her and his hands rested on her hips. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you that snooping in people’s personal belongings isn’t very nice?”

(Y/N) leaned back against his chest, head propping on his shoulder giving her enough space to see his face. “No, but she did teach me to put my big girl panties on when my boyfriend won’t grow a pair.”

Jason cocked a brow, fingers digging into her hips as he challenged, “Is that so?” he tugged her back, pressing his front into her back. “And what exactly am I not growing a pair about?”

“I dunno,” she shrugged. “But something’s bugging you and it’s really screwing with our mood.”

He held her gaze for a moment, then he sighed and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder. “I…gotta tell you something, doll.”

(Y/N) blinked and spun around in his arms. “Please don’t tell me you cheated on me.”

“What? God no!” he blurted. “No, I didn’t sleep with anyone.”

“Then what’s the problem?” she asked, reaching up to cup his cheeks. “You can tell me anything, Jason. I’m not going to get upset.” They stared one another down and he sighed, pulling away before heading to the bed. “Gonna show me you’re a eunuch or something?”

Jason barked a laugh. “You’re hilarious, doll.” He reached under the bed and pulled out a locked box. Setting it on the bed, he pressed his thumb to the little printer, and she watched as it flashed green and the locks flicked. He opened the case and (Y/N)’s eyes widened when she saw the gear inside, the guns on either side of the box, the suit in the middle, and the red helmet sitting on top of it.

“I wanted to tell you sooner, but I wasn’t sure how.” He whispered. “I guess I was scared what you’d think.” (Y/N) said nothing but she reached for the hood and picked it up, taking a seat on the bed as she flipped it over in her hands, examining it.

“Scared of my opinion…or scared of you?” she hinted, and he looked at her from where he knelt, a mix of emotions crossing his mind.

He shook his head and shrugged. “Both.”

She held the hood and with her free hand, gently caressed the lines of it, explaining, “Four years ago, my life was saved by Red Hood.” Jason’s head shot up and he gaped at her. “I was still in high school, coming home from prom when I got in a car accident with my best friend. We were hit by a drunk driver.”

(Y/N) looked at him. “The other driver was DOI, and my friend was unconscious and bleeding severely…I was awake but had broken my femur and clavicle…I couldn’t move, and I was scared.” Her fingers twitched along the cheek of the hood. “And then this mysterious masked man broke the lock on the door and cut my seat-belt. At first I thought he was going to hurt me because he looked menacing.”

She smiled. “But he grabbed my phone in the floorboard and called nine-one-one and then held my hand until an ambulance showed up.” (Y/N) gazed at him. “He kept saying I was going to be okay and that he wasn’t going to leave until I was in a bus and on my way to the hospital.”

Picking the hood up, she leaned over and put it on his head, watching as it beeped and lit up. “Later I heard on the news that he’d been responsible for the gang war between Black Mask and the drug dealers…but he’d successfully managed to get some of the school areas out of poverty and drug usage. And he’d killed a lot of bad people who didn’t deserve to be around.”

(Y/N) pressed her lips to the forehead of his helmet. “I was never scared of you, Jason. Then or now.” He put his head down and she merely smiled softly when he reached out and grabbed her hand, squeezing tightly.

They stayed that way for a while until he shifted and pulled the hood off, setting it back in the box. “Thank you, (Y/N),” he whispered, and she nodded, gently brushing her fingers through his hair.

“Of course.” She tugged at a strand and he looked over at her, seeing her eyes solemn. “Just promise me you’ll be careful from now on, and that you’ll come back in one piece.”

Jason snorted. “Will do, doll.”

“Good,” she nodded, then happened to look back in the box. “So…this might not be the best time but…how do you feel about I don’t know…putting the suit on when we go to bed?”

He huffed a laugh and rose, shoving her back onto the bed. “Well, well, Miss (Y/N), aren’t you a kinky vixen.”

“I can’t help it, Jason. Red Hood’s a pretty sexy guy.” She winked. “Say…wanna play cops and robbers sometime?”

“You’re something else,” he purred, and she wiggled underneath him.

“Don’t I know it, babe.”

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svnflowervol666 · 3 years

Text

Ma Petite Chérie: Christmas Then (Harry Styles x fem!Reader)

Read more from this little universe, Ma Petite Chérie, in my masterlist!

Word Count: 6k

Summary: It’s the happiest time of the year, but it couldn’t be more miserable for Harry and Y/N.

Author’s Note: Reupload because it wasn’t working in the tags! Here is the first of two Christmas bits for Harry, Y/N and Tallulah! I’ve told you all that I planned on writing about Harry and Y/N breaking up early on in their relationship, so I decided to add a little Christmas spirit into the mix in honor of the season. I promise, the next part isn’t this sad. I always feel like I’m not that great at writing angst, mostly because it hurts my heart too much, but I hope I did this story enough justice. Feedback is greatly appreciated, it helps to keep me going and to write things that you guys actually want to read. Any who, enjoy! The next part will be up by the end of the month. Take care and TPWK.

Harry had never thought that a night out with his colleagues would cost him his world. It was supposed to be a celebration of another successful year at his job, nothing more. It was supposed to be dinner, a few rounds of whiskey with his team, and an early night back to the two girls he loved the most who waited impatiently for his return. It wasn’t supposed to be a trip to the club, where the bass in the speakers replaced Harry’s own heartbeat and made his mind temporarily forget where his priorities lied. He thought that he’d only be there long enough to not seem like an uptight asshole that didn’t care to have any fun, but alas. Harry can be quite the pushover, and quickly slipped into that inedbriated state that often persuades you to do things you know you shouldn’t.

Harry had certainly thought wrong.

Y/N, on the other hand, was only supposed to be gone long enough to clear her head. Steam was practically billowing out of her at lightspeed the night this all happened. It would later be referred to as “The-Incident-That-We-Don’t-Speak-About-Because-It’s-Painful-Too-Even-Think-About” in the future, but right now, it consumed her. Every little detail of that night and the argument that followed haunted her like a reoccurring bad dream that she couldn’t shake. The way he smelled like cigarettes from keeping his coworkers company on the club’s smoking patio, the way his eyes were glassy from one (or two) ((or three)) too many shots of tequila, the way he yelled at her. She had assured him that all she needed was time to think, and then she’d be back to talk. At the time, she had told him that she quite frankly didn’t want to even be in the same postal code as him, so she left. All that was in the duffle bag she packed in four minutes flat was her toothbrush, face wash, and enough clothes to get her through the weekend while she cooled off at her friend’s apartment.

She didn’t plan on being gone for sixteen days.

A lot had occurred to her in her time away from Harry. One, was that this was the first time they had fought. Ever. She’d always wondered if her time with Harry would ever stop feeling like a fairytale that only existed in novels and storybooks. Everything about the two of them was picture-perfect from its conception, and had somehow only gotten sweeter as the years had passed. She firmly believed that they weren’t like everybody else, those that put on a charade around others, but were unbearably miserable in private. She had started to think that maybe it was supernatural, the way that they fit together so perfectly that she thought no one else on the planet could make her feel the way Harry does, perfectly complete and peaceful. But it was turning out to be as simple as the age-old saying, life is not always rainbows and butterflies.

Two, was this really what Y/N wanted? She didn’t give it a second thought when it came to Harry having a child, quickly stepping into the role of being someone important in Tallulah’s life. And Harry let her, too. As cautious as he is about who he involves his daughter with, it was almost scary the way he let her in and allowed her to love and care for her. Yes, scary. Scary, because children are permanent and they are hard work and they include making sacrifices that sometimes don’t seem fair. So, Y/N had been asking herself if this was where she saw herself staying, as she had too big of a heart to become such an important character in Tallulah’s life to decide somewhere down the line that she suddenly didn’t want to be tied down anymore. It wasn’t fair to the poor girl, just a measly four years old, to have to go through losing someone that had promised to love her forever. Twice.

Deep down, she knew that this, Harry’s modest yet still lavish home with a pastel yellow door and vegetable garden out back that was often littered with dolls and abandoned sun hats from the cutest little thing that Y/N had ever seen, was where she wanted to be. But this brought her to the third thing she had pondered whilst she rotted on her friend’s uncomfortable sofa at 2 a.m. as she’d waited for her melatonin supplements to enter her system and send her off into a subdued state.

Could she ever forgive him for what he said?

It was just one week before Christmas. Harry texted her at least once everyday, Y/N only replying to the ones when he’d asked her if she was ready to talk, to which she’d tell him that she wasn’t, and that she promised she’d tell him when she was. Part of her stayed away from him for so long because she feared that somehow, deep down, the right thing to do was to stay away forever, and that was certainly going to be the worst day of her life. It would be for the better, Y/N thinks, if that is the case, but she’s trying very hard not to think about that being the endgame for her and Harry. Hence the inner turmoil that’s consuming Y/N’s body whole.

Sarah had promised her that Harry wasn’t coming. They sided with her on this one, she’d said, thus rescinding his invitation to her and Mitch’s annual holiday party. It felt somewhat wrong to be going to see Harry’s friends without him, especially given the fact that they’d more or less been split up for the past two weeks. But as much as they were Harry’s friends, they were also hers too. Harry really knew how to pick the ones he held closest - they were good people. He knows how to chose them because Harry is also a good person and Y/N knows this, and that makes it all the more painful when she pulls into the car park designated for guests of the condominium where Mitch and Sarah lived.

They’d seemed a bit off when they welcomed her into the sizey flat with the small, wrapped gift she’d brought for their exchange, but Y/N dismisses their seemingly rehearsed greetings as pity. Although the last thing she wants is to talk about Harry, she finds their condolences and overall presence soothing. She hadn’t seen much aside from her friend that she’d been staying with and her overweight, powder white cat these days, so human interracton in any capacity was refreshing.

Until it wasn’t.

The longer she stood in the circle of the others that came to the party, mindlessly nodding along to whatever was being said but not actually paying any attention, the longer she was left to sit with her thoughts. She remembers the three other times she’d come to Mitch and Sarah’s for this exact party, and how warm and loved she felt. Right now, all she feels is the cold radiating off of the sliding glass door that she’s leaning on and loneliness. To Y/N, it almost felt like everyone in the room knew what had happened to her and Harry. Like they were trying too hard to be cordial with her because they saw her as the girl that Harry yelled terrible things at and did terrible things too. It was overbearing and she had to get out before she exploded.

Finding aid in the very sliding glass door that chilled her to the bone, she wandered out on the patio to get away from the noise that was so loud yet so quiet at the same time. Tiny snowflakes coated the railing and the outdoor furniture, enough to illuminate her surroundings in an almost purple glow despite the time of night. If Tallulah were here, she’d convince Y/N to catch them on her tongue with her. Any other time, a thought like that would have made her smile, but right now it just made her sad. She wasn’t wearing a coat, yet she couldn’t find herself to care in this moment.

She wanted Harry. She wanted Harry there with her, whispering in her ear that Josie is full of herself and will say anything to get people’s attention and that he thinks they should ditch the party early so they can “warm each other up” at home. Despite the ache in her bones that wished for him, she couldn’t stop thinking about the last time she saw him.

“You’re lying.”

“Wha’ are you talkin’ about, Y/N?” he was swaying back and forth where he stood, clearly too drunk to keep his balance.

He almost sounded annoyed, but it was moreso because she’d interrupted his treck to the bedroom where his warm bed was waiting for him to ail his drunkenness and less because of her prodding.

“Clara was there, Harry. At the club. The one you forgot to tell me you were going to? She saw you. Talking to her. Any of that ring a bell?”

She made sure not to raise her voice in fear of waking up the toddler that had fallen asleep on the sofa waiting for her dad to come home so she could show him the ornaments she’d made with Y/N while he was gone, but he hadn’t come home when he’d promised her. Y/N wasn’t trying to fight, just get some answers. Yet here Harry stood, in their bathroom, lying to her face.

“Okay. So she was there ‘n we talked. We work for the same people. You’re not tellin’ me your mad that I talked t’ her about work, are yeh? Talked t’ her about work at a work party?”

“I’m not stupid, Harry. Stop doing that.”

Harry huffed in annoyance, as if her mere presence was beginning to cause his disdain.

“Then stop actin’ like it was somethin’ that it wasn’t. Swear t’ you. She came up to me, asked how Lulah had been, we talked about work for a second, and that was it. Fuck, even told her about you for christ’s sake.”

“I couldn’t care less that you talked to her, Harry. It’s the fact that you didn’t tell me you’d be out later than you said, went to a club, talked to her, the girl that broke your fucking heart, and I found out from a friend. And when I asked you about it, you lied. Do you see how fucking bad that looks?”

“Why don’t yeh ask Clara what she saw, hmm? Since you’re so keen on taking her word for it. She’s gonna tell you that nothing. Happened. I’m truly sorry I didn’t tell yeh I’d be out late. Didn’t think I’d be gone that long and just got carried away.”

Y/N was fighting tears now. He was talking in circles, unwilling to see her side and acknowledge that he’d done wrong.

“That’s what you’ve been saying for the past month, Harry. You’re always getting carried away with work and leaving me to take care of her. I can’t tell you how many times Tallulah’s asked why you’re always missing dinner and why you don’t go take her to her ice skating lessons or help her wash her hair anymore. She misses you. So do I. And then you go and do this. I know you’re busy this time of year but I also know you’re doing more than you’re being asked of, so don’t pull that shit with me. Would it kill you to come home every now and then and at least eat some pasta with your fucking daughter?”

Harry’s brows were furrowed together, eyes dark and half-shut in what was the beginning of a drunken rage. For a split second, Y/N saw a flicker of sadness within the deep green of his irises, but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

“Yeh say that like she’s a burden. ‘S that it? You’re mad that you have t’ babysit?”

“Harry,” Y/N warned him.

He was treading territory that would be hard to back away from once he took the first step.

“What? If it was that big of a fuckin’ deal, you could have told me that you don’t like keeping after her.”

“Jesus, it’s not!”

She was yelling now, unable to keep her emotions from getting the best of her. She looked after Tallulah like she was the one that had given birth to the four year old that slept peacefully on the couch, cuddling her stuffed elephant in place of her father.

“You know that I love her and that I’d do anything for her, but it’s different when you leave me alone with her all of the time. She needs you, Har. More than she needs me, and you’re acting like your job is more important than her. You have to be there for her, Harry.”

A nasty scoff left Harry’s chest that would haunt Y/N forever. She’d never forget what he said next.

“Right. Thanks for the parenting tip. Last time I checked you weren’t her fucking mu-”

“Yeh gonna freeze t’ death out here, ya know?”

The same voice that plagued her head pulled her out of reliving the events that landed her here, on a snow-covered patio, just as the first of what she knew were going to be many tears rolled down her face.

Y/N whipped her head around, frowning when she realized that Sarah and Mitch had lied to her and that they definitely had invited both of them to the Christmas party.

“Should have known those two were up to something,” was all she replied, quickly swiping the single, stray tear that stung her cheek as it touched the cold air.

“Jesus, you’re shivering. Here,” Harry began shrugging off his coat, ready to offer it to Y/N to keep her from catching pnuemonia.

She hadn’t realized just how cold she was. Her lips felt like they were going to crack at any moment, and she was almost certain it would take upwards of an hour for her to feel her toes again.

“Harry-” Y/N started, her voice sounding soft and defeated.

“Please don’t be stupid, Y/N. You’re gonna get sick.”

He spoke to her in the way that he would Tallulah when she refused to let him brush her hair after a bath, sternly insisting that she’d wake up with painful knots in her head if she didn’t let him run a comb through it. There was something comforting about it, but also something so incredibly sad about it all at the same time.

Reluctantly and without looking him directly in the eyes, she took the long, fur-lined coat from his hands, almost flinching when she accidentally touched pinkies with him. The coat was well-loved, ridden with his scent and most likely permanently stained with a little bit of spit up from when Tallulah was a baby. It smelled like home, Y/N thought.

There was a long pause between them, neither knowing what to say or where to even start. Y/N found herself missing Harry even more now that he was standing right next to her, brawny arms leaning against the frozen railing.

“How’s Lulah?” she asked, able to find her voice amongst the anxiety prodding every inch of her body.

Harry nodded as if to say she was alright, then cleared his throat.

“Good. Misses you.”

He wanted to tell her that he missed her, too. A whole fucking lot. But he was trying to prolong having that conversation in fear that it wouldn’t end the way he’d planned it in his head and she’d walk away from him forever.

“She asks about you every day. ‘Bout when you’re comin’ home. Said she doesn’t like how quiet it is without your music playing in the kitchen.”

She was crying now. Fat, wet, silent tears in the opposite of Harry’s direction so he couldn’t see. She missed hearing Tallulah’s raspy voice asking her question after question about where eggs come from and why anyone would dare take away someone’s babies the way farmers do with mummy chickens.

“I know you’re not ready to talk,” Harry began.

“But do yeh think you could at least come home? It doesn’t feel right without you there.”

Y/N did what she could could manage the tears streaming down her face like a waterfall, hoping Harry would think her face was just cold as she aggressively rubbed her cheeks with her fists.

She was ready to give in, seeing him in person immediately shattering any bit of strength to stay away from him that she had left. Maybe she’d find some clarity if she stopped sleeping on a pull-out sofa that did absolutely nothing for her already-bad back and went back to where she’d lived for over a year with the two people she felt like she’d spent a lifetime loving.

Slowly, her eyes went to meet his. She saw how tired he looked, for lack of a better word. Even though it was dark, the light from the snow accentuated the deep circles under his eyes. His hair looked like it hadnt been washed in days, the way it used to look when Tallulah was a baby that cried at all hours of the night. His posture was, to be quite honest, shittier than it normally was. Y/N knows it hasn’t been that long since she’d been gone, but she could almost swear he looked skinnier than the last time she’d seen him, given that the hollows of his cheeks looked concave and scrawny.

Just as she parted her surely-blue lips, ready to tell him everything she’d wanted to tell him for the past two weeks, the ringing of Harry’s cell phone caused them both to jump.

“Fuck,” Harry muttered under his breath.

“’M sorry. It’s mum. She’s got Lulah. Give me just one second.”

His eyes were pleading, almost like he was silently begging her not to run off if that’s what she was thinking of doing. Y/N’s ears perked up at the mention of his mother. She wondered if she knew about any of this. Surely she did, as Harry tends to confide in her for just about everything.

She was trying not to be nosy, but it appeared that Anne was speaking quite loudly, so it was a bit hard for her not to. She couldn’t make out exactly what she was saying, but she did hear one word. It was clear as day, and she knew immediately that something was wrong.

Raspberries.

Y/N’s head whipped around in Harry’s direction, and she saw the way his face was void of all color and his chest had started to heave.

“That’s never happened before. Did you give her the antihistamine?....What’s she sayin’?....Jesus Christ, mum. You have to calm down. Just go ahead and take her. I’ll meet yeh there. They’ll probably just have t’ give her a shot or somethin’....Mum, it’s alright. You didn’t know. Just get her in the car, please. I’ll be there in twenty.”

Harry clicked his phone off and shoved it in his back pocket, a sense of urgency taking over him.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’ve got t-”

“What happened?”

Y/N was just as worried as Harry was, feeling sick to her stomach that something clearly awful had happened to her.

“Mum’s watching Rosie, too. Lulah got into the bag Gem packed for her and ate somethin’ with raspberries in it. Said her throat feels scratchy, which is-”

“That’s not normal,” Y/N stated, being keenly aware of how Tallulah only ever tends to break out in a slight rash every time she eats the bright pink fruit.

“Yeah,” Harry replied.

“Y/N, I have t’ go. But I really want to talk t’ you. You don’t have t’ say anything back. Just hear me out, yeah? Please don’t disappear on me again.”

She wasn’t listening to him, only worried about the little girl with too many allergies and a keen interest in anything sweet.

“Can I go with you?”

Her voice was quiet, as if she were afraid of Harry telling her that she wasn’t allowed to see his daughter. She knew it was his decision and that she had to respect it, but all she wanted to do was hold her tiny body in her arms and tell her how much she missed her and that she was going to be alright.

Harry stuttered a bit, clearly not expecting her to ask him such a thing. Part of him was happy that she was willingly offering to be near him, but he supposes it’s only got to do with her worry for his daughter.

“I, erm, uh, yeah. Of course. Let’s go. Mum’s taking her t’ the hospital over by her house.”

He ushered her back into the warm apartment and back out the front door towards his car. They couldn’t even be bothered to acknowledge the stares thrown their way.

The car ride was quiet. Harry had left the radio off during his drive to Mitch and Sarah’s, too busy rehearsing what he was going to say to Y/N if she actually let him talk to her. Y/N sat with her knees to her chest, but opted not to turn away from him. That was a good sign, Harry thought. The heat was on, but Y/N was still freezing. She supposes Harry was right about her getting sick.

“Could you drive a little faster?” Y/N asked after some time, fiddling with the cuff of her jeans.

“No,” Harry retorted.

“It’s snowing, Y/N. Don’t need all three of us t’ end up in the hospital.”

She had half the nerve to roll her eyes at him, but she knew he was right.

“Hey,” Harry called out to her.

He started to reach over the center console for her hand out of habit, but felt his heart sink into his stomach when he remembered the state of their relationship and slowly retracted it. He thought she didn’t notice, but she did.

“She’s gonna be fine. Mum said she wasn’t even crying. Probably just needs a few shots t’ make the swelling go down.”

Y/N nodded instead of responding, sinking further into the seat but keeping her eyes on the snowy road ahead of her.

Silence took over again as they trecked through the snow towards Tallulah, with tension so thick it felt suffocating. From the corner of her eye, she saw a pair of Tallulah’s winter gloves tucked into one of the cup holders and she wanted to cry again.

But instead of doing that, she laid her palm face-up on the console, waiting for Harry’s eyes to catch them. When they did, he hesitated, flickering between her hand and her face. She still wasn’t looking directly at him, but he knew she knew he was looking at her.

He tested her first, lying his hand next to hers, but not touching. She didn’t pull her hand away, and he swears when he looked down, he saw her hand inch towards his as if she were coaxing him. Harry thinks this might be the last time he gets to touch her if she decides that she can’t forgive him for what he said, so he goes for it.

He laces his fingers with hers, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief take over his head and his heart when he finally got to feel her skin against his after what felt like centuries. She doesn’t wrap her fingers around his like he did to hers, her hand still lying limp against the arm rest, but he’s okay with that.

It isn’t until they’re pulling into the hospital that Y/N gives Harry’s hand a squeeze.

They were getting there. At least Harry hoped.

Y/N is physically unable to keep herself from smiling when she hears Tallulah practically squeal her name the second she steps into the room she’d been given. Her voice was deeper than usual, most definitely due to the accident that landed her here in the first place. Tallulah all but jumped out of her bed to greet her with a hug, which Y/N accepted without a second thought as she wrapped her arms around the small girl and sat with her on the bed, most likely staining Harry’s coat with the emollient cream they’d coated her rash with at the hospital. As if that coat could take any more beatings.

Harry watched from the corner, feeling somewhat out of place for whatever reason. He knew he owed Y/N an apology for what he said to her that night, and at that moment he felt like he owed Tallulah one, too. How could he say those things to her? How could he let his arrogance get the best of him and ruin the best thing that’s ever happened to him?

Anne briefed him while Tallulah had her mini-reunion with Y/N, letting him know they’d given her a few shots and could go home as soon as the swelling in her throat had gone down. She wouldn’t stop apologizing to Harry for causing her grandbaby harm, but Harry assured her for the twentieth time that accidents happen and that it certainly could have been worse. Anne soon sensed the tension between Harry and who she hoped would be her daughter-in-law one day, and told Harry she’d better get going because she’d left Rosie with the neighbor. Her eyes urged Harry to fix this shit at all costs because she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and Harry was not one to disobey his mother.

“Are you coming home?” Harry heard Tallulah ask Y/N.

He locked eyes with her for a split-second.

“Yeah,” Y/N sighed.

Harry felt his heart jump as he was now paying extra attention to the woman holding his daughter like she was the most precious thing on earth.

“Gotta make sure you get tucked into bed alright.”

And then it sunk.

“Will you be there when I wake up?” Tallulah asked with eerily familiar green eyes peering up at Y/N from her lap.

This time it was her heart that sunk.

“I....don’t know, Lulah. We’ll see,” she whispered, feeling tears pool in her eyes once again.

Y/N hid her face in Tallulah’s hair, for fear that Harry would see her.

“How’s Carrot, hmm? ‘S he doing good?” Y/N blurts out in diversion, hoping Tallulah would be more interested in talking about the fish Y/N had won her at a carnival a few years ago than where she stood with her and Harry.

Tallulah talked her ear off, filling her in on everything she’d missed while she was gone. She tells Y/N that their kale plant in the garden was huge now, seemingly sprouting overnight. She also tells Y/N that Rosie can walk now, or at least can wobble a few steps before falling down on her bum.

Harry watches as Y/N pretends like everything Tallulah is telling her is the most interesting news she’s ever heard. That’s what parents do, and that’s exactly what Harry had shouted at Y/N that she wasn’t. He had fucked up in the worst way and only fate could tell him whether or not he’d be able to fix it.

It was Harry’s turn to cry now, pretending to rub exhaustion out of his eyes rather than tears. Much like earlier when he’d instinctively reached for her hand, he’d hoped she didn’t see it.

She did.

Y/N kept her promise to Tallulah and tucked her into bed after she was discharged and sent home with a steroid pack and rash cream. She willed away the wave of nausea she felt walking into the house she’d shared with Harry after all of this time, telling herself that she just needed to make sure Tallulah knew she was at least there to tuck her in. She took turns with Harry, each of them running their fingers through her curls and telling her to have sweet dreams and that they hoped she felt better in the morning. Tallulah insisted that she was fine and wanted to stay up and talk to Y/N about what she thought Santa was doing right now and if he was going to bring her the glittery nail polish that she’d asked him for, but the sleepiness in her eyes told a different story.

“Do you want me t’ call Sarah and have her take you back to your car?” Harry asked when they returned to the living room where they’d entered.

“Figured we ought to have that talk,” she said, unable to meet his eyes for the umpteenth time that night.

“Yeah,” Harry replied in a tone that almost sounds like relief.

“We can definitely do that.”

The pair find their way to the couch, sitting faced towards each other, but not touching. It’s awkward and it makes Y/N want to fall apart because this is her Harry and she’s in her own home, yet it didn’t quite feel it.

“You hurt my feelings,” is all she says, picking at a loose thread on the sofa.

“I know I did,” Harry began.

“I can’t take any of that back, but I want you t’ know how sorry I am, Y/N. None of that shit was true. I should have told you I was gonna be out late. Shouldn’t have even gone out with them, t’ be honest. I couldn’t even tell yeh why I lied when you asked if I saw her there. Just didn’t want you t’ get the wrong idea, I guess.”

“Harry, I already told you that I didn’t care that you-”

“I know yeh did,” Harry interjected, “But I want you t’ know that I’d never even think about doing something like that t’ you. You’re quite literally the best thing that’s ever happened t’ me. Sometimes I don’t even think you’re real. I wouldn’t have made it without you. Neither would Lulah. And that...”

He pauses, trying not to burst into tears right in front of her. Y/N sees his jaw tensing, something Tallulah does when she’s attempting to calm herself down after throwing a fit. She isn’t sure why, but she begins to feel at ease the longer he talks. Maybe it’s just hearing the sound of his voice after so long or maybe it’s because he’s telling her what she’s been wanting to hear, what she was once afraid that she’d never be able to.

“That shit I said about you not being Lulah’s mum. That’s a load. I know you know that. You are her mum, whether she knows that or not. I’m sure she does... I know she does. You’ve been there for everything. You never complain when it gets hard. Yeh could’ve been doing anything else besides helping my sorry ass take care of her, but you didn’t. ‘M not sure if I’m doin’ a good job of convincing you to stay, wouldn’t blame you if yeh didn’t want to, but I really hope that you do. If you don’t, I still want yeh t’ know that you’re her mum. You’ve done things for her that she doesn’t even realize. She loves you so much, Y/N. And so do I. You’re the love of my life. Always will be. I don’t think there’s anybody else out there that makes me feel the way you do. You’re it for me and I need you t’ know that.”

He’s blubbering now, not caring that she sees the salty streaks subconsciously flowing from his dark and gloomy eyes. He felt it coming. She was going to leave. She was going to finish packing tonight and walk out of his life and he wouldn’t get to spend the rest of his life showing her how much he loved her.

That’s when he feels a hand on his shoulder. It’s light, but it’s meant to be comforting.

“Can it be my turn now?” her voice laced with tears as well.

Clearly it was a night for crying.

Harry nods, because that’s all he can do.

“I was frustrated, that night. I don’t think I should have made as big of deal out of you staying out so la-”

“No. You should have. I was being an ars-”

“Harry,” she pleads, “Let me finish, please.”

He lets out a shaky, “Okay,” and she continues.

“It’s not a big deal when you go out with your friends. You’ve just been so....absent lately and that was what set me off. When Clara called me that night it was just so, embarrassing I guess? I didn’t know what to say to her, and it obviously didn’t look good. But I know you wouldn’t do that to me. You’re a good person and a good dad, Harry. I hope you know that, even if you don’t feel like it right now. And the Lulah thing...that hurt. A lot. I know you’re stubborn and hate admitting that you’re wrong, so I’m going to let that speak for itself, but I’ve never once regretted anything that I’ve done with you two. I knew it would be different being with you, but I’ve never thought of any of this as a sacrifice or a burden. You guys make me so happy. I don’t think you’ll ever understand how much of a privilege this has felt like to me, to be able to watch her grow up and be a part of it. She is the most magical thing that’s ever happened to me. And so are you.”

Harry’s staring at her, still crying, sillhouette lit up by the lights on the Christmas tree behind her that’s decorated with the ornaments she made with his daughter on that dreadful night. He doesn’t want to hurt Lulah’s feelings, but he makes a mental note to throw them away the second he’s able to so he doesn’t have to think about this ever again.

“I love you, Harry. Please don’t ever lie to me again. Even if it’s about how many minutes you are away from the grocery store. I can’t take it. And I can’t stand to feel so far away from you like this. It’s....gross. And I hate it.”

He perks up at what she’s just said, wondering if she’s saying what he thinks she’s saying.

“You’re staying?” he sounds hoarse and both him and Y/N know he’ll wake up in the morning with a headache from how much he’d been crying.

“Don’t think I have it in me to leave, bubs.”

There’s the slightest hint of a smile on her lips, and Harry’s pulling her into his chest. She holds him as he weeps silently into her neck. The cloud of sadness that had held her captive like a nightmare rushed out of her body so quickly that she couldn’t quite process it. All she felt now were Harry’s arms holding her close and his blubbering into her hair about how he was sorry over and over again.

“I know you are,” Y/N cooed, scratching his scalp in the way that she knew calmed him down.

“‘M gonna keep sayin’ it until you believe me,” he whimpered.

“I do believe you, Harry. I promise. We’re gonna be alright.”

That seemed to steady him a bit as he collected himself. He still held her as his shaking breaths began to even out. He wouldn’t dream of letting her go ever again.

“We’re gonna be alright,” Harry repeated to her, his voice almost inaudible had Y/N not been as close to him as she possibly could have been.

She pulls back to brush the stray curls from his forehead, where she pressed her lips gently to his temple as if he was so delicate that he might shatter if she used anymore force.

This time it was Y/N that saw his face surrounded by the multi-colored lights strung around the fir tree they’d picked from the farm just days before they thought their world was ending. He was beautiful, from the crown of his hair to the tips of his toes, inside and out, she thought. Maybe he didn’t feel like it at the moment, but Y/N made a promise to herself that she’d spend the rest of her life proving to him that he was.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst #harry styles writing #dad!harry #dad!harry styles #dad!harry x reader #dad!harry styles x reader

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joontier · 3 years

Text

Subliminal in Scrubs | V2; report xiv

pairings: dr. jeon jungkook x female reader

chapter rating: NC-17 | genre: humor, workplace relationships

warnings: none to note

word count: 2.4k

g/n: Send me your thoughts?

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Subliminal in Scrubs (the records) | navi. | m.list

“Do you really have to leave me?” you drag the words out as you chew your dinner, one you insisted on having inside Ayoung’s apartment on her last day. You even add a cute little pout afterwards, hoping that Ayoung might reconsider her moving last minute.

“_________, that was literally the third time you asked me tonight. One more and I think I might change my mind.”

You sit up straighter, an expectant look on your face. “Really?”

“I’m afraid not, __________. I’m even surprised you kept asking when you literally helped me pack the last of my stuff. Shouldn’t you have been doing the opposite if you wanted me to stay?”

You let out a rather unattractive burp and a pretty loud one at that, then you sigh again for the nth time tonight, knowing it’s going to be a while before you find another neighbor that is as unbothered by your poor table etiquette as Ayoung.

Speaking of neighbors, a coworker’s face pops into your mind and you’re suddenly reminded of your embarrassing encounter with Jungkook just the other day in the very corridor just a door away from where you were seated. “By the way...that guy you brought over the other day…”

“Oh him?”

You brace yourself for the bad news, tilting your head towards Ayoung while you wait for her response. “Yeah, I don’t think he’ll be moving in anytime soon.”

“Oh,” comes your reply, shockingly nonchalant enough to mask the joy of not having Jungkook as your neighbor. Giddy, you prod her on, wanting to hear the rest of the story. “Shame though, he was such a hottie.”

“How did you even meet him in the first place?”

“Just last week I went to a cafe to study and partly cure a hangover from the previous night, I checked the post I uploaded for new possible tenants and Jungkook...that’s his name by the way...he was one of the first who sent a message about wanting to see the apartment in person, so we agreed to meet up on a later date.” Ayoung pauses for a moment, stacking a box on top of another.

“But just a few moments later while I was reading, this boy came up to me and asked if I was...well me and he told me he was Jungkook. Eventually, he asked if I was free because he mentioned that he had nothing else to do that day and he would’ve appreciated it if he got to see the place and have a drink at the same time.”

There’s a funny look on her face and you raise a brow questioningly. “Have you ever seen a man more attractive in just sweats?” Oh Christ.

“I mean, most guys would look like a hobo in those, plus he’s probably dumb for just walking around in sweats with only 25 degrees outside but damn.... You know only truly hot men can pull off looks like that. And he surely was packing.” Shocked to the core, you stare at her with your mouth hanging open, not wanting to believe all of these were coming from your sweet sweet Ayoung. Especially not when they’re about Jungkook.

“So I thought, why not right? I guess the hot chocolate I made wasn’t the only thing that was warm that night…” A suggestive smirk graces her lips and you scoot farther away from her, absolutely scandalized.

Much to your chagrin, your mind betrays you with rather raunchy images. Goosebumps line the skin on your arms as the embarrassment comes back to you in waves. “Gosh Jungkook, that little fucker.”

Ayoung creases her brows. “You know Jungkook?”

Crap. Ayoung wasn’t supposed to end up knowing this.

“Yeah I know him. Sort of.”

“Oh, too bad. It would have been great if he moved in so you won’t have to deal with a total stranger for a neighbor. Where do you know Jungkook from?”

You contemplate for a moment, wanting to weigh if it would be of any benefit having to tell the story of how you met Jungkook. Ultimately, you ended up sharing a brief background, missing out on a few vital points aka Jungkook being a total prick.

You help Ayoung bring down the rest of her stuff to the lobby, wanting to see her off. “I wanted to bring you to your new apartment but I’ve got an early shift tomorrow, and being late won’t be a good record this early in my job.”

“It’s alright, silly.” Ayoung leans in for a hug. “We’ll see each other again soon, yeah?”

“You’re making it sound like I’m moving overseas, stop it!”

You wait until she gets inside the cab she booked, waving at the car’s rear until it fully disappears from your sight.

The next day you wake up freezing your ass off, even with you wrapped in a duvet burrito. You take a peek outside your window, grunting as a blanket of snow envelops everything in sight. Everything is white, and the gray trails on the road are the only thing that distinguishes the street from the sidewalk.

You do your morning routine fairly quickly, spending the rest of your spare time watching people outside your window while you finish your coffee. As a motorbike moves along the length of the street in front of your building, you silently wish the driver a safe trip, hoping he or she didn’t have to use such a vehicle in this weather.

You take another sip and Jimin instantly enters your scrambled thoughts, remembering how he mentioned he uses a scooter to and from work. There’s a side of you that is assured the Jimin is responsible enough to know how risky it is to use a scooter during the winter.

The other half of your brain, though, isn’t convinced. Quickly, you set your mug aside, replacing it with your phone and dialing Jimin’s number. He answers after three rings. “_________?”

“Hey Jimin, I know it’s too early for me to be calling you but I was wondering if you were going to use your scooter on your way to work today?”

“I was--”

“Because if you were planning to, don’t. It’s snowing really hard outside and I’m worried you’ll be taking your friend’s scooter on the slippery road….Would you mind if I’ll offer you a ride?”

You know you were risking a lot, with your own car - your very own Camry which you don’t even trust. It has aged gracefully, and was clearly nearing its end but you knew four wheels was better than two in this snow.

“I don’t...but I also wouldn’t want you to come all the way here to pick me up when I can just take the subway? Or the bus maybe…”

“Would you rather pick one that asks for a fare or a free ride?”

“You’re not exactly giving me a choice here, _________.”

“Great! ‘Cause I’m already on my way to pick you up.”

“Thank you for the ride, sunbaenim.” Jungkook pulls on the handbrake before setting his hands on the Porsche’s steering wheel for the last time.

‘Someday’, he says to himself, someday he’ll get a car of his own. Someday.

“Thank you for also letting me drive your car…”

“She’s a beaut isn’t she?” the younger doctor nods, wanting to rub his palms over the dashboard in fascination, but then he wouldn’t have wanted the senior resident to think he was some sort of lunatic.

Jungkook decides to keep his hands on his lap instead.

“You live around the area?”

“Yeah, just a few blocks from the garage…”

“Really? Which apartment do you live in? I’m quite familiar with the area.”

Jungkook is hesitant to mention the name of the building knowing that the apartment complex he stays at most likely has a reputation because it’s the cheapest he could find around the area.

Before the intern opens his mouth to reply, Seokjin’s phone rings just on time, the sound startling the latter. He opens the car door and alights from the vehicle to get more reception. Jungkook grabs his bag from the back and follows after shortly. Seokjin points to his phone, mouthing that Jungkook doesn’t need to wait for him, so the intern bows to his senior in gratitude, before heading off to the main building.

As he passes a vending machine, he remembers he wasn’t able to bring his jug with him today so he approaches the machine, scanning other options he could take with his water. He comes across a small carton of banana milk and a thought crosses his mind, a smirk playing on his lips as he adds the beverage to his purchase.

Jungkook hurries to the on-call room, hoping his tiny plan will fall into place.

“Thanks for the ride, ________. I owe you so much already. You’re too kind.”

You wave Jimin off, expressing your worry and how you thought you wouldn’t be able to handle your conscience if you didn’t ask about his mode of transportation to work today. Jimin gives you a warm smile in return.

“You’re a good friend, _________.” Jimin leans over the center console and gives you an awkward side hug, catching you completely off guard.

“Woops! Sorry! I didn’t… wasn’t…” Jimin has his hands waving around in the air as he tries to apologize for hugging you out of the blue. “It’s fine, Jimin,” you laugh as you put a hand on his shoulder to reassure him. “It’s fine. You don’t have to worry about it.”

Tilting your head outside, you tell him that you both should get going and that you’ll be heading to the toilet first to get changed. While Jimin heads to the surgery department, you make your way to the parking lot’s toilets, bumping into the one and only banana-milk-thief Jeon Jungkook.

“Hi _________, good morning!” He chirps, the uncharacteristically wide smile on his face throwing you off for a moment.

At least somebody woke up on the right side of the bed today. Jungkook chuckles, and you realize you weren’t supposed to say that out loud, but you’re somewhat proud that you did, making your sentiments towards the guy as clear as day.

“Bit rich coming from you miss grumpypants.”

Your mouth falls open. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, darling. See ya later....grumpy.” Before Jungkook leaves, he manages to give you a quick noogie, definitely messing up what’s left of the quick messy bun you made before leaving your apartment.

Taking in a deep, long breath, you calm your nerves down, deciding today wasn’t going to be the day Jungkook was gonna get to you.

After your brief encounter at the parking lot, Jungkook heads quickly to the on-call room and looks for a place inconspicuous but visible enough for you to see. He plucks a sticky note from a stack from the shelf just above the table and grabs his pen from his chest pocket.

Jungkook folds the yellow square into half and writes your name on it, just in case nobody would dare take a carton of milk for someone named after a dwarf from Snow White. He then sticks the note on the moist packaging, hopeful that the slight sheen of water will help stick the paper onto the carton.

Recognizing Jimin’s voice from the door, Jungkook quickly hides his peace offering behind the files on the table, and pretends he’s reading the patient’s charts before Jimin nears where he’s standing. You and Soomin enter the room shortly afterwards.

“Just in time!” Namjoon says, adjusting the large frame of his glasses. “Right, as you may already know from the orientation, I’m Kim Namjoon, resident, and specializing in neuro. I’ll be guiding you all throughout admissions and reports this morning while I am waiting for my Chiari decompression scheduled in a few hours.”

Namjoon gathers the rest of the surgical interns before proceeding to the wards to do rounds with the group. He partners with the head nurse and another doctor from the night shift, updating the patient’s condition before moving on to the others.

As soon as his rounds are done, he leads the group back to the on-call room to brief the interns on using the EMR system to keep a patient’s chart updated at all times. To speed up the charting, he asks everyone to come up in pairs and update the patient records.

True to the plan he’d come up with at the spur of the moment, Namjoon and the interns manage to get the job done quicker than expected. With the night shift’s updates already uploaded, the group disperses to carry out the orders and responsibilities.

Jimin, with his throat parched after having come up and down multiple flights of stairs, decides to return to the on-call room to get something to drink. He breathlessly pages Jungkook about it, telling him he’ll get back to his partner after drinking.

He no longer waits for Jungkook’s okay, too thirsty to even think straight. As Jimin goes through his stuff, he realizes he must have forgotten his jug inside your car but having to call you about it would have been too bothersome for you and him both.

There’s a water dispenser in the room but there are no cups or mugs free for him to use - and too unsanitary as well. Jimin searches the room in desperation and spots a carton of banana milk just behind some of the patient’s charts.

He makes a grab for the small carton, checking if it’s got any owner. There’s none written on the carton and no note stuck to it to indicate that it belongs to someone. He spots Yoongi on his phone just by the other corner of the room and approaches the senior resident.

“Excuse me, sunbaenim. Is this yours?” He points to the carton in his hands. Yoongi shakes his head no. “Any name written on it? Some note perhaps?”

“I couldn't find any.”

“Well, it’s yours then. All food on the table is communal unless it’s otherwise labeled.” Yoongi shrugs his shoulders as he explains, giving Jimin a thumbs up afterwards.

“Alright. Thanks sunbaenim.”

Throat as dry as the Sahara, Jimin grabs the drink and punches the straw in as quickly as he could before finishing the drink in a few gulps. ‘Thank god for free banana milk.�� He thinks to himself before throwing the packaging away, now more energized than ever.

#jungkook x reader #btswritingcafe #bangtanarmynet #btsghostie #jeon jungkook #bts aus #bts fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #doctors au

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writingblackpink · 4 years

Text

Coincidence (pt. 1)

genre: fluff (?)

word count: 3.6k

pairing: rosé x reader

Wherein your friend drags you out to dinner and you meet a familiar face....but is that all she is?

A/N: Hi :) Here’s another Rosé x reader I’ve had in the reserves for a while! A part 2 is in the works, but if you have any suggestions or ideas, drop them in my ask! Enjoy!

You don’t even know why you’re here. You really, like REALLY, wanted to stay home and call it an early night after the week you’ve had. Your boss seemed to only speak to you to tell you you’d done something wrong, a pipe burst in you and your friend’s apartment causing the both of you to rearrange the furniture once (and then back again four days later once the landlord was able to get someone to fix it.), and to top it all off, you spilled coffee down your white blouse on the way in to work today and didn’t have time to go home to change so you sat in a coffee stained shirt in four meetings enduring your colleagues’ judgmental eyes while you tried to make light of the situation by making fun of yourself for spilling the coffee in the first place. It didn’t help at all - if anything, it just made your coworkers think you were even more strange than they already thought you were. Curse your caffeine addiction. Honestly, you probably need a new job, but that’s an issue for another day. Right now, you just want to be wrapped in a blanket in your cozy bed, blocking out the outside world and getting a good night’s rest but it just seems like nothing can go your way this week.

So, you’re here, in the passenger seat of your best friend’s car, face pressed against the window as you stare up at the city lights. You actually think it’s kind of beautiful, the neon on the signs above you mixed with the light mist on the window causing the color to soften and blur just a bit. The sounds of the bustling city muffled by the alt radio station your friend likes to listen to and the sound of the car driving through the rain kissed streets. It kind of looks like the tumblr moodboards you always see while scrolling your dash late at night. If you were creatively inclined at all you’d probably take out your phone for a picture to post to your small Instagram following, but then you remember that you don’t even want to be here so you’d rather wallow and pout for a bit longer.

“You look like a sad puppy with your face squished against the window like that,” your friend whines out. You peel your face away from the window and turn towards her, not missing the pout across her lips.

“I told you I don’t even want to go out.” You mumble back.

Your friend always has a way of making you do things you’d rather not. And it’s really not like you hate doing them. You do like her company after all and don’t mind spending time together regardless if you’re doing something you personally enjoy or not. Nine times out of ten, you actually enjoy doing whatever she drags you out to do, but you’d never say that out loud. At least not right now.

Tonight was different. She had mentioned that one of her coworkers that she has the tiniest crush on invited her to dinner except it’s not a date because her coworker was bringing a friend and she was bringing you. You tried to convince her to just go herself and tell her coworker she wants it to be a date, but that was more so because you REALLY did not want to go and not because you wanted or cared to see your friend happy. You did care for her happiness, just not in this particular moment. She caught on to the act pretty quickly and wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Just like every other time, you caved.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” she said, looking at you with a wide smile and pleading eyes. “You always say you need to branch out and meet new people. This is a good opportunity to do so. I mean, you’ve had the same four friends forever. Expand your world!”

She did have a point. When you moved to the city together after college, she immediately met and made a handful of friends. Most of the friends you have currently are people you’ve met through her. It’s been over a year now and you still have yet to branch out. The more you thought about it, the more you were losing your resolve not to go.

“Alright, alright, I’ll go. You can stop pouting. But if this dinner is lame I’m SO calling myself an Uber and getting the hell out.”

You left it at that as she squealed and grabbed her keys, telling you that there were reservations soon and, oh, also that she’s only giving you ten minutes to get ready. You grumbled your way up to your room, cursing under your breath and immediately regretting agreeing to this mysterious dinner.

She pulls into a parking spot and cuts the engine on the car, abruptly stopping the soft sound of the radio and leaving you two in the silence with only the rhythmic tapping of rain drops sprinkling across the windshield. You get lost in the serenity of the moment before your friend rips you away.

“Hey, let’s go. We’re already like,” you follow her gaze to where she glances quickly at the time on her phone, “ten minutes late, thanks to you.” The last part muttered more softly and sarcastically than the rest.

You roll your eyes and go to unlatch the door, immediately letting the cool air slide into the car. It’s a brisk fall evening. Not too chilly, but the quiet mist falling from the sky mixed with the cool breeze makes you want to crawl back into the car and never come out. Goosebumps break out along your skin when the wind brushes against you. You really should’ve brought a jacket, you think. You round the car and your friend immediately links your arm with hers, happily swinging them back and forth.

“I’m so glad you decided to come out,” she says cheerfully, and put that way, you can’t deny that her happiness doesn’t also make you feel glad you decided to come out.

You step into the restaurant together, the change in temperature causing you to briefly shiver as you adjust to the warmth. It’s nothing too fancy, just a casual sushi place across town you’ve been to a few times. The place is modern and open, with tables scattered uniformly around the room. Definitely targeted to people your age. It’s moderately busy for a Friday night, but not too busy, which you appreciate. The last thing you wanted to do was spend the evening yelling at each other over the loud voices of strangers in a crowded restaurant. If you had to leave the house, you decided this was an okay place to be.

“How many in your party?” The server asks. You stay silent while your friend smiles politely and mentions that you’re actually meeting someone here, eyes already scanning the room. The server smiles and backs away, letting your friend search for whoever you’re both meeting.

“Ah, there they are!” She exclaims, her eyes lighting up as she pulls your hand and weaves in between tables to get to your destination. As you follow her gaze, your eyes land on a table with two women facing away from you, one blonde, one brunette. That must be them, you think to yourself.

As you get closer to the table, you hear a fit of laughter erupt from the blonde. The sound is familiar, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. The sound was so warm and inviting, maybe that’s why it seems familiar you think to yourself as you both continue moving towards the table. Your friend rounds the square table and who you believe to be her coworker looks over with wide eyes realizing who’s finally arrived.

“I’m so sorry, we would’ve been here on time, but THIS one took her sweet time getting ready.” She uses her thumb to point in your direction and you immediately scoff, of course going to defend yourself.

“Excuse you, you literally told me ten minutes before we had to leave that we were even coming here, so sorry that—“

“Anyways,” she cuts you off “what’s important is that we made it...eventually. This is my best friend Y/N. Y/N this is Ashley, my coworker.” You immediately hold your hand out for a handshake, but she grabs your wrist and pulls you in for a tight hug. In your peripheral vision you see the blonde facing your direction, but she’s slightly out of focus so you can’t tell if she’s actually looking at you or just in your direction.

“Any friend of Joy is a friend of mine.” And you think that this girl is a little too friendly for your liking. Not that you didn’t like affectionate people, it’s just that, you didn’t like affectionate people tonight.

As you pull away you glance over to the blonde, eyeing you like a piece of meat, eyes lidded and a small smirk gracing her features. She’s really pretty, you think for a moment. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders in waves, each strand perfectly in its place. You take a moment to admire the shape of her eyes, almost almond-like, but accentuated by the light smokey makeup look she was going for. She’s just wearing a simple top and jeans, just like everyone else here, but there’s something about her that captivates you. There’s something in the familiarity of her laugh, the warmth of her eyes that makes you think––

Realization hits you. You definitely know this woman. How, you can’t remember, but she seems to see that spark light inside you as your eyes widen slightly in her direction, and she immediately reaches her hand out to shake from across the table.

“Hi. I’m Rosie. It’s nice to meet you.”

“I’m so sorry, but have we met before?” You spew out, eyebrows furrowed and looking directly into her eyes before really thinking and she snaps back quickly in her soft voice with “Uh, no. I think I would’ve remembered a pretty face like yours.”

Smooth, you think sarcastically. You’re not really in the mood for cheesy one-liners and her lips ticking up in a closed-lip smile just makes it worse. She moves to shake your friend’s hand too and then her gaze lands back on you. She said she didn’t know you, that you two have never met, however the smirk and quick wink she gives you when the other two in your party divert their attention elsewhere tells you a different story. Sensing some weird tension, you feign a cough and divert your eyes to your chair, moving as everyone decides to take their seats.

As dinner progresses you make small talk with the group, just wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. No need to drag this out when your bed is waiting for you at home. Rosie keeps looking at you with admiration, and throughout the whole meal you’ve been wracking your brain to try and remember where you know this girl from. “Come on, Y/N, THINK.”

Just as you were about to decline on dessert and ask for the check, Ashley and Rosie ask for the dessert menu. The waiter brings over four menus and you sigh, giving in and scanning the items. The table has since gone silent in deliberation, and while you’re trying to decide on the cheesecake vs. the chocolate cake, you feel what you think is someone kicking you under the table. You brush it off as an accident and go back to scanning the menu. Except it happens again, and this time whoever is doing it lingers a little longer at your shin, and yeah, that’s a bare foot. You look up to find everyone else looking down, but you glare at Rosie sitting directly across from you just a moment longer. If only you can figure out where you know her from…

You brush it off a second time, not wanting to make a scene, but it happens a third time, and this time when you look up, you find dark eyes peeking at you suggestively over the menu and it suddenly feels like you’ve been hit by a truck. You’re starting to remember bits and pieces, but you can’t create a coherent memory.

A few weeks ago your friend had convinced you yet again to “let loose” and “have some fun” and go out with her and some other friends to some bar that had just opened. You may have gotten a little too loose, to the point where you can’t remember all the fun you actually had. You don’t even really like to drink all that much, you’re usually the designated driver, but there was something about this night that told you to throw all caution to the wind.

You remember getting into an Uber with your friends and heading to the bar. You remember having a few drinks. You remember meeting who you now know as Rosie at the bar, and then everything after that got fuzzier. You both spent some time whispering in each others’ ears in the darkest corner of the bar, drowning out the pounding of the music and the voices of strangers and their drunken dialogue, and you remember leaving with her and taking her to your apartment, but the next thing you remember is waking up in your own bed with a pounding headache and in nothing but an oversized t-shirt, water and pills at your bedside table and a post-it note left on your bedroom door with a “Had fun last night. Hope the hangover isn’t all that bad. Call me -xx”, followed by a phone number. For the life of you, you couldn’t remember the girl’s name, but you felt warm when you thought about the night before, so you added the number in your phone with the lip emoji next to it for no reason other than you wanted to remember the warm feeling that ignited when you thought of her.

Chugging the water and exiting your room late in the afternoon, Joy greeted you with a “So, you had fun last night, huh? I heard you bring someone home? I can’t believe it!” she teased you, “You are able to have a good time!”

You scoffed it off with a “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” rubbing your temples and trying to ignore the ringing in your ears and the blush rising in your cheeks. Your friend never pushed you more about it, and you were grateful for that. You didn’t really have much to tell her anyways.

You’re also not one to bring home pretty girls from bars, but, again, something about that night made you throw every inhibition you had out the window. Maybe it was Rosie herself (from what you can remember, you liked her), maybe it was the alcohol. You couldn’t know for sure and it didn’t really matter. It wasn’t something you regretted, but you also weren’t super proud of it.

You immediately feel heat rush to your face and you feel her foot move up your leg once again. Just as the waiter walks over to the table, you feel the heat in the tips of your ears and just know you won’t be able to make a viable excuse if anyone catches you blushing THIS aggressively. You shoot up out of your chair so suddenly that it draws the attention of everyone at the table, specifically noting how startled Rosie looks at you jolting away from her touch.

“Um, I’m, uh, going to go to the restroom. I’ll pass on dessert.” With that, you turn quickly on your heels and make a beeline for the restroom. As you make it halfway there, you faintly heard Rosie say that she’s going to make a pit stop as well and you hear her chair move as she rises to follow shortly after.

“Shit...shit, shit, shit,” you curse under your breath as you hurriedly make your way into a stall, trying to think of ways you can avoid this humiliation as much as possible. Your non-confrontational attitude causes anxiety to peak in your chest. That, combined with Rosie’s unpredictable actions tonight, has you feeling a bit light-headed. Your breathing shallows. As you’re pacing in the confined space, you hear the door open and close, but no movement. Is she….is she waiting for you?

You decide to take a deep breath and unlock the door, but you gasp when she immediately puts her hand on your shoulder and pushes you against the cool tile wall across from the stall. There’s no one besides you two in there, and you’re worried she can hear your heart basically beating out of your chest. Hell, YOU can hear your deafening heartbeat echoing in your ears.

She moves in like she’s going to kiss you and you immediately tense up. This was not what you were planning on happening when you agreed to dinner tonight. In retrospect, you really should’ve called the Uber as soon as your friend pulled into the parking lot.

You could feel Rosie’s breath on your lips and it was all too much for you. The way she was looking at you, eyes heavy and lidded and oh, so seductive - her scent, faint vanilla and lavender notes that wafted through your nostrils. You couldn’t decide if you wanted to push her away or pull her impossibly closer. You could feel yourself getting lost in everything that was just her and your eyes screwed shut as everything became too much.

You were surprised when she didn’t kiss you. Instead, you felt her lean towards your right side and bring her mouth so close to your ear it made you shiver. The arm that wasn’t on your shoulder moved to rest her palm flat on the wall next to your face. You opened your eyes, but you could no longer see her face. The hairs on the tip of your ear reach up to meet the warm breath fanning across it. You felt your breathing pick up the closer she got.

“Why didn’t you ever call me, baby? You have my number, right?” she whispers seductively, sending a tingle down your spine. It’s so silent, you almost didn’t hear her with how loud your heartbeat is thumping in your ears.

Just as you open your mouth to stumble out a reply, she takes your ear lobe between her teeth and gives it a playful bite. You let out an embarrassing whimper as she does so, feeling yourself immediately melt into her. As she’s pulling away, the door to the bathroom opens and Joy walks in, but stops in her tracks when she sees the two of you.

You both snap your heads toward the intruder. You’ll admit, you’re in a bit of a compromising position, and you can’t tell right now if it would’ve been better for a stranger or Joy to find you like this.

You clear your throat and fidget away from Rosie, straightening out your shirt and moving to the sink to wash your hands while clearing your throat again. Rosie walks past your friend in the mirror and out the door like nothing ever happened. After washing your hands, you also walk past your friend without saying a word, leaving her shocked in the bathroom.

You walk back to the table and find that Rosie has easily fallen back into conversation with Ashley, while you feel like there’s a permanent blush brushed across your features. You try to ignore that though, and join in the conversation just as Joy is making her way back to the table. She glares at you a moment, still confused, and even though you see her trying to get your attention, you ignore her and hope she just takes it as you being too immersed in the current conversation to notice.

The rest of the evening goes by smoothly. No suggestive touching or longing glances, but you’re now realizing that that was what made this dinner interesting, and realizing so made you sad to see them go.

Soon enough, you’re saying your goodbyes with hugs outside of the restaurant with promises to meet up again soon. Rosie gives you a lingering hug and whispers in your ear once again, out of sight and earshot from the others.

“I’m serious, Y/N, call me. I want to get to know you better.”

She pulls away and you nod, despite still not having made up your mind on whether or not you were actually going to call her. She didn’t need to know that right now. Your mind is a mess and you’re still trying to sort out exactly what happened that night. Even if you weren’t going to call her, it’s not like you’d tell her anyways. Your non-confrontational nature wouldn’t allow it.

You smile and part ways, making your way to the car, hoping your friend wouldn’t question what she saw, but deep down knowing she will. It’s stopped raining now, and all that’s left is the wet pavement reflecting the streetlights above you. You know the barrage of questions is coming, but you’re trying to savor this moment of calm before the storm.

You take a seat in the car and look over to your friend who’s already staring at you. It’s a bit of an ominous scene in the late evening, the only light coming from the minimal street lights outside your window. You stay silent. There’s no way you can really anticipate what’s going to come out of her mouth first. Your thoughts are cut short when she starts speaking into the silence.

“So, are you going to tell me what I saw in the restroom earlier, or am I going to have to pull it out of you?” she asked accusingly.

“Joy,” you responded sincerely, “can you keep a secret?”

#blackpink writing #blackpink imagines #blackpink #blackpink scenarios #blackpink rosé #rosé park #roséblackpink #gg scenarios #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #rosé x female reader

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fangirlovestuff · 3 years

Note

Hi first of all I love your works and it's so great, can i ask for male reader? If i can, Ari Levinson X Male Reader, After a long day work at the Resort, Ari and reader decided to had a Cuddling night with each other and talk about their relationship (some beautiful memories , etc) and then led into Ari Proposing to reader, and Ari forget the ring so instead he gave reader a necklace, And then Continue cuddles and kiss until they both fell asleep (reader sleep on ari chest while ari holding him tight). Just Pure FLUFFINESS. Lots of love for you ❤️

Forever

a/n - Hey lovely people! at last, a fic! this goes out to @evansphnx12 - thank you so much for the amazing request<3 this is my first time writing for Ari and I love him🥺 lots of love for you too, i’m so sorry it took so long and i hope you like it!! very slight proofreading on this one, sorry in advance if there are any mistakes! also, in the story, Ari calls reader a nickname in hebrew, and it’s in a male form (like, you would say it differently if you wanted to adress a female), which i thought was a nice touch:) Enjoy!<3

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: none:)

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

You and Ari stepped into your room, both exhausted. Ari let out a tired sigh as he plopped down on the bed, motioning for you to join him. You gladly did, laying down facing him. He clutched your hand in his, bringing your joint palms up to his lips and kissing your knuckles, slowly lowering it back.

"Hey," you said, your voice soft.

"Hi," Ari smiled, his eyelids slightly droopy yet his eyes still twinkling in the adoring look you've come to know and love.

"God, this was a long day," you sighed.

"Yeah, but I got to spend it with you," Ari caressed your cheek with his hand.

"What's gotten you so sappy?" you giggled.

"Well… you probably don't really remember this but today two years ago was the day I met you."

"Really?" you propped yourself up on your elbow, looking down at him, amazed he remembered. You and Ari took quite a few months to admit your feelings, and you've now been dating for some time over a year, and you didn't remember the date you met, just the date of your anniversary, the date of your first date, which you told Ari, "I didn't remember," you chuckled. "I only remember the date of our first date."

"God, that seems so long ago," Ari chuckled in response. "But it's one of my favorite memories."

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

You had just gotten out of the shower when you saw Ari's text. "Be down in five", it read. You smiled, quickly getting dressed and going down to the lobby, where Ari was waiting for you.

Sure, you had doubts about this. Plenty of them. Going on a date with your coworker was never the safest decision. But the nerves in your stomach quelled and turned into butterflies, fluttering around in you stomach at the sight of him, long jeans and polo t-shirt fitting snugly over his biceps, a slight smile playing over his lips.

"Hey," you greeted him when you got closer.

"Hey," he smiled. You started walking out of the resort, and without even thinking about it, you turned towards the parking lot, assuming you were driving somewhere.

"Wait, uh- this way," Ari said, pointing in the other direction, the direction of the beach.

"Oh, okay," you smiled, a little unsure. You walked in companionable silence, the sound of the waves crashing filling the space between you. Tentatively, you reached your hand out, and you kept in a relieved breath when Ari took it in his.

"I, um," Ari started. He looked around for something, smiling slightly when he found it and pulling your joint hands, leading you towards the rocks. He took out a picnic basket from behind one of the rocks, wiping a bit of sand from it before sitting down on the rock. Wordlessly, you sat down next to him.

"I just thought we should stay close by," Ari said. "So, I got this from the kitchen," he gestured at the food inside the picnic basket.

"It looks great," you said sheepishly.

You ate in silence, watching the bright moon reflect onto the calm black sea. Upon feeling Ari's eyes on you, you turned your head to meet his gaze, his blue eyes shining in the moonlight.

"Did you ever want a moon?" he asked.

"I'm not sure what you mean…"

"The moon is what causes the tide. It controls the height of the sea, keeps it in check. So the tides are high when they need to be and low when they need to be. This shiny rock in the sky soothes the water," he chuckled. "I always feel like my tides are too high," he added in a whisper.

"I do want a moon then," you smiled. "So I could give it to you."

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

"Yeah, it's one of my favorites as well," you chuckled, your hand resting on his bearded jaw as you reminisced. "Huh. I never thought you'd remember the day we met. It's not like it was such a good one," you smiled.

"Well, that's true. But that doesn't mean it wasn't special. I mean, after all that's when I met you," Ari smiled back.

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

The sun was hitting you with a ferocious heat you still weren't quite used to. You shielded your eyes with your hand and got out of the car, looking at the agents that were there to greet you. There were only two of them outside, the rest probably in the resort, and you weren't really given much information about any of them. Hell, you weren't even that sure what your own mission was, besides "helping".

"Good morning," you nodded at them and introduced yourself.

"Nice to meet you," the girl said and shook your hand.

"Agent," the guy said, extending his hand as well.

As you walked into the resort, they started showing you around a little bit. “And this is the-” the girl started, when suddenly her phone rang. She answered it and by the expression on her face, you could tell something was wrong.

“Ari,” she motioned at the man, and clearly he got what she meant because he grabbed your arm and started walking. At least now you knew his name was Ari.

After many twists and turns, he got to the door he was looking for. Honestly, if he wasn’t leading you to it you wouldn’t have noticed its existence, which - as became clear when he opened in to reveal a tiny storage closet - was well intended.

“Get in,” he said, his gruff voice urgent. You did as he said, and then he got in after you, closing the door behind him.

“What’s going on?” you asked.

“They’re coming to search the resort. They can’t see you yet, you don’t look like you belong here.” He eyed you up and down, as if to confirm his statement.

“Well, does it matter? I mean, isn’t this supposed to be a resort for tourists?”

“Of course it matters. You’re not supposed to be a tourist. We either had to hide you now or hide you every single time they came, because if you’d look like a tourist they’d expect you gone in a matter of days. If someone who isn’t staff stays too long, they could get suspicious,” he explained.

He seemed impatient to you, like he was explaining something that was common knowledge. It made you want to roll your eyes in exasperation, but you contained the urge, knowing you should at least try to leave a good impression on your first day on the job.

“Makes sense,” you nodded instead.

You looked at Ari as he reached into his back pocket for his phone, checking it for updates. Now that you were locked in a very small supply closet with him, you noticed how… huge the man was, for the lack of a better word. His broad frame filled so much of the space you were almost bashful, feeling like he might reprimand you at any moment. His presence loomed over you, and if you weren’t a trained agent you’re pretty sure you would’ve cowered from him.

You spent about 20 minutes in there, staying silent the whole time. Sometime in the middle you heard voices from outside and tensed up, feeling him do the same beside you, but they faded after a few seconds. You let out a silent sigh of relief. It was pretty dark, so you couldn’t see Ari’s reaction.

But you could see enough of him, it the time you were in there, to realize he was hot, and you were very screwed.

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

“Ah yes,” you smiled, “the fateful supply closet.”

Ari laughed. “Yeah, the fateful supply closet,” he echoed your words. “You know, we spent… what, twenty minutes in there? twenty five?” You nodded to affirm him and he continued. “It felt like forever. Being cooped up in such a small space was… overwhelming. At the time I didn’t really understand why,” he smiled and you returned it.

“Well, I see your fateful supply closet and I raise you the time you first called me ‘ahoov sheli’,” you grinned.

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

“Good morning sunshine,” you smiled as you opened the curtains, waking Ari up from his sleep.

“Good morning, moonbeam,” he laughed. You plopped back down on the bed next to him.

“Do you still need a moon?” you asked, cupping his face in your hand.

“Not really. I have you, ahoov sheli,” he smiled.

“What?”

“Hebrew for ‘my love’. If you don’t like it, I-”

“No,” you cut him off with a smile, “I love it, ahoov sheli. Just like I love you.”

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

“I always loved that nickname,” you giggled. You looked at Ari, who had a far-off look in his eyes. “Penny for your thoughts?” you asked with a smile.

“Marry me,” he blurted out.

You stared at each other for a moment, the silence between you charged with the question, which seemed to echo in your mind a thousand times before he spoke.

“You know what, i didn’t really think about it until right now, but screw it,” he said with a soft chuckle. “Why shouldn’t I ask? I love you. You are, without a doubt, the best thing that has ever happened to me, ahoov sheli. There isn’t, and there won’t be, anyone else for me. You’re my person, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. No takebacks,” he smiled.

“I love you,” you said softly, tears shimmering in your eyes. “And I would love to marry you.”

Slowly, Ari reached out and cupped your cheek, bringing you closer until your lips met in a tender kiss. His soft lips moved against yours, your tongues meeting in a languid dance while your hand tangled in his hair, fingers weaving between his smooth locks.

“I don’t have a ring,” he admitted with an uncharacteristically timid smile, “but here,” he reached and took his necklace from his neck. Gently, he reached and put it around yours, his hand caressing your collarbone before pulling away to take hold of your hand.

“This will do for now,” he smiled and you nodded in agreement, beaming. “But that doesn’t change what it stands for - i’m yours, forever,” he pulled your hand up and kissed your knuckle.

You were tired, being after a long day of work, but you felt so giddy at his words, at his promise, that you felt like you could jump up and down. Instead, you kissed him once more before you pulled away, unable to stifle your yawn.

“Let’s go to sleep,” he chuckled, and pulled you close into his arms. Your head was resting against his chest, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulled you to sleep, your excitement wearing off as you drifted into a peaceful slumber in the arms of the love of your life.

Your life was unpredictable, you knew that, even more so as you were an agent. Even so, if someone had told you before you got here that you would find your person, your love, you would’ve probably laughed. But you did.

And there’s nowhere else you’d wanna be more than right here.

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

hope you liked it! feedback is super appreciated<3 also, the next thing i’m gonna work on is probably the next part or rumor has it, but no guarantees as to when i’ll post it because life is absolutely kicking my ass, which is why i’m not posting as much in general:)

Taglist: @horny-nd-bored @shannon124 @perfectlyharolds @wintersoldierslut @iceebabies @sleepingpapermouse@steverogerswasalwaysworthy @holtzkinnon @angelicl-y @stydia-4-ever @thatoneperson5000 @fangirlfree @kaitcordx25 @bequeening @steve-barry-damon-logan @itscrazycherryblossomcollection @hollandxmarvel @stargazingfangirl18 @readsreblogsfics @onetwo3000 @beritmetal @harrystylesholland @jazbot2000 @anobscurename @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @peggycarter-steverogers

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#chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #chris evans x male reader #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson x male reader #ari levinson fluff #chris evans fluff

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buckysbitch107 · 4 years

Note

Chris Evans with a girlfriend that has a really bad stutter like me. Like it may take about 5 mins for me to get a full sentence out. Thank you!

Sentences | Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: Yes, you have a stutter. So what? Just because it takes a little longer for you to say a full sentence, doesn’t mean people need to be rude. Chris has always been the person you go to when you feel down or insecure, even before the two of you started dating. So when an interviewer asks a question that hits a little too close to home, Chris is right there to defend you.

Warnings: SWEARING, Angry Chris, A Small Bit of Fighting, Little bit of fluff at the end

Word Count: 1.5K

A/N: This is my first time writing a stutter, so I hope I got at least some of it right! The person I used as a reference was Drew Lynch (One of my favorite comedians). I know there are different types of stutters, but his is the one I was most confident writing. I’m aware there are a lot of dashes in the dialogue. That’s the way I write stutters. I really hope you enjoy this one! Sorry if it’s bad or inaccurate!

“Thank-thank you M-Mr. Evans. I’ll see you tom-tom-tom-tomorrow.” You speak, pacing back and forth in your hotel room as your best friend sits on the bed. Her eyes widen as you end the phone call, dropping your phone on the bed before moving your head to look at her.

“And?”

“I go-go-got the-the pa-part.” You whisper, looking up at her with a surprised look on your face.

~~~

“Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh my god.” You mumble to yourself, pacing back and forth in the dressing room. You just finished up the last scene of the day, a very important scene. The kiss scene. It was going great, and then the next part of the script came up. The part that had Chris’s character, Nick, step closer to yours and take your face in his hands before leaning in and kissing you. The part that the two of you did perfectly. It felt so real… almost too real, and Chris hasn’t talked to you since that scene unless it was for acting purposes. You continue to ramble random points to yourself until a knock sounds at the door, distracting you for a bit. “Come in!”

“Hey, I heard you- oh my god what happened?” Scott asks, closing the door behind him as he steps inside. You turn towards him and sigh, your hands still doing the weird flappy thing they did whenever you got anxious.

“We-We did the-the-the, the scene.”

“What? What sce- oh. OH. OH MY GOD! THAT SCENE?!”

“Yes, that sce-scene!” You exclaim, continuing to pace back and forth.

“I know this is gonna sound weird. But thoughts?” You turn to look at him, the look on your face making him unconsciously take a step back. Your face remains in a state of rage until you actually begin to survey your own thoughts, and your face drops.

“It-It was-s great. Dammit, Sco-ott! It fe-fe-felt so-so real!” Your hands migrate to your forehead, pushing your hair back before running to sit on the back of your neck.

“Well, why don’t you ask him?”

“He’s-he’s been av-avo-avoiding me all d-ay.” More tears stream down your face as you continue to hyperventilate. You wouldn’t usually react like this, but the biggest crush you’d ever had in your entire life was possibly rejecting you, and you couldn’t even talk to him about it.

“I’ll go talk to him. Why don’t you grab a bottle of water while I go find him, okay?” You nod as Scott gestures to the minifridge in your dressing room. He walks out and you sigh, grabbing the water and chugging most of it. Meanwhile, Scott wanders around the set, looking for his younger brother. He finds him soon enough, talking with a coworker about something to do with directing. Scott motions to his brother and Chris nods, finishing up his conversation before walking over to his sibling.

“Yeah?" Chris asks, putting his hands in his pockets.

“You need to talk to Y/N.”

“Why? Is something wrong?”

“She thinks you don't like her.”

“What? What do you mean? Of course I like- oh. OH!”

“Yeah. Now please go fix it before she digs a hole in the ground by pacing that much.” Chris’s eyes widen a little more before he nods, running off in the direction of your dressing room.

~~~

“Oh go-go-god, you were ho-ho-hori-horrible at playing that-that trumpet.” You giggle, trying not to pee yourself in the passenger seat of Chris’s car. The man next to you scoffs, rolling his eyes as he turns the steering wheel.

“I wasn’t that bad, was I?”

“You-you-you-you sounded like a, like a, like a dying pi-pi-pig.” You continue to laugh in your seat as he pulls the car into an empty parking spot.

“That’s a little harsh.” He responds, turning his head to glare at you playfully, resting his hand on your thigh.

“I had-had to p-p-p-play it for-for-for you.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Chris turns off the car and leans over, pressing a kiss to your cheek before opening his door and stepping out. You open your door and step out as well, Chris walking around the car to grab your hand. He links your hand with his and slowly pulls you along, walking to two of you into the shooting studio. As the two of you enter, the studio’s cat steps into your line of vision. You gasp quietly, picking up the tabby before sitting in a chair behind the camera, set up on the small couch with some snacks and the cat. You barely pay attention as Chris sits down in the interview chair and the cameras start rolling, too distracted by the cat sitting in your lap. Zoning out, you don’t pay attention to any of the questions until you hear your name come into the mix.

“Now you met your wife on the set of Before We Go. Was it hard to make her stutter a part of the character?” Jason Nichols questions.

“Most people assume that it would be hard to incorporate a stutter into a character, but Y/N was actually super flexible and would sometimes even ask if we could do some more takes because she didn’t like the one we had. It was amazing what she did to make the movie an even bigger success.” Chris answers, causing a small smile to rest on your face.

“Now there are many eligible women in Hollywood, so why Y/N?”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, she’s already paid less than you, and I don’t imagine that stutter of hers makes it any easier to land roles. I would have imagined you would go for someone in your pay grade.” Ouch.

“Alright, we’re done here.” Chris says, cutting the interview short by standing up from his chair. They quickly cut the cameras as your husband nods to you, telling you to pack up.

“I’m just saying-”

“You aren’t saying anything.” You can visibly see Chris getting more pissed off by the second. You try to pull him away from the scene, but the interviewer keeps trying to insult you. It’s all a blur before Chris finally snaps, punching the interviewer and knocking him to the floor before storming out of the studio.

“I-I am so-so-so sorry.” You whisper to one of the producers. She brushes it off with a quick “he deserved that.” before walking over to the interviewer and talking his ear off as she hands him a couple of tissues. You stand there silently, wondering what you should do when one of the producer’s assistants ushers you out.

“It’ll be fine! We’ll call back to see if Chris wants to reschedule, with a different interviewer of course.”

“T-Thank yo-u.” You whisper, offering him a small smile before walking over to your car, your fuming husband sitting in the driver’s seat.

~~~

“Darling? What’s wrong?” Chris asks, standing in the doorway of your bedroom, his bandaged hand brushing up against the door frame. You look up from your spot on the bed, giving him a small “mm” before looking back at your latest read. “Okay, what is up with you?”

“No-othing.” You mumble.

“Well it’s obviously something. You’ve barely said a word since the interview and you didn't even finish your dinner! Did, did I go too far at the interview?”

“W-What?! No-o! Not at-at all! It’s ju-ust-”

“Just what?”

“Do you-you think Nich-ichols was-was righ-t?” You question, finally deciding to look up at your husband. The look of confusion on his face would have made you laugh if your heart wasn’t silently ripping apart in your chest.

“What?! Of course not Y/N!” He exclaims, taking a mere four steps across the room to sit in front of you, Chris quickly taking your hands into his. “Why would you ever think that?”

“I-I don’t kn-kn-know…” You’re about to continue speaking when Chris starts moving, and it’s only a quick second before your husband has you sitting in his lap with his arms wrapped around you.

“Everything that man said today was bullshit Y/N. I chose you for so many reasons, and I don’t regret a thing, you understand?” You nod, slowly tucking your face into the crook of his neck. “I love you. So damn much baby.”

“I lo-ove you t-too.” Chris smiles at you once again before softly kissing you, pulling back just slightly to look at you.

“Why don’t we head to bed? It’s been a long day.” You nod and Chris stands up, walking out to call Dodger into bed and returning quickly with the dog and his lion. The two of you were already in your pajamas, having decided to change when you got home. Chris turns off the lights and slips into bed next to you, his arm immediately taking its designated place on your side. You cuddle into him and sigh, feeling comforted by your husband. Dodger sits on the edge of the bed, laying almost all the way over Chris’ feet. The three of you fall asleep like that, the hours before having worn you out, finally feeling at peace.

Permanent Tags: @wintersoldierslut @breakmy-bedbarnes@stuckys-hot-dogs @andreasworlsboring101@yaxamarvel @donutloverxo

Just a reminder that all requests are open! My masterlist is in my bio, so you guys know who I specialize in, but really I do anyone y’all request. As I’ve mentioned, nothing is too fluffy, angsty, smutty, or gorey for me. I mainly write Marvel and its characters/actors. I can also write some characters from other things, you just have to ask! Also please let me know if you want to be a part of the Permanent Tags! But please, for now,

Call me Emily

#chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans one shot #chris evans #chris evans fic #marvel #fluff #stutter

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homogrimoire-archive · 3 years

Text

Kingfield's Fourth Anniversary - Day 1

Just An Urban Legend

Feng, David, Dwight, and Jake find themselves at the fire together after a trial. Stories from back home are exchanged to pass the time, and some of those stories manage to find their way into the trials.

AO3 Link

This time around, it was Dwight, Jake, David, and Feng around a fire. They all had finished a trial some time ago, Dwight and David were with a different set of survivors, and Feng and Jake from another set as well. Jake was contently resting on the outskirts of the camp, Dwight and David were leaning against each other by the fire to keep even more warm, and Feng was sitting on a log bored out of her mind.

She really didn’t like this place. Its not like she was ever particularly outdoorsy. Sure, she had her smartphone, which miraculously never died, but it was entirely useless. No offline games on it, no music, and the clock was obsolete in a place where time didn’t matter. The flash didn’t stun killers, and throwing it at them just made them angry more than anything.

Still, she held onto it. A piece of home. All of them had something from home they kept on themselves. For Jake, it was a well used Swiss Army Knife, an expensive and genuine one at that. For Dwight, it was his old wristwatch. Apparently, he had it since forever. It looked as old. And for David, it was a roll of sports bandages. It never seemed to run out, despite how much he used it.

“I’m bored. Any of you got any stories?” she eventually asked since she figured the others would like to kill the time too.

“Hmmm… ” Dwight contemplated. Feng noticed that David patiently awaited his boyfriend’s response. How someone could manage to fall in love here was beyond her.

“I saw bigfoot once.”

“No you didn’t.” Jake quickly protested as he shot up from where he slept. “It was probably an emaciated bear, or some guy in a suit, or a trick of the light with some branches or something.” He then promptly went back to lying down.

“Yeesh mate, how long’ve you been holdin’ that one in?” David wondered.

“I just have very strong strong and very right opinions on dumb myths like that.” he rationalized.

“Well it’s true!” Dwight pouted. “I was working as a janitor for this huge park and this kid got lost in the woods so they arranged a search party. I went to help after my shift with a co-worker. We were searching for hours, and it was getting dark, so we decided to head back. Keep it one missing person instead of making it three, you know? So, we were on our way back when we heard this terrifying scream! It was like something I’d expect to hear here, honestly. So me and my co-worker are scared shitless. We’re back to back with our flashlights looking around to see if we can find the thing. And just when we think we’re kinda safe, I turn my light to see two glowing eyes staring right at me and the outline of a huge man.”

“No!” Feng says, almost in disbelief.

“Yes! I scream and cling onto my coworker, and then he sees it and screams, and we trip over ourselves and fumble as we run away, still screaming like little girls!” Dwight laughed. “No joke though, it had to have been at least twice as tall as me.”

“What you heard was probably a cougar, or some other large cat. Or some animals mating. Those things are freaks.” Jake shuddered. He heard animals getting it on more times than he would have ever liked to.

“Well, I know what I saw, or my name’s Aloiscious the Third! And its not.” the honest man proudly stated.

“…Whatever.” Jake sighed.

“Well, I believe you, luv.” David comforted with a kiss to his cheek.

“Thanks David.” Dwight cooed as he leaned back into his boyfriend.

“You know, I saw something’ kinda scary too when I was a kid.” David mentioned. “Not so scary now, but that’s kinda expected.”

“I’m down to hear it. Fire away, champ.”

“It began on a dark night. Me ‘n some blokes were bored and decided to pay a visit to an abandoned church.”

“You know how cliché that sounds, right?” Dwight questioned.

“And wanderin’ to the woods at night ain’t?” David fired back.

“…Touché.”

“Anyhow, we were walkin’ up to the place when we saw the thing. It was a Black Dog. Thing was guardin’ the place of course. Pry thought we were gonna tear it up, so it howled bloody murder and ran straight for us barkin’ like it was rabid!” David laughed at the memory. “Needless t’say, our arses were humbled for a few good days.”

“You saw a feral black dog? I guess that’s kinda scary.” Feng commented. She liked Dwight’s story better.

“Yeah… Could be scarier.” Dwight admitted.

“Wasn't just any ol’ bloody black dog, A Black Dog. Guess you lot might not know what they are. Legend says the first buried at a churchyard had t’guard it ‘gainst the devil. Since no one wanted to be the poor sod stuck doin’ that, people buried a dog first. Then again, could’ve just been a regular ol’ demonic black dog. Lot more of those furry bastards.”

“I could believe that.” Dwight conceded.

“Yeah. If I’m remembering correctly, there are tons of spirits and a ton of different types back home. I never really bothered to learn about it though.” she nonchalantly admitted. It never really interested her. “But, this one gaming cafe I was staying at did have a legend around it. Supposedly, a guy solo queued nonstop and died there. Sounds like a noob if you ask me. Honestly, he wasn’t even Top 500. He wasn’t even Grandmaster!” she laughed, and then saw David and Dwight looking at her in confusion. “Oh wait, you’re all kinda old huh? Guy played alone in a team based video game nonstop, and died. He wasn’t even that good at the game.”

“Ah.”

“That makes a bit more sense.” David said gratefully. Things could get rather confusing when you had friends from a few decades ahead or behind you.

“So anyways, legend has it that if you sat in the chair he died in, his spirit would possess you, and you’d get his skills. But, you’d also game yourself to death like him.”

“Did you ever sit in his chair?” Dwight wondered.

“Pft, and gain the skills of a noob like him and get wrecked? As if! I might as well have went AFK for a week. I had some juicy Prestige to keep up you know.”

Before they could pester Jake for a story, the Fog began to roll in.

“Aw shit, here we go again .” Feng said as she rolled her eyes.

“Ain’t no rest for the wicked, huh? See you guys there.” Dwight said with a wave. With his other hand, he still held onto David despite knowing the Fog would separate them regardless. They had all worked together before, so Dwight didn’t need to explain a plan of action.

“I hope it’s one a them Legion bastards. Love seein’ ‘em lose.” David grinned, sure they would have a successful trial. He gave Dwight a kiss on the cheek in celebration of the impending victory, making the shorter man blush.

“As long as we survive, I don’t care who we're up against.” Jake said as he threw in an offering, hoping it would land them in the forest. “See you all on the other side.” And with a salute, they were whisked away.

The Fog cleared to reveal the Red Forest. Dwight knew that somewhere, Jake was happy. He just hoped the Huntress wasn’t here this time. She was far too efficient on her home turf. Dwight wandered shortly before coming across a generator to work on. Surprisingly, he managed to complete it before something happened. Based on the scream, David was hooked. But thankfully, he wasn’t too far away from him.

Sneakily, Dwight made his way over to the hook, keeping an eye out for this trial’s killer. In a close call, he saw the eldest Legion member passed right by him. Dwight let out a sigh of relief once he was in the clear, and then rushed to David.

“My knight in shining armour’s come t’rescue me, has he?” David chuckled, but instantly regretted it and winced from the pain of the hook.

“You can thank me later. Come on, let’s go!”

“Oh, I will~” David said smugly.

“You’re terrible…” Dwight said in a restrained voice, not wanting to reveal his anticipation and spurn the other man.

Eventually, it came to the last generator, and Dwight ended up being the one to keep the Legionnaire busy.

“Come out come out wherever you are! Don’t worry, I bite!” the young man teased. Dwight tried to keep calm as he hid in the locker. Slowly, the legionnaire passed by the lockers, dragging his knife across the metal doors.

“Gotcha!” he steamed as he yanked open a locker door, revealing it to be empty. “Fucker…” he cursed as he slammed the thing shut. “Now where could he have gone?” he wondered as he idled in front of the locker Dwight was hiding in.

“How about… Here!” he screamed as he opened the locker Dwight was in, causing him to scream in turn. “HA HA HA! Classic!” the Legionnaire rejoiced as he tossed Dwight over his shoulder.

Dwight tried to break free, but was unable too. The closest hook was nearby, leaving him with not enough time.

“Alright, let’s hear you scream again!” the killer announced with eager anticipation. But just before setting Dwight on the vile contraption, there was a roar that seemed to shake the area. “What the fuck was that? What the fuck is that?” he said once he caught a glimpse of the roar’s source. Dwight saw it too, a tall thing with glowing eyes.

“Hmm?” the killer hummed, and brought up his free hand to the side of his face like it was a phone. “… Really? … Alright, alright! I get it! Sheesh… Consider it done, boss.” the killer said and hung up, and threw Dwight to the ground. For a moment, he thought he was about to get mori’d.

Instead, he got a kick to the dick and a boot to the face as the killer ran off laughing joyously. Meanwhile, Dwight curled up into a ball as he clutched his groin. A few moments later, he got up and hobbled away. A terrible experience, but better than being mori’d. When he reached the group, they had just finished the last generator, sounding off to let the killer know as well.

“Shite, wot happ’ned to ya?” David fretted as he immediately went to Dwight’s side, the deep bruise on his face and funny walk evident. “I swear, I’ll find a way to make the bastard pay!”

“Well, a kick to the dick and face. I’ll live. But, something else happened, something odd.” Dwight began. Then, they felt the heartbeat, letting them know the killer was near. Then, something passed then, something neither survivor nor killer.

“Get back here so I can skin you alive! Papa needs a new pimp coat!” the Legionnaire giggled.

“Hey, watch this pro strat!” Feng told the other survivors. “360 no scope!” she announced with a twirl, and tossed her phone. It flew in the direction of the killer, just so happening to land in front of him. He stepped on it, and slid head first into a tree. A crack formed on the mask as he groaned.

“Suck it!” Feng taunted as she brought her hands to her hips as she thrusted outwards. The others celebrated with her. This was the most fun she had in a long time.

“You little bitch! I’ll-” he began, but was cut off with a swift knee to the dick. He let out a long, high pitched squeal as he slowly crumpled to the floor, clutching his family jewels.

The thing had come back to help out. It gave a thumbs up. They all knew what that thing was now that it was in front of them.

“Nice.” David said as he gave it a thumbs up in return before it ran away again. Dwight looked at Jake with a shit-eating grin once it had left, and they were on their way to the exit gate.

“Okay, you know this doesn’t count!”

“Gotta take the L, my guy.” Feng said as she patted Jake on the back.

Back at the campfire, Dwight recounted what happened, to the shared anger and surprise of the others.

"Least that bigfoot bloke seems like a good fellow. Has my respect."

"I hope we see him again. He seemed cool." Feng hoped. It would be something to spice up life in hell.

"And what do you think, Jake?" Dwight smugly asked.

"I refuse to acknowledge that thing." he simply stated. Dwight let out a little laugh that David found cute.

But, to the surprise of everyone, the Fog rolled in. It never rolled on so soon after a completed trial.

"Oh come on! We just finished one, you bastard!" David yelled out.

“It’s probably because of what happened last round.” Dwight sighed. None of them were in terrible condition or overly exhausted, but still. It would have been nice to have a longer break.

“I’m sure we’ll do fine like last time.” Jake assured.

“I just hope it’s not that doctor. He really creeps me out.” Feng said. The others agreed, and were taken by the Fog.

On the other side, they found themselves in a warm climate, a ghost town in the wild west. Dwight and Feng found themselves spawned near each other, and were quick to get working on a generator. As it neared completion, their hearts hastened as they heard the fear-inducing lullaby of The Huntress.

She was unbothered by the vastly different environment. She sniffed the air, and snapped her head in the direction of the generator. An axe was readied, and thrown in the direction of the generator.

“Run!” Dwight yelled as the generator announced its completion. An axe buried itself in the spot where he was. Feng was faster than him, so Dwight found himself the target of the killer once more. He cursed being fun to chase. He noticed that for some reason, the Huntress particularly liked to hunt him. He didn’t want to dwell on why.

He was eventually axed and downed in a single hit. He screamed when she yanked it out, revealing that its iridescent red color didn’t just come from his blood. She scooped him up in her arms and held him like a baby, resuming her song to try and comfort him. He tried to wiggle free, but it was harder than it looked. Sometimes, he wondered if the Entity even gave her any supernatural strength. He wouldn't be surprised if she didn’t. He was soon on the hook in a basement, crying in pain. She stood there for a moment to admire her work, or something, before leaving.

Dwight knew to wait for someone to unhook him. It was safer, even more so with David around. But basements were a more dangerous place to be when the Huntress was involved. She always seemed to know when someone was there. He figured that another generator or two had to be finished by the time he heard someone approaching. It generated a spark of hope that quickly dissipated as he heard her song.

And down the stairs came Feng, a wound in her shoulder, also in her arms like a baby too. As she screamed on the hook, the Huntress also winced, muttering something unintelligible before leaving.

“Hey Feng…”

“Hey…”

“How- Ack!” he cried as the hook moved a little in him.

“Fine.” she sighed, already knowing his question. “Two more gens. … I hate this place.”

“Yeah…”

They waited for a rescuer in the ambient silence of the basement. With two left, it would be easy to lure the Huntress far from the basement so they could be saved. Their hopes rose and fell, just as before. She came down singing with David slung over her shoulder. One of his arms appeared to be wounded.

“Fockin’ bitch!” he screamed as she tossed him onto the hook and left without a second glance at him. “I swear ’m gonna- Argh!” he yelled as the hook dug into him as we squirmed.

“Okay, let’s just, keep calm. Wait a few moments, and then we’ll try to free ourselves.”

“As you say luv.” David agreed. Feng hummed in agreement as well.

“So, how’s it hangin?” he dared to ask after waiting a little bit.

“Ughhh, you did not just say that.” Feng groaned.

“David, I swear!”

“Sorry…”

“You’re lucky I love you. Alright, on the count of three guys. One… Two… Three!” Dwight yelled as they tried to unhook themselves. Each of them failed, screaming in pain as they fell right back onto the hook, Entity’s claws showing up to induce more fear.

“It’s okay guys. It’s- It’s alright.” Dwight said, trying to sound calm himself even though he was not, panting, sweating, and a few tears breaking free. He didn’t want to feel that emptiness that even love could not stave away. Neither did the others. Then, the last generator sounded completion. A few moments later, Jake came hurrying down the stairs. The Huntress would surely be there soon.

He unhooked David first, who unhooked Dwight with one arm as Jake got Feng. They didn’t even bother to heal, not that it mattered when she could one shot them into dying this trial. But at the top of the steps she awaited. With a hunter’s cry, she threw an axe down the stairs, the survivors narrowly dodging it. Still, she sang her song and grinned a mad smile

Just when she was about to lunge at them, she shifted to block an attack from something. It was a dog. It chomped right through her axe handle. She wasn’t singing anymore. She quickly retaliated with a headbutt, knocking it away. She cast aside her broken axe with a snarl and lunged at the other beast. They wrestled each other to the ground, aiming for each other’s throats. Seeing their chance, the survivors took it and ran.

“I thought you said those things were demons?!” Dwight questioned as David carried him in one arm.

“Most a ‘em! The church ones ain’t the only ones to do protectin’.”

“Who cares! Let’s just hurry up and escape!” Jake yelled as he led the way.

They soon reached an exit gate and hurried to unlock it. About a third of the way through, they heard an animalistic yet human roar. She had won. Around her mouth was black blood. But, she did not come out unscathed. She bore many scratches, a number of them deep and flowing with dark red blood. Even half of her mask was broken, revealing a red iris surrounded by black.

“Come on come on hurry up!” Feng shouted at the switch as she ran towards them, laughing maniacally with an axe in hand. Their hearts were pounding, the knowledge that at least one of them was probably going to die about to set in. Jake took out the flash light to try and stun her, but fumbled and dropped it.

And out of nowhere, she was knocked to the ground by a blur of black. It was the black dog again. It was on top of her, and then in one swift motion, she was on top, and tore out it's throat with her bare hands. She tossed aside the flesh and fur and resumed her true hunt. She was only a few feet away when she fell forward, the dog’s maw mangling her ankle. She let out a scream as she tried to hit it with her axe, but missed. Then the alarm sounded and the gate opened.

“Go, go, go!” Jake ushered.

“Wait!” David shouted, and switched Dwight for Jake’s flashlight. He ran back, and aimed the light at the Huntress as she thrashed about. Once she was blinded, David whistled for the dog and patted his thigh to usher it to come. It did, and ran beside David as they ran through the exit gate to the safety of the campfire.

David and Dwight laughed in celebration, the dog rejoicing with them. Feng breathed a sigh of relief as Jake mended her wound.

“Wanna refuse to acknowledge this one?” David joked as he ruffled the dog’s thick, dark fur. Jake finished patching up Feng, and went to go patch up David while Feng took care of Dwight

“Refuse to acknowledge what?” he asked, playing dumb. “There’s no such thing as a Black Dog, just black dogs.” Just as he was about to apply something to David’s arm, the dog growled at him, causing him to back away. The others lightly laughed.

“Alright, fine! … It’s real.” Jake told the dog. It seemed content with being acknowledged, so it let Jake do his work, proceeding to rest at David’s feet.

“So, what can you tell us about your dog, King?” Feng asked.

“Hmm… their name is Heir, being heir to the King’s throne an’ all. Fights like a King too!” he praised he he ruffled the dog's fur.

“You mean we’re keeping them?” Dwight asked with a bright smile.

“Well, I hope so.” David said as he continued to pet it. “Don’t think Heir’ll be goin’ to trials though. Pry for the best.”

“Aww, so cute! C’mere!” Dwight called. It got up and went to sit before Dwight. He let the dog sniff his hand, and it licked it before ploping back down in front of David. “Oh my god they like me!” Dwight squealed, looking like he was about to cry.

“‘Know I said most were demons. A few are good, like this little bloke ‘ere!” he praised as he scratched behind its ear, which it seemed to like. “Either protect a church, or guide the wayward. Fittin’.”

The Entity seemed to be willing to allow them the repose, since it didn’t quickly call them into a trial. Even after the next trial the dog remained by the fire, awaiting David’s return. If David were out in a trial, Dwight would oft find the dog at his feet, lounging around. The big, dark furball comforted other survivors after dreary trials, even if it too could not dissipate that empty feeling.

And even so, the trials soon became much more lively, as did the times round the fire

#kingfield #dwight fairfield #david king #dead by daylight #feng min #jake park #dbd #the huntress #frank morrison #3.7k words #Kingfield's Fourth Anniversary #like totally forgot to post this yesterday lol

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chicken-fifi · 4 years

Text

High School Romance - Nichkhun Imagine

A/N: A little gift from me to you guys to celebrate my 18th birthday.

Summary: Nichkhun and reader teacher who’s relationship is talk of the school.

Word count: 1,040 words

The bell rang signalling the end of another class period in the school day. Giving the hallway another quick glance for any loitering students of yours, you kicked the door stop into your classroom and closed the door, ready to start your break period. As soon as you made it to your desk, there was a knock at the door, making you let out a deep sigh. Getting up from the swivel chair, you made your way over the door and opened it letting in the brunette man.

“Nichkhun,” you began walking back to your desk. “Please tell me you brought me lunch.”

He shook the bag in his hands, “Picked it up during my last break.”

You hummed in delight, taking the bag and putting its contents on your desk ready to start eating your meal. Just as you went to take a bit of the mouthwatering sandwich, Nichkhun brought his face close and placed a kiss on the corner of your mouth, causing your cheeks to flare.

“Nichkhun!” you scolded putting the sandwich down, “We’re in a school with gossiping teachers and students at every crook and cranny!”

He shrugged his shoulders, placing his chin on your shoulder, “You didn’t give me a kiss before you got out of the car this morning.”

“We were in the school parking lot.”

“The kids already ship us. I mean we eat lunch together everyday.”

You picked up a carrot and bit into it, not wanting to agree with his truths. It was no secret among the staff that there was obviously something other than a friendly coworker relationship between the two of you - and clearly you students had also taken note of it.

“Can I get my kiss now?” he asked, sticking his lip out and giving you his famed puppy eyes.

Oh how you hated when he did that. Giving him a quick peck on his lips, you went back to your food.

“Be a little more discrete will you,” you reasoned, cupping his cheek. “I don’t need the teasing from my students about us dating. Their jokes about my height are already enough.”

Nichkhun kissed your palm, “I don’t blame them. You ask them to write at the top of the board almost everyday because you can’t reach it. Not to mention when you have one of them pull the maps down.”

You gave him a small glare, finally biting into your sandwich and beginning to eat it, “At least I can in the back seat of cars without a hitch.”

He gave a laugh, reaching for his own sandwich and beginning to eat it, small talk filling the silence as your lunch hour progressed.

~~~

The next day, you were busy grading some tests when you heard the quiet whispering among the students in the study hall period you were given.

“Karen said she saw them kissing in his car,” one of the girls said quietly. “She said it was very clear that it wasn’t new either.”

Your cheeks flushed as you made eye contact with the girl who was relaying the small bit of information to her friends. Quickly covering a part of your face, you went back to grading the tests, struggling to concentrate on the questions as you continued listening in on their conversation, which was becoming very apparent that it wasn’t just any couple they were talking about. It was for certain you and Nichkhun that had been caught in the middle of a make-out session in the car just before entering the building.

Closing your eyes, you made a mental note to scold your boyfriend during lunch.

~~~

“‘Think about the bright side?!’” you repeated. “‘THE BRIGHT SIDE?!?!’”

Nichkhun nodded, “We don’t have to hide too much now.”

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?”

“Very.”

You groaned sitting on a desk across from Nichkhun, “Did any of your students talk about it?”

“We all had a class discussion about it in here instead of starting a new lesson.”

You head snapped up, eyes wide at his revelation, “YOU DID WHAT?!?!”

“I just told them were dating and we started talking about dating and crushes and exes...it was a weird class hour not gonna lie.”

You slammed your head on the desk, letting your dramaticness kick in, “I’m finished.”

Nichkhun wheeled himself over in his swivel chair and laid his head next to yours, “I made them promise not to tease you or they would have to write an essay everyday for a week.”

“Liar.”

“Okay maybe not an essay, but I did give an alternatum if they tease you about it.”

You looked at him raising an eyebrow, “Do I even want to know?”

He shook his head, bringing his hand close and booping your nose, “Can we eat now? I’m starving.”

~~~

While the first few days were filled with teasing from you students, it quickly stopped and turned into a nightmare for them.

“Please tell Mr. Horvejkul to stop talking about you all hour,” one of your students begged as he walked into class one day. “I’ll pull down the may everyday and write on the board without a word. Just making him stop.”

You nodded your head, “I’ll bring it up.”

Patting his shoulder you went up to the front of the class and began the lecture for the day’s lesson and quickly finished letting them work on the assignment that was due the following day.

“Any questions?,” you said, finishing your instructions.

A girl raised her hand instantly.

“Yes?”

“Are we invited to your wedding when Mr. Horvejkul proposes?”

You stared at the girl before answering with a question of your own, “Why?”

“I’d imagine it’d be a beautiful wedding and what other way to celebrate than by having your favorite class there.”

“Are you guys wanting him to annoy you all with his endless speeches about me?”

There was a chorus of ‘no’s’ from the males and ‘yes’s’ from the females, just as a knock came at your door. Seeing Nichkhun through the window, you smiled unconsciously.

“High school romance,” the girls said in a singsong voice, having spotted her english teacher in the door’s window panel. “Can we get an extension on the assignment if we cover for you two while you both flirt in the hallway?”

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this little work. I decided to post after all since there really wasn’t any reason not to. I hope you all have a great day! Any other November babies out there? Any of you have a birthday today?

#kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #2pm #2pm masterist #2pm scenarios #2pm imagines #nichkhun #2pm nichkhun #nichkhun imagines #nichkhun scenarios

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snifflyjoonie · 3 years

Text

A Rose by Any Other Name

In which Min Yoongi finally takes Park Jimin out on a real, proper date.

(a little) snz-centric featuring a slightly allergic Yoongi and an incredibly endeared Jimin.

Word Count: 3855

FlowerShop!AU Part 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

a/n: I...have no excuses. I’m in a mood. Bear with me again, lol. There will be a break from the boys I swear. That being said though, I still hope you guys find some enjoyment out of this silly little thing! 💕 side note if you happen to read this: for the next chapter are we wanting a yoongi focus or a jimin focus? I’m not going to give away whaaaat will be happening exactly, (you can maybe get a hint via the moodboard on my masterpost page lol) but -- If you have a preference please let me know!

It took two full weeks for Yoongi’s cold to fully make its way through Jimin’s system. To Jimin, it really hadn’t been that bad. Once his fever had broken by day three, the remaining symptoms were simply a mild nuisance more than anything else.

As he recovered, he made sure to thank Namjoon profusely for stepping in to help with his deliveries. The day off to rest had really been his saving grace, and there just weren’t enough gift baskets in the world that could truly express the proper amount of gratitude Jimin wanted to convey to his long-time friend.

Just as Namjoon had promised, the deliveries went off without a hitch, and the man had ended up genuinely enjoying the work. So much so in fact, that he offered to keep it up during the day in order to ease Jimin’s workload. Touched that Namjoon even wanted to do so, the florist had happily agreed, and the two men hurried to work out the necessary details one-on-one. Not long after, Namjoon officially became the shop’s first real employee: a much-needed delivery driver who always seemed to have a smile on his face no matter the occasion. They were an unstoppable duo.

And then, there was Yoongi.

As the two men took the time they needed to recover from each of their respected colds, they rarely missed a day of messaging. Once Yoongi had broken the ice about wanting to take Jimin on a date, there really was no stopping the mutual pining that only seemed to increase the more time they spent apart. To help combat this, Yoongi made sure not to shy away from showing up on Jimin’s doorstep once or twice to drop off things like Nyquil or ibuprofen. It was his own silly nod to the florist’s previous impromptu visit, and Jimin was always grateful whenever he’d choose to swing by, no matter how brief.

However now that it was two weeks later and both men were healthy, Jimin was in the process of getting ready for their first official date.

He had been on dates before, of course — At twenty-five he had in fact been on a lot of dates — but something about this one had felt different right from the get go. Yoongi was unique. There was just something about him that had drawn Jimin in from the moment the man had set foot into his flower shop nearly a month prior. He held himself with a mysterious air of nonchalance that reminded Jimin of strolling through an art museum or laying down in the street while it rained. He was special, and Jimin had picked up on that right away. The florist was eager to learn more about what kind of a person he was underneath the cryptic layers he guarded himself with. In fact, he almost felt privileged that Yoongi seemed to want to share a new vulnerable side of himself with him, and open up more fully.

They had planned for dinner at some fancy restaurant that Jimin wasn’t familiar with but Yoongi swore up and down by. The man’s excitement of the choice in turn amped up Jimin’s own, and it left the florist feeling like a perfect fifty-fifty mix of anticipation and uneasiness.

Not wanting to overdress, Jimin ended up deciding on an outfit that felt both comfortable yet put together. It hugged his body in all the right places and made him feel confident and secure. His figure was one of his strongest personal assets, and he enjoyed showing it off when he could. Today was definitely not an exception.

Jimin ended up ready for the date nearly a full hour before Yoongi was supposed to pick him up, and it left him spending most of his time pacing his apartment out of pure nervousness. He really liked Yoongi, and because of that, really didn’t want to mess anything up. He may’ve been a risk taker, but he was also prone to letting his anxieties get the better of him. This was especially true when it came to dates, and even more so when it came to Yoongi.

In an attempt to distract himself, Jimin spent the rest of his time flipping through channels on his television. He tried to pay attention to a handful of shows, but his mind was elsewhere — too full of what was to come to keep up with any of the bad sitcom plots.

By the time Yoongi texted him to let him know he was on his way, Jimin had flipped through at least thirty of the channels. The butterflies that swirled in his gut as he read the message caused his stomach to bubble with sour nausea. He let out a stuttering sigh and tried to calm himself down, running shaky hands through his hair before dragging them roughly down his face. He needed to snap himself out of it and he knew it. If he didn’t, he feared he might make himself sick.

Taking another unsteady breath in through his nose, Jimin allowed his mind to wander to Namjoon and the way his friend had described his ex-coworker. He had said Yoongi was quiet, but had a heart of gold; was funny, but not someone you’d want to piss off. To Namjoon, Yoongi was actually a bit of an enigma, and he didn’t shy away from letting Jimin know this. The sensitive florist had been thankful for the forewarning as he’d had his heart broken one too many times to warrant it happening again. However, instead of being scared off by the prospect, he was left feeling only intrigued — who really was Min Yoongi if even his co-workers hadn’t truly known him?

Jimin was abruptly pulled back to reality by a knock that echoed through his apartment. He swallowed thickly when he felt his heart leap into his throat and allowed himself one final deep breath to calm his nerves before rushing to the door. It was now or never.

As he pulled it open, there stood Min Yoongi.

The man was dressed in a form fitting button up that he paired with a stylish black blazer and matching slacks. It was the most put together Jimin had ever seen him, and the sight made his heart race. He took it all in, eyeing the man up and down. He honed in on the little things like the specific way his bangs rested against his eyebrows, and the way his colourful tattoos poked out from beneath his tailored sleeves. He was breathtaking, but even so, what stunned Jimin the most was the single red rose that he held delicately in his left hand.

“Hey, Jimin.” Yoongi finally spoke, smiling softly at the florist.

“Yoongi,” Jimin breathed, a ghost of a smile pulling at his lips. “hey.”

Yoongi’s smile extended wider still, his gums poking out from beneath his lips as his eyes crinkled at the very corners. He extended the rose out to the other, and Jimin accepted it graciously.

“Before you ask, a friend of mine grows them.” He laughed at his own explanation and ran a knuckle against the underside of his nose. “I called in a favour. His are not quite as nice as yours, but I figured it would do.” He winked and Jimin instantly felt his cheeks warm as he averted his eyes, instead choosing to focus his attention on the gorgeous rose. If Yoongi kept up the sweet talking he fully expected to turn just as red as the flower in his hands.

“Anyway,” Yoongi continued as he stole a quick glance over his shoulder towards his still-running car. “Ready to get out of here?”

The city’s bustling nightlife sped by in gorgeous streaks of blues and reds as Yoongi drove the two towards their destination. Jimin was near mesmerized by the sights outside of his window as he typically didn’t spend much time on this end of the city, let alone spend said time out during the evening. He wasn’t really much of an extrovert by nature and ended up spending most of his evenings either scurrying around his shop or simply at home with a good book. He had initially pegged Yoongi as being the opposite — someone who used to bartend with Namjoon had to be as outgoing and boisterous as he. However, as he spent more time with the other, the confidence he originally had in this assumption began to falter. Now, he really didn’t know what to make of him. Getting to know Yoongi was like trying to read text in a language he wasn’t fluent in.

The pair spent the beginning of their drive in silence, the quietness of the car only being broken by Yoongi’s occasional sniffling as Jimin’s gaze stayed firmly locked onto the unexpected rose that he held in his hands. The man knew Jimin was aware of his allergy, and yet he had arrived on his doorstep with the beautiful flower anyway. Jimin was grateful, but he did find it a bit peculiar — why put yourself through the nuisance of an allergy for a simple gift? Because he was a florist? Because flowers were something he was passionate about? Maybe that was just the kind of person Yoongi was: someone who valued others’ joy over their own suffering. Jimin really didn’t know what to make of him or the gesture.

Getting fed up with the silence and his own over-analytical thoughts, Jimin forced himself to pull his attention from the rose and instead to Yoongi, and mustered up as much courage as he could to try and start up a conversation.

“So…” He managed to huff as he crossed his legs, warranting a curious side eye from the other. “Do you take all of your first dates to this place?”

The question made Yoongi snort and he shook his head a bit at Jimin’s bluntness.

“Only the special ones.” He retaliated, stealing another glance at Jimin from behind the wheel as he swiped his thumb against his nose.

“And...how many of those were there?”

There was a pause as Yoongi allowed himself a moment to search for the right answer.

“Well, just you.”

Jimin felt his face flush instantly as he let his gaze fall back down to the rose held softly in his hands. He heard Yoongi chuckle fondly at his lack-of response and felt his blush deepen still. He seemed to know just what to say to make the blood rush to Jimin’s cheeks within seconds. He’d been able to do so since the day he walked into Jimin’s flower shop, and Jimin knew he was in trouble the very moment Yoongi had opened his mouth. It had been a long time since anyone had had this type of affect on him, and the prospect of what that meant made his stomach flip. Unsure of how to respond, Jimin simply continued to let Yoongi chuckle to himself and carefully fiddled with the petals of his flower.

Just then, Yoongi’s laughter died on his tongue as a sudden wavering breath shuddered its way out of him. Acting fast, the man clamped his free hand down hard around his nose and ducked into himself, clearly trying to turn out of Jimin’s view as he forcefully stifled a sneeze into his palm.

“huh—NGx’ttschhiuew!— shit, sorry.”

“Oh, bless you.” Jimin offered sympathetically as Yoongi straightened himself back up and sniffled into his hand. “It’s the rose, isn’t it? I should’ve left it at home.”

Yoongi waved off the other’s suggestion and fished a tissue out from the pocket of his blazer, bringing it up to dab at his nose.

“No, no, you’re fine. I expected you to bring it.” He scoffed, visibly annoyed by his own allergy. “It’s really my own fault. I didn’t think only one would get to me like this. Must just be the closed space of the car.”

Jimin hummed in agreeance as Yoongi sniffled sharply against his tissue. He couldn’t help but feel bad even though the other had really dug his own grave by bringing the flower as a gift in the first place.

“I mean,” Jimin started. “if it’ll help I can just get rid of it when we get to the—”

Yoongi’s free hand snapped to his chest and he gripped his shirt as if he’d be shot.

“Jimin.” He cut off the other with an over dramatic grimace plastered on his face. “Get rid of it? You wound me.”

Jimin shook his head, unable to suppress a laugh as it bubbled its way to the surface. He had only ever gotten small glimpses of Yoongi’s sense of humour in the short time they’d known each other, so he had found himself mostly unsure of what to expect. The man had always seemed so serious and stoic whereas Jimin considered himself to be a bit of a goofball. Laughter was important to him, and the fact that Yoongi was coaxing out waves of it only solidified Jimin’s infatuation.

“Hey,” Jimin managed through another laugh. “you know I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just...I remember how you got the last time, that’s all.”

“You mean how we got last time?” Yoongi retorted as he raked his fingers through his hair. There was a playful grin stuck on his face that made Jimin feel slightly self-cautious as he recalled their first encounter. Yoongi wasn’t lying — they were both a mess.

“That’s not fair.” Jimin groaned with a shake of his head. “I can’t help it.”

“Well, technically, neither can I.”

The florist let his rose fall delicately into his lap before folding his arms across his chest and sighing. Yoongi had a point, though their circumstances were vastly different.

“Anyway, it doesn’t really matter,” Yoongi chuckled as he expertly brought his car around a tight bend. “We’re here.”

Jimin blinked in surprise and turned his attention back out of the passenger window as the pair turned into the restaurant's parking lot.

Just from the outside alone Jimin could tell the restaurant was on the higher-end, and he couldn’t stop a small noise of surprise from slipping past his lips.

“It’s really good.” Yoongi assured him with a small sniff. Jimin wondered if the man misinterpreted his noise as apprehension. “Think...Asian-fusion. I figured since you liked sushi...” He trailed off, directing a small ticklish cough into his fist.

Jimin hummed and nodded, feeling his stomach flip as Yoongi shimmied his way out of the vehicle. After weeks of build up, the florist could scarcely believe they were finally here together going on a legitimate date. The whole situation almost felt surreal and it made his head swim as he exited the vehicle and stepped out into the cool evening air.

Jimin could smell Yoongi’s sweet cologne as the pair walked side-by-side towards the restaurant. It reminded him of fresh rain in the summertime and sweet, ripe tangerines. The smell contrasted slightly with his more intimidating outward appearance and it made Jimin smile to himself as Yoongi pulled open the heavy doors and gestured for him to go through.

Once inside, Yoongi was quick to take the reins. He led them towards the host stand and let the employee know that ‘Min’s reservation for two’ had arrived. Jimin wasn’t aware Yoongi had even made reservations. He felt himself blush as the host smiled wide, greeting Yoongi with an almost teasing-sounding ‘Mr. Min’ before grabbing two menus and instructing the pair to follow him ‘right this way’.

The table the host led them to was set off to the side in a slightly more secluded, private area. A candle burned brightly in the center of the table, illuminating the place settings and creating a romantic ambiance that made Jimin thickly swallow a lump that had lovingly decided to form in his throat.

As the host motioned for the pair to sit, Yoongi suddenly snapped at the waist with a vicious sneeze he directed into a tissue that made both Jimin and their host flinch.

“Fuck, ‘m sorry.” The blonde managed, snuffling against his tissue as both men offered taken aback ‘bless yous’.

“Catching a cold, Yoongi?” The host asked. Jimin found it a little odd he chose to call him by his first name, but Yoongi didn’t seem at all phased and instead just shook his head.

“No, it’s…” he sighed, clearly fed up with himself, and simply gestured to Jimin’s rose.

The same rose that Jimin hadn’t even realized was still clutched in his hand.

“Oh my god,” He exclaimed, taking a slight side step away from Yoongi. “I swear I didn’t even realize I was still holding onto this, I—” He swiveled in the direction of the host and extended the flower out to him with pleading eyes. “I’m so sorry, would you be able to keep this in the back until we’re finished? I don’t want to make him—”

Yoongi sneezed again.

“—don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”

The host happily obliged without hesitation, and Jimin was just able to make out the look of appreciation Yoongi shot him as they both took their seats.

As soon as the pair was settled, the host wasted no time listing off the restaurant’s specials as he held the rose behind his back. Jimin’s mind was buzzing too loudly to register much of what the man said, and when he ended by asking if he could grab any drinks, all Jimin could think to say was “water, please.”

“Are you sure?” Yoongi asked as he shoved his tissue back into his pocket. “Tonight’s on me, Jimin. Get whatever you like.”

Jimin flushed but insisted he was fine. Yoongi just shrugged and ordered himself some sort of cocktail that Jimin had vaguely registered as being both the restaurant's signature as well as on special that evening.

The host smiled and Jimin thought he saw him waggle his eyebrows at Yoongi before walking off to enter in their drink orders. Yoongi rolled his eyes.

“Do you...know him?” Jimin questioned curiously.

“Who, Jungkook?” Yoongi asked, jutting his thumb in the direction that the host had gone. Jimin recognized the name from the host’s name tag and nodded in confirmation.

“Sort of.” Yoongi affirmed. “I’ve tattooed him a couple of times. Good kid, just goofy.”

Jimin hummed in response. He was aware that Yoongi was a tattoo artist but beyond that the man had never gone into much detail. For one reason or another, Jimin found it intriguing to get to see Yoongi’s clientele out in the wild.

Before long, Jungkook returned with their drinks, causing Jimin’s eyes to widen as he set down not only a glass of water but a second cocktail as well. He opened his mouth to object, but snapped it shut again when Jungkook winked and assured them it was on the house. Yoongi merely rolled his eyes for a second time and mumbled something about how he would make sure to sneak the kid a tip on their way out.

Now alone for a moment as they waited for their server to arrive, Yoongi wasted no time letting Jimin know what he thought was good, what the place was famous for, and what he recommended the other to try. Jimin couldn’t help but feel endeared by his uncharacteristic enthusiasm and insisted Yoongi order him whatever he thought was best. Once their server arrived — a cheerful man whose name tag read ‘Hoseok’ — Yoongi did just that.

“If you don’t like it, just let me know.” Yoongi instructed, swiping his forefinger against his nose. “I have no problem ordering you something else.”

“I’ll like it.” Jimin giggled, feeling his cheeks grow warm from a combination of giddiness and the few sips he had taken of his cocktail. “I’m not picky, so please don’t worry. I’ll try anything once.”

Yoongi raised his eyebrows at the statement and softly chuckled. It wasn’t until he responded that Jimin fully registered what had come out of his own mouth.

“I mean, it’s only our first date but...I guess that’s good to know.”

Jimin choked on another sip of his cocktail and made a grab for his cloth napkin, bringing it up to mouth to try and suppress a series of sputtering coughs. The whole display only seemed to make Yoongi laugh harder and he winked at the other as Hoseok swung by to drop off their appetizers.

Jimin let out a sigh as he wiped his mouth with his napkin, murmuring an apology to Yoongi to which the blonde simply waved off. As Jimin readjusted, Yoongi was quick to explain which appetizer was which, and Jimin was more than happy to listen to him. There was something about Yoongi’s voice that he found naturally mesmerizing, and Jimin truly believed he could listen to him talk about absolutely anything for hours on end. Yoongi could easily make a story about watching paint dry sound like a New York Times bestseller.

The blonde was in the process of passing over a pair of chopsticks when the florist noticed his eyes start to unfocus mid-sentence. He raised an eyebrow curiously and opened his mouth to ask if everything was alright when Yoongi suddenly cut himself off with a sharp intake of breath.

“hHA’ISSHHhh’iuh!”

He fell into himself with a harsh sneeze he couldn’t contain; leaving delicate wet spots splayed haphazardly across the middle of his white button up shirt. He swore immediately and made a grab for his cloth napkin as a rosy red colour started to creep across his cheeks.

“Bless you.” Jimin managed, desperately trying to ignore the way his own sinuses had started to prickle. He sniffled sharply and prayed it would be enough to alleviate the oncoming sensation. “You alright?”

“Yeah, just…” Yoongi blew out a breath, clearly embarrassed as he straightened himself back upwards. “Look, I’m really sorry about...all of this.” he gestured to himself with a self deprecating chuckle before continuing. “I’m starting to think the rose wasn’t my smartest idea. I just thought only one might not…” He trailed off with a shake of his head.

“You have no reason to be sorry.” Jimin reassured with a soft smile. “But for next time...I like chocolates, too.”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow at this.

“Next time, huh?” he echoed, his dark eyes glowing intensely.

Jimin swallowed. Yoongi’s eyes were like the deepest part of the ocean and nearly twice as mysterious. He could hardly read the expression that sat just beyond them, and it made him fidget in his seat. Had he possibly overstepped his bounds? Had he been too cocky? Did Yoongi think he was —

All of Jimin’s intrusive thoughts were abruptly squashed as Yoongi reached across the table and interlocked his index finger gently with Jimin’s own. His hand was warm, aside from the cool metal of his rings, and he ran his thumb tenderly across Jimin’s knuckle with the smallest hint of a smile on his face.

“I think I’d like that,” he murmured.

“Yeah,” Jimin breathed. “Me too.”

#remember when i said i like to keep my writings platonic #lol oops #clearly these two mfs are my acception #sorry about my flowershop!au spam pls don't hate me #mine #bts sickfic #allergic!yoongi #bts au #yoonmin #and u know who u are but thank u for the proofread i would die for you #bts snzfic #bts snz

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