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thekidultlife · 4 years

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Through the Seasons | Seungcheol (COMPLETED)

Author’s Note:

Please read this before continuing on to the fic! 😊 If you’ve read the first part of this story which I posted in a rush during my birthday, please. scrap. all. your. thoughts. about. it. Having completed it now, I truly regretted rushing to post it just to meet a deadline; that won’t happen again lol. 😂 I plan to write more slowly and carefully from now on because I want to be able to look back and read my stories without too much regret over how I could have written them better. I hope that you enjoy this one, and please look forward to this series! My plan is to alternate writing “The Return Of Superman”, “The And” and “Through The Seasons” during the coming weeks/months.

Birthday Greetings: This fic is one that I wrote as a gift, not only to our amazing SVT leader and my ultimate bias who deserves THE ENTIRE WORLD, Seungcheol (🥺❤), but also to my good friend, @peekabooseoksoon! Belated Happy Birthday! 🙆‍♀️ I hope you get to love this fic!!! 😄

Tags: I’d like to mention @coupsiekkuma, @minkwans, @eclvpe, @haven-cove, @nrhfzh, @iwalktheline97, @woozisnoots, @shoshishua, @toxicsocial, @elcie-chxn, @yslmingyux, @gostickywombat, @uglyratlmao, and @starlightshua!

Plot: Two people form memories, navigate through hardships and—most of all—learn to love each other more through the seasons of their relationship.

Warnings: Marked 18+ for suggestive content

Word Count: 10,386

1 | summer, as the night wind whispered

Bright lights flooded the town square through the colorful lanterns that hung in lines and swayed idly. The air was filled with the smell of mingling perfumes, food and beer. The cobbled streets were packed with people, of different ages, walking through the stalls that sold native handicrafts and trinkets. Tables that were laid out in the center of the square kept getting occupied as the twilight dissipated into a dark sky full of stars. Music from guitars, bagpipes and dulcimers wafted around, competing with the blare of jukeboxes playing songs from eras long past, classics that everyone still loved to sing and dance to.

One month ago, no one would have thought that this town would be celebrating like this.

A violent storm had hit and destroyed almost everything in its path, and a sense of despair had engulfed the people living there. The winds and the heavy rain had been bad, but the landslides really made things worse. Even at present, as the town held its celebration, helicopters could be seen hovering above the mountains that surrounded the town proper, their searchlights flashing here and there, aiding rescuers who made their way around the dark, slippery terrain, looking for missing people or houses that had vanished underneath mounds of trees, dark rock and soil.

Despite the tragedy and the uncertainty that hung in the air, however, the townspeople had been resilient. Pooling their resources, and seeking help from neighboring towns and cities, they managed to recover most of their losses and found cause to celebrate as houses, businesses and landmarks began to be restored.

Sitting on one of the tables, watching the merriment all around them, were three men, sipping on their beers, wearing jackets that identified them as university students hailing from a city five hours away. They, along with a group of other volunteer workers from their uni, had come to help and were now celebrating the last day of volunteer work. Just across the street, by the small parking lot of the town’s only hotel, vehicles were lined up, readied for the departure in the early morning. These three men expected to be on the first bus going home tomorrow.

The first two sitting across each other kept commenting idly about how hectic the day had been, but the third guy, nursing his drink close to his lips, was scanning the flow of people, his huge, sparkling eyes flitting to and fro. He could not process what his friends were talking about. He was too busy watching who came and went as the festivities rolled on.

“Choi Seungcheol, have you found her yet?” Yoon Jeonghan asked, lazily grinning. His dark brown hair fell down his eyes and he raked them back with his fingers. He glanced at his friend before turning back to the buoyant scenery. A crowd seated on the table next to them roared with laughter.

“I haven’t,” Seungcheol replied lightly, taking another swig. “But I will.”

Seungcheol’s seemingly dogged determination made the guy sitting across Jeonghan chuckle. “This will be a very interesting night,” Hong Jisoo said softly, smirking at Jeonghan’s direction. “Cheol won’t let up finding this mystery woman.”

“I, for one, think that we’ve had an interesting day already,” Jeonghan answered dryly, leaning back on his metal chair, “and an uncomfortable one at that. I didn’t like the fact that we had to follow someone for a whole day, all because some guy couldn’t just walk up to her and ask her out.”

At that, Seungcheol turned to Jeonghan and glared at him playfully. “Shut up.”

“Cheol is acting funny,” Jeonghan teased. “Isn’t he, Jisoo-ya?” Jisoo laughed and clinked bottles with Jeonghan in agreement.

“I have my reasons,” Seungcheol said defensively, turning back to the crowd. “I couldn’t find the right timing.”

“Oooh,” Jeonghan cooed. “The right timing.”

“I said shut your trap, Jeonghan. I think you’re drunk.”

“I will be if you still don’t find her.”

“You could dance with some of our other friends out there while we wait.”

“You know I’m too tired for that.”

Jisoo laughed again. “You could not find the right timing? After all the days you’ve spent here?”

“Complete bull.” Jeonghan grinned.

Suddenly Seungcheol stood, setting his beer bottle down so hard on the wooden table that Jisoo and Jeonghan could not help but complain in unison about the abrupt movement. However, they quieted down when they saw Seungcheol’s expression.

“That’s her.” Seungcheol pointed somewhere in the throng of people, his eyes wide, his countenance suddenly alight and stone-cold sober. The night breeze blew on his close-cropped hair as he looked on.

His words were almost drowned out by the cacophony of voices and music all around them, but Jisoo and Jeonghan looked at each other knowingly, hearing his words perfectly.

`“Well?” Jisoo brought his drink to his lips, eyeing Seungcheol with a devious glint in his eyes.

A few moments passed, with Seungcheol simply standing there.

The right timing.

He broke off into a run.

He ran past tables and stalls and dancing couples, startling people along the way. His feet took him flying across the cobbled streets lined with lanterns, towards a spot by the exit of the square where stalls sold summer flowers. His heart pounded within his chest as he sprinted, his eyes never leaving what they had been watching for throughout the young night.

As he ran, he forgot how silly he had felt when, exactly five nights ago, he had hopped onto one of the buses leaving campus for the volunteer program. His only reason for joining had been his need for an adventure away from the city. He would have no other time for anything extracurricular in the months to come. The bar exam was looming over his mind, and before he poured himself solely to the task of preparing for it, he wanted to get away.

He remembered how you had stretched out a hand to greet him even before sitting down beside him.

Hi. You had smiled and he had felt like he was staring at the sun as you told him your name. Classical composition. You?

Non-music major, he had replied with a quick, albeit apologetic smile to return yours. I got on this bus by mistake.

Oh, that’s okay, you had said good-naturedly, winking at him, you don’t have to worry. We’re very good company.

And you were.

As he ran, he forgot how tired he was. He had followed you and the other volunteers around all day, up and down the mountains, giving out boxes of food and clothing to the families that had been affected by the calamity. The first four days hadn’t been as grueling as this last one. But it had been worth it.

He forgot, too, how sorry he felt for his friends, who didn’t know what they had signed up for when they followed him to this town to check up on him.

All he could remember was the flush on his cheeks when he had watched as your fingers strummed at a guitar, and how he could not help but hang on to the sweet lilt of your voice when you opened your mouth to sing.

"Deep breath and wipe those tears // Take heart and face those fears // We'll find a reason, // something to cling to; // We won't abandon // you. // There's hope in this season, // too."

All he could remember was the comfort that washed over the faces of the people who were listening, back at the orphanage in the mountains, where evacuees had taken up temporary residence.

He forgot about everything else and just ran, ran, and ran towards the only thing that mattered in his mind.

He had found you.

There you were—your hair rustling in the wind, wearing a billowing white dress that came down just beneath your knees and a knapsack that hung loosely on one shoulder, laughing with little children who were selling what looked like different sorts of flowers. You bent down to reach for a bouquet, and then lifted it to your nose, closing your eyes as you inhaled the scent.

Seungcheol drew to a stop as he neared you. His breaths slowed into pants, but his restless heart still fluttered faster than it would normally do.

Before he could lose his courage, he walked slowly to you.

He didn’t know what to say to you yet. After the bus ride, he only saw you every now and then, among the hundred volunteers that had joined. And all day long today, when he knew that he could not put off speaking to you anymore, he had been thinking about how he could approach you without scaring you off. There was one point this evening, after a little bit of beer, when he had felt like he could be brave enough to speak to you the moment he finds you.

But now, standing before you, he was tongue-tied, unable to say anything at all.

Sensing his presence, you turned, looking directly at him, still laughing, your hands holding a bouquet close to your face.

For precious brief seconds, the both of you just stood there, the night breeze beckoning as it made its sweeping touch upon both your clothes, trying to unchain you from where you both stood—whispering, it seemed, as it touched skin, Closer.

It was you who broke the ice.

“That was quite a run,” you commented humorously, your eyes filling with a gentle light. “Did I drop my wallet or something?”

Seungcheol laughed, blushing at the same time before scratching his head. He didn’t know that you had noticed him running. “Uh, no. Sorry. I must have startled you.”

“You told me during our bus ride that you came just to have some fun,” you said softly, your eyes taking in this handsome man before you and the jacket he wore. “But I saw how you worked hard, especially today. Thank you for coming with us.”

“And thank you for your songs,” Seungcheol replied, smiling. There was no flattery in his voice when he said this to you, only interest and admiration and another emotion that he himself could not clearly define at that moment.

Your eyes widened. “You listened?”

Seungcheol cocked his head to the side, hands in his pockets, still smiling. “All three songs, the whole afternoon.”

You grinned. “Ah. I didn’t know that I was in the presence of a fan. So…” one corner of your mouth turned up playfully, “…you ran all that way—” you motioned at the brilliant lights of the festival that was behind you both, “—not because I dropped my wallet somewhere around the bazaars and you picked it up by chance…but because—you loved my songs,” you grinned as you said this, “and you wanted my autograph. Was that it?”

He stifled a laugh, but it still bubbled out of his lips. “No. To be honest, I was going to ask you something else.” Seungcheol’s kind, hooded eyes smiled along with his lips. Courage surged inside him, just when he needed it. “Would you like to dance with me?”

Your slow smile answered his question before you even spoke.

“Yes.”

Closer, the wind whispered as you ran, laughing, with Seungcheol, back into the bright lights where the lanterns swayed, his hand not letting go of yours. And as Seungcheol pulled you close to him by the waist, your body arched up against him, and you threw your arms around his neck. You danced to the slow music, with Seungcheol’s eyes lighting up like the lanterns and his delighted laughter as melodious as the strings that strummed soulful tunes through the night.

Not far from where you danced, watching and making funny but adoring commentaries about how Seungcheol sucked at dancing, Jeonghan and Jisoo clinked bottles.

“It did become an interesting night.”

The town, in the morning, was greeted by blue skies and the young heat of summer. Business went back to normal, with the townsfolk reverting to their quiet, slow-paced lives in the fields and the mountains where their houses and livelihoods were nestled. The square held its usual number of regulars, some laying on the soft grass and others spreading colorful cloths around for picnics. Bicycles and occasional cars passed by.

There were no more buses that lined outside the tall, eighty-year-old hotel that was the pride of the town. No more guys wearing university jackets, no more stalls that lined the cobbled sidewalks.

Everything had gone back to how they were.

But traces of the festival night still popped up here and there in that sleepy old town.

High up the mountains, in the orphanage, children sang your songs and your words lingered on their lips. Some of them still had chocolates and candy from yesterday, leftovers from what their volunteer friends had given them as treats before heading back to the city. A plaque commemorating those who donated and came to help could be seen inside the town hall. And the gratitude people felt in their hearts as they watched their town being rebuilt made them remember their friends who had left in the early morning.

Some traces, too, weren’t just found in town. Some you brought home with you.

In that morning, you and Seungcheol were already five hours away, on a bus terminal, getting woken by the driver, who told you that you were now back in the city.

You had both missed the bus rides back to campus, but that was okay.

With your bags slung on your backs, you talked about Seungcheol’s upcoming bar exam, your major and getting breakfast somewhere. The impress of his touch on the small of your back as he gently guided you through the crowded streets reminded you of how you had felt when you danced with him all night. You blushed as he playfully protested about how his arms had gone numb when he woke up with you in his arms. Laughing with him as you both strolled along the hectic streets of the city, you found that you liked how Seungcheol’s voice sounded and how he would look you in the eyes intently whenever you would start to tell him something, no matter how interesting or uninteresting it would be. There was something intuitive and perceptive about him, something that you don’t normally see with guys that you had tried to get to know before. You liked that uniqueness in Seungcheol.

Sitting across him, eating your burger as you watched him type his number on your phone, you felt something new begin. And when he unconsciously reached out to take your hand while inside a cab that morning, you just knew, that you had both found in each other a memento from that summer night up in the mountains, in a town slowly recovering from a calamity, a town of cobbled streets and music and the wind that had teased and whispered, Closer.

2 | autumn, beneath the glowing streetlamps

Almost every sunset since the leaves started falling and the sky started to become painted in reddish-golden splendor, as people hurried along sidewalks or streets or in their bicycles and cars before rush hour set in, you would find yourself racing, racing and racing into Cheol’s waiting arms, warm and safe from the dropping temperatures and the cruel life of being an assistant producer for a crueler entertainment company.

There would be times when you would immediately look up from burying yourself in the warmth of Seungcheol’s embrace, smile sweetly up at his face and say in cute tones, “Hi, baby!”

There would be times when you would wrap your arms around his neck and stand on tiptoes to treat him with kisses as he laughed and whispered, “I missed you” in your ear.

And there would also be times when you would linger beneath his coat, shutting out all the bustling noises around you, eyes closed, and your words an almost unintelligible murmur on his chest. “Let’s stay like this for a while, please?”

You would then feel him kiss your hair, nuzzle your face, replying softly, “Bad day?” before hugging you tighter and tilting your head up so he could give you one of his infamous pep talks. He would then be kissing you with a laugh when you would start to complain that he sounded like a lecturer you had back in your uni days.

It had been three years since you danced with the wind during that summer night, and your sunsets during this third autumn season with Seungcheol by your side usually consisted of these sweet embraces and small but meaningful whispers of affection.

But today, the sunset was different.

You are still racing through the streets, running, running and running, your coat and hair flying in the wind. But Choi Seungcheol—always standing out anywhere he went with his height and broad shoulders, huge coats and quick smiles—was nowhere among the crowd. And you now halted to a stop, catching your breath, eyes frantically searching for taxis as the dark blue and violet shades of the nighttime sky started to replace the golden sheen of the sunset.

Once you could get on one, you immediately gave out the address, telling the driver as nicely as possible to step on it. Then you leaned back on the plush leather seat, sighing loudly, looking through the car window as you sped past the city’s grey skyscrapers and its lights and the rush of commute. You listened to the noise of cars honking, of motorcycles zipping past your cab, and chatter from commuters as you sometimes halted at crosswalks. You observed these people rushing to and fro, eager to be where they needed to be. You engaged in pleasant talk with the driver, complimenting his choice of music, even confiding in him that you had helped make the second song that played.

Soon, you came to a place where the pulsing, white and yellow lights of the city softened into golden hue as the skyscrapers were replaced by townhouses and apartments, homey restaurants, little shops and an occasional clinic here and there. Passersby were not rushing in this part of the city. Rather, families were walking hand in hand, dads sometimes carrying their kids on their backs, laughing as they entered diners and restaurants. Old women in flowery dresses shuffled up the steps of their apartment, with their husbands or cats following closely. Lovers and students with their friends laughed softly as they quietly strolled down the sidewalks, amazed at the beauty of the coming night and the sighing of trees as their leaves fell. You smiled at a woman you knew as the cab slowed. And when it stopped, you got out, blinking as your eyes adjusted beneath the glowing light of the streetlamps, looking around.

This was your neighborhood. This was your world when five o'clock came and you were released from the pressure of work. This was your safety net when you felt like drowning. This was your home turf.

And there he was, just as you knew he would be. He probably went straight home after court. He probably thought he could mask everything that had happened when he had rested enough. He probably didn’t want you to worry.

Yes, there he was. Walking slowly to his car, shoulders slumped, his phone in his hand, probably going to shoot you a message that he was on his way to pick you up, he just ran a little late today. His head was bent down as he scrolled through his phone. His other hand was holding his briefcase, his most prized possession as a criminal lawyer. He didn’t see you coming towards him yet. But as he looked up from his phone to open the car door, his eye caught sight of you and he stopped, his hand on the door handle.

Immediately, Seungcheol’s despondent expression changed. His face lit up into a smile that almost didn’t look tired, his shoulders straightened up and he cocked his head to the side like he always does when he sees you looking at him, his now ash-blond hair touching his forehead. “Baby!” he called out endearingly, his free arm wide open.

There, beneath the glowing streetlamps, you ran up to him and wrapped him in a tight embrace, your feet on tiptoes, one of your hands raking through his hair, the other caressing his back, whispering his name over and over in relief. He’s here with me. Everything’s going to be alright.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, worried about you even at this time when you knew that he needed you more than you needed him now. “Did something happen at work?”

“No,” you whispered in his ear, still smoothing his hair, holding him close. “And let’s not talk about my work tonight.” You leaned back so you could look into his face. Your hands ran through the soft, ash-blond locks on his forehead. Now that you looked at him closely, you saw that he looked pale and drawn, utterly exhausted with his day. “Oh, baby.” You touched his face and he held your hand close to him like that, closing his eyes as he let out a huge breath.

Standing on tiptoes as the streetlamps glowed brighter and brighter in the night, as the trees shed red, gold and brown leaves and as people passed you by, each off to their respective evenings, you gave Choi Seungcheol a tender kiss.

He sighed shakily as your lips touched his. He trembled underneath your touch; it was as if all his carefully put-up defenses might fall apart in that moment.

And they did, right when you whispered against his lips, as gently as you could, “It’s not your fault.”

Tears fell from his closed eyes like the trees lining the sidewalk, weeping away their precious foliage. You felt his body heave into choking, unmanly sobs as he buried his face down your shoulder, his hold on you so tight that you felt just how much pain he was trying to release. The briefcase lay forgotten at your feet as his arms pulled you as close as he could to him.

Seungcheol couldn’t say anything, but you knew about everything already; the city may be vast and diverse, but news travels fast. There was no need for him to explain. You knew enough, and that was all you needed.

“Shhh,” you whispered, tears falling from your face as well, your chest aching at the sight of your man—this man who liked to look okay in front of you all the time—bent, broken, and crying. “You’ll be alright.” Your arms tightened around Seungcheol, and you closed your eyes. “You’ll be alright.”

There was a comforting lull as you both stayed that way for a while, not minding who saw you, not minding the time. Tonight, he needed you, and you wanted him to know that he could hold you for as long as he wanted. For as long as he needed. When you had felt like he had calmed a bit, you asked him, “Bad day?�� Even though you already knew the answer, he wouldn’t be able to talk about it freely if you didn’t ask.

You felt him smile sheepishly on your neck. “Yeah.” He sighed and buried his face onto your shoulder. “Bad day.”

“Oh, baby.” You hugged him tighter.

“I’m sorry. I know that I’m not usually like this—”

“—I like it better when you lean on me, too.” You patted his back comfortingly, over and over. “I know that you don’t want to talk about it yet, at least, not right now, but I’ll always be ready to listen, okay?”

“Okay.”

“No rush. But you can tell me everything when you feel ready.” You pulled away to stare into his puffy eyes. “I must say, though,” you commented with a bit of humor, “that red does not suit your eyes when it’s like that.” You smirked at him as his expression softened and his laughter came. You took out a handkerchief from your coat pocket and dabbed it underneath his eyes and his cheeks. “Doesn’t matter anyway,” you muttered lightly, knowing how much your nonsensical words would make him smile, “you still look good even when you cry.”

Seungcheol groaned. “Stop.” Then he kissed your forehead. “Thank you.” For making me feel better. You saw the words in his eyes, which began to sparkle again with a gentle light. He grinned at you, and a little bit of the sadness painted on his face seemed to dissipate.

You grinned back at him, and you held out a hand.

“Can we go home now?”

Seungcheol grasped your hand tightly and smiled. “Yes.”

The streetlamps glowed brighter as the dark ink of the night swallowed the brilliant colors of the dusk, and you both blended in with the people who were around you, walking towards whatever lay ahead for them in the coming night.

Seungcheol didn’t tell you about what happened that day in court. He didn’t tell you about what had made him cry like that when you found him. He didn’t offer any explanation.

And you let it stay that way. You watched him from your perch on the duvet in your living room. He sat on the couch, poring over binders that held one-inch-thick documents and every now and then scribbling something on a legal pad. You watched him whisper to himself as he typed incessantly on his laptop. Paraphernalia from whatever he was working on was scattered on the floor in an order that only he could understand. You watched him for a time as he kept on working. This was how he was whenever something from his work would haunt him: he would meticulously go over where he went wrong (or where he thought he went wrong), and he would passionately redo that area until he was satisfied. He would anxiously (and sometimes even a bit obsessively) review each argument, each line, over and over again.

Judging from his expression and from how he couldn't seem to stop doing this cycle of reading/writing/whispering, you knew that whatever piece of courtroom action he had brought home with him had truly gotten to him.

You watched and watched, and then you gave up watching him. You hated seeing him become so immersed into a case because you've seen him like this before, and you hadn't liked how it affected him physically and mentally.

You wondered about what you could do for him. Nothing came to mind.

Sighing, you rose up from your seat, a bottle of beer in your hand. You padded softly towards the other side of the room, where an unvarnished upright piano was.

You lifted the cover and you let your fingers run across the ivory keys. You sat down. As you stared down at the keys, a melody you’ve never sung before formed on your lips. You found the right key, and you began to play the melody that you hummed.

Slowly, scenery came to life in your mind, along with the words that painted its description beautifully.

“Autumn days of glory // autumn days of peace // red and golden splendor // in the sky and trees…”

You didn’t know where the words would lead, but you let your hands and your heart take flight. You let them come straight home where they needed to be. You let them express what you couldn't do in any other way.

“Fall is often like // a season of pure bliss // But fall is also when // change happens to things.”

You remembered the moment you shared with Seungcheol a few hours ago, outside. You let your hands play on as more lines went out of your lips, giving voice to the emotions you had felt and painted the picture in your mind with.

“Let me touch your face // let me dry those tears // let me help you brace // for the colder winds…”

You heard footsteps behind you, but the song still flowed out of your lips as your heart poured out what it wanted to say through the music's timeless language.

“Autumn days of glory // autumn days of peace // let me stand on tiptoes // let me give you a kiss…”

You felt his arms around you, and you felt the touch of his lips on your neck.

You found the last chord, and you leaned against him.

You stayed like that for a long time.

Your hand caressed one of his arms as you sang softly, “I will hold you close // I will dry your tears // I will help you brace // for the colder winds…”

You felt him breathe deeply, and you felt his arms tighten around you. And when he turned your face to him to give you his most tender kiss, you knew that he had chosen to leave his books and legal pads and that case that haunted him. You knew that he had chosen, no matter how hard it was, to put the bad day behind him.

As he carried you up from that hard, unvarnished piano bench where you sat and onto the soft satin comfort of your bedroom sheets, you just knew. You just knew that no matter how bad days in the future might get, as long as you had each other, there would always be peace at the end. That both of you would always choose peace at the end.

That night, as the last of the leaves on the trees fell, and as Seungcheol's bare skin cleaved to yours, he bared his thoughts to you. You both stared at the naked truth of his anxiety, his worries. Hesitantly, at first, he let you in on his deepest fears.

That night was the beginning of honesty at its purest between you two. That night, you treated each other like the Bible where you had seen Seungcheol swear the truth and nothing but the truth countless times. That night, you both found safety in each other as you unmasked the pretenses that you both still put up for the sake of looking brave.

That night, too, you both decided that there was no other way to overcome bad days, except to overcome it together.

When the streetlamps stopped burning brightly and another day came around, you both stepped out of the apartment, hand in hand, the warm glow on your faces obviously not coming from the sun, which had risen in a useless effort to bring warmth against the cold.

You both went your separate ways, disappearing amongst the thousands of people who rushed about as the sleepless city burst with renewed life.

Well, bad days, fire away, you thought to yourself as you tightened your scarf around your neck. After that night, the impending doom of a long day failed to break your spirit.

You had Seungcheol, and Seungcheol had you. Everything would be okay. You both just knew: everything would be okay.

Later that day, another golden dusk settled across the skyline. You raced down the busy sidewalks of the city again, looking out for a cab. The holiday season was almost upon you, and the air already had a festive spirit to it. As you glanced up and down the lanes of vehicles halting at the red light, your eye caught a figure to your left, among the crowds.

Waving his hand, his eyes alight, his smile as bright as it was during those first few days that leaves fell from trees, there was Seungcheol, wearing his huge coat, holding his briefcase and waiting, as he had always done, for you.

Smiling jubilantly, you ran to him, pushing against crowds of people, eager to become enveloped into his safe, warm embrace.

You were tired. It had been a very busy day: meetings, songwriting sessions, planning music video sets with other staff, and doing final checks on a concert stage took up most of your energy. But in Seungcheol’s arms, the fatigue you felt slowly washed away.

"Baby," you whispered, closing your eyes as you leaned against his chest. You felt his kisses on your hair and you smiled. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but does that smile mean that you helped save the world today?"

At your words, you felt Seungcheol drew in a sharp breath. You felt his teeth sink into your shoulder playfully as his body reverberated with giggles.

"Please stop making me blush in public, babe!"

The forecast had said that temperatures would be at its lowest yet, but as you kept making jokes while basking in the music of Seungcheol’s laughter, you never felt the cold during that last sunset of autumn.

3 | winter, by the hearth

“And everything in time and under heaven finally falls asleep // Wrapped in blankets white, all creation shivers underneath.”

Like magic, the words you sang out perfectly described the hushed, dreamy landscape that unfurled before Seungcheol's eyes. Snowflakes in their different designs fell softly on the ground and on your nose as you walked, hand in hand, wrapped in your warmest, heaviest winter clothing. You were walking towards the huge family house that belonged to your maternal grandparents, and you were both enchanted by the frozen beauty of the vast garden you were walking through. And as if the sight of imposing life-sized statues and the creaking, barren trees lining the footpath wasn't enough, the series of mountains to the left of the property also peeked out from the stone walls, revealing their snow-covered peaks and adding a magical feeling to the scenery.

It was the first time that you would bring Seungcheol to a dinner with all of your extended family, and Seungcheol knew from the way that you smiled at him a lot that you were excited.

Excited, and something else.

Despite the mixed expressions on your face that he could not quickly decipher to get a clear understanding of, Seungcheol returned your smiles. “How long has it been since you came here?” he asked, stepping over a mound of ice and snow that had formed along the pavement.

“Years." You looked up at him again, and you smiled wider. "It shows on my face that much, huh? How thrilled I am at having my whole family meet you?"

Seungcheol smirked. "I don't know how to get my family together like this. Do your grandparents hold gatherings like this often?"

"Not really. But they've been missing their children and us grandchildren, so…" you cleared your throat and paused. "Baby, do I look like Christmas lights are strung up on my face? Because my cousins tease me about my smile whenever I get excited.”

The brightness in your voice had dropped a notch, and Seungcheol examined your face again. “Well you do look excited, but I wouldn't worry about your face. You always look beautiful…"

You probably did not hear him, because you had let go of his hand to run ahead, towards the widespread arms of a very handsome old man who seemed to have the same light like yours in his eyes and the same humor on his smile like yours.

Seungcheol hurried towards you and your grandfather, and he bowed respectfully.

"So this is the lucky man," your grandfather commented humorously, shaking Seungcheol's hand heartily. "Come in, come in! Best to get out of the cold." Your grandfather shivered animatedly, and you laughed, leaning against him as you walked in.

You seemed fine. Seungcheol smiled and entered the double doors after you.

The house was spacious and welcoming, designed with warm wood tones and bursting to life with patches of greenery here and there. The wooden beams and pillars that supported doorways were intricately carved with floral swirls and patterns, and the furniture style accentuated the vibrant yet homey tones. The smell of food and wine and the sound of logs being thrown into a fireplace filled Seungcheol's senses. Holiday music played in the background, and soft laughter from one of the rooms to the far right of the hall made Seungcheol guess that some family members have already arrived before you did.

As he walked on, straightening his clothes, he ran smack-dab into a woman who looked a lot like you but was very much unlike you either. Seungcheol would never see you wearing a power suit in bold colors like this woman. The man behind her smiled at Seungcheol and offered a hand.

"Oooh, so this is my cousin Y/N's boyfriend!" The woman grinned. She held out a well-manicured hand. "I'm Sana, and this is my husband, Minhyuk. You’re Seungcheol, right?"

"Yes. Very nice to meet you," Seungcheol answered, his face lighting up when he saw you with a smile on your face, walking towards Sana. Sana is one of my favorite cousins, you had told him earlier. She's the loudest among all of us, but she's a really good person who took care of me a lot when I was younger.

Sana leaned close to Seungcheol, and he was once again struck by how her brown eyes looked a lot like yours. But hers, he observed, had a mischievous glint, while yours always had a gentle light in them.

"You'd better be prepared for this family dinner," Sana whispered conspiratorially, "and don't let your guard down. Watch your manners--"

"--oh, come on, Sana," you groaned, pulling Seungcheol away, laughter in your voice. "It won't be that bad!"

"Don't say I didn't warn you! And sit beside me during dinner!" Sana's red-lipped smile made Seungcheol suddenly wonder what you both were talking about. You were both inside the parlor now, where drinks were being served and the people inside were more formal: quieter and older members of the family were either seated or standing around, wine glasses in their hands, conversing as they studied the portraits that hung around the room. A young man sat by one of the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of the parlor, his fingers flying across the ivory keys of the grand piano. The fire crackled as a man added more logs. Your grandfather was nowhere in sight.

Seungcheol wondered why your smile did not reach your eyes once these people started to come and greet you with their hugs and kisses. He wanted to ask if you were okay because you had grown quieter. Occasionally glancing at you as he introduced himself to members of the family, he noticed that your whole countenance had changed.

The smiles and the laughter coming from you still rang true in his ears, but as your hands clasped before you as you engaged in conversation with an aunt of yours, you showed him a side of you that he had never seen before: very composed, very somber, very careful. The only relief that seemed to show on your face was when your parents finally came in, and Seungcheol was glad for the respite from your strained expressions and gestures. Your smile at them as they embraced you warmly was the only smile that reached your eyes throughout the whole introductory phase of the gathering.

"I'm so glad you're here, Seungcheol!" your mother said cheerfully, adding a warmth that Seungcheol hadn't felt in the room since you had both walked in. In fact, of all the people he had greeted today, nobody he'd met in this side of your family eased the tension he had been feeling since your voice changed on the way in. "My family has been waiting to see you for ages!"

Seungcheol kissed your mother's cheek and shook your father's hand, engaging in pleasant small talk with them. He had spent a lot of holidays and vacations with your parents, and they had been very enjoyable ones. In this fifth year of your relationship, though, you had quietly asked him if he wanted to go see your grandparents with you. He had known from the expression on your face that seeing your grandparents was an important family affair; and he knew now, too, why you had looked so anxious.

Everyone walked into the dining room once the clock in the parlor struck six o'clock. A long table heaped with food and beverages on glassware greeted all of you. Seating yourselves, Seungcheol held your hand underneath the table, squeezing it reassuringly. You squeezed his back.

Seungcheol's eyes caught Sana's on the far side of the room. She was sitting on the opposite end of the table with Minhyuk, and she cocked her head to the side, mouthing words that looked like, "Sit here, you two!", gesturing at a couple of seats beside them that soon got taken by another cousin and his parents. Sana made a face, and Seungcheol grinned. You were busy talking with another cousin, Samuel, who had also brought his partner with him. Seated at the far end of the table, near the empty seat of your grandfather, Seungcheol waited for dinner to begin.

Clinks of glasses and forks and knives slicing through meat and spoons ladling soup were the background music to the words that this huge family exchanged. Laughter rippled through the room, and slowly, the tension and formality that shaped conversations a while ago stopped.

"Is that Counselor Choi from the City Prosecutor’s Office?"

The matronly voice made everyone's heads turn, and all laughter died down.

Seungcheol saw your grandmother for the first time.

Dinner had long since started, but the way she gracefully sat down and the way her shoulders were set back made everyone excuse her for being late. Your grandfather silently took his place beside you, and you exchanged sweet smiles with him. Seungcheol watched as your grandfather leaned towards you, and he heard words like, “…talk to her…” come from his lips. Nervous energy engulfed the dinner table, and Seungcheol's ears must have been fooling him, because every clink and scrape of knives, and even the music, seemed to stop.

Your grandmother, beautiful despite her age, laid her eyes upon Seungcheol. Her eyes were neither kind nor cruel. The aloofness there could have thrown any stranger off, but the spark of interest that lit up her eyes compelled Seungcheol to return her gaze and to answer.

"Yes, ma'am." He could have called her something else, but this aura she exuded seemed to ask for something that formal. "Thank you for inviting me."

When she smiled, her expression was guarded as well. "My granddaughter is very fortunate to have met you. And you're welcome. Please, eat."

After greeting the other girlfriends, boyfriends, husbands and wives seated around, the rest of the conversation was directed at other members of the family. Seungcheol learned that this side of your family was involved in medical and tourism careers. You were the only one he knew that had a different path from the rest of them. This hadn’t been obvious when he spent time with your parents, but on this table, careers and what you are doing to succeed in that career seemed to be very important. Careers steered the conversation.

"Ahyoung is planning on setting up a pediatric practice, Mother,” one aunt said as she set down her spoon. “She wasn't able to come because she had to tie up some loose ends with the clinic renovation."

"Working through the holidays? Ahyoung must be wanting to surpass my record as a workaholic." Chuckles around the table could be heard at this amusing remark from Grandmother. "The president of the hospital in that town is a friend of mine who could help her establish her practice. Tell her to give me a call so I can help her get in touch with him. How about you, Jaemin? I saw you on TV a week ago. You announced the opening of a...what was that...a museum?"

"A shrine recreation, Grandmother. We're currently in the process of recreating an entire temple from the Silla era. My archaeology team hit a huge find down south when they found the remains of what we initially thought was a hidden metropolis in the mountains. Turns out that was this temple where priestesses tried to read the stars—”

“—if you need a priestess to make your shrine look more realistic, you can hire me." Sana broke in as she winked at Jaemin, who immediately looked flustered. Younger cousins of yours immediately began doing their best to hold back their laughter and Seungcheol felt you giggle quietly beside him, too, as you drank your glass of wine.

"Sana, instead of ridiculing your older brother, why don't you tell us about the latest findings of your research? And congratulations, darling. My former colleagues in Gynecology have been telling me that your research will be of a huge benefit to their practice.”

"Well, we are still working on developing this fertility treatment, as you know already, and we have the goal of obtaining a much higher success rate than in vitro fertilization. So, for example, if the success rate of a thirty-five-year-old woman is only at thirty-nine-point-five per cent, we would try to raise that bar by giving her a fifty per cent threshold of success. It’s still at a very experimental stage at this point, Grandmother, but the labs have been working on it incessantly...”

Seungcheol stopped listening at that point. He focused on his food and on not letting go of your hand. Their topics were interesting and he would occasionally get roped into the conversation, but Seungcheol couldn't help but despair about the fact that there wasn’t talk about anything else except work and their different professions and future plans for their businesses or companies. It was the holidays, for goodness’ sake. There weren't many other stories shared aside from work life. Everyone seemed to be comfortable with that kind of setting, but it cut through Seungcheol deeply. Especially when he noticed that the questions didn’t get to you.

The dinner passed like that.

Grandmother rose from her seat, her height, willowy frame and white dress making her look even more imposing. Silence once again reigned, and she spoke.

“Y/N, may I speak to you in private for a moment?” It wasn’t a question. She spun on her heel and left.

Seungcheol knew that she expected you to follow. And you did, whispering, “I’ll be back” before rushing out of the dining room. When his eyes roamed around the table, he saw that everyone was looking at him, and he put his fork down. He didn’t know what to think of what just happened. Your mother followed you out soon after.

"Don't worry," Samuel said reassuringly. "Grandmother may look like a very hard woman, but she's actually soft on the inside--"

"--and she has the softest spot for Y/N." Sana smiled. "She would never admit to playing favorites, but we all know in this table that she loves Y/N the most."

At a later time, while relishing dessert, your history with your grandmother began to unfold from the table, where only your closest cousins remained, and Seungcheol listened to them intently.

They told him the story about a grandmother who wanted nothing but the best of life for her family. A grandmother who had done her best to live a life that she knew would become a good example to everyone who followed her. Despite her stern appearance, she wasn’t the rich and evil grandmother who forced everyone to do things her way. Surprisingly, she was one who encouraged her family members to pursue what they loved to do.

“You see, even though most of us work in the medical field, we didn’t get these jobs because someone told us to, or because the woman we look up to in this family. We became doctors and businessmen because we wanted these jobs. Our paths turned out this way, and we’re enjoying ourselves.” Sana paused, letting her words sink first. “All our parents and our grandparents asked of us was that we pursue our dreams intending to succeed. And that was where she and Y/N took a bad turn.”

“Everyone in this family had turned out to be exactly who they wanted to be.” The unspoken words after that sentence held weight. All except one: you.

“Grandmother just couldn’t understand why Y/N did not choose to become the singer that she wanted to be. And what made her more furious was the fact that she doesn’t see how good she could be.”

Music from the piano drifted into the dining hall. Someone was singing carols, and Seungcheol was jolted from his reverie when he heard soft laughter coming from the parlor as well. It was then that he realized that most of the family had gone back to the parlor, where it was evident that they all loved to spend time together.

“Only one person plays beautifully like that,” Jaemin remarked. Seungcheol noted the ring of envy and admiration on his voice as you all listened to the strains of a piano. “You’re a very lucky man. My cousin isn’t just someone you meet out there.”

“Which is why she’s the favorite,” Hyorin, another cousin of yours, commented. “In a family of doctors and business magnates, she stands out.” Hyorin stood up, bringing her glass of wine with her. “I’m going there to listen.”

Sitting on the piano, fingers making music in a way that spoke to the soul, was you. It was one thing to just play music. It was another thing when that music communicates with its listeners, making them feel something. People were humming the carols that you played, but you didn’t pay heed to them. Seungcheol knew that once you were seated on that bench, you were in another world entirely. You smiled at your relatives as they all sang out songs and gave her requests. Music tied you all together and brought out the beauty of the human inside. Work was forgotten as you sang together. From the corner of his eye, as he joined the men in belting out “Smile Flower” by a classic boy group from more than fifty years ago, Seungcheol saw your grandmother smiling—genuinely—and nodding with your parents, who were also looking at you.

A change of key quieted the room, and everyone tried to figure out what the song you were playing. But nobody could tell what it was, only that it was in A minor. They waited for you to sing.

And when you did, a song they’ve never heard before, a song Seungcheol had never heard before from you, rose from your lips.

“Tossing out the lines that were never truly mine // Throwing to the fire what was never truly fine // I am in a place where no doubt and fears can get me // I am safe tonight with lover and family // by the firelight // by the firelight // I could be me.”

Later, when you and Seungcheol had gone home and you were both staring into the hearth which served as the only light in the living room and warmed you both from the cold of the night, Seungcheol mustered the courage to ask you what your grandmother had told you when she pulled you aside right after dinner.

You smiled and said simply, “She doesn’t want me to become an assistant producer anymore.” Your hand laced with Seungcheol’s underneath the pale blue quilt wrapped around you both. “She wants me to get my music out there to the world. She said she wanted me to stop hesitating about my future.”

“And what do you think about her advice?”

You turned to him, and your eyes were moist, your lips trembling with emotion as you smiled. “Baby,” you said gently, leaning on his shoulder, “it’s not that simple.” You sighed. “And I know I might sound like such a coward to you, but I have a reason for not pursuing a singing career. Besides, I think I’m already too old for that kind of life.”

“Yeah,” Seungcheol playfully acknowledged, “twenty-seven is too old for that kind of life.”

You laughed, but your eyes remained sad. “Consider that a sub-reason as to why I don’t want to be a singer. I know that I’m breaking my family’s heart by choosing not to become one because they want to see me actually doing something that I love. But you see, I’m not really in that bad a position. I’m doing something close to what I truly love. And for me, that is enough.”

Seungcheol held you closer with his one arm. “But what is the reason why you don’t want to be a singer? I’ve always wondered why, too. I didn’t ask you before about this because I didn’t want you—”

“—I don’t want a life where my most beautiful escape—my music—will most likely end up being my darkest prison.” You weren’t looking at him, but Seungcheol knew from your voice that you meant your words, and you wanted him to understand. “I’ve seen it happen. Every day, I work with talented people who were brave enough to let the world see their lives and listen to their music. I help them shine like the stars they are, but I always witness them burn too brightly and die out too fast in the end. And I don’t want that kind of life for myself. I want my music to be mine alone and to whoever I want to give it to. I don’t want my art to be pressured by people’s expectations and desires. I don’t want that kind of life.”

“Tossing out the lines that were never truly mine,” he sang. “Throwing to the fire what was never truly fine. I am in a place where no doubt and fears can get me. I am safe tonight with lover and family. By the firelight, I could be me.” Seungcheol looked at you. “Is that why you sang this to your family? So that they won’t worry about you being miserable because you haven’t fulfilled your ultimate dream?”

You looked at him humorously. “My ultimate dream is to be your wife and the mother of your children, dummy.”

“Oh.” Seungcheol blushed. “I forgot about that part.”

You let out a huge breath. “But you’re right. I just wanted them to know that I’m okay with my life. At the same time, though, I can’t stop wondering if I am missing out on something that I know I want to try deep in my heart.”

“So try doing it.”

It was when you hesitated when he said those words that Seungcheol knew.

He kissed your temple gently. “Baby, I think you should at least try.” Seungcheol stared at you as you pondered what he said in your mind. He knew that a million thoughts, pros and cons and other factors were probably racing around in your head at this point, and he didn’t want you to do that. “Come on. On the count of three, answer my question: do you want to sing your songs out there in the world or not? One.” You didn’t budge. “Two.” You gripped his hand tighter. “Thr—”

“—yes.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and you looked at him, staring deeply into his eyes. “But I’m afraid of the cost it would ask of me.”

“The greater the risk, the greater the joy,” Seungcheol commented casually as he laid you down on the couch, smiling as he kissed you. “Try it.”

“Don’t you think I’m too old? Or that I look too—”

“—This is not about what I want. This is about what you want. Your life. Your future. Your dreams.” He gazed at you again, and he felt the same flush that had crept on his face when he first heard you sing, up in the mountains, in an orphanage. So many things had happened since then. And he pictured you in his head, living your dream, casting the same spell that you had enchanted him with on thousands of people.

A performer, not a producer. That’s who my granddaughter is. Your grandmother’s last words before you both went home lingered on his head as he kissed you. Making music and performing that music is what she does best, and what she has always wanted. Help her get to her dreams. Don’t let her give in to her fears.

By the hearth, as he made love to you—his hands planted on your hips, his painfully delicious rhythm bringing tears to your eyes—he could not get over the truth that, with or without the spotlight on you, you were an amazing woman already. And he knew that he would continue seeing you grow into someone he will always be proud to love and to be with. But in his mind, he could not shake off the image he saw of you, of who you could be if you just became brave enough to.

“What does your heart say?” he asked you, his hand running up and down your bare skin, your limbs tangled together. The fire in the hearth had gone down into sizzling embers and the quilt barely covered you both, but your skin pressed against each other was warm with the afterglow of your lovemaking. “What do you truly want to do?”

You looked up at him with no hesitation, his heart stopped to beat for a moment that felt like forever: because there, in the sparks of light that burst to life in your eyes, he could see the woman you are, and the woman you could be, evolving into one.

“Baby, I want to try.”

4 | spring, and through the seasons after

The train of your dress fanned around you in its lacy magnificence, and the sun could not help itself but touch the beautiful, delicate material with its glorious beams. The soft grass underneath your feet sighed as you passed, and bursts of color from the petals strewn by your nieces gave a beautiful contrast to the peaceful green of the grass and the muted white tones of your dress. You hear people’s voices as you pass them by, their whispers of congratulations and the flashes of cameras. You looked to the horizon, on the sleeping waters of the early morning ocean, which reflected the rosy blush of the first dawn of spring.

You heard the piano start its music, and you hear the viola and the cello in their sweet duet. You smiled at your friends and your family as you passed them by. The crown of flowers in your hair rustled as the wind blew, and your veil flowed along with your hair as that touch of breeze passed.

One more step until you reach him.

When your eyes locked with the man that you will vow to love and to cherish and to be with forevermore, flashes of seasons past appeared in your mind: summers where drops of sun would scorch your skin, and where the smell of petrichor would linger after brief showers of rain; the crunch of leaves beneath your boots, and the colder winds that you would brace against during autumn; the calming hush when everything falls asleep and shivers under blankets of ice and snow; and the first days of spring, like this one, wherein what was frozen through would turn back to healthy shades of green, awakening with a new purpose.

As more memories came to your mind, a song formed in your heart and became written on your mind as you took in Seungcheol’s smiling eyes, brimming with tears as your hand touched his.

“Hold me close, darling // never let go // make this feeling last forever and a day // let’s stay.” These words, for that one summer night, in an old town, where you slow-danced to guitar and dulcimer strings as lanterns swayed with the wind. “Run your fingers through my hair // say you won’t care // if this feeling lasts forever and a day // let’s stay...”

“I love you so much // that I couldn’t keep it in anymore. // I need you so // like the air I breathe to live one more day, so stay…” These words, for that time when you remembered yourself frantically running across sidewalks as the golden glow of streetlights blended with the colors of an autumn dusk, and crashing into the safe, strong arms that will continue to hold you for as long as this life lasts and after.

“You keep setting my soul on fire // you make everything worthwhile…” These words, for that winter night when you felt the blazing sparks of the fire by the hearth of your house, where you decided to take the risk of burning brightly like the stars with your music. “You’re the sun that made me shine like this, // you’re the love that I just can’t resist, so please stay…” These words, for all the moments that you had doubted and he had believed in you as you made your dreams come true. These words, because from the privacy of the firelight by the hearth to the adulation of thousands as you stood beneath spotlights, he had been there.

“Love, let’s stay…Stay this way.”

Each memory and each turn of the seasons that passed through your mind evoked a variety of emotions within you. And you know in your heart that the reason why you could recall them so vividly and feel them so profoundly is that you did not create them alone.

Your eyes take in the man whose companionship had completed the scenes in your head. Through the seasons, he had been with you. He had laughed with you. He had cried with you. He had grown with you. And unlike the seasons which come and go, he stayed.

And he never left.

As you said your vows and exchanged rings and as you sealed the promises made with a kiss, you knew: through the seasons, he had truly, and sincerely, loved you.

- Super-Late Leanne. ⏰

#seventeen #svtcreations #caratwritersclub #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #svt fluff #svt angst #seventeen choi seungcheol #svt choi seungcheol #svt scoups #seventeen scoups #cheol #seventeen hong jisoo #seventeen yoon jeonghan #HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABY!!!

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years

Text

The Best Things ~ J.V. (part 11)

A/n: Don’t mind me, updating a series no one cares about lol. I’ve been toeing the line of what he’s like in other fanficiton and fans’ minds, but with this one I may just cover a side of Jerome y’all might really believe is out of character. I don’t care though. I’m having fun exploring a character and I’m having fun.

Word Count: 5400+

MASTERLIST

There was something different about waking up in the morning to Jerome still being asleep next to you. Or at least that's how Harley felt. Especially because this never happened, and considering what had happened last night. Maybe that was it. The night before was the main thing on Harley's mind as he slowly woke up, his head immediately filling with the memory as if denying him even a second dog bliss from it.

If he was being honest, it made him both terrified and exhilarated. They'd never had sex like that before. Slow and tender and soft. Words of praise had poured from Jerome's mouth nonstop, and it had sent Harley's body in a different way. Rather than fireworks, it was more like lava under rocks. Searing heat that crept through Harley's veins like it was trying to sneak. It made Harley feel infinitely close to Jerome. Made him feel tethered to Jerome. He'd never felt anything like that before, and from Jerome's reactions neither had he. It also gave both men a new fear. Or, a deeper rooted hold on a fear that already existed at the very least.

What if this ended?

What if neither man felt this ever again?

What if they'd unveiling something in themselves last night... and now, in the day time, the other didn't like it?

It was then that Jerome turned, facing Harley, where he'd had his back turned before. "I'm sorry about your friend." His voice was quiet, and Jerome wouldn't look at him.

Harley was surprised by that. He scooted closer, resting his forehead on Jerome's chest. The red head pulled the other man's body closer, tucking Harley against Jerome's own frame. He held onto him, protecting him from the world for a second. It was empowering when Harley leaned into it immediately, reaching his hands so he fisted Jerome's shirt so hard his knuckles turn white.

Jerome had never been comforting before. Safe. He'd never had someone take refuge in him before. It was intoxicating. It made him feel strong and unbreakable. It was more of a high than he'd ever felt before. Maybe just as good as when he put his little shows on and watched people panic and squirm. Harley finding safety in this moment was on par with all the moments other people had found danger in Jerome.

I guess when all you get is the same thing all your life, even if it's good, something new can have a strong effect on a man. Jerome had always been fear personified. He'd been a walking weapon of death and destruction, and somehow in that chaos Harley found himself making a home. It made Jerome feel incredible. Maybe he wasn't as bad as everyone thought.

"Can I see those drawings you did last night?" Harley leaned back so they were looking at each other. Jerome had an odd expression on his face. Not the one Bruce and Jeremiah wore when they looked at each other, but a very close approximation. It made Harley's heart pick up.

"Sure." He slid out of bed to pad to the living room, snagging his drawing pad and returning with it. He sat in bed this time, extending the drawing pad so Jerome could grab it.

The red head say up as well, taking the pad from Harley and beginning to slowly look through it. He took longer than Harley though he had the attention span for, drinking in the different angles and shadows of his own face. He seemed to be scanning it. At one point he reached up and touched his face, his eyebrows coming together. "What are you thinking, J?"

Jerome looked up, a look of concern and confusion on his face. "Is this really how you see me?"

It was Harley's turn to be confused. "What are you talking about?"

He seemed to struggle to explain a few seconds before weakly offering, "I'm beautiful." He immediately scowled. "You make me look... good looking." A deeper scowl. "I mean, I know I'm sexy don't get me wrong, but the way you draw me looks... looks..."

"Pretty?" Harley offered.

"Yes," Jerome groaned, like it hurt him.

Harley bit his lip for a second, thinking. "To me, you were always a work of art. Even before I drew you." He looked at the bed, fingers fiddling with the blanket. "You used to come to my mind all the time when you were dead. I thought of you constantly. Went to therapy over it because they thought it was a side effect of trauma." He snorted, shaking his head. "Turns out I was just infatuated with you." He looked back at Jerome then. "You came to me in dreams when I finally learned how to control my thoughts when awake. Even before we met that day, in person, I was obsessed with you. I used to draw you all the time. I told myself that it was to deal with the trauma of my parents dying, my fixation on death and murderers. People that were considered psychotic and dangerous. And maybe it was, in part. Maybe it began that way. But ever since the first second I saw you, you became this beacon of hope. Hope that in some world, with someone, I could be free from expectation and restrictions. That I could be wild and have fun and be GAY and not have to worry about what other people thought. You stood for the happiness I've been denied since the first day time I ever found anyone attractive." He paused. "Helped that you were incredibly attractive." Jerome giggled at that and Harley's smile widened. "You're so silly." Jerome scooted closer, kissing Harley so deeply he lost all of his breath. He leaned away after too short a time though, tilting his head. "Let's do something fun today."

"Like what?" Harley asked. He was getting good at keeping track with Jerome's zipping thought train.

Considering, Jerome grew quiet. "I want to take you on a date. Something nice." Harley deflated. "It's not smart to go out right now. We're trying to convince Bruce and the police that you're dead. If you're seen it'll all be over."

Jerome pouted. "Let me take you somewhere."

A long sigh came from Harley. "Do you want to die?" Jerome shook his head no. "Do you want to get caught and sent to Arkham?" Another silent no. "Then what the hell do you suppose we do that won't require any people, when we're in the middle of a huge city?"

Quiet groans and Jerome was flopping back on the bed, making Harley smile fondly. "I can't stay here forever, Harley! It's BORING. You get to go out all the time and check in on our dear brothers. Why don't I get to?"

"Because you'd be found out," Harley reminded patiently. "And entrapped. Or killed. Or entrapped and then killed."

There was a pause where Jerome was quiet. "You must go to Jeremiah's again and get me new information." Harley nodded, moving to get off the bed so he could get ready to head out. Jerome was suddenly moving though, pinning him before he could leave all the way. "But before you do that, I would like you to leave me with something to think about. Something to make this day a little more worth it." He licked his lips. "Entertain me, Harley." His eyes darkened and Harley shivered.

"Yes sir." - "Hey Harley!" Jeremiah greeted brightly. Harley chuckled at the boy. How was he twins with Jerome? That lightness and energy came so easily to this man, where Jerome struggled to even accept the idea of adorableness, let alone embody it constantly. But this wasn't the time to think about Jerome. "How did your date with the boy wonder go?" Jeremiah was bouncing on his toes. It was genuinely adorable. "He kissed me."

Harley launched to his feet. "What?" He was grinning, hands outstretched as if deciding on whether to grab him or pump into the air victoriously.

"Yeah!" Jeremiah squeaked.

"That's awesome!" Harley gushed. "Tell me everything! Wait- where's Ecco?"

"I already told her," Jeremiah dismissed, waving his hand through the air. "She picked me up afterward and I filled her ears with it all the way home.

Harley giggled, his nose scrunching in amusement. "I bet she loved that." Jeremiah blushed and Harley winked, nudging his friend playfully. "Okay well now it's my turn. Every detail Jeremiah, I'm serious."

And the red head eagerly delivered. The two boys talked for hours, going from the date and all that happened right into Harley waltzing around the room dramatically planning the wedding and the house and family that would follow. "You'll definitely need at least one dog. You both seem like cat people, but I bet your ass that you two raise a kid willing to rough house with a dog. It's got to be huge then. Like so big toddlers can ride on its back, and whenever it wants to go anywhere it'll just drag you along even if you want to go somewhere else."

At this point Jeremiah had covered his face, laying his hands on the counter and his head in the palms of his hands. "Please stop," he groaned, but both boys knew he had to hide his expression or risk showing off the radiant smile he'd hinted at earlier.

"Fine fine fine," Harley sighed, finally sitting back down. He chuckled, sitting back in the chair. He was lounging, legs spread and arms over the back of his seat. He looked comfortable. It was so different than the Wayne boy that had been seen on TV for years. The one Bruce talked about even. Harley really wasn't Y/n. He was... too much like Jerome to ever be that boy again. "What's with the frown?" Harley asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jeremiah debated on whether he should share his thoughts, but Harley leaned forward, showing that he knew Jeremiah was thinking something and that he wouldn't let it drop. Having gotten to the point where Harley could always pry information out of Jeremiah, the redhead didn't even bother fighting him. "I was thinking about how much you remind me of Jerome." Harley hesitated and Jeremiah rushed to add, "Not in a bad way. But your confidence and ease. Your very presence is so much bigger than it used to be. I didn't know you back then, but Bruce has mentioned how you guys used to be. Mostly because he obsesses over the worry that Jerome is still alive so it comes up often, because I always listen. Once he mentions Jerome, then we talk about how things were in my childhood and then it goes to how his childhood used to be and then you come up." He looked away, obviously self conscious about the way Harley's eyes were drilling into him.

"Do you lie to him?"

That caught Jeremiah off guard. "What?" He looked back with an expression like a deer in the headlights, or a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

"Jerome talked to me a lot." Harley watched his words carefully, being sure not to reveal that Jerome STILL talked to him just as much. "And that day in the tunnels, when Jerome tried to kidnap you. He said you lied about your guys' past."

Jeremiah was quiet for a long time. "I don't lie to him." He paused again and Harley waited for him to continue. When Jeremiah realized Harley wasn't going to let it go, he continued. "I don't tell him what I used to tell our mom. I'm... ashamed. You were right when you said I contributed a lot to how Jerome turned out. But, you have to understand Harley he terrified me. He never threatened me per say, but I was the one who always found the bodies of the animals he mutilated. I was the one he talked about to his fantasies about other people. He... He used to say he was joking, and he never did anything until our mom, from what I know, but he was curious and he didn't have the same empathy as everyone else did. For animals at least."

Harley sighed. "He loved me." Jeremiah looked up sharply. "He told me so. And- and you know what, I believed him." Harley swallowed. "Did I ever tell you how we found out where you were?" Jeremiah hesitated before shaking his head. "Would you like to know?" There was a darkness in Harley's voice. One that made Jeremiah want to shy away. But, he was curious too. It was one of the fatal flaws him and Jerome had in common. So, even though he wanted to run, he nodded instead. "We went to your Uncle Zack's."

Immediately Jeremiah cringed. "Oh god."

"So you know what that man is capable of then," Harley eased, even though his expression had not changed at all. It was the same forced calm that Jerome had perfected. The similarity between Harley and Jeremiah's lost brother in that moment made anxiety twist in the redhead's chest. "You know, if I hadn't been there..." He shook his head. "He heated soup to boiling. He wanted to pour it into Jerome's mouth. Thank god I was there to stop that one. What would it have bee like, being a child against grown adults. No where to run, no one to turn to, and no mercy in sight. No reprieve. If I was Jerome, I probably would have killed that bitch you called your mother too."

Harley expected Jeremiah to snap at him, but he didn't. It made the air get even more thick with dark tension. It set into reality not only what Harley had said, but what Jeremiah wouldn't. That he would have too. "I think I'm going to go work on my prototypes." Harley didn't say anything, so Jeremiah left him alone in the quiet.

There was a part of Harley that felt bad for ruining the mood after they'd both been flying so high earlier, but there was also a part of him that didn't care. So he stood up and left through the maze, standing outside to get some air. To breathe after the stifling pressure inside. He hesitated too long, though. If he had just left right then and headed back to Jerome and forgotten about the conversation for the rest of the day, he would have made it out of there with plenty of time. But he didn't. He hesitated and and he breathed and he closed his eyes and felt the sun on his skin.

That was what gave Bruce the time he needed to pull up to Jeremiah's front door just to see Harley standing there. The boy tripped as he got out of the car, his eyes wide and lips parted. "Y/n?"

Harley jerked at the name, flinching away from it. It eyes slammed open, his gaze hard and angry. After the conversation he'd just had with Jeremiah, he was not in the right place to face his brother. Yet, here they both were. "Mr. Wayne," Harley greeted bitterly.

Bruce looked like Harley had slapped him. "Where have you been?" He shook his head. "Where's Jerome?" He then remembered where they were and looked between Harley and the door that lead to the maze where Bruce's boyfriend was. "Why are you here?"

The chaotic barrage of questions made Harley relax. He had the control in this situation. "I'm here because Jeremiah lets be stay here, when I want to. I check in sometimes and talk to him." Any other answer would get him in trouble, and he didn't feel like setting off his brother so he stayed with the truth, ignoring the other two questions.

The Wayne boy stepped forward, settling on angry between the emotions he'd been battling before. "You're friends with Jeremiah?"

"Sort of," Harley shrugged. "And by the way, it's Harley."

Hands curled into fists and Harley found himself slipping into a sort of distant amusement. His stance solidified, arms relaxing and fingers twitching at his sides. Bruce got hit with the same thought Jeremiah had been before. Harley looked a lot like Jerome in that moment, but more sane. In control. He didn't have that same unhinged factor, which left him far more unpredictable. Harley had the air of someone who would kill everyone in the room and then get away with it. Not for chaos' sake, but because he simply didn't care. Seeing sanity int he face of someone so cold and distant and confident sent a chill down Bruce's spine. What had happened to the brother who radiated sunshine and painted the most odd paintings with even weirder origin stories? The brother that couldn't handle even a little confrontation, let alone stand empty handed and still look dangerous? "I guess it is." Bruce's voice was soft and broken. His anger had fallen away, exchanging for a heart break that made Harley shift away from it like it burned him.

The door behind Harley opened. "Wait wait wait!" The voice belonged to Jeremiah, who was scrambling between the brothers as if trying to stop a fight. Maybe it would have eventually turned into that, but as of now all that was happening was Bruce was staring a Harley, looking for answers, and Harley was looking anywhere except at his brother as he refused to give them.

"You know," Harley mused. "I seem to be ruining the mood a lot today. You two love birds spend time together and I'll keep my distance so that my unhappiness won't affect you. How does that sound?"

Jeremiah launched forward, catching Harley's shoulder. "Please," he begged softly. "Don't go."

"Do you want him to leave instead, because I can promise it won't be pretty if we're both here," Harley spat viciously. Jeremiah recognized a deeper level to the boy though. A hurt that was curling into his face. There was more than just anger driving him to run now. There was fear, and pain. Jeremiah had seen that look on Jerome's face far too many times to let Harley go now.

Jeremiah looked at Bruce. "Listen," he sighed heavily. "You're both important to me. I have three friends, and one of them is more of a body guard who's paid to hang around, and another is... more than a friend, if I'm lucky." Bruce couldn't help how his face softened. Jeremiah cleared his throat. "I need as many people in my life as I can get, because I already basically have no one. You guys are brothers, for goodness sake. Don't let life tear you apart like I let happen for me and Jerome." This he directed at Harley. The words seemed to confuse Bruce, but he stayed quiet despite that.

Harley on the other hand looked ready to go. "He doesn't want me here."

"I didn't say that," Bruce rushed before he could rein his self control.

Jeremiah perked up. "You're the one person that can actually reassure Bruce that Jerome is dead."

Ah, how wrong he was. Harley could not honestly reassure Bruce that Jerome was dead. He could, however, convince Bruce that Jerome was dead- and he was also the only person who could. No matter how much of Harley Bruce saw, every time the Wayne heir looked at the man who used to be his best friend, he would always see Y/n. Y/n, who had never once been capable of hiding his emotions or even considering telling a lie, let alone delivering one convincingly. Y/n, who had always valued honesty - especially when it came to family. Who valued trust over power. Who had been abused and pushed around and broken and destroyed, replaced by someone who used lies to get what he wanted like one uses hammers to drive in nails. Harley would lie without hesitation or regret, and Bruce would believe him because Y/n wouldn't lie, and even if he did, Bruce would be able to tell.

"I killed him myself," Harley reassured, looking Bruce in the eye without hesitation.

Bruce formed an expression that spoke of disbelief and doubt, but Harley could see through that into the desperation in Bruce's eyes. "You killed him?"

Harley sighed. "I do that now."

Obviously Bruce didn't like that, but he seemed to accept it at least. "Why?"

This part was easy. "Because he hurt you." Harley shrugged, kicking the dirt under his foot. "He had no reason to involve you. He just did. He didn't even consult me, and he didn't because he knew that if he had I would have said no. We had a deal- no touching you. He might be my partner, but you're my brother and that's more important. No one hurts you. I made that clear since the beginning." He swallowed. That wasn't totally true. In fact, that day he had encouraged Jerome to mess Bruce up a little. Even kill him. But there had been a hesitance to hurt Bruce since the first day even if it had faded over time. Because the truth was, above even Bruce and Alfred, Jerome was the most important person to Harley now. "He was jealous because I cared more about you. He's kind of an attention whore." That was true. Not that Jerome was jealous, but that he was a slut for attention. The more time Harley spent with him, the more obvious it became. Harley didn't mind in the least though.

Bruce seemed to take a moment to consider this and choose his next words before he spoke again. "He sounds obsessive."

Jeremiah scoffed. "If I had to describe Jerome in one words," he mumbled.

"When I was caught with Jerome at the fair, I only ended up there because the first thing Jerome thought about when he came back from the dead was that the last thing he'd thought about when he was alive was that he'd wanted to kill me." Harley scoffed. "He took his wanting to kill me through death with him. If that doesn't spell obsessed, I don't know what does." That was another truth, but yet again Harley didn't mind. He liked to think of being on Jerome's mind, haunting him as the red head had haunted Harley. He liked the thought that not even death could do them part. Or however that line went, whatever.

There was a sort of melting slouch of Bruce's shoulders. He'd given in. Harley had succeeded. "We're not just going to be brothers again. Neither of us are the same."

"The last time I saw you my boyfriend was trying to kill you, and before that I was convinced you'd been brainwashed by some cult, so yeah we have some catching up to do."

Bruce looked at Jeremiah who perked up. "Wonderful! Dinner, anyone?"

"Actually," Harley edged. "I think we both have a lot to think about. Maybe rushing it all tonight wouldn't be the best idea." For the first time in a long time, Bruce nodded in agreement with Harley. In fact, it had probably been the first time Bruce had agreed with Harley since he had stopped being Y/n Wayne.

"Fine," Jeremiah sighed. "But I expect you two to have a dinner together within the next week. I won't let you just avoid it."

Harley sighed and nodded, turning away from the other two boys and heading toward his car. "Use protection!" Harley called, smirking when he heard the boys behind him groan in unison. Before they could curse him though, he slipped into his car and closed the door, cutting off any attempts of communication. He turned his car on and drove away, letting his smile melt away when he was positive he was out of view. His hands tightened on the wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white. His jaw locked, beginning to hurt after a few seconds it was cemented so. Not wanting to get pulled over when he was in a car that wasn't technically in his name - he'd gotten it a long time ago when he still worked with Penguin - and was, more importantly, a wanted criminal. Focusing on safe driving only got him to the front door though. He slammed it closed, standing in his doorway glaring at the floor.

And then he snapped.

A scream ripped out of him as he reached for the closest things light enough to pick up and began throwing them across the room. Some - a vase, a few dishes that hadn't been taking to the kitchen yet, a table decoration - shattered, while most of it landed safely after crashing into more things - books slamming into chairs, pillows knocking things off the wall, a shoe hitting the edge of a full length mirror hard enough that it tilted, so on. Altogether, he was creating a lot of noise, destruction, and chaos.

Jerome ran into the scene, looking rather startled. Harley wasn't the angry type. He had never been, except the rare times Penguin had been able to unlock long since buried trauma that he wasn't dealing with. Oswald had taught him to both control AND channel his emotions, so that they could be expressed but also make you look more terrifying rather than show as weaknesses and wear you away to nothing. No one had seen this side of Harley except him yet, and Jerome wasn't quite sure how to handle it. In fact, it reminded him a little of... his mom.

When Harley finally stopped, he turned away from Jerome, curling his fingers around his short hair very tightly, tugging as he planted his forehead against the wall furthest from Jerome. The redhead paused before slowly making his way over. "Harley?" His voice was soft. The anger in his boyfriend had unlocked a fear in him that he hadn't felt like this since he was a child. He was scared of Harley losing it again, both because he didn't want to have this feeling get worse, and also because if Harley was upset enough to melt down like this, he might get destructive with himself rather than loose objects.

Or worse, Harley might get destructive with Jerome.

"I'm sorry," Harley croaked. He took a deep breath, finally dropping his hands and leaning away from the wall before turning to Jerome. This was closer to the Harley Jerome knew. A little exhausted from his heavy emotions, but otherwise solid and in control. "I'm sorry J." His voice was stronger now. More fluid and solid. He saw Jerome's expression and slowly approached. Jerome didn't move away. When Harley touched him, Jerome didn't flinch even though his pulse skipped a beat. Not something totally new with Harley, except that this wasn't a good spike. The emotion he felt was new when it came to Harley. "I'm sorry," Harley said again, pulling Jerome to him until their foreheads touched. "Did I upset you?"

Jerome's brain had short circuited a bit. After being free of his mom for years, he'd grown a solid defense against things that reminded him of her. But Harley had waited until he was past all of Jerome's walls and defenses. Until he had become Jerome's home and safety embodied. Seeing such anger now threw Jerome for a loop. How would he leave Harley now if things got bad like it used to be with his mom? I had taken Jerome eighteen years to kill his mother and get away from her, and she had been... terrible. How would he do the same to Harley, who had claimed all of the most important parts of Harley and become essential to Jerome's insanity. Harley was the one who calmed him after nightmares, and defused a situation that set off something that triggered backlash from Jerome's past. Harley was the one who saved him from his uncle and his brother and his past. How would he get rid of someone like that?

"You looked... like her." The words were soft.

Harley froze. "Jerome-"

Jerome turned away and left. He said some joke but didn't hear it, too busy trying to think about how to backtrack and defend himself again from these emotions with Harley's help. "Never mind," he breathily dismissed, waving his hand in the air.

Harley wasn't having it though. He caught the hand, forcing Jerome to stop and face him. His face was serious, but his eyes were soft. "I would never hurt you, do you understand?I might what I said that day I pulled you from that ledge, Jerome Valeska. You lead, I will follow. I love you and I will do anything you ask of me. You don't have to be afraid of me. Even if i get angry and break shit, you are still safe with me."

"You're so dramatic," Jerome sighed, looping his arm over Harley's shoulders. His body had relaxed though. Even if he did a fantastic job of brushing things off and playing like nothing effected him, Harley's words had brought him a sense of peace he would never admit he needed. "I mean, anything? You won't even let me leave or kill our brothers."

Harley blew air out of his nose upon remembering Bruce. "If that's what you really want."

"Really?" Jerome faced him, surprised. Harley had been so adamant about doing neither for the last several weeks. Why change his mind now? Unlike Harley, Jerome was not a good people reader. Not for details, at least. He could tell when someone was scared of him, or when they were intrigued or interested or disgusted. He couldn't read Harley's micro signs though.

Harley rolled his eyes. "Ran into Bruce on my way back today." His lips curled but this time it didn't make Jerome nervous. He couldn't even think why Harley would remind him of his mother. Jerome broke things when he was angry too. Harley hadn't even know Jerome's mom. He was getting side tracked, but Harley spoke again, pulling his thoughts back as Harley's voice always did. "Jeremiah wants us to make amends and catch up. Wants us to spend dinner together. Ugh."

"My brother trying to make the world perfect for him?" Jerome joked. "Never."

Harley chuckled softly. No matter his state, Jerome could always make him laugh. "Yeah. I just- Bruce stills wants me to be that weak little scared boy I used to be. I'm better now. Happier and stronger. Maybe that scares him because I didn't succeed the way he wanted me to, but that doesn't change the fact that I can fight for myself now. I don't just settle and lie down and take shit. If he had it his way, along with everyone in this stupid city, I would sit in a chair in the corner of every room and sit in Bruce's shadow, there to talk to him when he needs company but otherwise be ignored and be okay with that. Alone, by myself, maybe with a girl who I can have kids with." He shuddered and Jerome followed with a scowl. Neither liked the idea of that, "Even worse, I'd be working for my younger brother. Working at Wayne incorporated, or as some sort of side kick as he stop bad guys or whatever." He grunted in disgust. "As if they even know what bad is."

Jerome pulled Harley toward the couch and next to him. When they were both seated, Jerome continued to tug on Harley until the boy curled into the redhead's side. All cuddled up, both seemed to feel a lot better with the words of a future that made both of them sick still ringing in their ears. "You know, if we're going back to being gay and doing crime and all that fun stuff, it might not hurt to be around your brother."

Harley sat up, eyebrows pulled together. "Why him? He's just a cop wannabe."

"He's friends with Gordon though, isn't he? Can you imagine how much power you had at your fingertips when everyone thought you were good and harmless and not even a wisp of a threat? Now you're none of those things, and the only person who knows your true potential is Mr. Penguin." He shrugged, his smile growing. "I've seen you do it before. Heard stories about your escapades with the Little Man, and you've told me before how valuable sneaking is. Never something I did because I never could have pulled it off, but you..." He pointed at Harley, getting excited now. "Why isn't Bruce following you around, or questioning you, or taking you to the police in an attempt to find me?"

Tracing the pattern of the couch, Harley tried not to smirk. "I told him what he wanted to hear."

The smirk that Harley was repressing shone on Jerome's face like light from the sun. Brilliant and bright. He hopped up onto the couch into a crouch, his fingers dancing in the air like he was constructing an orchestra. "What a clever boy. Deserves a reward..."

Now Harley grinned. "What did you have in mind?"

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midnight4krisis · 5 years

Text

I Want This - Part One

Predebut era, Trainee!Reader

Han Jisung/ Older Reader (ft. Bang Chan)

Warnings: A Roller coaster of fluff, light angst, and (eventual) smut. Some cringey texts I’m sorry kdhi

Summary: You met Chan on your first day of training, and never left his side ever since. You shared everything together, even the same group of friends. He was the only one you ever trusted, the only warmth you needed until Han Jisung came into the picture. Count: 2k+

Part One Part Two Part Three

A/N: Even though this is predebut, I’m going to treat the characters with their current ages.

It was pouring outside, your dark bedroom illuminated softly by the reoccurring lightning.

Tucked under your covers, your body shivered with each sound of thunder, eyes darting at your shaking windows. You were never the type to be phased by the weather, but today was different.

The rain had been going on since sundown, growing with each hour, and It was 12 am already yet your roommate was nowhere to be found, having already left your dorm room to attend a gathering at some bar with the rest of the older trainees, probably sheltered from the storm underground.

You never joined her on any of these events, not that she wasn’t fun, but it’s mostly because you preferred the company of the younger trainees. Something about their raw energy and carefree attitude really drew you to them, and you never understood the issue in enjoying slightly sillier activities or just plain fooling around to get your mind off of the daily stress.

Usually, you were the one taking care of them and providing a place of comfort for when they needed help or advice, even if you weren’t the most helpful. And yet today was one of those days where you were the one that needed the comfort since the change of weather seems to be playing with your own mood, but even the youngsters were busy with their practice today, leaving you dreading that gap in your schedule.

You heard knocking on the door, and you know it’s strange since no one else in this level was there.

“Coming” you got up despite the fear, still wrapped in your blanket.

“Hey y/n” you opened the door to the sweetest smile spread across a pale fit young man leaning on your door frame.

“Chris!” You grinned in relief at the sight of your best friend. “Thank God you’re here.”

He lets out a small chuckle, his dimples becoming more prominent, and it only made you smile more. “Why, what’s up?” He looked around dramatically, then whispered: “are you scared?”

You pushed him playfully and he continued to giggle at your reaction “No! I’m just..”

“Hmm?”

“Stop it!” Your pitch became a little higher. “Okay, I’m a little phased by it, but only because it’s been going on for hours! And I’m alone with nothing to do and it’s a little dark an-“

“Ok ok, all you had to say is ‘please come in Chris I need you’” he cut you off.

You rolled your eyes at his teasing and pouted your lips childishly before deciding to give in. “Ugh, just come in”

He makes his way to sit on your bed as you turn on the lights.

“Woah.” He attempts to hold in the laugh this time. “I didn’t realize you were wearing that” He points his eyes at the baby blue blanket hugging your body.

“ it’s cold!” You raise your eyebrows at him.

“Not that cold.” He mocked.

You narrowed your eyes and ran towards him while unwrapping the blanket to throw it over his head and land beside him.

“What the-“ he struggled to get the tangled cover off, and you couldn’t help but laugh in revenge. “Seriously?” He glared at you through his messy hair, then shook his head as he laughed it off and wrapped the blanket around both of you.

You couldn’t believe how easily he had introduced coziness and comfort into your gloomy room, but then again this was Chris.

“So, how come Christopher Bang is free on a night like this?” You swayed your head at him.

He rolled his eyes “It got really boring hanging around a laptop for the past week”

“You don’t say?” You giggled. “I kept nagging you to take a break so you won't burn out, but no-“

He covered your mouth and hissed “I know, but I told you many times, once I’m in the zone, I can’t get out.”

You snatched his hand away “I just hate it when you drain yourself like that.” You pout, then stared at the red veins in his eyes, his bent posture devoured of energy, and you realized this might not be the most comfortable position for your overworked friend.

“Do you want to lay down a little?” You extend your hands towards the stack of pillows and stuffed dolls on the back of your bed.

Chris immediately grabbed your fluffy panda, as if he had waited for the opportunity. “Mayybe” he squeezed the stuffed animal.

You giggle as you escaped from the wrapped blanket and rearranged the pillows for him, and got up to close the lights and darken the room once more but this time adding the dancing flame of two scented candles.

“These are my favorite scents when I need to relax, lavender and-“

“Cheese cake?!”

“Vanilla” you said in between your laughter.

“Close enough! Gosh, I’m hungry.” He groans and stretches more over the bed, still grasping your panda.

“Honestly, what’s new?” You jump over the pile of pillows behind him, leaning over your side so that you’re looking down at him. “But have you actually eaten anything today? Or did you forget while working like always?” You started playing with his hair.

“I may or may not have done the latter”

“Chris!” You whined and pulled his hair slightly.

“Ouch! You know I can’t do anything about it.” He bent his neck to look up at you.

“Yes you can, I always told you even if you’re too busy to get something yourself, you can tell me.”

“I’m not going to burden you like that.” He brought his head back down. “You have your own stuff to worry about.”

“Don’t make me pull that hair out of your scalp” he chuckled at your brutal comment. “Besides, it’s not like I have that much going on.” You sigh.

“Uhh y/n.” His voice starts to stagger. “You’re constantly practicing and doing your best, daily. I’m sure something great is waiting for you soon. Just don’t think about it too much.”

“Yeah.” You continue caressing his hair. “I know that. Honestly, who am I to complain when it’s only been 3 years” you let out a faint chuckle. “That’s nothing compared to what you’ve been through. I’m really happy for you, Chris.” You smiled wholeheartedly, poking his slightly rosy cheeks.

“I know.” He giggled, but soon after that, his face became devoid of expression. “I’m just” he sighed. “a little worried about the possibility of eliminations. I don’t think I could leave any of the guys behind.”

“And you won’t have to. They’re all ready for this, and your bond as a team in itself is enough to amaze anyone, Chris.” You reassured him, staring straight into his rheumy eyes. “It’s gonna be alright, I promise.”

He shut his eyes right after you said that then turned to curl his body into the side of your bed, leaving you a little startled at his reaction.

“Thank you, y/n.” He mumbled, and the subtle sounds of his soft snoring soon followed, and couldn’t hold in the wide smile forming on your face.

You continued playing with his curly strands while staring at the rainfall now slowly sliding on your windows, it seemed like he drifted the storm away on his way to sleep, like the sky had been roaring for his aching body to rest.

You stumbled back to reality at the buzzing of a phone beside you, it was Chan’s, and you couldn’t stop yourself from quickly peeking at the spam of messages.

“HYUNG”

“HYUNG WHERE ARE YOU”

“I know you’re working but why are you not answering the door?”

“You can’t possibly have gone to that weird party with Minho Hyung?!”

“YOU DID?!”

“CHAN HYUNG STOP LEAVING YOUR PHONE ON SILENT IM GONNA SCREAM”

When the messages kept coming, you were starting to worry, but at the same time couldn’t for the life of you wake him up.

So, you decided to use the privilege of having your fingerprint saved on his phone to see what’s going on without bothering the poor guy.

You stared at the contact name. “Jisung?”

“Final call: HYUNNNGGGG”

“Jisung calm the f down, what’s going on? it’s y/n, Chris is asleep right now..”

“Y/n? What are you doing with Chan’s phone? Where are you guys?”

“We’re at my room, and you were sending too many messages so I had to check. Sorry, but I couldn’t wake him up after he finally got some sleep.”

“Hyung? Sleeping? Is this a miracle?”

“My magic 😌 or my panda’s, he’s suffocating him right now”

“Please take a pic, I need that for..research”

“Bold of you to assume I hadn’t already taken one, but you’re not getting your hands on it.”

“Pshh I’m coming to see the real thing”

“?”

“👀”

“Did you just invite yourself to my room? Uh hell no, Chris needs rest 😠”

“NOONA PLEASE IM LITERALLY THE ONLY ONE AWAKE”

“DO NOT CALL ME THAT and is that why you kept spamming him? Well, your insomniac parter has abandoned you tonight”

“This is not fair 😭”

“Yes it is, and you should get some sleep too, you guys had practice all day.”

“But I cannnnt. Why don’t you spare me some of your magic too?”

“Nop, you have to earn it”

“Noona why do you hate me? 😒”

“Maybe because YOU KEEP CALLING ME NOONA”

“But you are my noona”

“But Idc I don’t like it, makes me feel old”

“Oh please, everyone knows you act like a 10-year-old”

“🙂🔪"

“IN A GOOD WAY, a really adorable way actually, but I still like calling you noona”

“And I still hate it, AND YOU”

“Pshh I’ll make you love it”

“Lol how”

“Like this..”

You suddenly heard faint knocking on the door. “Unbelievable.” You muttered before being forced to get up and answer so Chris won’t wake up.

“NOON—“ Jisung said loudly before you covered his mouth.

“Shhh” you whispered. “What is the one thing I told you not to do?!”

“Come to your room? Bother chan? Calling you nooooon—“

You cut him off again “see? you demonstrated my point exactly” you giggled a little at the silliness of the entire situation.

Truth is you obviously wanted him around, you didn’t feel like sleeping anytime soon and wasn’t entirely comfortable with sharing a bed with your best friend, so having Jisung as a distraction till Chris woke up wasn’t a bad idea.

You just don’t know why you love teasing him, maybe because his reactions are always over the top and entertaining to see, or maybe because he does the same to you.

“Just let me in and I promise I won’t annoy Chan Hyung” he pouted

“Hmm” you pretended to give it a thought.

“Come on, pleaaase” he grabbed your shoulders and shook you around gently “NOONA PLEASE”

“No no, stop saying that” you groaned.

“I won’t stop, noona. I won’t stop until you let me in”

“Fine, just-“ you let go from his grip. “Don’t make a sound” you emphasized on your way in.

He closed the door behind him quietly and you both sat down on the far edge of the bed.

“You weren’t lying about the panda.” He exclaimed with a slight chuckle, observing his teammate in his peaceful sleep. “Must be so nice sleeping over a mountain of pink pillows Chan.”

You laughed at the desperation in his voice, like he actually meant it. “Don’t even think about joining him.”

He looked back at you instantly. “I’m offended.”

“I can’t have two guys sleeping on my bed!” You whispered dramatically.

“As if having one is less weird.” He snorted.

“Nah, it’s Chris! You know it’s not like that.” You react in a slightly defensive tone.

“Shh.” He imitated the way you shut him earlier, whispering “you’ll wake him up.” Before laughing it off once you gave him a slight push. “I know, noon-“

“No.”

He let out a low chuckle. “But I’ll be honest, not everyone does.”

“Does what?”

“You know..” he leaned his head towards the direction of the blond laying behind you, and your eyes stretched wide open.

“Me and Chris?!” You accidentally raised your voice but proceeded to yell through the whisper. “You guys think?”

“Ehh” he hesitated to answer.

“What! No, we’re not- that’s not how-“

“I know I know, relax.” He giggled and reached for your wrists to calm you down, His tone and expression softening as he spoke. “Yes we had our suspicions at first because we weren’t used to friendships like that, but it’s pretty obvious by now, so don’t worry about it.”

You nodded and looked down at your snatched wrists. skin-ship was a regular thing between you and Chris, you can’t pinpoint exactly when it started being so, but it became too natural for you to think of it otherwise, and you assumed it was the same for him as well. For reasons beyond your understanding, you felt safe around him.

However, it wasn’t that way with the other guys, so staring at Jisung’s fingers rested on your skin in that fashion felt foreign, your instincts pulled back before you realized it.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable” He rubbed his neck and looked away. “I should tone it down with the teasing, it’s getting annoying.”

“No, it’s not that-“ you buried your face in your palms. “I never know how to explain this, I just trust him more than anyone.” You release your face and look up slowly.

“You guys spent the longest together in training, it makes sense that you’d be this close.” He shrugged.

You nodded.

“Anyway, do I smell vanilla?” He looked around, trying to change the subject.

“And Lavender.” You juggled your eyebrows.

“Damn y/n, no wonder he’s passed out, you really know your stuff.”

“Thank you.” You chuckled.

Jisung always knew how to keep the mood bright, it was something you really admired about the boy.

You can’t recall a moment where the smile left his full cheeks, or where the sparkle left his dark eyes.

And through the next hour it was all the same, your roommate still nowhere in sight, your best friend passed out on your bed, and Han Jisung failing to keep the both of you quiet from all the laughter.

It didn’t seem like Chris is waking up anytime soon, and for a while, you forgot how late it was, until Jisung let out a low yawn, and yours followed. “I think you need to wake him up before you and I pass out beside him"

You looked back with furrowed eyes. “I don’t have it in me, look at him.”

He sighs. “I’ll get going then, have fun explaining this to your roommate.” He scoffed as he got up.

“Wait, you’re not going anywhere” you tugged at the tip of his T-shirt, looking up at him, you just realized how baggy he wore his clothes, and how good his golden skin looked in black. “Not until he wakes up.”

“But I thought you didn’t want me here.” He smirked.

“Just sit down Jisung.” You whined.

He obliged, but the smirk failed to leave his face as he stared at you.

“What?” You felt the blood running to your cheeks. why was he looking at you that way all of a sudden?

“Nothing.” He shook his head and looked down, and for some reason, his fluffy hair was so tempting to pet.

He continued to glance at you when you came in contact with his soft strands, the goofiest smile engulfed his face. “Are you bribing me to stay.”

“Am I?” You gently brushed his bangs out of his face. “Maybe.” Or maybe you couldn’t resist it.

He laughed and pulled away. “I’m not falling for that, I’m tired, right? I practiced all day, remember?” He imitated you again.

“Why are you acting like you weren’t the one who begged to come here in the first place?” You smirked back, inching closer.

“And why are you ignoring the fact that you absolutely needed me?” He slowly leaned back.

“I did?” You tangled your fingers in his hair again.

“Uhmm” he hummed before shooting his hands back to catch himself from leaning over, only to hear the loud breath escaping Chan.

“Shoot!” He quickly removed the hand he accidentally rested on Chan’s leg, and the two of you stared widely waiting for him to wake up.

But to your relief, he didn’t.

You both looked back at each other, stuck in the same position, his face now just as flushed as yours, and at the moment you forgot you were almost on top of your younger friend.

You were gazing at a completely different Jisung now, and you only wanted to get closer.

“Noona?” He whispered softly, his face close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath.

“Y-yes” you started to stutter, frozen in place.

“Can we move off the bed?” He brought his other hand to your hand caught in his hair, and the contact felt electrifying. “Hyung might wake up.”

You mummed, still processing the cause of your wavering body.

He snatched your hand in his and brought them in between you, caressing it as his whispers deepened “Noona.”

You blinked, your breaths growing shorter, eyes finally leaving him to wander towards his lips. How come you never noticed how sweet they looked?

He tugged at your hand to come closer and bit his lower lip.

He noticed.

Was it the cold weather that confused your body’s shivers? or the adrenaline left from the frightening thunder? you weren’t sure, but what you were certain of is that whatever it was that pushed you towards his lips, you didn’t want it to go away.

529 notes · View notes

kintatsujo · 5 years

Note

Um... This is going to sound like a weird question, but... you watched Yu-Gi-Oh back when it was still airing, right? What was that like? Did you have any theories or predictions about what would happen? Were they confirmed? What was the fandom like? Was there discourse? I ask because I was so little back then that I only caught snippets of episodes, so by the time I actually got into the fandom the series was over and I got spoiled pretty much immediately. Sorry if this is out of the blue!

okay lol sorry for taking a bit to answer this it’s been

one of those weeks

Okay so yes! Yugioh was the first fandom I was actively in and yes, there was fandom fighting

We basically fought about literally everything; it’s a lot more laid back even if you consider that I’m better at picking people to be in a community with now

Some Debates included

what continuity was Better (much like today but complicated by the fact that for a while it was harder to get one’s HANDS on certain continuities; which is why there are people who think Series Zero was Super Serious as opposed to being Pretty Silly)

Shipping wars, as you’d expect, but Silentshipping was actually a pretty huge ship at the time (and I’m still convinced its rarity now was because of a concerted bullying effort, given the reaction I still see to @shizukazilla every time someone finds it)

Whether or not Alister was a dude or a chick in the Japanese, which lasted about a week but was quite vicious

“Yami Terrence,” where someone insisted Malik was going to be renamed “Something stupid like Terrence” randomly on her personal shitty-ass Geocities site (which was literally just a profile about herself with a random rant about how much she hated the Yugioh dub) and then an entire section of the fandom took it as gospel that this was going to be his name until the episode he’s first called “Marik” aired

Lots and lots and LOTS of Tea bashing, which I am quite relieved most of the fandom has moved on from because I Have Seen Things Which Cannot Be Unseen

“It’s impossible to do a good nexgen”

I did indeed have at least one theory confirmed and that was basically that Atem was going to die (and I feel bad about that in retrospect but my tendency to be too genre savvy for my own good is one I’ve had for a long time)

The biggest subset of fandom theories was generally about what Atem’s actual name was going to turn out to be and they were pretty much all wrong

Also: The reason I never much got into Yugioh The Abridged Series is because initially it was literally all jokes we were literally all making with some shit that made me genuinely uncomfortable thrown in, go figure I guess?

There were a lot more fics and speculation based on the video games than there is now and I honestly miss it even though I never did play them

At its height Yugioh was absolutely more popular than Pokemon. Like, I’d walk through the store and there’s Mai on the TV Guide. I have so much random ass packaging from cereal bars and cereal; also the cereal was basically triangular Captain Crunch and again I genuinely miss it

The readership for one of the fan magazines thought Johnny Depp should play Malik in a live action movie and I’ve never forgiven them

A “dueling tutorial” DVD that one of these magazines put out where one of the kids insisted on calling Celtic Guardian “Seltic” Guardian like the basketball team and clearly was very smug about the dub pronouncing it “wrong” (the dub isn’t pronouncing Celtic wrong btw)

actually on that note of non-digital fandom both Junior and Senior year of high school I basically sat and watched my Junior year boyfriend’s buddies play Yugioh and DBZ every lunch and one of the kids insisted on calling his all-female monster deck his “Vagina Deck” (I know), plus there was a lot of ragging on Exodia

SO MANY little independent fansites like oh my god, like if the internet were a vast ocean and Tumblr were a continent these would basically have been the Pacific Islands

one of the most notable fansites was run by this guy named Edo and a Big Theory is that Edo Phoenix was actually named after him; he actually made this like, really broken little computer game for the card game I think he never finished but which Invid played for like weeks worth of hours

There was a Mary Sue Test people kept referring people to that was more stringent about character design than whoever drew the Battle City background characters

there’s

there’s a lot

it was a lot

#yugioh #lilypadpanda

33 notes · View notes

mf-despair-queen · 6 years

Text

Fake Dates - Stuart Twombly

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Characters: Stuart Twombly/Reader

Word Count: 17,921

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Unprotected Sex, Protected Sex, Drunk Sex, Kinda Jealous Sex, Oral (both receiving), Face Riding, 69, Reverse Cowgirl, Side Sex, Sexy Finger Sucking, Making Out, Multiple Orgasms, Dirty Talk, Cowgirl, Kinda Romantic Sex, Mentions of Alcohol, Mentions of Drunk Driving (please don’t do that, it’s bad)

Notes: I will actually admit that I really liked this. That says a LOT for me! As always, if the mobile app screws with you, I’m sorry. All I can say is try opening it in the web browser if you need to, even a mobile web browser SHOULD work. Thanks to @malia--stilinski and @savage-stilinski for lurking while I wrote and editing for me because I can’t spell LOL.

“Lunch time!” You were hollering the second the clock on your desk struck noon. You barely were able to push in your chair before you grabbed your laptop, sliding it in your bag, throwing said bag over your shoulder as you moved from your spot. Bouncing towards your friend, you linked arms with her, draggin neha towards the exit and down to the cafe-coffee shop combo. Neha laughed at your excitement, joking about your love for food.

You broke away from her once you walked in, picking up a salad from the cooler and tucking it under your arm to head to the coffee counter. You ordered your two normal coffees - a tall with hazelnut cream and sugar and a tall caramel macchiato - and shuffled towards the exit where Neha was already waiting with her own salad.

“Either you got me a coffee without telling me, you really need caffeine today, or,” she paused, nudging your side lightly so the coffee didn’t spill as you walked through the packed Google corridors, “we are expecting a third party for lunch today.”

“I hate ordering your coffee,” you smugly stated, sticking your tongue at her. “You always get something super complicated. Some… grande low-fat Italian Roast coffee with 2% milk and extra espresso and exactly two sugars, no more. Whip cream and caramel flavor and… No. Too much to remember.”

“It’s delicious though,” she hummed.

“Right,” you returned. “We know I’m not allowed more than one cup of coffee every few hours. So, yes. Stuart is joining us for lunch. He texted me about a half hour that he was on his way over. He had his optometrist appointment earlier and is just coming in for the afternoon. He said he would join us for lunch before we head back to the office.”

“Are you sure you want me there then?” She asked with an eyebrow raised. “I don’t want to interfere with you and your boy.”

“My little Stu Boo?” You laughed, Neha smirking at you. “Don’t give me that look. It’s just a nickname. You know that. There is absolutely nothing going on between us.”

“Right,” she drew out skeptically.

“What’s that supposed to mean? We are just friends, Neha! Nothing more, nothing less. He is my best friend and has been since the internship. I do not, and I repeat, do not have feelings for Stuart Twombly.”

She hummed under her breath, sounding unconvinced at your words. Instead of arguing further, you dropped it, changing the topic until you hit the lounge you normally ate in. The room was filled already, but your spot in the back corner was reserved by the sweater-wearing dumb dork that was your best friend. He pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, slumped backwards in the plush cushions of the couch he was sat upon. His nose was buried in his phone as always, not bothering to look up when you pushed the door open with some struggle. You smiled, seeing he had forgone his beanie for once. His brownish colored sweater hung open lazily, a white button up under it, his black undershirt poking through the top unbuttoned buttons. His hair stuck up in a stylish quiff, the dark chocolate color looking fluffy on his head.

“I see a Mr. Twombly in our midst,” you hummed, holding out the caramel macchiato. It was taken without looking, Stuart simply waving in acknowledgement. You sneered at him playfully, placing your coffee and salad on the table, purposefully pushing past him to take the seat to his right. “Excuse me,” you joked, tucking your skirt under you, dropping onto the couch next to him. Your flip flops slid off your feet, your legs curled under your form where you were planted.

“That’s rude,” he deadpanned, sipping his coffee. He glanced at Neha, who shook her head. “How do you put up with her?”

“I should ask you the same thing,” Neha laughed, suggestively glancing between you both. “She’s your best friend.”

“I regret that decision every day.”

“I regret it too,” you snapped back at him. “Because your rude ass got tacos on your way here from the eye doctor and you didn’t even bring me some? It’s from Jose’s too. That’s the best tacos in town, dude. You left me to get some shitty salad from the cafe. Friendship officially ruined.”

“Right,” he flatly replied, opening the bag of food he had on the table. He pulled out his platter, two loose tacos wrapped neatly on top of it. You squealed in delight, taking the tacos. “I know you and tacos, Y/N. I would have been disowned if I didn’t get you the carne asada tacos.”

“I love you,” you cheered, kissing his cheek. Wiping his cheek in disgust, the man grimaced and turned away, unamused.

“What about me?” Neha complained.

“Get your own damn tacos,” came Stuart’s blunt reply.

“Rude!”

You pulled out your laptop, browsing the internet and your calendar as you sat in silence. The only sound between your trio was the crunching of food and the slurping of drinks, joined by occasional typing of your keyboards. Three laptops covered the table, joined by the scattered cups and food wrappers. It wasn’t unusual for your group to not interact. It was the peace of being with each other that gave you solace during lunch. No words needed to be shared unless there was something that needed to be discussed.

But, seeing as you saw their faces five days a week for nine to ten hours, if not more, you were able to have plenty of conversations to pass the work time.

You leaned back in your seat, watching some stupid video on Youtube your friend shared. Neha was typing furiously on her laptop, her smile curling occasionally - probably flirting with some tech guy again. Stuart was nose deep in his phone once more, his fingers skillfully swiping at the keyboard. He was hunched forward with his elbows on his knees, letting you run your fingers along his back absentmindedly, It helped him relax; it helped you relax. Only you were allowed to touch him like that. He always said he liked your light touch.

Perks of best friendship.

“Hey, Y/N,” Stuart called. You glanced over at him in confusion, Stuart’s phone held up in selfie mode. Your head cocked to the side, unable to smile before he snapped the photo. You blinked once, scooting closer to his side to look at the photo.

“Stu, I look horrible in that!” you cried sadly. Stuart held a cute dorky, lopsided smile in the photo and you? You looked like a deer in headlights, confused why the nerd specimen beside you was calling out for you. You eyes were wide and your lips were slightly parted, head cocked ever so slightly.

“Not possible,” he said quickly, typing away on his phone. You leaned your chin on his shoulder, watching what he was doing. He had sent the photo in a chat it seemed. “I know, I should have asked first, but my friends wanted to see you.”

“You have friends?”

“Very funny,” he snapped. “They’re my best friends from home. They didn’t believe me when I said I you were my friend. They couldn’t believe that I, Stuart Twombly, had a girl friend. So, they wanted proof!”

You blinked, looking at him. “Girl… friend?”

“Yeah. A girl that is a friend,” he said, his head turning towards you. His eyes narrowed on your blank face. “What?”

“Your friends asked about you having a friend that is a girl?” He nodded slowly. “Because you told them you have a girl… friend.”

“Yeah,” he said, almost matter-of-fact.

“You didn’t think to tell them you have a female friend?” You continued.

“What’s the difference?” he asked, not understanding what you were trying to say. “Female, girl. Same thing in the end.”

“Alright, let me try saying it like this,” you tried. “Stuart has a female friend.”

“Yeah.”

“Or,” you breathed. “Stuart has a girl friend.” He blinked. “Oh my God, Stu. Girlfriend! They think you have a girlfriend! As in romantically. As in you are dating! As in you just sent them a picture of us so they think I am your girl.”

“You are my girl though.”

“Not like that!” You cried. “They think you kiss me. And we hold hands. And probably other perverted things because guys are fucking horn dogs and only think with the cocks.”

“Hey,” he sighed, almost offended.

“You can’t say you don’t,” you glared. “Need I remind you about the strip club? Or that time I walked into your dorm and you were-”

“We don’t talk about that!” he blushed, cutting you off before Neha could hear. “We agreed never to bring that up again.”

“Porn is normal,” you whispered under your breath for him to hear. “Masturbating is normal.”

“But you seeing me jerk off isn’t,” he seethed. “But, you’re wrong. These guys have known me for years. They are the only people I was able to talk to in high school. They know me and they know that I don’t mean girlfriend. Just wait and see when they reply.”

“Ten bucks says they think we’re dating,” you huffed, grabbing your phone from your bag. You stayed pressed to his side, arms wrapped around his bicep, hugging him close. Stuart didn’t protest, just resumed what he was doing before his group chat popped up you assumed. You smiled at the lock screen, a group photo of your team when you went out for dinner your first day on the job. Everyone was drunk and acting silly, but it was a night to remember.

You quickly unlocked your phone, giggling at the home screen. It was of you and Stuart, his goofy smile present on his face. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, having taken them off while you were studying in his room that day. You were pressed to his side, similar to how you were now, licking his face playfully. His words replayed in your mind, him scolding you for such a thing. “Don’t fucking slobber on me, your punk. I will lick you back!” He never followed through, but his reaction made you laugh and fall off his bed.

“Stu,” you said in a sing-song voice. “Let’s selfie!”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Pretty please?”

“No!”

“I will lick you again.”

“Fine.”

You grinned, Stuart turning to your camera, allowing you to take multiple selfies of you both making silly faces. You added a few Snapchat filters for fun, laughing between each photo. The final one was using this flower filter, flowers hover above both your heads and he leaned over, placing a firm kiss to your cheek. It was something Stuart did occasionally before hugging you close to him, constantly thanking you for being there for him. It was his subtle way of showing affection for his best friend and never once did you feel like it was something more. The butterflies in your stomach arose just by being by his side, the friendship between you both making your mood lift easily.

You didn’t like him romantically. It was just friendship.

Stuart stared at the final result, scowling. His tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth, shaking you off his arm to elan back. “Send that to me,” he whispered lowly, biting at his cheek. “It’s cute.”

“Never say that again,” you giggled, leaning back against the couch with him. You did as he asked regardless, tucking your phone away. “The word cute does not fit coming from your mouth.”

“Fuck you.”

“That’s better,” you smiled.

His phone chimed before he could retort, his lips tugging into a smirk. “Time to prove you wrong,” he grinned, opening the chat he had with his friends, effectively titled “404! Group Name Does Not Exist”, which made you giggle. The chat bubbles were popping up quickly, responding the Stuart’s crappy photo of you and him.

[Not a Disney Prince: Omfg Stu has a girlfriend. And she is hot as balls!]

[Memester: He wasn’t joking. This isn’t a drill guys! Stuart Twombly is dating the most beautiful girl in the world]

[Bananas Aren’t Just For Eating: What if he just conned some girl into posing with him?]

[Bananas Aren’t Just For Eating: How can we be sure he’s not playing us?]

[Not a Disney Prince: DON’T RUIN MY DREAM, GREG. OUR BOI IS NO LONGER SINGLE FINALLY.]

[Memester: I’m so proud. Our boi’s getting action finally. Did you fuck her yet?]

[Memester: Like… was she good?]

[Memester: Don’t hold out on us, dude. Deets.]

[Not a Disney Prince: He’s a prude. He’s probably still a virgin LOL]

[Memester: I just want what is best for him! I want him happy, healthy and laid by his hot gf because come on. Stu needs to be laid. And with her? I approve of him losing her virginity finally.]

[Bananas Aren’t Just For Eating: Guys, he’s not a virgin. He lost it in college, remember?]

[Memester: …]

[Not a Disney Prince: Were we drunk when he told us?]

[Bananas Aren’t Just For Eating: Hammered.]

That’s there the chat ended. The phone slipped from Stuart’s hand, his eyes wide with disbelief. His lips parted, ragged breaths escaping. It felt like he was on the verge of a panic attack, his hands shaking. “No, no, no,” he panted, his hands knotted in his hair. The man tugged anxiously at his locks, mumbling to himself, “This can’t be happening. Fuck, no. This can not be happening.”

“Stu, it’s fine,” you whispered, picking up from phone from the ground. You held it out for him, Stuart making no move to take the device from you. “Why not just tell them it’s a misunderstanding? Accidents like this happen. It’s just a miscommunication. Just tell them we aren’t dating. We are just friends.”

“No,” he replied shortly, shaking his head. “I can’t.”

“Can’t? Why not?”

“I can’t,” he breathed, clammy hands rubbing to his jeans. “You just don’t get it. I can’t tell them that. They’re my best friends…”

“Stuart, that doesn’t make sense. Why can’t you tell them?” You pried lightly. You placed your hands on his, his having clasped together in his fit of anxiety.

“I can’t,” he cried quietly. “I can’t lose them.”

“Stu?”

“I’ve never had many friends, Y/N. These are the only friends I have outside of you guys. And I’ve always been the… the nerd of the group. And I can’t imagine what they will say if I tell them I’m still single. It’s just… They’ll unfriend me because I’m just lame. I’m not cool. I’m not manly. I don’t fit in. I’m turning twenty-three soon and I’ve never had a girlfriend while they’ve had plenty. They joke enough that I’ll end up alone but if I tell them they’re wrong, they’ll leave me forever. I just want to fit in with these guys. I want them to know that I can have a beautiful girl too. That I’m capable to dating, not just computer shit. I don’t want them to look down on me because of this. I can’t…”

You frowned, sympathizing with the man. Even if it was a horrible decision, you understood why he was acting this way. You had your fair share of friends leave you for stupid things, especially when it came to not fulfilling their expectations. And Stuart had the extra pressure of being ‘manly’ to them, even if you thought it didn’t matter. Guys were complex and had this need to stand up to their friends views, showing how cool they could be. Stuart wasn’t the most manly man around, but he wanted to fit in with his friends as much as you would want to with friends back home. He was scared of losing the people closest to him, the fear of them making fun of him and leaving him for good for something as stupid as a miscommunication hanging over his head, and you couldn’t argue with that alone.

You sighed, giving him a small hug. Stuart sunk into your hold, massaging his face. “What do I do?”

“I don’t know,” you sighed.

His phone chimed again, both of you staring at the messages that popped up.

[Memester: Isn’t Stu coming home in like… a week?]

[Not a Disney Prince: Oh yeah! HE IS.]

[Bananas Aren’t Just For Eating: So, why doesn’t he bring his girl with him? I’d love to meet her. Any girl that can win Stu’s heart must be awesome.]

[Memester: Greg, as always, makes the best suggestion in the world. I wanna meet her too! We need to meet this girl and find out why she is dating someone so far out of her league!]

[Not a Disney Prince: Hey! That’s our friend, Joe. We are supposed to be happy that he found a girl that is obviously smart, beautiful, and can stand his sarcastic ass for more than five minutes.]

[Memester: I am happy! It’s just… did you see her? Maybe she is a Stuart clone and we don’t know it though? That’s why he got such an awesome girl finally. He held off until he found a perfect female specimen!]

[Not a Disney Prince: STUART TWOMBLY. CAN YOU BRING YOUR GIRL HOME WITH YOU WHEN YOU COME VISIT? WE WANNA GET TO KNOW HER! SHE SEEMS COOL AS FUCK]

[Bananas Aren’t Just For Eating: Why all caps?]

[Not a Disney Prince: Emphasis.]

Stuart pursed his lips, staring at his phone in thought. His head turned to you, leaving you to melt in his orbs. He looked almost like a lost puppy, the liquid caramel color dripping over you. His glasses always made them darker - the color more like honey without them - but they were beautiful. Your heart broke slightly at the lost look he held, a spark of something unknown hiding in his slightly dilated pupils. His tongue ran over his lips, wetting them. He ruffled his hair, the ends sticking up more than before. He wanted to speak, his mouth opening and closing multiple times in an attempt to mold his scattered thoughts into coherent strings of words.

“I think I have an idea,” he finally choked out. “But, you have full right to decline.”

“What is it?” you asked hi, blinking slowly. He laced his fingers together, his foot tapping rapidly to the floor. You could see beads of sweat building on his forehead, a clear sign of his nervousness. You hesitated briefly before reaching forward, taking his hands in yours. “Stuart, you can ask me anything. I’m here to help.”

“Go on a date with me.”

His words were so fast, you were caught off guard. Your mouth opened, closing when nothing but a short croak came out. Stuart cast you a short glance, his eyes pleading with you with inaudible words. Your hands around his tightened subconsciously, letting out a shaky breath. “C-come again?”

“Maybe I should clarify,” he whispered. “Go on a fake date with me. I’m going home in a week. I haven’t seen these guys in months. Y-you can come with me as my… as my fake girlfriend just to show them that they are right. Then, we get back, we can fake break up because we thought it was better to stay friends. Then they won’t pick up on the lie. Everyone’s happy! I just… I’m scared of them finding out the truth and they leave me. So just one small, fake little date, appease my friends, and we can go on with our lives.”

“Why me?” you asked him. His eyes fell to the carpet, pondering for a second before he spoke.

“Because you’re my best friend and I trust you to do this with me. You know me better than anyone and I can’t do this without you.”

You stayed quiet, biting your lip. Something swirled in your gut, the feeling wrenching from side to side. I felt wrong to lie but, at the same time, it felt right to agree. It would just be one night. What harm could it do, right? He was your best friend and he made you happier than ever. Why not make him happy for once?

“Alright,” you finally squeaked, Stuart turning to look at you. “Anything for you, Stu. You are my best friend. You are one of a kind. Besides, how can I say no to a hot nerd like you?” Stuart chuckled, shaking his head. “Tell your friends I’m in. And… come by tonight. We will come up with a game plan for this fake date.”

“You,” he breathed, pulling you into a rare but tight hug. His arms looped around you with ease, crushing you to his chest. “You are a literal angel. What did I do to deserve you?”

“You got stuck with me during the internship and I wouldn’t leave you alone,” you laughed. “We just click, Stu.”

“Yeah,” he said, a small smile on his phone. “I’ll be over around seven tonight, We have a week to prepare. We need to know everything about each other. No holes. My friends will pick up on them and they’re going to want to make sure you are ‘right’ for me.”

“So,” you hummed, nuzzling into his cheek. “Studying!”

“Yeah,” he grimaced, poking at his ear. “Assuming I’m not deaf.”

“Get over it,” you laughed, kissing his cheek. “I’m gonna head back to work. Don’t forget. Studying, tonight, seven sharp. Bring pizza!”

Stuart waved you off, whipping out his phone to reply to his friends. You caught a short glance at his words as you packed your bag, gathering your garbage.

[Tech Lord: She’ll be coming with me because of you losers. Just… don’t scare her away please. She’s too good to lose.]

You smiled to yourself, tossing your stuff and rushing from the room, skirt flowing behind you.

Over the next week, you spent ever waking spare second of the day curled up on your bed in your tiny apartment, boxes of chinese or pizza lining the floor, crumbs covering your sheets from your constant snacking. You had your share of laughs and cries, nose buried in books and notes, practicing until things were perfect.

The first night, Stuart had shown up at seven sharp as promised. His arms were full of books and albums, the man stumbling into your apartment before they fell to the floor. He was determined to have you learn every bit of his life, forming you into the perfect ‘girlfriend’ his friends would approve of. You, too, had gathered materials from your past, wanting to make sure that every base was covered when you confronted his friends that weekend. Your answers needed to match perfectly because one slight slip up would tip them off.

Every night, you would be tested on your knowledge of the other. Likes, dislikes, music taste, college degree, relatives, first pets, allergies. Hell, even awkward things like puberty and first times came up. In those few days, you realized something. In the time you had known Stuart Twombly, the glasses wearing nerd becoming your closest friend in all of San Francisco, you never realized how eerily similar you were. You had similar pasts - bullies, choice of college, family drama. You had the exact same tastes, be it music, food or even movies. You would turn to blasting your favorite songs until your neighbors were banging at the door, letting the tunes relax you while you took turns on flash cards of the others past.

By day four or five, you weren’t sure at this point, Stuart had the bright idea to practice actual relationship gestures. If you were to be his fake girlfriend, you had to show it. His friends knew Stuart wasn’t the type for a lot of PDA, but they would want to see some sort of affection towards your respective other. If you sat stoic side by side in front of them, they would call you out for sure.

Hugs were easy. Stuart didn’t seem like it, but he was a giant teddy bear to you. He liked to cuddle during your movie nights. He hugged you good morning and good night as a normal greeting and goodbye wherever you were. His arm casually found its way around your shoulders when you were sat on the same couch, his nose not buried in his phone and his fingers not typing away on his laptop rapidly. He was used to you in his arms; it was your normal position and everyone knew it. Nick and Billy were always jealous too because Stuart nearly punches them in the gut every time they try to touch him.

The hand holding felt weird at first. It took a while to figure out how to hold his hand properly. One way was too uncomfortable while another would be sweaty. One wasn’t super romantic while one looked like he was ready to drag you to a hotel and ravish your body. When your fingers laced together, fingers tingling from the feeling of his soft skin, things felt right. Your hand fit in his exactly, the lines of your palms matching flawlessly. It surprised you how seamlessly your hands melded together - it’s like they were meant to be clasped together in a tight hold.

The most nerve wracking was practicing kisses. You were used to kissing his cheek playfully but that was it. The thought of kissing your best friend made a shiver run up your spine, your nerves through the roof. And no matter how many times he reassured you that it wouldn’t ever be big kisses - that short, chaste kisses would suffice - you would remain freaking out internally and externally. During practice, you backed out a few times whenever he got close, a wave of panic setting in before his lips could touch yours. A few times, he would be leaning in and his hand slipped from under him, landing in your lap instead of your lips that lead to a round of laughter that lasted ten minutes at a time. When you finally got a kiss out, it was like fireworks explode, your limbs giving away even though you were sitting on the bed. It was beyond perfect, and got better with each short kiss to follow.

The night before your trip to Oakland where Stuart was from, he was staying with you. You were deep in thought as he wandered your apartment in nothing but his usual sweats, making sure everything was ready for the short drive. The entire week, you were debating with yourself. You were feeling odd with the entire situation, and it wasn’t because of the lie you were partaking in.

It was Stuart himself.

Whenever you looked at him, your heart would race. Whenever he did something, your body would heat up. The look in his eyes made you melt inside. But you shook it away regardless. There was no way you were feeling anything for him. Stuart had been your friend since the early days of the Google internship. He was the only person you could bring yourself to talk to due to shyness and you were the only person he could stand to talk to reasonably. He was your best friend and there was no way it was more than that.

Right?

This isn’t a crush, you tried to convince yourself, pushing the butterflies in your stomach out forcibly, shoveling the feelings into a grave to never see the light again. But no matter what you did, a small sliver would slip through again, making you question what was going on. And as you watched the shirtless man walk out of your bathroom, a gentle look in his honey eyes that weren’t shielded by thick black frames for once, you felt your crack once more, a small ounce of fear settled deep inside you, rooted at your core.

He gave you a tender kiss to the forehead before retreating to the living room, collapsing on the couch. The lights went out around you, your mind too preoccupied to let you sleep. You spent hours staring at the wall until you let yourself drift off, asking yourself quietly if you liked Stuart. Stuart was barely able to sleep himself. He stared at the ceiling, his fingers grazing his lips, the touch of yours still lingering more than twenty-four hours later, your last practice kiss being the prior day. His mind raced with thoughts, the man unable to clear them to find the answer he sought.

Neither of you would admit that things were deeper than you thought.

“Hey! Guys!” Stuart yelled to the three guys that were standing in front of the restaurant. Stuart left your side to run towards them, the three guys cheering and meeting the Googler halfway. They were tackled into a tight hug, the foursome letting out incoherent words at each other.

You were running late, the original plan of Stuart hanging with his high school buddies delayed by multiple things. The car wouldn’t start so you left later than you wanted. Stuart had to make a stop by his parents house, leaving you in the car for over and hour before you snuck out, wandering down the street to a local park. His parents didn’t know about this fake dating fiasco and he wanted to keep it that way. It was bad enough lying to his friends. He didn’t want to lie to his parents too just for you to supposedly break up days later.

By the time you were able to meet with his friends, the sky had grown dark, the time nearing seven. Your stomach was growling when you climbed into his car, yet you were elated when he mentioned you would be joining his friends for dinner at this fancy Italian restaurant in town. You were there shortly after, his friends already waiting for your imminent arrival. And the second Stuart was parked, he was running through the parking lot.

Stuart pulled from his hug when you were slowly walking over, shaking his friends off to grab your hand. Your fingers laced together as practiced, Stuart tugging you towards the group of boys. “Y/N, I want to introduce you to my best friends. Joe, Flynn and Greg.” The three guys waves in unison, you returning with your own shortwave. “Guys, this is Y/N. My girlfriend.”

Your smile fell slightly, catching the short stutter in his voice at announcing that, but his friends didn’t seem to catch his short hiccup. They all greeted you happily, pulling you from Stuarts hold to give you tight hugs. Stuart held a sour look on his face, disliking the closeness of his friends on you. The first chance he got, you were tugged back to his side, his arm securely wrapped around his waist. You fidgeted slightly in his hold, nestling closer to him regardless.

“I hate to be the one to ask,” you chimed in, all four sets of eyes turning to you. A red hot blush filled your face, making you nervous. “C-Can we eat now? I’m starving.”

“I like her,” Flynn said, pointing at you. “Get you a girl that can eat.”

“We haven’t even seen her eat,” Greg pointed out, walking towards the restaurant with Flynn by his side. “What is all she eats is salad?”

“Naw. I can tell. She’s a pasta loving girl,” Flynn reassured. “I have this food sense!”

“Sorry about them,” Joe laughed, walking with you and Stuart inside. “They’re stupid.”

“No, they’re nice,” you giggled, Stuart smiling to himself. “But, I really am starving. Don’t expect me to share any breadsticks.”

Joe laughed, nudging Stuart. “She’s a keeper, dude.”

Dinner was slightly awkward. You were able to maintain a proper conversation with the three new en in your life, Stuart chiming in occasionally to back up your words on something. But that was the easy part. Just like Stuart, you got along with his friends easily, understanding why Stuart was as close as he was with them. But it was, once again, Stuart that made your heart rate skyrocket. Your foot tapped against the ground, Stuart’s hand placed on your knee for some unknown reason. The guys couldn’t see it, so it wasn’t necessary. But the familiar heat of his touch bled into your bare knee, making you antsy.

“I don’t get how you can put up with this nerd,” Flynn laughed, handing the waiter his card for payment. You tried to protest, Stuart’s comrades repeating their desire to cover dinner since you had come out to visit. Stuart had moved his hand behind your chair, leaned back as he listened to the conversation. His eyes were glued to the side of you face, watching you laugh at Flynn’s remark.

“I dunno,” you hummed. “We just click I guess.”

“Same,” Joe laughed. “We were the fantastic four in high school, even if no one knew us. We didn’t seem like we fit together, but we were the best of friends. We had all agreed to stick together through thick and thin. Then this fool up and left us.”

“Hey, you can’t blame me!” Stuart protested.

“What happened?” you asked.

“This fool,” Flynn started, pointing a leftover breadstick at Stuart, “decided he was gonna abandon our plan to all go to Stanford because he wanted to go to Berkeley. He had full ride and everything and he gave it up.”

“Really?” you asked. You glanced at Stuart, his face a pale pink. “You gave up Standford for Berkeley? Why would you do that?”

“Better computer science program,” he said with ease. “Not like it mattered anyway. You all ended up at different schools anyway.”

“True,” Greg laughed. “Trust me, none of us were mad that he changed his path. We get it. You go where your heart tells you. We all kept in touch regardless. And we’re glad Stu was able to get where he is now. Google was always his dream after all.”

“You know,” you hummed, looking at Stuart. “I went to Stanford.”

“Oh my God!” Flynn yelled. “You squandered meeting her earlier because of your college choice? I am salty now.”

“It’s just a few years,” Stuart clarified. “Besides, I have her now, guys. That’s all I need.” He placed a kiss to your cheek, making you blush.

“You guys are sickening,” Joe fake gagged, everyone laughing. “But seriously. It’s been nice having you home, even if it’s just for dinner, Stu. We miss you around here.”

“I know, guys. It’s just hard to get away with everything back in San Fran,” he sighed. “Always busy with something.”

“Something. Or someone?” Flynn laughed, giving you both a wink. Stuart flipped him off, your head buried in his shoulder to hide your embarrassment.

“We get it, bro,” Greg reassured. “We’re just glad you’re happy. You have a great job and a great girl to share your life with. It’s nice to see you smile.”

Stuart gave a half-hearted smile, the weight of the lie on his shoulders. Your own frown was hidden, feeling his tense and knowing what he was thinking. I just lied my ass off to my best friends.

Your party headed out to the parking lot, Stuart twirling his keys. “I hate to cut the night early, but we are heading home. It’s been a long day and we have to drive home tomorrow.”

“Aw, come on Stu,” Flynn whined. “We barely get to see you. And it’s barely eight! We have time still!”

“We should hit the bar!” Joe offered. “The Dutch Pot guys? Best drinks in town?”

“Hell yeah!” Flynn and Greg cheered. Stuart frowned.

“I don’t know guys…”

“Come on, Stuart,” the guys pleaded.

“You are barely ever in town. Just a few more hours. That’s all we ask.”

“We just want to spend a little more time with you before you go back to your fancy Google life.”

“Just one drink. Please?”

Stuart looked down at you his eyes asking what his mouth didn’t. You nodded, squeezing his hand that was clasped in yours. “One drink won’t hurt, Stu.”

The man sighed, ruffling his hair. “Fine. One drink.

“One drink!” the guys cheered.

One drink didn’t happen.

It started with a round of shots. The one turned into two. Two turned to four. The four turned into a bottle each, the guys being kind enough to order a margarita since you didn’t care for the taste of their beer. And before you knew it, your small group was beyond buzzed, laughing and chatting happily amongst each other.

You spent time playing random drinking games, drinks being downed left and right. You were even dragged to the dance floor, your body ending up pressed firmly to Stuarts. Your hips grinded against each other, the slight blur pushing all of your skeptical emotions away. His arms were wrapped firmly around you, pulling you taut to him, your sweaty bodies moving in sync. You had unbuttoned his shirt, leaving it flopping open to reveal his dark undershirt, hands running up his torso to his neck. His hands pushed against the small of your back, shirt hiked up around your waist. The skirt you decided to wear rode up whenever you pushed your ass into him, Stuart groaning in your ear.

When the current song ended, you stumbled back to the table, the three guys sitting there with bottles in their hands.

“Have fun?” Greg asked, sipping his drink with a lazy smile. “You looked like you were.”

“It was a lot of fun,” you told him, sitting in your seat. Stuart flopped next to you, pulling you against him.

“You know. It’s weird,” Joe hummed aloud. “The entire night, we haven’t even seen you guys kiss.”

“Are you the non-PDA kind of couple?” Flynn asked.

“I guess you could say that,” you chimed when Stuart didn’t respond.

“Well, break your little code just for once. Give us a kiss guys!” Flynn cheered. You and Stuart shared a glance, shrugging in unison. You leaned forward, placing a short kiss to his lips, the touch tingling. Feel accomplished that you were able to do it so easily, you smiled at him, Stuart returning it. But when you sat back, his friends seemed unimpressed.

“Lame!” Joe whined. “That’s not a kiss!”

“What?” Stuart grumbled. “Of course it was. Maybe you’re facing drunk blindness or something.”

“I can see perfectly!” Joe claimed.

“It was lame,” Greg hiccuped. “Give her a better one!”

“A nice, sloppy, juicy lucy!”

“That’s a sandwich,” you deadpanned.

“You know what I mean!” Flynn cried. “The sloppiest, wettest, most passionate kiss in the world! Do it, guys!”

The guys started chanting ‘do it, do it” repeatedly, the words getting louder every time it circled around. The words kept hitting your ears over and over again, making you nervous. Stuart rubbed your shoulder to calm you, only making it worse. He tried to protest, but the guys weren’t having it.

“Alright!” he finally cut them off. You said nothing, turning in your seat to face Stuart completely. You felt your palms sweat, shifting uncomfortably against the leather booth. Stuart licked his lips slowly, leaning in slowly. Your heart was hammering to your chest, your only thought being Fuck, we didn’t practice this. What if I suck?

But when his lips hit yours, you instantly melted into it, arms moving around his neck. His arms moved to your waist, pulling you closer to him. Your heads tilted in opposite directions, allowing you to get closer. His lips tasted of the bitter liquid he had been consuming, but you didn’t mind. They were still soft, enveloping yours completely in a passionate connection. He didn’t push to go further, but from what you were already doing, the world around you didn’t exist. All that mattered was him and the way he was making you feel. The kiss made your stomach knot and your skin burn.

You craved more.

He pulled away slowly, licking his lips once more. Your eyes fluttered open, your mind racing to figure out when they closed. Your hands were shaking slightly, layers of bewilderment running through your veins. You stared at his face, noting how pink lips that were slightly puckered still, swollen from the single kiss. His eyes were closed, his eyelids fluttering with the movement of his orbs behind them. Your body heated up, ready to lean in again.

Your heart nearly stopped before you did though. You were holding your best friend in such an intimate way, the shrill wolf whistles of his friends cutting through the muffled sounds in your ears, blood flowing quickly in them. You had kissed him and you found yourself wanting more. You admired the way he looked, admitting how handsome he looked. It felt good to have him pressed against you, and it wasn’t in a friendship sense.

It was like the alcohol was gone in a snap, your mind sobered. I think I like Stuart, you told yourself. Maybe it was the alcohol, but the feelings that lingered weren’t the friendship you always told yourself it was. And it scared you.

“Excuse me,” you whispered, not caring that you straddled Stuart to slip from the booth, your chest hitting his face and knocking his glasses into a lopsided position. Stuart finally opened his eyes, going to stand to join you, ready to say something. But you were gone, quick steps caring you towards the bathrooms. Stuart frowned, sitting back in his seat. He was handed a beer, Stuart not hesitating in drinking.

“That was hot,” Flynn grinned, Stuart glaring.

“Fuck off.”

Inside the bathroom, you were hunched over the sink, ignoring the looks of random strangers behind you. Your ragged breathing came out in wispy gasps, tears threatening to spill over the rims of your eyes. You quickly turned on the cold water, ignoring your hours worth of makeup to splash the droplets to your skin.

“Stuart is just my friend,” you tried to tell yourself over and over again. My insane handsome, funny, smart, sarcastic best friend. I kissed my best friend. I can’t like him more than that. It’s just friendship.” You paused, glancing at yourself in the mirror. Your lips still tingled from him, the memory replaying in your mind without end. The more it replayed, the more your heart sped up, your body burning with intensity. “No, no, no. This isn’t happening. He’s Stuart. I-I can’t…”

You thought back on the years of knowing him, from the second you met in the hall for the internship to the days sent in your apartment studying every aspect of your lives. You remembered the joy you felt from him, bewilderment raining over you as you learned everything you had in common. You thought about how comfortable he made you; cuddling in his arms randomly, hanging out and watching tv, hugging him multiple times a day, and even the rare tears he would wipe away from failed dates. He was always there for you, yet the giddy feeling you felt every time was overlooked, written off as the extreme friendship you had instead of romantic emotions. Now that you looked back on it all, you were sure you were wrong, having lied to yourself since the first time he pulled you into his arms willingly for a hug.

“I have a crush on my best friend. Fuck!”

You stayed leaning against the sink for a few more minutes, allowing your breathing to regulate slightly and the tears to cease. You splashed water to your face again, drying it before attempting to apply a quick layer of makeup to hide the redness from your crying. Once you were satisfied, you dropped them back into the bag that hung on your side, taking one more deep breath. You pouted at yourself before shaking your head, slow steps carrying you towards the door. You hand met the handle, one thought crossing your mind. This fake date was the worst decision ever.

You made it back into the center of the bar, spotting the table the guys were at. Not eager to return to the drunken idiots, you wandered towards the bar, thinking to wash down your sorrows in alcohol. Sliding into the empty bar seat, the bartender sent you a smile.

“What’ll it be, sweet cheeks?” he asked.

“Something strong,” you pleaded. The bartender, whose name tag read ‘Thomas’ , nodded, turning to make what you requested. You didn’t watch what he put in it, opting to smile when it was placed in front of you. “How much?”

“On me,” he chuckled. You sent him an odd look, Thomas giving a small smile. “I know boy trouble when I see it.”

“Oh.”

“I saw you run off not too long ago,” he said. You gave him an odd look. “I’ve worked here for a long time, sweetheart. You get used to paying attention to everything.”

“Right…”

“Care to talk about it?”

You hesitated, sipping the drink in front of you. Your face puckered at the bitter taste, shaking it to rid yourself of the strong taste. Thomas chuckled, leaning on the bar. You finally caved after another sip. “I have a crush on my best friend.”

“I don’t see the problem then,” Thomas hummed thoughtfully. “Relationships are best when it’s with your best friend. My mom always told me to be friends first then lovers.”

“But, he’s my best friend. I can’t love my best friend.”

“Well, you seemed pretty loving earlier,” he quipped. “Dancing, kissing, holding hands?”

“Yeah, well, it’s not real,” you pouted. “Its all fake. I agreed to be his fake girlfriend just to show his friends that he was capable of having one. One stupid picture and wrong words made them think that we are dating. It was all a misunderstanding but here I am, pining over my nerdy best friend because he’s just… perfect. He’s so cute. He’s handsome and funny and smart. He’s sarcastic to boot. But we work so well together and I can’t picture myself without him. And it hurts because after tonight, we will go back to being friends. But I don’t know if I want that. How can I possibly go back to how things were after tonight? We were so worried about his friends accepting me and for Stuart to fit in like he wanted, for Stuart to not lose his friends, we didn’t even think about what would happen!”

You weren’t sure why you spilled your guts to him, your heart on your sleeve to this unknown man, but he smiled at your words, taking you hand. “Sweetheart, it’s fine. Things like this happen. And it happens when you least expect it. Sure, this is fake now, but who says that next week it won’t be real?”

“Because he doesn’t like me like that.”

“I doubt that. He looked pretty upset when you ran off,” Thomas claimed. “And it wasn’t the kind of look that says his best friend ran off. It was the kind of look that says the girl he liked ran off.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I guarantee it,” he laughed. “You just can’t give up. Because something good will come from this. Who knows, maybe this isn’t as fake as you think.”

“I doubt that,” you sighed. “But how are you so good at giving relationship advice?”

“Because I was in a similar situation once with my boyfriend, Isaac,” Thomas admitted. “We were ‘dating’ girls so no one would know that we were into each other. But it made us stronger because we realized how good we are for each other. And that was five years ago. We’re still going strong. The fakeness around our relationship made our relationship something we can’t forget.”

“That’s actually really sweet,” you laughed, Thomas smiling. “Thank you. I really needed that.”

“Anytime, sweetheart. You guys are cute together, so I’m rooting for you. I hope you have soe success after this little fake date. Don’t let your feelings be fake, either.”

“Oh, witty, ain’t ya?” you joked, Thomas grinning.

“Isaac loves it.”

You didn’t notice Stuart’s eyes glued to your from from his seat the man slouched deep in the leather booth with his hands in his pockets. His teeth gnawed at his bottom lip, his eyes narrowing when the bartender took your hand in his. He couldn’t hear what you were saying to each other, but his gut wrenched in discomfort from the short action. It twisted even more when he picked up on the faint echo of your laugh over the music, Stuart bouncing unhappily.

You were his fake date for the night. Sure, his friends were drunk off their asses, but that didn’t give you any right to flirt with the bartender, especially in front of him. Watching you smile and laugh hurt, his heart aching. He was pissed, but he was also sad. His fake girlfriend wasn’t by his side. His best friend wasn’t by his side.

He wasn’t going to have it. He stood from the booth quickly, pushing past people quickly. His hand wrapped around you upper arm, your eyes wide as you turned to him. “Can we talk?” he insisted harshly through gritted teeth. You frowned slightly, opening your mouth only to shut it quickly. “Please. Like, right now? It’s important.”

“Stuart, I don’t know,” you started, Stuart tugging you off the seat.

“Just come on,” he growled, tugging you away. Thomas sent you a sad look, giving you a wave. Your drink was left half finished, your body dragged through the crowd by your nerd of a crush. You stumbled behind him, arm beginning to hurt from his hold. His long legs carried him forward quickly, your own strides having difficulting keeping up with him.

“Stu, can you slow down?” you asked, Stuart not answering. “Stu, answer me.” Still nothing. His lack of response made you plant your feet, ripping your arm from his grasp. “Stuart, will you just stop?!”

He turned to you instantly, eyes flaring. Neither of you cared that you were in the middle of the dance floor, drunken idiots dancing around you. “What gave you any right to do that?” he snapped.

“Do what?” you snapped back, not backing down. “Get a drink at the bar?”

“No!” he yelled over the music. “What gave you any right to flirt with the bartender? Especially in front of me!”

“Flirt with the bartender?”

“Yes!” he practically screamed.

“Even if that were true, Stu, you seem to forget that this is a fake date. I’m not your girlfriend. This entire thing is not real!”

“I don’t care!” he hollered. “I can’t sit around watching you do that. It hurts too much to see you flirting with him. I care about you too much to watch it. I watched you run off, worried that I did something wrong, and then this? I can’t stop feeling like… like I’m losing you. I don’t care that this is a fake date! You are my girlfriend and I can’t stand seeing you talking to him. My heart hurts.”

“Stuart…”

He rubbed his lips together, massaging his jaw. “I can’t stop thinking like this, alright? I can’t stop this twisting inside me knowing that you weren’t by my side. You should have been flirting with me. I can’t watch you flirt with someone else when those words should be for me.”

You watched the man, surprise written all over your face. He just admitted that he wanted you to flirt with him instead of the bartender, even if you didn’t do what he thought. Your heart raced, slamming against your chest. Your eyes landed on his lips, admiring how perfectly plump and pink they were. His anger from before seemed to have subsided already, and now he was antsy, shifting between his feet like he wasn’t sure what to do next.

You launched forward, the fakeness of your date no longer weighing on your mind. The only thing you could think about was him. Your lips pressed his, arms wrapping around his neck to hold him close. Stuart didn’t wait to respond, his arms wrapping around your waist. He returned the kiss with the same amount of vigor, enveloping your lips with his. The sound of your lips pulling apart noisily and reconnected was washed out by the pounding music in the air. Your noses brushed together, teeth somewhat clashing whenever you leaned it. Sparks flew everytime you kissed him, your body smoldering hot in his arms. They weren’t fast kisses, but the passion level was out of this world. The taste of the alcohol on his lips mixed with his natural taste made you smile, giving him a flavor all his own. You mind was blank, nothing but him running through it.

The world around you seemed to vanish. The people dancing didn’t exist. The music was silent. The warm air was only because of your connected bodies. In that moment, with your hands on his cheeks and his moving down to grip your ass, nothing else mattered. Just the two of you in the middle of the bar, kissing like your life depended on it.

You stumbled together through the door, Stuart pushing you through the halls towards his room. It was a small apartment his parents continued to pay for for him so when he returned home, he had a place to stay without needed to be with his parents. They occasionally rented out the spare room in the apartment, but currently, it was unoccupied.

In retrospect, you should be glad you were in his apartment now. Alive, at that. You made the worst decision in the world, your common sense dulled by the alcohol allowing Stuart to drive you both home while intoxicated. Not the smartest decision, but your hormones were a bit haywire. He had broken a few speed limits on the way. It was also impressive that he was able to keep the wheel straight in his blurred, drunken vision, your lips pressed to his cheek and your hands running along his body. You tried to give him road head a few times, only managing to get his pants unbuttoned before he would do a sharp turn, your body flung from his lap. He was definitely antsy though with the teasing he got, jittering in his seat as he drove, overly anxious to get home - hence the speeding. You were glad, and surprised, that you weren’t pulled over with the number of traffic laws he had broken in the attempt to get home, and right now, you weren’t regretting the decision.

Tomorrow, you would though. When the hangover sets in and you remembered how you got there, you would probably vow to never drink and drive again.

Right now, your burning body was ready for more, Stuart’s touch making your blood pressure spike with desire. You were backed into the bedroom, your hands attempting to remove each others clothes. You struggled to walk and undress tripping over your own feet when you tried to pull his shirt over his head or he tried to pull and unhook your bra, your shirt left dangling on the doorknob of his bathroom. His pants were sliding down his hips, your skirt left in a heap in the hallway. Your heels clacked as you walked, Stuart bouncing to kicked his own shoes off.

Your kisses had grown messier in the tie between the dance floor and his room, strings of saliva connecting you together whenever he pulled away for air. Your tongues tangled together, his controlling for the most part, wandering your cheeks to memorize the shape and taste. His hands roamed your body as he kissed you, tugging your lip with his teeth. They were swollen from the intensity, the furious kissing making your lips hurt with want.

You bodies spun in an attempt to continue undressing. You were pushing his pants and boxers down eagerly, Stuart finally achieving his goal of unhooking your bra. But the second he pulled it free from your body, he fell back, his pants around his ankles making it hard to move. He let out a noise of surprise, falling back on the bed.

You smiled at him, dipping down to pull his pants from his legs. They were tossed behind you, breaking a lamp on the way, but you weren’t concerned with that. Your eyes narrowed on his exposed cock, licking your lips slowly at it. It was huge - larger than you were used to - with a swollen red tip. It twitched against his stomach, a string of precum connecting the tip to the happy trail of dark hair along his toned stomach. Stuart laid bare on his bed, crooked glasses on his nose as he propped himself up to watch you. He was definitely more handsome than you ever would have admitted, seeing him nude making your arousal rise. He was handsome; a toned stomach and chest, arms flexing under his weight, his giant cock twitching and ready for you, and his face staring down at you, moles lining his cheeks and his honey-caramel eyes turned a dark black. Your panties were soaked, your pussy throbbing and crying for attention.

“Fuck,” Stuart mumbled, watching you back away in nothing back your underwear and heels. You stood carefully, body wobbling from left to right uneasily to remove the heels. Your round breasts bounced with your movements, Stuart letting out raspy heaves. Your nipples were hard and taut, his mouth watering and his fingers itching to wrap around him, tugging at them. He watched you slowly shimmy from the wet panties, you ass exposed to him and your core dripping, juices running down the insides of your legs. “So hot.”

You said nothing to him, straddling him as you climbed atop him, pressing your lips to his in a steamy connection. Your tongues twisted together, swirling in circles, enjoying the taste that came from the other. Your bodies moved so you were properly laying on the bed, your nude bodies flesh against one another. His hands roamed yours as they had been since the kiss at the bar, yours tangling in his hair. Your groins rubbed against each other viciously, making your body shudder with arousal. Your core was throbbing more than before, yelling at you to do something to it.

Your lips left his, dragging down and tugging his lips with it. You kissed along his chest, flicking your tongue against his nipples to make him squirm. His breathing picked up, his eyes watching as red marks were left littering his chest. You continued down his body, licking his ab lines to his cock. You kissed it once before moving back up his body completely, connecting your lips in a sloppy, fast kiss. Your body slid up as you kissed his jawline until your lips left his skin completely, your core hovering over his face.

“Woah,” he breathed, inhaling your scent, his nose nuzzling into your clit. You mewled slightly, your nails clawing at the paint on his walls. His tongue ran through your folds, dipping into your core once before retracting. He let out a content sigh, his hands finding home on your ass. “It smells delicious. You taste even better than you smell. Fuck, I’m drooling, baby. I’m so hungry for you and your delicious pussy. Let me taste you, baby.”

“Please, Stu,” you whimpered, sinking further onto his face. He grunted happily, a low slurping coming from under you. His tongue rant through your folds repeatedly, lapping at your juices constantly. He would dip into your core, swirling circles inside you. He traced your walls, the tip smoothing over the sensitive nerves. It tapped at your g-spot, making you moan loudly. The buzz in your ears got louder, the alcohol that you had consumed making the pleasure even sweeter than normal. Or, maybe that was just him?

He made you feel amazing. He groaned against you, letting out low pants when he licked you harder and faster. He swapped between your core and your clit, spelling his name on the engorged nub and flicking it rapidly. His lips wrapped around your clit, sucking at it vigorously, tugging it with his lips. You moaned louder with each passing second, head falling back as he ravished your lady parts, loving them with extreme intensity. He ripped the moans from your throat, grinning against you.

You looked down at him, his eyes piercing into you. You couldn’t see below his eyes, but they remained unblinking, only closing occasionally to savor your fluids on his tongue. He watched your face contort happily, your breasts bouncing with the subtle thrusts of your hips. Your body shifted against his lips, pressing deeper onto him.

“Stu,” you whined. You could feel his body shuffling under you, your head turning to glance over your shoulder. His hand was wrapped around his cock, jerking it quickly, matching the pace of his mouth and tongue. The precum was smeared over the tip, his fingers wrapped tightly around his shaft as he stroked it. Your body heated up just at the sight, a trail of saliva dripping down your chin that you shamelessly wiped away with your hand. Watching him masturbate while eating you out was a dream you regretted never having because it was beyond sexy to see. “Fuck, Stu.”

You lifted off of him only to spin around, leaning over his body. Your core still pressed to his lips while your own lips replaced his hand. You bobbed along his length, Stuart ceasing his licks long to let out a long grunt. You moaned around him, the noise vibrating his cock. His licks resumed to match your bobs, your bodies moving in sync to please each other. Your nose was buried in the dark hairs at the base of his cock, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. Stuart’s tongue moved to your clit, licking it rigidly until you were a quivering mess.

“I’m gonna cum,” he grunted against your core, sucking at the nub harder than before. You return the favor, tongue running along the vein on the underside of him, sucking his length harshly. His breathing quicken, your own nostrils flaring with increasing breaths. Your core knotted, unraveling quickly in a sea of fire. You were shaking violently, Stuart’s cock twitching against your cheeks. “Fuck, baby. I’m gonna cum.”

You sped up, urging him nonverbally to do as he wished. He let out a straggled grunt, his body convulsing under you. Streams of white, hot cum spilled from the tip, washing down your throat in waves. You swallowed every drop with difficulty, your own body quivering with your orgasm. Stuart let out a pleased nise the second your juices hit his tongue, the man selfishly lapping at every drop you released. He swallowed every last drop, same as you, savoring every second of it.

You pulled away, licking your lips clean of the droplets that escaped. Stuart was panting, his warm breath fanning over your core. Your desire spiked once more, your pussy contracting with want. You licked his tip teasingly, the shaft hardening from the simple action.

“Baby,” he whined, nuzzling his nose into your core. “You’re so wet still. God, you’re so wet. You must still be horny.”

“I am,” you let out in a raspy, seductive voice. You sat up from his cock, your body sliding down until you were situated on his pelvis. Your hips rolled against his, wet core making his shaft more slick than just with your saliva. Stuart grunted. Peering with dark eyes at your backside. “I want more.”

“Ride me,” he said in a husky tone. “Fuck me, baby.”

You smiled, though he couldn’t see it, lifting off his body to align him with your core, sliding down on his cock with a loud moan. Stuart groaned, letting his eyes close, relaxing under the pleasure of your tight pussy around him. You felt goosebumps run up your spine, stilling for a second to feel the pulsating of his cock against your walls, making your blood pump harder.

You circled your hips for a second before shifting forward, his cock sliding free from inside you. He was buried back instantly when you sat back, repeating the process steadily. Stuart moaned this time, his eyes cracking open to watch your ass move against him. Your body moved like a pro, rocking against him expertly. His cock emerged from your pussy soaked to the hilt, disappearing back in your tight hole with ease. Your ass jiggled timely with your motions, Stuart appreciating the way you looked as you rode him.

“You’re so hot, baby,” he gasped out, reaching forward to fondle your ass cheek. He gave it a gentle smack, making you squeal and shift against him. You moved against him faster, leaning farther forward. He coughed slightly at the new feeling, the feeling constricting around him more. “Oh, shit. So tight. You’re so tight.”

“You’re so big,” you whimpered loudly, head falling back, your hair whipping in different directions. Your sped up, Stuart thrusting up to meet your movements. “Oh God, Stuart.”

His fingers traced up your spine, his stomach tightening to keep himself upright. They tangled in your locks, tugging lightly at them. You moaned loudly, letting your head fall back more, Stuart’s tugs getting harder the faster you moved. You were on the verge of screaming, arching more from his touch.

He let go of your hair, arms wrapping around your waist. He sat up completely, your body halting. Stuart kissed along your shoulder blades until he hit your shoulder, sucking and nipping at your neck. You relaxed against him, mindlessly rubbing at your clit to please yourself. Your walls clung around him, making him bite and kiss harder at your neck. His hands moved to your chest, fondling them in the palms. He tweaked the nipples between the tips, tugging at them until they were stiff.

“Stu.”

“What, baby?” he breathed. “Do you like this? You like me playing with your nipples? Or do you wish I was sucking them?” He kissed your neck once, a smile on his face. “God, I do love your tits, baby. So round, so firm. I bet you would moan loudly when I suck on them.” One hand moved down to yours, helping to rub your clit. “Such a dirty girl you are, Y/N.”

“Stuart!”

He pulled you back with him, his back colliding with the bed. You were rolled onto your sides, Stuart’s slithering down your body to lift your leg, slinging it over his waist. His hips snapped into your backside, his arm winding around your waist to keep you close to him. You moaned loudly, head falling back against his shoulder, allowing him to thrust as much as he wanted into you.

His cock hit your g-spot with ease, the arm that had ended up under your head, gripping your breast tightly. His hips bucked against your ass, the slapping sound filling the small apartment bedroom. His cock slid in and out of you without problem, shoving into you relentlessly and rubbing along your walls. You were a moan mess against him, the ecstasy you felt from his powerful, godly thrusts making your stomach coil.

“Stuart,” you whimpered, pushing back against him harder. His thrusts sped up, his head buried into your neck as he pounded into you. His cock pistoned in and out of you quickly, making your body shake with happiness. Your leg bounced against his waist, heel kicking against his ass. His hand squeezed at your breast harder, Stuart never once slowing down.

“Y/N,” he growled, pushing his head into the back of yours. His thrusts were getting sloppier already, his second orgasm obviously approaching fast. “Shit.”

“Stuart, baby,” you gasped out. You took his hand from your chest, bringing it up to your mouth. Two fingers were wrapped by your lips, Stuart’s grunting getting louder. You moaned around the two digits, sucking at them sensually, tongue lavishly circling them. His chest heaved, his sloppy thrusts hitting your backside.

“I’m cumming,” he rasped. “I’m cumming. Fuck, I’m cumming!”

His cock twitched inside you, a loud moan in your ear ringing before he was spilling himself into you. Streams of his seed spewed from the tip into you, his thrusts slowing. The warmth of his orgasm and his seed filling you completely burned the coil that had been building inside you. You moaned around his fingers, your juices washing over him, splattering your walls. His thrusts slowed to ride out your highs, your bodies close together in a thick layer of sweat, heat, arousal and passion.

He pulled out of you slowly, rolling from the bed to stumble on uneasy feet to the bathroom. You heard the rippled of water as you laid in the bed, signalling that he was urinating before cleaning himself off. You ignore the sticky feeling between your legs, bundling in the sheets. Stuart made his way back to the bed, not bothering to get under the covers as he curled into your side.

“I love you,” he mumbled in a slurred voice, the alcohol mixing with his exhaustion. He was out seconds later, a low snore escaping his lips.

You frowned. At this point, you had sobered up, fully aware of everything that had happened between you both. You turned to look at the sleeping man, his eyes fluttering against his cheeks as he slept quietly. Your frown deepened, your heart falling. You wondered if he would remember in the morning what happened and if he would still feel the way he claimed. You wondered if things would remain this way when you returned home, or if they would be awkward, attempting to go back to the way they were.

You knew there was no going back though.

You moved his arm from your waist, sliding out of the bed. You slowly dressed yourself, taking a pillow and blanket to the couch. You sat on it, glancing at the clock before sighing, your head buried in your hand with silent tears.

“I love my best friend. But, this is all fake.”

Things were awkward like you had feared when you returned home.

The drive home was silent the next day, neither of you saying anything about the events in Oakland. You weren’t sure if he remembered, but he never questioned. You assumed he knew, that his words meant nothing; it was the once time that drunken words did not represent sober thoughts. So, you let it go, never once choosing to talk about it.

Your office was filled with an unusual tension, words hardly shared. You didn’t embrace each other like normal and tried to remain on different tasks that didn’t overlap to keep from interaction. You sat on opposite sides of the room, no matter where you were. You couldn’t even spare him a glance without your heart clenching, a wave of sorrow raining over you. Your heart yearned for him, but he wouldn’t return the gesture, no matter how much you hoped.

Neha tried to ask, but you changed the topic every time. You just tried to put up a front, only allowing yourself to cry in solitude at home. You loved him - an unrequited love. You wished he would remember, telling you the same three words as that night. You wished you could forget that night at the same time you wished to remember; the pleasure you felt with him was beyond you, never something you had felt before with any other guy. You had shared the perfect moment but the fake date ruined it.

It was never meant to happen.

You were sure you had ruined your friendship with Stuart Twombly because of a misunderstanding, an agreement, a fake relationship, alcohol and your personal feelings that had developed. The mixture sent your life down a spiral in the toilet, letting it plummet to the ground.

Two weeks had passed since the unspoken night with Stuart, and you had yet to share two words with him. You sat outside alone for lunch, munching on a sandwich as you typed on your laptop in an attempt to finish your current assignment. Your headphones were in, letting the music block out your surroundings.

You heard the seat across from you scratch against the concrete through the music, your eyes darting up to see who it was. You had to double take when you noticed Stuart sitting in the chair, anxiously tapping his foot. He was fidgeting in the seat, obviously nervous and uncomfortable. Carefully removing the earbuds, you cleared your throat, knowing it was dry.

“C-Can I help you, Stuart?”

The man frowned, obviously saddened by the lack of nickname he was used to. His mouth opened to answer, closing when nothing came out. He tried a few times before clearing his throat as well, licking his lips. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“What?”

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said flatly.

“What? No-”

“You’ve been avoiding me because we had sex.” Your face fell, the tears already forming in your eyes. “I’m sorry. We were drunk and I was mad. I-it was emotional and…”

“Just stop, please.”

“No!” he yelled, lowering his voice before speaking again. “I can’t. I’m sorry. But I can’t go on like this anymore. I…” he rubbed his lips together, scratching his chin. “I don’t regret it, alright? It was the best night of my life. And yes, I was drunk. But I remember everything so clearly that happened between us. Up until I… I came in you, I remember everything.”

“Oh,” you said shortly.

“I’m sorry though, alright. The fake date shit should have never happened. I ruined us because of my stupid ego with my friends. And I can’t stand what we have become from it. You’ve been avoiding me because whatever happened between us - it changed us. I feel like I hurt you because of what we did. And I want us to go back.”

“Stuart-”

“I can’t stand this anymore,” he cried, ruffling his hair until it was messy. “I can’t stand not having my best friend in my life.

You frowned. Ouch, was I just friendzoned?

Stuart rubbed his lips together, wetting them often. His mouth was dry and he was struggling to form words. “I-I can’t stand this awkward tension that has formed between us. I can’t stand not having her in my arms all the time, hugging her day in and day out. I can’t stand not being able to call her just because I want to. I can’t stand us not hanging out, watching movies or tv shows and throwing popcorn at each other. I can’t stand not hearing her beautiful voice, whether it’s happy or sad or confused or intrigued. I can’t stand…” he paused slightly, biting his lip. “I can’t stand that I can’t call her mine every day.”

“Stuart.”

“I can’t stand just being friends.” He stopped talking, leaning forward on the table. His hands were together in tight fists, pressed to his lips. His eyes were red and glossy, trying to hold back tears. That made you heart wrench, your own tears ready to spill. He ruffled his hair again, staring at the table instead of at you. “I can’t stand withholding these feelings - my feelings - because I know they won’t be reciprocated.”

You blinked once, taking in his words. You were confused slightly, taking a moment to understand what he was telling you. Your gut bubbled with delight, your body seeming to understand before your mind. You stared at him, Stuart glancing up when he got no response. When it finally clicked, you stood abruptly, leaning forward to kiss him.

But your heads bumped together painfully.

You fell back in the seat, both of you grunting in pain. You rubbed the spot on your forehead, watching Stuart do the same. His eyes met yours, a small laugh finally escaping both of you. The laugh gradually built until you were laughing loudly together, using the table for support.

“So um,” he started, leaning on the table. “All that practice we did kind of went down the drain, eh?”

“Oh, shut it,” you grumbled, kicking him playfully. He grinned, moving to your side of the table, taking your hand.

“Let me at least do this properly then,” he whispered, leaning forward to press his lips to yours. You smiled into the kiss, turning to wrap your arms around his neck. He pulled you closer by the waist, his lips enveloping yours. You felt a familiar spark, your body physically melting into his hold. It wasn’t a steamy connection - just a passionate, slow on, your feelings conveyed with every ounce of will you had. Your lips moved together, heads tilting to let the connection speak for itself.

When he finally pulled away, he smiled, caressing your cheeks with his hands. Your foreheads rested against one another, low breaths escaping your lips.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “The fake date was the worst.”

“It really was,” you giggled.

“But, it showed me how much I like my best friend as more than a best friend.” He smiled, kissing your lips again softly. “It showed me how bad I have it for her because she is the most amazing girl in the world. And I want to prove it by taking her out.”

“Wait, what?” you asked, backing away.

Stuart chuckled, rushing to his bag and pulling out a bag of food labeled ‘Jose’s’. “I had meant to use this as a peace offering to get you to forgive me for what happened. But, I guess now it’ll be my proposal to you.”

“P-proposal?!”

“Not like that!” he sputtered. “I meant like…”

“Stu?”

“Y/N, I want to take you out on a date,” he said full of confidence, holding the bag of tacos out. “I want to take you out on a real date this time, not a fake one. Because I have a crush on my best friend and I want to take her out for a good time to show her how much she means to me.”

You blinked, staring up at him. His face faltered, scared you were about to deny him when you nodded, taking the tacos.

“You have yourself a date, Stuart Twombly,” you told him, standing up. You kissed his lips before grabbing your stuff, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “A real date.” You walked off, leaving the man to silently cheer, fist pumping the air.

Stuart shoved his finger into the doorbell the following Saturday night. He tugged at the collar of his button up, sweating profusely from nervousness. He glanced up at the light above your door, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He took a second to sniff himself, wondering if he smell alright with the new cologne he was wearing. Following up, he pulled out his phone to check his slightly spiked hair and glasses, checking himself over. He prayed he wasn’t overly dressed in a simple button up and dark jeans. He let out shaky breaths, the long wait playing at the back of his mind.

Finally, he heard the lock click, the door tugged open. “Sorry. I was finishing getting ready,” you told him, leaning on the doorframe to slip on your shoes. Stuart didn’t reply, his jaw slack as he stared. “What?”

“You…” he tried to say, swallowing thickly. His Adam’s Apple bobbed up and down, his eyes roaming your body. You were in a black dress that hugged you perfectly with some black flats. You glanced down at yourself, almost worried.

“Do I look bad? Am I overdressed? Should I go change?” You rapidly asked. Stuart shook his head vigorously in response.

“No!” he almost squeaked, his voice cracking. He blushed at the sound, clearing his throat. “You look amazing. Like… beyond beautiful. I was just shocked because you look so good. I mean, you always look good but… I can’t believe I’m going out with you. And I think I’m underdressed now compared to you. We’re just going to dinner at Romano’s so it’s not fancy, but you look spectacular compared to me.”

“Stu,” you cut him off, pushing up on your toes to kiss him softly. “You look fine. Now, let’s go. I’ve been waiting all day for this.”

“Alright,” he chuckled. You shut your door, locking it and dropping your keys in your purse. Stuart held his arm out for you, yours linking through it as he walked you down to his car. He opened the car door for you, allowing you to slide in and get situated before shutting it for you, shuffling to the driver’s seat quickly. The ignition came to life, roaring with a slight hum. “You know, this is going to be hard.”

“What do you mean?” you questioned.

“It’s going to be hard to focus on this date because I can’t keep my eyes off you,” he whispered, tilting his head towards you with a bright smile that was uncommon for him. It was contagious, you own smile spreading on your cheeks. You leaned over the center console, pressing a kiss to his lips that he returned without hesitation. His lips remained puckered as you pulled away, smiling like the goofball he is.

“Now, date please?”

The date had been the best thing you had been on in all your years of dating. He had taken you out for dinner at your favorite restaurant, the two of you chatting like normal throughout the meal. You had agreed on no alcohol, considering what had happened with alcohol last time, opting for water instead. He paid for the meal despite your protests, saying how it was only right for the man to treat his girl to a god meal. That just made you blush.

Following the dinner, he took you to an aquarium on Pier 39. He was shy at first, your hands brushing as you walked through the glass tanks. When he finally gathered the courage to take you hand in his, your fingers lacing like they did when you practiced many weeks ago, you felt at home, nuzzling closer to him as you wandered through the building. Your hands even stayed connected when you stopped to pet the baby sharks and manta rays, Stuart recording the oy on your face with his phone.

On your way back to the car, you dragged him into a photo booth, Stuart almost reluctant at first. The pictures went fast, most being silly photos you would normally do with your selfies together. But you were able to catch him off guard on the last photo, turning him towards you so you could kiss him fully, the man melting into your touch and returning it before the click was heard. You each got a strip, your heart thumping rapidly at the smile he held looking at them.

The final stop was the same hill your team ventured to during your internship after the crazy night at the strip club. You sat at the same table you were at before, Stuart’s arm around your shoulders to keep you close. You head rested on his shoulder, his on top of your head, the two of you in silence as you stared at the night sky and the twinkling lights of San Francisco. After what seemed like forever, he called your name softly, making you look at him. He smiled softly, leaning in until he was kissing you, no words shared.

Just soft kisses in the moonlight to end the night.

The clock hit midnight as he parked in front of your apartment, killing the engine. He turned to you, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel before speaking, “Can I walk you to your door?”

“Do you have to ask?” you giggled. Stuart cracked a ghost of a smile, sliding out of the car to run around the front, opening your door for you. He took you hand, the two of you taking slow steps towards the door. Your hands swung in unison, a silence having formed between you both.

He stopped once you got to the door, both of you turning to face each other. You opened your mouth at the same time he did, neither of you managing to get words out before you started laughing. He rubbing his hand along your arm soothingly, playing with your fingers. “You first.”

“I just wanted to say,” you started, digging your toe into the ground, looking away awkwardly. “Thank you. Thank you for such a wonderful night. I’ve been on a lot of dates through college and even here, and nothing has compared to tonight. This was… this was perfect, Stu. Thank you.”

He chuckled, making you look at him. “You know, you took the words out of my mouth,” he mused. “I was going to thank you for letting me take you out. For giving me a chance after… after the whole fake girlfriend fiasco. I didn’t think I would get a chance like this because my dumbass proposed that whole thing. Then we had sex and I loved it but we fell apart after and I didn’t know how to talk to you about it. So I thought that This crush that had developed would be unrequited. But, when you agreed, I… I was elated, baby.” You blushed at the nickname, Stuart flushing also. “S-sorry. Slipped.”

“You know, you called me that a lot when we had sex.”

“I know,” he hummed. “I liked it a lot.”

You grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck, drawing him closer. “Well, I like hearing you call me baby.”

“You do?” he smirked, pulling you closer by the hips. “Maybe I will have to call you baby more often then.”

“I’d like that,” you whispered, pressing your lips to his. Your eyes closed, his following suit. It was a tender kiss, lips pressing against each other firmly but barely at all at the same time. His lips were soft, slowly dragging along yours as he pulled away. The low smack of your lips disconnecting filled the air, Stuart pressing his lips to yours again. Your fingers tangled in the hair at the base of his neck, making him shiver amidst the kiss.

He pulled away, licking his lips to relish the taste of you, backing away slightly, keeping his hands on your waist. “I should go,” he mumbled. “It’s late.”

“Oh, right,” you replied shortly. “Late, yeah.”

“Thank you again,” he whispered, pecking your lips and pushing your hair behind your ear before pulling away. His hands tucked into his pockets as he backed away down the walkway, give one final smile before he turned to leave.

You tapped your foot for a second, going to unlock your door. You cracked it open, turning back to your date before he made it to the car. “Stu, wait!”

He whipped around, his thick black frames almost flinging off his face from the speed he turned. His eyes lit up, the caramel color making you melt on your feet. His hair billowed softly in the light wind, a toothy smile growing on his cheeks. “Yeah, Y/N?”

“I know it’s late and all, but I was thinking,” you hummed, hugging the jacket he leant you earlier that night closer around your body. “Maybe you’d like to come in for some coffee or tea? You don’t need to rush off just yet.”

Stuart smiled, clicking the lock button on his car so it beeped, signally the alarm was set. He didn’t want to seem too eager as he bounced back up the path towards you. “I’d like that actually.”

You pushed the door open for him, both of you stepping in. The door clicked shut, Stuart helping you take off your jacket. He turned for a single second to hang it up, finding your lips on his when he went to face you again. He returned it instantly, his hands cupping your cheeks, yours back around his neck. The kiss was infinitely messier than the one minutes ago, tongues greedily battling for dominance that he easily won. The smacking sound was louder and more consistent through the entryway to your apartment, Stuart pulling away for small bursts of air before he dipped back in. He easily controlled the kiss, your teeth clashing and your noses brushing even though your heads tilted to give you the best access to his luscious lips.

He pulled away with a short gasp of air, kicking off his shoes as he talked. “Maybe we should take this elsewhere.”

“I know the perfect place,” you told him, taking the front of his shirt in your hands, slipping your flats off before backing into the house towards your bedroom.

You both fell onto your bed, laying on your sides facing each other, engaged in a heated make out session. You played with his hair, moving down to mess with the buttons on his shirt, moaning into the kiss he gave you. His hand had settled on your thigh, playing with the bottom of your dress, flipping it up your waist so he could rub your ass through your underwear. He let out a few breathy moans in the middle of the kiss, shifting to help you push off the button up, leaving him in just a white undershirt. Your legs were tangled together in a heap atop the blankets, keeping you close.

Your hand moved next to the button on his pants, popping them easily and tugging the zipper down right after. Your hand slid into the front of his pants, his breath hitching when your fingers wrapped around his shaft, stroking it slowly. He pulled away to get some air, connecting his lips to yours again, shoving his tongue down your throat, tracing your cheeks to memorize the layout. His hand pushed into the front of your panties, drawing circles to your clit. You squirmed under his touch, your moans vibrating his throat and tongue in your mouth.

He pulled away from the kiss, tugging your hand from his pants after his was pulled from your panties. He sat up, pulling you with him, tugging off his shirt the second he had a chance. Your dress followed, your arms raised so he could lift the black material off your skin. Your breasts fell free, Stuart pushing up on his knees to hover over you as he kissed you for the umpteeth time that night. You were pushing at his pants as he kissed you, his hands finding your chest rather fascinating.

He struggled to kick off his jeans, letting them off over the edge of the bed when they finally hit his ankles. You were both just left in your underwear, Stuart moving to lay you back to the bed. He broke the kiss, his eyes locking with yours before he spoke. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” you breathed, scratching from his shoulders to the back of his head. “And this time, we are both absolutely sober enough to say that.”

“I never thought I’d say it, but thank God for no alcohol in my system,” he chuckled, pulling his glasses off the bridge of his nose, placing them neatly on the side table so they didn’t get damaged while you were getting frisky. The frames were apparently crooked last time. He leaned back on his heels, shuffling from side to side as he pushed his boxers off, allowing his cock to spring free. It slapped his stomach gracefully in all its glory, standing long, hard and proud at attention. It stood straight out for you, your panties growing moist at the sight. “So um…”

“What?” you asked, playing with the tip of his cock. He grunted, feeling it twitch under your touch, throbbing anxiously.

“D-Do we need a condom or anything?”

“I mean,” you blushed, turning to your table. “I have some if you prefer to be extra cautious. But I’m on the pill. And we weren’t that cautious when we had sex in Oakland.”

“W-well that… that was not the best,” he claimed. “We were drunk and I was horny a-and you were hot.”

“I know, Stu. You don’t have to justify it,” you joked. “Just make the decision. Rubber or no rubber?”

“Well, as much as I would prefer without because it feels way better, we should probably be proper adults and use it,” he huffed almost sadly. “We can work our way back into no condoms.”

“Oh. So, we’re going to have sex more than once?” you jabbed at him.

“Well, if I’m any good, you will always want me to sex you,” he laughed, leaving you to slap his chest. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. But, I would like to. You’re just that good and I don’t want to stop anytime soon.”

“Sounds like a good plan to me,” you told him, leaning over to grab the condom. You swear you heard him let out a sigh of relief, glad you had agreed. “What size? Regular? XL? XXL?”

“Do I want to know why you have that many?” he hummed, leaning down to kiss your stomach, working his way to your chest. You moaned at him, finding it hard to concentrate on the boxes in the drawer.

“I’ve had sex with guys before, Stu. And it never hurts to be prepared. But when every guy you meet is different, you have to have something for every occasion.”

“Well,” he said, sucking at your nipple harshly, tugging it with his lips to hear you moan. “Do me a favor,” he continued, sucking red marks to your breast, repeatedly kissing the stiff peak to prolong his words. You were a moaning mess, Stuart’s head nestled between your arms, your arms still outstretched to grab him a rubber package. “Toss those regular and XL ones and buy two more of the XXL because baby, you’re gonna need them with how much I’m going to fuck you.”

“Holy shit, Stu,” you whimpered, falling back on the bed, unable to fulfill the task. He was ravishly attacking your round mounds, licking and sucking at them vehemently. He was happily nipping at the buds, making them taut under his lips. He let out a throaty groan as he kissed at them, swapping between each one with a loud pop.

“I thought I told you to toss those boxes,” he joked, pulling from your chest, leaving you feeling empty. He grabbed the boxes of regular and XL condoms, physically tossing them behind him, making you break out into a fit of laughter. He pulled out the XXL box smirking at you. “Unopened?”

“No one has ever… fit my expectations for them.” Stuart rolled his eyes at your pun, opening the box and pulling out the square packet.

“Never say that again,” he scolded, placing the package between his teeth, he kept it there as he moved down, pulling your panties free from your legs. You spread your legs, two fingers running through your folds. The condom ended up falling onto the bed, his jaw slack. “Fuck, baby. You’re soaked. Are you ready for me?”

“I’ve been ready.”

“What do you want?” he asked seductively, his voice dropping an octave into a husky tone. The two fingers slid into your core, your moan loud.

“Stuart.”

“You want me?” he asked, your head nodding in agreement. “What do you want? You want my cock in you? You want me to please you while I tell you how beautiful you are?” His lips met your clit, lapping at the swollen nub. You back arched, scratching at his scalp with your nails. “You want me to fuck you, baby? You want me to pound you into your mattress until you scream my name? You want me to hold you while I show you just how perfect you are? I’m gonna make you cum, baby. Cum so hard you won’t remember your own name.”

His fingers had curled at this point, your body quivering at his words and touch.. He was able to hit you sweet spot without trying, his trimmed nails scratching along your sensitive walls. His mouth to your clit never slowed down, the man lavishly ravishing it, spelling his name over it like you remembered. He was determined to full the promise making you scream his name, the only thought racing through your mind being his name on replay. As much as you wanted his thick cock inside you tiny pussy, you were loving the way his fingers made you feel. And you knew after tonight, you would have a hard time being around him, the sight of his veiny names reminding you of what he can do.

You might get in trouble a few times because you would probably drag him off to the copy room for a little foreplay. AKA, his fingers and tongue so far up your pussy, you’d be seeing stars the rest of the day. And occasionally his cock, most likely.

“Stuart,” you gasped, aching against your sheets. His free hand reached up your body, fondling your breast firmly, giving it a squeeze to enhance your pleasure. “Oh, God, baby. I’m going to cum. Oh God, I’m going to cum!”

“Cum, baby,” he whispered against your clit, giving it a sloppy kiss. His fingers sped up, the noisy sloshing of your wet core around the digits mixing with your moans and gasps. “I want to taste your sweet juices.”

“Holy shit,” you gasps again. You body spasmed, walls clenching. “Oh, fuck! I’m cumming! Oh, God, I’m cumming! Stuart!” You screamed, violent shakes running through your form. Your juices spilled down his fingers, the digits soaked for a second before they were pulled from you, his tongue replacing them. He slurped at your pussy, drinking every last drop of liquid that you secreted, making sounds of satisfaction as he swallowed.

He pulled away, licking his lips before his arm wiped them dry, the man taking a moment to lick his fingers clean. “You taste delicious,” he quipped happily. He moved to stroke his still hard cock, the precum oozing more. “But, I think I need to be inside your tight little cunt, baby.”

“Fuck, me, Stu,” you pleaded.

You watched with half-lidded eyes as he scrambled to find the condom on the bed, having lost it when he realized how wet you were before. He cursed under his breath, finally cheering when he found it under your leg. He ripped it open with his teeth, rolling the rubber down his length expertly.

He nestled between your legs, leaning down to kiss you, his face softer than earlier. “If I hurt you, tell me to stop.”

“You could never hurt me,” you reassured him, kissing him lightly.

“I know. Just…” he sighed. “I don’t want to risk anything.”

You took his hands in yours, his body almost collapsing on top of you so you could link your fingers together with his. “I trust you and you aren’t risking a thing. I want this, Stu,” you told him.

He smiled softly, taking one hand from yours to align himself with your core, returning it to your hold when he slid in easily. You both moaned simultaneously, Stuart stilling to allow you to adjust. He laid soft kisses to your cheeks, forehead and jawline, finally kissing your lips passionately. Your tongues sensually rubbed against each other, slowly moving your lips together.

His hips shifted back, pulling himself from inside you only to snap back strongly, your moan caught in your throat. His thrusts became steady, speeding up gradually until he was wildly pounding into you. Your hands tightened around his, the hold on his hands keeping you grounded. He pulled from the kiss, his head buried in your neck instead, light kisses applied to it. Your nose buried in the side of his head, kissing at his temple and moaning into his ear.

His hips bucked anxiously, the tip skimming your g-spot with every thrust your legs wound around him, trying to tug him closer, wanting to feel him as go as deep as he could. You could hear his low grunt, feeling him piston himself in you quickly.

“Stuart,” you moaned into his ear, your hips circling against him. He grunting, telling you he was listening, a smile forming on your face. “I want to ride you.”

“Oh fuck,” you heard him rasp, rolling you both over instantly. You sat up against him, Stuart’s eye a dark shade at this point, shielded with layers of lust. “I love you riding me. You’re so hot when my cock is shoved into you, your body bouncing against my cock. Fuck, me baby. Fuck me hard.”

“Maybe I don’t wanna go hard,” you teased, rocking against him slowly. The way his cock slid out of you was slow, the slide back in even more agonizing. He groaned in dissatisfaction, bucking upwards into you. “Want do you wanna do, baby? You want me to go faster? You want me to ride you like a pro again?”

“No,” he let out. His hands found your waist, stopping you from moving. “I’m going to fuck you still.”

His hips bucked upwards quickly, rapidly shoving himself into you. A scream came from your throat, head falling back in pleasure. He hit better angles than before, hitting your g-spot full on. His movements were sloppy and fast, but they were beyond pleasurable, the level of ecstasy you felt through the roof. His cock pistoned into you core without remorse, your bodies colliding in deafening slaps. The sound of skin on skin filled the room, reverberating off the walls of the small bedroom.

“Fuck, Stuart!” you screamed, the man drooling at the sight of you over him. Your breasts bounced with each thrust, his fingers itching to touch them and his mouth watering to taste them. Your eyes were clenched, lips parted for your many moans. His cock was dripping when it slid free from you, the rubber glistening in your juices before sliding back in with ease. It was harder for him to feel aroused due to the condom, but he felt his heart racing and his stomach clenching, his cock pulsing and twitching as he neared his end. It was taking longer than he thought and hoped, but watching your pleased face made him happy and definitely was getting him closer to the orgasm he sought.

His thrusts slowed to a stop, his body pushed up until he was chest to chest with you. Your eyes cracked open, staring at his beautiful orbs, feeling him move your legs around his waist. Your arms moves around him, under his arms so he could keep you upright against him, his hips bucking into you. It wasn’t the hard, powerful thrusts as before. This was more sensual - more connected. He still could hit your sweet spots without trying, your body shaking against him.

“Stu,” you cried, nails raking down his back. Red marks lined his muscled skin, his nails digging into your hips. His steady thrusts into you made your stomach clench, eyes squeezing shut. “Oh god. I’m so close. Faster, baby.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, thrusting a bit faster than before, hips rocking into yours rhythmically. His eyes closed, lips puckering as he began chasing his orgasm, shoving into you as fast and hard as he could muster. He kissed and nipped at your collarbone, finding it harder to concentrate. Your walls were hugging him tightly, the pulsing in his shaft translating to your body. Your hearts beat together, sloppy thrusts an indication of his inevitable orgasm. “I’m cumming baby. Are you cumming?”

“Yes,” you cried shortly, out of breath. “Stuart, baby. I’m cumming,” you whimpered.

“Fuck,” he gasped, moving to kiss you instead. “I love you.”

You were taken aback, barely managing a short, “I love you too” before you were quivering in his arms, pressing your lips to his in a passionate connection. Your juices splattered around him in powerful waves, dripping down the latex around his length. Your toes curled into his back, nails clawing at him harder. Stuart’s body grew warm, the moisture and warmth of your core making his stomach clench. Even through the condom, he felt everything, his cock twitching sporadically. His seed spilled from the tip in squirts of white, filling the small air gap at the end. His groan was muffled by your lips, the knot inside both of you disintegrating. His thrusts slowed to ride out your orgasms, careful not to rip the condom before he pulled out completely.

He lifted you off the bed, still deep inside you, lying you on the bed so he could pull out. He waddled to the bathroom, supporting his condom-covered cock, stripping himself of the rubbed. It was tied off and discarded, Stuart using the bathroom before cleaning himself He returned with a warm, wet cloth, cleaning your thighs and core or your juices and sweat, giving it a light kiss when he was done.

He draped the blankets over you before curling up next to you, his head resting on your chest. Normally after sex, you would want to cuddle into the guy, but this felt more comfortable for some reason. Your hand ran through his soft hair, playing with the ends happily. You always loved his hair, the locks insanely pleasing to run your fingers through. And maybe it was just having his body pressed against yours, holding you securely, that made you comfortable.

You also knew that at some point during the night, you would adjust so you were resting on him instead. It always happens when you cuddled, falling asleep on your bed or his bed during a movie. You find yourself sleeping on his chest, his arms holding you tight.

“You know,” he mumbled sleepily. You glanced at the clock, realizing how late it had gotten. Two hours of sex later, here you were. “I can’t really sleep without my pillow.”

“I know.”

“But,” he continued, nuzzling your chest, kissing the side of your breast. “You make a better pillow I think.”

“You’re such a dork,” you laughed, continuing to pet his head. You knew he was falling asleep quickly, the man able to sleep with ease after sex it seemed. He must have been exhausted from all those thrusts he did. You pussy still aches just thinking about it. “Get some sleep, Stu Boo.”

He mumbled something incoherently, probably acknowledging what your said, He shifted against you, kissing your chest again before saying, “Be my actual girlfriend, Y/N,” he said, voice laced with sleep. “My real girlfriend, not my fake one. I can’t stand the fake shit.”

“Alright. Anything for you, Stu. You are my best friend and you are one of a kind,” you whispered. He turned to look at you, his eyes glazed with sleep. “Besides, how can I say no to a hot nerd like you.”

“I’m your hot nerd,” he whispered back, curling back against you, falling asleep. You smiled at his sleeping face, letting yourself relax on the bed.

“It’s not fake this time,” you told yourself through a yawn. “I fell in love with my best friend. And I don’t regret it.”

As a a subnote, the chat names are KIND OF inspired by friends in my real life. My friend, Joe, is the fucking memelord of our group. And my friend Greg (RIP) had once wired an audrino board to place Stepmania with bananas. It was the best thing to see while in college.

Errthang Tag 2.0: @catcrown21; @parislight; @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone; @savage-stilinski; @honeymoonmuke; @rumoured-whispers; @youshiverwhenyouhearmyname; @caitsymichelle13; @addicttotw; @fox-lau; @xmadwonderland; @kaelyn-lobrutto24; @lobrien; @kal-pal; @espermirror; @nowthisiswaar; @belleknows; @ashpie97; @mixedupsammy; @dylobrienlover; @newtosaur250; @bandsweyhey; @crystals-marie; @livinginadreamersparadise; @tommyswolves; @veronicarapp; @bilesbilinskix; @danathewitchywoman; @thisismexxo; @you-all-have-guns; @soulaura-canavel; @bojabee; @obrienswxlf; @feelingsareharddd; @xoitsjustmexo; @supernaturaltakeover; @suggsmate; @cassiee867; @malia--stilinski; @barryallenplease; @flirtstiles; @bottleoffirewhisky; @jadalecki-jackles; @evansesdust; @everythingthatisrandom; @puppiesarehappiness; @ixlovexpeterxparker; @onlyalittleteenwolfobsessed; @tenseoyong; @jadav5

Want to be tagged? Send as ask! - Bold accounts are ones I cannot tag.

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honeypiehotchner · 5 years

Text

the right someone -- part four

Words: 2,626 (why is this one so short??? Sorry babes!!)

Summary: LOL DRAMA

Warnings: angst...I promise I’ll fix it

~~~

"What is up Atlanta! Have you guys been havin' a good time?" Screams follow Richard's exclamation as Rob works to get his mic stand back to his height. "Alright, well we've got more fun for you today. But first, there's some rules and regulations."

The fans cheer as the impromptu convention song, "Rules and Regulations," begins to play. Rob glances down to the front row briefly, but regrets doing so the moment he does. He only sees Kassie and Samantha, and your purse isn't even in the empty seat. Looks like you're not coming today.

Rob tries not to be disappointed, and changes his attitude rather quickly, turning toward Rich and smiling brightly as the song continues.

Richard notices the small bump in Rob's mood but doesn't mention it. He decides to leave it alone for now, and possibly for the whole day. They've got a lot going on today and Richard doesn't want to upset Rob even more by asking about you.

+++

Back at home, you're grumbling under your breath with your phone up to your ear. You had gotten up this morning and planned to go with Kassie and Samantha, but you ended up getting called into work. One of the theatre companies you work for needed a sketch for a poster today, like the assholes they are, and the head coordinator of the company decided to call you to discuss designs.

You reluctantly picked up the phone, having to apologize to Kassie and Samantha about not being able to go. Thankfully they said they would say hi to Rob for you, and explain everything.

You're hoping to have this stupid sketch done by around noon or so, so then you can drive your car over to the convention. You're still wearing your wristband and everything, so you can get in, it's just a matter of getting away from work.

"Alright, so you want the outline, with the lettering in the middle and--"

"Yes, but--"

You pause and sigh, switching the call to speaker-phone and setting it on the table in front of your sketchbook. You then listen to the long, drawn out explanation of how they want the drawing to look for the billionth time this morning.

You really need coffee if you're going to have to deal with this all day.

After the five-minute-long explanation ends, you can breathe without wanting to growl.

"Okay, I will sketch these up and scan them over to you in a couple hours."

The conversation ends shortly after that, and you resist the urge to throw your phone at the wall.

You grab your eraser and redo the letter you just drew, this time doing it much lighter. Your anger got the best of you a second ago and the letter turned out much darker than the rest.

Your phone buzzes.

>Kas: Rob really misses you :(

You smile sadly, texting her back.

>Have you been able to get ahold of him?? I don't want him to think I didn't want to come ugh

You place your phone down, nervously tapping your pencil against your sketchbook as you wait for an answer. A second later, an answer comes.

>Kas: Not yet. In J2's panel at the moment. R2 just left the stage but they'll be back at the end. Maybe then.

Again, you sigh sadly. You wish you could be there.

>Okay...well I've got sketches to finish so let me get back to that. I'll text you if I can make it later. Maybe we can meet for a late lunch??

>Kas: Hopefully! Gotta go, Jensen just told me to get off my phone lmao

>Lmaooo. What did you tell him?

>Kas: I said "fine, mom." Actually got a laugh outta him. Score.

You laugh quietly, deciding to put your phone down after that. You get up and head to the kitchen, pouring yourself a cup of coffee before heading back to your sketches.

It's going to be a long day.

+++

Two hours later, you've finally finished your sketches. You scan them and send them over to the theatre company, not bothering to wait for a reply.

After the last one sends, you grab your car keys and bolt out the door. You've got two hours before the Richard and Rob photo op -- that Kassie just informed you about half an hour ago -- so you're going to meet Kassie and Samantha for lunch somewhere.

After figuring out where you're meeting for lunch, you get on the interstate and speed for downtown like a woman on a mission. Which really, you are.

Thirty minutes later you're sitting with Kassie and Samantha at Taco Mac, trying to decide what to have for lunch. The three of you are too jittery to eat, but you know you need to.

"Oh, and sis, we never could find Rob earlier," Kassie says sadly.

"We tried looking around backstage, but no one was there. We didn't try the green room because we figured we might get in trouble if we tried walking back there by ourselves," Samantha chuckles lightly.

After you guys order your food and drinks, the conversation continues.

"I hope he doesn't let it upset him too much," You sigh, propping your head up with your hand. "I actually hate work. Today, of all days."

"Well, even if it did, we're gonna be last in line for photos," Samantha says triumphantly, grinning.

You furrow your eyebrows. "Why?"

"Because," She breathes, grinning like a mad woman.

+++

"Robbie! Ready for photo ops?"

Rob glances up from his phone where he was checking his Twitter. Nothing from you. And mostly fans wondering where you are. It did nothing except make him sad, but he can't be sad right now.

"Yeah, I'm ready," He smiles, standing up from the couch.

Richard looks at him warily for a minute but moves on from it.

The two walk side by side toward the photo op area, and it's then that Richard throws an arm over Rob's shoulders.

"I'm sure she'll show up," Richard wants to say, but he stays quiet.

Richard and Rob get through all of the photo ops without any mishaps.

Rob tries not to let his mood drop too much as he sees the last people in line. He sees Kassie and Samantha, but he doesn't see you. But he tries not to be sad. He should have expected it, he guesses.

As Kassie and Samantha make their way over to Rob and Richard, they try not to give everything away. Samantha can't help but grin like an idiot when she and Samantha stay by Richard.

Rob looks confused, especially when Richard, Kassie, and Samantha are telling him to turn around.

Meanwhile, you're standing behind Rob with a grin on your face.

Rob turns around after a few moments of telling him to, and when he sees you, his face splits into a huge grin.

"Heard you missed me," You smile cheekily, stepping closer.

Rob nods, "Guilty."

He pulls you into him, wrapping his arms around your waist. You go with it, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Right as the camera clicks, Rob presses a kiss to your forehead.

After that photo is taken, the five of you take a couple more serious and silly ones, just for fun.

Rich and Rob still have about half an hour before their panel, so the five of you decide to head back to the green room and hang out.

Richard swings his arm around Samantha's shoulders, leaning over to whisper in her ear -- but he can't whisper, so you all heard what he said.

"I'd be careful. The angel missed you."

Samantha goes red, nodding. Her and Misha had become good friends since yesterday, actually. You aren't sure how, but they've somehow developed this brother-sister bond in the span of a day.

And true to Richard's word, the angel did miss Samantha.

"Where the fuck have you been?" Is the first thing we hear when we enter the green room.

Samantha jumps, turning to find Misha standing in front of her with his hands on his hips, looking playfully annoyed. She decides to go along with it and entertain him.

You and Rob break away from everyone and take the love seat on the far left side of the room. Thankfully no one makes a huge deal out of it, but Richard gives you both a knowing look before turning back to the group (Jensen, Jared, Misha, Felicia, etc.).

"So where were you this morning?" Rob asks after you've both settled into the couch.

"Work called me in. One of the companies I work for wanted sketches for an advertising poster and failed to tell me they needed them today," You grumble out, rolling your eyes. Rob chuckles a little at your annoyed face and tone. "But it's fine. The important thing is I got them done, and still had time to come here," You smile brightly.

He smiles back, unable to help it. "That is the definite upside."

A few minutes later, Rich and Rob's handler comes in to tell them they've got five minutes left, and that they probably should start walking now.

"I guess that's my cue," Rob smiles, sighing as he pats his hands on his legs before standing. "You'll be in the audience?"

You nod. "Front and center. Might even ask a question."

His eyes go wide for a second, but he doesn't have the opportunity to answer you because Rich grabs his arm and drags him away. Apparently, the band is already starting to play them on.

"So things are okay?"

You turn to see an expectant looking Felicia, Samantha, and Kassie, though the latter is who spoke a second ago.

You nod, smiling because you can't help it. "Things are good."

The four of you walk together to the conference room. You and your two friends sit back in your original seats while Felicia goes to stand on the side of the stage with some of the cast.

As you're settling into your seats, Rob and Rich run onstage, and screaming erupts from the crowd. It makes you jump because of how sudden it was, but then you start screaming along.

Rob's eyes immediately fall upon the front row where you're sitting. He grins and waves, but the moment only lasts a second before he's thanking the band and jumping into the panel.

You smile watching him onstage, wondering how in the world you got so caught up in this man in a matter of two days. It's crazy to think because a few weeks ago, you would've never done something like this. Your guard was so high, and then what happened? Rob happened, you guess. That's the only actual explanation.

You actually don't get up to ask a question in fear that Richard Speight would be the asshole that he is and drag you onstage. So you stay in your seat and let Samantha ask a question, which is one she asks everyone at any convention she goes to: what socks are you wearing?

Rob looks utterly confused when he hears her ask that, and it makes you laugh loudly when he looks to you for help. You shake your head, wanting him to answer anyway. You'll have to tell him it's an inside joke between the three of you later. Not today, though. His confusion is priceless.

The panel is crashed by Jared at one point, even though he has a flight to catch in about an hour or so to head back to Vancouver for filming. He came onstage to say his goodbyes and joke around with Rob and Rich before Jensen called to yell, "Dude! If you're not on the plane I'm telling them to leave you!"

Jared leaves after that, waving to everyone. Misha and Felicia are still standing side stage that you can see, but everyone else seems to have left to catch flights home.

It's then when the thought hits you again.

Rob's leaving after this panel. He might stick around for another hour or two, but he's leaving. This isn't the place he calls home. He's leaving.

You close your eyes and sigh, leaning back in your chair. You're so goddamn stupid. You knew he was leaving, so why did you let yourself come today? All it did was get you even more enthralled by him, and now you're attached. You're an idiot. A huge, straight-up idiot.

As soon as the panel ends, Rob has to go finish signing autographs from earlier, and as soon as you find this out, you know it's your escape.

"I'm gonna go," You say warily, knowing Samantha and Kassie will protest.

They do.

"What? Why? Aren't you gonna say bye to Rob?"

You shake your head. "I can't...I really-- Tell him I said bye, please? And that I'll miss him."

"I can give him your number," Samantha offers.

"Thanks," You smile, shaking your head. "But please don't."

Kassie smiles sadly. "You're running again."

"It's what I do best," You mumble, shrugging. You blink rapidly, fighting back the tears stinging at the back of your eyes. "I don't know why I thought I could--"

"It's okay," Kassie pulls you into a hug, rubbing comforting circles on your back. "You'll be okay. Go get some sleep."

"I feel like all I do is sleep," You laugh, stepping away from the hug and wiping under your eyes.

She shrugs. "You've been through a lot, so it's fine. You need the sleep."

You nod. "I'll see you guys at home."

"See you," They both wave, giving you big hugs before you nearly sprint toward the exit doors.

+++

The elevator doors are about to close when someone else steps in. Your heart drops, willing it to not be who you think, but it isn't. It's someone worse.

"So you're running away. Doing the great escape. Didn't plan it, did ya?"

"Rich, leave me alone," You mumble, leaning against the wall as the doors close. The elevator jerks gently as it begins going down to the first floor.

"You didn't even say bye," He sounds hurt.

"Didn't know I was obligated to," You respond quickly, wanting the elevator to go faster.

"You're not. Just think it's odd that you aren't."

"Well I'm an odd person, so," You shrug, cursing as the doors open on the third floor. It's a huge crowd of people, though, so of course they say they'll wait for the next one. Bastards.

"You're really gonna hurt Rob doing this," Rich starts as the doors close again.

"Look, I know you're his best friend, but I don't need you guilt tripping me right now," You raise both eyebrows, hoping to get your point across.

"Fine. I won't. But I just wanna know why you're not--"

"I barely know him, Rich! I barely know you!" I gesture wildly. "I barely know anyone at this convention and it's insane to me how people think Rob and I are supposed to be attached at the hip!"

"Because you have been, okay? You have been since the first moment you met and you're both too dumb to realize that you're in--"

"In what, Richard?" You nearly yell from the frustration. "I barely know him. He barely knows me. We're not in love. We're not dating. We're nothing but two people who happened to become friends at a convention." You pause as the elevator doors open on the first floor. You step out, turning to glare at him. "So I'm sorry you think I'm suddenly supposed to make out with him. I'm not." You pause, the doors starting to close. "Goodnight. Be sure to tell Rob how evil I am." I know you will.

~~~

Tags: @itsfunnierin-enochian @sirraxa @sherlockedtash88 @shanghai88 @natasha-cole @familybusinesswritingbro @lullabylike Let me know if you want to be tagged!

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megamegaturtle · 6 years

Text

gorgeous (chapter two)

Spencer Reid x Reader Fic

warning: friendships be forming with extra cuteness and realness.

(i will never post a chapter at a reasonable hour, i swear lol)

part one

(Ao3)

WC: 11.K

Summary: You’re early for your first day at work, but the universe is a funny thing where butterfly wings cause hurricanes from a wing’s single flutter. A story about how you and Spencer become friends and one day lovers.

tag list: @everyday-imfangirling @gigiree

Your story is starting, a new beginning with a new friend, when your doorbell rings on a quiet Saturday morning. A butterfly swarm wreaks havoc in your stomach, anxiety and nerves old friends you thought you forgot, but find you again with a little knock knock. You take a deep breath as you stuff your feet into house slippers. It’s too late now to cancel and fake sick.

Coming towards your door, you pause and fluff your hair in the mirror, trying to look presentable and clean one last time. You look through the peephole, the moment of truth wrapped wearing purple and a long brown coat. Doctor Spencer Reid rocks on the balls of his feet and you promise yourself not to throw up.

(You really want to throw up.)

Pressing the passcode into your alarm, the device happily beeps as you undo the chain latch and unlock both deadbolts. You pluck a bright smile to wear.

“Hey! Hi, hello—” oh dear, you’ve greeted him three times, might as well continue. “Hola, uh, ni-hao, hmmm, aloha, howdy, ohayou, bonjour—and yeah, welcome to my humble abode.”

A small smile rests on Spencer’s mouth, laughter at the edges. “Hi.”

You open the door wider and let him walk past you. Last second you snag the strap of his messenger bag unexpectedly, pulling him to a quick stop. Your nails briefly scrap the fabric of his coat before you shut the door behind you both.

You’re doing great, you tell yourself. A for effort.

A moment ticks before you point down at his feet, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Sorry. I have a no shoe policy.” Shuffling around him, you open a small cabinet and pull out a thing of slippers. “You can wear these if you’d like. They’re new! Or socks are fine, but no shoes please. Too much grime and stuff.”

Doctor Reid nods, mildly curious but nevertheless, sits down on your bench and pulls off his shoes. You notice his mismatched socks, deep purple and ruby red. You giggle and find them to be a good omen.

Spencer shoots you a brief look. “Yes, yes. They’re not matching, but I like them.”

Tension rolls out of you as you quickly redo your door and reset the alarm. “No, it’s cute. I hardly wear matching socks myself.”

“Oh?”

“Mainly because I’m very lazy to match them up together again though.”

“Well,” you hear him say, “I do mine for a bit of luck.”

You laugh again and gesture towards the kitchen.

“I guess today’s gonna be your lucky day.”

(Or maybe it’s yours since you’re so excited to have company with someone so cute.)

“You’re doing the recipe completely out of order.”

“Not completely out of order,” you say as you whisk the dry ingredients together. “Just...slightly out of order.”

You don’t bother looking up at Spencer, but you can feel his frustration roll off him like hot waves filling every inch of your kitchen. You do your best not to snicker at his expense as he reads to you the banana bread recipe once again that he’s already memorized perfectly.

“If you just set up everything before you started kind of mixing, this would have been a lot easier,” he chides, mashing ripe bananas into a bowl.

“Says the man with two perfectly good hands!” You shoot him a look, huffing incredulously.

“That I am using,” he points out.

If would have known you that a year ago that you’d have Dr. Spencer Reid in your kitchen making banana bread, you would have laughed so hard you would’ve cried. But here you are doing exactly that with you both talking. There is bickering and bantering. And your kitchen is filled with such delicious laughter that you might weep.

If only you got the courage to be his friend ages ago, just think how many more baking days the two of you could have shared. If only, if only.

“What are you anyway? Some kind of scientist or something?” you say, cracking the eggs in a small bowl.

Spencer’s face falls completely flat, but his tone only bubbles into annoyance as you flick flour his way. “Well, yes! I’m a doctor! And a bit of a scientist, I guess!” His hands fly up in the air, accidently knocking into a pot that hangs above your small center island.

You burst out laughing. “Chillax, my dude! Please don’t go breaking my kitchen,” you say between deep laughs. “I want my security deposit back.”

Spencer taps the counter with displeasure. “Then please just follow the recipe. This is like watching a bad chemistry experiment. Baking is a science,” he emphasizes.

You click your tongue. “Nerd.”

“Am not.”

“Um, are too,” you reply as you wipe a random spill. “Besides, baking is about love and love is more than some chemicals in your brain. It’s magic and all that stuff. And no facts you got tucked up in that noggin of yours is going to tell me otherwise.”

Reid takes a deep breath and chuckles quietly. “Are you always this...sassy?”

You flash him a quick grin. “Always.”

You grab the butter from the freezer and slice ¾ a cup to soften in the microwave as the kitchen quietens to the happy hum of radioactive waves. You look over up again, noticing Reid holding his chin in his hand, staring at you.

It’s a bit intense. The way he’s looking at all of you in your movements. His eyes pierce through you, catch your breath. It’s like you’re pinned under a microscope, chest ripped open with your soul exposed.

“Hey, don’t know if you know this, dear Doctor,” you try to joke, “but this is a no profiling zone.”

Spencer blinks once and denies it, his voice going an octave higher. “I wasn’t—I wasn’t profiling, I was thinking. Vast difference.”

You scoff, playfully rolling your eyes. “Oh no, believe me. I heard you thinking. I think everyone in the greater D.C. area heard you thinking, but,” you pause, grabbing both the white and brown sugar from across the island. “But I know exactly what you were doing and I don’t need you to profile me in my own home.”

Spencer remains quiet, a silly grin digging into his cheeks at your indignation. You huff once more and accidentally put the mixer on high in the dry ingredients bowl. Your surprised yelp is drown out by the sound of the beaters hitting the blow and Spencer’s laughter.

Flour, thankfully, is only slightly everywhere.

Your face runs hot as you turn it off.

“You're so stupid…” you mumble. “Shouldn't have invited you over.”

He takes a big gulp of air, but happiness still paints his face with a smidge of curiosity. “Why did you invite me over? Not that I mind helping you bake, but…” he shrugs.

You...merr. As you call it, not a grr or a groan, but your distress sound of merr that conveys all negative and embarrassing things in one small and concise phrase.

Spencer senses your discomfort and everything shifts to the unspoken words that the two of you haven't dared exchanged. He patiently waits as he leans against a counter and sips a glass of water. The only sound in the kitchen is the slight scraping of metal on metal as you whisk the dry ingredients again.

“Because I am sick of bad thought spirals,” you confess. “I'm sick of doubting myself and not being a good person and just--it’s dumb. I'm dumb. The whole time so like...fuck thought spirals where I don't think I'm good enough to be your friend.” You pause, you heart thumping in your chest and you—

— promised yourself that when you doubt yourself, that you’ll just dive head first, be impulsive because when you stop thinking, just for one moment, things go better than you’d ever assume. Your brain is your own worst enemy. So, you keep that racing heart and you clutch it tight. You feel your stomach twist and you don’t care anymore because you are taking a stand and this is your day and you

—are in control.

(Even if your brain tells you otherwise, if it tries to break you down again, make you stop talking, make you push all your fears into that little black box that sits at the bottom of your spine and let history repeat again and again.)

Butterfly wings cause hurricanes and you’re breaking down barriers with the wind at your back, wings jutting through your shoulders to carry yourself higher. No safety, just free falling into the moment, into this next commitment because you can’t turn back time.

“So, yeah. Fuck that nonsense. I’m gonna be your friend and I’m gonna friend you so hard and you’re just gonna have to deal with it.”

(You remember the triangle your therapist drew for you one day, about how bad thoughts consume you and you just sat there thinking you needed to break it. That you were stronger than arbitrary shapes that attempted to define you.

That you were good enough.)

You force yourself to look Spencer in the eye, well aware his brain is going into overdrive at what you said. How could it not? There was so much to unpack. Low self-esteem, self-hatred, wobbly self-worth.

But you will not falter. He will not forget your promise and you will not let yourself break it.

But he does the doctor thing and asks. “Are there good thought spirals? Is this a good thought spiral?”

He smiles small yet sincere and joy radiates from the center of your stomach, tender blooms unfurling in your bloodstream as relief sings throughout you. Your nose burns with intense emotion, your eyes wanting to shed tears, but you don’t want to be a crybaby in front of him.

You turn and wipe at your eye, ready to cream the butter and sugar together. “No, this is a good action spiral. Kicking down doors kind of thing.”

“Sounds intense.”

“I’m kind of an intense person,” you quip.

“I figured. I kinda profiled that about you,” he teases.

You throw a dishrag at him, the worries you had disappearing as you hear his laughter mix with yours. Being impulsive has proven once again to be your aid.

He comes to stand beside you, a good distance between the two of you but there is a connection and a comfort there now. You two are no longer separated by your center island, but are now standing on the same side of the room. He waits patiently as you cream the sugar and butter.

“Hey,” he starts, “by the way, don’t think that I’m not gonna—what was it?— friend you hard too,” he softly confesses.

You beam so wide the apples of your cheeks scrunch your eyes. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You quietly finish mixing the rest of the ingredients as Spencer beings washing a few assorted utensils. Soft music plays from your phone, your hums sometimes in time with a tune. Butterfly wings brush against your heart as you both work throws this friendly new beginning.

You fill both pans halfway with batter and pop them in the oven. Setting the timer, you glance over at your cozy living room area.

If this was a different kind of social call, you’d suggest watching something on Netflix. Throw in a perfect excuse to cuddle close and test boundaries to see how much you could get away with. But you refuse your heart the luxury of daydreaming something more passionate and most likely to be a plot from a nameless romance blurring in your memories.

Instead, you focus on reality, on being a better person than you were yesterday. You promised yourself you’d be more open—make this friendship happen because deep in your bones, you have this feeling that having Spencer Reid in your life will be worth it.

You take a deep breath and catch his attention. A nervous smile paints your face as you gesture towards the other side of your apartment. “C’mon. I wanna show you something.”

Spencer tilts his head with curiosity, but his steps pad quietly on your floor as you creak the second bedroom’s door.

“Excuse the mess,” you say, flicking on the bright overhead light.

Fresh paint perfumes the room. Canvases line the wall, stacked neatly by a lone bookshelf jam packed with art books and an old, beloved chair. A plastic tarp rests in the center, an easel propped up with a wet piece.

You hear Spencer gasp, his attention fixed intensity on the portrait you’re still painting. Your heart flutters as you wait for him to speak.

(You think it funny, that for someone so filled with words, art makes him speechless.)

“Wow, —” he says, your name soft in his mouth. “I didn’t—didn’t know you could paint!” He rushes, his words starting to fumble. “It’s—she’s so beautiful. Who is that?”

Love blossoms throughout you as you take a step forward and trace the rough edges of the canvas with your fingers. Luminous dark skin and a tender smile fill your vision, the ghost of laughter ringing in your ears. Her eyes twinkle at a joke you told her, this painting a representation of a candid photo you took earlier in the year.

“My soulmate,” you explain with affection. “A girl named Rosa, who I love absolutely without conditions.”

Spencer doesn’t say anything for a few moments, as if choosing his words carefully. He stands near your, his questions wrapping around you almost like a physical thing. “...what’s that like? For you to sound so sure?”

You think of late night conversations and exchanged e-mails, the calm that follows that if you need her, she’ll be there. In the trust of free falling without a parachute that she would defy gravity for a single moment to ensure your safety—that you would do the same. It’s—

“--never to be obligated to love someone, that I love her simply because she exists and there is peace in that. She is—She is my other half: my thoughts easy for her to untangle, the two of us on a shared frequency I’ve never had with someone else. We have no expectations of each other, just the hope to be lifelong companions and beloved friends.”

“Just hope?”

His unspoken question: is that truly enough? There is doubt in pause, his avenue unexplored by him and many others. To just love a friend as an extension of yourself and not want more.

You glance up at him and smile. “Of course. Just hope. Can’t make Rosa stay in my life nor can she do the same to me. We don’t cling to each other, Doctor. We just choose to exist with each other,” you say. “Rosa is—Rosa is not someone who I love romantically—that...that has requirements.”

Spencer reaches out and touches the edge of the painting. “Like what?”

“Mmmm. Well, I have to be sexually attracted to that person, for one. And that person needs to pay attention to me and spend time with me. That person has to have similar values as me, same wants to build a life together with me. This person just won’t be my soulmate and I’m not looking to fall in love with a soulmate,” you add with a small laugh. “Rosa is my carbon copy and I’m looking for someone to compliment me, make me a better person, challenge me—well, you get the picture, I think.”

(You thought you found that person already, already had two greatest loves of your life, but that—that, of course, never happened.)

The room falls quiet and you swallow, realizing you just—emotional dumped all over the good doctor and horror washes over you. You turn to him, your eyes wide and panicked, your hand flying to your mouth.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry, that was like—extremely personal and a lot to handle and—”

Spencer blinks before grinning, his hands tucked into his pockets. “No, it was...nice. You really love her and...and I don’t know, that sounds nice, to love someone without conditions.”

His eyes gaze away, as if he’s looking for something in the distance and your heart feels heavy in your chest. There is a bittersweet softness there and you wonder if his mind drifts away to someone else.

“Can I—” you try to say. “Was it—?”

—like how I love? you want to ask, but you don’t. The question too personal on your lips, but you know he’s heard it anyway.

Hazel eyes flicker to yours, a haunting smile hanging to his lips. “Maybe a bit of both, by your definition.”

“That’s still beautiful.”

“Is it?”

“I think so,” you say, guiding him back to the kitchen. “Love is like beauty; in the heart of the beholder.”

“You know it doesn't go that way,” Spencer’s voice says behind you.

You grin. “True, but do you want your heart to be constricted by other people or do you want to decide for yourself?”

It is quiet for a moment, the sounds of the oven the only thing making noise.

“What if I never move on? What if I never want to move on?”

You take a deep breath, choosing your words with care. “I think...I think if you feel that your love with Maeve is able to sustain you for the rest of your life, that's awesome. Breathtaking even. To be that devoted to someone even through…” you swallow, bracing yourself to mention the elephant in the room, “death. But,” you pause, “life continues, Spencer. It just depends on how you want to interact with it. I know for me, I need that kind of love in my life and I have a big enough heart to fall in love again. Yours seems to be a bit different.”

Spencer’s face pulls into a tight smile. “I always seen to be a bit different.”

“Different is good though. It’s human to be unique, or rather, it’s American to be an individual. You are only a byproduct of your nation,” you say, cheeriness in your voice. “And as for love, whatever makes you happy, Spence—-er,” you quickly add, feeling your eyes going wide at almost calling him his nickname. “Only you get to decided that, Spencer,” you emphasize the er .

The corners of his mouth relax and his smile becomes more genuine. “Thank you, ——,” he says, your name only adding to the moment of friendship. “I appreciate it.”

“Anytime, Doctor. I’m always here.”

And if there is one moment you can keep from today, it will be this one. Where sunshine streams through the window and outlines Spencer in a glorious halo. He smiles once more, wonderful and bright, like starlight and good things and trust for new beginnings.

“I know.”

You get lost in D.C. on weekends when work isn’t busy. There are sights to see, history under cobblestoned streets and your breath finds reason to stop ceasing. It’s beautiful, to be in your nation’s capital, but sad to discover all on your own.

When not exploring, you call Rosa, missing her company more than anyone from back home.

Sometimes you leave her long and detailed voicemails retelling your day. You might leave two or three because you have so much to say. Yet sometimes, there are no voicemails to leave, not when she picks up on the very first ring.

Her voice is soft and sweet, mousey and kind. “Hello, bestie?”

She always answers like it’s a question, like she can’t believe that you’re actually calling.

(You call on a schedule. You’re predictable this way and yet, after all these years, she still finds magic in your friendship, like you’re not quite all there.)

You squeal at her voice. “Rosa! I misses you!”

Her laugh bells gloriously. “I misses you too. How are you? Did you eat?”

“Yes, mom. I ate. I’m good. Just chilling at home. It’s—lonely, truth be told.”

“Mmmm,” she hums. “You’re always a bit lonely it seems. But you’re making friends! Like with Dr. Reid and Penelope! And Derek!”

“Yeah, I am... I guess, just,” you say, your voice quieter as your trace your feelings on your thigh. “Lonely. I think I’m always a little lonely.”

“That’s because your heart is too big for your chest.”

“Are you saying I’m the opposite of the Grinch?” you joke.

“Of course! That’s why I love you.”

She says it so effortlessly, like listing a fact. Which it is. Rosa wouldn’t be your soulmate if she didn’t love you You can’t help but smile fondly at the way she boldly declares it.

“I love you too. When will you become a real doctor and become my sugar mama?”

“Maybe after I pay off my student loans,” she chuckles. She pauses and you can sense her question. “Have you...have you thought about dating again?”

You suck in a breath. “Dating is hard...I wouldn’t even know where to start...”

“Oh, where’s my lion girl?” she chides. “You’re always so brave and yet you’re gonna run away again. Last time you ran away, you weren’t able to make a friend for two years, right?”

Rosa might wax lyrical poetry to you often, but apparently tonight’s not the night for her endless praises.

(She tells you what you need to hear despite that it’s not always wanted.)

“....okay, rude. And I don’t know! Dating means being vulnerable and how am I supposed to open myself up to a complete stranger again. Every boy I’ve ever dated has been a friend.”

She clicks her tongue, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Why don’t you date a boy at work then? Aren’t you friends with them?”

“Rosa, you’re like the smartest person I know, but that is the stupidest thing you’ve ever said. Date a boy at work, she says. Like there are boys for me to date at work.”

“Well, I think there is one man you could date—-”

Your heart speeds up and you know exactly where this is going to go. It’s filed under “do not think about” for a reason.

“Oh, what’s that, Rosa?” you say. “Your patient is calling you? I’m going through a tunnel? Oh no! I can’t hear you--bleh!”

You hang up and toss your phone across the couch. Your heart is still racing as her text message comes through.

Think about it, dear. You know you want to .

“Ha, how wrong you are, my dear,” you say as you type back your reply.

(But not really. Rosa is hardly ever wrong about you.)

“Thanks for coming with me tonight, Penelope.”

The moon hangs fat in the sky as you pull out of the parking lot. Your cheeks are still cold, but your belly is full from delicious hot pot. You think of home and your friends who would go out late to eat shabu shabu. You’re glad you gotta do it again here.

Penelope giggles and rubs her hands together to create some heat, waiting for the car’s heater to kick in. A part of you wishes that you opted for the model with heated seats, but Penelope doesn’t seem to mind, her mittens jiggling with little bells.

“No, thank you , Miss Speed Racer! Tonight has been mind blowing. From an all-woman car meet to hot pot? I don’t think I’ve had hot pot? It's so delicious! Cooking all the meat, or my case tofu, and veggies. Like soup fondue!”

You grin and pull out of the parking lot, enjoying the way streetlights filter through the windshield. Like a little meteor shower as you go by each one just for you. Make a wish and see if it comes true , you loftily think.

“Haha. It is a lot like soup fondue! But it's just a fun thing to do and the girls were so lovely. I'm glad there is a woman car community in D.C.!”

“And what was that thing you were talking about the girl with pink in her hair? Something like tashi? ” Penelope asks.

“Itasha,” you state. “It means ‘painful car’ as in painful to look at or to your wallet. It's wrapping your car with vinyl mostly these days with anime or video game characters. Dudes are more into it than ladies, but it’s really cool driving around in a customizable car, I think! I would want more like Japanese pop-culture art on my car such as acid bears or something more than a hot anime girl, ya know?”

It’s part of the reason you bought a Japanese sports car. Itasha . Despite that it can look silly, a part of you would love to have a Kingdom Hearts dedicated wrap or something bright like Fruits Basket.

Penelope laughs and the sound warms your soul. It’s sweet, her ability to be completely expressive. “You really are a weeb, aren’t you?”

“Oh yeah. I am, but it’s just for fun. I like the pretty colors and cool fantastical stories and stuff. The way they just—blindly do the impossible and create worlds that are based on the impossible alone. That’s amazing and so, so hopeful…is that wrong?”

“No, no. It’s just—I didn’t realize you really liked Japanese pop culture so much or that you were so knowledgeable about it.”

“One of my capstone projects in college was about the American otaku community,” you say with a laugh. If only that version of you could see where you are now. Then you had wanted to be a diplomat and now you work for the FBI. Go figure. “It was for a class about fandom. Which, I must add, was a heckin’ blast.. So yeah, I might know a thing or two when it comes to trends and stuff,” you conclude with a satisfied smirk.

“That is so, so, so fascinating.”

You snort. “Don’t get me started. Please.”

“Oh, I think I want to get you a little revved up!”

You shake your head, giggling slightly as you gun it on the highway.

“Okay. Here’s a little fun fact for you: there is this growing trend called itabagu which means ‘painful bag’. Like the same thing with the painful car, right? It's more popular with the lady people so they can show off pins and keychains of their favorite characters. When I went to an anime convention last year, there were all these backpacks for sell that had a clear cut out, so you could decorate it however you wanted. It just so neat to see how everyone stylized their fandom love. So much boy love. Everywhere.”

“Why do you have this wealth of knowledge and have not been using it for evil ?” she stresses, glee drenched in her voice as you her see her googling away. Her mouth pops open as she sees cute bags and happy faces.

You laugh. “Like you said, I’m a weeb. Just a wonderfully dressed one! I keep my super geeky side a secret until the waters are safe. So much indie makeup is like… fan related too, you know. Shiro Cosmetics is dope for that. I really want a Backstreet Boys lip gloss.”

Penelope wheezes, clutching at her heart. “There is Backstreet Boys lip gloss and this is the first I’ve heard of it? And I call myself a goddess of the internet….”

“I think! I think that they still make it. I do know for a fact that at one time the creator made Nicholas Cage theme lipgloss and you could get one of Nic Cage dressed as a flapper.”

Your friend is thoughtful for a moment as she relaxes against the door. You can feel her gaze focused on you as you drive her home. “I’m really glad we became friends.”

You snort again, surprised. “Thanks?”

“No, seriously! I mean it, you silly goose. Ever since you walked into my office two years ago, you have just been such a delightful person and I’m glad we really are good friends.”

You smile softly to yourself, a blush creeping up your cheeks. “Well, um, thank you,” you mutter. You click your tongue. “You know I’m terrible with praise…”

“Now that I know!” Penelope chuckles, “but I wouldn’t have it any other way. So, now I really want to go to a nerd convention with you! We can dress up together! Wouldn't that be fun?”

You smirk to yourself and cackle. “...woman, have you not found my cosplay Instagram?”

You almost swerve into oncoming traffic as Penelope grabs onto your arm while driving.

“YOU HAVE A COSPLAY INSTAGRAM?”

(And yes, you do. Though it might not always be safe for work. Wink. )

Friendship slowly sinks into your skin as words become easier with Spencer. Gone are the days you couldn’t talk to him. No, you can talk to him just fine now. Just about anything that floats through your mind.

“And, yeah. It’s just crazy to think that bananas have caused so much strife in Central America at the turn of the 1900s that companies like Chiquita—the one with the lady on the label, right?—known apparently as the United Fruit Company—oh my god, Spencer,” you pause, halting your steps and staring at him with wide eyes. “What if there was a UN of Fruits?” you whisper. “Little fruit diplomats .discussing international fruit policy!”

Without missing a beat, Spencer nods thoughtfully. “Well, the International Fund for Agricultural Development (IFAD) is an international financial institution and UN specialised agency dedicated to eradicating poverty in rural areas of developing countries. Or there is The Committee on Agriculture (COAG) is one of FAO’s—Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations—Governing Bodies providing overall policy and regulatory guidance on issues relating to agriculture, livestock, food safety, nutrition, rural development and natural resource management.”

You blink and tilt your head to the side. “I meant more like...fruits dressed up as politicians talking in funny accents,” you explain. He frowns slightly, almost as if he was the one who said something wrong. “But thank you for that new fun fact for my mental folder of other fun facts!” you add, bumping into his shoulder playfully.

It’s a reflex. The touchyness. You know deep in all your rationality that you should not pat-pat, or playfully bump, or touch your co-worker. But then you have your brain stem doing complete overrides that make you do it anyway. Be friendly, that animal brain says—show people affections because you’re good at that. Do onto others what you’d like them to do to you. Isn’t that golden rule?

So, far—no one has mentioned any discomfort at your friendly displays. They accept your endless high fives, waves, thumbs ups, and quick hugs. Even Hotch doesn’t scowl if you wave at him when you see him or smile big or get too close. And there has definitely been a friendly clasp of your shoulder when you’ve done something right.

(It took everything inside of you not to squeal with delight, but Hotch laughed anyway. Actually laughed, his stoic mask cracking. A part of you was afraid you brought upon an apocalypse.)

But Reid is different. He doesn’t shake hands with strangers and only hugs people when he’s extremely close to them. Despite the ease in conversation between the two of you, you don’t think for a moment that you’re in his most inner circles.

It’s like how in Japanese where everything is dependent of the relationship between the speaker and the other. How close they are physically, how intertwined their lives are together. Will you say kore if they’re right here, use their first name, and drop all formalities with them? Or do you are say they are , over there in distance, so far from you in friendship where last name-san is all you get with awkward smiles and stereotypical politeness.

You feel like you’re in the middle, you feel like you’re stuck in sore —just only close enough to the person speaking to be listening, but not quite close enough to breathe correctly and relish in the proximity where language falls away. That there are no distance markers forced between the two of you and you happily be right here instead of over there .

(Oh, if Penelope thought you were a weeb before hoo boy, if only she knew your thinking process.)

But troublesome doubts about relationship language evaporate when Reid shakes his head and opens the door for you as you walk into the office. “That’s me. Your fun fact guy.”

(He’s getting better at making little jokes, you notice. Or maybe he’s getting more comfortable making little jokes. Or maybe you’re rubbing off on him because that is something that you would most definitely say or—)

“Yes! And—and—oh yeah, I almost forgot,” you say as you gain your bearings again. “It’s crazy that unlike other cash crops like cotton, coffee, sugar, tobacco, or even cocoa, bananas aren’t processed at all really! They don’t spur for the development of other industries like textiles or more processed procedures. You just buy bananas from the store exactly how they were picked. The simple banana in all its yellow peeled goodness has caused so much trouble over being exactly how it is!”

Derek picks his head up from his desk and stares at you, shamelessly eavesdropping “Wait, what?”

You turn to him, eyes bright and laughter in your voice. “It’s bananas there are Banana Wars, Morgan. Bananas!”

Derek takes in a deep breath and laughs, going back to his paperwork. “I don’t even want to know.”

His posture says otherwise, but you both know that if you get started on a random topic again then you’ll just continue down that road and get completely distracted.

Spencer chuckles quietly before walking over to his desk. You do the same, your mind drifting back to political fruits and you can’t stop smiling.

Reid clears his throat, getting your attention. “Have you ever heard about the Cake War in Mexico?”

Your eyes go wide as you let out a bubbly laugh. “No! Tell me!”

His relief is palpable, as if he thought you would say “no” about Cake Wars in Mexico, which couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“Okay, so it’s actually called the Pastry War and it began in 1832 when a French pastry chef known as Monsieur Remontel claimed that Mexican officers looted his shop outside Mexico City. Remontel and others continued complaining until Prime Minister Louis-Mathieu Molè demanded that Mexico pay 600,000 pesos or about 3 million Francs. Which, considered at the time, was an outrageous amount since the daily Mexican person only made approximately one peso a day. When president Anastasio Bustamante did not make the payment, the King of France ordered his Rear Admiral Charles Baudin to declare a blockade on all Mexican ports. And that is only a tiny bit on cakes caused incredible strife in Mexico.”

“Oh, you can’t end there, Spencer!”

“Okay, okay. After the City of Veracruz was captured by France and Mexico declared an all-out war, people started smuggling goods into Mexico—”

“ Baked goods, I hope.” You’re not a very good punner, but you try your best.

Spencer’s eyes narrow at your jest. “Ha ha, well, more like flour and one smuggling party had to leave about a hundred barrels of flour on the beach— which later will be known as Flour Bluff. And despite the fact that Mexico and France eventually came to a peace agreement where Mexico had to pay the 600,000 pesos, they never do and since France falls in 1870 and yeah. The Pastry War ended up affecting so many lives and really nothing came of it. Now, how is that for bananas?”

You open your mouth to reply, but Derek beats you to the punch. “The only thing bananas around here is about why the both of you—Pretty Boy I can understand, but you Sunny Girl, I’m disappointed—happen to know about meaningless wars.”

You stick your tongue out at Derek. “You’re just jealous that we’d beat you in game of Trivia Pursuit.”

Derek smiles and gets up from his desk. “Okay, you got me there. I’m gonna get more coffee and you both can continue.”

You roll your eyes and start to settle into your desk. Spencer’s silence alarms you and risk taking a glance at him.

“You okay?”

He hums. “I was just thinking...you don’t really get annoyed when I start rambling about things.”

“Well, duh. I love to learn, Doctor. And you teach me new things all the time. Why would I be annoyed by that?”

“I don’t know, just a lot of people are and you’re…not. That’s, as you would say, rad.”

You huff with a small laugh. “I’m glad I’m rubbing off on you a little bit then! But yeah, I mean, sure you can ramble but so do I. I think it’s rad you don’t stop me when I start talking about a subject that you already know about. It's nice for me to have the chance to explain despite that you already know said thing. You acknowledge that I’m dying to tell someone, anyone who’ll listen.”

“I know that feeling,” he adds with mirth. “And I don’t mind, you have a fun way of telling me about things. I like that about you. Your enthusiasm is refreshing.”

You swallow, your heart racing up without your permission. “Thanks!” you squeak, your smile weird and squirmy.

Your gaze drops down to files on your desk and you trace one with your finger, unsure what to say next, but you can’t deny how feeling blossoms in your chest. How something so offhanded and minor could make you feel—

( You’re so intelligent. You’re so fashionable. You’re adorable. You’re— )

Nope. This road is not worth travelling.

You set up a Tinder and swipe right a few times.

You delete the app before you can go on a single date.

(Sometimes guys just give you that serial killer vibe and honestly, no thanks.)

You’re finding your place in the BAU. Making a name for yourself with management that supports you. Penelope watches over you and guides you, but Hotch is the one who calls the shots. You find yourself at his desk one morning with a coffee in your hand.

He looks up from his paperwork briefly and welcomes you to sit.

“Is everything okay?”

Hotch’s voice is always quiet. You strain to listen and root yourself in the conversation. His speaking voice is different than his business voice when he’s barking orders at people. In the four walls of his office, he’s at peace and it carries in his cadence.

You nod and place the coffee on his desk, an offering for so much more than you’re about to say. “I just wanted to say thank you for hiring me. Today’s my five-month anniversary with the BAU and well, just thank you.”

He puts down his pen and looks at you. Sometimes you feel like he can see into you, see all the things you’re hiding, that you’ve covered up deep in your soul. His lips then curl in small yet meaningful smile as he grabs the cup and pulls it towards him. A small blessing seemingly washes over you.

“You’ve been a great asset to the department, I think. Garcia was right about you.”

You suppress a giggle, wanting to remain professional, but gently smile. “Don’t tell her that. She’d be so over the moon.”

He huffs good naturedly into his cup. “Now, that I know,” he says. “But I truly mean it. I’m glad you’re part of the team. Our line of work isn’t easy and you’re bright, caring, cheery, and efficient. We couldn’t have asked for a better addition.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“And now that you’ve gotten over whatever complex you have towards Reid, the team functions well. The storming session is over so to speak.”

You don’t comment on that, but you grin bashfully. “Um, well. It was immature and silly of me.” You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I think it was human. Everyone reacts to him differently, but yours came from a place of admiration and that to me seems more positive than negative.”

“The world is too tiring to always be negative, but either way, I’m glad I’m part of this amazing team.”

Hotch nods and takes another sip of coffee again. “Congrats on five months. Hopefully, we can make it to at least five years.”

Determination ignites through you. “Most definitely, sir.”

You are lost in a world of beauty. White flowers cover hillsides and pleasing music echoes for all to hear. There is a handsome man with dark hair and blue eyes wearing an adoring smile to a lovely woman. The relief is palatable between, the months apart straining their very souls.

Someone taps on your shoulder and you jump, an earbud falling out of your ear. Your phone clatters to the desk as you whip your head around to glare at intruder.

Spencer stands sheepishly behind you, rubbing the back of his neck. His hair is getting long again, touching the top of his collar. “Ah, sorry. Just wanted to know what you’re reading. You’ve been kinda quiet these days.”

You’ve been on a book binge and everyone knows it. You’ve been staying up late, eyes glued to your phone as you suck down another book at any moment’s notice. Or fanfic. Just something written that makes your heart squeeze so tight you feel like you’ll die from happiness.

(You might have a problem.

But you’re not going to call it that.)

Spencer is curious, staring at you with pretty hazel eyes, wanting to know what you’re reading on your devil device. He’s so tall in this moment, towering over you easily. It reminds you of the first day you met him, with excitement and glee at your edges.

“It’s not a classic,” you say. “Or even anything scientific.”

He shrugs. “It has to be good if you’re so into it. You’re reading a trilogy, right?”

Profilers. Always so perceptive. You take a deep breath and swallow. “Do you promise not to judge me?”

“Why would I judge you?”

“I don’t know. I like weird things?”

“I already know that. You have two full bookshelves devoted to manga in your bedroom.”

You cross your arms and roll your eyes, trying not to grin. “That’s not weird.”

You remember his outrage last time he was over. He was helping editing your dissertation, so you could submit it to academic journals. While you were working on the latest draft, curiosity got the best of him and he asked if he could check out the bookcases in your bedroom. His outspoken horror at your intense graphic novel collection was comical that you found yourself being distracted for the rest of the afternoon by sharing your favorites with him.

(He’s far more fond of your shoujo than anything else—much like his soap operas.)

“Maybe disappointing is the right word then,” he teases, smug as he leans slightly closer towards you.

There is a pull in this moment, calling you to stand up and brush the hair out of his eyes. You wonder if his hair is soft, what his skin under your fingertips would feel like. You allow yourself this brief guilty pleasure.

“You’re only upset that I don’t have classics for you. Besides, classics are weird. They’re what the youth call boring.”

Spencer doesn’t take the bait at your taunt. He rises up his on his tiptoes and decides to be cocky instead. “Your current favorite musical is about a Russian classic.”

“So? War and Peace is a lot more digestible when there’s singing. You should give it a listen like I suggested. The Great Comet of 1812 is amazing. Trust.”

“My mother would skin me alive,” he says with a laugh. “And look, I’m willing to ignore the finer pieces of literature to know what you’re reading. So, please tell me? I want something new to read.” The slight begging in his voice makes you smile to yourself.

“Okay. Um. I’ve been reading retellings of Hades and Persephone. I really like them. They’re cute, but there’s not many of them. Most of them are indie books or from small presses.”

“Oh, really? And you mean the Rape of Persephone, right?”

“Spencer, you and I both know that you know that it means ‘to abduct’ and not to actually rape. Don’t start.”

You puts his hands up in surrender. “You got me.”

(His eyes twinkle and there is a fondness in this exchange, if only you knew so long ago that this person would mean so much to you.)

“Anyway, just be glad I’m slowly getting over my alien hero romance stories. Because, hoo boy. Those would be...” you giggle mischievously. “Yeah, anyway. Hades and Persephone. This one I’m re-reading is the Receiver of Many . Super solid, really pretty. Maybe one too many sex scenes that kinda distract you from the main story, but it’s good. The second book, Destroyer of Light , now we’re talkin’. We definitely see Persephone come into her own and yeah. The makings of the Iron Queen are happening! It’s a good series, but it’s definitely borderline erocita.”

“Uh.” He makes a face, clearly uncomfortable.

You try your best not to laugh. “But this doesn’t sound like your cup of tea.”

“I don’t think it is. Sorry.”

You pause for a moment, tapping your finger against your chin. An idea strikes you then, bright and fresh, like the story still seared in your mind from the other night. “I do have something I think you’d like.”

“What is it?”

You reach for your phone and exit the current book you’re reading, deciding to dive into your Kindle Library. It’s still there at 100% completion, the book that stole your heart and made you start reading like a madwoman again. You swipe all the way left, finding an image of the book’s cover. You flip your phone around and show him.

“Deathless ?”

You girn. “Yes, Deathless . It’s about Koschei—the Tsar of Life.”

Spencer studies the cover, his fingertips brushing against yours as he takes the phone. “...who hid his soul inside a needle, hidden in an egg, within a duck, within a hare, which is in a chest, buried under an oak tree on the island of Buyan.”

“Yes. The very same. But it follows his young bride Marya Morevna and it is...” you say wistfully, your heart feeling full as you remember each stunning line. “It is like dreaming a glorious dream, Spencer, drenched in tradition and unapologetic with its descriptions. It’s grotesque as it is beautiful, with gnarled hands and fiery blazes.”

He glances at you, a goofy smile on his face. “You love it that much?”

“More than I’ve loved anything else lately,” you dreamily sigh. “Finding a good book is much like falling in love again.” He hands back your phone. “You should read it. And take your time. Read slow, soak up every word”

“You want me, of all people, to read slower?”

“I want you, of all people, to feel like you’re in a good dream. To sit there in a world someone created and absorb every moment. Anyone can read fast, Spence, but it takes discipline to read carefully. Don’t tell me that big brain of yours can’t create an intricate world?

Spencer hums. “My imagination is...not as detailed as my memory,” he confesses. “It’s more like impressions compared to the visceral things I recall.”

You lean back in your chair, your fingers tapping on your phone. “That’s okay, as long as you enjoy it. Make them good impressions. See something beautiful, however you define it.”

“Okay, I love to read, but even that sounds too romantic.”

“Be romantic, Spencer,” you say, tapping his shoe with yours. “Life is more fun this way. Gooey and cute.”

He wrinkles his nose, humor etched in his expression. “I’ll think about it.”

Later that night as you’re brewing a cup of tea, your phone buzzes with a new text message.

You are right. Being romantic is a little fun.

Did you like it?

I’m going to send a copy to my mother.

So, you loved it :D

Yes. The rhythmic repetition, how food is revered as if gold, the way the idea that physical act of living is so painful while death more muted. The mixing of magic and not. It really was beautiful. Thank you for the recommendation.

I’m known to have a few good ones now and then.

Now, if only you’d actual give War and Peace a try you’d see that you would like it just as much.

Never! TOO MUCH COMMITMENT.

(But of course, he doesn’t know it yet, but you are reading War and Peace , just very slowly.)

No matter the time of year, California heat greets you with a searing, passionate kiss as you make yourself outside of Bob Hope Airport. You’re home for a three-day weekend, going to wine and dine your mother in celebration of her healthy life.

You spot her before she sees you and run towards her like you’ve done thousands of times before. This time, you’re the the bigger and strong one; you scoop her up in your arms. Her embrace is warm and she smells exactly the same, like childhood and comfort all in her small frame.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she says.

“I’ve missed you too, Mom. So, so much.”

California traffic is like an old-toxic high school friend—somehow all you can ever talk about, but never changing for the better. But you don’t care as you drive home to the middle of nowhere. Your mom and your aunt bought some land in farm country. The new house isn’t the same one that you knew as you were a child, but it feels good to look up stars in the sky that aren’t airplanes or streetlights.

“I’m so glad that you’re home,” Mom says as you pull into the driveway.

You smile at her, watching as your cousins peek from the front door.

“Me too.”

“Next time you should bring a boy,” she winks.

“Mother!”

(Home is where the heart is and you’re just happy you carry yours with you.)

You take a sledgehammer and pound it into the wall. Tugging it out, you see there is a sizeable dent in the plaster and you grin, sweat cooling your face as you lift it and swing it again. You’re like a metronome, constantly hitting with even timing, the sound of the wall breaking music to your ears.

You’ve been here for a few hours, helping Derek demo a house he plans on fixing up. You wanted to learn some hands on handyman things and he offered immediately. Plus, destroying stuff is a lot of fun. Not that you actively destroy stuff, but it’s hard not to pretend to be some robust viking alien creature hell bent on decementing the Earth.

You hear a low whistle after your last smash and there is Derek standing in the doorway with a bottle of cold water. You breathe a small word of thanks before happily taking a soothing swig.

“Look at you go, Sunny Girl. You don’t look like much, but even I gotta admit you pack a real punch.”

You stick out tongue out at him. “I’m my mother’s only child so I have to be her daughter and son.”

“How’s she doing anyway?”

You wipe your forehead with the back of your hand. “She’s good. Her treatments went really well and her doctor says it looks like she’s in a state of remission. We’re just lucky we caught it so early or things could have been a lot worse.”

“That’s great to hear!” he smiles. “I hope she can finally come out to visit soon.”

Derek Morgan’s smile is such a sight behold. It’s warm and kind and you feel safer knowing he’s in your corner. His well-wishes and good attitude brighten your days beyond compare and you know exactly why he’s so important to Penelope. He’s just so—effervescent and wonderful to be around.

“Thanks, dude. And thank you for teaching me how to demo today too. I mean, it’s always the best parts of the HGTV shows and it’s kinda fun that I got to do it with such a rad person.”

He laughs, deep and rich from his belly. “Consider yourself lucky,” he jokingly warns. “Not everyone is allowed to come to the properties, but you’re a quick learner. And dang girl, I never want piss you off if here is a sledgehammer hanging around!” he exclaims as he points at the now mostly damaged wall. “Look at this! You’re just going to town in here.”

You giggle. “Teehee. What can I say? You just gotta grab the bull by the balls.”

The room falls silent as you both realize what you both said. You sputter and start to shout.

“By the horns, I meant by the horns!”

It’s useless over Derek’s loud laughter, vowing to never let you forget this.

Despite blushing madly and feeling extremely embarrassed, this day has already been perfect. You’re slowly spreading your limbs, creating friendships with the team on your own. It’s wonderful. To spend time with people one-on-one. You’ve been lonely for so long.

“So, I gotta know: are you seeing anyone?”

You snap your attention back to him and scoff. “Did Penelope put you up to this?”

“My Baby Girl might have mentioned that you’re not seeing anyone and well, I think that’s crazy. You’re young. Enjoy life. Have fun!”

Your lips twist and you shake your head. “I don’t know...I don’t think I’m ready right now. I was with Matthew for a long time and now...I’m not.”

“But you haven’t been for how long? Like almost over a year, right?”

“About a year or so, yeah. I thought he and I were going to start a life together. Get married, have two point five kids together while saving the world. But he’s in California and I’m here so. That didn’t happen.”

Bitterness sits in your ribcage, reminding you of broken promises. Of the life you’ll never get to have with the man who no longer exists.

“Would you want to get back together with him?”

“I mean, a part of me will always love him. He was this bright innocent kid when we started college. And so, so smart. He really is intelligent.”

Derek smirks. “Reid is intelligent.”

You roll your eyes. “Reid is emotionally unavailable and I don’t need to be a profiler to guess what you’re gonna say next.”

(You hope he doesn’t say it next. This is the one thing you don’t allow yourself to think about except in special situations.)

Derek puts his hands up. “Hey, wasn’t it you who said he was intimidating and awe-inspiring. And oh yes, my favorite bit, when you first met our resident genius, you called him gorgeous? Wasn’t that you or some other little adorable short stack?”

“Well, yes,” you say, a seething smile on your face. “That was me, but just because Spencer is objectively attractive, doesn’t mean that I’m actually attracted to him. He’s a co-worker and a friend.” Derek scoffs in disbelief. “What? I can find people attractive! Ben Stiller’s cute!

“What? No. That’s terrible,” he chides. “Ben Stiller? Really. Ben Stiller? C’mon, if you’re going down the celebrity route, pick a better one.”

“What! He has cute ears. Okay, George Clooney.”

“Everyone thinks Clooney is hot. I think Clooney is hot.”

“Alright fine. Garrett Borns.”

“Who?”

“Google him.”

Derek does and his face breaks out in a shit-eating grin. “Oh my god. He looks almost like Reid. This is great. Is this your type? Tall and skinny?”

“No, my type is quirky, intelligent, and…tall,” you mumble.

“So, Reid.”

“And Mattie! Looks nothing like Reid by the way. He’s tall, but he’s Indian, really buff, and might actually have a British accent,” you blush.

“I promise if you admit you’re attracted to Reid, I will stop bothering you about it.”

You stomp your foot. “You’re annoying, you know that? Fine, yes. Spencer Reid is very attractive in my books. There. Happy?”

Derek comes over and pats the top of your head. “Very.”

Winter leaves you less cold this year, your heart warm from extra cheer. Your mom comes to visit in excellent health. You exchange presents with your co-workers and everything seems like it’s going according to plan.

Your heart is a little empty, wanting to sip something sweet, but you can’t fault that there is progress in friendships that nestle in the soil under your feet. You have a family away from your family, a place to call home when you feel weary.

Midnight strikes and you leave kisses on everyone’s cheek, promising another sweet year with them.

There are days when cases happen right in the heart of D.C. and your heart sinks when come across somber faces in the bullpen. Never has you worked such massive overtime, assisting Garcia with analyst duties as her back-up. You don't bother wearing makeup when your skin feels so dehydrated and the purple under your eyes a new permanent feature of your face.

It is also the rare moment the team takes a small break to eat breakfast when Rossi grins at you.

“So, a little birdie told me that you said Reid is attractive.”

Spencer, bless him, chokes on his food. You, on the other hand, almost spit out your coffee.

Quickly, you turn towards the culprit and kick Derrek under the table. “You’re a snitch.”

Penelope plops down beside you and steals a piece of fruit off your plate. “Technically I was the snitch.”

“Wow. Et tu, Brute? Betrayed. Be-trayed.” You pout and stab a piece of bacon.

Penelope leans her head on your shoulder. “I love you.”

You playfully push her. Across the table, Spencer is beet red and you feel your face pain with a blush of your own. You clear your throat. “Well, to be fair, I think everyone on the team is super attractive. I mean, have you all looked in the mirror lately?”

Derek teases. “Nice save, princess, but I know what my ears heard.”

You glare at him. “Yeah, well, I thought what’s said at demo house stays in demo house, but look where we are now. But yeah, I do think Spencer is attractive…I guess.”

J.J. laughs, clearly enjoying this situation far more than you realized. “You guess? My memory might not be as good at Spence’s, but I will not forget the day Spencer came super dazed to the office because this pretty girl dressed in purple called him gorgeous. I did not see or hear any brain activity for hours.”

You laugh, partly due to embarrassment, partly due to surprise. “Oh my god, you thought I was pretty? That’s precious!” You place your hand under your chin, posing cutely. “You’re not wrong though!”

(You ignore the way your heart is speeding up. If you keep making jokes, hopefully things will go back to normal.)

Spencer carefully takes a sip of coffee, avoiding making eye contact with you. “I mean, yeah. You were pretty. All dressed up for your first day of work…” he hums. “It was cute.”

“Okay, but our Little Miss Sunshine here is also leaving out she finds Ben Stiller attractive,” Derek taunts. “Ben Stiller. And a Reid doppelganger.”

You kick him again under the table before glaring at your other co-worker. “Rossi, look what you’ve done. I thought we have an unsub to catch and yet here we are talking about who I find attractive. This is how we’re spending the American tax dollars?”

“What can I say, kiddo?” he says with a soft chuckle. “Though, Garcia did say your ex was a good-looking guy.” His eyes twinkling with curiosity.

You sigh in defeat and grab your phone. “Such nosey profilers, I swear,” you mutter.

“That’s why we’re so good at our job.”

You look up Matt’s instagram and you still when you see the first picture. It’s your ex-boyfriend with a very beautiful woman, long blonde hair and perfect white teeth. You bite the inside of your cheek and swipe to the next one, thankful there’s no company in this one.

You show the team your phone, a picture of Matthew shirtless on the beach with a surfboard at his side. He’s toned and bronzed, his black hair tousled perfectly atop his head. He’s definitely been hitting the gym, his arms and six pack looking good.

(You definitely hope he still feels miserable and cries himself to sleep at night.)

J.J. lets out a low whistle. “I thought he was supposed to be quirky, not a Calvin Klein model.”

You laugh. “He has his moments.”

Derek looks down at his arms for a moment, his little moment of insecurity a wonderful taste of revenge. “I take back making fun of you for Ben Stiller. Geez, do all your ex-boyfriends look that good?”

“One looks like a mountain man now, I think; however, I’ll be sure to parade whatever new guy I end up dating next to get your seal of approval,” you say with a huff.

Spencer wears an unreadable expression. “Well, we’d only think about your safety.”

J.J. giggles at his side, but before you can question anything, Hotch enters the room and before you know it, you’re all back to the grind.

Thankfully, the case ends two days later on a happy note. You’re free to have a few days off much to your relief. Freedom will only be yours if you can get to your car fast enough. Most the the team has already gone home for the day, so you find yourself alone at the elevator, waiting to go down.

Or, rather you think you’re alone. Spencer appears are your side, a little winded, but softly grins.

“I’m so glad we can go home,” he says, engaging in small talk.

Spencer doesn’t do regular small talk. His form of small talk is spewing fun facts and hoping to make the other person laugh. What in the world?

You cast him a sidelong glance, unsure where this is leading. “I just want waffles and cup of coffee.”

He takes a deep breath. “...do you mind if I join you and—”

“And give you a ride home?” you continue, wanting to follow this rabbit hole.

“Please?”

You end up in a diner not far from the office. It’s quaint with old booths and even older waitresses. You love how shabby it looks. You order coffee and waffles while Spencer does the same.

The car ride over was quiet, but now that you’re seated at a booth, you break the silence. “While I don’t mind the extra company, what’s on your mind?”

“Nothing is on my mind,” he says quickly, ignoring your curious stare, he plays with the sugar. “I just want to spend time with my friend.”

“Spencer.”

He peeks at you, his face wincing. “Was I that obvious?”

“A bit. Mainly because we both live in opposite directions from work and while I usually am a helpful person, I’m like literally the last person you’d ask to drive you home since it’s so out of my way and you are a polite person.”

“...okay, that is all true, but—”

“No buts, just what’s on your mind, bud? I feel like we’re about to get extra deep up in here.”

Spencer taps his fingers against the wooden table. You watch as he forces himself to commit to this. “I don’t know about extra deep, but yeah, my reason is personal, if that’s okay.”

“Just ask and we shall see. I’m sure it’s fine.”

He takes his time, thinking carefully before speaking. “I just. I know you were with Matt for a long time and just…how do you know that you’re ready to move on? I thought you were planning to have a life with him and everything.”

Oh. Well.

This was not what you were expecting.

“Okay, um. Well, this isn’t the first time my heart has been broken,” you start to explain, “so I have that going for me. And yes, I originally wanted to be lifelong partners with Matt, but I understood why we didn’t work out,” you say, your words rushed and weird. “First of all, a nation was between us. Second, our goals didn’t match. And third, we changed in ways that no longer parallel each other.”

You mark each point with a new finger. You list them as facts, the pain of saying them out loud barely there now.

He’s quiet again, your reasons hanging between you two. “And do you think you’re ready to move on?”

“Are you asking for my well being or for your own?”

Spencer sucks in a breath of air and you wait as he thinks of an answer. You try to eat, but your waffle isn’t as good as you remembered it being. Everything feels kinda cold.

“Despite losing Maeve,” he says, and you know this will not be an easy conversation. “We were only together for one hundred days give or take...and I never even held her hand, but the idea of moving on from her hurts.”

You press your lips together and lean into the booth, trying to string something positive and encouraging to say to him, but you only have one though.

“Then don’t move on.”

“C’mon,” he scoffs, “even I know that’s not completely healthy.”

“I don’t know, Spencer. I have a great-aunt whose husband died while saving his daughter and it’s been over thirty years and she hasn’t dated anyone since. That was the love of her life, as she was the love of your life. It’s just like that sometimes.”

“Yeah, she was—but I don’t know. This is the one thing I don’t know no matter how many times I try to reason it out. Just because she’s not here doesn’t mean I need to stop living...”

“Emotions aren’t rational, Spencer. If you don’t feel ready, you don’t feel ready. Our situations are totally different anyway. See, for me, the things I miss the most aren’t Matt. Matt can go fuck himself, but the things we did together? The way I felt? That’s what I want.”

“What do you mean?”

You play with a ring on your finger, needing to fidget as you open up your heart. “I miss...the security of knowing someone would always be there. I miss the dates we would go on. I miss holding hands and falling asleep to one person. I miss hugs and kisses and—just everything that makes up a relationship. Unlike you, I don’t miss a person. I miss a sequence of actions. Totally different.”

“Missing a sequence of actions does sound a lot better, I guess, if you have any to remember,” he says quietly, almost as if he’s confessing something he doesn’t say often.

Your heart aches for him. “You really never even met her once?”

“No.”

“Not even for a date?”

He shakes his head.

And the rest of the world goes on as normal, as if you didn’t just hear the most heart shattering thing. The diner is still somewhat noisy in the mid-morning. A kid is laughing, a waitress is calling out orders to the kitchen, and a fork clatters to the ground, but you’re stuck processing this confirmation, your heart twisting with every moment.

“I apologize for the lack of filter, but holy fuck, Spencer. That shit is tragic. Like I can’t even comprehend.” You bring your hand to your mouth, wanting to cover up all the pity that’s resting on your tongue. So, you choose not to say it. “I’m sorry that that happened. And that sucks and I don’t know anything else to say, but you’re totally allowed to be hung up on this. I would be so, so, so hung up on this! Actually, I think I am getting hung up on this for you right now!”

He lets out a weak laugh. “Thank you. I think you’re the first person who told me it’s okay to not move on. I... I don’t really talk about her to...anyone, but it’s kinda easier with you. You don’t make me feel like I’m obligated to feel a certain way about it. I feel less stupid about it, I guess. It was a just a mess, from start to finish.”

“Yeah, but who cares, it was your mess and no one can take that away from you. And it might be the romantic in me, but your relationship with her, the bits I do know, like the letters and your meet cute is rather...cute. It sounds like there is more good than bad.”

“I like to think there was,” he says, pushing his food on his plate.

You set your fork down and lean back into your seat. You don’t need to be a profiler to see exactly what Spencer is feeling or thinking. But most importantly, you know your friend needs you and you refuse him to continue now this road alone.

And then an idea strikes you like lightning. Brilliant and bright, coursing delight through you as see everything coming together in your mind.

“You know what,” you start, confidence in your voice. “We’re gonna do something fun. How good are you with spontaneity?”

“Uh, pretty good considering my job.”

You grin and link your fingers together. “Perfect. Okay, so tomorrow you and I are going to go an amusement park for funsies.”

Spencer’s mouth twists. “...funsies?”

“Yes, funsies. You desperately need it. So, dress down,” you order. “Comfy shoes and jeans please.”

“Um.”

“And you can’t say no because I’m doing you a huge favor by going super out of my way to drive you home as you told me a sad story over breakfast. And I’ve been dying to go anyway, so there’s that,” you finish saying in a rush.

You might have presented your case more childlike than intended, but Spencer seems to take be taking it into consideration. That is a victory in itself.

After a few moments, Spencer nods his head. “Okay. But there’s one problem.”

“What?”

“I don’t own any jeans.”

(You do your best not to face palm.)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #cm #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader

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convervative-blog · 5 years

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essay preparation, Conservative Judaism: Our Ancestors To Our Descendants by Elliot M. Dorff

alright buds gonna go thru this book, theres chapters and then like essay questions, so im here reading the chapters then answering the essay questions. im fucken ignorant as shit so this is all my stupid opinions that im still developing and it might change as i learn more idk. enjoy, lots of surprise-zionism in here skip if thats not ur thing

I. yes services start early morning we do prelims then shacharit torah & musaf then kiddush congregants range in ages from young to elderly (predominantly older tho) and in observance from super frum (ok like 5 of us lol) to basically secular & very pluralistic no one cares, very close-knit, "maritime personality disorder" very evident, love it

II. never studied at yeshiva or went to hebrew school, looking into doing so (u know when), actually the reason i picked up this book, im inherently drawn to like childrens resources (this is a highschool level book but u get it) bc as an adult i missed out on jewish child education, so im drawn to childrens resources to "learn from the start" so to speak

III. parents are gentiles, no jewish identity really, grandma resolutely denied being a jew though got 'mistaken' for one almost daily due to last name and appearance, 'corrected' people constantly, got bullied for it (i say grandma but its still patrilineal dont @ me), she didnt know anything about judaism and was frequently antisemitic and firmly catholic

IV. conservative judaism means that halachic rules are binding but that they should and must be interpreted via the lens of the society in which we live, in order to reduce suffering and increase overall observance (e.g. women, lgbt+, accessibility), conservative judaism also means an affordance of leniency in individualistic expressions of obligatory mitzvot

V. emancipation occurred from 1776-1880, within western europe (france holland england) during the rise of nationalism jews were considered naturalized citizens of their respective countries & not foreign outliers, allowed to serve in army etc but had negative impact bc jews at the time began to lose their jewish identity whilst adopting goyische practices (ref. assimilation)

VI. absolutely and i fully intend on making aliyah, learning and speaking hebrew is nourishing for my soul, its an internal secret of mine that “magneto was right” u know, “does mainstreaming work?” and like, i say this not bc i believe jews should be separate (or even that jews should immigrate to israel) but in the interest of jewish protection and continuation, is mainstreaming going to contribute to jewish protection and continuation? mainstreaming needs to include existence. u cant mainstream two groups if one group is only accepted when they dont exist as themselves. “jews and gentiles can exist together! but u better show up to work on yom kippur.” jews deserve self-determination and to have the opportunity to live in their homeland which is the only safe place on earth for jews to publicly and fully express their judaism, to go to a school where they can safely and publicly express their judaism, to go to a synagogue where they can safely and publicly express their judaism, to go to a job where they can safely and publicly express their judaism. u tell me where that is, is it where u live? thats the downfall of mainstreaming, bc sure jews can assimilate but what u see is that ppl who arent jews will only interact with them if they renounce their judaism. sure u want to say jews and goyim living side by side respecting one anothers practices is the ideal, absolutely im "pro mainstreaming" for those ideals, but be practical! that shit aint never gonna happen, dont sacrifice yourself and ur family and ur friends for an academic concept that has never manifested itself in reality

VII. the advent of secularism! secularism is super appealing. movies! tv! books! music. mixed dancing as it were. all the things considered heretical bc they could curse g-d, but appealing on a neurological level. who doesnt wanna sit down and binge drop dead diva for 9 hours, its not me buds. so ofc many orthodox peeps would be drawn to it, but in the interest of maintaining their practices and beliefs, new movements would necessarily sprout up in response

VIII. assimilation occurred bc the advent of secularism drew alot of observant jews away from their practices and subsequently their identities, it was more appealing to be a citizen (a "german" not a "jew") bc it afforded them rights and privileges and goys would interact w them on an equal level, as long as they didnt express being jewish too much, or used their jewishness in a self-deprecating kind of way (alot of jewish comics got famous like this, ppl love listening to jews self-deprecate and in a downward shifting economy u gotta get it where u can get it)

IX. the differences between halacha in orthodox judaism and reform judaism? oh boy well today, because reform judaism looked totally different in the 1800s guys (most american jews were reform, which is why american jewish culture was so radically separate from european jewish culture and far more secular), but at the core orthodoxy believes halacha as it was written and interpreted (and as it continues to be interpreted and debated) is binding, no ifs ands or buts. u can find reasons why things can and cant be done but its always within the established halacha. reform judaism doesnt consider halacha binding but essentially “refers” to it as they develop their individual practices (”im a woman but im not gonna cover my hair if i get married bc blah blah blah” might be a reform opinion, its deciding not to follow the law, but its still referencing the law) and is exponentially more concerned with the idea of jewish peoplehood, identity, nationality, history, outside the world of torah. (yes? no? this is all shit i was spoonfed by 1 guy so like?)

X. im writing a fucken essay on this man. need to chill out and condense. get my opinions in order. orthodoxy is appealing bc most ppl will believe the same shit u do and put the same weight on it, conservatism is more pluralistic/individualistic, definitely more secular, even tho i wholeheartedly agree with this & practice it in my life, the art of letting people do their own shit without judging them, the art of welcoming ppl into ur space despite their diverging belief systems, just: sometimes u can feel kind of silly when u know ppl probably dont take as literal interpretations as u do. strengths of reform individualism, pluralism, activism, diversity, influx of new opinions/thoughts, ppl talk to me about this i know very little about reform judaism dont get mad at me pls. weaknesses uhhhhhh lol am i gonna go there on tumblr.com 2day... weaknesses i guess would be that its not taken as seriously by outsiders? is that acceptable/right?

endin here for now!

#op #orthodox #reform #conservative judaism #conversion #judaism #theology #israel #zionism

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thedappleddragon · 3 years

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ugh im big stupid and haven't been posting my shit here for a while. I've still been typing it out in my notes, I just havent transferred them onto here lol. im putting it all under the cut, don't worry

Today was pretty dang nice! I spent a little time outside because it was nice and warm out, I drew a little in my sketchbook and digitally rendered a picture of Anna’s new princess outfit, ran an errand with my mom to pick up a graphing calculator and a pack of soda, ate some Wendy’s, and did a lot of sewing for my dress! I joined the bodice lining and exterior, and did a little over half of the sewing for the skirt. I’m doing French seams so there’s no raw edges on the inside, so I still have to iron it and go over the second round of stitches. My machine malfunctioned for a moment with the thread tangling up in the lower bobbin thingy, so I left it alone for like an hour and it fixed itself lol. I’m very happy with how the bodice came out after clipping all the extra fabric in the corners and test fitting it. I think it’ll be great when it’s done!! Although I may or may not need to seam rip a little bit of the skirt to extend the zipper down so I can get it over my fuckin DUMPTRUCK when putting it on. Right now there’s enough stretch to put it on, but Idk how well that’ll stay after attaching the 2 pieces. Also it might end up making me look fat/preggo in the end with how the skirt lays lmao. I also did a really quick test fit with the sleeves, and I might actually like it better sleeveless? I’ll put one on anyway and go from there to see which I like better. HOORAY this dress has pockets!! But I may have put them a little low lol. I wanted to do a big dress debut at prom, but turns out graduates aren’t allowed due to covid restrictions :( so that really sucks. But we’re still gonna hang out a little bit beforehand, and I can still do a debut. I made a little bow out of some scrap dress fabric, which I want to put in my hair for pre-prom. I think I’ll braid my hair, maybe get some fake flowers from dollar tree and ribbon to add somehow, and put the ribbon either at the bottom or the top, wherever the hair tie eventually goes. I’m so exited to work on it more. I’m kinda running out of white thread tho so I’ll have to get more. Later in the evening i got hungry and made ramen while my dad and I watched a documentary on some of the horrible shit that went on all around the world during 2020, some of which I had forgotten about, some that was really surreal and out of a dystopian movie, and some stuff that was just upsetting to watch. It was still pretty good tho. I got work tomorrow and I’m really sleepy even tho it’s only 12:30 so I think I’m gonna grab a snack and go to sleep soon. Gnight mwah

Yesterday I worked and sewed until I ran out of thread and drew a little bit. Spent most of my shift watering flowers, then I went home and ate for a moment, then watered more and picked dead flowers and talked about avatar and other animated shows with the highschool girl I work with. Came home and hung out for a while, that evening made some good pasta.

Today I justly hung out, then went with mom to pick up a bookshelf and went through strawtown which I thought was a very funny name for a town. There was a cute antique shop in there tho. On the way back we stopped in a sewing shop called Always in stitches. I expected it to be a very small shop, but it was SO much bigger than I thought it would be. They had tons of fabric and quilting supplies, and lots of old ladies working and talking. I picked up a cone of white thread and a fabric sample pack. Then I sewed my dress a little bit. I still have lots to do, and only like 2.5 days to do it. I’ll get there tho. All I have to do is add the skirt hem, add the pockets back in (I took them out so I could see them in normally), add sleeves and hem them, and add the zipper. And attach the skirt to the bodice. I think I’ll be able to do it. I had yogurt for the first time in forever today. Tbh I used just enough to hold together the strawberry and granola bits kgelgskgs. It was pretty good tho. I drew ELEVEN pages in my sketchbook, about 8 of them being a comic about the pony au of our royalty au. I could have done the comic with human characters but ponies are so much easier to draw aggsssdh. I spent 40 minutes typing out the dialogue and editing it on top of the rest of the comic so my friend could read it, but she still hasn’t read my text :( oh well that’s fine lol. The original plot was supposed to be Sam talking to an accidental illusion of me being mean about her blight, but then I accidentally made it something different. I might just draw the alternate ending instead. Update I just did

Yesterday I sewed and went to Menards to buy tile for moms bathroom.

Today was VERY productive, I feel like. I woke up and immediately took a shower and did laundry. I spent some one just sitting on my bed scrolling and researching while listening to medieval remixes of songs lol. At some point I went out to buy subway for everyone and stopped at dollar tree for nail polish and satin ribbon. I made the ribbon into a little choker and wanted to use it for the hem of the skirt, but I was too short. In total I spent HOURS hemming and pinning and seam ripping and ironing and sewing today, but it’s still not done. I gotta kick my ass into high gear if it’s gone be done by Sunday afternoon. I started sewing the bottom hem, but my machine has been doing this weird thing where the fabric scrunches up right past the sewing foot and leaves wrinkles and gathers so loose I can move it around with my hands easily. I think it’s just my tension being too tight or something, I adjusted it a bit and I’ll test it in the morning. I’m too tired and it’s too late at night to be doing that much sewing. I seam ripped the entire back skirt seam so I could extend the zipper a little further down, and I’ll sew it back up once the hem is done. After that all I need to donis connect the skirt to the bocice, fix the zipper, and hem the arm holes. I don’t want to use the sleeves I made because the edges don’t line up at all and I don’t think I would be able to lift my arms, the way it’s built. The nail polish I picked up works way better than I thought it would, leaving a pretty good metallic sheen after just one coat. Way better than I thought for a dollar. I helped mom lay down tile a little bit, ripping up one old tile and helping a bit at a time throughout the day. I kept asking if she wanted help with the actual tiling part but she said no. We also couldn’t get the fuckin box cutter I bought to work. It’s supposed to be easy to replace the blade, but we couldn’t figure it out lol. I’m falling asleep fun. Washed my face twice, trying to take good care of myself before prom so I look good in photos. Gotta wash hair tomorrow. Made hamburger meat

Spent all day sewing and listening to bardcore remixes. Dress is as done as I bother to make it rn

Tbh I was hoping for a little more for today. I’ve spent the last like week or longer working towards this, and going especially in depth the past 3 days. I got all silky smooth, worked for hours on my dress, thought about pretty much nothing except prom day. I was late because my dad had my neighbor come over to take pictures of me in my dress. I thought it was just going to be her holding my dad’s phone to get a picture of us together, but she brought her whole ass professional camera and spent several minutes taking pictures. Then I took the weirdest way possible to get to my friend’s house on accident because google maps said it was the fastest way to get there. But HEY when I did get there I enjoyed hanging out with my friends. We ate some dinner AND??? Sammie I’m sorry if you’re reading this but THE MASHED POTATOES?? WERE S O BLAND????? AFAJSTSTHJST ily but girl. Just a little salt could have gone a long way <3 the steak and especially the green bean casserole were good tho :) dinner was good with the sparkling juice and little desert. Overall everything was just very loud, but that’s to be expected when this is everyone’s first time seeing each other in a goddamn while: actually I think they’ve all seen each other at school without me but hey whatever. I think I fucked up my phone screen on accident by sitting on it while it was in my pocket with my keys, leaving a spiderweb crack in it. I checked and yeah it’s not just the screen protector :( eh I don’t care that much, It didn’t fuck up the lcd screen or anything. We went up to Sam’s room and hung out and talked while she did Liz’s makeup and took pictures, and I borrowed a little of her concealer before photos. There was a little photo shoot in their front yard, and looking at the photos I look a little fat in them but I LOVE all the photos taken in Sam’s room where we were all just hanging out. Idk why but whenever you have to do photos and they say to do a silly one, it never turns out good, but the fun ones you casually take always turn out way better. They’re more genuine :) but then it was time for everyone to go to prom and for me to go home 😔 we only hung out for like an hour and a half. I didn’t want to take off my dress, seeing as I put in so much effort to sew the whole dress and shave and look pretty, so I wore it around the house for a bit until I got tired and went to lay in bed. I watched the mitchels vs the machines, which is a fuckin DELIGHTFUL movie!! Everybody go watch it it’s so cute <3 I also played some Pokémon and watched a little YouTube in bed, but feeling unfulfilled and wanting to do something different, I just didn’t know what. So instead I started typing this up as my sister brought me a cupcake from prom :) I had a bite and put the rest in the fridge, since it was so big and in a plastic container. I texted a friend over Snapchat asking if they had fun at prom, and they said it was kinda ass. I tried relating and saying yeah all school dances are a little ass, and my friend group once had anti prom and played dnd instead, but they just said ‘that’s nice’ back and idk if that means they’re annoyed at me or they’re just tired and didn’t wanna text or what but :( idk. Either way it’s fine, right now all I care about is going to bed. Gnight I guess. Also I keep thinking about that textpost that’s like “diary of icarly” and she talks in these simple-ass sentences and now I feel self conscious about how I write these snafnfs. I already know I write like a child in these, but that’s just because I don’t wanna go through the effort of making this sound nice and professional every day lmao. So child writing it is. Also painted my nails really horribly and it took forever to clean up which made me late

Woke up, went to work, spent a little time stocking, watered indoor plants, then attempting to work the register, and organized plants the rest of the time. I stood behind one of my coworkers as she checked people out, kind of understanding what she was doing but not that much, and read the manual in down periods. She had me check out a couple people, and it was NERVE WRACKING AS HELL. Thankfully everyone was very nice, and my coworker stood by and helped, and right as I was getting my foothold, my boss called for me to work outside and bring in the new shipment of plants. BUT YOU KNOW WHAT WAS REALLY NICE?? I was actually able to help some people today!! :D I’m slowly getting better at my job which is nice :) originally I was only gonna work 4 hours, but there were more plants to get and I felt like I could keep going, so I ended up working 6 instead. Every time I come home from the end of my shift I feel bad for not working more and like I should have stayed longer. Tbh I think I could do it if I had a proper break! I’ve been doing 4 hour shifts with maybe a water break in the middle because i don’t know how to ask to go on break ;-; Ike my secondary boss in the garden center is super nice and approachable and friendly but the main boss is like. Terrifying. I never know when he’s joking or being serious and I don’t understand him and assffsfamms it SUCKS. But whatever, I went home and ate some Mac n cheese and laid in bed because my back hurt and played on my ds for the rest of the night. I tried a couple new games, none of which I spent very long on. I tried okami den where you’re the wolf puppy child of the precious games protagonist I think, and idk maybe I’ll give it a better try in the future, but I wasn’t feelin it. I spent like 30 minutes on a pro bass fishing simulator and couldn’t clear the first level because the fish wouldn’t get close enough to my boat lmao. Sonic and Mario at the Olympic Games was fun until I lost at table tennis to Mario. I’d play it again. But I have work again tomorrow so I gotta go to bed good night. Having to blast my fan and play drawfee on my phone to drown out moms tv again >:(

Ate a pbj for breakfast? Went to work, moved plants around, took my lunch break, went to subway with an expired coupon, ate at home and times it perfectly so I could watch one section of the new drawfee episode, went back to work, made myself sad thinking about the god girl homunculus from fullmetal alchemist, picked dead flowers off the petunias, left a little early, hung out at home, left to go get mom’s medicine, found my dad at the store, followed him around and shopped for a bit, can home to unload everything, talked with him about buying one of the cars from him so it would be under mom’s insurance after the divorce, talked about being able to hang out at dads apparent after we help him move, ate some of the stuff we bought, and now I’m hanging out in bed again. I picked up my Pokémon black save and played a while today which was nice. I think I’m gonna work more in the next few days, be really busy with shit for like a week, and finally have a breather after the 15th. I really need to switch brain gears back into college stuff soon so I can sign up for orientation and figure out finances and shit, but for now it’s midnight and I don’t have to think about it lol

Today was pretty good, but also pretty boring. I played Pokémon all day since I didn’t have work, cooked some hamburger meat, and went on an errand for mom but got the wrong thing so I went out later to buy the right thing. I got spicy chicharrones instead of regular ones oops. On my drive back from getting the right thing, I rolled all my windows down and loved the feeling of driving around right after sunset when the weather was nice but cool, especially after standing in mom’s loud-ass room trying to ask about her bank card. I thought about going back out to aimlessly drive around the park and back, but instead hung out in my kitchen as my cat fell asleep on my lap. I think I’m gonna get paid tomorrow, so that’s exciting :D I probably made a solid couple hundred dollars if I had to guess. Idk what I’m getting paid per hour, but it’s probably ~$10 and I COULD go through my texts again to see how much I’ve worked, but I don’t really wanna lmao. I should just start putting that in my notes app instead...

Just had probably the most involved, longest dream ever?? It was a mix of infinity train and dangenrompa, we were mostly stuck inside my house, one boy left for years to search for supplies, I tried biking along a tail that disappeared into tree roots and a ditch with grass, cried because we had been in the same car for so long I was afraid they were gonna make us kill someone to get past, and at the end we escaped or something and had to fuck up security cameras and get past loopholes and lots of cereal boxes were involved? Idk there’s just so much I don’t remember. I wasn't sure if I had to go to work today, so I sent my boss a text and just kinda hung out. was making hamburger meat for my mom when my boss called asking me to come in, so I took a shower and worked from 1-5. spent some time at the register, and got way better at checking stuff out :) I learned a couple things, and there was one old lady in particular who was very patient and nice to me while my coworker went to go find a smaller bag of birdseed. when it stopped being busy inside, I went ut to the garden center to help price plants and spent the rest of my shift out there. I got paid too! $9 an hour, 22 hours, $200 in total. hell yeah. not bad, although I literally have no frame of reference on if this Is good or not. after work I went home for a second, then got Hardee’s (or carls jr in the western states). I used a coupon for chicken tenders for me and my sister :) and while I was driving around today, I found myself wishing that everything in life could be as smooth and easy as driving my car through my neighborhood. and then I kinda laughed thinking about how I cried my first time driving on a major road asdjfasjdhf. but seriously I love driving my dad’s silver Volvo!! its so comfy with 4 wheel drive and good petal control, its like always driving on freshly paved roads <3 unfortunately that's the car my dad is taking when he moves into his apartment to use as his full time car instead of his shit-ass blue Volvo, and we’re gonna be stuck with the red Volvo with a really touchy gas pedal and slow break pedal. (idk if you've noticed but we really love old Volvos in this family. they’re all old and boxy as hell and I love em <3 ) then I played Pokemon black and beat the elite 4 and champion in one try with a lot of revives lmao. I was kinda underleveled, right at 48-50 range, same as them. I was angry about stuff and in pain earlier in the shower as I washed my hair, but I dont remember exactly what it was. now I have my soft Spotify playlist going so I can maybe go to sleep soon. oh wait I remember being angry that all I could thin about all day was work, even tho it only takes up a few hours of my day, and then I do nothing all day afterwards. idk it’s just weird.

#thanks for coming to my ted talk #April 2021 daily #may 2021 daily #2021 daily

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dprwolfgang · 7 years

Text

Rush // Christian Yu feat. William Singe

My Aussie babes tbh.I’m sorry I did Will dirty lol but if you don’t know who he is check out his music.

Just want to say thanks to everyone who’s been supporting so far y’all are amazing and I really do appreciate the feedback.

Fluff // Kinda based of Will’s song Rush but with a twist.

Enjoy

He said it was the last time.

So why was he here?

Getting home from work the last thing I expected was to find a very drunk Christian outside my door.How the hell did he even get inside the building?

“Baby you’re h-homeeee,” Christian hiccups smiling lopsidedly at me. “I-I miszed youuuuuu.”

“Christian what are you doing here and drunk off your ass for that matter?”

“I told youuu I miszed you duhhhh.”

He looked up at me,eyes glassy and slightly hooded.Christian and I weren’t a couple.We were best friends,keyword being were.You see everyone has their vices and it just so happened that we were each others.

The moment I caught feelings however, I knew I’d fucked up.It was the one rule we had in this entire situation.No catching feelings and as much as I tried to hide it,I had slipped up and exposed myself in one of our arguments which resulted in him ending our little friends with benefits situation.

That was two months ago though so why was he here now?

Opening my front door I helped him up off the floor and inside my apartment.Letting him drop onto the couch I disappeared into the kitchen to get him water and painkillers only to find an empty living room when I returned.

“Ian?” I called out.The sounds of coughing and groaning filled my ears so I followed it to find Christian on the floor, head over the toilet as he puked his guts out.He must have over drank because he never throws up when he’s drunk.He might talk a lot of shit but he knows how to hold his liquor.

“Christian?”

“Hmm,”

“Did you eat anything today?” I question helping him up and flushing the toilet once I’m sure he’s finished.

“Coffee and…and..and…coffee,” he laughed.

“Coffee isn’t food Christian,” I shook my head at him.

“Well that’s what I had silly…” He singsongs with a lopsided grin on his face.Why the fuck would the guys let him get this drunk?

Turning on the shower I reached for the hem of his tshirt to help him out of it. “Ohhhh someone’s eager.”

“You’re covered in your own vomit,now strip and get in the shower.” He salutes at me before trying to strip out of his clothes.Getting him into the shower was another challenge as all Christian wanted to do was sleep against the bathroom wall.

“Ian please get under the water,” I pleaded tugging him lightly.His body complied but as soon as he got under the water his arms wrapped around my waist and his head rested in the crook of my neck.

“I miss you..” he sounded a bit more sober now. “I miss waking up next to you, I miss hanging with you, I-I miss us.”

“Yeah well who’s to blame for that huh?”

No other words we spoken. I helped him get cleaned up before doing the same and changing into a extra large shirt and shorts,my now curly hair all over the place as I grabbed a pair of basketball shorts he’d left over here for him to change into. I was hungry and knowing that he needed something in his stomach I ventu into the kitchen after getting him settled in my bed.

I had no idea why I was helping him.We ended messily and the words that were said we could never take back,given the fact that we were both drunk that night.

Just as I strained the pasta my doorbell rang.Who’d be at my house at this hour I had no clue but I still checked to see anyways.

“Liam what are you doing here?” I asked the blonde before me.

“What do you mean? I texted you earlier telling you that I’d come by before I left tomorrow.” He stated showing me the bags of takeout in his hands.A text did come in earlier but I didn’t check it.

“Liam now really isn’t a good time,I-I’ve kinda-”

“Baby I’m hungry,” my head snapped in the direction Christian’s voice came from to see him standing not to far behind me rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“The fuck is he doing here?” Will asked drawing me away from ogling at Christian’s bare chest.

“What do you mean why is he here? He’s my friend and this is my apartment,”

“You told me y’all weren’t talking anymore.”

“And you told me that she was playing with my feelings so I’m surprised to see you here.” Christian spoke up startling me.

Pulling William in the apartment I shut the door and looked at both of them. “Start talking,”

“I knew he’s one of your closest friends so that night at Dabin’s release party I figured I’d talk to him and see if he knew how you felt about me.Long story short he said that you didn’t feel the way I felt and that you’d only claim to like me so I’d keep you around.He said that was the game you played and I swear I didn’t believe it but idk I guess I just let him get into my head and I’m sorry.” Christian admits dropping onto the chair.William didn’t even try to defend himself.

“Why? Why would you do that Liam when you knew exactly how I feel about him? How many times did I come crying to you about my feelings for him and that’s how you gon do me? I’m always here for you,when your girlfriend left I dropped everything just to support you and you gon do me dirty Liam! What kinda friend are you?”

“I’m in love with you okay!” Now I’d known Liam since I was 15 and I moved to Australia to live with my grandma.Back then him and my cousin Darnell used to always be making music together and I’d always be with them.Liam was one of those guys that girls never really paid attention to but to me he was perfect. I had the biggest crush on him but when I finally told him he brushed me off and said he didn’t feel the same and that he only saw me as a friend.Being the person I am I pushed it aside and we went back to being friends.Eventually I realized that what I felt for Liam was just a school girl crush,I wasn’t in love with him the way I thought I was and that’s where Christian comes in.Christian’s mom always visited my grandma seeing as she was alone after my grandpa passed.His mom always kept her company when she had time so much so that on Sundays for family dinner we were always at their place or vice versa.I’d never met Christian,just seen a couple pictures of him but his mom and my grandma would forever tease me and tell me that we’d be just right for each other.

Christian and I met one summer while I was in Seoul traveling and ended up having the same flight home and being seat mates.We bonded at lot that summer,we had a lot in common and it was sad because I thought I’d never see him again but once our flight landed there was Mama Yu at the airport waiting for me or so I thought.Christian dropped his bag and raced over to her embracing her in his arms and that’s where everything clicked.With Christian being an idol at the time and me going to university we rarely saw each other but it never affected our friendship.Everything about him drew me in and even if we were just friends he always made me feel like I’m the only girl in the world.

“This has gotta be some sick fucking joke! Now you love me Liam? What the fuck do you take me for huh? I confessed to your ass when I was 17 and you said you didn’t feel the same,you sai-”

“I lied. I didn’t want to fuck up our friendship.” He admitted.Christian scoffed from his position on the couch.

“So now that someone else is interested in her you suddenly want her? That’s fucked up.” Christian said.

“Everything was fine until your ass came along.We were good then all of a sudden all I can hear is Christian this,Christian that! It’s fucking annoying.So what I lied to him,I was here before you and I’ll always be here because when it comes down to it she’ll always choose me over you fuck heads.She loves me.”

I couldn’t believe half the shit that was coming from his mouth.What the hell had happened to the Liam I knew?Both of them started arguing back and forth with each other and it was giving me a headache.

“Both of you shut the fuck up,now!” Both men shut up and turned their attention to me.

“Liam I loved you but I’m not in love with you anymore.It was just some silly school girl crush that I grew out of. I’m in love with Christian and I have been for a while and you know that.We’re friends and that’s all we’ll ever be.” I reason with him.

“It’s either him or me.”

“What?!”

“Choose y/n! Him or me?” Liam asked.

“Liam I’m not going to choose.We’re still friends and you’re behaving like a fucking toddler.” He was pissing me off with his melodramatic bullshit.

“I refuse to sit around and be your friend while you’re with him so it’s either me or him,simple as that.”

“Him..”

“See I told you she’d pick me!” Liam turned to Christian smiling smugly at him until what I said finally sunk in. “Wait,What?” He turned back around to face me.

“I choose him.All you’ve done lately is show me how much of a shit ass friend you are and why I don’t need you in my life. I really hope one day you’ll find someone but it’s not me.” I didn’t want to end it like this but sometimes you just have to let people go and right now it’s what’s best for both of us.His life is now in America and I honestly just don’t feel about him the way I once did.

William shook his head at me before leaving out my front door.Homeboy could’ve at least left the food.Sigh.Closing and locking the door behind him I turned around to face Christian who was standing directly behind me almost giving me a heart attack.

“You love me?” He questions,both his hands on either side of my head against the door.

“Yeah,I guess I do.” I smiled looking anywhere but his face. “You love me?”

“Yeah, I guess I do.” He teased me placing a hand under my chin and lifting my face up to look at him. “ I guess we love each other.” He smiled cheekily at me before capturing my lips with his in a slow,tantalizing,breathtaking kiss.His hands moved to my hips as he lifted me up and held me against the door as my legs wrapped around his waist and my arms around his neck pulling him closer.

Christian slowly pulled away leaving small pecks on my lips resting his forehead against mine,his eyes closed. “I missed holding you like this. I missed your taste,your smell,god just you in general.”

“You taste like toothpaste and stale alcohol.” I scrunch my face up at him.He rolled his eyes me and gave me a ‘really’ look before blowing his hot as breath all over my face being the petty ass he is.

“Eww,take yo booty breath out my face.” I mushed his head while he laughed his ass off.

“You weren’t saying that when your tongue was down my throat though.” He winked before hoisting me up and over his shoulder,smacking my ass repeatedly as he made his way towards my bedroom.

Christian threw me lightly onto the bed before settling between my legs.His arms wrapped around my waist and his head resting just under my breasts as he looked up at me.

“I love you.” He smiled at me a look of content on his face.

“I love you too.” I ran my fingers through his hair and he hummed lightly and before I knew it his soft snores could be heard as he slept in comfort.

This.I’d definitely choose this over anything else.Barom Yu. I got lost in him and it’s exactly the same as being found.

#thewritersnetwork #christian yu #christian yu scenarios #barom yu #yu barom #dpr ian #dpr we gang gang #dpr scenarios #dprteam

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toomanyfeelings5 · 6 years

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happy, part 7

this fic sure has been a rollercoaster to write lol. there i was basing the title off of an angsty mitski song, and now here i am, thinking that rosy is canonically going to get her own kind of happiness, on-screen and everything.

for the record, in one of her canon tumblr posts rosy mentions that someone lent her a copy of ash by malinda lo, so it’s in the fic too. :)

update’s finally here! thank you for being patient. link to the other parts of the fic.

19. when she was little, rosy read every single nancy drew book she could get her hands on. mysteries were so fun to read. she loved watching scooby doo too, how the big scary monster always ended up being some nasty, ordinary man or woman out to make trouble. nancy was smart, funny, and brave, braver than rosy ever was, and she always solved her mysteries. in scooby doo, the monster was always unmasked. there’s a simplicity in mysteries meant for kids, a kind of comfort in knowing that by the end, there were no more secrets. everything would be solved. everything would be fixed.

thomas leaves his laptop open on her bed, and rosy--well, this is like a mystery of her own, isn’t it? it can’t hurt to take a look, right? maybe he’s been acting so highstrung lately because of family problems, or med school apps, or something else he hasn’t told her about.

she skims the subject lines of emails from his advisor-- meeting at 6? and rescheduling? and i expect my students to be on time and then-- rosy’s eyes widen--final notice. then there are the emails from harvard, yale, princeton: we regret to inform you... and thank you for applying to our program, but unfortunately...

“no,” she hears herself say. “no, this can’t be happening.”

thomas was supposed to have everything together. thomas was supposed to be a star student, a future heart surgeon. he was also supposed to be a good boyfriend, but that--

rosy shakes her head. she can’t think that way. she can’t.

a thought strikes her amidst her mounting fear: she’s meddled this much, why not meddle just a bit more? nancy was always rewarded for all of her snooping around, wasn’t she?

rosy bites her lip, and then she steels herself. jerks her head in what she hopes is a decisive nod. “something must be done.”

when she looks up from sending the email to his advisor, she almost startles. that’s odd. rosy had forgotten, just for a second, that the camera was rolling. she hastily turns the it off, and nearly smiles: she forgets the camera whenever billie is there.

rosy freezes in place, then shakes her head again. she has other things to focus on. that--that can wait, just like...she sighs. just like everything else.

20. yes, ok, rosy feels guilty about it. but it’s not like thomas was going to ask her for help, or even tell her about it in the first place. he’s kept all of this so hidden from her. he knows she’s read every nancy drew book ever written. he knows that she watches masterpiece theatre religiously. what does he expect, her to keep quiet while her boyfriend flunks himself out of advising and out of any decent med school?

rosy tells herself that she wants him to be happy, that she wants to soothe his jangled nerves, and to be sure, she doesn’t want thomas to be so stressed anymore, to be so fixated on getting into an ivy league. he needs to relax. she really does want him to feel ok.

it’s just that rosy also wants him to get into harvard or yale, and she wants him to become an internationally-recognized heart surgeon, and she wants him to have surety and security and fame so that she can share in it, too. rosy sighs as her head hits the pillow at midnight, the earliest she’s gone to bed all week. fine, yes, she wants him to succeed because if he doesn’t, if his advisor doesn’t meet with him, if he doesn’t get into any of the schools he wanted to, then what will people say about her?

“rosy,” she imagines dana and her other friends saying, “you sure picked a loser, didn’t you?”

all of the overconfident certainty that she cherishes about him would crumble away.

rosy can’t handle that. thomas can’t either.

she will fix this. she will.

21. is it weird to look at billie and think about the fact that valentine’s day is a few weeks away? is it weird to listen to billie play the guitar and think that it’s cute when she scrunches her eyebrows in concentration? is it weird to think about billie more than her very stressed and increasingly distant boyfriend?

rosy isn’t sure what she’s feeling. (what else is new.) all she knows is that she likes spending time with billie, that seeing her makes rosy smile in a way that isn’t forced or practiced, that rosy laughs when her voice cracks while billie strums along on ukelele or guitar.

it’s not a crush. rosy just wants to be good friends, that’s all. it’s been a while since she’s had one of those, the sort of friend who would not only drink with her but would also hold her hair back when she got sick. billie could be that, maybe. someone to help her clean up all of her messes. someone to sing with when things get hard. yes. that’s it. that’s all.

22. ................fuck it.

she’s so tired. thomas hasn’t answered her texts for the past seven hours. she was actually civil with fred earlier today, and not just because they were being filmed. he might work at stone court pizza for the rest of his life, but so what? shouldn’t he do what he wants, and not what everyone tells him to do? shouldn’t he be closer to max anyway?

shouldn’t he be happy?

during their video, she’d announced to the camera that her boyfriend will be the successful doctor that fred never could be, that “i’ve made sure of it,” and out of every hollow thing she’s said on camera, that line is one of the emptiest pieces of hidden insecurity and guilt she’s ever said aloud.

except then she also tries to cheer billie up, and that...also doesn’t go as planned.

“i’m sure we’ll be hearing about dillie any day now,” rosy insists and insists and insists, because this is what made her and thomas get together, this is how she comforts herself--if she could, she would live inside a sarah dessen novel and never come out--

billie insists too, except she prefers to stare moodily down at her shoes or into the distance, and says over and over again, through words or frosty silences, that dot could not possibly like her, that they will never be together. rosy wants to argue, but something stops her. it might be how sad billie is, how rosy just wants to make her tea and tell her that things will be alright, that she’s here for her new friend, that she’ll brush her hair out of her face if she’ll let her. rosy doesn’t do any of that. she flounders as billie leaves, feels her face heat up, thinks about how silly and cliche she is, how she really is a romcom personified, how she can’t seem to talk like a normal person about anything--

after filming, she doesn’t want to leave the room for the rest of the day, but she does, at 3:45pm.

rosy isn’t very together anymore. she forgets to brush her hair in the morning. she skips breakfasts. she falls asleep in more than one of her classes. her nail polish is chipped, and she’s running out of her favorite lipstick.

it’s two days until valentine’s day, and instead of going over to thomas’s to help him study, rosy turns off the camera, and she goes to the school’s GSA meeting at 4pm sharp, right around when it ends. she doesn’t-- she can’t see fred there. she can’t. he leaves right after GSA meetings to visit max. she’s safe arriving five minutes after the meeting ends.

rosy has exhausted herself out of excuses. in a movie, this would be the part where the heroine suffers a crisis of faith in her relationship, and a swell of strings would accompany her newfound commitment to the man she loves after a brief but painful period of separation.

it hasn’t been a very painful separation. it hasn’t been easy, and guilt still gnaws at her, but rosy doesn’t feel a magnetic pull to thomas, not like she used to. (not like she wanted to?) there isn’t a spark, not really. she certainly wants to preserve the embers, to at least tend to the kindling, but when rosy cries into her pillow after a particularly difficult fashion merchandising exam, it isn’t entirely for him. she doesn’t ask for his help either, or his comfort, or his safety, or his certainty.

instead, rosy opens the door to the stuffy, cramped, bustling women’s center, and she refuses to look back.

23. she gets there five minutes after the meeting is supposed to end, but she ends up hiding in the moldering bathroom for ten minutes more, struggling to breathe right in the humid air. shit. shit, why is she here? breathe. what is she doing? breathe. this is so stupid, she’s just overreacting--breathe--none of it means anything, it’s not like she belongs here, it’s not like she knows what’s she’s doing, it’s not like--

breathe.

rosy leaves the bathroom, and she feels slightly detached from her body, like she’s floating an inch above it. there’s a buzzing in her ears and a sour taste on the roof of her mouth. her nails dig into her sweaty palms, and she stares a hole into the floor. the room where they all meet is deserted, thank god, except for--

fuck.

“well,” chelsea beatrice says after a slight pause. “this is a surprise.”

rosy chokes out a laugh. this is who she wanted to see, she reminds herself. “yeah, i guess it is.”

chelsea regards her cooly, with a slightly raised, newly-pierced eyebrow. “were you looking for something in the center? i don’t know where everything is, but if you want help finding anything--”

“no. no, it’s not that. it’s, um.” rosy manages a shaky breath. she feels light-headed. god, this is the worst decision she’s ever made. “i...i wanted to come to a meeting. for the GSA. but i forgot what time it was.” a smile wobbles across her face, like an amateur acrobat trying out the tightrope for the first time. “sorry.”

“it’s ok,” chelsea says slowly, giving rosy a slight smile--or is it a smirk? “it’s your first time here, you didn’t know.” a pause. it feels like eternity. rosy wants to run until she can’t think, she wants to run away and never go back to school ever again, but chelsea doesn’t let her, because she says, “so....not to be rude, but.” she snorts a bit. rosy can’t blame her: it’s not like rosy’s been so nice to her. “why’d you want to come?”

rosy swallows. pastes on a smile. it’s so difficult to speak in the deadened air. “i guess...i guess i want--it’s--i’m sorry.” chelsea frowns. “i’m sorry about last semester,” rosy clarifies, and chelsea nods slightly. “i was...a huge jerk, to say the least. i never apologized, so. here i am.”

chelsea tilts her head. “....thanks, i guess. but that’s not the only reason you’re here.”

“no, it isn’t.”

rosy can’t really say anything else right now, and chelsea seems to pick up on it, because after a moments she asks, “so are you going to try to kiss me again or what?”

“what--? no!” rosy splutters, almost shouts--is she serious?--but chelsea just laughs, a loud, echoing wheeze, and rosy wills herself not to go beet-red. she’s just kidding. it’s a joke. calm down, get it together, get it together, get it together-- “i don’t want to do any of that with you. i have a boyfriend. i--what i mean is--” rosy wants to scream. “i was scared, before, ok, you were right. and i got freaked out and i left our dorm to live with my mess of a brother and i thought that was going to fix--” rosy almost says, “i thought that was going to fix me,” but that’s too much melodrama, even for her, so instead she blurts out, “i thought that was going to solve everything, but it didn’t, so--look, my boyfriend and i aren’t doing that great right now, and i just. i don’t know. i thought....that this club might help. with, um. things.”

“with your relationship?”

“no, not really. more just with me. in general.”

“...ok,” chelsea says, and she could’ve teased her, she could’ve said, “it took you long enough,” she could’ve walked away from her shitty coward of a former roommate and never look back, but instead chelsea tells her, “listen, i’ve gotta go now to meet with my advisor, but--hang on a sec.” chelsea rummages through her backpack until she holds out, of all things, a worn book. from the looks of the cover it’s something YA. ash by malinda lo. interesting. “you like fairy tales and stuff, right?”

“yeah,” rosy says, ears burning. god, she really was an awful roommate. “i love them.”

“read this,” chelsea says, “it’s cinderella but, you know, for us.”

rosy isn’t sure what this “us” means, but she takes the book. “thanks, chelsea. really. it means a lot.”

“yeah,” chelsea shrugs, finally looking slightly flustered. she scratches the back of her neck. “it might, uh, help you out? i dunno, i could’ve used it back in the day. anyway, i really have to leave, but maybe...?” chelsea coughs, then says in a rush, “maybe we could hang out another time? as like, weird former roommates and sort-of friends? i’m busy with--well, with everything--but before you up and bolted, i thought that we were getting to be friends, and i wouldn’t mind being your actual friend now.”

rosy blinks hard. “of course! of course, yes, absolutely. i wouldn’t mind being your actual friend too.”

“cool cool cool,” chelsea nods, and hastily adds, “alright, i’ll text you later, and you better respond, and hey, if you want to talk to someone about whatever you’re going through, i can give you people to reach out to, resources and stuff. i’m the secretary for the GSA, for what it’s worth.”

“yeah, yeah that’d all be great.”

“see you later, rosy,” chelsea says, and rosy watches her maybe-friend leave, and for the first time all day, rosy smiles for real.

23. rosy hasn’t opened the book yet. she’s been too busy with homework and applying for internships and preparing for valentine’s day. it’s going to be perfect. the candles she’s chosen are rose-scented, of course, and her nails are a perfect shade of light pink. rosy finally feels like she’s got it together again. valentine’s day has always been her favorite holiday, even when she didn’t have anyone to share it with. if nothing else it gives her an excuse to wear more pink and red than usual, and she gets to eat lots of candy: what’s not to love?

rosy is on a mission. operation: make thomas feel loved. no matter what her doubts are about their relationship, she’s still ready and willing to be there for him, to soothe his worries, to be the girlfriend he needs her to be, at least for today. at least for right now. maybe later they can talk about what they’ve become, what they mean to each other, but before that, rosy turns the camera on, smile in place, and waits for thomas, waits for thomas, waits for thomas--she checks her watch for the fifth time--he’s late again.

when he does arrive, he looks disheveled, sleep-deprived, and more than a little hungover.

rosy does her best to help, she wants so badly to help, but maybe that’s been her problem all along, because he opens his laptop, and he shows her his latest email from his advisor, and rosy’s heart sinks.

she blusters, “i’m just trying to support you.”

operation: make thomas feel loved is not going as planned.

thomas says, slowly and deliberately, “well, you don’t have to anymore.” says it like he’s telling a patient’s family that the illness is terminal. that there’s no coming back from this.

her boyfriend leaves, and the hollywood glamor, the romcom soft lighting--all of it disappears. the swell of strings fades with his retreating footsteps.

rosy is left in the dark with the camera, and the silence, and herself.

she hiccups a laugh that turns into a shaking, full-body sob, the kind that narrows the world to the pressure building in her head, to her burning eyes, to the tightness in her chest. rosy’s right back where she started: she’s fucking terrified.

24. ROSY!!!111!!!!! GUESS WHO JUST GOT A BOYFRIEND!!1!!????? GUESS WHO IS DATING THE FABULOUS, BRILLIANT, HANDSOME MAX GARTH!!!?????? GUESS!!!!!!!!!

there are at least ten sparkle heart emojis in the text that fred sends her.

rosy is happy for him, she is. congrats!!!! see? she’s happy. i think thomas broke up with me. whoops. guess she isn’t so good at keeping things to herself anymore. spending some quality time with gin and tonic the night before would do that.

whAT???? fred responds two seconds later. WHAT DID HE DO!!?? I’M GOING TO HUNT HIM DOWN RIGHT NOW. >:(((((((

he adds a devil emoji, and that, at least makes rosy giggle. no no no, i can deal with it. have fun with max. have a happy valentine’s day. a thought occurs to her, so powerful and so tempting and so simple that she immediately adds, i’ll ask billie to hang out. that will help. seriously fred, i’m fine. have fun with the boy you love. :)

ok, fred replies, ok but if you need anything let me know AND I WILL BEND TIME AND SPACE TO BE THERE AS SOON AS I POSSIBLY CAN.

rosy sends a thumbs-up emoji, effectively ending the conversation, and she stares at her phone. is she ready to talk to anyone in person, let alone billie ladislaw? no. is she ready to deal with being dumped two days valentine’s day? no. does she want to be alone on valentine’s day? hell no. so does she call billie despite everything else? yes.

writing her number on billie’s arm had been the best part of a shitty night. if rosy is certain of anything, it’s that she knows that billy be the best part of another shitty day.

25. “i always assumed i was straight, but--”

hours before she called billie, rosy had started reading ash. she couldn’t really focus on it, but her hands had been shaking too much to actually call billie, so she skim-read instead. she’d actually read it later, and then she’d actually be friends with chelsea, and she’d actually breathe right--

she has to blink a lot to absorb the words, but a few quotes stick out to her through the haze:

“fear will teach you where to be careful.”

“'have you ever wished to be a princess?' ash challenged her. 'that depends,' kaisa said. 'on what?' 'on whether I'd have to marry a prince,' she said and her tone was lighthearted, inviting ash to share her smile.”

“the quiet afternoon opened up between them like a woman stretching her limbs.”

rosy doesn’t remember much else from the book. later, when billie has left, all she thinks about is, “i always assumed i was straight,” (did she really say that out loud? she did! and she had kept talking! why did she do that?) and all she sees is the startled look of loss on dot’s face, and all she hears is billie, after dot practically fled from the room: “explain! explain it to me! tell me why you thought it was a good idea to tell me that now, to say--how could you ever think that i would like you, when you know that i--?”

as usual, billie hadn’t been able to finish her sentences, but that didn’t matter, because rosy had felt the silence scald her anyway.

billie loves dot so much she can’t even say it out loud. billie is so angry with rosy that she can’t even say it out loud.

“i always assumed i was straight--”

rosy doesn’t want to talk about it.

rosy doesn’t want to talk about any of it, and she can’t even forget it for a while: she’s out of wine. and gin and tonic. she’s checked.

later, after rosy’s tried and mostly failed to eat mac and cheese for dinner, after she can’t go to sleep, she texts chelsea, hi! sorry to bother you, but do you want to hang out tomorrow?

rosy cries, rosy screams into her pillow, rosy is glad that fred is staying at max’s for the night, rosy is about to drift into panicked, throat-sore sleep, when chelsea replies, sure! tomorrow’s busy for me but if you want to get lunch i’d be down with that. a second later, she adds, and you’re not a bother.

thanks! rosy texts back, something easing in her chest. see you tomorrow!!

her dreams are full of shouting and angry eyes flashing, but towards the end there’s the smell of fresh-baked cookies.

26. chelsea is in the middle of chewing onto her enormous bite of her panini when rosy finishes giving her a basic outlining of what had happened, but she stops mid-chew to spit out, “wow, she’s an asshole!”

rosy nearly chokes on her soup. “what?”

chelsea chews furiously, swallows, and raises her hand like she’s about to curse a poor villager into dust. “this girl you’ve been talking about! she’s an asshole!”

rosy frowns. “come on, i was being an idiot, and--”

“no you weren’t. you were an idiot when you left our dorm and didn’t return my texts and literally moved in with your brother the next day. you were an idiot when you kept avoiding me at ever opportunity. you weren’t being an idiot when you trusted this girl.” chelsea’s eyebrows scrunch together. “you aren’t an idiot.”

rosy almost burns her tongue on her soup, but she blows on it just in time. tomato soup is her favorite. she used to think that it matched her hair. she used to think a lot of things. “thanks, but i still messed everything up.”

chelsea sighs and takes another bite of her panini. “it doesn’t sound like anyone actually talked about anything except for you. so really they were the ones who messed it up.”

rosy shrugs helplessly. she looks at chelsea and tries not to cry in the middle of the cafe when she tells her what she told dot earlier. her voice is hoarse. chelsea has to lean forward to hear her. “she never really liked me. not many people do.”

this time, she doesn’t smile when she says it.

chelsea sits back and runs a hand through her short hair. she crosses her arms over her chest, and she looks right at rosy. “i do. i like you.”

rosy tilts her head. could that be true? probably not. they don’t really know each other, and this is probably just a pity thing, but. but rosy smiles tentatively. “thanks chelsea.” she cares too much already. why not care just a little more? what does she have left to lose? “i like you too.”

“i’m glad,” chelsea says, a bit gruffly, “because now it’s time for me to talk about how fucking goddamn difficult midterms were, and how my--my grandma is sick, and she says it isn’t bad, but i don’t--she’s been there for me through everything, ok?” before rosy can respond, chelsea whooshes all of the words out of herself. “i showed her my baby teeth before anyone else, and she would always give me the most money for my lost tooth. we’d go apple-picking, and i’d spend hours looking for the best one to give her. she’s a sore loser when she plays board games with anyone else, but she always lets me win. i came out to her before i told anyone else, and she never--she’s always loved me, ok, and i haven’t had that with--with anyone else, and i can’t lose her, i can’t--”

“chelsea,” rosy says, “slow down. tell me from the beginning.”

so chelsea does.

the cancer is back in her grandmother’s lungs. she’d used to be a heavy smoker when she was in her teens. the doctors aren’t sure how serious it is yet.

“and she says it’s going to be fine, but. i don’t know if she is this time. i don’t know anything.”

rosy swallows. her soup is almost done. chelsea’s panini is more than halfway finished. “you don’t have to know everything. i can’t imagine what you’re going through, it must be so hard.” chelsea snorts. “yeah, yeah. it’s hard. she loves you, and you love her, and that’s not going to change, no matter what happens.” chelsea grabs a fistful of napkins and wipes her eyes. “and if you need a ride to the hospital she’s staying at, i can help you out. fred has the car on some days, but i get it most times.”

“thanks,” chelsea says, voice small.

“you’re welcome,” rosy says, too formally, and chelsea chokes on the last of her panini and laughs and laughs.

when rosy goes to bed that night, she doesn’t listen to “so this is love.” she doesn’t reread this lullaby. she reads the first page of ash and then she listens to her heartbeat. she breathes. she lies in the dark and in the silence, and she isn’t so terrified, not anymore.

#mmts #middlemarch: the series #fic #i wrote this in 3 days and im so tired idk if this is good #IT'S A LOT #my fic

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therewillalwaysbeapril · 4 years

Text

Chapter 4: Sixteen Hours

6:30 AM The alarm rang abruptly in the stillness of the morning, a rude shrill noise, splintering our warm, nocturnal embrace and throwing us both into the coldness of the day.

“April, we gotta get up”, I said, mumbling as I shook off the last remnants of sleep. She groaned softly, rolling over and pulling the covers away. “Hey, get up. Geee-tta UGH-PUUUU! Get TU DA CHOPPAH!” I did my terrible Arnold Schwarzenegger impression loudly and poorly, adding in a loud grunt for full effect.

“Argh, I need muh clothes, my boots, my motorcykalll”, she said, in the same bad Austrian accent without opening her eyes. “Come ONN, do it. Do it Nah-OW!”

Stumbling out of bed, vision still blurry, and nearly tripping over the corner of the blanket now fallen to the floor, I reached over and grabbed from the basket the first item of clothing on the pile of clean laundry that we neglected to fold from the previous night. I pulled open the top drawer of her dresser and felt around for a bra. I threw both toward the bed as I made my way to the bathroom. April put on her top as she stood up. Hair a mess and eyes barely open, April exuded a dreamy, other-worldly quality as she floated from the bed to the sink wearing the dark red floral patterned shirt dress I had bought for her the weekend before. I blow dried my hair into a more presentable state and shaved as she washed her face and finished combing her hair.

I packed April’s belongings into her backpack for her, the both of us hurrying downstairs to my car. After stopping by a McDonald’s drive-thru on the way, we ate Egg McMuffins sitting in the early traffic heading toward Downtown LA. I looked at her as she opened a ketchup packet.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be careful!” she said, laughing as she carefully squirted the ketchup onto her hashbrown.

Briskly walking up the parking lot escalators and half-skipping across Pershing Square, April got to the bus stop just in time as the vehicle screeched to a halt. “WESTWOOD/SANTA MONICA” said the display. A quick kiss goodbye and she was off to class.

8:00 AM The office was dark as I stepped out of the elevator. Walking toward my desk, I was greeted by lights flickering on as motion sensors began to stir. Fresh cup of coffee in hand, I left the kitchen for the far side of the floor toward my favorite viewing spot.

The Los Angeles morning was peaceful when viewed from high above. Cars moved slowly down Broadway; I could hear their distant honking noises in the early rush hour. Construction workers below near Third Street walked carrying their equipment, passing by the shops just beginning to open in Grand Central Market. From my hawk’s nest I saw a cyclist zipping down Grand Avenue past the Museum of Contemporary Art, in front of which a food truck was beginning to set up shop. My breath and the steam from my coffee fogged the glass as I stepped closer to look at the crowd of people gathering by the Broad. The early light bathed my city in a warm amber glow, thawing its sleepy commuters as a new workday began. Flecks of gold and saffron twinkled as the dawn bounced from the stirring skyscrapers and automobiles, blinding me. I, too, was beginning to wake as I finished my coffee.

With my headphones on, back at my desk, I continued sketching out the wireframe concepts from the day before. Wireframes are the foundation of plotting out designs for interactive products such as apps and websites. They are a high level way of designing ways in which someone can use a product and the organization for which types of information and interaction appears on which screen, before a designer has to focus on the finer details such as animations, visual appearances, and the style of smaller items such as buttons. Even though the other designers created wireframes in programs I was also familiar with such as Adobe XD or Sketch, I always took great care in sketching out early ideas neatly on paper. I felt there was a purity in shaping ideas away from a computer, a kind of humility in making things with my hands.

8:30 AM The office is still dim as I make myself a second cup of coffee. This was one of those sluggish days; I felt slow to start, and was glad to still be the only person in the office. There was less pressure this way. I returned to my desk and cleaned up my lines with an eraser, reinforcing others with a Sharpie. Boxes with crisscrosses represented images, various other shapes representing icons and call-to-actions. Simple line patterns signified text, clearly showing the underlying grid to the layout. Adding final touches, I drew an outline of an iPhone over all of the screens before using a green colored pen to create the markings that showed how a user interacted and navigated from screen to screen. I felt pride for the cleanliness of my draft, as I never knew whether the second draft in the computer would be made by myself or a different designer. Finished, and satisfied with my work, I walked over to the simple Kanban board on the far wall and moved the task’s corresponding post-it note from the column labeled “in work” to the column labeled “done”.

Aside from a few coworkers from accounting, the floor was still mostly deserted. Sitting back and listening to the rest of Bach’s Goldberg Variations on my headphones, I fidgeted at my desk for a while. Impatient, I walked back over to the job board and grabbed one of the tasks from the column labeled “backlog” and moved it to “in work”. This should keep me occupied, I thought.

10:00 AM Standup was always kind of fun. Normally I have always preferred to work alone, with headphones on, lost in thought as I built designs and mockups, in an almost-meditative state of flow. However, I liked my coworkers very much, and it was also nice to see everyone at the beginning of the day and update one another on our work progress in the morning as we created the pieces of our product together. I enjoyed this kind of organized interaction that afforded me boundaries and space to create.

<Walalala..>, texted April. It was her way of greeting. Warm and cheerful, albeit at times a little silly, it was a greeting that I had come to love. It would also be a salutation I would receive less and less over time until I would not see it at all. <What you doing?>, she added.

<Lol. You should pay attention! I’m pretty tired too. I don’t think I woke up yet>

<Haha, I miss you a little too.>

<Pfft, you still need me to remind you?>

<Ha, you should pay attention in class. Your mom will kill me if you fail because of me>

11:00 AM Sketches spread out on the table before me, I began to create the second round of digital wireframes. As much as I enjoyed sketching, this step was also one of my favorite things to do. The useful aspect having hand sketches was their looseness — from a high level perspective, during this stage there were still so many possibilities. Creating the first digital wireframe versions, despite their inherent roughness, narrowed down those possibilities. To do so felt like taking a camera lens and turning it slowly into focus. At this stage, it was not a crisp focus, but much more recognizable as a coherent direction. The process was therapeutic as it was methodical; moving through it step by step, there was room to make improvements on the fly, perfecting each idea. However, today, my process of refinement would be interrupted by a different task.

There needed to be a version of our project for a new client, said marketing. A simple mockup of our app must be made in the style of our new client, a baseball team. The refinement of the new screen designs would have to wait. Grumbling to myself a little, I closed the program and neatly piled the sketches into my drawer.

<Heyyy, why u ignoring me?>

<Sorry, some other stuff came up at work>

<I’m sorry. Would you feel better if you ate something? What are you gonna get for lunch?>

<Expensive grass, haha>. “Expensive grass” was April’s name for salad. They always cost more than they should, she would remark.

<btw…>

<what’s wrong?> Nothing good ever happened when April said “by the way”.

<We’re not breaking up. We can make this work>

12:00 PM It is lunchtime. Mood now sour, I didn’t feel like leaving the building. After informing my deskmates that I was taking my lunch break, I grabbed a stale bagel from the kitchen and microwaved it with a slice of cheese. Taking that and a diet soda from the fridge, I returned to my viewing corner.

We had only recently moved into the forty fourth floor of the building from six floors above. The company had now grown bigger and the fiftieth floor was not enough space. However, it was only the design, marketing, and accounting teams on this floor, leaving most of it empty. In fact, we only occupied one corner, leaving the other three quiet and deserted. I enjoyed taking walks around the empty areas, sometimes even bringing my cello to work and practicing in one of the empty rooms during breaks. Today though, I only wanted to look outside and think.

Now midday there was visible smog in the Los Angeles air. Protestors were forming on Grand Avenue. I looked closer, curious as to the reason for this group. I could not make out the writing on their signs. A car accident was visible further down on the 2nd Street intersection, blocking it off. The authorities closed off one of the lanes, backing up traffic. A bus awkwardly took up both lanes as it attempted to merge into the available space. An adjacent driver made a rude hand gesture out of his window. I sighed, feeling exhausted as I learned against the wall near the window. I sat on the floor as I drank my soda and looked out of the floor to ceiling window, thinking. The conversation I thought of was not with April, but one with someone else, from a different day, in a different language.

•••

<Yeah, I took her to the airplane museum the other day.>

<Well, she kept asking me to stay over, and then I had to stay with her after she crashed her car. Lately though, she tells me she just doesn’t like it when I’m away. It feels weird, but I’m really happy with her and I love her, so I guess I’m not complaining. She’s been coming to work with me and taking the bus to school too>

<Hey, you should pace yourself. All couples need their space from time to time.>

<Maybe? Sometimes I go to work and five minutes after I leave she texts me that she misses me. I think she’s very sweet.>

<Okay, I’m just looking out for you. What if she turns out to be one of those possessive types?>

<Hey! I knew it!! Is that why you didn’t answer any of my calls or texts last winter in China?>

<Sorry. I guess it’s just weird, what happened between us.>

<Well, nothing happened between us!>

<I know! Well, I don’t know. You are one of my best friends, and what happened affected me very deeply. It may have been nothing to you, but it was definitely something to me.

<I’m sorry about that. I really am. I was as confused as you too. I never meant to be cruel. I hurt you, and I ended up hurting myself too.>

<I’m glad we’ve moved past it and we’re still friends>

<Yes, I remember. And I will keep my word. I just need to figure this out. She’ll come around eventually. I really think the two of you would become great friends.>

<Well, you gotta figure it out eventually, because this is just awkward what you’re doing>

•••

1:00 PM I snapped back to reality as my phone alarm went off. It was time to go back to work.

The caffeine was beginning to wear off. Still debating whether or not I should have a third cup of coffee, I flipped through the Android Material Design Guidelines online, pondering what visual branding treatments were acceptable within Google’s design parameters. Writing down the correct color hex values on a notepad, I began to change colors on app elements in Photoshop, reskinning the interface. The phone beeped again, as another text message arrived from April.

<I’m sorry. I want to stay with you too. But I’m so worried>

<About what?>, I answered.

<Yeah, but what if we DO break up eventually? You’re not a doctor and I’m supposed to marry a doctor.>

I stopped working. Taking off my glasses, I sat back in my chair, rubbing my forehead. I was getting very tired.

, I texted back.

<There’s nothing wrong with what I do. I am a designer and I’m good at it. I make a decent salary and I like my life>

<It’s different>

<Well that’s just your viewpoint. We’re just different, I guess>. I saved my work and walked to an empty conference room.

<Why do you even love me?>, I texted. My thumbs began to sweat. Typing was becoming difficult.

<I’m getting back to work>

I stomped back to my desk, angrily chucking my empty soda can into a nearby wastepaper basket. A couple of coworkers stared.

3:00 PM For the next two hours, I tried my best to focus on creating more animations. More interactions. I compared the mockups I made against the Android and Apple guidelines. So far, so good. Sending the finished mockups back to marketing, I went back to the kitchen and made myself the third cup of coffee.

I chugged the hot beverage, nearly searing my throat. I went back to designing the wireframes. There were only three hours left in the workday, and I originally wanted to have had this perfected at the end of the day.

<Are you done with class yet?>. There was no answer from April.

Frustrated, I placed my phone face down on the table and returned to the designs. These have to get done, I thought. So little time. Fuming, I angrily threw the boxes together on the computer screen, connecting the button hotspots together as violently as someone could inside a digital space.

“Hey are you ok?”. It was Julie, who sat across from me behind my monitor. “I can hear you breathing from here”

“I’m fine”, I said. I sat back in my chair and looked at what I’ve made. It was sloppy and nowhere near the level of detail that I have been known for around the office.

“Take a break man. I just got an email that we have until the end of the week for these screens now”

“Oh…”

“Yeah. You can just chill”

“I think I’m gonna take a walk then.”

4:00 PM I looked at my watch as I waited in the elevator. Who does she think she is, I thought. So what if I’m not a doctor? Life can’t only be about status. I was so mad. That is such a shallow way of thinking! And it wasn’t me who started all this. I was just minding my own business working. She was the one who had to bring up Taiwan, and her parents’ crazy expectations for who she should be dating.

I walked outside briskly in the shade of the tall buildings. It was much louder now that I left the lobby. A street performer was beating a drum across the intersection. A crazy person was yelling about the end of times on the other corner. Good. Noisy enough that no one could see how angry I was.

And I hated the way she texted. How am I supposed to always be at her beck and call? I have a job to do; I can’t be there to simply answer every time she worries about crazy hypotheticals. I was doing fine today, I should’ve simply not answered. And now that she’s finished ruining my day, she’s stopped texting and has gone back to whatever she’s doing leaving me to pick up the pieces. Every single month, we have to have some fight about something completely stupid like this. Every single month —

Oh.

April had complained about being tired. April had experienced stomach pains during class. I counted the days since the last time I remembered similar complaints. There were many things I remembered for her. April could be so forgetful.

“Twenty-seven, twenty-eight….”, I counted in my head. I knew what she was going to need.

I stopped at the Rite Aid on 5th and Broadway. Quickly making my way through the aisles, I picked up a pack of Ibuprofen, a box of what appeared to be feminine pads, and a bottle of water. The cashier handed me the items in a paper bag after I made my purchase. Strolling further south, I began to think about what transpired.

Did she really mean all that she said? Perhaps a deeper question was, WHICH of what she said did she actually mean? You can’t tell someone you love them for who they are but also want to change them, I thought. Girls just say crazy things during their time of month right? I checked my phone.

Still no answer.

This is bad, I thought. Perhaps I was too harsh. Her car is in working condition. She chose to take the bus because she genuinely wanted to spend time with me. And now she’s probably on the bus home, in pain. All for me. I’m such a jerk, I thought.

Ducking into Bottega Louie on 7th, I bought a box of half dozen French macarons. They were rather pricey, but came in a beautiful box and were, I had heard, delicious. The small rigid box was not unlike jewelry packaging, with beautiful calligraphy and gold speckles dotted throughout its powder purple surface. It was a small gift that was sure to brighten up anyone who was having a less than perfect day.

6:30 PM The workday was now over as I closed my work laptop and packed away my things. The bus from UCLA arrived as I waited on a bench in Pershing Square.

“Hey what took you so long?”, I asked as I took April’s bag from her.

“I had the most horrible day!” she said.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize I sounded so mean—

“No, not you! My period started and I forgot to bring pads so I had to use tissues. And my phone died, and then the bus had to take a detour. So I needed to get off and wait for another bus, but I couldn’t use Google Maps and I’m so tired and I just want something to eat”

“Well, first things first I guess”

I handed her the box of macarons and discreetly showed her what was in the paper bag. “Let’s find a bathroom,” I said.

She looked into the paper bag. She looked at me. She started giggling, the happiest I’ve seen her all week.

“What? What is it?”

“Have you never bought pads before?”

“Well, no, but I figured you needed them. Was I right?”

“Those are panty liners, not pads!”

“Oh.”

“It’s okay, I’ll be alright. Cmon, let’s eat”

•••

8:30 PM After April had a chance to change, I took her to a nearby Hong Kong styled cafe. It would be nice to have some porridge, she said.

As we sat down and waited for our food, by reflex I folded April’s chopstick wrapper into an origami chopstick stand, as I have always done since our first date. I looked out the window into the dark.

The San Gabriel traffic outside was a lot calmer compared to the city. It was quiet and I could just make out the sounds of crickets. A high school couple walked out of the boba shop across the street, laughing to themselves, carefree. An elderly man picked out a newspaper from a box near the entrance. I felt a soft caress on my forearm.

April handed me a crudely folded flower made from a chopstick holder.

“I’m sorry about today. I keep forgetting how to fold that fancy origami, but I want to thank you for taking care of me.”

She smiled the familiar funny smile.

•••

9:30 PM As we walked in the darkness at a nearby park, digesting our meal, I stayed quiet. How can I make all nights like tonight?, I thought. Is there really an expiration date to our happiness?

Perhaps reading my mind, April said, “I don’t know what we’ll do if I really have to leave…”

I looked at her and kissed her forehead.

“Whatever”, she added. “If I have to go back to Taiwan, I guess I’ll just get another boyfriend, and it’ll be a doctor this time! HA HA!”

I did not laugh.

I let go of her hand and walked a few paces ahead, sullen.

“I’m kidding!” April grabbed my arm. “I really do love you, alright?”

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