#this kid comes along and somehow manages to glue them all together in a way that Wymack always dreamed of happening but never imagined could | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

finelinevogue · 3 years

Note

Obsessed with your imagines you so when they have 3 kids and they’re all older! What about one where Harry has to have a sex talk with his kids OR y/n and Harry come home to find their kids throwing a party? I think both could be super funny

this has me excited cause i love the idea of them throwing a party when y/n and harry are at date night!! (does contain smut)

oli - 21, felix - 19, belle - 16

“We’re so fucking screwed.”

“Belle, for the millionth time, chill the fuck out.”

But how the fuck was anyone supposed to be chill when there was a full-on house party, close to being a rave, occurring in their house? A house that was their mum’s life work. A house party that their parents new nothing about. A night where absolutely anything and everything could go wrong.

The three siblings stood at the bottom of the stairs, in front of the door, looking around at the scenes occurring between each room. There were girls whispering to each other on the sofas, there was a group of guys playing beer pong in the kitchen and there was a large group of people hanging around by the pool and some even taking a dip. What had meant to be a low-key party had managed to turn into the whole neighbourhood plus the next town over. It was completely overboard.

“Who’s idea was this again?” Belle asked, clearly not understanding the full reasoning behind a full fledged party in their house.

“All of ours.” Oli responded, when in reality it was really just his, and a bit of Felix, idea.

“Nope. I’m not getting grounded because you two dickheads wanted to be rebels.” Belle put her hands up as if to stop this whole situation. She did not want to be a part of this and yet had somehow got screwed up with it all.

“So what are you going to do?” Felix asked.

“Anywhere where this doesn’t have my name stamped all over it.” Belle gestured around her, all of them groaning when they heard something smash from a nearby room. They were actually going to be locked up forever after this.

“Belle, mum and dad are out for the night. Dad said he booked a hotel for them to stay over at, so they won’t even be back until tomorrow morning.” Oli explained, trying to calm down his very nervous sister.

“Yeah, plus if you’re so insistent on leaving why did you get so dressed up?” Felix did have a point. Belle had gone through the effort tonight to be looking as best she could. She was sporting a little black dress with black fishnet tights and her trusty Doc Martens. It was a very colourful outfit, as she would explain. Belle had even gone to the effort of adding glue-on gems to her makeup. Whereas her brothers were just wearing sweaters and trousers and trainers. Typical teenage boys.

“I’ll bet that’s why.” Oli nodded behind Belle and smirked as he watched his little sister turn around.

Megan Dover. Belle’s high school crush and cleverest person in the year. Felix and Oli caught Belle blush when their little sister looked at Megan, waving to her cutely. Belle was a lot more introverted than Megan, but Belle didn’t mind. She admired that Megan was so outspoken and kind and smart, but too bad they didn’t truly know of Belle’s existence. At least, not really.

“Alright fine, i’ll stay, but just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Belle rolled her eyes and then walked off in the direction of the kitchen - if she was ever going to speak to Megan she’d need at least 4 shots in her system.

“Be safe little B.” Oli waved her off and then the two brothers looked at each other knowingly. “Is Heather here?”

“Not yet no, think she’s coming with the girls in a bit.” Felix checked his phone as his brother questioned him. “What about Bea?”

“She’s upstairs.”

“Why? I thought we weren’t allowing anyone upstairs?”

“Dude she’s my girlfriend, I think she gets a pass.” Oli patted his brothers back and then saunters up the stairs two at a time to go and find his girlfriend and reintroduce her to the party.

Another smash of something glass sounding came from the kitchen, along with a turn of screams and mumbles of oops.

“Fuck, we are so screwed.” Felix muttered under his breath as he made his way to the kitchen to clean up whatever was now broken.

••••

Meanwhile, you and Harry were basking in each other’s presence at a fancy new restaurant downtown called Caste Inn.

Harry decided it was time for you to have a treat and so was taking you out for dinner and then retreating to a fancy hotel, where he would not let you rest for the whole night. He was already being really handsy this evening, but you kept swatting his prying hands away because you were in public.

“Babe, c’mon i’m dying here!” He whined as you swatted his hand away from the skirt of your dress for the fifth time since mains. You were lucky you were in a crescent shaped booth so it was hard for anyone to see what was going on underneath the table, but you still felt so exposed.

“Quit it Harry.” You sniped, returning your attention back to the desserts menu. The restaurant was that kind of place where the portions are sparrow sized and yet cost you as much as it would to donate a kidney, so there was no surprise that you were still hungry and had room for dessert.

“Just wanna love on my wife.” He pouted next to you, keeping his arm slunk around the back of the booth to continue to caress your far shoulder delicately.

“We’re in the middle of a restaurant, you’re crazy.” You snickered, trying your hardest to focus on the desserts; Tiramisu, Chocolate Orange Gateau, Pecan Pie, Creme Brulé and an endless list of more mouthwatering yumminess.

“Fucking crazy for you, yes.” He kissed your cheek once, twice and then bit it too on the third, making you moan slightly at the exposure of it all. “You used to let me do this kind of thing all the time, what happened hey?”

“I got old.” You laughed, but really you felt saddened by the thought of it. You were approaching your forties and you felt as though time wasn’t on your side anymore. Life was all flying by so fast and it was becoming so hard to stop it for a moment to see how beautiful it all is. Harry could tell you were faking your happiness in that moment and he hated that you felt this way. He loved you. He would worship the ground you walk upon. Nothing would ever be too much of an ask for him if it meant keeping your happy. Yes, you were getting older, but it didn’t mean that was a bad thing. At least you were getting older together and becoming maturer together.

“Talk to me, love.” He gently asked, knowing there was something on your mind that was bothering you.

“I just… I just feel like i’m getting older—”

“You are love, yes.” He interrupted you, which earned him a slap to the thigh. He didn’t let your hand go though, leaving it to rest on his tight thigh.

“And then suddenly that’s going to be it. No more Y/N.”

“Don’t say things like that to me, please love.” Harry shook his head, squeezing your hand a little tighter.

“And I feel like i’ll have regretted not doing so many things. Like I won’t have lived my life.”

“Things like?”

“Things like riding a motorcycle with you. Things like staying up all night with a bottle of wine and a good bit of Elvis. Reckless things, like skinny dipping or crashing a high school party. Things like, having my husband finger fuck me in a public restaurant. I remember when everything seemed so free and chaotic and I loved it. Now I feel stuck.”

“Stuck how, love?” Harry leaned in closer to you, his eyes full of love and determination because if that’s what you wanted he could give you all those things - especially the orgasm.

“I’m a mum, H. You’re a dad. We’re parents,m. Good ones at that. Aren’t we supposed to be grown up and responsible now? We don’t get to take risks anymore, because we have a family right? God, I sound so pathetic.” You sighed and put the menu down, not thinking about which pudding you wanted to fill yourself up with anymore.

“Babe. If you want to ride a motorcycle and go skinny dipping then let’s fucking do it. Why are you so afraid to hold back? Because we have kids, because darling believe me when I tell you - however much it disturbs me - our kids are out doing just as many reckless and crazy things as we used to do. Maybe we should fuck the prestigious system and show our children, all parents - including us - that adulthood, parenthood, doesn’t define the choices you make. We do.”

You couldn’t stop looking at your husband, drinking in every last drop of his beauty. His words filled your heart with rose petals and chocolates, warming you up delightfully. God, you were so lucky to have him. He helped you through the most toughest of times and continued to stick with you, not because a ring says he has to, but because he loves you. Undeniably and irrevocably loves you.

That was all it took for you to comply.

Quickly, you moved one of your legs under the table cloth so it draped over Harry’s thighs and made an opening between your legs. The cloth hid everything well, along with the dirty napkins that sat upon your laps.

“Wh- what are you doing love?” Harry asked confused, after not hearing a word back from you for his earlier speech.

“Harry I love you, I do, but will you just shut up and fuck my pussy with your fingers already.” You whispered wetly against his ear with your lips. He groaned at the words and tightened his grip around your leg, widening the gap he had to work with.

His hand slid underneath your dress slowly, squeezing the flesh of your thighs in tease, until he got to where your panties were. Or at least where they should be.

“Shit, you’re not wearing any pants?” Harry asked quizzically, pushing his fingers against your glistening pussy and feeling just how ready you were for him.

“Oh fuck!” You muffled out before Harry quickly slapped your slit because you were making too much noise, which only then made you squeal a bit more. He slapped your cunt hard enough the second time for you to get the memo that you needed to be quiet - but fuck was that a challenge. As much as you can be quiet, you just don’t like to be. You like knowing that your moans and whines turn Harry in even more, just as much as you love hearing his.

“Fucking hell, soaked already.” His fingers toyed with the folds of your cunt, feeling how puffy they were between his ringed fingers. “Gotta be quiet for me okay?” Just as he started pushing his delicious fingers inside of you, the waiter turned up at the table with a cheery face and not a bouncing clue what was happening between the two of you.

“Desserts?” He asked politely with his charming smile, but you didn’t see it for too long before having to close your eyes shut at the sudden movement of Harrys fingers. He wasn’t stopping on the waiters behalf, in fact he was more forcefully going for it. He moved his fingers in circles inside of you, thumbing over your clit in the way he knew you desired most. He was insatiable.

Reckless.

“No, just the bill please. Need to take my wife home to take care of some things.” Harry spoke for you both, not understanding why he was being so open with the amount of information he was giving away. But fucking hell you didn’t care because his fingers were providing you pleasures beyond reason.

“Yes Sir. I’ll only be two minutes.” He smiled again before he was gone, taking the menus with him.

“Here that baby?” Harry whispered into your ear, moving his fingers more freely now there was less of an audience, “you’ve got two minutes to cum.”

“Wha—”

Questioning his authority would have to wait, for Harry got to work very quickly and perfectly. His fingers slicked in and out of you so erotically and if it wasn’t for the live music and loud chatter of the room, the sounds of his fingers driving in and out of you would be heard by everyone. His fingers curled to all the right places, touching the most sensitive parts of your walls and hell did it feel blissful.

“I’d say you’ve got about a minute left baby, and I think you can cum for me before then. Can’t you? Or am I not good enough for that kind of release anymore?” Harry taunted you and pressed wet kisses to your ear. You were too lost in euphoric paradise to notice, or even care, whether anyone could see or was watching you both. You were too focused on your husband. Your Harry.

“N-no. I can cum. You’re so good - shit - so g-good.” You stammered out, breathless from the air stolen from your lungs because of this erotic moment. This was so bad behaved of you both that you were starting to get a high off of it.

“Cum for me then baby. Do it. I’ve got you.” He kissed your lips to capture the moan that trailed off your tongue as you reached your high. You felt so high and yet so safe. Harry steadied you as your legs shook and kissed you senseless, to quieten your whines. He admired that you had been so willing for this and he would be lying if he said he didn’t have a raging hard-on right now.

“I love you,” you raced out quickly, “I love you.”

“I love you, Y/N.” He kissed your lips again and withdrew his fingers from your dripping cunt. You picked up a napkin but he quite quickly took it away from you, throwing it to the other side of the table.

“What are you doing?” You whisper shouted, needing to clean yourself up.

“More like what are you doing?”

“Cleaning my mess.” You said frustratedly.

“Leave that to me.” He spoke whilst holding intense eye contact with you, bringing his fingers that were coated in your arousal to his lips and sucking them dry. Every last drop worked its way into his mouth and he salivated at the taste - the smell.

“Harry—”

“The bill Sir.” The waiter interrupted you without knowing. Harry took out his wallet and used his card on the card machine, before signing his name on the cheque as if to affirm that he has paid.

“Thank you.” Harry spoke kindly, completely different to how he was with you all but two minutes ago.

“Thank you Sir, Ma’am. Have a lovely rest of your evening.” And he wad gone again with his smile.

Harry turned to you with the largest grin on his face, “Oh we will.”

••••

“Oli stop eating the leftover lasagne it’s for mums lunch!”

Belle was rushing around trying to chill everything down. The party was so out of control that even Oli and Felix were wasted. Megan was blowing hot and cold with her too, so she had no idea where she stood with them.

People were everywhere. Too many people that it was becoming claustrophobic. Felix was currently playing beer pong with a group of his friends, Heather attached at his hip, whilst Oli was sitting on the kitchen countertop eating cold lasagne. The boy was like chuffing Garfield. Belle was doing her best to keep calm, but as the night progressed it started to become worse and worse as it got harder to control.

As Belle turned to leave the kitchen, her brother clearly not listening to her, she bumped into someone. Kyle. Fucking Kyle. The guy who had obsessed over her to the point where Harry was seriously considering getting a restraining order on him to protect his daughter. He was a straight A creep and Belle hadn’t even realised he’d been invited to this party. Then again, over half of these people had most definitely not been invited.

“Oh hey Isabelle.” He stressed her whole name, knowing how much she hated it. Well, she didn’t hate her name she just hated him saying her name.

“Go away Kyle.”

“But I just got here.”

“And now you can just leave. Party’s ending anyways.” Belle stood her ground, but her hands were shaking from being even remotely close to this guy. He was disgusting to the point where if you were stuck between having to choose between being with him or eating mouldy cheese, you’d eat the cheese on a fucking silver platter.

“Looks quite alive to me.”

“Well i’m shutting it down and you’re going to leave. Now.”

“You need to liven up Belle.” Kyle chuckled through his nose, making him look scary as he towered over Belle, “let me help you.” He leaned forwards to grab her arm but she was quick to push him away.

“No! Leave me alone!” Belle shouted, trying to dodge around him but he was quicker. He grabbed her arm tight and pulled her back to him, chest touching chest. “Get off me Kyle.” Belle squirmed in his hold, which only made Kyle happier - the creep.

“C’mon Bella, live a little.”

“My name’s not Bella and I told you to get the fuck off of me.” Belle pulled back with all her might, whilst kicking him square in the balls - probably hard enough so he’ll never be able to have children - and then drove her knee up to crack his nose - successfully. Damn, that felt good. Heavily badass, actually.

“You fucking psycho!” Kyle held his nose and his balls in pain, straightening himself up as if to launch himself with fury at Belle. Luckily for her the outburst between the pair had caught attention of people - including Oli and Felix.

Oli was quick to step in front of Kyle, Felix just behind him. “You dare lay a fucking finger on my sister and I swear to you you’ll regret it.” Oli threatened, fists curled tight at his sides.

Heather came to hug Belle, comforting as she cried through the after shock of the situation. She’d been so brave and handled herself so well though. “You okay?” She kindly asked.

“Y-yeah.” No.

Everyone was now watching. The music had been muted to the point where you could tell it was playing but you couldn’t tell which song it was. Friends of Oli and Felix were standing close by in case things got messy, which normally only happened between the two brothers and not this way. Doors could be heard opening and shutting as people came in and out from places to watch the debacle occur between the hosts of the party and the unwelcome visitor. Oli and Felix knew they had to be careful though, because one wrong video and it could badly effect their dad’s career. Belle shook in Heathers arms and wished this nightmare of an evening to be over.

“Oh the whore’s not worth it anyways.” Kyle laughed, rolling his eyes as he pointed towards Belle.

“The fuck did you just call my daughter?”

Oh fucking shit balls.

“Dad?” Belle asked warily, seeing his dad stood in the doorway of the front door, her mum standing close behind him with her hand tightly clutched to his. As much as Belle was terrified that her parents had busted them, she also felt safe in their presence.

“Oh and here comes perfect-dad-of-the-year Harry Styles to the rescue.” Kyle teased which made Felix move forward in protest of his words.

“Fix.” Harry sternly called his name, making his son stop and look towards his dad who was shaking his head with a soft smile. Harry walked over towards Belle first, you still clutched tightly to him. “You alright?” He asked sincerely, not looking cross or disappointed at all. Belle nodded quickly and kept her head pressed to Heather’s chest. Harry turned to see his boys, raising his eyebrows to wordlessly ask them the same question to which they nodded too.

Harry dropped your hand, leaving you to stand with your sons, and left your forehead with a kiss before making his way to Kyle. “You okay boys?” You asked again, even though you knew Harry just asked.

“Yeah. Are you mum?” Oli asked, coming to wrap his arm around his mums neck to comfort her. He was so kind and thoughtful, just like his dad.

“Listen up, Kyle.” Harry started, keeping a good distance between him and the boy, “If you ever come near my family again i’m ordering a restraining order. That’s not a threat, it’s a promise. If you break that order you’ll be going to jail. Big league jail too. Again not a threat, a promise. So you’re going to leave my house, this property in its’ entirety and go home to sit in your room and think about whether you would prefer to be in a prison cell instead. Do you understand?”

Okay, you’d be lying if you said his authority didn’t turn you on.

“Y-yeah.” Kyle mumbled pathetically.

“I said do you understand?” Harry repeated again, clearly not satisfied with the answer given.

“Yes Mr Styles.” Kyle said more surely, before scramming from the house, from the party and from the neighbourhood.

“Now everyone out of my house before I call the police.” Everyone knew how that was not an empty threat and dashed out of his house. Some looked at him in awe, because this was probably their once and only chance of being in the presence of the Harry Styles. He sighed as he walked to the kitchen, leaning against the kitchen counter to think.

“Should we—” Belle started to talk but you cut her off.

“No, hunny. Let me go talk to your dad. You lot,” referring to your children and girlfriends who’d kindly stayed behind in support, “can go fetch some bin liners and start cleaning this all up.” You pointed around to the mess that was your house, before walking off to the kitchen.

You looked around at the mess. A broken vase. Litter everywhere. Half-drunken drinks left on the table. Bottle openers you definitely didn’t own before tonight. Trousers? You couldn’t help but giggle at the surrounding sight.

“What’s got you laughing?” Harry asked, still in his fancy shoes and fancy coat, you still in your fancy heels and your fancy coat. Yet, you were both standing in what looks like a garbage dump site. Harry moved his hand away from his face and looked at you with a blank expression.

“You were right!” You laughed.

“Your reaction as if that’s a bloody miracle, love, which kind of an ego crush, but continue.” He rolled his eyes and you rolled yours in response. You clicked your way over to him and wrapped your arms around his waist, he kept his wrapped around his own obviously still closing himself off.

“Our kids are being reckless and crazy.” You recalled dinners earlier conversation, smiling up at him in admiration.

“I didn’t actually mean it, it was just a quick way to make you feel better.” He groaned in frustration.

“Well gee thanks babe!” You laughed at the whole irony of this situation. “Harry, babe, look at me,” you had to used your hand to turn his cheek to face you, stroking his cheek to calm him, “adulthood - parenthood - doesn’t define the choices we have to make. We do. And our children, apart from that last little bit, seemed like they had the most freeing and most brilliant night yet! Let them be reckless H. Let them make mistakes. Just because this happened doesn’t make us bad parents, and it doesn’t make us bad parents if we decide no punishment—”

“Ha like that’s going to happen!” Harry cut you off and you glared at him to just shut up.

“Just shut up, you oaf. Let the kids live while they’re young.”

“You did not just reference one of my songs.” Harry looked to the ceiling as he smiled widely, before shortly laughing at how cheesy that was. “Oh my god Y/N!”

“What? Was is that bad?”

“Yes, babe. Yeah it really was.” He looked back down at you to see you smiling and he couldn’t help but cup your cheeks and kiss you silly. His perfect lips fit yours and you tasted him until you couldn’t breathe. “I love you.”

“I love you. Now go help clean up.” You ordered him, making him look at you confused.

“What the hell have I done to deserve this?”

“You booked the hotel for next weekend instead of this weekend you div. Now go.” You smacked his backside and he strolled back over to you and pushed you into the counter. You gasped at the sudden motion.

“Do that again and let’s see what happens.” He whispered dangerously against your lips.

“Go clean up and then see what’s waiting in our bedroom.” You bit your lip and tugged Harry’s hand to under your dress, giving him only a slight feel of how wet you were before letting his hand go and walking away.

“Kids, hand me a bloody bin bag. Now!”

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dawsons-justice · 3 years

Text

He Promised, You Trusted.

Part Two to “I Promise, You Trust”

A/N: Reader is between 14-17, so this is a Father Figure!Antonio x Reader. No romance, 100% platonic.

TW: Nothing horribly graphic, some mild angst, but mostly just to lead up to the fluff

Masterlist

It sure was cold outside. Chicago had been cold, but Minnesota somehow was colder. Your aunt had apologized she couldn't pick you up from school but it wasn't really her fault. She had to pick up some extra shifts to keep up with the bills. You're just glad she let you stay with her. 8 months ago, you really had no idea where you would end up.

8 months ago...

Detective Dawson ran off to make some calls, leaving you to your own thoughts. You noticed the worried glances of his coworkers watching you from the unit floor. You didn’t know any of them, they were all sorta intimidating in their own way, well, except for the woman with brown hair, she looked nice. It just felt better to block them out and focus on the mug in your hands. The hot chocolate had gotten cold in the time it took you to process everything and really you haven’t truly processed anything.

Dawson came back in the room, his face muddled with several emotions. There was some stress, determination and anger but you made out the sympathy on his features most of all. Most people don't want sympathy, but you were just glad someone was caring enough to do so. Trailing behind him was another cop, older, you'd seen him before, just didn't know his name.

"You got anyone we can call?" Antonio asks. you had to wrack your brain a bit. It hadn’t occurred to you that this would be important. "I have an aunt. I haven't talked to her in years. My dad and her don't get along."

The two men exchanged a glance. And you understood now. If you didn't find a home yourself, they'd have to put you in a group home. That was not good. You had heard stories, everyone has. Group homes only provide shelter to trouble. If you ended up there who knows what would happen to you after. You hadn’t thought this through, this was a bad idea. In some sort of a desperate plea, you grab the detective’s hand as he’s about the leave with the other guy.

"Wait no no... I can't live in a home. I can't. I'd rather go home to my dad. Please no." Panic evident in your voice. His face softens, kneeling down to your height. He was just going to try to comfort you. You forced yourself to remember whatever he says can’t change the truth. He isn’t the one making the rules. You’re not naive.

"Hey, hey kiddo. Not there yet, let's give your aunt a ring and see if we can get ahold of her. You got a name?" His voice calm, if he was worried you really couldn’t tell now, unlike when he first returned. You gave her name, not knowing anything besides she lived in St. Paul. But they were cops, you figured they could track her down.

The other guy, Voight, left, you heard him call out to someone named Halstead to run your aunt's name. Antonio didn’t move, just kept holding your hand looking around as if he wasn’t. The fact we seemed unbothered by the comforting gesture put you more at ease, yet you still were struggling with this.

"B-but what if she doesn't want me?"

There was a look of disbelief in his face, as if you were made of solid gold. It was fake and you knew it, still, it was comforting. "We're gonna figure it out, ok? I'll tell her myself what a great kid you are."

"I'm sorry."

The detective didn’t have to say anything, but you knew he deflected your apology. Somehow you just knew the minute you said it what his response was going to be. He didn’t feel bothered. And on top of this it was going to work out. He would make sure it worked out.

And it did. Given the explanation of the situation, your Aunt was happy to take you in. Antonio pulled some strings and you spent one night with his colleague Kim Burgess (the woman with the brown hair) before your aunt took over custody. In less than 48 hours you were on your way to Minnesota with a bag you packed and your dad had no clue. For once you knew there was at least one person who was worth trusting in this world.

The snow crunched below your feet. It was only another mile or so to your aunt’s place. The roads were pretty clear. Much of the snow had been packed down for days, but a recent heatwave melted and refroze the roads to solid ice. The deceiving snow was only an inch or two thick on top of the slick icy layer beneath. So, when you hear tires squeal, it is not in any way surprising. You were learning to drive yourself; ice roads were something that even your aunt had trouble managing let alone teach you how to navigate. You had respect for anyone who was able to successfully manage those roads in two-wheel drive. Whipping around, there’s not a two-ton car sliding towards you as you had expected, planning to dive roll into the snow. There’s a black van with a guy in a ski mask running towards you.

Crap.

Taking advantage of the ice, you threw your backpack at him, hoping he’d lose his balance and walk onto the more slippery road. Yet things do not go to plan as he easily recovers and continues to pursue you, reaching you and wrapping his arms around your waist. You fought. You screamed, wailed, bit, flailed, kicked and every other defensive action your subconscious could think of. It didn’t work, he was just too much bigger than you. You were thrown into the back of the van.

no no no no no this can’t be happening.

You considered yourself a calm person, but that was before you were tied and gagged in the back of a van. The darkness seemed to only escalate your fears as you had a blank canvas to imagine your worst nightmares becoming reality. "Please, just let me go” you must have said it 40 times before something heavy hit your head.

Things faded in and out. Darkness and light fought a battle, but you could never really tell if you could see or not, it was all just shadows. The nausea was also coming in waves, paired with the throbbing sensation on the back of your head. You had been pistol whipped. But of course, you didn’t know that. The sheer terror of the entire situation still had you disoriented. You couldn’t feel the time pass, most people know what a minute or five minutes feels like, but you couldn’t focus. It was all too much.

When the van doors slide open you hear the guy who grabbed you talk to whoever was driving. “I still can’t believe this guy.” His gruff voice scoffed, close by.

“Well, he had the money, who are we to judge.”

“Guy? Had someone hired them to take me? Was I about to be sold or something?”

You’re embarrassed to say the next voice you heard brought you half a millisecond of comfort, it was misplaced. “You had to put a sack over her head?” It was your dad. How? Better question why would he ask that question though he had no emotion in his voice.

The men and your dad talk as you wrestle with this entire shock. Suddenly someone picks you up and carries you over their shoulder. You figured it was guy who grabbed you, but feeling that whoever was holding you gently lowered you to the floor, you made the new assumption it was your dad. The blindfold and gag came off in a quick motion. You were met with the hollow face of your father in some sort of abandoned room. He gave a sickening smile, one that brought no relief with it. “I brought you back sugar!”

“Dad, let me go.”

He nodded and started to undo your restraints. It couldn’t be this easy. Taking a moment, he was preoccupied with removing the duct tape glue from your arms, as if he cared, you jumped up, running across the room to open the metal door, but it was locked.

“Open the door, dad.”

“Y-you’ll just leave.” He whimpered, face looking offended.

This wasn’t your dad. The eyes were too hopeful and the demeanor was too caring. This was you dad having some sort of a mental breakdown. The pieces came together as you watched the tremors in his hands. Not knowing the man in front of you felt more terrifying than the man you ran away from. Before, you knew somewhere buried deep in his subconscious he would never seriously harm you beyond some bruises. But you stared into eyes you didn’t recognize. It was entirely possible he was going to kill you. All of that mess 8 months ago just to end up dying in Chicago and nobody knows about it.

But that’s where you were wrong.

Within a 25 mile radius…

“Detective Dawson,”

The somewhat uncaring police deputy at St. Paul started running down the situation. There wasn’t much to tell. Your backpack was found in a snowbank near some blood in the snow with you nowhere to be found. Your aunt had been adamant that the deputy at the front desk reach Antonio. And of course, the detective roped his unit into the situation. Voight made it a priority. It didn’t take a psychologist to see that Antonio cared about you, he cared about all his teen CIs. They were his secondary kids. He would find you, even if he hadn’t promised you to do so. He promised himself. When word had come in that your dad had been behind the entire situation it was not much of a shock. A man with a past of petty crime and domestic abuse with mental health concerns did seem like a high probability suspect. He had also rented out a storage container on the industrial side of town. Antonio and his team suited up. He was going to end this situation here and now.

“CHICAGO PD OPEN THE DOOR”

In a frenzied craze, your father throws you to the floor. It would make sense for him to run, but logic wasn’t a key factor right now. His foot goes to your neck and the gun points to your head. The gun must have been on his back, you hadn’t seen it until now.

I don’t want to die.

Not like this.

Not here.

Please no.

Please.

Bursting through the door you make out several people with weapons drawn on your dad. Light floods the dark room leaving the two of you partially blind, yet the tension still filled the air.

“LET HER GO.” It wasn’t a request. It was an order. Regardless, your neck was still being crushed. Air was slowly waning from your lungs. And then it wasn’t. In an instant you felt his foot roll out from over you, giving you a chance to scramble away.

“Y/N, Y/N, it’s ok. We’re police.”

And that was likely the only time anyone from your side of town was happy to hear that phrase. But still, you couldn’t quite comprehend it. It was a full mess of tears, screaming, wailing and shaking. You had been mere seconds from death by gun or choking, you couldn’t just suck it up. Not even you were that badass. Nonetheless, the cops weren’t getting anywhere with calming you down.

“Call an ambo.” Calls another voice, a woman. “Tonio, you ok?”

“Yeah” And under normal circumstances you would have connected the dots, but as it has already been overly reiterated, you were not stable right now. The only thing you could register was the familiar hand on top of yours gently squeezing your arm below.

“Shhh shhh, it’s ok kiddo, we got you. He’s gone.”

Hold it, you know that voice.

And what would you know, you finally grasped it. Staring down at you is Detective Dawson, once again saving your neck, literally. It was probably against some rule, but you just buried your head in his shoulder trying to block out everything outside. He let it slide, just holding you there, seemingly not in any rush to move you till the paramedics arrived. In time you realized the other officer trying to calm you down had been Burgess, but you just hadn’t recognized her. You’re in pain, but not horrendous amounts, must be the adrenaline. Regardless, Antonio calls another officer, Atwater, to carry you outside to the ambulance. Before you know it, the ambo is driving away from the scene to Chicago Med, leaving the Intelligence Unit to deal with the aftermath including Dawson.

Sitting in the ER, you wait for test results to return on your head scan. More had happened in the last 12 hours than in the last 8 months. You realized how much you liked the simplicity and (relative) safety of Minnesota, but now you’d at least carry pepper spray. You’re pulled from your thoughts as you see Dawson peak from the side of the curtains. You had not felt too lonely or afraid before given the officers stationed outside your room, but seeing him made you feel better.

“Hey kiddo, how’s the neck?” he smiles, moving into the room slowly as if he was trying not to scare you.

You smile weakly, still exhausted. “Alright, considering.” You noticed tape on the base of his neck on one side extending underneath his shirt where you couldn’t see. “What happened?”

“I might be getting a little long in the tooth for tackling suspects.” And by suspects, you knew he meant your dad. He was the one who got him off you. “Are you ok?” You ask. “All good, just had to get my shoulder checked out.”

“Ok, glad you’re ok.” And you truly were. You would feel awful if you had been the reason he had been seriously injured, especially after you were supposed to be out of his hair.

He nods, fiddling with his hands on the rail at the end of your bed. “Hey, your aunt is on her way to get you, it’s gonna be awhile, but I talked to your doctor and they said they’ll keep you till she arrives to monitor your concussion.”

You nod. “My dad?”

“We got him, he’s going away for a long time.” You notice his lack of enthusiasm in that response, obviously thinking that justice had not been fully served.

“But not forever.” Your voice soft, barely over a whisper.

He shook his head. “Long enough you’re not going to need to worry about him.”

“But you’ll come rescue me again if he tries, right?” You cocked an eyebrow, knowing it wasn’t a promise he could make, but every reassuring thing he told you made you feel better anyways.

“As much as I love the job, I don’t know if I’m going to be on the force in 40 years.”

“Yeah, you might not be able to a shoot a gun while using a walker with tennis balls on the bottom.” The two of you laugh a bit at that visualization.

As you quiet down you notice he looks a bit more serious.“But yeah, I’ll get you.”

Once again, probably against some protocol, but you just had to reach out and hug him burying your face in his leather jacket. He leans forward to pull you in. Something about it was just natural, you knew he’d protect you, you knew that now.

“Thank you so much. I’d be dead.”

“Of course,” He pets your hair, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“T-thank you for caring.” He pulls back to look you in the eyes.

“I checked your record, no priors since you left. Thank you for being worth it.” He smiles.

The two of you sit there for a minute, staring at each other, his hand still the (good) side of your head. You’d never really had a dad moment like this, but if this was the first and last dad moment you ever had, you were ok with it. It was perfect. He stands up, stretching out his back as if he’s about to leave. But instead, he pulls up a chair.

“You don’t mind if I stick around till your aunt arrives do you?”

You gently shook your head. Truth was, you were too afraid to ask him to do so, but of course, somehow, he knew what you needed. So there the two of you sat. Talking about the extremely normal things you had been involved in back in Minnesota. You swear he kept a small smile on his face the entire time. Just happy to see you moving on. It was done.

When you turned 18, you reached out the Antonio again and asked if he would be willing to meet up for lunch, now that it was “legal” to do so. And now it has become an annual event with occasional bonus trips when you somehow wind up in the Windy City. Your lives may have grown apart in distance but something would always keep the two of you together. He’d always be there for you, and you needed that. Maybe not everyone needs a perfect father figure to survive in the world, but knowing a tough boxing detective would be by your side in one phone call gave you the freedom of safety. Your aunt is an amazing woman, but Antonio Dawson is really the one who you owe everything to.

He promised, you trusted, and it was the first decision of your life that truly mattered.

A/N: I know my presence on this account is sporadic, but I hope some people enjoy this. I’m going to dive into my drafts to work on some of the partially written responses I have for some old requests. (:

#antonio dawson #antonio dawson x reader #Chicago PD #one chicago #antonio dawson imagines #antonio dawson imagine #antonio dawson baby #fanfiction #fandom #fanfic

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teruthecreator · 3 years

Text

sweet surprises

lord forgive me for the cringe i’m about to post. i fully blame this post and this post for planting the seeds of berdley having a crush on kris in my brain. also shouts out to izel for listening to me go insane at 3 AM about this.

anyways, here’s a thing.

______________________________________________________________

Excitement is in the air.

Unlike the usual calm monotony of life at school, things recently have been quite...electric. Not because of the portal to the Dark World hidden behind the door of the closet, or the adventures had by a select group of students through the portal in the Librarby a few days ago. No, this isn’t about that.

This is about the Sadie Hawkman’s Dance. The once-a-year phenomenon where the school puts on its best interpretation of a formal dance for the incredibly small number of students who attend class. Students buzz in excitement for the event, preparing their most formal outfits and getting ready to dazzle their friends and fellow classmates with their dramatic entrances into the auditorium.

And, of course, there’s the all important ritual of asking someone to the dance.

There’s already been a few proposals made this week. Jockington rolled into class like a hula hoop and asked Catti to be his “best bro” for the dance, to which she happily agreed. (And by that, I mean she looked up from her phone, smiled, said not a single word, and went back to typing.) Temmie loudly announced to the class that she would be taking her egg, which was somehow...embarrassed that she mentioned it. And, of course, Noelle finally managed to work up enough courage to ask Susie to the dance. It was done in an incredible display of candy canes that spelled out the phrase: “CAN(E) YOU BE MY DATE TO THE DANCE?” Unfortunately, Susie was about halfway through scarfing the display down before she realized what it said. She then began choking on one of the candy canes out of disbelief, which wound her in the nurse for the rest of the day. But, when she could speak again, she very quietly agreed to Noelle’s proposal (and, if you happened to be a fly on the wall in that room, you could hear a tail thump rhythmically against the doctor’s bench as she did so).

Kris was pleased with everything. They were happy to see their friends so happy together. A long time coming, if you asked them. And they’d be just as happy attending the dance solo, since they’ll undoubtedly be dragged along by Susie. They’d never gone to the dance before--never had a reason to, truth be told. But with their newfound friends, they may just enjoy being a wingman for the night.

...Speaking of wingmen, Berdly will probably be going solo as well. Unsurprising, but Kris makes a mental note to ensure the bird will be in attendance. As much as he is kind of a lot sometimes, he’s their friend. And Kris is going to make sure all of their friends are having fun at that dance!

They walk into class thinking of this (surprisingly early, for a change), which is why they almost miss the massive display sitting boldly atop their desk. They freeze the instant it catches their eye and, for a second, they almost believe it isn’t real. Like some leftover thoughts of the Dark World lingering in their vision. But, after wiping their eyes and seeing that it’s still there, they decide to approach and...investigate.

The display is expertly crafted by someone who clearly knows their way around a glue gun. It is a heart-shaped arch that is decorated with a myriad of printed illustrations of Super Smashing Fighters Melee characters, all having cut-outs to hold different bars of chocolate. There are also numerous origami hearts glued around the characters on the arch, in colors spanning across the rainbow. The arch is painted in swirls of blues, pinks, and reds and covered with a border of glitter that sprinkles onto the desk when Kris reaches out to pluck a chocolate bar from its perch. On the desk itself is a big origami heart that says “TO KRIS” in gold calligraphy. It is by far one of the coolest, nicest, cheesiest things Kris has ever seen.

They look up from the display to see if anyone else is seeing this shit, and that’s when it all clicks.

Because sitting at the front of the classroom, fidgeting way more than normal, is Berdly. He keeps interlocking his ankles underneath his desk before unlocking them and kicking the air, turning around every half-second or so to try and catch Kris’s reaction. From the brief moments Kris can see the front of him, they notice he’s not in his usual white collared shirt and black khaki shorts. Instead, his shirt is buttoned all the way up, with a nice blue bowtie tied around his neck. He also traded out his khaki shorts for a pair of dress pants that look to be a tad too long for his legs. He keeps reaching up to smooth out the feathers on his head, which immediately stick back up from stress.

Now, Kris may be a straight B student, but they’re not stupid. Context clues are a very good thing, and all signs point to Berdly as the culprit of this public display of...affection?

Beyond Berdly is Ms. Alphys at her desk, who shoots Kris a look of deep understanding and maybe...guilt? She looks at Berdly for a split second and shrugs her shoulders, indicating he was probably in here long before she was and so she had no way of stopping him from leaving it there.

Kris looks back down at the display and picks up the large origami heart. As they begin to unfold it, they see a sprawling letter written in the same flashy calligraphy. Kris squints at the letters--they’re dyslexic, so everything kind of just looks like spaghetti on paper. Still, they’re able to make out the largely printed question of “WILL YOU GO TO THE DANCE WITH ME?” with no issue.

Huh, guess they won’t be going to the dance alone after all…? It’s a little confusing as to why Berdly would want to go with them, though. Like, they’ve hung out a little bit--usually whenever Berdly wanted a “worthy rival” to play video games with, he would come over and Kris would whoop his ass for a few hours. And, of course, there were the recent events in the Cyber World; but Kris is pretty sure them and Susie had thoroughly convinced Noelle and Berdley that that was all a dream. So, why them?

They’re lost in this train of thought for so long that they don’t even notice the other kids enter the room until they suddenly hear:

“Yo, Kris???????? What the heck is this thing????” Susie’s voice doesn’t startle them, but it is loud enough to get them to look up. Susie is standing next to their desk, looking at the display with genuine amazement thinly masked by disgust. She’s also loud enough to basically stop the whole class (who were all muttering amongst themselves about it anyway), which gives Kris only a second to gaze around the room before--

SLAM!

The door to the classroom slams shut, leaving one seat unoccupied.

Berdley’s.

“This thing’s got chocolate on it????” Susie continues to marvel at the display while Kris looks at the door, frowning. They feel...bad. It isn’t Berdley’s fault for trying to fit in with the other kids' proposals; he admitted to feeling like he needs to do more just to stand out enough for people to acknowledge him back in the Dark World. And this thing is really...thoughtful! The characters are all ones Kris typically mains, or ones they know Berdley mains, which means he remembers things about Kris. And the chocolate is a given, but it is nice to be able to stock their personal snack stash with some fancy stuff. Ultimately, it’s very sweet, and Kris can’t help but feel a little guilty for not saying anything immediately.

They turn and lock eyes with Ms. Alphys, who looks extremely out-of-depth with this situation. She makes a number of gestures from them to the door in a flustered way of saying I have absolutely no idea what the hell is going on please help me Kris I know I’m asking a lot of you but I don’t know how to deal with teenage angst I’m like thirty-five. They sigh, standing up and walking past Susie (but not before giving her a stare that warns her if a single chocolate bar is gone that they will be holding that over her until the day she dies) and following Berdly out the door.

It doesn’t take Kris very long to follow the trail of labored breathing to where Berdley is--in the abandoned classroom, hyperventilating as he teeters on a breakdown. Luckily, when Kris opens the door, it seems to put a halt to his spiralling because he just kind of...freezes. Like a deer caught in headlights. Or a Berdley caught in Kris-lights. Kris takes this moment to let the door shut behind them, trapping the two in here. Together.

“U-Uhhhhh, hi--he--Um. H-Hello, K-Kris…” Berdly attempts to put on his usual bravado, but his voice betrays him brutally by squeaking and cracking on every syllable. Kris can’t help the smile that comes to their face.

“Uh, hey,” they reply with a wave. Berdley continues to stand there and stare (almost like he wasn’t expecting Kris to care enough to follow him) before the present circumstances return to his mind and he begins breathing hard again.

“I-I-I-I, uh...I was. Um. J-Just, uh. G-Getting some fresh air! Y-Yes! The classroom can be s-so stuffy sometimes, I’m sure y-you--you, uh...you agree?” Berdley makes a valiant attempt at hiding his panic, which Kris almost takes pity on. But they don’t think the monster will feel any better if they just pretend what happened back there never happened.

“Yeah. I liked the display.” Kris says simply. Berdley stands stock-straight at that, looking even worse for wear in the “being normal and completely cool” department.

“O-Oh??????? That ol’ thing????? I, um--well I just--y-you see, I--uh. Um,” You can really hear the gears in his head turning as he attempts to come up with an excuse. “I-I-I just thought you w-would appreciate the craftsmanship of!!! A t-true artisan, such as myself!!! So, I!!! M-Made it!!! COMPLETELY PLATONICALLY, OF COURSE!!!! I-I would never imply that my intentions w-were anything other than for bro-sies, i--You didn’t read that whole card, did you?”

“I can’t read,” They mean this as a joke, but they can see Berdley seriously consider this for a second too long. “Dude, I’m dsylexic. I can’t really read cursive…” Berdley freezes up once more, which makes Kris realize they haven’t really projected that as loudly as they might’ve thought.

“Oh! Right! How could I forget! That you’re! Dsylexic!” Berdley’s smile is stapled to his face as he begins to rhythmically knock on his head. “And I! Wrote! That! Entire! Note! In! Cursive! Which! You! Can’t! Read!!!” Kris steps forward in an attempt to keep Berdley from bashing his own skull in, but that only makes Berdley more tense, so they take a step back. “I-I just--The note isn’t important! None of it’s important actually can we forget this interaction ever happened okay? Okay yes that’s great have a wonderful day Kris I will be returning home to sitinmyroomandneverreturntothecorporealrealmalrightgoodbyeforeverKris--” He attempts to sidestep around Kris and out the door, but is very easily intercepted.

“Stop.” Kris grabs him by the shoulders, which seems to shut him up for a second. “Can you just tell me what’s wrong?” Berdley gapes at them as his face steadily grows redder, which makes Kris feel as if there’s something on their face. But he quickly shakes it off, going from completely neurotic to...dejected.

“I just…” He starts, trailing off immediately. “You deserve to have a big proposal, same as everyone else. I-I see you in the back of the class, just...watching. And I, uh, felt it was time to...give you the spotlight! But that was silly of me, wasn’t it?” He looks off to the side at the floor, smiling sadly. “After all, who’d want to go to the dance with me…? I-I’m alone every year, standing in the background. Just kind of...taking it all in...and th-thinking about how it’d be...nice to be a part of it. But that’s...not probable. It was just nice to think about taking you to the dance because you’re--well, you’re nice to me, and you’re funny, and you actually listen to me when I’m talking, an-and you’re a good person and an incredible gaming legend...but I shouldn’t have put it all on you in front of everyone...I’m. I’m sorry, Kris.” He won’t make eye contact with the human, but Kris can still see the tears collecting in his eyes.

“Berdley, that’s stupid.” Kris says, which Berdley cringes at, “Why wouldn’t I wanna go with you?” That part is...not what Berdley was expecting. He looks up at Kris, unsure of where to go from here.

“U-Um…? Because of all the previously stated things? Like me being a complete loser who nobody likes?”

“I like you,” Kris replies immediately, leaving Berdley’s feathers sticking straight up as he flusters. “And I like your display. It’s...really sweet.”

“E-Even if you can’t read the note?” Berdley’s voice cracks.

“I mean, I could read the: WILL YOU GO WITH ME TO THE DANCE part, so, like. Yeah.” Kris shrugs. “Plus, you got me chocolate. Nice chocolate. Nobody...gets me things like that.” They smile, a light dusting of blush across their face. “I’ll go with you.” Berdley’s entire body seizes up for the third time, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“W-W-w-W-w-w-w-w-W-W-W-w-w-w-Wh-Wha-wh-w-w-wha-wha-w-wh-Wh-Wha-wh-Wha-wha-w-w-W-W-W--” Berdley continues to struggle with the word “what” for a solid minute and a half before he’s finally about to manage a: “What?!” Kris can’t help but laugh.

“I said that, Berdley,” at this, they move their grip from his shoulders to his hands, “I will go to the Sadie Hawkman’s dance with you.”

The circuits in Berdley’s brain struggle with this frequency for an extended moment before his face erupts in the giddiest smile Kris has ever seen the bird monster sport. He even begins to jump up and down, taking Kris along with him, as he cackles. It is a surprisingly cute display that Kris finds themselves blushing a bit at. It’s nice to be this...cared about.

“I-I--We have to start thinking of outfits immediately!” Berdley blurts out, returning to their usual demeanor. “I was thinking of some complimentary color schemes on the way to school today which I will be happy to show you at lunchtime. I’m also a master with a sewing machine, so if you are unable to procure an outfit that meets the color requirements, I would be delighted to take your measurements and--w-wait, don’t read into that phrasing, I just m-meant that I could make an outfit for you! B-But I’d need your measurements, and--Oh, goodness, hasn’t class started already, Kris?! We should head back, but--” He looks from the door to Kris and back again a few times before finally settling on something.

“I’lltalktoyouaboutthislaterseeyouinclassKris!!!!!” He says this right before he gives Kris a solitary peck on the cheek before bolting out of the abandoned classroom, leaving Kris blinking at the Berdley-shaped cloud he left behind. Their hand gently grazes the spot on their cheek--luckily not actually pecked by his beak, but more of a quick-kiss kind of peck--and feel their heart skip a beat.

Huh.

That’s...different.

They elect to not dwell on that feeling any longer and head back to class. They have to make sure Susie hasn’t eaten all of the chocolate on that display.

They wouldn’t want to make Berdley go through the trouble of re-proposing just so they could rightfully claim their other sweet surprise.

#deltarune #deltarune chapter 2 #kris/berdley #kris dreemurr #kris deltarune #berdley deltarune #ignorance cloud on #LORD FORGIVE ME FOR BEING CRINGE ON MAIN. I JUST LIKE THINKING THOUGHTS #LISTEN..........I JUST THINK ITD BE FUNNY. IF KRIS HAD THIS PATHETIC GAMER ALL HEART EYES OVER THEM #also the dance aspect is based on one of the posters you can see inside the school. i am Pretty sure that is what its called #if i was off by like a similar-sounding word i need everyone to do me a favor and pretend im right bc this is cringe enough already #i edited this ONCE at 3 AM last night. i am doing no more than that #anyways here u go izel enjoy ur food.

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moondustis · 4 years

Text

songs for you (m)

pairing: nakamoto yuta + reader genre: smut, angst, fluff / friends to lovers, 70s, band!au word count: 10k summary: A story about dreams, music, groupies and falling in love with your best friend. It’s the 70s, baby, live a little. song rec: miss you - the rolling stones / woman - harry styles / grow up - paramore

You don’t remember much of your childhood, just flashes and weird memories that pop in every now and then. That’s what happens as you get older, you guess. But here’s something you remember:

Nakamoto Yuta, three years older than you, walking inside your house with his mother holding his hand. You had seen the woman before, a very good friend of your mom from a long time ago, but the scrawny kid by her side was something new. And in your young age, nothing seemed more intimidating than a boy older and taller than you.

It didn’t go very well, let’s just put it like that.

But still, for some reason, after that day the boy sticked to your side like glue. A friend you could say, even with the age difference and the intimidating stares. It was like Yuta got himself a permanent place on your life, always teasing you, but also always making sure you were okay.

As a teenager, you remember daydreaming of travelling the world. Finally getting away from the too small town you lived in and away from all the stupid closed minded people that wanted to know about everybody's business. You remember Yuta showing you songs that you never heard before, Bowie, Fleetwood Mac, Hendrix, the list would go on and on. It was like music became a little world you had built for yourselves, where you could be who you truly wanted to be.

The both of you had always dreamed of something more, something exciting and that made your blood rush with adrenaline. You wanted to live, experience the things you only heard about in the records Yuta played for you and what you saw on the telly at late night at his house.

That’s something you had been thinking about a lot these days, while you watched roads pass by through the windows of the barely comfortable tour bus. Because, somehow, you had made it, your dreams had come true and at the age of 20 you got to go on tour with your band and finally see the world you had only fantasized about, even if it was only a few cities not that far from yours.

The band, put together by none other than you and your best friend, consisted of four people: you on the guitar, something you had learned by watching Jimi Hendrix too much, Taeyong on the bass, Doyoung singing, Johnny on the keyboard and last but not least, Yuta as the drummer. Oh, and you couldn’t forget about Taeil, your self proclaimed manager that didn’t gain anything with this job but the opportunity to travel with you all.

And with punk and classic rock influences all over your songs, you were not half bad, had gotten the opportunity to tour for a reason and could even make the small crowds that gathered to see you sing along, achieving an even smaller amount of fans that proclaimed their adoration for you.

It was literally the start of a dream come true, but for some reason you had been feeling weird the past days. Like your mind just started wondering out of nowhere, like it is now, and you started to think about things that made a lump form in your throat. Because see, it was great, the music and all the perfoming, the parties and the small magazines, but you didn’t feel happy all the time. You wondered if 16 year old you would be proud.

A loud clash spurs you out of your trance and brings you back to the studio you’re all in, trying to record a new song. Yuta looks at you with an annoyed expression as the plate on the drums still stirs.

“Wake the fuck up, you’re daydreaming again.” He says, without real bite to the words, but still mean enough to make you snap back. “We only have one hour left and the song is not even halfway finished.”

“Sorry.” You murmur, guitar feeling heavy but comfortable as you reposition it. Taeyong starts counting and then the melody of the familiar song you had all finished writing yesterday starts. Your fingers find the guitar strings with ease and you let yourself go with the music.

❀

There were few things better than making music with your best friends. Travelling to different places, standing in front of a crowd no matter how small and performing, the money you managed to split among yourselves, they were all great but nothing came close to being in a studio with the people that became your family while you did the thing you all loved the most.

It’s a small studio this time but the atmosphere is good, with velvet walls, tiled floor and low lights. The smell of weed is intoxicating and you feel high after not even that many hits. Maybe it’s just the joy of being in the moment.

The small sketchbook you take around with you everywhere stays placed on your lap with possible lyrics written all over it in a messy way, because when inspiration hits it’s impossible to keep an organized mind. Your head stays tilted back, eyes closed as the melody Taeyong is playing and your own thoughts fill your head. They come and go with no rush, something that is rare because usually you’re all over the place, overthinking until you get a headache.

Taeyong hums something to go along with the bass and a smile forms in your lips at how good it sounds already, good enough to have your eyes opening as you write down the things your mind provides. These days it’s mostly about the same things, finding yourself and the overwhelming feeling that came with it, even more when you did it while discovering the world and you recent acquainted opportunities. But they are also about something that you like to ignore. You knew very well it was there, would be too obvious if you didn't, but pretending you didn’t was better. Safer.

Johnny plops down next to you on the leather couch, a silly smile on his lips as he tries to take a peek at your writing. “What is it you got there? Another love song?” He asks just the tiniest bit teasingly, making you blush because that’s the exact subject you would like to avoid.

Love, what a weird thing isn’t it? Both in concept and in practice.

You had once thought you would never fall in love, too independent and doing well on your own. But that’s the thing about it, you don’t really get to choose when or if it’s going to happen. Love strips you down of your free will and there’s nothing you can do but succumb to it.

Were you in love, though? That’s a good question, really. You weren’t one to think you knew everything about it and had it all figured out, because in reality the mere thought of it scared you. But there’s this feeling on your chest that you can quite find another word for.

“Maybe.” It’s your answer to Johnny’s question. “But it’s none of your business.”

He laughs when you poke out your tongue at him, nudging your shoulder playfully. “It is when I’ll be also playing it live.”

He’s right but you won’t give out the privilege of letting him know that. Not that you would have time, because Taeyong is calling him to go over the melody together and soon you’re on the couch by yourself again.

You ponder getting up as well to play a little, on hopes to find the right notes to fit the raw lyrics you had, but your body feels lethargic enough from being high and you decide against it.

Closing your eyes again you only open them when the couch tips again, this time Yuta sits down close to you. Closer than Johnny had and you can smell his cologne amidst the strong smell of weed that's in the entire room.

“What you up to?” He asks, arm resting behind you on the couch and the gesture makes you feel small. He smiles, glancing down at your notebook and flipping through the pages gently.

“Just… writing and stuff.” You feel higher now than you did before for some reason.

He hums, looking straight ahead now, but you continue looking at him. “You’ve been really quiet lately.” He points out, no beating around or questioning. It must’ve took a lot of thinking from his part to finally say that to you, because talking about anything that could become too personal was far from his strength.

“Yeah, I think I’m probably just homesick. Or something like that.” It’s not a full lie so he falls for it, nodding as if indicating he feels the same.

“Missing your mom’s cooking, huh? Can’t say I’m not either.” He jokes and it makes you crack a smile. “But I get that. But most times when I start to get homesick I remember I got you.”

He says it still looking at Taeyong and Johnny as they play. His voice is calm, slightly slurred when he adds. “And you’re practically home to me.”

His eyes move to you then, a smile on his lips as his arm pushes you closer in an almost hug. He acts as if he just didn’t say something that makes your heart somersault in your chest.

Like he didn’t just say something that made you think you were in fact, in love.

❀

The adrenaline that came with performing in front of more than twenty people was something unmatched. You jump around the stage, playing like it could be your last time with fingers a little red from the guitar strings but you couldn’t care less, not with the music playing so loud and your heart beating so fast.

Yuta smiles wickedly when you stand in front of him, hands moving as fast as yours as the drum and guitar mix together. You smile back, thrilled and beyond excited that you get to do this with your best friend every night.

The best friend which you had been nurturing feeling you didn’t know how to deal with for. What a messy situation, because for one there was an unsaid rule that you shouldn’t have any sort of romantic relationship with your bandmates. And secondly, Yuta just wasn’t interested in you like that, he had his groupies to keep him busy.

Groupies that don’t take long after the end of the show to gather around him as you walk outside the venue. And you would really like to say that it doesn't bother you, that you couldn't care less, but you can’t. Because you hate it and think it’s a little pathetic how Yuta whispers something to a girl wearing barely anything and how it makes her giggle.

But even more pathetic is the fact that you seem to be bothered by it only because it’s him. All your other bandmates had girls all around them too, Doyoung especially with a different girl under both of his arms. Hell, even you had a small share of men and women that tried their luck approaching you and no one seemed to pay no mind.

When it came to Yuta’s groupies though, it made you almost livid. With how obnoxious they were and how he gave then smiles and flirted like a man with a very defined goal.

You manage to play it cool, though, had mastered the art of pretending by now.

❀

You're sitting on the hotel bed, the only light coming from the outside lamps and the moon shining bright, but it’s enough for you to be able to write the words down on your sketchbook. Inspiration always striked at late nights for some reason, probably because of the loneliness of it all.

You’re playing the guitar mindless, trying to find the perfect melody to fit the lyrics you had just gotten out, when there’s knock in the door. And it would be weird if you weren’t already used to it.

Putting the guitar aside you get up from the bed and tiptoe to the door, peeking on the fish eye to confirm your suspicious. Yuta stands there, hair falling to his face and wearing a shirt that has too many buttons open. He smiles when you open the door, charming and familiar. “Hello there, sweet cheeks.”

Rolling your eyes, you move out of the way to let him get inside your hotel room. “That’s the worst pet name you could ever come up with.”

He makes himself comfortable, plopping down on your bed and taking a lot of space with his spreading. “Don’t lie, I know you like it.” His voice is convinced and you won’t bother trying to change his mind.

“Can’t sleep?” You ask, changing the subject as you move to sit on your previous spot. Now, closer to him, you can smell the faint smell of his cigarettes lingering underneath the cologne he probably applied so you wouldn’t notice. Smoking was the way he found to deal with the annoying thoughts that filled his mind at night, resulting in an awful case of insomnia. Not that he would admit that.

“Sleep is for the weak.” He says nonchalantly and you scoff.

“Yeah, yeah. Real artists live on coke and music, is that it?”

He laughs now, amused while he scratches the exposed tattooed skin of his stomach. “That’s the spirit. We’re already halfway there, might as well, huh?” He jokes and you just roll your eyes, kicking him lightly on the shoulder.

“We can't have that stuff around us. One line and Taeyong will be climbing up walls.”

“Taeyong? Please, we both know the one climbing walls would be you.”

You laugh out loud this time and he follows, shaking his head. Times like these, where it was just the two of you, felt too much like when you would stay in his room to listen to records and talk about things that didn’t really make sense.

When your laughter settles down Yuta moves around until his eyes land on your sketchbook and he takes it to read what you’ve been working on. You don’t protest because there’s no reason to, he knows your thoughts almost as well as you do.

He hums, eyes roaming around the page and lips turning a little. “This is good.” His voice is genuine and it makes you blush, praise was something weird to take.

“I’m still working on it, though.”

“Hmm, let me know when you finish it then, we can work the melody together.”

“Of course, can’t make a song without my favorite drummer.” You say it in a funny voice as if you’re joking but he knows it’s nothing but the truth. The first song you had made with him was at 17 and now every time inspiration struck he was always either by your side or on your mind. He called it a connection, a deep one that many artists could only dream of happening. Musical soulmates he had called it once and you agreed, it was like you were just in tune with each other.

You play a little of what you had so far to him, the clock blinking red when it hits 1AM but neither of you bother.

When you get tired of playing you decide to press on the matter. “What were you thinking about?” You start, voice low as if to not scare him off. “That made you lose sleep.”

He must be feeling calm because he lets the words fall out. “Taeil suggested that we make a song with pop influence.” He says and you grimace. “To reach a wider audience.”

“That’s fucking stupid.” Is all you say because it’s what it is. Pop had nothing to do with your style, never had and never would. Not that you hated it, but it wasn’t what you were passionate about.

Yuta chuckles lightly. “That’s what I told him.”

“That’s good.” You say and a minute of silence follows, someone outside drives away, a wheels on concrete sound filling the room. There’s something unspoken in the air, a promise you had made to each other when this tour started.

Music was the thing the two of you loved the most, and nothing, not even money, would change how you did it. The deal was to always stay loyal to that thought.

“We got each other’s back, right?” He asks sudden, but it’s a rhetorical question because he’s soon adding. “That’s all we got in this world, our music and ourselves.”

You look down at him but his eyes stay glued to the wall. A lump forms in your throat at the heaviness of his words and you have to swallow around it to reply. “It’s always gonna be us.” You say in a broken but sure voice. “No matter what.”

“Fuck yeah.” He says quietly and you both laugh.

❀

One thing that you learned with your recently discovered success was that parties became boring quite fast. Loud music and people getting way more drunk or high than they should near a pool was a dangerous mistake. Still, you always followed down the same road.

Your bandmates liked them, a way to interact more with people and an opportunity to get high for free. Music came from experiences, it’s what Johnny always said and you agreed partly because there was indeed something inspiring about being among people that were having fun, that felt carefree.

You take a sip from your beer with that though on your head, leaning against a wall as you watch last mentioned man swing his hips in a messy way in the middle of the living room as two girls laugh and dance with him. You can’t help but laugh alongside with them, even if you’re standing on the opposite side of the room.

It’s a small house, from someone you never met before, but being in a small city always meant crashing a house party with too many college kids that usually screamed when they recognized mostly Doyoung from the posters spread across town.

The slightly buzz of alcohol made you feel like you were floating, head just slightly spinning and you lean against a wall to keep yourself steady. There’s not much going on inside your brain, just the numbness of being just a bit drunk and you enjoyed it, made you feel content.

You clean your wet palm from the beer’s perspiration on your jeans, eyes roaming around the room until you find him. Yuta stands on a wall opposite from the one you are, the bandana on his head keeping the hair out of his face and making you see his features more clearly. He looks good tonight, as he does always, but the post concert glow really did wonders to him and the way his exposed tattooed arms flexed a little when he moved made your head spin again.

It had become a habit, one that you wanted to desperately get rid off. Watching Yuta, almost as if you were analyzing every little detail about him, left you with a weird feeling in your stomach. There he was, the person you felt the closest to in the entire world, the person whom you already knew everything about, but when it was like this, with you staring without him knowing, you felt like he was still a mysterious person. Someone you would be lucky to dive deep into.

He raises his eyebrows and smirks at something the girl besides him whispers in his ear, probably something raunchy by the way he tries to bring her closer. You look away.

Taeyong finds you like that, beer going warm in your hand and your eyes dazed staring at nothing as you overthink every single thing. He smiles when he sees you, probably a little tipsy himself as he leans against the wall so close to you that your hips touch. “What are you doing here alone?” He asks, bumping against your side playfully and it gets a smile from you.

After Yuta, Taeyong was the closest to you in the band, for the simple fact that he cared. Not that the others didn’t, but Taeyong always made sure everyone was doing ok and that had made you feel safe, helped shape the friendship you have today of sharing your secrets and supporting each other.

“Just don't feel like socializing.” Is your reply, because it’s true. People at these parties were usually terrible at small talk or so pretentious they made you feel stupid for even thinking.

He hums, following your vision line as it goes back to Yuta again. His arm is now wrapped around the girl so you look away immediately.

You don’t see the way Taeyong looks at you emphatically. “Have you ever thought about telling him?” It’s obvious what the question is about because as much as you’d like to think you’re good at hiding it, you wouldn’t be good enough to hide it from him.

Still, you try to lie. “What? There's nothing to tell.” The awkward laugh and roll of your eyes are a dead giveaway, too forced to even come close to being genuine.

He laughs in disbelief of your attempts. “Yeah, alright. Just remember you’ll never know the things you don’t try.”

It makes you scoff. How poetic, probably a great thing to say to a drunk girl who’s already having risky thoughts. “Wow, we should definitely write a song about that.” You joke, trying to shift the subject to something else.

“Ha-ha.” He fake laughs but there’s still amusement on his face. “I’m being serious.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” How serious could he be after too many beers, you think to yourself. Maybe you were a fan of being in denial, so you shrug and just do your best to think about something else.

Something pops up on your head, a bad idea most definitely, so you act on lazy impulse. Walking just far enough to throw the still almost full beer bottle and then you come back to stand in front of Taeyong. You must have really be going crazy.

He rolls his eyes even before you talk or put your hands on his shoulders, but still moves to hold your hips. “Yongie…” It’s a sickeningly cute voice, one you use as a joke when you want something. It makes him crack a smile, already knowing what is coming. “I think we should kiss.”

He chuckles, squeezing your hips and smiling. “I’ll have to agree just because you look cute tonight.” You laugh right back at him.

And then you’re kissing, like you had done before in the past for reasons that were the same as the one right now. Boredom, loneliness, horniness or just because. It was a friendly kiss, shared between two people that knew it would never go further than that. And it was good, his tongue sliding against yours in slow motions that are just the tiniest bit sensual because that’s just how Taeyong liked to kiss. It was so good that you forget for a second about other things, such as Yuta.

Yuta who happens to be watching, or better yet glaring, from the other side of the room as you kiss your friend. Yuta who tells the girl he’s with that he’s not in the mood anymore and leaves the party.

In some cases, ignorance truly is bliss.

❀

The dressing room was always a mess before a show, no matter how sketchy, dirty or small it was. Trust a group of musicians that had no basic decency to behave like this to calm their nerves before performing.

Johnny is pressing random notes on the keyboard, making sounds that would be unpleasant to anyone else, but you and Taeyong dance to it in weird moves that get you laughing as Doyoung sings extremely off key. The only one not taking part in your shenanigans is Yuta, who stays on the old couch writing on his notebook, and even if you wanted to call him over, you know better than to bother him.

You don’t even notice when Taeil walks into the room, holding what looks like a folder in his hand and barely helping the excited grin that wants to settle on his face. “Hey!” He tries once to get everyone to pay attention but without success. “HEY!”

His shout has all of you turning to look at him, Johnny’s fingers stopping on the keyboard and the sounds that filled the room before give way to Taeil’s rushed voice.

“I have some really good fucking news.” He announces, shaking the papers around in the air as if any of you could ever guess what’s in those papers.

“What is it?”

“Spit it out, cutie.” Comes Johnny voice and you all laugh. Making Taeil flustrated is easy but he pays it no mind right now, whatever it is he wants to say clearly more important than stupid jokes.

“A Neo Records scout was at the concert last night.” He says with edge on his voice earning confused and shocked reactions from all of you

“What the fuck?” Doyoung groans, dropping his face on his hands. “How did we not know that?”

“How could we even know? These people are sneaky as hell.”

After that the room just becomes a mess of you all talking over each other, putting yourselves down for not having performed better, for not playing better songs.

Taeil has enough of it very fast, yelling over all of you to regain your attention. “None of that matters, because he liked the performance. And,” He breaths out, a pause that has you walking forward to urge him on, “he wants to sign you guys.”

A shriek leaves your lips as someone mutters a curse. It’s unbelievable, not even Taeyong’s hand gripping your arm in excitement manages to spur you out of your trance. “Oh my god. Do they really?” He exclaims and you feel tears forming at your eyes.

“Yes. He said you guys have a lot of potential and after the tour is over they’re going to fly you all out to L.A to record an EP.” Taeil explains in calmness but just enough giddiness to his voice.

There’s no words to describe how much this means. No one in their right mind would ever sign a contract with a band that had a girl playing guitar in it. Women in rock and roll were there to be pretty, you were very much aware of how much hate The Runaways were getting constantly, how much sexist shit you yourself had to hear.

But this, this right here was an opportunity to take your dream to the next level, do something that actually stood a chance of getting recognized.

Your eyes look for Yuta’s, to share the excitement of getting this far but when they meet he holds your gaze in an expression you can't quite pinpoint. His voice raises suddenly, making everyone in the room look at him. “What’s the catch?” He uncrosses his legs, widening them as he looks at Taeil with his pierced eyebrow raised.

“What do you mean?”

He chuckles. “I mean, a big record like them wanting to sign with us, there must be something they want out of this.” You furrow your eyebrows because as much sense he makes, it sounds like he’s looking for conflict.

Taeil gapes, as if looking for the right words and you realize there is in fact a catch. “I — Well, they just… They just think it would be nice to have some songs that are more public friendly, but it can be discuss-“

Yuta’s laugh cuts Taeil short. He’s an intimidating person, even more when he looks pissed off and right now as he gets up from the couch you feel like the air is tense enough to cut. “We’re not making shitty manufactured pop songs, man.”

Usually a comment like that would be taken as a joke between all of you, but he says it in a sharp voice and you know it’s because he has had this same conversation with your manager not that many days ago. But still, you feel like there’s something more, even if Yuta wasn't keen on letting his feelings show, you knew something was going on with how distant he had become the last days.

“Come on,Yuta.” The voice comes from Taeyong, moving away from your side to face Yuta properly. There’s not an ounce of bitterness in his voice, only sympathy because you all share the same passions. “This is a crazy opportunity, we can’t let it pass.”

And then you’re sure there’s something going on that goes way over this, because Yuta is pushing Taeyong and mutetting words that you wish he doesn’t mean.”What do you even fucking know? Y’all will just take any validation you can get like little bitches.” It’s simple but it has venom to it. Venom that makes Taeyong’s face contort because he despises confrontation and at that you come forward, pushing Yuta the same way he did.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You sound way too emotional and it makes you hate yourself. Yuta just looks at you like he’s annoyed, his shoulders knocking against yours as he walks out of the room.

You look down, shaking your head in disbelief and feeling tired from the quick rise and fall of emotions. Feeling someone hover over you, you look up to find Johnny’s eyes staring down with what looks like sorrow. “Don’t stress over it, he’ll come around to it eventually.”

And you really hope that’s true.

❀

After that, things go back to the same routine of being in a bus for hours, performing in a sketchy bar, getting shitfaced drunk and then doing it all over again. The only difference is that now there’s a tension in the air that comes from both Yuta’s outburst and the prospect of all of this becoming something bigger than it is.

The higher executives at Neo Records or whoever made the decision to sign the band, had given you until your last performance to make a decision. There’s only three shows left until that, but that’s the last thing on your mind as your play a riff that makes the bigger than normal crowd that gathered today scream.

There’s blinding lights on the stage that make you feel like you’re dreaming, the sound of Doyoung half singing half screaming just slightly muted. You turn to where Yuta is, giving his all because he would never do anything but that and when the drumstick hits a plate in a sharp noise he looks right back at you.

Something had changed, you’re not dumb to not know that. But what it was exactly seemed to escape you, because Yuta was just too good at keeping things to himself, too mysterious for your sake. So he keeps giving you this look, a look that wants to be more than that but it’s not that easy to decypher. A look that you ignore to continue playing.

A look that you ignore when you all come out of the stage, sweaty and with adrenaline filling your hearts. That you ignore when everyone gathers around the hotel pool to have a beer and joke around, Johnny jumping on it and splashing everyone on the way.

A look that you can’t ignore any longer as you stand outside of Yuta’s room after everyone has retreated for the night, knocking softly until he opens the door.

This is still the same, he makes way for you to get inside and the scent of him that fills the room make your mind spin. He’s shirtless, probably ready to get to bed, and you can see all of his tattoos and the piercing on his navel on display.

Clearing your throat, you watch as he takes a seat on the bed, legs spread open and looking at you like he’s waiting for you to talk. “Something is going on.” Is what you decided on, not too keen on beating around the bush.

“A lot of things are going on.” He points out and you have to roll your eyes.

“You know what I mean.”

“Maybe I don’t, so why don’t you make it clear for me?” He’s being defensive, you expected this, but it still makes your blood boil.

“See? There’s no reason for you to give me attitude right now but here we are, so there’s clearly something going on.” You cross your arms on your chest, still standing in the middle of the room like a fool as he chuckles.

“You keep saying that but I think you know very well what’s going on.” He sounds annoyed now, staring directly at you. “You just expect me to accept this shit? For money or whatever it is that you all are looking for?”

His words sound empty so you squint your eyes at him in defiance. “You’re being an asshole, this is not your dream exclusively. You’re not our fucking frontman.”

That makes him scoff. “Please, there wouldn’t be a fucking band to be signed if it weren’t for me.”

Now you really get mad, laughing in disbelief. “Are you kidding me right now? We started this shit together.” You want to punch him in the face, get the annoyed look right out of his face and remind him.

He looks down, shaking his head in what you think is disbelief. “So why does it feel like you’re not by my side?” His choice of words make your eyebrows furrow. When had you not been loyal to him? You have been by his side since you were 7, nothing had changed. “Seems to me that you’re always taking your little boyfriend’s side now.”

“What?” There’s nothing but confusion in your features as you let your arms fall to your sides. “What boyfriend? Are you fucking out of your-“

He interrupts you with a groan.“Come on, I saw the two of you kissing.”

You blink slowly and then when you realize what he’s talking about, you’re completely outraged. “Taeyong? I’m not dating Taeyong.” Your voice is going higher by the minute and he seems to be getting just as heated.

“Why were you kissing him then?” He asks, getting up from the bed and moving closer to you.

You can’t help the incredulous high laughter that leaves your lips. “Because I wanted to. Is this why you have been acting like this? Why does it even matter to you?”

His tongue curls on the roof of his mouth, looking at you with angry eyes. “Because it does.”

You squint your eyes again, not believing this is really going on right now. Yuta, who hooked up with a different girl every night, patronizing you for kissing someone. It makes something boil inside of you that you find incredibly awful. “Why does it matter?” You demand, pushing him when he doesn’t answer. “Why?”

His face contorts in something you think is guilty, eyes roaming around your own and lips parting. For a second you think he’s going to say something, then you think he’s going to do something else. But none of that happens.

You push him again, no strength to it but he still falls down on the bed in defeat. A lump forms in your throat as he avoids your eyes.

You leave the room before he can see the tears.

❀

The day it happened is still fresh in your memory.

Your bedroom is the classic teenager one, filled with posters of all kind of things, from movies to bands and just quotes that inspired something within. But the one you like the most, of Joan Jett being a complete badass, stares right back at you from where you’re staring at the ceiling. You still remember dreaming about becoming like her one day.

There’s a song playing, something from the Rolling Stones that Yuta had wanted to show you and had practically stormed inside of your house with a vinyl on his hands to do so.

Said man looks at you from your bedroom floor, his now black hair long enough to tie into a small ponytail. There’s a piercing on various parts of his body and that’s enough reason for every girl in the city to want a piece of him, his aura just helped the whole thing. You remember that at 16 you thought it was amazing too. How he just carried himself with so much confidence, how he was always unapologetic. Yuta was someone you looked up to.

“We could do it, you know?” He says out of nowhere, getting you to finally stare back at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“Do what?”

“Start a band.”

You laugh because he was like that. Talked about things that he wanted to do with ease, not matter how crazy or unordinary they were. “Sure.” Is what you reply with, giving him a smile.

“I’m being serious.” He urges on. “We can do it, me and you. Just make the music we want to and have fun.”

You think about it for a second but there’s not really a reason to. You would do anything with Yuta. “Ok.” That makes him smile. “Yeah, ok. Let’s start a band.”

Back to the present, your tears stain the stark white fabric of the pillow case. You wonder in the back of your head if 16 year old you would be happy right now and that only makes you cry harder.

❀

Pride, isn’t that a stupid thing to have over trivial matters?

You don’t speak to Yuta at all for the following weeks, confusion and anger still filling your mind and tainting your every thought. And he does the same.

It’s comfortable not having to confront him and hear the harsh words you are sure he has stored, but it also makes your skin itch thinking that this stupid fight is going on for too long.

There’s only one show left and then it’s back to reality for a couple of days. The thought of having to go back home and leaving things unsettled with him makes you sick, and it was obvious if someone were to say something it was going to have to be you. Yuta’s pride was too big, even when it didn’t have to be.

So you go after him, because someone had to. Try to get him alone but it’s like there’s always someone around, or he’s too busy composing and it all hurts. It hurts but not enough to make you give up because you know this is merely a pointless fight.

“Where’s Yuta?” You ask Doyoung, who’s sitting by the hotel pool on one of those cheap looking chairs and with a cigarette lit between his lips. The hotel this time was not as nice as the others, the pool looks unkempt like no one had even touched it in at least a month.

Doyoung blows out smoke, looking at you with a tired face that you probably share from all the performances that are just now weighing down on your shoulders. “I think he went out to some party with Johnny.” He says absently and you huff in defeat, slumping down on the chair next to him.

“Asshole.” You mumble out, shutting your eyes for a moment and then it’s silent. The only noises filling your ears are from the ice machine and from the tall lamps.

Then there’s some rustling going around before Doyoung speaks. “Listen, I know that’s not any of my business, and believe me I would much rather stay out of it.” It’s what he starts with and you almost already know what he’s going to say. “But you two need to figure your shit out.”

Trust your lead singer to just lay down the obvious to you because sometimes that's all you need to hear. You scoff. “That’s what I wanted to do.” In the back of your mind you try not to think about what figuring your shit out would entail.

“He can be a dickhead sometimes, but he’s with us.” He says as if that wasn't something you knew already. “And he said he’ll sign the deal, you know? Had a whole theatrical chat with Taeil and all.”

That’s new information, that makes you squeeze your eyes shut in both excitement and frustration at the same time, because if that was already dealt with then the reason why he was acting like this with you was for something else like you had imagined.

You think of something to say, settling on what you felt deep down the moment you got inside that tour bus. “I… I just don’t want things to change.”

That makes Doyong laugh, his voice hoarse when he says. “They already have, love. You just gotta move forward with it.”

❀

You barely remember the last show, exhaustion finally catching up with your body. You remember the trashy alternative bar, remember some people singing along which was absolutely surreal and you remember the groupies crying about how they would miss the band while you took a little break. Anything other than that is a blur and forgotten as you sleep through the entirety of the trip back home, not bothering with the bumps in the roads or how awful the tour bus smelled after weeks.

You don’t notice until later that Yuta hadn’t even gotten on the bus with everyone else. Instead, as Johnny had said, he went on a small trip and would be back in town by the end of the week. You try not to worry about it too much.

Being back home feels weird and you start thinking about what Doyoung had said that day near the pool. Everything has changed, yes, and now your bedroom feels too small. The band posters don’t inspire you anymore as much as they ignite a fire inside that’s too big to extinguish. Your mother’s hug feels comforting but it doesn’t hold you back.

You were still scared, of course, but being back home made you realize that you craved it too much to let fear hold you back. Because how does one go back to reality like when they had a taste of their dreams? How do they live without wanting a bigger taste, to eat it whole?

The only thought in your head as you lay leisurely in your bed for the next days is that you can’t wait to make more music with your friends.

With Yuta. (Thinking of him makes you want to cry.)

The phone rings on saturday, just as your mother is leaving for her job at a diner and she yells for you to pick it up quickly. You get up from the bed with a groan, leisurely walking to the phone and greeting whoever is in the other side of the line with a simple “Hello.” It was probably one of your mother’s friends wanting to gossip or someone trying to sell you items for gymnastics at home.

It takes a while for anything to be said but when it does, the voice even if static is a familiar one. “Hey, it’s me.” Yuta says and the effect it has on the butterflies on your stomach is maddening. It had been too long in your opinion, relief immediately settling in your mind.

“I know.” You breath out and he chuckles. “Thought you were out there on a self discovering trip.”

The comment makes him snort, a smile of your own making its way into your lips as you twirl the phone line with a finger.

“I just got back.” He clarifies and then there’s pause that lasts for seconds before he’s speaking again. “Listen, I — Fuck, I don’t wanna do this over the phone. Can I come over?”

Your lips feel dry. “Oh. Yes. Yes, of course you can.” And then he’s hanging up after a promise of not taking too long.

The anxiety that bubbles in your stomach is unpleasant but the thought of finally seeing him overshadows it. Because see, there’s a few ways this could go and in the back of your head you’re sure, one hundred percent sure, that your friendship with him would never be the same. Because again, how does one go back to normal when everything had changed?

Your breath hitches when there’s a knock on the door, your heart race going worryingly up and when you finally open it, Yuta stands there with a grin on his lips and looking like he always did, with an old band t-shirt tucked inside his bell bottom jeans. There’s just one thing. “You got a haircut.” Is the first thing you say, dumbly.

“Yeah.” He says, running a hand through his now blonde, almost white, hair that has the sides shaved. It’s very bold looking but it suits him.

There’s no chit chatting then, he just steps inside and hugs you like you haven’t seen each other in years. You let yourself drown in it, shoulders slumping as you arms circle his back and he hums pleased. “I miss you.” He mumbles against your hair before breaking the hug and looking at you with eyes that say a lot more than his words. “I’m a fucking asshole, right? I’m sorry.”

You shrug. “Yeah, you are.”

That makes him laugh. A laugh that’s comfortable and familiar as the way he walks inside your house, asking for you mother and pouting when he finds out she’s not there. Familiar as the way he walks into your teen bedroom and looks like he fits there just as much as you do when he plops down on your bed. There’s a feeling of nostalgia to it that he must feel too by the way his eyes roam to the poster covered walls.

You sit down on the bed next to him when he pats the empty spot, his hand disappearing inside his pocket and then he’s getting something out of it. “Got you a gift.” He says jiggling around what you now see is a keychain.

“Wow, how considerate of you.” You tease, getting it with your hands and examining the object. “Thank you, Yuta.”

“No biggie.” He shrugs but the way he watches as you swirl it around your hand tells you that he hopes you like it.

It’s one of those ‘I love NY’ keychains, and in your mind you know very well he didn’t go that far so he must’ve bought it in a random store, the fact alone bringing a grin to your lips. But where there was supposed to be a ‘N’, there’s a very badly done scratch so that it reads ‘I love Y” instead. You can’t help the giggle that forms in your throat. “I love Yuta?”

His smile is as wide as possible. “That’s right.” He doesn’t even try to play it cool. “Make sure you put it somewhere visible so everyone can see it.”

You shake your head laughing, but you still promise “I will.”

There’s a silence that follows, one that is filled with his eyes not leaving yours. This is it, you think to yourself, because you both already know it, would be impossible if you didn’t. Still you ask with a quiet voice. “Do you know why I keep writing all these love songs?��

“Yes.” He breathes out without missing a beat. A simple reply was all you expected.

“How long did you know?”

“For a while.”

And then. “Why did it bother you? That I kissed Taeyong?” You play with the hem of your skirt, pulling at a single line of fabric that was hanging from it.

There’s a small smile forming on his lips as he raises his pierced eyebrow at you.“You really don’t know why?” You do now, you both know that. And you wish you had known sooner, but right now you want to hear what he has to say. “Because I’m selfish and a fucking coward.”

His confessions carries all the meaning you need and there’s a few things you could say. But this is about you and it’s about Yuta, your best friend and the one that had been by your side all this time. The two of you didn’t need big gestures, words that would make someone tear up or any theatricals. It was simply how it was meant to be, just the two of you.

“I’m not.” Is what you say and his lips part.

“What?” He asks just to be sure.

“I’m not a coward.”

And then you kiss him, with a press of your lips to his that could as well just be saying how much you had wanted this, how you think you would go crazy if you never got to taste him like this. Because intimacy with Yuta was something you rarely gave yourself the luxury of thinking about, too scared that you would dig a hole deeper than it already was. But now, as his hands hold your cheeks and he pushes you closer, kissing you with just a hint of desperation, you let yourself drown it it.

He does it with expertise that you can’t possibly match and in the back of your head you feel slightly shy for it. Still, there’s no time to think about that when he deepens the kiss, moving your head a little so he can do as he pleases, sucking on your bottom lip and earning a soft noise that comes from your chest.

You don’t know what’s better, the hand he moves to your neck, the one that holds your thigh, almost dipping inside your skirt or how he looks at you when he breaks the kiss a little breathless. His eyes don’t leave your face as he massages the area where his hand is and you think you could melt completely. “Wanted to do this for so long.” He breathes out and your eyes never leave his now heart shaped pink lips.

Nodding in agreement, you mutter teasingly. “Took you long enough.”

He chuckles, pressing another quick peck. “Then I better not waste any more time.”

He kisses you first this time and it’s with purpose, his tongue licking at your lips until you finally give him what he wants. He draws every little noise you make with the way his tongue slides against yours and how he nips at your lips, kissing you deeper with every second he gets.

You feel overwhelmed, because for one this is new and something you never thought you would be doing, in your teen bedroom of all places. The fact that Yuta starts kissing down your neck only helps, his tongue tickling your sensitive skin before he closes his lips around it, sucking enough that it could leave a bruise. For everyone to see, you think, as he presses a small kiss to it afterwards and then moves to the next spot.

He treats you with as much delicacy as his desperation allow him, manhandling you so that you’re laying more comfortably in your bed and he can hover over you as he kisses you again.

You hate feeling small, but like this, with Yuta on top of you, it makes arousal bubble in your body. And when his hand moves to dip inside of your skirt, gripping at your thigh you let that arousal be known in the form of a surprised moan let out against his lips.

He smirks at you, clearly pleased with himself as your glossy eyes stare up at him. “You’re so cute, baby.” You feel your cheeks warming up and you hate, as much as he seems to love it, that you’re acting like this in front of your best friend. “I could just eat you up.”

His words are followed by your lips forming a small ‘o’ and then by him kissing you again, this time not waiting to let his tongue move against yours in messy motions that make you crave more of anything he has to give you.

You don’t notice at first that he hands start to move again, but when he plays with the hem of your cotton panties you know that he’s not going to settle for that. It’s embarrassing how quickly you react when he presses his fingers to your covered clit, applying pressure to it and then giving a tentative roll. You cry as quietly as you manage and he watches as your eyes squeeze when he moves his fingers again.

You always had wondered how someone else's fingers would feel compared to your own and when Yuta finally, finally, dips his inside your panties, you are sure no fantasies could compare. He drags two of his fingers down to your entrance, feeling the embarrassing wetness that had gathered and bringing it up to your clit so the circling of his fingers is more pleasant.

He continues to watch you, eyes glued to your face as you let out all kind of noises and move your body as the hint of an orgasm makes your entire body tingle. You feel so close already that you wonder if he can tell.

His movements are slow, almost teasing, and when he kisses you again his tongue moves in the exact speed as his fingers, in a way that makes you clench around nothing. As if sensing that he shifts his hand, your body almost arching from the bed when he dips one long finger inside of you. If he didn’t know about the extents of your inexperience, he knows now with how your walls hug tightly just one of his fingers. The groan he lets out at the feeling is one of the prettiest sounds you had ever heard.

He moves his finger slowly, as if testing the waters and when he curls it just right you gasp at the new feeling. “There?” He asks with a grin and you just nod dumbly, biting on your lips enough to bruise.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you wonder if the other girls he had, had came this fast, because when he combines the thrusting of his curled finger to his thumb circling your clit, you feel enough to explode. Doesn’t help that he says his next proposition.

“Let me have a taste, hmm?” His words are muffled from where his lips are pressed on your neck and there’s a very clear mix of feelings that happen inside of your head. You cry out, clearly affected by the proposition and the mere thought of his wet lips against your warmth makes you clench around his fingers. He feels it, of course he does, because he lets out a small moan and grinds down on you a little, his hardness very much there. “Yeah?” He sounds breathless.

“I—I’m.” You gasp when he moves his fingers faster as if to entice you. But this is the extent of your inexperience, the mere thought of him eating you out makes you so overwhelmed that you can’t give in just yet. “I don’t… I-I’m not ready.”

Your voice sounds small but he doesn’t even blink at your denial, instead he kisses you deeply in reassurement. “It’s ok, sweet girl.” He presses down on your clit, giving you exactly the friction you need. “I’ll eat your pretty pussy another day.”

And then his fingers are moving faster, enough that it takes you no time to come with a loud moan that sounds a lot like his name and your hands gripping tightly at the bed sheets. You shake, body trembling as you try to ground yourself but the orgasm is too shattering.

When he removes his fingers from inside you, he licks then clean before moving your shirt upwards so your stomach is exposed. He moves to kneels between your open legs and you’re left confused until he starts unzipping his pants, asking a soft. “Okay?” To which you nod excitedly.

He doesn't ask you to do anything, instead he dips a hand inside his underwear, barely pushing the rest of his pants down as he pulls his cock free. It’s a sight that leaves you breathless, the way he thumbs at the head and smears pre cum around and when that’s not enough, his fingers move inside the mess of your panties, gathering your arousal and bringing it to his hardness in what is the most erotic view you had ever seen.

The first stroke is slow and he bites his lips, looking at you with a fucked out expression. “See what you do to me?” He asks in a groan and you nod in your little haze, eyes not knowing where to look at.

His strokes get quickly faster, with swirls of his wrist and it doesn’t take long for him to let out a strangled moan as he comes with thick spurts in your stomach. You watch it all in awe, the way he twitches in his palm and his eyes fight to stay open. It’s like suddenly you know why there are so many songs about sex.

Afterwards when you’re cleaned and laying on the bed lazily, Yuta plays an unknown melody on your old acoustic guitar with a little inexpertise, humming what you think is the start of a song still in the works.

The sun is about to set and you feel a weird sensation of contentment, a spark blossoming in your chest. You had kissed your best friend, done things with him that reached a level of intimacy you were still learning to navigate, but everything still felt the same.

“Doyoung told me you’re going to sign the contract.” You say, breaking the comfortable silence.

His eyes don’t leave the guitar strings. “Of course, can’t leave my own band.” He deadpans jokingly and you scoff, nudging him with your feet.

“What if they make us do songs we don’t want to?

“I’m sure you’ll scare them off with your attitude.” He laughs when you gasp, lurching at him but stopping because you couldn’t attack him properly with the guitar on his lap.

Noticing that, he smiles, one eyebrow raising at you as he lets the guitar down and opens his arms almost in a challenge for you to hit him. Which you do, playfully before you’re letting yourself fall putty into his chest. “I don’t have an attitude.” You whine.

He huffs. “Yes you do. But it’s very charming.”

Rolling your eyes you hug him closer, basking in the feeling of having him here with you and the comforting knowledge that he feels the same way you do. “Do you think we’ll be able to handle it? Fame and whatever else comes with it?”

“We were born for it, baby.” He says with a cocky grin, always overwhelmingly confident. “I told you, you and me, we can do anything we want together.”

And that’s all you need to hear.

❀

“Back to earth, pretty girl.” Yuta’s voice snaps you out of another daydream, some ideas for a new album and whatever else filed your mind these days. He sounds slightly demanding but you don’t mind at all.

“Sorry.” You mumble and he gives you a grin that you can’t help but match.

There’s the start of a melody playing in the big studio that was rented for the new album. Johnny says something and you adjust the guitar strap, feeling the familiar and comfortable weight of it as your fingers find the strings with ease.

You glance at Yuta another time and he’s still looking at you, mouthing something you can’t quite understand but by the silly smile on his face you know exactly what it is. “Love you too.” You mouth right back at him, shaking your head at his silliness.

And then the song starts.

❀❀❀❀❀

tag list: @jupitersmark @euphoricdreamies @peachybun-01

#yuta smut #yuta scenarios #nct smut #nct scenarios #i reread this last night and realized its not at all how i wanted it to be #it could be so much better :(#but i hope you guys still enjoy it

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tripleaxeldiaz · 4 years

Text

subtle as a brick in the small of my back

Eddie’s proposing to Buck. The whole team finds out first. It goes about as well as expected (not well at all)

Or: 5 times the team almost blows Eddie’s cover, and 1 time it’s already blown

read on ao3

In retrospect, Eddie really did this to himself.

But, in his defense, he had to tell Maddie — she was Buck’s sister, his only blood relative, and the only one who would honestly tell him if the ring was horribly ugly. And he had to tell Bobby — the guy was practically Buck’s step-father, and he wanted to avoid any possible lecture from his mother about not being “considerate” or “chivalrous” when it came to asking a man’s pseudo son to marry him.

He should have known, however, that it wasn’t just telling those two — he should have known it was telling Bobby, who would tell Athena, who would tell Hen, who would tell Chimney, who had already heard it from Maddie, and who was now practically skipping around the firehouse announcing it to everyone else.

Eddie watches from the kitchen as Chim flits around like a damn bumblebee spreading the good news about Buck and Eddie’s pending engagement. He’s not a holy man, but he prays to whoever is listening that Buck doesn’t find out until Eddie actually gets to ask him himself.

Whoever hears him has the worst sense of humor.

Buck and Eddie don’t like to be apart after bad calls.

This one could have been worse — four car pile up in the carpool lane with three critical injuries, all kids. They were in the ICU and expected to make full recoveries, but it’s still not easy pulling mangled bodies the same size as Christoper out of wrecked cars.

They sat close in the truck coming back to the station, thighs pressed together, shoulders overlapping. They changed together in the locker room, never far away enough that they couldn’t feel the others’ warmth. They climbed the stairs together to the lounge, Eddie’s hand around Buck’s wrist, making sure he stayed upright until they could fall onto the couch.

They’re better now, overall. They checked in with Carla and Chris (who were apparently in the process of an intricate arts and crafts project that required hot glue and a pound of glitter. Eddie can’t wait to clean that out of the house for the next 10 years). The TV in the lounge is softly playing a rerun of Chopped. Eddie is sitting in the corner of the couch, feet on the coffee table, fingers running through Buck’s short hair where his head is settled in his lap. His other hand rests on Buck’s chest, right over his heart, and he listens to Buck’s critical commentary of each chef’s use of ingredients. They know the bell will probably ring in the next 15 minutes and they’ll be right back in the truck, but for now they sink into this brief moment of peace.

Eddie’s so focused on the show and Buck’s apparently extensive knowledge of ways to prepare salmon that he doesn’t even notice Bobby coming over until the couch dips as he sits down.

“You boys doing okay?” he asks, a soft smile on his lips. Buck adjusts to see him better, sitting up to lean on Eddie’s chest, Eddie’s arm slung over his shoulder.

“Yeah, we’re good. Chris has a surprise craft for us when we get home, though I think the mess he makes will be more surprising than anything else.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, craning his neck to kiss the crown of Buck’s head. When he looks back at Bobby, the look the captain has on his face seems...sentimental. A little too sentimental, if Eddie’s being honest.

Buck must notice it too. He cocks his head and asks, “Are you okay Cap? You’re lookin’ a little misty over there.”

Bobby smiles and shakes his head, eyes shining. “I’m good, kid. Just...really excited for you guys.”

Eddie narrows his eyes. That’s a weird thing to say.

“Excited?” Buck asks, cocking his head even more. “What, that we didn’t get crushed on the highway?”

Bobby laughs. “Well yeah, of course. But also, you know, just excited that you guys have each other to lean on in the bad times like this. And you’ll have each other for a really long time. Forever, hopefully.”

Now Eddie’s eyes are wide in panic. Seriously? You’ll have each other for a really long time? He gives Bobby a look over Buck’s head that hopefully reads as If you don’t stop talking right now I’ll spray you with the hose and I won’t even feel bad about it.

Buck — beautiful, slightly oblivious Buck — just turns to look at Eddie, a smile lighting up his face (a relief to see after the past few hours). “Yeah, I’m pretty excited about that too.”

Eddie melts a little, returning Buck’s smile. Before he can fully respond, the bell rings, and Buck jumps to his feet. He stretches, shaking off any lingering cobwebs of their last call before heading into another one. He kisses Eddie’s cheek as he passes to head to the stairs.

He watches him bound down to the truck, still smiling, before turning to Bobby with narrowed eyes again.

“I’m pretty sure my 11 year old is better at being subtle than you are.”

Bobby claps his shoulder as he follows Buck to the stairs. “Don’t worry, I don’t think he noticed anything. Consider that a precursor to my speech at the wedding.”

Eddie sighs, hopes he’s right, and follows the team to the truck.

~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie stares at Maddie’s kitchen island in the same awestruck confusion he usually has on Buffridays. This week’s spread consists of lasagna, garlic knots, summer rolls, banh mi, tacos, and what he’s pretty sure is fried cheesecake. He feels Buck come up next to him, hip checking him as he gets one of everything on his plate before returning to the couch to pick their movie for the night. Eddie follows suit, skipping the cheesecake but promising he’ll come back later, before dropping down next to his boyfriend, who immediately turns and gives him a quick peck on the temple.

Eddie does not blush and smile like an idiot, despite this being a regular thing that has occurred for the entire two year duration of their relationship. He doesn’t. He’s totally used to how much and how openly Buck loves him. It’s fine.

Maddie walks over while they bicker about what movie to watch and sits on Buck’s other side. She clears her throat, halting their argument between Booksmart and Heathers, and pulls something out of her pocket.

Buck turns toward her and freezes. Eddie looks over as well and sees her holding a scrap of dark blue fabric. It’s inky and rich and speckled with white dots, almost like…

“The Milky Way Dress? Maddie, I can’t believe you still have this, why—”

“I finally got around to cleaning out the last of my boxes, pretty much a bunch of old stuff I was not ready to deal with when I left.” She smiles, wistful and a little sad. “I found this and just thought it was time to pass it on to you.”

Buck’s in shock, Eddie can tell. His eyes are wide and his mouth hangs open like it did the first time Christopher referred to the two of them as “his dads”, or like it did when Eddie told him that he wanted to spend the rest of their lives together (and no that was not a proposal, Eddie was hopped up on drugs after falling off a second story roof at a call. He barely remembers it, save for the look on Buck’s face. Doesn’t count.).

Buck takes the fabric reverently, turning it in his hands and running it through his fingers. He turns to Eddie, a soft smile on his face, and Eddie places his hand on his thigh reassuringly. He can tell there’s a story, and he’s happy to wait until Buck’s ready to share.

“This is— wow. So my grandma was one of the main people who raised me, along with Maddie. And she was crazy in the best way, very Miss Frizzle. She used to make all her own clothes with crazy fabric, and she always made me a matching shirt or belt or something. She got this Milky Way fabric once, and I was just obsessed with it, I wouldn’t shut up about it. So she went all out — she made me a shirt, a belt, a tie, a damn suit out of the stuff. I wore them as much as humanly possible for the next few years before my parents ‘accidentally’ donated them away.”

“You wore that suit for picture day until you were 13,” Maddie reminds him.

“Yeah, exactly.” Buck laughs wetly, wiping at his eyes. “But Grandma loved it as much as I did and always wore the matching dress when I came to visit. When she died when I was 16, she made it very clear in her will that she wanted to be buried in that dress. And Maddie, genius that she is, cut some scraps off the dress so we could always have a part of her. I lost mine in one of my billion moves, but now…”

“I kept part of this scrap too, but I wanted to give most of it to you,” Maddie says. “I know how close you two were. I used it as my ‘something old’ and ‘something blue’ at my wedding, so I figured you could use it too for...I don’t know, something. Down the line.”

She catches Eddie’s eye in a silent apology. He’s glad she caught herself because he’s still a little too wrapped up in watching Buck relive all these obviously happy memories to register much of anything else going on.

He watches Buck for a little longer as he folds the fabric back up, placing it in his back pocket. He turns and wraps his sister in a patented Buckley Bear Hug, laughing as he kisses the top of her head.

“Thank you, Mads. Seriously, this is...perfect. It’s just perfect.”

“Of course, I’m just glad I found it for you. And seriously, don’t lose it. I have a feeling you’re going to need it soon.” She pats his cheek fondly, sending a not so sly wink to Eddie.

Eddie somehow manages to keep his groan in his head as Buck settles between them again, picking up the remote.

“Alright gang, I really think the only way we’ll be able to balance out all this sappy stuff is with the glorious violence of Heathers…”

~~~~~~~~~~

Laughter erupts as soon as Eddie gets to the front door of the Grant-Nash house, so he waits a minute before knocking. The door swings open, and he’s greeted by the sounds of soft jazz, the smells of home cooking, and the vision of his boyfriend looking happy, relaxed, and definitely buzzed.

“Ah, my knight in shining armor, come to fetch me away!” Buck smiles his lopsided smile as he lets Eddie in and kisses him soundly. He tastes like Merlot and chocolate and just Buck. Eddie’s pretty sure he can get drunk off that taste alone.

“More like your chauffeur in a shining Silverado, but being a knight sounds much more fun.” Buck falls into a fit of giggles, his head collapsing onto Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie can’t help but laugh along with him. Few things fill him with as much joy as seeing Buck so unabashedly happy, and he’ll relish in it for as long as he can, whenever he can.

Buck grabs his hand and pulls him towards the kitchen. “Come sit, Athena said she has some wedding stuff for me before we go.”

Eddie’s stomach drops past his feet, possibly all the way to the center of the earth.

His internal monologue goes off the rails — dammit he should have asked by now, none of the big romantic plans he’s come up with seem good enough so he just keeps waiting, but maybe since it’s all ruined he’ll just do it tomorrow morning when they’re eating breakfast or tomorrow night after they put Chris to bed, and Jesus Christ he should never tell any of their friends anything ever again—

Pull it together, Diaz. Be chill. Maybe it’s nothing. Of all people, Athena would never break a secret so easily. She’s a cop for crying out loud.

“Wedding stuff?” he asks in a voice way too squeaky to ever be considered “chill”.

Thankfully, alcohol is an exceptional buffer to Buck noticing Eddie in a full on crisis. He turns to him with bright eyes and says, “Yeah, for Maddie! She told Athena she’s been dropping hints to Chim for a while now and thinks he’ll pop the question soon. She wants to get a jump start on things so they can have the wedding by the end of the year.”

Well now he’s pissed for an entirely different reason.

Before he can hit send on a text to Chim — what the hell dude are you trying to steal my thunder??? — Athena comes back to the table with three boxes full of binders, pamphlets, and fabric samples. Eddie stands to help, and she gives him a look he can’t quite read before flashing a smile at Buck.

“This should be everything Bobby had. There’s lists of venues with how many people they hold and how much they charge for food. There’s samples for place settings, centerpieces, and decorations. And there’s lists of bakeries for the cake, plus what allergies they can cater to and price estimates. I hope to God there are no other boxes but if there are, I’ll let you know.”

“Wow,” Buck marvels as he flips through a book of flower arrangements. “Bobby really doesn’t half-ass anything, does he?”

Athena chuckles as she finishes the last of her wine. “No he does not. Sometimes it’s a gift, sometimes it’s a curse that clutters up my closet for three years.”

“Well thanks very much Athena, I know Maddie will be thrilled to not plan a second wedding completely from scratch.” He hugs her tight and kisses her cheek before grabbing a box and heading to the door. “I’ll keep these safe for her until Chim gets his ass in gear. Babe, can you get the other two?”

Eddie’s already in the process of grabbing them before Buck finishes his question. He smiles soft and bright when he sees, kissing Eddie’s temple. “You really are my knight in shining armor.”

Eddie’s sure he’s got hearts in his eyes as he watches Buck leave and load up the truck. He’s only able to turn away when he feels Athena come up next to him.

“Speaking of getting asses in gear…”

“I know,” Eddie sighs. “I’m working on it. I just...it needs to be perfect. That’s what he deserves.”

“Honey, it’ll be perfect because it’s you asking. That’s all he cares about. Don’t think too hard about it.”

“Well looks like I have to do it sooner rather than later anyway. I cannot believe Chim’s gonna—”

“Oh, he’s not.”

Eddie squints. “He’s not?”

“No, those are for you guys, not Maddie. I really needed them out of the house and didn’t know how long I’d be waiting.” She levels Eddie with a look again, and he somehow feels like he’s 16 and his mom wasn’t “mad” at him for doing something dumb, just “disappointed”. “I already gave Maddie a heads up so she’ll play along. Just try to ask him before we all start going grey, okay?”

“Yes ma’am.” She smiles and pats his cheek before leading him out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve seen these in person since I was in high school,” Buck says as Hen sits down across from him at the kitchen table, dropping a bunch of small, thick packages Eddie can’t quite see from his post at the coffee machine.

He blearily grabs the two cups of coffee he made, making his way over to the table. He places one mug in front of Buck, earning him a relieved smile and wink as he sits down, looking over to see what Hen brought in. The table is covered in developed pictures from old disposable cameras, dozens of glossy frames of people in suits and cocktail dresses laughing, a beautiful dessert table, something that looks suspiciously like a conga line.

“Are these from an old LAFD gala or something?” Eddie asks as Buck snorts out a laugh. He holds a picture up so Eddie can see Chimney with a tie around his head, perched on someone’s shoulders, yelling at something out of frame. “Oh that’s definitely getting blown up to poster size.”

“Actually,” Hen says, “these are from mine and Karen’s wedding.”

Eddie freezes mid sip of coffee, eyes snapping to Hen, who just stares back at him with feigned innocence and barely concealed glee. Hen’s smart, smarter than all of them put together, and while he knows she won’t tell Buck anything outright, he also knows she is thoroughly enjoying this opportunity to make Eddie squirm.

“Whoa,” Buck says. “There’s got to be at least a thousand pictures here. How’d you get so many in one night?”

“We had a few cameras on every table and told the guests to go nuts. We have some professional shots of the reception, but we wanted to see it how everyone else saw it too. And we decided to wait until our 10 year anniversary to get them developed so we could have a little walk down memory lane.”

“Huh, that’s a pretty good idea,” Buck murmurs thoughtfully, still absorbed in all the pictures in front of him. Eddie agrees, the cameras are a great idea, and he tucks that into the filing cabinets of his brain to use when they have their wedding.

If they ever have their wedding.

Eddie’s working on it. Really. He’s got the skeleton of a plan that will be beautiful and romantic and not too big, but big enough that Buck will know without a doubt how much Eddie loves him. So it’ll be soon, okay? Very soon. As long as someone doesn’t ruin everything before his plan can actually get set into motion.

He sees Hen’s smile get bigger, like she can see Eddie’s brain starting to overheat a little.

She leans over the table, pointing to one of the pictures. “I also recommend doing a dessert table instead of a big ugly cake. You can do a bunch of good stuff too like cupcakes, pie, we just went to a wedding with a candy bar…”

“A candy bar!?” Buck looks at Eddie like a kid on Christmas, and Eddie files that idea away too (while also noting that he’ll have to remind Buck that they probably can’t only have gummy worms at a candy bar).

“And you guys should definitely have a live band, they’re much better at getting people to dance than a DJ.”

Eddie clocks the “you guys” and starts sweating a little more. Hen notices too, eyes widening at Eddie like she knows she went a little too far.

Buck, by some miracle, still seems caught up in the fantasy of a 12-foot table covered in gummy worms.

He looks at Hen, eyebrows furrowed. “You don’t think a DJ is better? I feel like they have way better music usually. Live bands have, like, the same seven songs, and one of them is always ‘Footloose’.”

They continue to debate the pros and cons as Eddie stands to put his mug in the sink, squeezing Buck’s shoulder as he passes. Buck grabs his hand, kissing the inside of his wrist before letting him go, all without breaking conversation on whether “Shout!” or “The Macarena” is a more annoying song. Eddie’s stomach flutters like it always does with Buck’s absentminded displays of affection, but the butterflies also seem to be saying It’s time to get your shit together and ask this man for his hand in marriage, idiot.

Eddie closes his eyes, resting his head on the cabinet above the sink.

The butterflies are right. A little rude, but still right.

~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie knew Chimney was going to be the hardest loose end to round up.

He had stood at the top of the stairs, arms crossed, as Chim came up after telling the station (and probably the entire city of Los Angeles) that Eddie and Buck were getting engaged. “Chim, man, look—”

“No worries, Eddie,” Chim said, holding a hand up to cut Eddie off. “Cross my heart, I will not say a word to Buck. I’m sure you have something big and sappy in the works, and I will not be the person to screw that up.”

Eddie deflated a bit, still eyeing Chim warily. Chim just smiled back, clapping a hand on his shoulder and squeezing reassuringly. “Look, I’m so, so happy for you guys. You’ve both been through the ringer and still managed to find each other and create a beautiful life for yourselves. You guys really deserve it, and I—” He cleared his throat as his eyes filled with tears. He opened his mouth like he wanted to keep going, but he pulled Eddie into a tight hug instead.

“Thanks Chim, that’s...that’s really sweet.” Eddie felt his voice crack around the lump in his throat as he patted his friend on the back. They pulled away, laughing quietly and wiping their eyes.

“Plus,” Chimney said, punching Eddie softly on the shoulder, “we’re basically in-laws now, so there’s definitely a bro code. Add that to the firefighter bro code, and I’m double coded, man.”

“So you’ll...double keep the secret?”

“Exactly.” Chim patted his back as he walked toward the kitchen. Eddie watched him go, still trying to put together the double code thing that was definitely not actually a thing.

In his own weird way, Chim had seemed sincere in keeping his mouth shut. Eddie really thought that had been that.

That had most certainly not been that.

Because since Chim couldn’t let out his excitement with words, he had to let it out in other ways.

Namely, tears. An ungodly amount of tears.

The whole team is in the lounge, flipping channels until they land on Say Yes to the Dress. Chim blinks at the TV, then whips his head to where Buck and Eddie are squished together on the couch. Eddie catches his gaze, watching his eyes begin to water before he’s up and running down the stairs. Hen barks out a laugh and tries to hide it in a cough. Bobby shakes his head and looks toward the sky, either asking God for strength or to smite him where he sits.

They’re at the kitchen table early in the morning, heads bent together as Buck shows Eddie a TikTok on his phone (Eddie doesn’t get the deal with these things, but they make Buck laugh so hard he snorts so he’ll allow it). They’re startled by a strangled sob from across the room and look up to see Chim rushing past them to the coffee machine rubbing his eyes, his shoulders still shaking as he adds milk to his mug. Buck shoots Eddie a confused look, and Eddie just shrugs helplessly before shooting a death glare to the back of Chim’s head.

Buck and Chim are chatting in the locker room when Eddie arrives for shift, dropping his bag next to Buck and giving him a quick peck hello on the cheek. Buck smiles at him, reaching up to push back a lock of hair that had fallen on Eddie’s forehead in his hustle to be on time (he’s growing his hair out again because he likes it that way, okay, not because Buck told him he looked like a sexy Superman when it was longer). They turn back to Chim in time to see tears begin to fall in earnest, which he quickly blames on allergies before scooting past them and out of the room.

“Is Chim like...good?” Buck asks, watching Chim walk away blowing his nose in his shirt. All Eddie had done was smile (probably a little dreamily) at some dumb joke Buck made, but that was enough apparently.

“He’s fine,” Eddie replies quickly. “He’s just...you know. Going through it. I guess.”

Bobby snorts from behind the stove as he flips a grilled cheese.

Buck sighs. “Should we remind him about therapy at least? I’m just worried he’s gonna be perpetually dehydrated or something.”

“I don’t know if therapy is what he needs,” Bobby says, looking pointedly at Eddie. Eddie throws a napkin at him.

Buck turns to Bobby confused but is quickly distracted by the hot sandwich placed in front of him. They launch into a debate on the best combination of cheese for a grilled cheese, Chim’s hydration levels seemingly forgotten.

Luckily for everyone, they’re almost in the clear. Reservations have been made, Chris’s sleeping arrangements have been confirmed, and Eddie’s even picked out an outfit. Everything is finally ready.

Eddie’s excited, more excited than he can remember being in a very long time, possibly since Christopher was born.

He also feels like he’s gonna hurl.

Hopefully that’s a good sign.

~~~~~~~~~~

He settled on recreating their first official date. It’s just cheesy enough that Buck will get a kick out of telling the story over and over and simple enough that Eddie can handle everything without involving one single other person.

It’s really nothing crazy: dinner at their favorite Italian restaurant and watching the sunset on the beach, brown bagging a bottle of wine like they’re in college. Eddie even knows what he’s going to say already, going over it again and again in his head so he can get everything out perfectly.

That first date, Eddie had accidentally told Buck he loved him. He hadn’t planned on it at all, but the words had been bubbling under his skin for so long at that point it was a relief to get them out in the open. He was immediately terrified he had said them too fast, too soon, but Buck simply pushed him back into the sand and kissed him soft and sincere, more teeth than anything once they both gave up on holding back their smiles.

He doesn’t want to be so caught off guard by his own brain this time. Not for something this important.

But that all has to wait until tomorrow.

Tonight, Chris is with Abuela (who slyly offered to keep him all weekend so Eddie and Buck could “celebrate properly”, which Eddie was both thankful for and mortified by, hearing from his grandma), they had ordered Chinese, and are now watching a movie that (blessedly) has no cartoon characters randomly bursting into song.

It’s normal, domestic, something they do at least once a week.

And yet Eddie feels like his skin is on fire, his heart beating so fast he’s sure it’ll break through his ribs at any moment.

He’s looking at Buck, feels his chest on his back, his strong arm around his shoulders, drawing absent-minded shapes across his chest as his attention is focused on Bill and Ted meeting Rufus in the phone booth for the first time. The light of the TV highlights Buck’s jaw and cheekbones, casts an ethereal glow on his unkempt curls. He laughs at something, a rumble deep in his chest, head tipping back slightly exposing the long line of his neck.

He’s beautiful. Stunning, inside and out. The most amazing thing that has ever deemed Eddie worthy of attention and love, aside from his son.

And if he doesn’t ask him to be his forever right now, this minute, he’s absolutely going to explode.

He’s off the couch and striding toward the bedroom before his brain even tries to stop him. He hears Buck faintly call, “Baby? Are you okay?” but is too busy rifling through his sock drawer to answer. He holds the blue velvet box firmly in his hand and takes a deep breath.

He had been waiting and planning and trying his damnedest to keep this all under wraps so by the time he asked, everything would be perfectly romantic and swoon-worthy, a story they could tell their kids and grandkids and great-grandkids to inspire them to find a love like theirs. A moment so perfect that there would be no doubts about how desperately Eddie needs Buck in his life until he’s buried in the ground, and probably even after that. Buck deserves to know that Eddie would go to the ends of the earth to make him happy, have it spelled out in the stars just how deeply he makes Eddie feel loved and safe, and that he’d do anything to make sure Buck feels that in return, always.

But, really, they’ve never been perfect. They’re messy sometimes, and gritty. Too loud or too soft or too much or not enough. They push and pull at each other in good and bad ways, sometimes too far, but sometimes just enough that they come out even better together and apart than they were before.

They’ve never been conventional. So why bother starting now?

When he comes back to the living room, Buck is standing, movie paused, worrying at his hands as he watches Eddie walk in. He freezes as Eddie comes up to him before sinking to one knee, eyes widening as the box opens, revealing a simple, black, titanium band.

And then he’s laughing. Full body, shoulders shaking, like Eddie getting ready to bare his heart and soul to him is the funniest damn thing in the world.

Before he can dive too deeply into his wounded pride, Buck’s kneeling too, placing his hands on either cheek, eyes bright with a little mischief and a lot of love as he says, “It’s about damn time, Diaz.”

Eddie blinks, feels his shoulders slump a little. He wishes he was surprised, but he’s really not.

“Who told you?”

“Oh, no one told me, like, specifically. But Maddie finding our grandma’s dress? And Athena conveniently having all of their old wedding planning stuff? Plus, Chim hasn’t been able to look at me without crying for weeks. I don’t know if you know this, but our friends are really bad at being low key.”

Oh, Eddie knows. He had just been hoping (in vain, it seems) that Buck didn’t.

He breathes out a laugh and shakes his head, leaning into Buck’s hands still framing his face. “Well, can I at least do my speech? I have it memorized and everything. It was supposed to be for tomorrow, but…” He gestures vaguely, encompassing the whole, beautiful mess this has turned into.

“Of course you can,” Buck says, his smile growing by the second. “But hurry up, because I can’t wait to marry the shit out of you.”

And who is Eddie to argue with that?

He takes one of Buck’s hands, squeezing tight. He already knows the answer, but that doesn’t make him any less nervous.

“Evan Buckley, you are the most amazing man I have ever met in my life, and probably the most annoying.” Buck laughs again at that, and Eddie feels all of his insides swoop, his heart filling with so much adoration it’s probably about to crack. “You are unendingly selfless, unbelievably headstrong, kind and gentle, but would kill a man for the people you love without thinking twice. You have shown me more about what it means to love and be loved than I ever thought I could know. You are also responsible for about 75% of my grey hairs.” They’re both crying now, not even bothering to wipe the tears away, wearing them like badges of honor for each other. “You make me a better firefighter, a better friend, a better father, and a better man. I want to spend the rest of my life making sure you know how much I love you, every minute of every hour of every day.” He takes the ring out of the box, holding it up between them. “I want to have your back forever. Will you marry me?”

He barely has the question out before Buck is tackling him to the floor, kissing him so deeply he feels it in his atoms. He gets the ring on at some point, lips never leaving Buck’s, and they get lost in each other, in happiness, in love, in excitement at getting to spend their lives together, as a family.

Nothing leading up to this was perfect. But he wouldn’t trade any of it — their chaotic lives, their ups and downs, their crazy, unsubtle family — for anything in the world.

But next time he’s planning a surprise, he will absolutely be keeping it to himself.

#buddie #9-1-1 #911 fox #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie fic #it's been TWO YEARS since i wrote anything and these two finally broke me #that and the quarantine probably #ficcery #soft eddie rights

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bookofsummer · 4 years

Text

Arctic Recovery 2 - Chapter 1

Taglist: @isanyonetoknow

In the year 2035, there was an explosion over the North Pole. Some blamed it on climate change, others on government testing, and the kids all simply believed it was Santa, testing a new sleigh.

And while the government was not the cause of the explosion, they did do a bang up job of getting involved with it as fast as they possibly could. What they found up there was unlike anything anyone had ever seen before, though there are definitely those who would claim otherwise.

What they found up there was a ship. Crashed and burning, with two creatures who are very similar to humans, and yet definitely, absolutely not human.

In the year 2035, an alien ship crash landed on earth. Two subjects were recovered, both severely injured, one only barely clinging to life, and they were brought to the fabled Area 51 to recover, and to be observed.

What was left of the ship was brought to a bright, well seasoned mechanic named Brennan Saddler, an early grad at the top of his class, a well known name among those who need work done on vehicles of all genres. Brennan’s touched on all makes of cars, and planes, even handled a rocket ship or two, and when the remains of an alien vessel were discovered he was the first choice to bring in to try and piece it back together.

Only issue with that plan is that, after three days of combing through the pieces, and placing them in their spots like a jigsaw puzzle, Brennan realized he had no idea what fueled the thing, or even what exactly it was made out of. Obviously alien, which was very cool, Brennan has quite a few sessions of just laughing as he marveled the pieces, however it meant that he wasn’t sure how to put it back together.

Welding didn’t seem to work, glue would fizz and burn off of the stuff, there were two pieces that, when pressed together, simply seemed to stick that way, but no other pieces did the same.

After another few weeks, he put in a request with the man who would check on him every day to see, and maybe try and speak, to the aliens who landed with the ship, maybe they would be able to give him more insight.

He was told that they would see what they could do, and for a month he waited, toying with the pieces, eventually he even found a box among the wreckage that was actually fully intact. A box about the size of a shoebox, with a blank screen on the front, with alien characters carved into it. He figured it must be some sort of black box, and he puts it in his office.

A month after he asks to see the aliens, they come back to him, tell him that one of them has died from their injuries, but they did get him a chance to meet with the other.

They stress to him that they’re not sure how intelligent, exactly, the alien is, he doesn’t communicate in any significant way, that they’ve found, at least, and it lowers Brennan’s hopes of finding anything out, but he needs to try.

It’s another three weeks after he’s given the news he’ll be allowed to see the alien before they actually go to any significant efforts to schedule a day for it, working at the speed of government, his mother would say. Finally they settle on a date.

After another month where he will have to wait.

So Brennan tries to focus on the ship. He can’t find any sort of obvious power source, he can’t figure out how the pieces go back together- well, he knows how they go together, just doesn’t have any way of making it stay- and all he’s got is that silver box with the screen.

He drops it onto his desk, in the back corner of the workshop one day, and he looks it over, finger grazing along the… metal? For some sort of seam or seal where the thing opens, but it is, astonishingly, seamless. The screen is the only thing on there that signifies that the thing is anything more than a hunk of… well metal.

So he breaks out the tools. Hammer first, but no matter how hard he hits it it doesn’t leave a dent, not even on the screen. Next he goes at it with a drill and a sizeable bit, but it only scratches the surface, never penetrates, and Brennan throws the box at a wall. He’s hoping that maybe, hidden inside that shoe-box sized piece of shit, is the blueprints or something to the damn ship, or something he can work with. He even calls up his friend who works construction and puts it under a jackhammer, but it still doesn’t budge.

He’s about to throw it at another wall when the office door opens, and a woman in a pressed pantsuit is staring at him with wide eyes. He lowers the box, dropping it back to the desk, “Can I help ya?” He asks, rubbing a thumb at one of the scuffs on the box, only for it to wipe right off. He rolls his eyes at it, and turns to the woman, who seems to have been waiting until she had his full attention.

“Hi, Brennan, right? Brennan Saddler?”

“Yeah, Yeah, that’s me.” He nods, wiping his hands on his jeans and offering her one for a shake, “You are?”

She looks at his hand with a look he could only describe as wary, and then steels herself before grabbing his hand and shaking it, “Doctor Jenna White, I’ll be acting as your monitor while you’re meeting with AR2, tomorrow.”

Brennan stares at her for a moment, then turns to look at the swimsuit calendar that’s tacked to the wall, “Shit, that is tomorrow innit?” He mumbles and sighs, “Finally, feel like I’ve been sitting here with my thumbs up my ass for months.” Dr. White doesn’t seem all that impressed by his metaphor, and her face twists a little at the idea of it.

“Well, it is, in fact, tomorrow. I’ll be there to keep an eye on you and ensure that no… Confidential information makes its way to the public.” Jenna watches him, one finely plucked eyebrow raised as if she’s expecting an answer. Brennan just stares back for a long moment, before he ‘oh’s in realization she’s expecting a response.

“Yeah, no, definitely, the whole alien thing ain’t public, and I will hundred percent respect that. I ain’t planning on telling everybody I meet about the alien thing.”

Jenna nods, “Good. Now, as for today, I am here to introduce myself, and lay out for you the ground rules for your visit with AR2-”

“Wait, real quick, what in god’s name does AR2 stand for?”

“Arctic recovery two,” she explains, crossing the room to sit in one of the chairs in front of Brennan’s desk, “As it was recovered in the arctic, and it was the second one we registered, it is AR2.” She nods, and she folds her hands on her lap, “Now, the rules?” She gestures to the chair across from her, and Brennan heaves a sigh. Getting told what to do in his own damn office. He still does it, though.

The rules that Dr. White lays out for him basically sum up to three basic concepts, don’t go into the chamber, if he somehow manages to get into the chamber, don’t fucking touch the alien, and if he somehow manages to get into the chamber, and touch the alien, he will very likely face some serious consequences. Dr. White stresses that part.

So Brennan’s only choice is to speak to the alien through a pane of glass, and his chances of being able to swing that are extremely slim. However, he’s not stupid, he has a plan. Sure, they might not speak the same language, but that’s what visual aids are for.

After Dr. White takes her leave, Brennan digs his phone out and wanders around the ship, taking picture after picture. He snaps pictures well into the night to make sure he has every angle he could possibly get to try and communicate with the alien.

He finds himself wondering what it looks like, after midnight, when the exhaustion is starting to seep in but he isn’t ready to stop taking pictures yet. He digs through the debris to find what he believes was the seat the aliens used, and it’s… Fairly normal looking, at least to him. It looks like a plain ass chair, like in a car. It’s almost disappointing when he looks it over, and mocks up how the belt system was set up, and he figures out that the aliens had to have been humanoid for the set up it has.

Not that there’s anything wrong with them being humanoid, but he had been lowkey hoping for something much more interesting.

That night when he sleeps he dreams of cooler aliens.

His meeting is set for early afternoon, but he’s got himself ready to go, with a plan on how to try and communicate with pictures, by around eleven, a few hours early. When Dr. White shows up she seems legitimately surprised by his eagerness, but Brennan points out that he is, in fact, meeting an alien for the first time ever, and she seems to relax after that. She leads him outside to a sleek black car with dark windows, and a driver who holds the back door open for both of them. Brennan gives the guy a nod, and he nods in return.

“You know where to take us, Anthony,” Dr. White says toward the front seat as the driver, Anthony apparently, gets in. She gets a grunt for an answer, but it seems to be enough for her as she settles into her seat, gathering a clipboard from the pocket on the back of the seat to examine the papers.

Brennan doesn’t really have anything to distract him aside from his phone, but he somehow feels that would be inappropriate right now, so he just settles on taking in his surroundings. The car is dark inside as well, in fact Brennan can barely see out the windows aside from the front and the driver’s windows.

He looks over Dr. White, as well as he can without being creepy. She’s wearing another suit, except this time it’s with a sharp pencil skirt, just as prim as she had looked yesterday, though today it’s with legs out, which Brennan can respect, especially since she has some killer legs from what he can see. Her black hair is pinned up in a flawless bun and he finds himself wondering how she manages that as he runs a hand through his own mess of shoulder length hair. Dr. White, even as she’s reading and rubbing absently at her chin, gives off a solid air of poise.

It makes Brennan feel like one hell of a slouch, in a grease-stained t-shirt and jeans that are equally, if not more, grease-stained. Honestly, he’s a mess, but he’s basically a mess twenty-four-seven.

He finally takes his eyes off of her, and looks to the driver, Anthony. The man’s pretty built, though his face doesn’t give it away. He’s got a scruffy red beard that hides what could be a sharp jaw, or a soft jaw, Brennan can’t tell from here. Anthony is a bit tall, the top of his head almost brushing the roof of the car, his hair is gelled down, otherwise Brennan is sure it would make up the difference. His face is partially obscured by dark shades, so Brennan can’t pin down an eye color on the guy, but the red hair, and the freckles that Brennan can see peeking out from the man’s collar leads him to assume green. Perhaps brown? Who knows.

Brennan doesn’t get too much longer to think on it, because Anthony catches him staring in the mirror, and clears his throat to get his attention. Brennan jerks a bit, and his eyes dart to the dark window. His eyebrows drop and he glares at his reflection for a moment before rolling his eyes and turning to Dr. White again. “How far is this place, anyways? I thought I was on site here?”

“You are. It’s a big campus, Mr. Saddler.” Dr. White replies without looking up from her papers, at least not at first. She finally looks up at him, “Area 51 spans over twenty-thousand acres of land, over thirty square miles. You can be on-site, and still be a five minute drive, Mr. Saddler.” She gets this smirk on her face that makes Brennan smirk in return, and she hugs the clipboard to her chest. “We’ll be there in just a few moments. In all reality, you could have walked here, but that wouldn’t be very hospitable of us, would it?” She smiles at him, and the car comes to a stop. She waits as Anthony gets out, comes around and opens her door for her.

She steps out, her kitten heels clicking on the pavement of the parking lot as she steps away from the car, and turns back to Brennan, waiting for him.

He takes a moment to swallow, and he finally follows her out of the car. Once she seems to be sure he’s following, she turns, and heads toward the building at the end of the lot. She scans a badge at the door and holds it open for him, she leads him to a desk where they both sign in, and she makes small talk with the woman behind it as Brennan scribbles down his information. He sets down the pen, smiles at the woman behind the desk, her nametag says Rebecca, and he turns to follow Dr. White.

Dr. White scans her badge at another set of doors, and Brennan follows her through the halls. It looks like a standard lab, full of beakers and test tubes with unrecognizable substances in them. She leads him down a hall, and then another, and then another and another until they finally reach an elevator. She scans her badge again, they step inside, and they go down. Down so far that Brennan starts to wonder if this isn’t all an elaborate ruse to throw him into a volcano or something because he’s asked for too much from them.

The doors open, and there’s no volcano, however there is another hallway, which makes Brennan heave a sigh. Dr. White leads the way, and thankfully enough they go into the third door on the left, because Brennan was sure that if she had taken him down another hallway he may have actually screamed.

Thankfully, they’ve reached their destination, and Dr. White explains to him that the only thing standing between him, and his attempt to get answers, is the door on the other side of the room.

He thanks her, and he starts to head for the door, but he pauses before he even lifts his hand to touch the handle, because he realizes, this is it. He’s about to see an alien.

On the other side of this door is a creature from a world that’s so far away Brennan can barely process it, and he’s about to walk in there, and try to use pictures on his phone to try and figure out how the thing’s ship works. He’s about to try to talk to an actual alien.

He is so not prepared for this. Oh god what if he fucks it up? What if it doesn’t like him? What if it spits acid on him or something? Oh god, worse, what if it likes him, a lot, and busts through the glass just to plant it’s alien eggs in his stomach?

“Mr. Saddler?” Brennan flinches a bit, turning to look at Dr. White, eyebrows raised in question, “Are you alright? You seem nervous. You know you aren’t in there alone, right? I will be there, as well as the lead researcher, and you aren’t in any danger. It is perfectly safe.” She steps up to his side, and rests a hand on his shoulder, “Come on, you don’t wanna waste what might be your only opportunity to see a real life alien, right?” She winks at him, and she pats his arm, opening the door for him, and guiding him into the room where he finally sees it. He finally sees his first alien.

And wow. It’s… Pretty.

#writeblr #writing #writing blog #wip #writing wip #ar2 #arctic recovery 2 #chapter posting

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hangonimevolving · 4 years

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My first real Cricut post

I've been looking forward to writing here about my brand new gizmo. I have fallen in LURVE. A few weeks ago, I wrote about the acquisition of my new Cricut Maker. What is a Cricut? A Cricut is basically a fancy die-cutting machine. What the heck is die-cutting? It's basically cutting out various shapes of different artsy craftsy materials, and assembling them into some sort of artsy craftsy thing.* (I have just completely made up that definition from my own brain, and have no idea if it is actually legit. This is my simple and unresearched understanding of it. And by the way, I am certainly not sponsored or compensated by the company that makes this machine (LOLOL I wish), nor do I mean to imply here that a Cricut is the only machine of this type out there (it's not, there are other brands too). But this is the one I got, so I'mma talk about it.

First of all, LOOK at it. It's beaaaauuutiful.

(too bad I look haggard in the mirror’s reflection. But who cares. The important thing is the MACHINE, man...)

So here is just a smattering of what I’ve done so far with this fabulous contraption!

I think I may have shared an early project already - this little collar bandana that I made for Pixel

I also made these cool 3D elephant puzzles for the kids, using a free template available on the Cricut app:

But then came time for me to test out my own design wings. I had a really steep learning curve, as I learned to design greeting cards and other projects using various colors, finishes, and weights of cardstock.

As my initial forays coincided with the Islamic festival of Eid, I designed a few cards for some (cat-loving) friends who observe the holiday, including one of my two college BFF’s, Y-Clef, who has a real feline-centric sense of humor:

The cards above are constructed of various precision cuts of cardstock, glued or layered with other cardstock. But in my next batch of cards, I experimented with cutting out vinyl embellishments, and adhering them to cardstock.

I then designed a card for my other college BFF, G-Funk, who happens to be the main reason I even bought the Cricut in the first place. She was the one who turned me on to a big sale online, and she purchased a Cricut at the same time - we’ve both been nerding out together as we’re learning new things, so I figured I had to pay homage to this journey in my card to her!

Then came time to begin designing a ton of cards for Father’s Day! Here is the card I’ve designed for Dr. Spouse, the official Apple/Mac Maniac. SHHH, its a big secret - he hasn’t seen it yet. It took me over 10 hours!!!!

I made this project for my dad for Father’s Day - alas, I committed some sort of boo-boo with this one, as I’d intended to leave a 1/2″ strip along the sides, so that I could make them like two-sided pages of a little booklet. But somehow, I didn’t cue the machine up properly to do that, and it trimmed each piece at exactly 5x7. So I had to adjust my plan - ended up punching a small hole in the top left corner, and binding them together with a piece of glittery card twine that I bought once at Target. I think it ended up coming out good despite my slight modification. These are, again, vinyl on cardstock, with the exception of the laddu card, which I made using the “cut/print” feature of Cricut and using both my household laser printer as well as the Cricut machine to cut the image.

I started getting somewhat decent at the vinyl thing at this point, so I fired off a couple of vinyl decals - one for my closet mirror, and a few for the kids’ closet doors....

The NASA one was for Dey’s closet door.

I got REEEAAAALLY ambitious really fast with vinyl. Probably too ambitious, and too fast. One of Vev’s old die-cast airplanes was divested of its original livery many moons ago - it used to be an American Airlines plane, but at some point when he was about 4, he decided to peel all the stickers off and color it completely with magenta markers to resemble a “Wizz Air” jet. If you’re unfamiliar, Wizz Air is a ultra-discount airline based out of the U.K., and no, we have never flown it before, or even seen a Wizz Air jet in person. He only knows of it through YouTube, and I think only fixated upon it because a) it is an airplane, and b) their colors are pink and purple, his longtime favorites. But anyway - at some point recently, he decided he really wished it were a KLM jet. So - cue me, scrubbing all the crayon off of this thing, and creating it a new KLM livery out of vinyl. This was A VERY DIFFICULT task and I definitely think I’m nuts to have attempted this so early on in my vinyl decal-ing career. But it was also fun!

I had some technical difficulties with those teeny tiny letters. some of them are supposed to have vinyl “contours,” or letter portions, but I couldn’t manage to pull them out properly and thus the letters got hollowed out. E.g., the capital letter D ought to have that inside portion of the D filled in, but here it is sort of hollow. Oh well, I did my best. Those letters are literally like millimeters tall, so I can’t even be too upset about it, b/c its just super hard.

In the weeks to follow, I made a series of greeting cards for teachers, an aunt recuperating from surgery, and I started to really enjoy the card-making process more once I got my hands on some new and interesting materials, like different colored cardstock, some new colors and widths of pens to load into my Cricut, and these little marvels called Glue Dots - tiny adhesive beads that you can use to glue little things onto card, and not have it warp or buckle slightly.

I feel like I still need to get a handle on the types of pens I should use for different fonts, and also the appropriate pen nib size to use for different sized fonts - sometimes the writing turns out way thicker and blurrier than I want it to. Will continue to work on this.

Anyway! Coming up next: I am hoping to dive deeper into the processes of using my Cricut for sewing projects, notably a quilted mural I’ve had in the works for over a year now, but that keeps getting shelved and pushed to the side when I have other projects going on. Additionally, I want to learn to use my Cricut to make some faux leather crafts, like earrings, cuff bracelets, and maybe even a simple wallet. I just bought a sampler pack of faux leathers from Amazon in cool, fashion-y colors like rose gold, pearlescent white, beige, etc. I’ve also had a special request from Ajima to cut her some craft foam forms that she can use as stamps - she has been pursuing her own little crafts projects during quarantine, including making stamped design tea towels for friends and family. So I plan to do this for her and make her a special care package.

I’m a Cricutting fiend!

#Cricut #cricut maker #crafts #cardmaking #hobbies

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fandomoblivion · 6 years

Text

And There She Was (Part 1)

Fandom: Stranger Things

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Request: can u do a cute steve harrington x henderson ! reader? idrc what it is im just in the mood for something steve lol

Summary: (Y/N) Henderson has lived all her life pining after Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington: the athlete. Steve Harrington: the King of Hawkins. Steve Harrington: the player. Steve Harrington: the boyfriend of her best friend. But the thing is, when they’re forced to be together while fighting other-worldly creatures… stuff goes down. But hey, you know what they say. Shit happens.

Warnings: Swearing, violence

Word Count: 1,951

Notes: Hmu to be added to the new tag list!

prologue

“Son of a bitch… son of a bitch!” Dustin yelled as he ran into the living room, flipping up cushions on the other side of the couch that you were sitting on.

“Dustin, what the hell are you doing?” You groaned, pushing your glasses up on your nose with the base of your palm. You and your mom were watching the news, as another police chase had happened, following the same group of people. Yes, it was in another state, but it was still interesting to you.

“Another stupid penny…” Dustin grumbled as he threw the penny across the living room.

“Dusty, watch it! You almost hit Mews.” Mom said as your cat meowed in her arms.

“Can I please check under your cushions?” Dustin asked the two of you.

You looked at your position on the couch. You had been comfy sitting here for about a half hour and you did not want to move. Your legs were pulled up under you and you were leaning on an armrest.

“Uh, no, Dude. I’m sitting here.”

“(Y/N).” Your mom said.

“Mom!” You replied.

“Mom, please? It’s an emergency!”

“What qualifies as an emergency to you? Did your Lucas’s little sister glue his ass to his chair again?”

“C’mon, (Y/N)!”

You groaned and stood up as your mom did the same, and Dustin checked under the cushions and found what you assumed he had been looking for: two quarters. “Dude, if you just wanted quarters, you could have asked me. I’ve made a buttload of money teaching those little kids how to dance.”

“What? Really?!” Dustin smiled widely, showing off his new(ish) front teeth.

“I mean, pay me back eventually, but yeah.” You said, walking into your room. You heard him trailing behind you, which made you smile slightly. You took out your piggy bank--you and Nancy have had matching ones since you saved up to buy them in fourth grade (which was hard with no piggy bank to put your savings in)--and you poured the coins onto your bed. “Take the quarters. Just pay me back when you can.”

Dustin scrambled to grab as many quarters as he could. “Thanks, (Y/N), you’re the best! Love you!” He said hurriedly, then he rushed into his room. You heard him turn on his walkie-talkie and start talking to Lucas about the money. From this, you knew he was going straight to the arcade.

“(Y/N),” your mom said as you sat back down on the couch.

“Yeah?” You asked, chewing on your fingernail as you watched the television.

“Would you please drive Dusty to the arcade?”

You scowled, your eyes still trained on the tv. “Why? He has a bike.”

“Well yes, but I don’t want him biking home too late.”

You rolled your eyes and got up from the couch. “Fine. May as well stay out there instead of coming back then going out again. Hey, Little Dude,” you said, stopping Dustin who was running down the hall. “I’m driving you. Wait a minute while I get dress.”

Dustin groaned loudly and dramatically and fell back onto the couch as he waited for you. You changed into a pair of jeans and a yellow sweater. You pulled on your blue suede Adidas (popularized into women’s fashion by Billie Jean King in 1976), tucked your necklace from Steve under your sweater, and tied your hair up in a scrunchie.

“(Y/N)!! It’s been more than a minute! Come on!” Dustin yelled from outside your door. You laughed, grabbed your keys, and left your room. Dustin held up your cross-body bag for you, you took it, and he said, “Wow, you’re welcome.”

You laughed. “And you’re welcome for driving you to and from the arcade today.”

Dustin grinned widely as the two of you got into the car. “(Y/N), do you love me?” He asked sweetly.

You rolled your eyes. “What else do you want?”

“Can you drive Mike and maybe Will home today?”

You laughed. “You know I usually take home Mike. And yeah, sure, I’ll bring Will home, too.”

Dustin cheered and punched the air. “Thanks, (Y/N)!”

You huffed and pulled into the arcade parking lot. “No prob, Little Dude. Now, uh, remember:”

Dustin rolled his eyes as he spoke the next few words with you in unison. “Don’t talk to anyone creepy, especially that dude Keith. Don’t die or let any of your friends die. I love you, Little Dude.”

You laughed, knowing he had heard your spiel one too many times. “Ciao, Kid.” You watched as Dustin excitedly joined his friends in the arcade, and you started your car back up and drove to the movie theater, which was a few blocks away. Seeing the new movie, Terminator, was playing, you bought yourself a ticket and wasted time--okay, not wasted, Terminator was a fucking good movie--while waiting to pick up Dustin.

The next morning, you got ready for school. Dustin was talking the entire ride to the Byers’ house, and to the Wheelers’ house, and home, about somebody named MadMax who had beaten his score on… PacMan? No… Thayer’s Quest? No, it was Dig Dug. Yeah, Dig Dug. Anyway, you didn’t really care about the conversation, since you knew Dustin would find a way to somehow, someday, beat that MadMax. Even if it meant helping him yourself.

You pulled up to school, sitting in your car for a few minutes, making sure you had everything with you. You picked a piece of lint off your stripey sweater, one that Nancy had given you when she outgrew it (somehow, you managed to fit into it years after she gave it to you). You looked over at the car next to you and saw a dude smoking in his car. You scowled, hating smoking because it reminded you of your father. You got out of your car and immediately his eyes trained themselves on… your fucking chest. Really, dude?

“Hey, you know smoking isn’t allowed on campus, right?” You said to him once he took notice of you.

The dude smirked and let out a puff of smoke before flicking his cigarette onto the ground. “Sorry, Sweet Pea. I’m new in town. Don’t really know the ropes for your dumbass school yet. Maybe you can teach me?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

You scoffed. “You’re pretty cocky. I’m sure they’ll find someone to show you around. But…” You paused and sighed. “If they don’t, come find me at lunch. I usually sit near the window.”

He chucked. “Thanks, Sweet Pea.”

You scrunched up your nose as you walked away. “Don’t call me Sweet Pea,” you said under your breath.

You quietly cursed under your breath as the guy from the morning walked up to you while you were at your locker getting your lunch.

“So listen, Sweet Pea-”

“Please don’t call me that.” You said with a sarcastic smile, but he just kept talking.

“After school today you’re gonna tell me all the shit that I should know about your school. How’s 7:30?”

“I can’t, I go straight from school to dance. I don’t get off until 6:30 each night.”

He chucked and leaned in. “I don’t think you heard me. 7:30. I’ll pick you up.”

“Like a date?” You asked unenthusiastically. He just smirked. You hung your head down and took a breath, before looking back up at him with a fake ass smile. “7:30. Here’s my address.” You said, before writing your address on the back of his hand. “Don’t be late.” You said, then turning around, your whipping around your face, and heading to the cafeteria.

You knew it was stupid to say yes. You knew it was a bad idea. And yet…

It would get your mind off Steve.

At least for a bit.

After lunch, you, Nancy, and Jonathan exited the cafeteria, only to be greeted with none other than Tina Cline handing out flyers for her Halloween party. She handed Nancy and you one, and you immediately crumpled it up and threw it at your feet, kicking it along the linoleum floor as Nancy asked Tina for two more.

“You two are going to this!” Nancy said, before pushing the two flyers into your and Jonathan’s chests. You started to crumple yours up again, but Nancy shot you her famous “don’t-fucking-do-it-or-I’ll-crazy-murder-you” look. You smiled sheepishly and flattened it out against the book you were holding.

“‘Come and get sheet-faced.’ No, I’m not going.” Jonathan said, laughing.

“No, I can’t let the two of you sit home alone all Halloween. That’s just not acceptable!”

“Well, you can relax. We won’t be alone,” you said, pushing your glasses up your nose. “We’re going with the kids while they trick-or-treat.”

“All night?” Nancy asked.

Jonathan nodded. “Yeah…?”

“No, no way. You two are gonna be home by 8:00, Jonathan, you’re going to be listening to the Talking Heads and reading Vonnegut or something. (Y/N), you’re going to be watching some cheesy horror movie, eating ice cream out of its container and clutching your cat all night.”

Jonathan shrugged. “Sounds like a night night.” You laughed and agreed.

“Guys! Just come! I mean, who knows? You might even, like, meet someone.” Nancy said, opening her locker. Just then, Steve rounded the corner and picked up Nancy, making her shriek/squeal/make some weird, high-pitched noise that made you and Jonathan look at each other uncomfortably.

Steve set Nancy down, laughing, and Nancy hit his arm. “Oh, my God! Take those stupid things off.” She said, referencing his sunglasses.

He kept laughing and hugged her close to him, saying, “I missed you.”

“It’s been, like, an hour!” Nancy laughed.

“Tell me about it.” Steve said before pulling Nancy in for a kiss.

When they kept kissing, you turned to Jonathan and said, “So… how about the weather? Interesting, isnt’t it?” Which made Jonathan laugh and the two who were kissing separate. “C’mon.” You mumbled to Jonathan. The two of you walked down the hall together, leaving Nancy and Steve alone.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” You said to him. You were the only one who knew about his huge crush on Nancy.

He sighed. “It’s fine. I… it just sucks, you know?” You nodded. “You’re lucky you don’t have to deal with that.”

You noticed the two of you were about to walk by Mrs. Armstrong’s history class, and you knew she had the next period free and wouldn’t be in her classroom. You tapped Jonathan on his shoulder and pulled him into the classroom.

“Okay, I might be absolutely insane for telling you this, but I’m gonna tell you anyway.”

Jonathan furrowed his eyebrows in concern. “You okay?” He asked.

You took a deep breath. “Not exactly. See, I’ve kinda had a teensy-weensy crush on Steve for a little while now. Okay, not so teensy-weensy. More like hugesy-wugesy. And it hasn’t been for a little while. I’ve liked him since middle school. It’s just like… every time I see him, I feel lightheaded and I get butterflies in my stomach and I can’t form words properly and when I do I sound like an asshole and… and… and I’m in love with my best friend’s boyfriend.” You felt your face grow hot as you put your feelings for Steve into words

As you were saying this, Jonathan’s eyes widened. “Really? Oh… shit. Well, I, uh… I guess we’re in the same boat, then, huh? Except I have a crush on my best friend, and you have a crush on your best friend’s boyfriend… but, essentially, we’re in this together, huh?” He said with a sad smile.

You nodded. “Yeah. We’re in this together.”

Tag List

@lovingcupcake51002 @alonewolfsblog @duffer-daddies @chayavered0116

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amagirinne · 5 years

Text

holy night.

hiya @airu27 i’m the person who got you for the @dcmkkaishinexchange!!

[shakes] i worked really hard on this fic and i hope you like it...!! i’m so sorry for the delay my relatives pulled me to a last minute camping trip right before the 12th OAWJEGWOGJAWOGJ hopefully the length is enough to make up for it..! 🙏

here’s the a version of it on ao3!

it also has a longer author’s note so heads up GOJEWAOGJEWOGW without further ado, once again, i hope you enjoy the fic!

ao3 link

―――

“OWW― Shinichi, you don't have to pull so hard!” KID whined as Shinichi pulled on his face for any traces of adhesive. Shinichi only pulled harder, making KID hiss with pain.

Shinichi had spotted KID loitering around the police station. If his sixth sense that was specifically designed for KID had not been enough, seeing a clone of himself out and wandering about was all the confirmation he needed. His double had tried to flee from him the moment he was caught in the act. However, Shinichi hunted him down like a hawk.

KID had hid behind a tree near the entrance. For a moment, he had thought he was safe and that Shinichi missed him. KID peered from behind the trunk of the tree to check if the detective was still around... only for said detective to clobber him with a snowball the minute he did. A huge one, in fact. It was like the time he threw a large snowball at Genta. Except this time there wasn't even a shred of mercy: Shinichi had planned on knocking KID out.

He was successful.

Shinichi dragged the unconscious KID inside. Not wanting him to freeze to death, he draped his blazer over KID and patiently waited for him to wake up.

“Maybe it'll teach you to stop using my face.” Shinichi pinched the thief's cheek harshly, causing KID to whine even more and somehow even louder than before. “How many times are people going to fall for it? I’m just glad Ran knows how to tell if it’s me or not now,” Shinichi muttered under his breath.

“Sorry, sorry, Detective-kun! Our faces are pretty similar and you’re very trusted to most people, so it’s only natural for me to use your face. Forgive me?” KID pleaded, clasping his hands together and staring at Shinichi with puppy dog eyes.

For a brief moment, Shinichi simply smiled.. all was well again, his apology accepted--

―Shinichi grabbed his cheeks and stretched them wide.

“SHINICHI-” KID shrieked. Shinichi managed to sneak in the chance to tousle KID's hair until it didn't look like his own before he was pried away from the thief. It was way too weird to talk to a spitting mirror image of himself. KID bore similar features to him, but he'd rather have KID look somewhat like himself.

“Why'd you keep me inside anyway, if you're gonna be like this.” A quiet ‘no fun, no fun’ followed up as KID pouted and ran his hand through his hair. Shinichi ignored him.

“Did you want to die of hypothermia?” Shinichi raised an eyebrow. “Besides, I did knock you out for quite a while. You may be a thief, but I have morals. I'm not just going to leave you out there where you'd be vulnerable.”

“Aww, so you do care about me.”

“Save it.” The thought of KID getting arrested so easily was anticlimactic. Plus, he felt like he'd have an unfair advantage over KID, and that would be insulting to the memory of their past cooperation.

… And, perhaps, just maybe, he might be a little biased towards KID as well.

He lowered his head as a thought crossed his mind. “Anyway, what was your goal here tonight?”

Normally KID was quick to reply, or give out such long-winded speech that Shinichi would often wonder, ‘Why haven't the security officers move yet, he's been talking so much that he’s exposed.’

Oddly enough, KID was taking a long time to respond now.

Shinichi snapped his head up and he spotted KID sneaking off with a pair of keys in hand.

“And where do you think you're going?”

KID temporarily froze in his tracks, then, the rustling of the keys grew noisier and more frantic along with his movements. Shinichi sprinted towards him with a frightening amount of speed and snatched the keys away.

“... stupid weather… making my hands more shaky…” KID mumbled. Then he tackled Shinichi and they began wrestling in an attempt to retrieve the keys. As they collided with some of the chairs and tables, a loud crash resounded throughout the room.

One moment KID had the keys.

Then Shinichi did.

Then KID.

Then Shinichi.

KID.

Shinichi.

Shinichi could easily keep fighting against the thief. However, the problem lied with KID's persistence, which could rival Shinichi's own hardheaded nature. KID was always unpredictable, and Shinichi didn’t know how long he’d keep up with this repetitive charade. Shinichi had to break the status quo before KID turned the tide in his favor.

He made a silent apology to whoever KID stole the keys from and proceeded to do something impulsive.

He threw the keys outside as he pushed KID away with his other hand, but not before he locked it and slammed the window shut.

KID’s jaw dropped. He raised a shaky hand to the window, words struggling to escape as anything but strangled noises.

“Anyway, get out of here before Inspector Megure comes around. I'm shocked he hasn't come over here with all the noise you made.” He released his grip on KID and looked around, expecting Megure to conveniently show up on cue.

“Right. Well, see, about Inspector Megure…” KID inhaled sharply. He sounded awfully nervous, and KID was rarely ever nervous. At least, in the public eye. If he was letting that show now, it couldn’t mean anything good. Shinichi felt something churn in his stomach as he eyed him.

It couldn't be―

“Where are you going with this, KID,” KID nervously grabbed at his collar and pushed out a forced chuckle. He looked off to the side, attempting to avoid Shinichi's intense stare, which didn’t help Shinichi’s worries at all.

“So Inspector Megure gave me the keys. I told him ― as you ― that I was gonna lock down the station today so he could go home early… so he gave me his pair of keys and left!”

Panic seized Shinichi's chest as he struggled to stay still.

“Oh god, oh no. Oh my god, Inspector Megure was supposed to lock the place when I was done.”

“You’re pretty well trusted around here like I said earlier, Detective-kun.”

“KID, those were the only keys.”

“Yes, they were.”

“And I threw them out the window. And shut the window. And locked said window.”

“You sure did.”

“KID.”

“Detective-kun!”

Shinichi dragged his hands down his face, trying to process the situation at hand. “Oh god, Sonoko’s not going to let me hear the end of it for not showing up to her party. But now it's gonna be twofold when she hears I spent the night with KID.” He already had a vague idea for an excuse, since he already knew he wouldn't make it due to the early heist note.

He figured he might be able to scrap some time to perfect it while they were cleaning up, and it'd soften the blow of Sonoko's rant, but now that plan had been thrown out the window.

“Can't you lockpick the door!? You've picked locks for complicated traps before! This is nothing in comparison.”

“I can't! I came in wearing your clothes, not my KID uniform. So I don't have my tools on hand. I didn't want to risk getting caught with that, that is, in case someone was around to give me a thorough search. I couldn't help but be prepared! But I certainly didn't expect… this to happen, of all things.” To prove his point, Kaito opened his blazer and revealed the plain, collared shirt that laid beneath it along with his tie.

Shinichi pinched the bridge of his nose. “Unless ― by some miracle ― someone comes by here, we’re stuck here until morning.”

“Specifically on Christmas night, don’t forget that Detective-kun!”

“Right… how could I.” Shinichi rolled his eyes. “Well, I didn't have any plans anyway, except for a party Sonoko planned on hosting that I wasn’t even going to attend.”

“I’d be so sure you'd spend Christmas with your friends rather than cooped up in this dark police station. But you continue to prove me wrong.”

“I got a heist note from you, and I wouldn't be able to sit still at the party knowing it had yet to be solved. Plus, I didn’t want Inspector Megure to be alone when locking up. Not that I doubt he could protect himself, but it’s lonely at night. Thought I’d give him a little company.”

Heist notes were a common weekly thing, but he had never gotten one personally. Typically they were sent to Division Two's inbox, and it wasn't everyday you went through your mail to find a KID card.

Shinichi immediately rushed to the police station and brought it up with his coworkers. He had stuck onto the note like glue, constantly working away until he fully solved it. Somewhere in between, he figured he might as well hit two birds with one stone and help out Megure with locking down the place for the night. He didn’t want to quit when the answers were so close.

“Why, Great Detective,” KID looked absolutely smug, “You were spending Christmas working on my note? That's sweet, I guess I'm just as important as your friends.”

“Stupid.” Shinichi was painstakingly aware of his growing affection towards the thief. But pride damned him from ever saying it, especially to a arrogant guy like KID. He refused to give him the satisfaction, at least right now. But when he was in private quarters, he allowed himself to imagine what'd it be like for KID to hold him close. What'd it be like to unmask him and get to know someone who's got similar intellect as him. What it'd be like to―…

He coughed, shaking his head before any of his daydreams had room to grow. “Of course I’m going to attempt and solve it, it's my job. I can’t let someone like you run rampant.”

In hindsight, he did spend his Christmas with someone he was falling for, just not in the way he had dreamed or one that could be realistically expected. “Better than spending my time hunched over his note and a mug of coffee... abhorrent to talk about in detail to Ran.”

The last thing he wanted was for Ran and Sonoko to decide he needed to find someone else and set him up for blind dates. It had happened before, and Shinichi would never make the two forget about the details of his date's previous love life, to the ex he clearly hasn't gotten over, to the blind dates the guy had gotten a little too attached to.

He shuddered at the memory.

“And here I thought we had something special.” KID sighed. “Oh well, I'll be your boyfriend for Christmas then!”

“Do you have any idea what you do to me? You drive me up the wall, both in a good way and a bad way.” Shinichi rolled his eyes, but brought his scarf up higher to cover his face. “I'd like the receipt so I can take this gift back, please,” he bit out to hide that he was heavily flustered.

Though KID didn't appear to be looking, much to Shinichi’s relief.

“Don't be rude! My mom calls me a national treasure, and mothers know best!”

“I'm sure the infamous Phantom Lady knows best.”

“She does! She's stolen the best gems after all.” Kaito began to peer through the desks, fingering the files and squinting to read the contents under the moonlight.

“You are not going through everyone’s things right in front of me!” He grabbed KID's wrist tightly before he could pick up another object on (what he assumed to be) Takagi’s desk.

“Oh let me have some sort of fun!” To Shinichi’s horror, KID’s hand detached with ease and another hand popped out. KID wriggled his new hand. Shinichi took a quick glance at the hand he was holding, finally noticing the odd texture. “Fine then,” KID said, “I won’t look through this one… but I’m gonna take a peek in there!”

KID opened the drawer to a nearby desk. A blue ribbon was sticking out. At once, Shinichi realized whose desk it was.

“Wait, KID don't look there―!” A sense of desperation had slipped into his tone, causing KID to halt in his tracks. The phantom thief immediately backed away, hands lifted in the air and wide-eyed. However, it was already too late. KID continued to side-eye the gift.

Unbeknownst to KID, the gift was his. It was originally bought as a Christmas gift, however, Shinichi didn’t want to make his intentions clear just yet and was going to pass it off as a New Years gift.

Rather than being a typical gift like roses or teddy bears, Shinichi had settled on something more sentimental: a milk puzzle with a message inscribed in it. Shinichi knew the thief would appreciate a challenge, so his true message was hidden in a code… which was hidden in the puzzle. Perhaps he went a little too overboard, but this was for the person who left an encryption inside another encryption on a clock tower.

He didn't think he was going to see KID so soon though. The contents of his heist note had revealed (well, through hints) KID's appearance would take place on December 31st. Heists often took a long time and occured in the evenings, and if it went on long enough, infringed on the next day.

Shinichi had elaborated a thorough plan to confess to KID, along a set timeframe. Though perhaps this was the danger in being too detailed, as one small unexpected error had compromised the whole affair.

“That’s my desk.” He said, trying to reason with KID. But KID didn’t appear to think that was a good enough reason and continued to shuffle through it.

“Oho, and who's this for…?” KID said, picking up the box lightly and carefully. It was sealed with white gift wrap and tied with a blue, satin ribbon. “Is it for the young lady you're always with?”

Oh, that's right. He supposed KID didn't get the memo. After all, you don't just start talking about your personal life with the criminal you're chasing.

“No, Ran and I aren't dating anymore.” He scratched the back of his head, “That's for someone else.”

“Really now…? Then who…” KID tilted the box in different angles, possibly looking for a name tag that addressed the giftee.

He might as well tell him. He couldn't use the excuse he had prepared for the heist anyway, now that KID saw it. “It's for you, actually.”

“It's for me!?” KID's eyes lit up, he pressed the small box tightly to his chest. “I didn't think you even considered me a friend... I'm truly touched, Dete― Shinichi.” He traced his thumb over the box, treating his gift with utmost care.

“I… It’s no problem, KID.” He coughed into his fist, “Anyway, you can find some way to entertain yourself. That doesn't involve rummaging through everyone's things. I'm gonna continue my work while I'm here.”

Shinichi settled on the floor, case files scattered about in front of him. When it came to actually looking at files then observing the crime scene in person, Shinichi preferred to lay everything out in front of him. It somehow imitated the actual crime scene in Shinichi's eyes, helping his focus. To read each page and constantly flip back for reference was just annoying.

He felt something warm against his back and craned his head to find KID peering over his shoulder, leaning against him. Shinichi nearly dropped his folders as KID's face drew much closer due to his sudden movement.

“Wow, that's brutal.” KID eyes were on the photo evidence. He remained blissfully unaware of Shinichi's panicked state.

“W...― What are you doing?” He tries his best to keep his breathing steady, as if it’d lower the pace of his heartbeat. KID was so close to him that Shinichi was afraid that KID could hear everything Shinichi ever thought about him if he remained there for too long.

“I’m cold.” KID spoke up after a couple of minutes. “Shinichi! Do something about that!” He sounded like a bored, dissatisfied child-- not an inaccurate description of him.

“Well, I can't exactly control the weather, can I?” KID pouted at him, but Shinichi continued to stare a hole through his case files. Anything to divert his attention away from Kaito. “Besides, the heater is broken, tough day to get locked in overnight.”

The heater broke during an argument between him and Hakuba, actually. Hakuba rarely ever showed up, and this was the one time they had argued. They shared similar interests, but a discussion of the best Sherlock Holmes book hand resulted in Shinichi getting a bit too intense. (It was only a matter of time before Hakuba and him disagreed on something.)

Hakuba thought “A Study In Scarlet” to be Doyle’s best work for the series, while Shinichi believed “A Sign of Four” to be the best one, arguing that not only did it have a classic mystery, but it further developed Watson and Sherlock's characterization.

To prove his point, Shinichi attempted to set up one of the elaborate traps in the Sign of Four so he could show how tricky yet clever it was.

However, it ended up backfiring completely and greatly damaging the heater in the building. He had sworn he would pay for it.

“You’re the detective here! Figure something out! Shinichi―” KID hugged him from behind and shook him back and forth. This time Shinichi did drop his papers and let out an unappealing squawk in the process.

“You made me drop my files!” He managed to say. Was KID normally this touchy? He was pretty sure he wasn't, with the whole ‘I'm a Phantom Thief who's untouchable!!’ shtick. Outright hugging him clearly went against that philosophy, not to mention making Shinichi's mind go through dizzying loops. “Go find something to warm yourself then! I’m busy!”

“You're the closest thing to warmth here, Detective-kun!! What, do you expect me to hug an oven or something?” He pressed himself closer to Shinichi, to the point where Shinichi could feel his breath on his cheek.

“I… Uh…” Shinichi’s eyes darted across the room in rapid motion as he tried to think of anything but how close KID was. How he wanted to turn around and hug him back, pretend that he was suddenly cold as well. Truly, he wished he didn't have such romantic feelings. It was clouding his perspective.

Kaito’s words flashed in his mind, and “stove” offered him a way out of his current predicament.

“Coffee. There's coffee in the break room, we can drink that to stay warm.” He pried KID's hands off a little too fast for his liking, both because he didn't want to seem too suspicious and also because he may have wanted to indulge in it a little longer.

A look of disappointment flashed across KID's face. Shinichi tried not to overanalyze the situation, his heart fluttering at the thought of KID actually reciprocating his feelings. Feelings he tried to undermine so that he could prioritize their status as thief and detective.

“You can see how well that's working for me right now.”

“Ah… Coffee… yeah! Good idea Detective.” KID beamed at him and got up, taking care not to trample over Shinichi's papers, which Shinichi silently thanked him for.

“That’s probably why he seemed disappointed. He probably hates coffee, someone who makes as much mischief as him probably likes something sweeter. Like hot chocolate or whatever. Sonoko mentioned some KID forums theorized that.” There was no one he had to prove that too, and yet he continued to make excuses on how KID couldn't possibly have meant that that as a romantic gesture.

There was absolutely no way.

“Most men would rather deny a hard truth then face it.” A small voice in his head chided. It sounded eerily similar to his mom’s, and it was accompanied by a phantom pinch on his cheek.

Shinichi shook it off, though he rubbed his cheek for a little bit.

He was not in denial. Absolutely not. He was just being realistic about this. “What are even the chances of him liking me that way? I may be his most preferred choice for heists, but no one sane would fall for someone who could throw them behind bars.”

Shinichi walked to the break room, KID following suit.

Upon opening the door, the view wasn't anything spectacular. There was a counter with a sink, a microwave as well as a coffee maker on top of it. The coffee pot was clean but had traces of heavy use. A small round table that could seat four people was nearby, as well as a fridge.

He started up the coffee maker. “Sorry to disappoint, but we only have coffee. If you wanted hot chocolate, this isn’t the place.” He grabbed a styrofoam cup and placed it underneath the nozzle.

Shinichi had a slight preference for iced coffee himself. The chilled taste diluted the bitter taste by a margin. But beggars couldn't be choosers. He didn't want to walk twenty blocks just to satisfy his want, especially when he could be using that time to catch a murderer. (When he was hanging out with Ran and Sonoko, though, he’d always get his fix: they took their time in the changing rooms.)

“Huh? Oh, no I like coffee. I actually prefer it black. What made you think I wanted hot chocolate?” KID sounded puzzled for a moment, then let out an all knowing ‘Oh… OH!’ before Shinichi had the chance to explain. “Wait a minute, only the forums dedicated to me think that. You're even reading things about me?”

“Hell no! That's Sonoko!” Shinichi failed to notice how close the cup was to him and ended up knocking it over. “Shit,” He muttered, quickly grabbing a nearby napkin to wipe up the mess.

KID jumped out of his seat eagerly to help him clean. He gently held up Shinichi's hand afterwards and observed it closely. “Did some of that spill on your hand?” He looked over Shinichi's’ hand, eyebrows furrowing as he searched for traces of a burn.

“No, it didn’t spill over on me,” Shinichi assured. KID’s posture relaxed, but he kept clutching Shinichi’s hand.

“Okay, good. I wouldn’t want to scramble around for a first aid kit. Still burns are a nasty thing to endure.”

“I’m a little surprised you know about first aid. I thought you’d have your assistant do all the work.” Well, there went theory number eight that KID’s assistant possibly worked at a hospital.

“I can't exactly go to the hospital for any injuries I get as KID, you know.” He gave a sheepish smile, “Plus, Jii-san can only do so m―” KID suddenly let go of Shinichi and pressed a hand to his mouth., “Ahaha… forget what I just said!” He made a shush motion with his finger, but for a second, he genuinely looked distressed.

“Jii-san huh… so they know each other personally?” Shinichi could understand why he was being so panicky over that fact, if they were related. He could get a family member in trouble. Shinichi heard himself say, “Don’t worry, already forgotten. After all, I'm only interested in capturing you.”

He was about to berate himself for letting KID off the hook, but the smile that KID gave him and a mouthed ‘thank you’ made him reconsider.

Speechless, Shinichi looked away.

“Anyway though, how about I wipe up the spill while you remake the coffee…? I wasn’t kidding when I said I was freezing earlier.” KID shivered to emphasize the point.

“Ah, right. Sorry about that.”

The aftermath was quiet. Rather then it being awkward, stifling silence, it was comfortable, something Shinichi could find solace in. Shinichi only spoke to let KID know the coffee's ready, KID giving him a nod in acknowledgement and offering his thanks before settling back into peacefulness.

Shinichi brushed his shoulder against KID's when he sat back down.

“How many divisions are there? I mainly hear about two and one, but that implies there's more than those two.” Kaito asked, breaking the silence.

“There’s about five I believe…? One deals with homicide, two is assault and criminal affairs, three is theft, and four…” He remembered a detective around his age ― Saihara…? He nearly mistook his surname for Haibara's alias. In fact, his full name was like an odd combination of Haibara and Shuichi’s. ― had worked with division four. “Four has cases with infidelity. Five revolves around juvenile youth.”

Shinichi didn't think there was anyway he could manage detective work with Division Four. Murder cases? Easy. Catching thieves and dealing with theft? A bit more work, but he could do it. However, to deal with personal affairs like marriage and infidelity? He could probably give facts, but the matters of the heart were more difficult than any case he'd worked combined.

Murder case motives all ultimately sprung from the same sentiment. The culprit had been pushed to their limit due to something the victim had done.

Even knowing a human heart was so much more complex and fickle than that, Shinichi had a hard time understanding others people’s feelings. There was a reason he and Ran had skirted around the topic of dating, even though Ran had made it blaringly obvious she had liked him that way― even admitting it when he was Conan. Thanks to that confirmation, Shinichi had been able to be bold with her, but KID was a different matter altogether.

“What got you interested?” Shinichi asked.

“Oh uh, I actually don’t know a lot about the divisions. I thought Inspector Nakamori worked with theft, since he was the most adamant about me. So I left the note in his inbox because I didn’t know there was a whole division dedicated to it!”

Shinichi didn’t know why (the late hour, degrading his sense of humor, perhaps), but something in that statement set him off, and next thing he knew he was laughing at the simple mistake that KID made― and also dying inside because he inhaled boiling hot coffee in the process.

“Hey! I wanted you to smile because of me, but not like this!” KID protested, sulking in his seat.

“I’m sorry― I just―” Shinichi gasped, and each chuckle that escaped from his mouth only made KID sulk harder. Shinichi wiped a tear from his eyes and managed to collect himself, though a few more snickers spilled out. “I just, I’m used to the concept of you being this elusive phantom thief. I know that making mistakes is human nature, but you’ve always did a good job at covering it up. So hearing that you messed up something that every person getting into law enforcement knows, it’s a little funny.”

“Yeah yeah I can see you’re having the time of your life over there,” KID grumbled, taking a sip from his mug.

“But I do like this side of you, don’t get me wrong.” Shinichi said thoughtlessly. “I’d like to see that side of you more, it’s cute.”

KID spat out his drink.

Panic seizing in his chest, Shinichi quickly set down his drink before he spilled it on his pants again. “Forget I said that, sorry it’s late.” That wasn’t smooth at all, Kudou Shinichi, what are you doing. He desperately wanted to look away and save face, but seeing how KID reacted would let him know whether to give up on him or not. He steeled himself and kept his gaze on KID.

KID frowned, but the emotion on his face was the most unreadable it’s been yet.

“... whatever you say,” KID's voice was so quiet. Was he neutral because he didn't want to further embarrass him? Was he neutral because he was unsure what to retort?

“Be logical.” Shinichi thought, beginning to calm down. “I’m going to sleep, then. My tiredness is clearly catching up.” Shinichi downed the rest of the coffee before he gets up from his seat, pushing his chair away and throwing his cup in the trash.

He could feel KID’s eyes burning into his back.

“Shinichi, how are we going to sleep? I’m pretty sure the police station doesn’t have any beds, last time I checked. After all, they don’t want people to sleep on their cases!”

Just like that, they fell back into their usual dynamic.

“I was thinking of just sleeping on the floor here. I was going to use my blazer as a makeshift blanket.”

“On the floor…? But―”

“You’re welcome to sleep somewhere else.”

“No, no, I’ll sleep on the floor with you!”

“Suit yourself.”

Shinichi lowered himself to the floor and covered himself with his blazer. KID copied his actions, settling himself next to him. Minutes passed, then hours. Shinichi would have really liked to fall asleep.

Except he couldn’t.

He primarily blamed the coffee, accessorily the fact that KID was sleeping next to him.

He was sure KID had an easier time falling asleep, as he was silent when he'd normally be extremely chatty. Shinichi turned over and looked at KID.

KID's hair was the exact picture of a messy bedhead on a late day of school, but it looked soft to the touch and fun to mess around with. Shinichi rubbed his palm as he recalled messing up KID's hair earlier.

He also smelled of coffee and of a specific cologne Shinichi bought often. (It was an admirable feat for KID to pay such close attention to every particular detail a person had for the sake of accuracy, when normally someone wouldn't notice such a detail at all. He supposed that's what made KID's disguises more believable. On the other hand, Shinichi had better eyes, and he looked into the cracks that KID thought he could cover up.) His parents had favored coffee when they were at home, and the cologne had been a scent Shinichi was familiarized with. In a way, KID had the familiar fragrance of home. It made sleeping on the cold floor of a police department slightly easier.

Without thinking, Shinichi wrapped his arms around KID's waist, pulling the thief closer to his chest and nuzzling his head in the crook of KID's neck.

He froze, realizing how impulsive his actions were. He would’ve moved his arms away from KID, but he was already too close. “Please, please be a heavy sleeper.” Shinichi begged internally, his cheeks heating up and his heart beating wildly at the thought of getting caught like this.

KID soon crushed Shinichi’s last hope of getting away with such an impulse by shattering the silence. “Are you― Did you turn around? Are you hugging me...?”

“Sorry I'm― cold. Really cold. I have a tendency of hugging anything nearby at home when I sleep, and I moved without thinking. I'll move off.” He told him the truth, plain and simple, but omitted that this also happened to be a fantasy of his. What KID didn't know wouldn't hurt him… or Shinichi's pride.

Shinichi attempted to move away, but KID grabbed his arm and kept it in place.

“No it's fine. You can, um, do that. You're cold, I don't mind.” KID sounded a lot more tired and laid-back casual than usual. Shinichi no longer heard Kaitou KID, but the person who lied beneath it.

Even KID was human, and humans could grow weary after keeping up a grandiose act for so long, but seeing that side of KID made him feel a little closer. A bit more real, easier to reach.

And Shinichi just wanted to know more.

“Okay.” Is all he said, before adjusting his posture to get comfortable. He pressed his face against KID's neck and carefully wrapped his arms around him. Even if he was given the okay, he was still hesitant, too afraid that he'd cross the boundary of what would disturb KID.

Even with the panic thumping in his chest subsiding, the conditions for sleeping were far from ideal― but he felt surprisingly at ease, just lying beside KID.

“... Kaito..” He heard KID mutter. Shinichi was ready to lull into rest, his eyes drooping shut, but jerked awake at that.

“What did you say, KID?”

“Can you… Can you call me Kaito? Just― just this time.” Shinichi couldn’t see what exactly KID― Kaito was doing from this angle, but he thought he saw Kaito bring something up to cover his face.

“‘Kaito.’” He tried. He was used to saying it (After all, the full title is ‘Kaitou KID.’) but surprised. If this was Kaito's real name, his identity had been right there all along. “Kaito… okay, Kaito.”

He felt Kaito shudder under his touch as he repeated his name.

“Yeah like― like that.” Kaito shifted around, Shinichi moving his arms away to make it easier. Shinichi’s met with Kaito's stare head on, though he's only given a moment to observe the vulnerability on Kaito's expression before Kaito pulled him close. Unlike Shinichi’s, Kaito's embrace was a lot tighter, bolder. He paid no mind to how Shinichi would react, yet his face was clearly heating up.

Or maybe that was just Shinichi’s. He couldn’t tell.

“Sorry. I'm cold too.” Kaito's voice was a whisper, almost wavering.

Shinichi thought that this was the farthest it could ever go, and started preparing for a plan to face Kaito after tonight. But Kaito’s hand slipped behind his nape, and Shinichi realized that Kaito had something different in mind. ‘The show’s not over yet,’ his eyes seemed to say.

“Do you like me, Shinichi?” Kaito drawled his name, his breath hot against Shinichi’s skin. “Because I like you. Very much. I'm fond of you, and I want you to be aware that I wouldn't allow just about any detective to get this close to me.” He reached for Shinichi’s hair, twirling dark strands around his finger.

“I’m pretty sure that you return my affections by how you’ve been acting, and if not, I’m not just a phantom thief for nothing, I can easily steal your heart. But I'd like to know if I have to make the effort first… or if your heart is already in my hands.”

…

What?

Shinichi’s heart skipped a beat. The room had already been quiet, but any possible noise was drowned out, as if Shinichi had been pushed underwater. Kaito’s words looped in his mind, their meaning not registering at first . Realization left him speechlessly staring at Kaito, who only stared back with utmost confidence burning in his eyes.

Shinichi was thrilled beyond belief.

“And by the way, detective,” Kaito pulled him even closer, Kaito’s mouth centimeters away from Shinichi's. Shinichi’s heart thumped in his chest erratically. “Your lips look cold.”

Kaito kissed him, feather-light and fleeting. It's enough to leave an imprint on Shinichi.

It’s Kaito’s turn to look embarrassed as he shifted his gaze to the side to avoid meeting Shinichi's eyes. He covered his lips with his fist, a ‘I can't believe I just said that’ look gracing his face. “I'm―” Kaito beginned, but Shinichi, a surge of confidence overtaking him, didn’t let him finish.

“Hey Kaito,” Shinichi grabbed the collar of Kaito's shirt and pulled him closer, “Your lips look cold too.”

Shinichi crashed their lips together.

At first, Kaito hesitated, ever the gentleman, and moved away as Shinichi drew closer, as though to confirm Shinichi was fine with this. But it didn’t take long for Kaito to cave as he parted his lips and gave more room for Shinichi to work with. Kaito clutched at Shinichi's shirt and sighed. Shinichi slid a hand behind Kaito's head to lock him in place.

Despite the chilling cold, warmth was the only thing that filled Shinichi's senses. Warmth, security, and a sense of completeness. Shinichi was alive, more alive than ever before.

He was the first to pull away, panting heavily as he pressed his forehead against Kaito's. He looked down, bangs shielding his eyes, and he let out a shaky sigh before catching his breath, “I have wanted to do that for months now.” It was embarrassing to admit, but seeing as their heart to heart had escalated into this, Shinichi figured it’d be a good time to put it all out there in the open.

Kaito looked dazed. “I― That was― Wow…”

“Mr. Phantom Thief is tongue tied? That's shocking, considering you were the one who had a whole lot to say.” He smirked as Kaito let out a groan.

“Well I can’t help it, you can’t just kiss me like that and then tell me you’ve been holding that back for months! God, Shinichi, I wished you kissed me the minute you thought of doing so, because past Kaito would’ve been very, very happy to hear you returned his feelings. Just checking, but… Can I take that as a yes to my confession then…?”

“Yeah… do you think I’d kiss just anyone?”

“Hey! I did say it was obvious! But I needed to make sure,” Kaito pulled Shinichi back into a hug, “Kudou Shinichi, my boyfriend… My boyfriend, Kudou Shinichi… who I’m dating...”

“You're so embarrassing.” Shinichi buried his head in Kaito's chest.

“Oi, we only just started going out and you’re being cold to me!? This isn't even me being affectionate! You’ve seen nothing yet!”

Shinichi said nothing in response.Kaito huffed.

A wave of drowsiness began to gradually take over Shinichi, and a loud yawn escaped his mouth, “I think I'm going to actually sleep, now.”

“Goodnight Shinichi, rest well.” Kaito pressed a kiss to Shinichi's forehead. “By the way Shinichi, I hope this makes up for breaking in the building.”

“Goodnight, Kaito.” Shinichi broke away from Kaito's embrace and turned over, his back facing Kaito.

“Oh come on Shinichi!! Also, no ‘I love you’...?” Shinichi could easily picture the pout on Kaito’s face. .

He turned over again and stuck out his tongue, “I love you, idiot.”

“H― Hang on I wasn't actually expecting you to say it―!”

“No ‘I love you too', Kaito?” Shinichi said, his tone turning smug.

“Hey! I'm the thief here! Don't steal my lines!”

“That doesn't sound like ‘I love you.’”

“You…! I love you too okay!? Give me a break here!” Kaito whined. He shut up the minute Shinichi kissed his cheek.

“And you’re forgiven.” Shinichi gave him a cheeky grin before closing his eyes again and settling back in his arms. Kaito grumbled, yet the corners of his lips curled upwards.

“Goodnight, Shinichi.”

―――

OMAKE

“... dou… Oi… ku...!”

Words were incomprehensible. Shinichi stirred in his sleep, moving his hand to swat whatever the noise was.

The shaking only got more insistent.

“Kudou-kun, why is there two of you!?”

That snapped him out of his drowsiness. He jerked upright despite the ache in his neck and looked around.

Kaito was pulling at his collar nervously, giving Shinichi a shaky smile. Takagi stared at the two of them questioningly. A crowd started to form near the door. Some were alarmed, while others tried to peek inside curiously.

“Oh god, why is his hair done like mine.” While his hair was a little messy from sleeping on the floor, no one could miss the sight of Shinichi’s characteristic cowlick on top of Kaito’s head. But Shinichi was sure he had messed with Kaito's hair to prevent that from happening.

“Uh―” He started, but KID spoke too, loud enough to drown it out.

“Inspector Takagi, that's KID! He knocked me out last night and tried to impersonate me, but I made sure I took him down with me!”

Shinichi remained frozen in shock for a little too long.

Bodys began to pile on top of him, and Shinichi cursed as he watched KID walk away with a smug grin on his face. He mouthed an apology before dashing away, but that wouldn't be enough to quell the anger building up in Shinichi's chest.

Shinichi was going to strangle KID the next time they met.

#my fics.#kaishin #dcmk.#[wipes sweat off forehead] whew

31 notes · View notes

ahmortentia · 5 years

Text

MBTI as people i know

INFP The INFPs I know are probably the people who know the most about me? They can be judgy at times, but when they know it’s serious I trust them the most to not give me a look. Would I go to an INFP before my mother? probably. They’re really bad about eating regularly—sometimes they’ll send a text at seven pm that says “oh i forgot to eat?” Which makes me worried. They’re very sensitive to noise and surroundings, more so than other types. They tend to get really deep into something when they like it; they aren’t casual about their favorite things. They check in on people and really don’t like to burden others with their problems. At low points, they’ll wish someone would check in on them. Really good at focusing on one thing, but tends to struggle with five things at once. Negative side is that sometimes she gets so wrapped up in things/her feelings that she can’t really pay attention to her surroundings.

ISFP She’s kind of mysterious; I know bits of her past because we’ve been friends for a long time, but I wouldn’t know otherwise. She takes humor and throws it into her life; she tells great, hilarious stories, but seems too spaced out to really use that as a function. Sometimes she rambles off, almost lost in thought. She seems careful to not interrupt other people, she’s very polite. Sometimes, though, she can be really present in a conversation and it’s almost scary. We both find the same things funny; the most random words and phrases will pop into our heads and we’ll start laughing our asses off. Hufflepuff vibes, cares about other people but can be awkward in showing it. Doesn’t really know what’s going on, but is along for the ride. Never self-deprecating but never, ever arrogant. Kind.

INFJ The two INFJs I know really like mbti and I talk about it with them a lot? I don’t know if this is common within the type. The INFJ has strong moral code. Kind, cares about others. Very polite, seems to know what to say when. Has dreams and then also has an idea of how to get there; it’s not as strictly planned and straightforward, but it’s there. Somehow a soft voice (or maybe buttery?), regardless of what they’re saying. Has a good sense of the world, of how the world is; likes classifications, categories in the world. Unafraid. Negative side is that it’s hard to argue with INFJs because they have such a deeply rooted sense of self, and can take things very, very seriously.

ISFJ This is someone I’m placing here based on my semester’s observations. He loves telling stories about his life; when we talk, he’ll always be reminded of something that happened recently or even a long time ago. Gives advice in the form of a good story. Has a warmth about him, always smiles and waves. Gentle. He asks how everyone is doing, makes sure there’s a good group dynamic; will move and push things aside for people. Gives off huge Hufflepuff vibes, big suburban dad vibes. Will tell you how he feels and isn’t afraid to express his affection in words; an open book with all his life. Loves what he does and loves learning, isn’t afraid to be wrong and acknowledges when he doesn’t know. Downside is I fear people take advantage of his goodness.

INTP Gentle, but has his opinions. Stubborn as hell; likes to debate about abstract theories and things. Enjoys chasing the why. Private, takes a while to open up. Loves his planner but more for doodling and writing his thoughts than actually planning. Never sees his opinion as the way---is cautious to never assume he’s always right---but he’s right a lot of the time. It’s possible a tiny part of him knows it. Patient, willing to let me ramble for years on end before saying his bit. It’s like he tastes his words, swishes them around in his mouth before saying them. He’s sweet.

INTJ Sees things in black and white with little to no grey areas. Sometimes corrects my jokes, which is…. Ouch. Takes things very seriously, but never seems to be driven by a passionate feeling. Loves learning, but isn’t interested in being a part of academia. A nice nerd. Makes you feel like you know him, but then he’ll tell you he has a dog and you never knew that. A really good person in the sense that he keeps to the rules and tries to do the best for everyone. Very private. Likes routine, sticks to similar outfits and the same colors. Jokes may not be laugh-out-loud like some people’s, but they’re always clever and smart. Enjoys indie music. Can be a little awkward or uncomfortable, especially if it’s a new situation. Not the best at thinking on his feet.

ISTP Always has a good time; laughs loudly with his friends. Thinks well on his feet--writes limericks and jokes on the spot as opposed to doodling. Never really plans things but is open to hanging out whenever, is laidback, doesn’t really try but manages to do well in everything. He’s somehow both put together and a total mess. Clever, witty. Can be a little bit of a showoff, apparently, but I’ve never seen that side of him. Makes a lot of self-deprecating jokes, but easily transitions into insult humor with his friends. He doesn’t really seem to change much around different people. Terrible at chess. Somewhat understanding, I think sometimes he can get stuck in his head a bit.

ISTJ I sit across from him on the couch and I ramble to him, he tells me stories in such a concise manner. He tends to focus on what people say and what really happens in the story. Rational, straightforward. He sees things more in black and white: this happened, this didn’t happen. Really good at debating and arguing things. I always lose. He’s sharp and so funny. He doesn’t mind so much making fun of people at their expense; in fact, most of his friends are the same way and they all have a good time. Unafraid to tell me when to shut the fuck up, especially when it’s needed. Clever, analytical, very good with numbers. Somewhat impatient.

ENFP I love her so much; energetic, balanced, she has a laugh that makes my heart flutter. When she finds things funny, she’s unafraid to show her feelings. She lives vigorously. She’s really funny; there’s a wit that lives in her. She goes by her feelings a lot. Knows there’s something in her gut and follows it through; gives sound advice because her gut is always, ALWAYS right. Sometimes doesn’t trust herself even though she really should. And when she goes back on herself, it turns out badly and she gets confused and insecure. Another ENFP I know is so gentle and warm, and very, very good at making and keeping connections. She’s soft, but in the best way: she loves and loves and you can feel the warmth spreading from her fingertips into the air. I worry she takes on too much; both are unskilled in the saying no department.

ESFP I used to know her relatively well as a kid, but we’ve split up since then. She’s so energetic and loud. The two words that are most apt are social butterfly: she flutters from person to person, bright and passionate, dragging everyone along to the next adventure. She can’t control her excitement--she stands up when she gets excited. She offers to drive her friends places, especially if they don’t have a car (it’s on the way or she’s got time). Popular, well-liked, always smiling. Will walk up to someone she hasn’t seen in years, or maybe someone she barely knows, and has this skill of making them feel known. Her energy, sometimes, can be too much, though.

ENFJ She feels things deeply. Looks out for everyone in a situation. Makes lots of jokes to help others feel comfortable, or to make herself feel more comfortable (usually self-deprecating jokes). Good at understanding what you say even when you speak gibberish. Bold. Talks with everyone, and is very cool. Chill. Doesn’t really change drastically in different environments; she is who she is. Smart, especially in a practical sense: also has a real gut intuition and just Knows what’s right emotionally. Decisive, trusts her feelings and sticks to them. Stands up for what she believes is right—she makes me proud to be her friend. Negative side is that sometimes she feels like the way she sees things is the only way; if something is obvious, then it should be obvious to everyone.

ESFJ Another one of my closest friends. Goes on coffee runs for people, is willing to go way out of her way to get people home safe. Knows what she wants and gets it. Is unafraid of talking to people, asking for help, or even texting people she doesn’t know. The glue of a group, consistently checks in. Well known throughout, but doesn’t strive to make her name known; it’s just who she is. Very popular, good-hearted. She enjoys calling and FaceTiming people—what more can I say about that extroversion? Spreads love and joy wherever she can. Negative side is that she can get absorbed in her feelings and sometimes she doesn’t see how she’s affecting other people with what she’s saying.

ENTP So, so cocky. The one person I know of this type is someone I’ve placed here myself. Sharp, cutting…Biting sense of humor that makes the room come alive but never feels bitter. Tends to mock the people he likes the most. Very blunt: doesn’t dwell on the past but thinks about what he can do next. Can’t really listen for the sake of listening, he needs a purpose. Enjoys attention. Thinks well on his feet but terrible at planning; leaves things vague and doesn’t feel specifics are necessary. Tendency to make observations and translate them into analysis, but without any feeling or personal input involved. Intimidating. Maybe, maybe cares under 78 layers of doesn’t give a fuck; will never say how he feels.

ENTJ She never understands my complaints because there’s always a simple solution: just do x, y, z. She’s supportive, but not in a cheerleader way. She’s quick, good at getting things done; smart and tries hard even when she makes it seem like she doesn’t care. She sticks up for her friends and isn’t afraid to call someone out on their bullshit to their face. Uses reason and logic to get her way; great at debating and arguing, and seems to always hold herself together even when she jokes about a mental breakdown she had earlier. Has a nice laugh and always has interesting facts in her head. Knows her shit about music. She jokingly adopts a holier-than-thou attitude about some things, but everyone knows it isn’t to be taken seriously (and if you don’t know that, then you definitely aren’t friends with her). She can do impulsive things, or get dragged into impulsive things. Can think she’s always in the right and that other people are wrong.

ESTP Electric. I’ve never known her up close, so I can’t say much, but she has this energy that makes you look up when she enters a room. Knows how to have a good time. Can be a bit cutting or rude, especially to people she doesn’t know; doesn’t really care about who someone is, she has to say what she thinks is right. You primarily have to earn her respect. She’s the type who will walk up to a stranger to compliment their shirt. Enjoys being in the spotlight to the point that the spotlight naturally rests on her, it’s attached to her. Seems absolutely fearless, even though she may have doubts inside. Has taken her identity and made it into a badge of honor. Doesn’t plan things herself, but falls off that metaphorical cliff and lands in a catlike way, defying gravity. She maneuvers life having perfected improvisation.

ESTJ She, like the ISTJ, thinks so logically. But there’s something else to it: whereas the ISTJ is more independent and sticks to their own, the ESTJ wants to go-go-go. Always has a plan or an idea in her head, always wants to go out and do things, regardless of what. Loves making plans almost as much as I do. She sticks to her facts and has a tendency to forget feelings in the equation. She thinks in such a linear manner, going from A to B to C. Thorough. Bright, cheery, and loves her everyday. Negative side is that she latches onto facts and outside opinion wherever she can: instagram likes, the people who respond to her texts, her reputation according to others. She doesn’t consider how she should feel, especially internally.

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rosemaidenvixen · 5 years

Text

You are my Sunshine

Chapter 4: Six

Ao3

The sound of crackling plastic made Barbara looked up from the pan she was drying.

Jim sat on the floor holding the pieces a broken remote control car, yet another casualty of his preternatural strength.

Tears shone in his eyes, the corners of his mouth wobbled; surefire signs of a tantrum beginning to rear its ugly head.

She bit back an aggravated groan.

It had been over a year since Jim’s nocturnal transformation had started, and somehow the two of them had managed to keep it secret and maintain semi-normal lives.

Jim had come to the conclusion that what he turned into was a monster from the Disney movie he liked about monsters hiding in kids’ closets. Barbara herself wasn’t crazy about using that particular word to describe what he changed into, but it helped Jim cope, so she learned to live with it.

They survived by following a strict set of rules. No telling anyone about his blue form; not even Toby or Nana Domzalski. Barbara had drilled that into him as hard as she dared. Both of them had to be inside the house with doors locked and curtains shut half an hour before sunset. She worked only during the day now, it had taken all of her bargaining power and every last favor she could call in, but she got the clinic to agree. Barbara needed to be home to take care of Jim, babysitters weren’t an option any more.

Making sure the pan wasn’t dripping, Barbara set it down on the counter and walked over to Jim.

They were no closer to the big answers, but day to day consistencies in Jim’s change had revealed some clues.

The transformation was consistent, every night he took the same blue, stony shape. It happened strictly according to the movement of the sun. Jim changed as soon as the sun set completely and turned back to normal the instant the first rays of sunshine peeked over the horizon in the morning. How long it lasted varied according to the seasons and the corresponding lengths of days and nights. Cloudy or stormy weather didn’t affect the timing of his change at all.

The initial concerns she’d had over the change affecting his health proved to be groundless. His blue appearance didn't change on a night to night basis. Jim appeared to grow and develop at the rate a healthy child should in either form.

Interestingly enough, he didn’t need to sleep very much when he was blue. Barbara had stressed over Jim’s seeming insomnia for months before she managed to establish a schedule that suited his requirements.

But, that didn’t mean that there weren’t problems. In his nocturnal form, all of Jim’s senses were heightened to the Nth degree. Timers and smoke alarms weren’t annoying, they were ear-splittingly painful. Flashlights were blinding. He could vomit from the smell of vapor rub alone. On top of that, Jim was significantly stronger and more durable to. It all boiled down to Jim having a hard time doing a lot of his favorite activities once the sun went down.

Case in point, Jim whimpered at the broken toy, now starting to tremble as well. Barbara had to be careful, if handled correctly the oncoming tantrum could be diffused before it started.

“Can I see?”

Jim didn’t respond, not reacting as she gently pried the car out of his hands. A cursory examination revealed that while the body and doors of the car were pulverized, the motor and wheels were intact.

“We can fix your car,” she said cheerily “If we glue it back together tonight it will be all better by tomorrow,”

Her words had no effect on him. Jim’s sniffles and whines were increasing in volume and frequency. In less than a minute they were sure to escalate into full blown sobs and screams.

Barbara grimaced, looks like a quick fix wasn’t going to do it tonight. She sat back on her haunches and placed both hands firmly on Jim’s shoulders.

“Jim, look at me,” she took care to ensure her tone was low and firm, but also comforting and calm.

The whines didn’t stop, but Jim did raise his eyes to meet hers.

“I want you to take big breaths in through your nose,”

Jim panted and gasped, inhaling deeply in spite of his sniffling. Barbara let herself relax a little bit and started rubbing his back. He was listening to her tonight, that was good.

“Like we practiced,” she continued “Five mississippi's in, hold for five, five mississippi’s out,”

Shakily, he did as she asked. Four breath cycles and he stopped shaking, at eight his sobs faded away. Three more and all that remained of the averted tantrum was the occasional sniffle.

“Feeling better?”

Jim snorted back unused tears “uh, huh,”

Barbara let out a small sigh of relief and brought him in for a hug; averting her gaze from the basement door behind him.

This past year had been so hard on Jim. Every night he was forced into a different shape and had to deal with all of the side effects as they came. Being confined to the house while Toby and his friends were out having fun wasn’t fair, but what else could they do.

All Jim wanted to do was run and scream and play like a normal child; he couldn’t help the overstimulation and heightened strength that came with his blue form. Barbara knew this wasn’t good for him; being shut in and bottled up, but there were no other options. Jim couldn’t leave the house at night without the risk of discovery and all the consequences that came with it. So here they were, trying to make the best of a horrible situation.

Jim was still struggling to manage it all, no six year old should have to deal with the kind of stress that he did. He had started throwing explosive tantrums over the littlest things, more often than not they resulted in something breaking.

Barbara had been able to get a second-hand punching bag that was now set up in the basement. It wasn’t ideal, but it did provide a physical outlet for Jim where he didn’t have to worry about breaking or damaging anything. The punching bag did its job, but she might as well put a patch job on a shredded tire. It didn’t solve any of the underlying issues that led to the tantrums in the first place.

With Jim’s unnatural strength and durability, his tantrums had started to build to terrifying heights. One night it got so bad Barbara found herself doing the unthinkable.

She had just been so exhausted from work and Jim wouldn’t stop screaming and kicking the walls no matter how much she tried to calm him down. Before she fully knew what she was doing, Barbara was carrying him into the basement, walking out, and locking the door behind him.

Afterward she had just sat on the couch, blankly staring at the wall while Jim screamed himself into exhaustion a storey below her.

Barbara had promised herself that she would never do it again; next time she would keep her cool, not lose her patience the way she did.

Never again had happened less than a month later.

Every time Barbara locked the basement door she swore to herself that this would be the last time. Then a few nights later, some little thing would inevitably send Jim flying off the handle beyond her control and it the cycle would start all over again. Barbara was at the end of her rope, it was hard enough providing for the two of them while keeping Jim’s nightly change a secret, even without the constant fits and tantrums.

She didn’t know how much more of this she could take.

Not now, don’t think about that right now, thinking about it would just overwhelm her, if she started going to pieces now she wouldn’t be able to stop. Barbara was just going to have to trust herself to figure this out. She was all Jim had. The two of them had made it this far; one way or another their family would survive.

But right now she needed to focus on the situation at hand.

Barbara stood up, wincing as the blood flowed back into her calves “How about we go into the kitchen, I’ve got a surprise for you,”

Jim perked up at the promise of a surprise and quickly scampered into the next room. He took a seat at the counter, watching while she got various items out of the pantry and fridge.

Another challenge posed by his transformation was diet. Quite simply, when Jim was in his blue form, food just wasn’t edible.

There had been some rare hits along with the uncountable misses. Oddly enough, stuffed mushrooms topped that list. Needless to say, Jim’s nighttime diet for the past year had been wildly inconsistent and nowhere near balanced.

Jim eyed the growing number of packages on the counter with no small amount of curiosity. Earlier that week she had gone shopping for the most outlandish and exotic items she could find; even making a trip to the Whole Foods two towns over.

“I got a bunch of new foods so we can figure out things for you to eat when you’re blue,” she said while gesturing to the various packages.

Jim eagerly looked over the assorted items on the counter and started browsing through them.

Barbara let the tension fall out of her shoulders, it looked like Jim would be relaxed and engaged in trying new foods for the rest of the evening, no more tantrums tonight “So, what do you want to try first?”

Jim pointed at a small jar “That one,”

Barbara picked up the jar in question.

‘Blueberry Vanilla Chia Seed Cashew Butter’

Well if that wasn’t the most pretentious thing she had ever seen, Barbara didn’t know what was. Still, if Jim could eat it she would make it a household staple.

Unscrewing the lid, Barbara scooped out some of the butter with a spoon and handed it to Jim.

Wasting no time, Jim popped the butter laden spoon into his mouth and started chewing.

Barbara opened her mouth to ask him what he thought of it when a metallic twang cut her off.

She stared, slack-jawed, in shock.

Jim still held the handle of the spoon, only now it’s head had been ripped clean off.

For a few moments the two of them didn’t move, then Jim hesitantly started chewing, the sound of shearing metal echoing in the silent kitchen, before he swallowed with a small gulp.

#Tales of Arcadia #Trollhunters #jim lake jr #Barbara Lake #fanfic #rmvwrites #you are my sunshine

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manuelmueller · 6 years

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Neuller und 38.

38. “Why can’t you appreciate my sense of humor?” + Neuller

For the past ten minutes, ever since boarding the plane, Thomas has been carefully eyeing Manuel out of the corner of his eye. He’s sitting on the other side of the aisle, just a few rows ahead of him. A few strands of his hair have fallen out of his usually so uniform hairdo, covering his forehead in a way that makes him look decidedly more boyish (and adorable) than usual.

It’s a good look, Thomas thinks, as he fondly observes the goalkeeper’s head lolling to the side as he visibly struggles with staying awake. Thomas knows they slightly overdid it last night, but they’d both been pumped from the win, too giddy to sleep, too in love to let go of each other.

On his other side, in the window seat, Mats is talking constantly. Usually he doesn’t particularly need Thomas to acknowledge him much, but now, Thomas flinches when his friend unceremoniously pokes his side, glaring at him.

“Why can’t you appreciate my sense of humor?”

He sounds genuinely offended, but Thomas knows it’s only a means to an end. Mats always craves attention and usually whines when he doesn’t get it.

Thomas shoots him a toothy grin as he tries to temporarily ban any thoughts about his blond adonis from his mind.

“Well Hummels, if you were actually funny, that wouldn’t be a problem now, would it.”

Mats huffs and crosses his arms in front of his chest, turning away from Thomas and staring vacantly out of the small oval window instead. Thomas fondly shakes his head and instead pulls out his phone, snapping a quick, private photo of Manuel before pulling up their whatsapp chat.

Looking very cute there Spatz ♡

They don’t text sappy nonsense that often, but somehow, in that moment, a fondness for his boyfriend surges through Thomas that he couldn’t even really describe. He longs to hold his hand and curses Leon who had asked their captain to sit next to him. He shakes his head at the next message he sends, but he can’t help it.

It’s probably stupid but I miss you and I really want to hold your hand right now

God, and to know that usually, Manu is the clingy one – but sometimes even a Thomas Müller can’t help being terribly sappy.

He startles when someone clears their throat right next to his ear. Mats is peering over his shoulder and right onto his phone screen.

“Who is ‘Nunu’? And why are you sending lovey-dovey texts to someone at all; didn’t you say you were single?”

In fact, Thomas hasn’t said anything. Sure, Mats knows him and Lisa have been separated for a while, but he never answered whenever the defender asked him about his relationship status or if there was anyone he had his eyes on.

It’s not exactly like they particularly doesn’t want him to know or anything – but despite probably denying it on his deathbed, Mats Hummels is quite the blabbermouth, and informing him of his relationship with their captain would ultimately equal to letting the entire team know as well.

So Thomas sighs, pocketing his phone hopefully before Mats has time to recognize the probably familiar status image. Then he puts on a lazy grin.

“Has no one ever told you that it isn’t nice to disrespect people’s privacy?” the mischief in his voice does the rest of the job.

Mats throws up his hands, but he’s grinning. Well, at least he doesn’t seem too cross that Thomas hasn’t told him that he’s in fact been seeing someone.

“Alright, alright, don’t tell me. I will eventually find out by myself, anyway.”

To that, Thomas only groans.

It’s only two weeks later that Mats almost walks in on them making out. Thomas had Manu pressed against the shower – a very reckless decision to make, he’s very much aware, but both of them, upon realizing that they were the last ones under the shower, having sent each other heated glances ever since for over an hour now, really weren’t able to help it.

Somehow, they managed to spring far enough apart that Mats doesn’t even cast Manu (water running over his shoulders, facing the wall so you can’t see his predicament or his heated cheeks) a single glance before giving Thomas a once-over with a lewd smirk firmly fixed on his face.

Thomas, still wondering how Manuel even managed to get the shower turned on before Mats came into sight – he blames it on his goalkeeper reflexes – is standing in the middle of the room, his … excitement …clearly visible, his breath short.

Mats whistles. “Been thinking about your girl, haven’t we?” he grins before winking at him, picking up his shampoo bottle from where he’d left it on the ground and leaving again.

Manu’s eyes are unfocused when he turns back to Thomas, but by his frown it’s crystal clear that the mood is truly and entirely killed. “Girl?”

The younger one only shrugs. “He caught me texting you a while ago. Apparently he’s now on the hunt to find out who my mystery girlfriend is.”

Manu only snorts before he takes his hand, leaning in for a last peck.

A few days later, it happens again. This time, they’re sitting on Thomas’ couch, with Manu’s back leaning against Thomas’ chest, Thomas’ arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, occasionally nosing his hair as they’re watching TV, when they hear someone barge through the entrance door.

Thomas curses under his breath. His gate has a code that only his friends know about, but he really should start to lock the door nevertheless. Manu of course has already pulled away, settling at the other side of the couch with wide eyes.

Mats, of course, doesn’t seem even mildly surprised seeing their captain in Thomas’ home, but instead, he’s frowning at him.

“Didn’t you say your bae was gonna come over today?”

Thomas groans. He did indeed, two days ago, after endless pestering from his curly-haired friend, admit that him and his mysterious partner did in fact intend to spend a quiet night together in a couple days time, just in the hopes that he’d let it go.

“And why, dare I ask, did you come over knowing I’d likely be spending quality time with my significant other?”

At least Mats has the decency to look slightly sheepish. He gnaws at his bottom lip, huffs, then offers an apologetic shrug.

“Sorry. Cathy took the kiddo to her friend and I was really bored. Could I maybe join your movie night?”

Thomas sighs while Manu rolls his eyes so hard that it looks like it must hurt.

“Sure.”

It’s relieving to see that Manu looks just as displeased as Thomas feels when Mats plops his butt down right between them, turning towards the TV with a content grin. Especially when still, he hasn’t fessed up to the fact that he does have an ulterior motive.

The third time it happens, Thomas is at the end of his tether. He doesn’t know exactly how and why Mats chose to drive halfway through the city just to bump into them on their daily morning run, clearly having the same idea, but honestly, what’s enough is enough.

“Are you actually following me?” he asks, and he can feel the exasperation in his voice that, even when Mats can be annoying on a normal day as well, usually isn’t there.

Mats blinks at him, and Manu, on his left, snorts.

“Actually I was not, no. Hi, Mull – Manu.”

Manu offers him a short nod, and Thomas only huffs. For about three minutes, they run side by side, and it strangely starts to feel like a small, private training session, just with both Mats and Thomas being uncharacteristically quiet, until Mats finally opens his mouth again.

“You know, you probably wouldn’t feel like I stalked you if you actually acted like a friend normally would and told me about the person you’re seeing who you’re clearly very in love with.”

Okay. Okay, that isn’t really what Thomas expected. He looks at Manu, but Manu only shrugs. He looks strangely unbothered by this whole thing, in fact, there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

But Mats isn’t finished yet. “And I know you probably have a good reason for not telling me, I just find it strange that I’ve never seen a pic of her or heard you talk about her or even mention her or anything!”

Thomas sighs. He runs a hand through his damp curls – it’s quite foggy, and the wetness is sticking to his hair like glue. He looks at Manu again. His boyfriend offers him a shy nod.

Thomas smacks his lips.

“I do talk about my significant other quite a bit, to be honest. And we spend most of our time together.”

The puzzled look on Mats’ face is worth all the annoyance he had to suffer through the past few weeks.

“What–” he wants to ask, but Thomas cuts him off.

“Actually, we’re spending time together right now. Just as we were that evening when you barged in on our date night.”

He can see the gears in Mats’ mind turning, but somehow, he doesn’t seem to figure it out. In fact, he looks thoroughly confused. After another turn and a few more agonizing seconds, Thomas throws his hands up in exasperation before turning to Manuel.

At first, he wants to lean in to kiss him, but then he remembers just in time where they are. (Sure, the park is mostly deserted, but at the same time, they’re still in public.) So he just sighs one last frustrated sigh, throws an arm over Manuel’s shoulders in what could be a completely platonic gesture.

“There. Here’s my boyfriend, Mats, and he has been here all along.”

Actually, seeing Mats gape at them with what can only be described as shock is probably the best moment in Thomas’ entire life.

“You’re kidding,” he says.

But before Thomas has time to reply, Manu softly shakes his head and gently covers Thomas’ hand where it’s resting on his shoulder with his own.

“He really isn’t.”

And well, then, the only thing that’s left for Mats to do is let out an incredulous cackle.

“Well, fuck me!”

Manu’s grin is quite shiteating. “Sorry, not interested. I’m taken.”

And well, that makes Thomas laugh too.

Drabbles I should have written three months ago (closed)

#THIS TOOK ME FOREVER #AND IT'S PROBABLY REALLY BAD #but anyway i'm super glad i got it done #only three left to go uff #also??? if anyone wants to help me whereas to post this on it's own #or in the collection #that'd be super helpful #cause it is like 1800 words long #but it doesn't feel like it's like .... rich enough to be it's own oneshot #('sorry not interested. i'm taken'#that #and he's also a bottom ashkajhs)#temsah #neuller #my writing #*drabbles #long post

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kiruuuuu · 6 years

Text

Blitz/Rook oneshot in which they’re on the beach. (Rating G, fluff fluff fluff, ~1.6k words) - written for @magehir because it’s been too long since I wrote your favs being adorable 💕

Coming to the beach was a good idea, Blitz concludes. Even if it might not be the beautiful Mediterranean sea and even if they’re not in as desperate a need for a splash in the cool water as they were the week before when they half-heartedly made plans until Sledge actually looked up the shortest way to the sea from Hereford, it was still very much a brilliant idea. Blitz was hesitant at first since he’s not someone who prefers going on vacations to the beach, he’d rather explore the rest of the world and marvel at all the wonders it offers, so an accumulation of sand on Wales’ shores isn’t high on his list of must-sees – but they’re only staying for one weekend anyway. Besides, everyone else’s good mood is contagious.

Not everyone was interested, not everyone got the chance to join them and so they’re mostly comprised of the GSG9, SAS and a few others who share small holiday apartments into which enough beds have been crammed that they house up to five people each though they’re admittedly so crowded it’s hard not to trip over each other when they’re all present. Blitz is rooming with the younger operators, namely Mute, Rook and Glaz, the trio which sticks together like glue, Mute with biting yet entertaining sarcasm, Rook with unending enthusiasm and Glaz with fierce loyalty and patience. The German has become fond of them and watching them desperately trying to protect their sandcastle is a joy.

They earned some mocking remarks upon Glaz announcing the three of them would spend the better part of the afternoon engaging in an activity more suited for kids, though when Smoke jokingly called them manchildren, Mute drily countered that they at least don’t literally start crying whenever a wasp lands on them and successfully prevented all further attempts at making fun of them by simply pointing out an easier target. Blitz could barely hold back a grin whenever someone made a buzzing sound near Smoke’s ear.

So the younglings were free to buy spades and spend an inordinate amount of time on planning where to actually erect their pleasure palace, judging the markings of the tide but also keeping a future thrill in mind of having to defend it against the rising flood – if they built it where the sea wouldn’t reach, there’d be no danger, yet if they built it too low they’d risk being overwhelmed too early. This is when Blitz left them to it, wishing them the best of luck and gallivanting off with Sledge and whoever his friend dragged along.

When he came back a few minutes ago, he was greeted by an impressive structure, the design undoubtedly decided by Mute though the other two decorated and adorned the plain sand with seashells, algae, cuttlebones and even a dead jellyfish on a throne overlooking their efforts. And as sightly as it is, right now it’s being threatened by the approaching tide, every other wave filling up the first moat around the structure and clogging the drain with more sand, necessitating Rook to try and shovel it free in between jumping away from the saltwater with a shriek.

“How long do you think it’s going to hold up?”, Blitz addresses no one in particular, hands pushed into his pockets as he watches the bustling from only a few steps away, a smile playing on his lips.

“As long as we don’t give up hope!”, Glaz replies passionately and reclaims one of his feet which had begun to slowly get stuck in the wet sand.

“I’m never giving up”, Rook adds with a decisive nod while aggressively paddling the water out of the moat with his spade, “if need be, I’ll go down with it.”

“The moat won’t do much like this, we can try to build an impromptu wall and re-dig it while it holds off the waves”, Mute suggests and immediately begins delegating, starts to dig with a ferocity he’ll indubitably feel the next day. “Did the others bore you to death or did you come here to laugh at our efforts which will be inevitably in vain?”

“Neither nor”, Blitz responds. “James and Seamus wanted to go drinking in a local pub and are currently part of a shirtless push-up contest which I did not want to be part of.”

The digging stops, as expected. The three throw each other a series of meaningful glances that amuse Blitz to no end while a wave, uncharacteristically unnoticed, tears down the small lumps of sand designed to be a wall but ending up as a sad excuse instead. He feels his eyebrows rise the more pained Mute and Glaz glance at their companion who eventually rolls his eyes with a sigh. “Go ahead, then.”

“Which pub?”, the young Brit wants to know and Blitz readily gives him directions, acutely aware of how nonchalant Glaz is trying to look. “Ta, I owe you. Let’s go, pine cone.”

Blitz extends a hand and accepts Glaz’ spade, watching after the two hurrying up to the promenade from where he came just a few minutes prior.

“You’re a bad liar”, Rook tells him and he doesn’t need to turn around to hear the grin in his voice.

“I was telling mostly the truth.” The Frenchman’s cheeks are an endearing shade of red and Blitz’ follow suit despite how much he tries to suppress it. “They weren’t shirtless though. Still, the two will probably get an eyeful regardless.”

“And you get to protect Queen Squishy with me. Come on, start shovelling.” They both pick up the pace, Blitz familiarising himself with the feel of his tool first before he begins complying with Rook’s orders. The sea is moving in more insistently now, daring them to divert their attention for a second so it can flood their shoes but they manage to stay alert for now. During a lull in conversation which centres mainly on their immediate task and sometimes includes tangents about the trip itself, Rook looks up and asks quietly: “Did you really just want to spend some time alone with me?”

They both know the answer to it – how could they not when it’s this multifaceted, pre-emptively provided by a series of conversations begun casually in the presence of others and ended sometimes in the dead of night, in hushed voices, in one of their flats because they somehow stuck together like velcro and separating would’ve been too much effort for too little reward. And so they gravitated along before realising that no, normally, people don’t talk about their favourite childhood cartoons while lounging on the floor, propped up against perfectly fine furniture and trying to throw M&Ms into each other’s mouths. The answer is comprised of shy glances, standing just a tad too closely, faces lighting up for no reason other than seeing a certain name in their phone’s notifications. It feels flighty but isn’t, it’s a bird which returns when called but otherwise stays just out of reach. And Rook just called it to make sure it’s still there.

It is. Blitz nods. “I did”, he says. “And I still do.”

The swears Rook shouts across the beach when the first cold splashes get absorbed by his socks make Blitz laugh so much he has to stop trying to save the second moat for a few seconds. It doesn’t take long until he, too, notices his soaked trouser legs caked with wet sand and from then on, it only goes downhill. Walls fall after being eroded by the merciless sea, moats are flooded and ornaments washed away despite their best efforts. Blitz’ arms hurt and he tastes the salty air on his lips, grimaces at the way his shoes start squelching after a while. Queen Squishy sadly witnesses the fall of her kingdom, bravely awaiting the moment she, too, gets carried away by the neverending flood.

He gets caught up in Rook’s joyous energy nonetheless, smiles at his squeaks and yelps, grins whenever he lets out a heartfelt curse and soon they’re both giggling and dramatically narrating the castle being swallowed by The Deep, describing in detail how some residents spontaneously develop the ability to breathe underwater and realise this is where they belong. This is where they should’ve been all along.

And they look at each other with a spark in their eyes.

Eventually, they fail. It was inevitable when they chose their spot, allowing future generations of sandcastle builders to try their hand at the impossible and though the whole endeavour should feel futile, has an air of nihilism to it, there’s more. Because while it seems as though all they have to show for an entire afternoon is sand in Rook’s hair, wet feet and aching muscles, memories can’t be quantified nor seen. And so the result is rich and worth all the effort.

“She got a burial at sea”, Rook says wistfully. “Befitting a monarch.”

The grin they share is pure and familiar and knowing and Blitz’ gaze is drawn to the way the young man’s lips bend around his next words even though he catches none of them, his brain too preoccupied with a question – a question which, once having entered his mind, demands immediate satisfaction, declares itself highest priority and so Blitz has no choice but to give in. He does not yet think of returning to their tiny flat, taking turns in the shower, washing off the sea clinging to them and maybe having some time alone still. He does not yet consider the possibility of cuddling in a bed or leaning against each other on the sofa.

Because right now, he’s content with knowing that yes, Rook’s lips do, in fact, taste of salt and sun and intimacy. Just as he thought.

#rainbow six siege #blitz #rook #blitz/rook #fanfic #oneshot #this will now be my official nickname for glaz #also blitz knows exactly what the other two want to see #can't really blame them

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gujoonim · 6 years

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The Boy Who Left | 07

“You never thought it takes you five years to find those pair of eyes that you were looking for at the aisle on your wedding day. ”

◇ genre : angst // ceo au ◇ summary : As your eyes staring deeply into your possible client-to-be’s eyes, something crossed your mind, it was that pair of eyes that you were looking for when you being abandoned at the aisle on your wedding day. ◇ pairing : jungkook x reader ◇ words : 4.6k

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The night wind blowing faintly as it caresses your cheek that is flushing in the colour of rosy pink. You look at him full of melancholy as your heart is touched with his action. You had witnessed how a Jungkook who often think about himself rather than other people, now becoming someone which is more humble and always being respectful to other despite their age.

He is totally different from the Jungkook that you used to know before. He’s different now.

Your sister’s words keep lingering in your head as if a broken radio. After you had been standing for a long time in front of his house, witnessing a few emotional scenes between a father and a son somehow you find that your sister’s words make sense.

Why Jungkook willingly to sacrifice his life in order to provide a better life for your family who isn’t blood-related with him.

When you make an eye contact with him, you feel like a spark burst in your body, something that lightens up your spirit at that moment. His eyes fill with affection looking straight at you. The rays of confusion and worries seen on are the face when he saw you, confuse of your presence there and worry that you are still outside of the house. Yet, you can only mouth for him to get down.

He nods as if he understands your request before his figure disappears from there. Then, you shift your gaze from the balcony towards the main door of his house as your heart full with hope; hoping that he arrived there as soon as he can. So that you can achieve your main motive of being there.

“Y/n.” A soft yet audible voice that resonates into your heart and you instantly shot your head up. As you are of his presence there, you hurtling towards him before engulfing him into a hug.

He looks surprised over your action as he seems to` freeze on to the ground and not uttering a word at all. Instead, you are the one break the silence, seeking for his forgiveness.

“I’m so sorry and thank you, Jeon Jungkook. Thank you so much.” You say while embracing his waist.

“What for?” He dumbfounded but he stroke his hands against your back so that he could soothe your feelings.

You loosen your embrace before lift up your head to face him. You stare into his flickering doe eyes that fill with shimmer. “Sorry for not giving you a chance to explain all of this. Sorry for fully believing in Mina and accuse you with those ridiculous accusations.”

You bit your lips, prevent yourself from crying in front of him before you could gather all your strength to continue your talk. “Thanks for saving my family from poverty. But why you had to sacrifice your family business for ours, Jungkook?”

He startles with your question as his forehead began to crease. “How do you know about this?” He asks as curiosity starts to boil.

You instantly reply to him, “Youngae, she told me everything. Why, Jungkook?”

He chuckles while diverting his eyes on the ground. His lip curls a smile, which you don’t even know what the reason behind those smile is.

“All the things that I sacrificed wasn’t enough to compare with all the pain that I put you through. You deserve more than that.” He claims with a serious tone beneath his words as his eyes gazing straight into yours. As if he wants to convey his feeling at that time.

“Why you are still with Mina?” A question that suddenly comes out of your mouth without you noticing and once you are, it is already too late. You don’t know how you could blurt out that question to him but you know that this question isn’t from your mind, but it came from your heart. The heart that eager to know the status of Mina in his heart. So what you do now is waiting for an answer from him.

“I had to.”

A tear escapes from your eyes, flowing down to your cheeks as soon you heard the awaiting answer.

“Hello?” The voices unison calling for the residents of the house from the main gate. There, Jeon’s family waiting for a permission from the owner to enter the front yard.

Your smile grows bigger as you see the family already arrived and you give a hand gesture for them to enter. As soon as they enter, your parent seems so happy seeing them as they embrace each other in a hug.

It’s been a while since your family and his family gathered like this. Tonight, your mother suggests having a small party of celebration to welcome your sister’s return from States as well as yours. As your mother doesn’t want this celebration to be slightly gloomy so she invited Mrs Jeon and her family to celebrate together.

You paint a smile on your lips as you observing each one of them. Mrs Jeon who already start to chat with your mother, Mr Jeon standing by your father with a walking stick, Junghyun who just arrives here and Jungkook who is nowhere to be seen. You look around, to find the familiar figure but fail.

“Where’s Jungkook?” You blurt out as everyone turn their head towards you, simultaneously. Confusion and shock that clearly shown on their face are enough to describe the question that lingering on their head.

You chuckle before informing them about you and Jungkook. “We are already in good terms.”

They hum in response before Junghyun took a chance, to tell the truth.

“We thought it was the best for him not to be here but it seems not at this moment.” You throw a reassuring smile before walk out from the yard to search for him.

Both of you and his parents gazing at you lovingly as they shed their tears in disbelief of you finally rekindle your relationship with Jungkook. Something that they wished for a long time.

The moment you step out from the yard, you catch a glance of a familiar figure, leaning against a car while staring at the sky. The moonlight shone on his face and he looks like an angel in disguise.

He is so beautiful and the sight of him makes your heart to tremble in the ribcage as the feeling of love pouring out from your heart. You can give him whatever to be wear for him to look nice yet him being himself was enough for you to keep loving him.

“How far have you reach? Is it States?” Hearing your voice at sudden making him swing his head around to face you, who already took a seat next to him.

A breathily laugh leave his lips whilst he diverting his stare and his action is enough to make your heart thudding in excitement. But you manage to hide your feelings with the blank expression on your face.

“Why not you come in?” You purposely ask him something that you already know the answer. But you really want to hear his voice, breaking the silence of the night.

He sighs before responding to you. “My mom won’t allowed me to do so-“ He trailed off while running his finger along his fluffy and smooth hair.

“-because she does not want to start a chaos due to my presence there.” He answers with the disappointed tone hidden in his sentence while glueing his eyes on his feet

“Until now, you still the same Jungkook that won’t say no to his mother. This trait of yours makes me admire you despite your ignorant behaviour.” He misinterpreted your compliments as he looks at you while raising his eyebrow questioningly.

When you notice his expression, you stifle a laugh and correct your hanging sentence. “Back then.”

Then, a laugh erupts from him follows yours before suddenly silence engulfing both of you.

“Mina is so lucky to get you as her fiancée.” You conclude the conversation since you have nothing to initiate another conversation. Only the silence of the night response to your statement.

“It’s kind of arranged marriage actually.” Jungkook fidgeting his fingers after a few seconds of silence lingering both of you.

“But the feelings are mutual.” You simply state.

“But-” You cut off his words without giving chance to confirm or deny your statement.

“Jungkook, can you just once do what you want to do instead of doing what others want you to.” You giving him an advice as you stare at the sky, enjoying the night view of the sky, the shimmery star lightens up and decorating the dull sky.

The scenery reminisces you to your past; your almost-happened wedding. Then, you tilt your head to have a full view of him before continues your words.

“You should tell your mom about your disagreement of our arranged marriage back then rather than asking for me who don’t have guts to deny my parent’s request.”

“No.” Jungkook cuts off and makes you slightly startle and quickly look at him.

“Why?” Your reply in curiosity.

“Because living with you seems nice and maybe we might become the best friend or even have kids now.” He throws you a genuine smile. A smile that assures you a brighter future ahead if the wedding doesn’t cancel.

As the day passes, you and Jungkook getting closer. When the office time is over, both of you will have a meal together. Sometimes, you will hang out with him once in a week, whether having a coffee in a café or strolling in the park around Seoul. But most of the time you will return to your parent’s home with him, spending time together with your and his family and sometimes alone with him.

You can’t deny the fact this day, you become more cheerful compared to before as his presence stays around you. He always brightens up your gloomy day, sharing opinions regarding works, lending his ears to hear your problem and sometimes finding a way to solve it. This moment happens in such a short time yet it would be the best memories of being with him that you ever felt.

You almost unaware of how fast the time flies and till now, the last day for both of you to work on the proposal together before the project finally being launch. So that, Jungkook suggests to have a dinner together for the last time and based on his suggestion, both of you will have a dinner in your favourite place, a seafood restaurant.

After two hours of eating and chatting with each other, both of you finally on your way back home.

“I’m so full. Thanks for the treat, bud.” You express your gratitude through your actions by patting his back for several times. He replies to you with a forceful smile and from that, you know there’s something wrong with him.

Since both of you left the restaurant, he seems in his own world, keep himself in silence despite him being the lousy one in the restaurant. You stop your track and spare a glance at him who seems faking rays of happiness on his face.

“Are you okay?” You simply ask.

A sigh escapes from him as he wistfully closes his eyes before gathering his strength to speak out. “I’m sad because it will be the last day of us working together because I don’t know whether after-“

You quickly dismiss his sentence as you don’t want him to stay thinking like that. “No. We will still meet each other at our parents’ house. Don’t worry cause I’m going back home every week.”

You wink before start to walk back. “After all, there’s no difference if I’m not by your side. Well, I’m just a friend. Not like Mina.” You mentally slap yourself for blurting out her name because now you seem like a girl who is jealous of his crush’s girlfriend and it seems like too much. So you pretending like you never say out her name and you quickly fasten your step.

Yet, your voice is loud enough for him to clearly hear the full sentence and when he clears his throat to speak, you know that he heard it.

“But it’s different. The feelings are different between you and Mina.” He adds and that makes you be interested in initiating this topic for a deeper conversation.

“What’s the difference? You love Mina and she is too.”

Silence follows after your words as if he tries to find the right word to reply to you. In another hand, his silence makes you slightly frustrated because you do want to hear his response as soon as possible.

He scoffs, before responding to you. “I thought so but I was completely wrong until that day.” He lifts up his face, staring into your eyes while conveying his feelings not only using words but also through his eyes.

“When the feelings that I have been denying for a long time finally reveal itself and since that day, I know I always love her after all these days. I never thought someone that I hated so much would become someone that I’m really afraid to lose. But when she’s gone, it felt like I lost my world. I lost the source of my life, someone that keeps me alive”

The rays of hopes radiate from his eyes as if he wants to show you something. You act like nothing and don’t even know who the hell he is talking about even though silently hope that it was you. Yet, you don’t want to have a false hope on that. Hoping for uncertain things is more hurtful and it’s better for you to pretend.

“Why don’t you tell her about your feelings? Who knows she will accept it?” You suggest pretending that you are uninterested in this topic as you keep tossing your feet on the ground, brushing the sand along the way.

He chuckled, “She won’t. I have hurt her and put her life in vain. She won’t even listen to me but I’m glad that at least she finally agreed to have a good term.”

You stun over his words. All of it leads to you. Every single thing that he said somehow seems relates to you but you don’t want to be eager over words so you decide to cut off this topic.

“So it’s already late at night and I need to go now. Thank you for all of these time. I’m sorry if I ever hurt you with my words or action during these time. Once again, I’m really looking forward to the next project to collaborate with you. Goodbye for now.”

You step away as soon as you utter those words without giving him a chance to speak. Every step that you make feel heavy and glued to the ground as if it doesn’t allow you to go. The surrounding air began to suffocate you as you could not find another way to ease the heaviness in your heart.

“It will always be you, from the beginning till now.”

The sentence that comes out from his mouth, makes you stop in tracks and froze at your current position. The stinging feeling began to creep into your heart as it is trembling in a rapid pace inside the ribcage once you hear his confession. It begins to mess with your mind as your mind is battling with your feelings right now; whether you should stay or you act like you hear nothing.

Even your feelings want you to stay yet you action acts opposite. Slowly you walk away from there as tear begin to pool up in your eyes.

Jungkook who see you walking away, heaving a long and deep sigh before curling a smile with a sign of bitterness in it. Maybe all the time of him being with you wasn’t enough to make you come back to him, he thought. So he strides away as he can’t stand of the sorrow that he feels at this moment of time.

“Put aside other things and think about your feelings. Think about what you want.”

Jennie’s words keep replaying on your mind and make you become hesitate. After all this time, your mind controlling you and you keep denying your feelings in order to satisfy your mind’s need.

A lot of scarification that you had made for the past few years and you deserve to receive the rewards. You deserve to be happy and it’s been a long time since you have been waiting for it. Maybe this is the time when God wants to accept your prayers. And now you just need to choose between to walk away or to turn back.

You have made your mind. Your feet stop from walking forwards and you whirl your body around, to see Jungkook already walking further away from you.

Now or never.

The sounds of footstep running along the way and you being the one who did it. You fasten your pace and quickly grasp your fingers around his wrist before turning him around to face you. You gasp for air while staring into his eyes. Jungkook looks quite surprised yet he is more surprises with your unexpected action.

You pull him into a kiss. At first, he was stunned as your lips touch him but after a few seconds, he starts to respond to yours. Their breath is knocked out of both of them with the force that they collide with. Your hand grip the back of his shirt, pulling and holding him close to you. His fingers trail on your cheeks as he cups it pulling you into a deeper kiss. Both of you neglect the surrounding as the world seeming to disappear around them.

A first kiss that you ever had with him and it feels so nice. The world right now seems right and all the heaviness in your chest vanish.

You pull away from the kiss yet still leaning your forehead to him as if you will initiate another kiss again. Taking a deep breath before you muttering a sentence.

“I always love you, Jungkook.”

The quiet environment of the room accompanies you who just wake up from your deep sleep. Your eyes flick to the person lying next to you. Half of his body buries on the bed and only reveal his side profile. You gaze at him lovingly, observing every inch of his face. From his dishevelled hair down to his eyes that is wistfully close. Your eyes travel down from the bridge of his nose to his chapped lip.

Those lips that you really want to kiss once again. You mind pull you back to the scene, unforgettable scene. The kiss that both of you share resulting in you, lying next to Jungkook on your bed. You rub your eyes as you still can’t believe with his presence there.

Something that you had dreamed before and might happened in reality if you get married to him as you can always go through this moment every time you wake up from sleep.

You use this time to observe him from a close proximity. You have never been so close to him as now. And your heart race at the thought of him expresses his love towards your through words and actions last night.

“This is must be a dream.” You mumble to yourself as you began to shake off your head.

“It is too real to be a dream, Y/n.” His deep alluring voice croak, startle you as you quickly diverting your gaze onto him, who is looking at you with a grin plasters on his face.

“It seems like one.” You comment before you let him engulf you into an embrace. He buries his face on your hair, taking a whiff of your scent. He gives you a kiss on your forehead before trail down to your nose and lastly giving a peck on your lip. A smile tugs on your lips as he did that.

“I love you, Y/n. I really do.” He confesses once again and it makes your heart fluttering all over your body. You tighten your embrace and whilst you enjoying that moment, something click on your mind as it makes your eyes to widen as big as it can.

Shit! I’m a homewrecker now.

“Mrs Jeon involved in an accident just now.”

The sudden call from your mother informing you about Mrs Jeon drive you to the hospital which she is being admitted now. After confirming the location of her ward with the nurse downstairs, you quickly find your way to meet your parents who are waiting for you there.

You don’t like sports but today, you have run as if you are competing in a marathon. Your breath hitches as you trying to gasp for air and once you saw the sight of your mother there, you slow the pace.

Your mother seems like crying as her eyes still in bloodshot red and her cheeks stained with tears. You want to greet your mother but before you could do that, a string force pulling you forward and that action make you surprise on the spot. But after you find out, it was Jungkook, you just let him do that.

He buries his face on your shoulder and the vibration from his body indicates that he is crying. His embrace suddenly tightens and you really want to soothe him. Slowly you rub your palms against his back while assuring him with moral support.

As you doing that, your eyes catch a glance at a figure with a stoic expression on her face who is glaring at you. In a sudden, the air around you turn colder than usual and you slowly loosen your embrace and averting your eyes away from her.

Deep in your heart, you feel slightly scared; scared that you would be the one who will admit in this hospital.

Jungkook’s condition is unpredictable. He keeps blaming himself for the things that happen to his mother. You don’t want him to be sad for a long time, you decided to accompany him for a night until his mother is finally in a stable condition.

Mina has to go back home as she has something to be done in urgent and luckily for you because you won’t dare to accompany Jungkook if she’s there.

You wake up from your sleep as the alarm blasting through your ears yet Jungkook still soundly sleeping. So you come off from the bed and decide to make a breakfast for both of you and him before you guys go to visit his mother. Last night, your mother already informed you about Mrs Jeon already passed the critical condition and now she only can get a visitor from family.

As you cooking the fried rice, the continuous beep sounds come from your phone attracting your attention towards it. You wipe your hand before grabbing the phone in the oven.

[ unknown 8:36 a.m ]

-u think u can win over me -stay away from him, bitch! -im pregnant his child rn

The contents of the short message give you a great and long-time impact. Mina is pregnant with his child and you are now trying to separate a child from the father.

An arms snake around your waist, pulling you backwards before nuzzling his nose at the crook of your neck. You love whenever he did this but at this time of moment everything seems wrong and you can’t help from hating yourself.

“What’s wrong babe?” He asks in confusion as you flinch when he touches you.

“This is so wrong, Jungkook.” You stop talking, before whirl around to face him. You release his hug from your waist and stare into his eyes as deeply as you can.

You continue back, “You shouldn’t cheat on Mina and I don’t want to be a home wrecker.”

“I will leave her for you.” He simply said, taking a step forward. You let out a scoff, disbelief over his words. Does he think everything is simple as he said? He can do that but not right not and you don’t want to be the cause of their separation.

“It’s not as easy as you think.” You began to pull off the apron and walking out from the kitchen towards the living room.

“Where are you going, babe?”

“Away from here.” He strides across towards you who already grabbing your bag, ready to leave him, once again. But he manages to grip your wrist, preventing you from stepping away from there.

“No! You can’t leave me, baby. I love you so much. I promise that I will leave-” Before he could even finish his word, you shriek, letting out the truth of why you behaving like that.

“You can’t cause she’s already pregnant your child.” He releases his grip around your wrist as he seems so surprised by your words. The mist begins to form in your eyes.

“Wh-what? I- I do- I don’t know.” He stutters and you take a step forward, grasping his hand firmly as you pull him towards you.

“I love you too but fate isn’t with us and we are not destiny to be together. Go to her.” You state, hoping that for once he would accept this kind of fate.

His eyes watery, looking into your with the rays of hope. “You are my source of happiness. I can’t live without my sun, my moon, my everything, Y/n.”

He pleads as he tightens his grasp. “Please, don’t go.”

You prevent yourself from crying but biting your inner cheeks firmly. Slowly you let go of your grasp around his hand before walk out from the house

“I’m sorry but I can’t let an innocent child lost his father because of my selfishness.” You finish your words, take a last glance of him. A scene that you will remember forever,

Once you push the doorknob to close the door, the high-pitch and loud sound of screaming can be heard from the inside. You who still standing outside, covering your mouth so you’re your cries won’t be heard by him.

As usual, fate isn’t on your side.

After a few days since that incident, the news of Mina’s pregnancy had spread among your family and his. You keep avoiding from meeting with him. You lessen your visit to your parent’s house and sometimes go back whenever he isn’t there. You have blocked his number and urges Jennie from giving him your new number. He keeps coming to your office and your house but you act like you aren’t there.

His pleads that you keep hearing from the outside of your house, sometimes when he’s drunk and sometimes when he’s completely sober. It’s so disheartening for you to see him like that but you can’t do anything else.

But as a week passes, he stops from behaving like that and it makes you wonder of his sudden absence. Your confusion is finally being answered as you open up your mailbox to receive a piece of a wedding invitation.

And Jeon Jungkook and Mina’s name clearly stated on the card.

Nothing is more painful than witnessing your long-time love marrying someone else which is not you. You plaster a smile, a forceful one. You pretend like you doesn’t care about it as you could be happy for him after receiving the news. But, you can’t fool your own heart. When you notice the invitation card is attached to a piece of an envelope and your eyes catch the words written on it.

To you- the only person I will ever love

You open up the envelope before taking out a letter inside it. You straightly recognise his handwriting as soon your eyes lay on the letter. Tears fell down your cheeks after reading the first sentence of the letter.

Dear Y/n. You are my treasure- the most precious thing in my life.

◇ author notes : two more chapter left and i can’t wait to write the final ~! a a major editing will be done once this series is over. anyways, thank for reading and for the feedback. lots of love, liz xoxo

#bts angst #bts scenarios #jungkook angst #jungkook scenarios #btswriters #the boy who left

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