hii-hawaiiu

[hii-hawaiiu]

me staying up till 2-3 am to write fanfiction..

teehee

please remember you are writing fanfiction for fun. please remember you are writing fanfiction for fun. please remember you are writing fanfiction for fun. please remember you are writing fanfiction for fun. please remember you are writing fanfiction for fun. please remember you are writing fanfiction for fun. please remember you are writing fanfiction for fun. please remember you are writing fanfiction for fun

[hii-hawaiiu]

Bored

Pairings: Sirius x Reader

Summary: Sirius Black is so full of himself and Y/N seems to be tired of it.

wc: 965

A/n : posting it at 1 am rn (a girls gotta do what she gotta do) angst?? kinda?? idk its more like arguments and all nevertheless i hope you all enjoy!! don’t be shy to leave some likes/comments/reblogs or all three idm

Why don't we

Call it for what it is?

Can't remember the last time we kissed

And it tickled my heart

I think that it's best that we spend time apart

I just yawn

Listening to you

Talk about yourself again

And again

“And then, I managed to close that major deal with the goblins,” he said with a smirk. “I don't know why everyone thought it was impossible, but I did it, of course! no one could refuse someone as charming as me.”

Sirius sat in his chair, leaning back with a pompous air surrounding him. He was recounting yet again his latest achievements to Y/N, his tone laced with arrogance as he boasted about himself again and again.

Y/N let out a yawn struggling to keep a neutral expression, her patience wearing thin with each word that came out of his mouth.

Y/N sat in silence as Sirius droned on about himself, feeling a familiar sense of boredom wash over her.

She couldn't take it any longer. "I'm bored siri," she blurted out, her voice betraying her feigned interest.

Sirius looked at her, a baffled expression on his face. "What do you mean, you're bored?" he asked, clearly annoyed that she had interrupted his monologue.

Y/N sighed. "I mean, I'm bored of this. Of always listening to you talk about yourself, and never once asking me anything about myself."

Sirius scowled, clearly offended by her remark. "Well, excuse me for trying to share my life with you," he said sarcastically.

Y/N rolled her eyes. "It's not about sharing your life, it's about listening to mine as well. This conversation is always one-sided, with you doing all the talking," she explained, her frustration growing.

Sirius huffed, clearly not used to receiving criticism. "So what exactly do you want me to say then?" he snapped back.

Y/N felt the anger bubbling up inside her. "Maybe try asking me how my day went or what I did, instead of just talking about yourself over and over again," she suggested through gritted teeth.

Sirius rolled his eyes, clearly not appreciating her feedback. "You're being ridiculous," he retorted. "I talk about my life because it's important, and you're supposed to be interested in it."

Y/N's patience had reached its limit. "And what about me? Doesn't my life matter too?" she shot back, her voice rising.

You followed me out and said, "Darling, don't leave"

Your passionate monologue woke up the street

"I'll marry you someday, you're perfect for me"

I got in my car just to drown out your plea

Y/N stood up abruptly, the sound of her chair scraping against the floor echoed through the room. She had had enough of Sirius' self-centeredness and knew that she couldn't bear to sit through another minute of his boastful chatter.

“oh come on! Y/N! Darling, you know I don't mean it that way!” He yelled/exclaimed as soon as she stood up waving an arm in the air as if to express his sorry.

“Look, I'm sorry darling, I love you, you know that right?” He voiced out his concern, outstretching his hand as if he's begging her to stay, “I’m sorry, love, please,” his voice began to shake.

She stormed out of his flat, slamming the door behind her. She couldn't believe how far their relationship had deteriorated, how he’s so self possessed. How he was so charming at first but now just the thought of him makes her depressed.

He followed her out and said, "Darling, don't leave," his passionate monologue woke up the street “I’ll marry you someday, you’re perfect for me”

She quickened her pace, feeling irritated at his attempts to win her back with empty promises and sweet nothings. She got into her car just to drown at his plea.

As Y/N sat in her car, engine running, she could make out Sirius' voice through the closed windows. He continued to speak, his words barely audible over the sound of the engine.

"Y/N, please listen to me!" he shouted, banging on the passenger window. "I know I've messed up, but please, please don't leave."

Y/N refused to look at him, keeping her gaze fixed straight ahead. She gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles turning white with the force of her grip.

Sirius continued to talk, his words blurring together in a jumble of pleading and desperation. "I promise to change, Y/N. I'll listen to you more, I'll value your thoughts and feelings. Just please, don't go."

“I can’t do this anymore, Sirius” Y/N's words echoed in Sirius' ears, silencing his pleas. He stood outside the car, his shoulders slumped in defeat, as he absorbed the weight of her statement.

"You can't do this anymore? With me?" he repeated incredulously, trying to comprehend her meaning.

“yes, we’re done Sirius, I’m done”

As Y/N drove away from Sirius, her mind and heart were in turmoil. Every mile she put between them felt like a weight lifting off her shoulders, but at the same time, it felt like a dagger lodged in her heart.

Once she reached her own apartment, she parked the car and buried her head in her hands. The tears she had been holding back since the night before came streaming down her face, and she couldn't stop the sobs that racked her body.

With her forehead against the steering wheel, she let out a strangled cry, the pain and exhaustion finally taking over.

Cause I'm bored (bored)

Bored of this love, oh, I'm bored (bored)

Bored of this talk, and

Maybe you're just way too vain to be interesting

Baby, keep talkin' but nobody's listening

Don't mean to walk out the door

But, baby, I'm bored, oh

[hii-hawaiiu]

reposting this [again]

Accidents

A/N: uhh this is my first fic so.. i apologize if it's shitty so please bear with me

might make a pt 2 if it goes well

to which jisung's can't skate for dear life's clumsy ass bumped into a girl.

or..

in which the reader hates when accidents happen to her except maybe it's not so bad after all?

Han Jisung x reader

[stat: currently going feral for him]

(you can actually imagine who ever you want since i dont mention han anywhere but i swear he'll eventually come out in pt.2)

Song - Paper rings by Taylor Swift

word count: 1.3k

“SHIT” Cussed out a boy on his way to let his (sorry) ass (not so) gracefully land on the ice. On his way falling he bumped into a speeding girl. She took a few steps back steadying herself.

Rotating facing the boy, daggers thrown against the nape of his head. All the murderous intentions vanished when she faced him, planting his ass on the ice letting his upper body fall on the ice. Clenching his hands moving it up and down as if he’s a little child throwing a tantrum. Chuckling lightly at his little tantrum she reached out her hand. The boy raised his head up, staring at the hand above him. He squinted, making out the face of a girl. the boy huffed in embarrassment and defeat reaching up for her hard.

Scoffing at her he stumbles his way up greeted by a series of snorts and chuckles. “I-it’s not funny!” He stuttered out of embarrassment. Looking down, ears and cheeks clearly red from their encounterment. Pulling on his hair as he screamed hiding his face in his hands facing up to see her, eyes shift everywhere except her eyes. Grinning at him widely “come on… it’s pretty funny” stomach hurting from hurling out of laughter cheeks hurting from smiling too long. 

Nevertheless, Jihyo [could only think of mother [stream killin’ me good]] saw that unexplainable and rare scenery of her younger sister talking to a person; a guy to be exact talking as if they’ve known each other for decades. She smiles to herself taking a picture of them together for err memories her friend came to her with a questioning glance she tilts her head towards them smiling at her friend.

“First time?” asked the girl after practically begging him to stop hiding his face and when he didn’t want to, she wrestled his arms, prying them away. Him; a complete stranger. “That obvious?” he blurted out with his dignity finally looking into her dark cold eyes lingering. It took him a moment to come back to his senses, clearing his throat as he settled his eyes on the icy floor.

She tilts her head sideways forming a small and light smile she brings her right arm in front of her chest shaking it sideways as a symbol of 50/50 as she scrunches her nose. The girl noticed a school of teenagers her age looking and pointing at them while whispering. “Your friends?” she pointed out straightening her back making her look extra taller than he is. “Yea actually, they dragged me here.” he chuckled out looking back at the memory. 

See, the boy has never liked the ice. His friends had always talked about it, but he always managed to chicken out. Nonetheless, this time his friends had a plan to drag him into the skating rink. Literally. Changbin eyed Chan urging him to take the upper half while he took his lower. Chan grabbed both his arms while Changbin grabbed his legs carrying him effortlessly as if he's some ragdoll. Stumbling on his shoes he cried out a pathetic help to the people in the mall (no one stopped to make sure he’s ok.)

“Want me to help you?” she offered softly, her voice sounds like music in his ears is what I would say if it were true which isn’t. She offered him in a low awkward voice twirling to show off her [basic] skating skills. She reached out her hand hoping he would take her offer. He stared at her hand not knowing what to do. So he ran. Well he wobbly skates away like a newborn penguin from her back to his friends. Scooting against the railing slowly even a snail on ice is way faster than he is. She sighed looking at the now empty space in front of her. She leaned her back onto the railing regretting what she did ‘well, that went well.’  She thought to herself having an internal pity party over someone she doesn’t know. And a guy for that matter could've been a girl could’ve been a cat but a boy? That was the last thing she would have ever expected. 

A boy bumped into her just as she was about to skate away, not just any boy that’s right it’s him. “Hey! Where are you going?” the boy rushed up onto his feet quickly holding her hand. “Come on! What are you waiting for? I don’t want to spend another second knowing that i’m gonna fall on my ass every time I take a step.” he took a slow and careful step forward repeating what she did before; holding his hand out for her to take which leaves the poor girl confused he just left her for his friends and now he came back? That question wrecked her brain. Nevertheless, she still took his hand.

The rest of the afternoon went on as a blur of laughter, jokes, silly questions and mostly falls. She took [more than] a couple of photos as a keepsake ignoring all his complaints. She felt happier and more alive than she had ever been in a long time. Losing track of time they both didn’t realize that the amazing time they had had come to an end rushing out of the rink and into the mall she had realized that she had known nothing about him, not even his name. She went back to the rink telling her sister she left something she ran as fast as her legs could take her. She was too late. He's gone. Nowhere to be found. She went out of the rink sulking when she saw her older sister waiting for her “got what you need?” Jihyo asked her clearly out of breath complaining how tired she is from running across the mall just to make sure she’s okay. That is what yn said when in reality she took all the time in the world and she even slowed her walking pace. Her little sister nodded clearly disappointed and tired [cause she RAN there to catch a BOY -that mind you- she knew nothing of].

[hii-hawaiiu]

Date?

Marlene McKinnon x Reader

Summary : You’ve been infuriated with Marlene for some time now and Professor Mcgonagall just happened to pair the both of you up.

Warnings : none!

WC: 1.7k

a/n : this story is based on a dream i had about someone.. hope yall like it!!

‘god,’ Y/N thought as she stared admired marlene. oh marlene even her name sounds pretty with her lion-like golden blonde hair, freckled olive skin, ocean blue eyes and her pretty smile that could brighten up any room she goes to.

Just then, Marlene narrows her eyes into a crescent shape smiling ear to ear at what her friend had just said “so beautiful’ Y/N mused with her chin on her hands looking like an awe-struck kid who had just seen princesses for the first time ever.

“Who's so beautiful?” Her friend’s voice snapped her out of her daydream face turning red when she realized that she had accidentally said it out loud.

she looked around then frantically searching for something, anything, when her eyes caught another pair “You, Reg! you’re so beautiful! Have I ever told you that?” Exclaimed Y/N quickly hoping her friend would believe her or at least not noticing her err— appreciation.

“No. you’re fucking with me, you were looking over there,” the slytherin boy pointed to where marlene and her friends are sitting, with the marauders coincidentally sitting close by.

Regulus’ eyes widened “NO!” He let out a loud gasp “Don't tell me you were staring at my brother?!” He pulled on her collar forcing her to face him cupping her mouthful cheeks causing her to choke on her food. She slapped him away bringing her hand up and started pounding her chest, coughing brutally, Regulus hands her a drink to keep the food down.

“i was not staring at him!” She cried out after chugging whatever liquid regulus had gave her, still breathless after her coughing fit looking at him dead in the eyes “I was just- simply admiring as some would say” —it's not like she was lying, she was not staring at him she was staring at marlene, wait, no, scratch that, she was admiring marlene.—

Regulus eyes her still clearly not believing in any of her bullshit she smacks the back of his head causing him to let out a yelp before brushing her away letting the conversation go.

***

“Oi L/N!” Someone whistled, rolling her eyes as she made her way to her seat, setting her bag down as the voice continued.

“A little birdie told me you were checking me out..” He trails off “is that true? y’know there's no need to be ashamed” His friends giggling like little girls at his statement.

She clicked her tongue letting out a sigh, the one time she went to class early and she had to deal with this?

She turned around to the origin of the voice looking at him up and down “oh i was totally checking you out!” She clapped her hands together, looking up at him through her lashes with a sickeningly sweet smile on her lips batting her eyes seductively bringing her right hand up to twirl her hair.

“Is that what you wanted me to say, Black?” She watched as his face changed, a scoff falling off his lips. Little did she know there was another pair of eyes watching their interaction with an amusing smirk drawn on her face.

As Sirius' expression fell, a sharp snicker cut through the air, drawing attention to a figure in the distance. Marlene was leaning against the wall, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous twinkle. Her body seemed to be gently shaking, struggling to contain her laughter.

Marlene pushed herself off the wall, gracefully making her way towards them. "Well, well, it seems like my dear friend here just couldn't resist your effortless charm, Sirius,"

She teased, her voice dripping with sarcasm. The corners of her lips curled upward, her lips on the verge of breaking out into a full-blown grin.

“Good job Y/N, you really put him in his place, we really ought to be friends” Marlene's arm wrapped tightly around Y/N's shoulder, drawing her into a warm side hug.

The proximity caused a flutter in Y/N's chest, her heart racing with anticipation, not only from being so close to the charismatic blonde but also from the realization that she had made an impressive dent in Sirius' ego.

“Thanks!” Y/N grinned, her cheeks tinged pink from Marlene's praise.

The other girl's infectious enthusiasm and genuine affection were intoxicating, and Y/N found herself leaning into the embrace. It was refreshing to be around someone who encouraged her to push the limits, someone who didn't hesitate to knock an ego like Sirius' down a peg.

Pushing her feelings aside, Y/N couldn't help but return a smirk, her gaze flickering between Sirius and Marlene. "Oh, I'm sure we'd make a terrific duo," she chuckled, a playful lilt to her voice.

Sirius rolled his eyes, his annoyance evident, but there was a hint of amusement in his expression. "You two are unbearable," he muttered.

“Aw, Sirius, you're just jealous that we have each other's charming company,” Marlene retorted, sending a playful wink towards Y/N as she tightened her hold on her shoulder. The smirk on her lips seemed to grow wider, her eyes gleaming with delight.

Y/N stifled a giggle, finding immense pleasure in the exchange. She glanced over at Sirius, meeting his gaze with a raised eyebrow. “You're just upset that I wasn't as easily impressed by your arrogant banter.”

Sirius let out a scoff, his features contorted into an exaggerated pout. “Arrogant banter? I prefer to call it eloquent wit.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, the action more affectionate than dismissive. “Of course you do,” she retorted, her tone dry with feigned annoyance.

“Well, Marlene and I have more interesting things to discuss than your inflated ego,” she remarked, subtly shifting away from Sirius and closer to Marlene.

Marlene snickered at Y/N’s remark, clearly enjoying the banter shared between them and Sirius. “That’s right,” she agreed, her voice dripping with mock seriousness. “We’ve got far more riveting topics to discuss.”

Y/N smirked, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, yes. Like the latest fashion trends, relationship gossip, and, of course, our shared disdain for pompous boys with oversized egos.”

“Settle down everyone!” Professor McGonagall entered the room, her stern expression silencing the rowdy students immediately. She announced a new paired assignment, much to everyone's dismay.

“I've taken the liberty of sorting you into partners,” she declared, her gaze sweeping across the classroom.

Y/N groaned silently, dreading the moment her partner would be revealed. To her surprise, she heard Marlene's name being announced alongside her own.

She glanced over at Marlene, who seemed equally shocked by their pairing. A mixture of excitement and trepidation coursed through her veins. This unexpected collaboration could either turn out brilliantly or end in disaster.

Sirius watched as their names were called, a mixture of annoyance and amusement playing across his features. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes flickering between the two girls.

'Oh, this is going to be interesting,' he mused silently.

McGonagall continued listing out names, the students murmuring amongst themselves, clearly not thrilled with the assignments. Once all the pairs had been announced, the class was dismissed, and Y/N found herself walking alongside Marlene towards the library to begin their project.

“Well, this ought to be intriguing,” Marlene remarked, her voice betraying her excitement yet tinted with a hint of wariness. “Working closely with my new favorite person.”

Y/N chuckled, her cheeks tinged pink at the compliment. "Oh, I'm your favorite person now, am I? I feel honored."

As they entered the library, they snagged a secluded table near the back, away from the hustle and bustle of the main study area. Y/N pulled out her notes and textbook, preparing to dive into the assignment.

Marlene took a seat beside her, a smirk tugging at her lips. "I have no doubt we'll make a power duo on this project."

Y/N returned the smirk, her confidence growing with every passing moment in Marlene's company. "Oh, there's no doubt about it. We're going to ace this project and show them all what we're made of."

She glanced at the assignment's title, her mind already racing with ideas. "Alright, what do you say we start brainstorming?"

Marlene nodded eagerly, pushing up the sleeves of her jumper. "Absolutely. Let's do it."

They spent the next hour bouncing ideas off one another, their chemistry evident as they built upon each other's suggestions. They laughed, they argued playfully, and they found themselves getting lost in the conversation.

"This is actually going well," Y/N remarked, a genuine smile on her face. "I guess we do make a good team, after all."

As Marlene glanced up from her notes, a question danced on the tip of her tongue. Their project was progressing smoothly, but her thoughts suddenly shifted, seizing a brief moment of respite.

"Hey, Y/N," Marlene started, a subtle curve of her lips hinting at a playful undertone. Her eyes fixated on Y/N's focused expression, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. "Do you know what the date is?"

Y/N paused, her gaze lifting from the parchment to meet Marlene's eyes. She chuckled, her cheeks slightly flushed with mild embarrassment. "Hmm? Oh, sorry, I was out of it for a bit” she admitted, her gaze flicking back to her notes for a brief second before meeting Marlene's once again. "Can you repeat that, please?"

Marlene smirked teasingly, a sparkle of amusement dancing in her eyes. "the date?," she repeated slowly, emphasizing the words playfully.

Y/N's eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion, her brain struggling to comprehend the meaning behind the question. As the realization slowly dawned on her, a cheeky smile spread across her lips.

"with you?" she responded flirtatiously, her voice dripping with lighthearted tease. "Anytime."

Marlene's smirk widened at Y/N's quick response. She leaned back in her chair, resting her chin on her palm as she studied Y/N's expression.

"Alright then," Marlene replied, her voice betraying a hint of intrigue. "How about tomorrow at 8?"

Y/N's eyes widened at Marlene's unexpected question. She stared at the other girl in disbelief for a moment, mentally processing the question to ensure she had heard it correctly.

"WHAT?" she blurted out, her voice betraying a hint of surprise.

[hii-hawaiiu]

Date?

Marlene McKinnon x Reader

Summary : You’ve been infuriated with Marlene for some time now and Professor Mcgonagall just happened to pair the both of you up.

Warnings : none!

WC: 1.7k

a/n : this story is based on a dream i had about someone.. hope yall like it!!

‘god,’ Y/N thought as she stared admired marlene. oh marlene even her name sounds pretty with her lion-like golden blonde hair, freckled olive skin, ocean blue eyes and her pretty smile that could brighten up any room she goes to.

Just then, Marlene narrows her eyes into a crescent shape smiling ear to ear at what her friend had just said “so beautiful’ Y/N mused with her chin on her hands looking like an awe-struck kid who had just seen princesses for the first time ever.

“Who's so beautiful?” Her friend’s voice snapped her out of her daydream face turning red when she realized that she had accidentally said it out loud.

she looked around then frantically searching for something, anything, when her eyes caught another pair “You, Reg! you’re so beautiful! Have I ever told you that?” Exclaimed Y/N quickly hoping her friend would believe her or at least not noticing her err— appreciation.

“No. you’re fucking with me, you were looking over there,” the slytherin boy pointed to where marlene and her friends are sitting, with the marauders coincidentally sitting close by.

Regulus’ eyes widened “NO!” He let out a loud gasp “Don't tell me you were staring at my brother?!” He pulled on her collar forcing her to face him cupping her mouthful cheeks causing her to choke on her food. She slapped him away bringing her hand up and started pounding her chest, coughing brutally, Regulus hands her a drink to keep the food down.

“i was not staring at him!” She cried out after chugging whatever liquid regulus had gave her, still breathless after her coughing fit looking at him dead in the eyes “I was just- simply admiring as some would say” —it's not like she was lying, she was not staring at him she was staring at marlene, wait, no, scratch that, she was admiring marlene.—

Regulus eyes her still clearly not believing in any of her bullshit she smacks the back of his head causing him to let out a yelp before brushing her away letting the conversation go.

“Oi L/N!” Someone whistled, rolling her eyes as she made her way to her seat, setting her bag down as the voice continued.

“A little birdie told me you were checking me out..” He trails off “is that true? y’know there's no need to be ashamed” His friends giggling like little girls at his statement.

She clicked her tongue letting out a sigh, the one time she went to class early and she had to deal with this?

She turned around to the origin of the voice looking at him up and down “oh i was totally checking you out!” She clapped her hands together, looking up at him through her lashes with a sickeningly sweet smile on her lips batting her eyes seductively bringing her right hand up to twirl her hair.

“Is that what you wanted me to say, Black?” She watched as his face changed, a scoff falling off his lips. Little did she know there was another pair of eyes watching their interaction with an amusing smirk drawn on her face.

As Sirius' expression fell, a sharp snicker cut through the air, drawing attention to a figure in the distance. Marlene was leaning against the wall, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous twinkle. Her body seemed to be gently shaking, struggling to contain her laughter.

Marlene pushed herself off the wall, gracefully making her way towards them. "Well, well, it seems like my dear friend here just couldn't resist your effortless charm, Sirius,"

She teased, her voice dripping with sarcasm. The corners of her lips curled upward, her lips on the verge of breaking out into a full-blown grin.

“Good job Y/N, you really put him in his place, we really ought to be friends” Marlene's arm wrapped tightly around Y/N's shoulder, drawing her into a warm side hug.

The proximity caused a flutter in Y/N's chest, her heart racing with anticipation, not only from being so close to the charismatic blonde but also from the realization that she had made an impressive dent in Sirius' ego.

“Thanks!” Y/N grinned, her cheeks tinged pink from Marlene's praise.

The other girl's infectious enthusiasm and genuine affection were intoxicating, and Y/N found herself leaning into the embrace. It was refreshing to be around someone who encouraged her to push the limits, someone who didn't hesitate to knock an ego like Sirius' down a peg.

Pushing her feelings aside, Y/N couldn't help but return a smirk, her gaze flickering between Sirius and Marlene. "Oh, I'm sure we'd make a terrific duo," she chuckled, a playful lilt to her voice.

Sirius rolled his eyes, his annoyance evident, but there was a hint of amusement in his expression. "You two are unbearable," he muttered.

“Aw, Sirius, you're just jealous that we have each other's charming company,” Marlene retorted, sending a playful wink towards Y/N as she tightened her hold on her shoulder. The smirk on her lips seemed to grow wider, her eyes gleaming with delight.

Y/N stifled a giggle, finding immense pleasure in the exchange. She glanced over at Sirius, meeting his gaze with a raised eyebrow. “You're just upset that I wasn't as easily impressed by your arrogant banter.”

Sirius let out a scoff, his features contorted into an exaggerated pout. “Arrogant banter? I prefer to call it eloquent wit.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, the action more affectionate than dismissive. “Of course you do,” she retorted, her tone dry with feigned annoyance.

“Well, Marlene and I have more interesting things to discuss than your inflated ego,” she remarked, subtly shifting away from Sirius and closer to Marlene.

Marlene snickered at Y/N’s remark, clearly enjoying the banter shared between them and Sirius. “That’s right,” she agreed, her voice dripping with mock seriousness. “We’ve got far more riveting topics to discuss.”

Y/N smirked, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, yes. Like the latest fashion trends, relationship gossip, and, of course, our shared disdain for pompous boys with oversized egos.”

“Settle down everyone!” Professor McGonagall entered the room, her stern expression silencing the rowdy students immediately. She announced a new paired assignment, much to everyone's dismay.

“I've taken the liberty of sorting you into partners,” she declared, her gaze sweeping across the classroom.

Y/N groaned silently, dreading the moment her partner would be revealed. To her surprise, she heard Marlene's name being announced alongside her own.

She glanced over at Marlene, who seemed equally shocked by their pairing. A mixture of excitement and trepidation coursed through her veins. This unexpected collaboration could either turn out brilliantly or end in disaster.

Sirius watched as their names were called, a mixture of annoyance and amusement playing across his features. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes flickering between the two girls.

'Oh, this is going to be interesting,' he mused silently.

McGonagall continued listing out names, the students murmuring amongst themselves, clearly not thrilled with the assignments. Once all the pairs had been announced, the class was dismissed, and Y/N found herself walking alongside Marlene towards the library to begin their project.

“Well, this ought to be intriguing,” Marlene remarked, her voice betraying her excitement yet tinted with a hint of wariness. “Working closely with my new favorite person.”

Y/N chuckled, her cheeks tinged pink at the compliment. "Oh, I'm your favorite person now, am I? I feel honored."

As they entered the library, they snagged a secluded table near the back, away from the hustle and bustle of the main study area. Y/N pulled out her notes and textbook, preparing to dive into the assignment.

Marlene took a seat beside her, a smirk tugging at her lips. "I have no doubt we'll make a power duo on this project."

Y/N returned the smirk, her confidence growing with every passing moment in Marlene's company. "Oh, there's no doubt about it. We're going to ace this project and show them all what we're made of."

She glanced at the assignment's title, her mind already racing with ideas. "Alright, what do you say we start brainstorming?"

Marlene nodded eagerly, pushing up the sleeves of her jumper. "Absolutely. Let's do it."

They spent the next hour bouncing ideas off one another, their chemistry evident as they built upon each other's suggestions. They laughed, they argued playfully, and they found themselves getting lost in the conversation.

"This is actually going well," Y/N remarked, a genuine smile on her face. "I guess we do make a good team, after all."

As Marlene glanced up from her notes, a question danced on the tip of her tongue. Their project was progressing smoothly, but her thoughts suddenly shifted, seizing a brief moment of respite.

"Hey, Y/N," Marlene started, a subtle curve of her lips hinting at a playful undertone. Her eyes fixated on Y/N's focused expression, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. "Do you know what the date is?"

Y/N paused, her gaze lifting from the parchment to meet Marlene's eyes. She chuckled, her cheeks slightly flushed with mild embarrassment. "Hmm? Oh, sorry, I was out of it for a bit” she admitted, her gaze flicking back to her notes for a brief second before meeting Marlene's once again. "Can you repeat that, please?"

Marlene smirked teasingly, a sparkle of amusement dancing in her eyes. "the date?," she repeated slowly, emphasizing the words playfully.

Y/N's eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion, her brain struggling to comprehend the meaning behind the question. As the realization slowly dawned on her, a cheeky smile spread across her lips.

"with you?" she responded flirtatiously, her voice dripping with lighthearted tease. "Anytime."

Marlene's smirk widened at Y/N's quick response. She leaned back in her chair, resting her chin on her palm as she studied Y/N's expression.

"Alright then," Marlene replied, her voice betraying a hint of intrigue. "How about tomorrow at 8?"

Y/N's eyes widened at Marlene's unexpected question. She stared at the other girl in disbelief for a moment, mentally processing the question to ensure she had heard it correctly.

"WHAT?" she blurted out, her voice betraying a hint of surprise.

[hii-hawaiiu]

AH WHY DOES IT HURTSS. IT. HURTS.

You're unbelievable (derogatory) | James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: You're best friends with James, but since his new relationship with Lily, you find yourself standing on the side more often than not.

Your friendship with James breaks when he has to choose between you or Lily, and it's only after the damage is done that he realizes the consequences of his actions.

Note: Lily's kind of a not cool in this fic. Not proofread, mistakes (grammar and maybe continuity because I rewrote the middle from memory) Time lines are wrong, howarts is endless.

_______________________

“James Potter, you’re unbelievable!” You exclaimed, and if not for the widest grin ever plastered on you face, those words could hold an entirely different meaning. You gave James a tight side hug while you clutched your precious gift to your chest.

“Well, you better believe it darling,” Sirius appeared on your left. “Prongs made us stand in line for that signed copy for eight hours. EIGHT HOURS,” he complained and shook James back and forth by his shirt collar.

“And not to mention, he woke us up at 2 o’clock in the morning for that,” Peter happily reminded him, and Sirius wailed at the memory and dramatically dropped to his knees. You stumbled back and James was quick to hold you steadily.

“Oh, quit it with the theatrics,” Remus mused, and he pulled Sirius up from the floor where he had slouched his entire weight against your legs. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Sirius huffed. “For you maybe. Because you secretly wanted to get your book signed too,” he accused Remus. Remus sheepishly shrugged.

James pressed a kiss to your temple, and you melted inside. “Happy birthday, love,” he whispered with a fond smile, and you bashfully looked away.

“Thanks,” you muttered awkwardly. Godric, you despised the attention that birthdays bring along.

“On that note, I’m heading towards the library,” you excused yourself. “But thank you guys so much for getting that book for me, I love you guys so much,” you said and blew them a kiss as you stepped backwards to the door.

“Hold on,” James frowned. “We’re not celebrating?”

“Uh, no I have to work on our Potions assignment.”

“Oh. Well, let me walk you to the library, yeah?” James offered, but you had an inkling feeling that it wasn’t really a question.

You laughed and pulled a face at him. “I can’t stop you anyways, can I? You’re an absolute menace, Potter.”

“I’m just trying to spend the day together.” James wrapped an arm around you and guided you towards the door. 

“You know, the day on which the world has been blessed with your birth. And just as it was always meant to be, might I add, because look at where this led, such a perfectly beautiful day to celebrate.” He winked.

“Today is a wonderful day,” you hummed in agreement. “But you know I was supposed to be born late April, not March. So not really ‘as it was always meant to be’ at all,” you pointed out.

James rolled his eyes. “Uh, yes it was. Otherwise, we would’ve never met at the hospital and become bestest friends.”

“That’s not even correct gramm-”

“Besides, didn’t see you much today,” James unbotherdly continued.

You shook your head in amusement. “Come along then,” you pretended to relent in a joking manner. James was already pulling you along anyway.

You looked back at the rest of the marauders. “You guys also coming?”

You got an unenthusiastic hum from Peter and nothing from Remus, who was too deep in his book to have heard you. You looked at Sirius.

“Darling, I love you, but that’s six flights of stairs,” Sirius laughed, and he settled in on the sofa.

You gasped in fake horror. “So, is that the limit of your love for me?” You sniffed and pretended to wipe away a tear. “I guess-, I guess that’s it then. We’re just not meant to be,” you sighed.

“I know, darling. And I’m sorry. Just know, it’s not you, it’s me,” Sirius solemnly agreed.

You opened your mouth to continue your devastating-sad-ending-love-story when James, who had felt strangely annoyed at Sirius, impatiently grabbed your hand and pulled you out the door.

You enjoyed the feeling of walking hand in hand with James, even though it was short-lived. He let go of your hand as soon as he realized he was still holding it, and you two walked next to each other in a comfortable silence. Again, short-lived.

“I swear, one of these days, Lily might give me a chance. She smiled at me yesterday after supper, you know.” James happily bragged, eyes in a dreamy haze, no doubt imagining Lily.

You peered up at him and quietly admired his blissed look. It may never be directed towards you but seeing him so happy really made you glad and all warm inside.

Not that you’d ever let him know that.

Instead, you snorted at his words, tiptoed, and slung an arm across his broad shoulders. “In your dreams, maybe,” you sassed at him. James wanted to huff at your reply, but at your struggle to reach his other shoulder, he couldn’t help but laugh wholeheartedly, and he wrapped his arms around your shoulder instead.

“You’ve got to stop growing, James,” you protested and ducked out from under his arm.

“Quite the opposite actually, perhaps you should start,” he mocked you and you reached out to shove him but he put a step back out of the way fluently and then smoothly pulled back his shoulder just in time when you tried to shove him again. “So predictable,” he tsked. You opted to stick out your tongue instead.

“So,” James started. You hummed in reply. “Mum’s asking if you’re spending Easter with us again,” he casually mentioned.

“Oh really, Euphemia is asking me huh,” you teased him.

James looked away embarrassedly.

“Hm, not sure,” you shrugged nonchalantly. “Think I’m gonna be sort of preoccupied with my cousins from Ireland,” you looked at him through the corner of your eyes and caught his disappointed expression. A grin grew on your face like that of a Cheshire cat and you nudged him again.

“Oh, come on James, I’m kidding, you know. I’ve literally never not spent Easter with you. Besides, I live right across the street, James. I can literally come over any time, even if my cousins visit.”

“Yeah, but I meant like stay over at my house for the whole holiday,” James pouted. You glanced at him and smiled fondly. “Well, again; I live right across the street. So I guess I can also just go and visit my cousins at my house any time.”

You finally reached the bottom of the staircases and stopped mid-step. “Bloody hell, I forgot my books.”

You shot James a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I just have to go back up real quick, but it won’t be long at all-.”

“I’m right behind you, love.”

“You can’t be serious,” you gaped at him.

James was beaming. Sirius and Remus’ jaws were slacked on the floor and Peter frowned as if he was trying to comprehend James’ statement.

“She agreed to a date!?” Sirius shrieked out. “But-,” Sirius stammered and he let his eyes fall onto you for a split second. It was very quiet for a moment while all of you processed this news.

“Well, I’ll be damned, Prongs,” you grinned up at him. “Not such a far-fetched idea after all.” You smiled encouragingly at him and he shot you a grateful look.

“Congrats,” you nudged him, and that seemed to break the rest of the marauders out of it, all congratulating and offering date ideas.

You zoned out for a moment. A bitter-sweet taste in your mouth. You we’re thrilled for James. You knew how much she meant to him. But that little piece of hope that you had unconsciously clung onto, made the news tough to take.

Regardless, you were just happy to have James in your life. He was your best friend, and you would support him, no matter what. Because you knew he’d do the same for you.

“When’s the date?” you curiously asked.

James scratched his head. “Uh, next week, Friday night.”

“Wait, Friday when you were going to take me to see the blue crescent moon?” you deadpanned.

“I’ll take you to the next one, I promise,” James solemnly swore and he put his hand on his heart.

You huffed in disappointment but quickly turned around to face Remus with a sweet smile. “Remus, my best friend,” you started, and instantly got pulled back by James who wore a pout on his face.

“Wait, it was supposed to be a you and me thing,” he whined while he tugged you back into his side. You stuck your tongue out and ruffled his hair.

“You’re busy, and the next blue moon is going to be a full moon, so we’ll be with Remus,” you pointed out. “And after that, it’ll be another two years until the next.” Then you skipped back over to Remus.

James hummed in thought. He knew you were right. “Fine,” he reluctantly said. “But I’m taking you to watch the passing comet next month,” he bargained.

You stuck out your hand with a laugh. “Deal,” you grinned.

“It’s a promise,” James confirmed.

It became clear to you that you might have overestimated your own importance to James after he and Lily officially started dating.

Your eyes were searching for James, and you decided to confront him when you spotted him.

“James!” You ran to catch up to him. You smiled at Lily with a small wave. “Lily,” you acknowledged her. “Can I borrow him for a moment?” You asked her. She shrugged and waved her hand in a discarding manner, “of course.”

“Hey uh, you didn’t show up yesterday, just checking in?” you asked James in concern when Lily was out of reach.

James mind blanked for a moment. He was racking his brain about ‘yesterday’ and his eyes grew wide when realization hit him. “Bloody hell, I completely forgot!” He exclaimed.

“Yeah,” you laughed, relieved that he was alright and had just forgotten about it.

“Well you didn’t show up in the astronomy tower so I tried looking for you, but I couldn’t find you. I asked Sirius for the map, but can you believe it? He said he’d lost it.”

You chuckled when you recalled his apologetic expression and completely missed the way James shut his eyes and pinched his nose in guilt.

“I’m so sorry,” James said. He pulled you into a hug.

“Eh, don’t worry about it, Sirius joined me to watch the comet pass by. Wasn’t that impressive, but it did look like a falling star so I guess I made a wish, and-”

“Can have him back now?” Lily’s voice came from behind him, and he quickly released you. “Yeah, of course,” you rushed to say, but she had already grabbed him by the arm and led him away.

James looked back at you and mouthed a ‘sorry’ at you. You shook your head dismissively and raised your thumbs up.

It was only during the next missed hangout, two weeks later, that you found out he forgot because he’d been with Lily instead.

Peter had seen you off to find James, and had watched you return three hours later, a sad look on your face.

“Not again,” he’d groaned and slipped up. You couldn’t be angry at James because you realized that he was just putting effort into his new relationship. Peter had hugged you and you two had spent the evening sneaking into the art room to paint each other.

Peter was surprisingly a splendid artist and you had put the painting that he painted of yourself against the wall on the floor next to your bed, and gave Peter the one you painted of him.

“Damn, Peter,” James nodded at the canvas. “You painted that?”

“Huh? Oh,” Peter was getting dressed and pulled his sweater over his head. He looked from the painting to James. “Uh, Y/N did,” he beamed. “It looks good right?”

“You guys painted..?”

“Yeah, cause you didn’t show up again yesterday,” Peter casually mentioned. “You know, she was-“ He didn’t get to finish his sentence, because James had already sprinted out of the room to find you to apologize.

But as usual, James thought it had to be a grand gesture.

Flowers! Lily liked flowers. Girls like flowers, perfect. The idea popped up in his head, and he went to work to cover your entire dorm and bed with flowers.

It seemed like a perfect idea.

Until it evidently wasn’t. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry, it slipped my mind,” James apologized for the thousandth time as he sat by at the side of the hospital bed with the rest of the marauders. They shared a look with each other.

“Well, I bet you’ll never forget about my severe flower allergy ever again now,” you joked in attempt to console him. Your face was swollen and your eyes were bloodshot.

You smiled at James and tried to push back the hurt you felt at the fact that he forgot about something as important as that.

“I’ll make it up to you,” James quickly promised with a grimace.

“Do you get that same sense of déjà vu or is it just me,” Sirius remarked from the other side of the bed.

“No, I get it too,” Peter agreed almost too quickly.

James frowned at his friends for the little jab. They knew he didn’t do it on purpose right? He looked at Remus for support.

“Better be one hell of an idea,” was all he said.

“Oh come on,” you attempted to kick Sirius weakly with your leg but failed because your legs were still half paralyzed.

“Stop giving him such a hard time,” you started. James shot you a relieved look.

“He’s already feeling shit for almost killing me,” you grinned and James groaned and dropped his head on the side of your bed. You moved your arm with some effort and let your fingers stroke through his hair.

“I’ll be the best best-friend there is, starting from right now. I’ve got so many ideas for Easter holiday and it includes your favorite chocolate,” he promised in a muffled voice.

 

Whatever you imagined his ideas for activities during the Easter holiday included, it wasn’t with Lily in the picture. Yet here you were, sitting across of her at the dinner table.

They were both deeply engrossed in each other and you and Fleamont shared a look.

“How’s your year been, sweetheart?” Fleamont asked and he looked at you over his glasses. You smiled at him, relieved.

“It was great so far, I mean, despite being bedridden for two weeks, but the guys have been great,” you jumped to talk about your adventures.

“I went to watch the blue crescent moon with Remus, and the comet with Sirius. And I’ve painted with Peter! I’ve got to say, he’s painted me in a flattering light,” you rambled on passionately.

“Oh, and we’ve started a study group thing together, it’s basically just Remus and I trying to help Sirius and Peter though,” you lightheartedly joked.

“We’ve played some harmless pranks too, like turning every toad into a cat and every cat into a toad, it was utter chaos!” You shared and at his disapproving look and focus on James, you quickly intervened. “Don’t worry, James didn’t do anything, he’s been good,” you joked.

You missed Fleamont’s raised eyebrows.

“I’ve been swimming in the lake with the boys and pranked Remus and Peter with Sirius and pretended to be merpeople, you should’ve heard their screams!”

Your eyes were gleaming at this point as you relived your happiest moments so far. “Well, until Remus cast a spell on Sirius that turned him into a slug of course.”

“So when the four of us went to Hogsmeade…” You continued to ramble on and failed to notice how James’ eyes subconsciously trailed over to you every now and then, listening in on the conversation and realizing his name never fell once.

Lily noticed his divided attention and was unsurprisingly and rather justifiably annoyed at James.

She voiced out her concerns to James that very night during which you had excused yourself and gone home across the street.

You didn’t want to third wheel and Godric forbid should you share a room with Lily.  She hated your guts as it was and you didn’t feel like being smothered in your sleep.

When you had offered to go back home, you had sort of hoped he would say something along the lines of “No, please stay” and instead were met with a “Yeah, that’s probably for the best”.

And now, all he could wish for was chilling on his bed with you next to him while he was being chastised by Lily. His eyes glanced up and he stared at the enchanted bedroom ceiling full of stars, Lily’s voice long gone from his mind.

“Are you even listening to me?” She waved her hand in front of his face and he fought the urge to pull an annoyed face at her.

At his lack of response though, she repeated herself. “I’m your girlfriend. I thought you wanted this?”

James let her words sink in for a moment. She was all he ever wanted. And it was so so different from what he’d imagined it would be like.

Of course, he wasn’t planning on breaking up or anything, he didn’t want to be that douchebag that was only in it for the chase after all. And he hoped somehow that those feelings would return sometime.

She was everything he wanted. He just wished she’d be more interested in his friends, less disapproving of his pranks, or more proud of his achievements at Quidditch.

He would appreciate it if she were just a little bit more patient with him, and shared a little bit of his humour.

He just wanted her to be more open and enthusiastic about their relationship and himself.

He wanted her to be a little more like you-

He reeled back from that revelation. Oh.

Oh no. That would ruin his friendship.

“-and you know what, you can’t have both, James,” Lily continued and he snapped out of his thoughts.

“I can’t be your girlfriend if she’s in the picture. So choose. It’s me or her.”

James stared at her in surprise and then walked out of his room without another word to her.

He looked out the window at the real starry night sky. It seemed to him that he’d lose you regardless. But maybe, he’d be happy with Lily. She was all that matters, he convinced himself.

“Don’t you see how wrong it is that she’s making you choose,” you asked him incredulously, but your eyes looked at him pleadingly. James forced himself to look back at you and shook his head.

“No, she’s-, she’s right,” he mumbled, and you staggered back at that. “I mean, you’re a girl, you know?” You raised your eyebrows in an unimpressed manner. “Astute observation.” You dryly remarked.

“And everyone assumes things about us, so please, you have to understand that this isn’t fun for Lily either,” James tried. “I just can’t be friends with you and be in a relationship with Lily at the same time.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off.

“I can’t,” he urged. “And between you or her, I choose her. She’s my girlfriend,” he reasoned.

“And I’m your best friend since we were born,” you stubbornly retorted.

James looked at you beggingly, hoping that you’ll understand his predicament and that you’d make it easy on him. At the squint of your eyes and the deepening frown on your face, he gulped. “Please. I’m really sorry, but I have to choose her,” he finished weakly, doubling down on his decision.

Realizing that he wasn’t joking, it felt like he might as well have punched you in the gut. Your stubborn look flickered to hurt and then morphed into an ice-cold front of indifference.

You took a deep breath and collected yourself. You stared at him up and down, not recognizing your best friend in him anymore.

“You’re unbelievable,” you shook your head at him, and your voice was devoid of any emotion. With no other words to address the situation, you pushed past him roughly.

Months passed by and the summer vacation started. Then it ended and Hogwarts began again. All without a word from James. He had stopped spending much time with the marauders, mostly busy with walking after Lily.

Sometimes he would glance at you when she wasn’t watching, and he’d feel so lonely.

He waited for you during the vacation, but you never went to yourr house across his. Instead you spent your time with your cousins in Ireland.

When he made his way towards the platform on September 1st,  he felt weird. First of all, he was slightly reluctant to go. He realized that he had thoroughly enjoyed his holiday without Lily.

But secondly, and perhaps most importantly; This was the first time ever that he went to the Hogwarts Express by himself, without you by his side, and an epiphany cleared his mind. Everything was so wrong.

 

You eyed him up and down. With lack of better words, he looked terrible. So terrible, that you might’ve pitied him any other time, because how could you ever be angry at James, when he looked so sad.

When his eyes are glassy and red. When his hair is disheveled as a result of an undoubtedly rough night. When his voice cracked at his sloppy apology. Or when his lips trembled almost unnoticeably when you said no.

But all of that wouldn’t magically clear away your own misery of the past months.

“I was supposed to be your best friend,” you enunciated slowly. “It’s always been you and me. Merlin, we’ve known each other since we were born and they ran out of baby cribs at St. Mungo’s, so they put us together in one!” you exclaimed.

You bitterly scoffed to yourself at the reminder of your literal lifelong friendship.

“But you cut me off for a relationship with Lily? Lily who rejected you for years and when she finally did agree to date you, never even gave you the time of the day?”

You stared at him incredulously and had to remind yourself to tone down your voice a little. You had unconsciously been raising it and didn’t want to attract unwanted attention.

“You followed her around like a lost puppy and cast me aside because she didn’t trust you for being friends with a girl and you were so easy to discard me,” you laughed humorlessly, trying to mask your hurt feelings. “I guess I must’ve really not meant all that much to you.”

To James’ credit, he at least had the decency of looking remorseful. His own words were replaying on a loop in his head. Of course he regretted it all.

“You can’t come back after that and expect me to just open my arms for you,” you firmly stated.

James looked at you helplessly, and you let out another laugh in disbelief. “Oh, Godric, you did,” you stared at him with wide eyes in surprise.

James could feel himself getting flustered and spoke up again. “I just thought that maybe-,”

“No, no, no. Like I said, I’m not doing this again.”

“Please, lov-, Y/N please, if you would just let me prove to you that you do mean so much to me,” His voice was getting increasingly more desperate. “I just want-, I need you to give me a second chanc-”

“A second chance? James, you are way past that. You’ve already had a second chance,” you bitterly told him. “Merlin, I’ve given you a second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth chance. I would’ve given you a thousand chances, but even that, you threw away.”

You tiredly rubbed your face. “I have nothing left to give you.”

Your words hit him in the face and his chest tightened.

“Oh… No, I-, I definitely understand.” His voice came out quietly.

James wanted to hide away. He felt utterly pathetic and ashamed at his own actions.

“I’ll uh, I’ll leave you alone, then.” He turned around but stopped mid step.

“But Y/N? If you ever change your mind, or if you ever need me, I’ll be there for you this time. Always right behind you.” James let his eyes linger on your face for a moment, taking you in. Merlin, he really missed you.

Your mind struggled to find the words to properly articulate all that you’ve felt these past months.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too. For not trying to fight for you more,” you sympathetically offered.

“Oh, what? No, that’s-, it really was all my own fault. I chose her over you, and it was stupid. I was stupid, not you.”

“I don’t know. I feel like I should’ve tried harder to find a solution. I regret it too, you know, that we lost us.”

James frowned at your words.

“You-, I don’t even-,” you sighed. “I thought we would be in it for life, you know,” you eventually confessed, and James eyes widened. He wasn’t sure if he understood that completely, but his heart had made a small jump at your confession. Surely you didn’t actually mean…?

“Maybe not side by side as lovers or anything,” you quickly tried to cover yourself, but instead confirmed James’ thoughts. “But I was so sure we’d be partners nonetheless.” James watched you smile fondly, but sadly at the thought.

“I tried so hard not to be jealous of the fact that I was no longer the first person you’d go to for everything.” You chewed on your lower lip and James forced himself to pry his eyes away from it.

“You could be again,” James whispered to himself. But it was loud enough for you to hear it. You chose to ignore it and the way your heart tugged.

“But it was never an issue of jealousy when you actively forgot me on so many different occasions and then just kicked me out for her.”

“I'm sorry, I don’t know why I… how I even…”

“Look, I have to go,” you settled on, and nodded awkwardly at him. “But thanks for apologizing,” you added before you left.

You’d gone about your life according to the same routine of the past few months and paid James little to no mind. Though he was spending all of his time with the marauders again, you somehow found a way of disappearing right when he would arrive.

Days passed and James watched you laugh at the punchline of the joke that a ghost had told you. So close and yet so far.

James knew that you told him no when he had asked if things could go back to the way they were, but he couldn’t give up on you. It was as if something was physically stopping him from doing so.

He wanted you to see him again, but would never cross your boundaries, which left him in a difficult position.

The first opportunity presented itself when he overheard some guy talk shit about you. Except he only saw red instead of an opportunity. Because how dare they.

“She’ll give in someday. I’ll show her how to have a good time. Godric knows she’s too prudish, wouldn’t even let me-“

James surged forward before he could even think and grabbed the guy by the collar, his wand was pointed at the boy’s throat in a matter of seconds, a piercing glare on his face as he gritted through his teeth.

“Don’t.” It was a warning and the boy heeded it and scrambled away when James released him.

“What are you looking at,” he called out to the students that had stopped to watch what was happening. They too, quickly scrambled away, pretending they hadn’t seen a thing.

But by supper, everyone had heard about it, including you. You looked at him from further down the table and nodded at him with a appreciated smile.

James heart skipped a beat and he dreamed of you that night.

So what else could he do for you that would make you happy, he wondered while he wandered around the castle. The marauders were hanging out with you right now, leaving James to his own devices.

“Books!” He yelled out loud and it startled a cat. “Signed books had been successful, right? But what books, and how to…” He muttered to himself.

You stared at the pile of books that started to form next to you while owls flew in and back out again, only to return with more books. When you opened the one on the pile to your left, you saw that it was signed by one of your favorite authors.

Your eyes grew wide and you quickly inspected the signature from up close. Your hands stroked the beautiful hard back cover of the book. First copy.

People all over the great hall were looking at the spectacle  but you just laughed and blew a kiss at the last owl.

You glanced at James because you knew it was him who orchestrated all of this. Only he would know all your favorite authors and books.

James simply offered you a smile and continued eating his food, but he was absolutely beaming inside at the gleeful look on your face.

You visited him in his dorms that night. “James,” you whispered. You held your finger to your lips as a sign not to wake the others.

“James, thank you for the books, they’re amazing,” you told him. “But James, you’ve got to stop. Don’t fight on my behalf. Don’t spend so much money on me. Please “ you begged him.

James’ smile fell. “I made you uncomfortable,“ he noted. You sighed and sat down on his bed. “I used to give you gifts all the time,” he weakly defended himself.

“I don’t want to forgive you,” you started. James looked down.

“You hurt me. Do you get that? You hurt me and broke our friendship and I don’t know when I’ll want to be friends again, but it’ll never the same when I do. So you have to stop doing all of this. You can’t try to buy it with gifts and heroic deeds.”

“I don’t want it to be the same either,” James sighed out in a defeated tone. “I just need you with me. One way or another. I’m not trying to buy anything, I just want to make you happy.”

You understood his words and the implied confession behind them. After all, you had felt the exact same way months ago.

You sadly smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek. James closed his eyes at the contact and tried to savor the moment. You really were his greatest regret.

“I don’t want to forgive you,” you stubbornly repeated.

“You don’t have to. I just want to be there.”

“Right behind me, right? No matter what pace?”

“Of course,” he replied.

It took time. Months and months actually, where he respected your boundaries and slowly inserted himself back into your life, with your permission of course.

At first simply joining you with the marauders again. Then thoughtful actions such as giving you his spare quill. Later on even sitting next to you during Transfiguration and building up to study nights and eventually back to star gazing.

However slow it was, everything was worth it, James thought to himself as he opened the door to invite you in for the Easter holiday.

“Hi, thank you for coming over,” he widely smiled.

“Ah you know, I live right across the street, love.”

 

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[hii-hawaiiu]

wish it on your worst enemy

A/N: if you see me butchering british slang 🤨 it never happened 🤫

Pairings: George Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your worst nighmare takes a nasty spill during a scrimmage because he was distracted by you. It’s only right you go and check on him. 1.9k words

Warnings: violence by bludger, description of injury, cursing, lovesick losers, enemies to lovers???? ‘enemies’ to lovers but really idiots to lovers

George taking a bludger to the face was not the kind of news you would have liked to wake up to. Something had gone wrong during an emergency weekend scrimmage. He was laughing at something Fred said or shouting at Ron or maybe he was just distracted by his own thoughts and hadn't noticed the pesky bugger barreling towards him with every intent to bludgeon him unconscious. So he took a nasty spill from a considerable height and has been passed out in the hospital wing since six forty-five.

You rush down the hallway in your pajamas, cursing under your breath, face scrunched into a scowl, dead set on your target. Bloody quidditch. A few first years watched you nearly trample a group of girls in the hall. They were traumatized. It was bad.

"He's gone daft! This is absolutely mental—nothing is that distracting!" you shout at Ron who is actively trying to defend himself against you. He stopped you at the door because he heard you storming down the hall a full minute before you arrived.

"Calm down! He’s still alive isn't he?" he says.

"Not for long if I have anything to say about it—"

"Oi," Fred shouts, lounging in a rickety chair beside George's cot, "would you wait 'till he's at least cognizant to threaten him?"

"You!" you fume, "why didn't you warn him!" Ron has given up trying to stop you at this point. You push past him, headed straight for Fred.

"I did! I shouted for him three times. The git was proper distracted. Must've been dreaming of something really special." He winks at you, and you think you could ring his neck right about now.

"I think you mean someone," Ron teases.

Both of them. You'll ring both of their necks.

"What the hell are you two chittering about?" you hiss.

"Oh, nothing at all, your graciousness. We'll leave you two lovebirds"—Fred clears his throat, standing and nodding to his youngest brother—"I mean friends... to it."

You grumble and flip them both off as they leave. You plop down into the chair just in time for Madam Pomfrey to come fluff the pillow propped beneath his left leg. She catches your weary glance over his limp body.

"I wouldn't worry too much, dearie. Nasty spills are what young men are made for. He just needs a little rest. Time to recover," she coos, smiling up at you from the base of the cot. You briefly worry the back of your neck before managing a nod.

"Thank you, madam. I appreciate it."

She grabs a quilt from the stack she had brought to his bedside and flattens it across his torso. You tug the side to even it out, a hitch in your breath when your fingers brush his cold knuckles.

"You know, when I attended Hogwarts, the quidditch boys were all the rage. My boyfriend was a Beater as well—"

"Oh, George—! He's not my..."

"He was wonderful. But of course, he was always getting into spills. It drove me mad to see the boy I loved in so much pain. In the end, I told him he'd have to be more careful or I'd call it quits. He told me he had to focus on his career anyway." She stands silently for a moment. Solemnly.

"That's terrible. I'm so sorry."

"You live and you learn. Boys will be boys, I suppose." Out of her trance, she shrugs and gestures to the clipboard sat on the desk. You hand it to her.

"May I ask... what became of him?"

"He retired from Quidditch very young. Only a few years in and, bam: traumatic brain injury. Some people can't be helped!"

You can't help but snicker at her frankness. She smiles, pats your shoulder, and sighs.

"You just have to love ‘em while you can."

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey."

"Of course, dear. You let me know when he wakes up." She scuttles away.

You take the silence of the moment to look at him. While you can. You prop your elbows on the edge of the cot and rest your head in your hands.

"Not sure how I feel about all of that information. Not sure how much I trust that advice." You tell him like it’s a secret, nose scrunched like there’s anyone else within earshot.

How fragile he seems laid flat atop this plastic wrapped bed. How rich the watercolor purples and yellows of his bruise. Down his neck, out across his jaw. The subtle swoop of his lashes, the rosy bridge of his nose. Then down to his bird bone fingers, your heart skips at the thought of tracing over the delicate skin.

He twitches, and you startle and sit pin straight. His muscles relax, though yours refuse to. You notice a rip at the hem of his folded quidditch robes and perk up.

Eight minutes later, you’re tugging just the edge of his robe into your lap while the rest is feathered out across the linoleum floor. Your emergency sewing kit is perched on your other thigh as you thread your needle and begin stitching.

George blinks the ache from his eyes, finally awake just to find you with a thin string caught between your teeth, your brow furrowed, and your fingers pinching fabric together. He reaches up and presses the heel of his palm to his forehead.

"Thank Merlin I wore something under my uniform today—"

"George!"

The sewing kit clatters to the floor along with the robe and thread. Hopefully that needle will be easy to find. But you smile for now, and it’s one of the sweetest things he’s ever seen. No wonder he took a bludger’s hit. You’re bloody distracting. Even when you’re not around.

“I’ll go get Madam Pomfrey, she said—"

"Were you... stitching up my quidditch robes?” he says, just a hint of teasing in his hoarse voice.

You look down and gape at the mess.

"There was a tear in—when you fell, the bottom—there was a rip! I had a sewing kit on me, I was just... helping a friend."

He blinks. If he wasn’t completely crushing on you before, it’s safe to say that was the nail in the coffin.

"That's adorable," he warbles.

You look cross and put your hands on your hips and scoff.

“Well, you can’t very well play with a rip in your uniform!"

"No. No, of course not,” he mumbles, “Silly me.”

Usually, you’d mock him. You’d call him names and tease him for getting knocked on his ass by and inanimate object. But that smirk has you incapacitated. He's making this very difficult for you.

"Well!” he chirps, “Don’t let me bother you, I’ll just be lying here."

"But Pomfrey—"

"I'll live. My mind is alive, the neurons are firing. All is well, it can wait,” he says, “Please.”

Goddamn you, George Weasley. You muster up a pathetic sigh and sit back on the stool, getting back to work on his robe.

But he’s back to grinning like a fool, admiring the way your tongue pokes the corner of your mouth when you focus. It’s incredibly endearing.

"You're very beautiful."

Daggers. “Shut up.”

He chuckles. "What? I find you to be very agreeable, poppet."

"Gee, thanks, Weasley,” you huff, “Do you want this stitch fixed or not—"

"Don’t get your dear panties in a twist, I’m only trying to compliment you. Would you just take it while I’m too ill to make fun of you properly?"

But he finds you very agreeable. And now you know that out loud. More than an inkling. More than friends. Oh, he’s awful.

"Quit staring."

"Sincerest apologies."

You roll your eyes and glare at him while the needle punctures the thick fabric.

"Why don’t I just tell Madam Pomfrey—"

"And ruin a moment? Come on, let me get a good look at you, you're the reason I’m in this mess,” George mumbles.

"Me?"

"Yes, you! Your stupid face won't get out of my head."

"Be serious, Weasley—"

"I am! You’ve cursed me, poppet, can't think straight unless I’m thinking of you."

"That's not fair!" you say.

"No, it’s not," he huffs, "I love you."

Shock. From both of you. More than friends, and more than a simple crush, now. But love. Love, for Merlin’s sake! Do you love him?

"You're being idiotic—”

"No. I'm not. I've thought long and hard about it, and I love you, and you can't change my mind—"

"George, quit it,” you say.

"Everyone knows it, poppet, I adore you, and—"

"I love you, too, George, now would you shut up!"

Well, then. Secrets out, no holds barred.

And he’s smiling all smug to himself, even though his left side is a bit swollen. And you’re back to fiddling with the stitched up tear in his robe. You’ve got crazy eyes. He thinks you might murder the stitched up tear in his robe. Or confess your love to it.

You groan.

"Stop smiling like that. You look crazy."

He shrugs. "I am crazy…"

"Do not—"

"… Crazy in love."

"I hate you"

"I know."

You look at him. And he’s looking back at you terribly fondly. As fragile as he seems now, he feels invincible. You fold up his fixed uniform and set it on the desk.

"George,” you sigh, “you have to stop getting hurt."

He nods curtly. "Okay. I’m sorry."

You squint at him, suspicious and expecting just a little pushback.

"... It's... okay, I just worry about you. I don't like seeing you like this." The stool scrapes against the floor, and George reaches for your hand.

"I know you don't, poppet. It won't happen again,” he says.

"Good. And if it does, then—"

"Then I’ll quit the team.”

"What!"

"I’ll do it. I’ll quit for you. I’ve got other things to worry about anyway. More important things than some silly sport where balls fly at your face."

Your eyes sparkle. For him, and it makes him absolutely giddy. He presses his thumb to the back of your hand and cocks a brow.

"Now,” he sighs, “would you come here and give me my hard won kiss?"

"Oh, so you won a kiss.”

"Nobly so. Dutifully and honorably. Nothing less than the best for your highness."

"Fine, whatever, only because you think I’m beautiful.”

You lean over his arm, trying not to nudge any of his tender injuries. While you’re being so careful, he’s straining for your kiss, jutting his neck out and shuffling under the quilt. He grunts at the overexertion, and you sit back before he gets his kiss.

"Nope! I’m getting Pomfrey!"

"One peck! Swear, I won’t move an inch!"

"Madam, he's awake!”

"Wonderful news, darling!" she calls from the other side of the wing, preparing a jug of water and a two glasses.

"You're horrible, and you torture me. You don’t love me at all, witch!" he whines, voice low

"On the contrary, I love you a good deal too much, which is why I’m so horrible."

He grumbles something under his breath.

Then chirps: "Be my girlfriend.”

You fold your hands in your lap. "If I must"

"And let me be your boyfriend,” he pleads.

"Well, what else would you be?"

"Your servant, your house pet. A footstool if you needed it.”

“George Weasley, you’re a fool,” you tease, reaching over to fix a strand of hair behind his ear.

"Yes, I am. A fool who loves you very much.”

“Sap.”

masterlist

[hii-hawaiiu]

[hii-hawaiiu]

Sometimes I get happy bc of a fanfic then remember I’m reading a fanfic

[hii-hawaiiu]

mrs. & mrs. hirai

hirai momo x fem!reader

synopsis: you, an assassin, find out you’ve been married to another assassin for the better half of a decade. 

tags: mr. & mrs. smith inspired ; assassin!au ; momo runs you over with a car ; it got really soft, i’m not sorry ; smut ; angst ; fluff ; violence warning ; mentions of guns ; anything else i’ve missed ; not proofread!!

when you go into the office, you’re already in an awful mood. you’re one of the best in your field with over fifty kills under your belt. you’ve never had any issues with the target until last week. that asshole—some assassin from another firm, no doubt–totally cut off your view and the target escaped. you tried to catch up, but it was too late. now, the target was in high-security lockdown and the chances of killing him are slim to none.

jihyo had told you to take a few days to cool off so the team could investigate what went wrong with your approach. you’d grabbed some coffee for yourself from downstairs, so you got one for jihyo too. she smiles gratefully as she takes a sip of the proffered drink. “you holding up?”

“yeah, still pissed though. i almost had him.” you complain as you plop down in your seat. “morning.”

“morning.” she tosses it back as she goes through her papers. “so, we’ll walk through some of the stuff the team found but i have something better. this is your next assignment.” jihyo pushes the folder in front of you. “it’s the bitch that fucked up our last assignment. that firm has been going after too many of our targets so it’s time to take out the competition.”

thank god, something productive to do and somewhere to channel your frustration with the whole mission. you open the folder and stare. and stare. you then look up at your friend and glare at her. “that’s not funny, jihyo.”

she shoots you a confused glance. “what’s not funny?”

you put your finger on the huge printout on the front page. “that’s— that’s my wife!” it could be no other but momo looking up at you, stone-cold serious in all black, looking how you’ve never seen her before.

jihyo purses her lip. “cute, y/n.” she rolls her eyes. “that’s not your wife, that’s the competition. we need to take her out. she’s not good for business.”

you stand up in your agitation, pacing the room. “jihyo, this isn’t a joke.”

she stares for a few moments until she can tell you’re serious. her eyes widen almost comically. “wait, really? that’s your wife?” her eyes dart to the picture.

“yes! that’s momo!” you’d know her face anywhere. momo isn’t an assassin—she works for some tech company where she does a load of things you barely understand. there’s no way she’s hidden this from you.

“no way.” jihyo takes a closer look. “she’s really hot.” her eyes narrow on you. “are you sure that’s your wife?”

“yes!” you hiss, your hand coming down to strike the table. “you’ve never seen my wife. why wouldn’t she be hot?” you ask, momentarily sidetracked.

“well, if she was this hot i’d have questions. you know no one is this hot without some skeletons in their closet. which apparently, might also be a hired gun.” jihyo eyes you warily. “besides, you kind of just complain about her, y/n. i kind of imagined her i don’t know... frumpy?”

guilt tugs at your gut. you do love momo, even if things have been difficult for a long time. you married her because you loved momo and she was also great in bed and a good cover. still, seven years of marriage have worn on the two of you, and the spark you both used to have seemed lost. still, that didn’t mean she had a whole secret life.

you shake the thoughts out of your head. “whatever. the point is, what am i supposed to do? i’ve been sleeping next to an assassin for the better part of a decade?”

“i mean, isn’t she sleeping next to an assassin every night?”

“yeah, but it’s not the same— jihyo.” you lower your voice. “i won’t kill her. i can’t. she’s everything to me, even if were in a rut.” momo floated the idea of marriage counseling just last week. it seemed like the two of you might have bigger problems than that now.

“the hit has been issued though.” jihyo points out the obvious. you have never refused a hit—it’s not something that goes well in this industry.

“just give me some time? please?” jihyo is your co-worker but she’s also your closest friend. one doesn’t get far in this industry without someone to count on and for you, that’s jihyo.

jihyo sighs and bites her lip. “just hang low and let’s see if i can work something up with the team. maybe there’s an error.” she allows. “you relax and try to figure out if your babe of a wife kills people for money.”

your eyes narrow. “hey, you might be a hired gun but that doesn’t mean you can talk about her like that.”

jihyo gives you a saccharine smile. “oh, that was purely because she’s hot. see you later y/n!”

you shake your head and roll your eyes. “thanks, jihyo.” you head to your office. it looks like it’s going to be another paperwork day while you stew over this.

when you go home that night you feel like you’re walking on eggshells. you remember to take off your shoes at the door and put on the slippers that momo always lays out for you. you take a deep breath, unsure how you’re going to act normal. when you go into the kitchen, there’s momo. like always, she’s cooking, putting the finishing touches on something that smells amazing. you lean against the entryway, staring at her.

she’s always been beautiful, that was never a question in your mind from the first time you saw her when you were on a mission in bogotá. today, she’s wearing a baby blue dress that hugs her figure, and a white apron that is pristinely clean. momo’s clean and loves order, is a tremendous cook, and has a dry, if subdued, sense of humor. you know her pretty well, you think. could she really be hiding something so big from you?

momo finally catches you staring and sends you a soft smile. “hey, you. dinner is almost ready.” she walks up to you and presses a perfunctory kiss to your lips like she does every day that you come home.

“hey. it smells great.” you pull momo close, and she lets out a surprised yelp, not expecting the affection.

you look down into momo’s eyes, both eyes brown. except in the picture you received at work, she was wearing contacts to make both her eyes blue. but it’s the same face. it has to be her. you pull momo in for a hug, feeling her pressed in your arms. momo hesitantly returns it, one hand rubbing up and down your back.

“are you alright, baby?” she sounds genuinely concerned and you wonder if that’s real or if it’s a lie too. momo’s studying your face a little too intently.

you’ve been lying just as long and as well. “i’m fine. just stress at work. you know how it is.” you shrug, one of your hands squeezing momo’s waist.

momo laughs you off. “yeah, i know how that can be. although i think your job is a little more difficult than mine.” if you weren’t looking for it, you might miss the sardonic twitch of momo’s lips. she spins around and starts tending to the food again, this time serving plates.

“do you need help with anything?” you offer.

momo shakes her head, already moving things to the table. “no, i’m good. just sit down so we can eat.”

the table is artfully done, all of the cutlery just so. the handle of the knife is cold to your touch as you pick it up, holding it a little tighter than usual. you cut into your steak like butter. have your knives always been this sharp? you’ve never noticed before.

“we need to replace that curtain.” momo reminds you as she works on her own food, her eyes glancing up at the big bay windows in the living room. she’s sitting at the far end of the dining table, miles of distance between you both.

you couldn’t give three shits about the curtains. “sure.” you agree readily.

momo narrows her eyes, which in your experience, can only mean trouble. “i asked you to look at the options i picked three days ago.”

the only sound is cutlery touching the plates as you study her face. “i looked at them.” you lie. “i liked the second one.” that seems inoffensive enough.

“what color was it?” she challenges, eyes bright.

you stop moving your fork in your mashed potatoes. “what?”

she leans forward in her chair, propping her elbow on the table. “what color was it, y/n?”

you consider her for a moment. momo never really angers with you—but maybe she does. maybe you know nothing about her after all. “blue.” you toss out.

a look of clear irritation passes her face but then it’s gone, shuttering away. “you must mean the green. i’ll order it tonight.”

youre sawing at your steak now. “sounds lovely.”

momo turns back to her food, and you do the same. it feels like a thick fog of tension has rolled over you both—every time your eyes catch, they dart away, minding your food and your wine glasses.

a thought strikes you as you take in the careful way that momo regards you. if momo’s cover is blown, then so is yours probably. but there’s no way to be sure. at least, it’s not something you’ll discover over a dinner conversation.

you walk to the middle of the table, picking up the bottle of wine that’s there. you quietly pad over to momo. she looks at you, a tightness in her eyes that hadn’t really left since the two of you started dinner. just as you reach momo, you stop, pouring her glass full of wine.

you don’t bother to look at the glass, instead staring at momo. she gives you an even stare back, leaning back and gripping the arms of her chair.

“thank you.” she murmurs quietly as you finish.

you don’t bother responding instead letting go of the bottle suddenly. in a flash, momo’s arm springs forward, catching the bottle before it hits the ground. if you thought things were tense before, it doesn’t even begin to compare to now. you can feel the realization sink in your gut—it’s momo. momo, the hired gun that fucked up your last assignment, your next target—all of it is momo.

“lucky catch,” you say, even though the two of you both know it’s not true.

momo drops the bottle as if it burned her, red wine staining the white rug.

“clumsy me.” she gets out of her seat. “i need something in the kitchen to clean this up.” momo turns quickly, her steps measured but fast as she walks away.

you walk toward your office just as quickly. you can just tell that there’s no going back and momo is a hostile threat the same way she was on the tarmac last week. you find one of your guns hidden in the drawer, drawing it and holding it out in front of you. you’ll be damned if you let momo kill you.

as you creep along the wall slipping out of your office, you think you must be losing your mind. but there was no feigning the knowledge in momo’s eyes, the caught look when she used cat-like reflexes you didn’t even know she had.

“honey?” you call out loudly, hoping to catch momo unaware. you hear the rev of the engine and curse when you see momo’s car pelting out of your driveway.

“fuck!” you run after her, knowing that your only chance is to cut through the backyards and hope you catch up to her. there’s no way you can start up your car in time. after a split second, you’re running full tilt out of the house, gun in hand. you pray the neighbors don’t see.

you cut through one yard and catch sight of momo’s taillights. “momo!” you bellow out. “we need to talk about this!” it’s ridiculous to think you’ll take the bounty on momo’s head—the both of you just need to figure this out. you both are married, for as much as its worth now. even if you both lied to each other, you’re not going to murder her.

momo’s car keeps revving forward, and you make the decision to cut through another yard. your lungs burn as the cold air cuts through them. you grunt as you hop up, hitting your gut on the fence as you swing over. you’re actually ahead of momo’s car now which is a relief.

as you pull yourself over the fence, your grip on the gun tightens and you feel the recoil as you accidentally pull the trigger. you look up at momo’s car pulled to a full stop, a hole in the windshield. it takes you a moment to realize your bullet put it there. your heart clenches as you look at momo through the window, checking to see if she’d been hurt. she isn’t, but her eyes are tightened to near slits and her mouth drops open in outrage as she stares at the bullet hole.

your stomach drops. “fuck, fuck, fuck.” this is going to be worse than the time you forgot momo’s mom’s birthday.

you make your way in front of the car slowly, hands up in surrender. “baby, let’s talk about all this.” you give her a tentative smile. momo’s expression doesn’t change, and she revs the engine. “momo,” you say sternly. “you can’t just run me—”

getting hit by a car is worse than you anticipated, especially when momo doesn’t stop. you barely get a grip on the roof of the car, holding on as the car careens forward. “momo.” you spit out but you’re sure it gets lost in the wind. you bang your hand on the windshield, but it does no good either.

you hear the door open, and snaps shut. by the time you turn to look back, momo is rolling on the ground and you’re still hanging off of the roof of her car. “momo! this isn’t how were supposed to—”

you feel your body fly off the roof, and onto the ground with a thud that rattles your bones. you take a deep breath and feel your vision blur. you try to fight it, but you lose consciousness on the hard ground.

you knock quietly on jihyo’s door. there’s nowhere else that’s safe for you to go, especially in the middle of the night. you obviously can’t go back home.

she’s bleary-eyed when she answers but the moment jihyo takes you in, her eyes are wide and she’s on full alert. “what happened to you?”

“my wife.” you walk in, your whole body aching. you’d woken up with what you assume is a concussion and a searing headache. not to mention a ton of twigs in your hair.

“you look like a car ran you over.”

you let out a harsh laugh. “it did.”

she opens her door wider, gesturing for you to come in. “oh. yeah, sit down i’m going to get the first aid kit.”

you stare into space as you hear jihyo shuffling about. you knew it from the moment you saw the picture, but it still feels impossible. “i can’t believe she lied to me.” momo is always going on about honesty, about trying for your relationship. and yet, she was living a whole other life.

jihyo scoffs as she tends to a cut on your cheek. “really? not like you were the most honest person in that relationship.”

“it’s different!” you insist. “i married her because i loved her.” momo didn’t want to talk, and she ran you over with her car. the moment her cover was blown, it’s like she didn’t care at all.

you shake your head. your marriage hadn’t always been like this. you remember days when the two of you first got together, when the two of you lay naked in bed all day, touching each other with gentleness and passion. sure, the two of you married young and it was convenient for you—you needed a cover—but you love momo. or at least, whoever you thought momo to be.

“look, you should get some rest. you’re clearly upset.” she advises. “and probably a shower before that.”

“upset? my wife wants to kill me, jihyo.”

“you don’t know that.” she grabs a towel out of a utility closet and hands it to you.

you hold the towel lightly between your hands. “she ran me over with a car. how else do you interpret that?” you shake your head. “besides, if my firm issued her out as a target to me, i bet you anything her firm did the same.” the two of you are stuck in a loop that’ll probably only end with one of you dead or on the run.

“maybe she’s as confused as you are. vulnerable. she probably didn’t know about you either.” she reminds you as she shepherds you to the bathroom.

“well, she didn’t seem very vulnerable—” you hiss as your face stings from the ointment jihyo roughly applies. “—when she hit me with her car.”

“you seem really offended by the car thing.” you balk and jihyo holds up a hand. “shower and sleep. i’m not dealing with this nonsense at two in the morning.”

you and jihyo search for momo for two days and the two of you can’t find anything. her office has moved, and her car isn’t there when you’ve driven by the house. jihyo has been coordinating with the team at the firm, pulling on those resources too to try and find her. it takes you that amount of time to gather the courage to go back into your house. 

you have your gun out and pointed to the ground as you walk in. you feel strangely emotional as you walk in, slowly passing by all the rooms the two of you lived your lives together in. something catches your eye—the curtains are different. it’s the green that momo had mentioned. 

“why would she come back and change the curtains?” you mutter under your breath. another thought comes to you. “she’d already bought the stupid things before asking my opinion.” it’s so like momo to just take over something like that, only asking for approval after the fact. why even ask you what you thought? she practically decorated the house single-handedly anyway. you set aside your annoyance as you get to your bedroom. 

at first, nothing looks truly out of place. your eye catches something in the corner of the room. you peer inside the trash can and swallow a lump in your throat. with shaky hands you pull out what you find in it, hoping it’s not what you think. your gut drops. it’s the videotape of your honeymoon, tossed away as if it were nothing. momo had definitely been back to the house and with this, she’s made a statement. you look to momo’s side of the closet and there are clothes missing.

you open one of momo’s drawers, finding a stack of her lingerie. your eyes catch on a black one that you bought her to celebrate your fifth wedding anniversary. you remember the night well—the two of you hadn’t fought at all, you and momo spent the night together, laughing and kissing. you pull out the soft nightie, something panging in your chest.

“she’s not really your wife.” you murmur to yourself.

you have to accept the fact that you don’t know momo. you’re fighting for your life now and momo is a stranger, not the woman you’d sworn your life to. if this upheaval has taught you something, it’s that you can’t trust anything that you thought about your marriage. still, you’re weak and you miss momo. you’ve been missing momo for a long time now. you pull the soft fabric to your face, inhaling. it smells just like her. you shove it back in the drawer and close it.

you look at the nightstand on the side of the bed and notice momo’s phone is there. she’d probably picked up a new one. you pick it up and look through the recent calls, calling the last number. you hold your breath.

“golden real estate.” says a chipper voice on the line.

“hi, there i’m calling from hysteria industries.” you give the name of momo’s supposed employer.

“oh, of course! how are you liking the new space?” the voice fills with recognition.

you smile. you have a lead. “it’s working out just fine.” you lay back on your bed. “i have some furniture i need to ship, can you help me out with that?” you would find momo one way or another.

it only takes you another day to be ready to confront momo. you feel the elevator in the new golden real estate building stand still suddenly and you know you’ve been found by momo. you expected as much when you got in the elevator.

a deep voice comes through the speaker on the elevator. “it seems like your elevator has stopped functioning, ma’am. do you want me to send an engineer to see what the problem is?”

the voice isn’t just deep, its distorted. you grin. “no, i’m comfortable right here.” you offer flippantly.

there’s a pause. “is that sarcasm?”

you find the security camera in the corner and stare right at it. “i know it’s you, momo.”

“are you sure you’re comfortable, y/n?” the voice that comes through is husky and teasing—you could imagine that the two of you are in your room alone, instead of trapped in an elevator at momo’s mercy. you’d give anything to go back to a time like that.

“why don’t you come out here and face me? preferably without a car windshield between us.”

“no time for jokes, dear.” you lean your hands on the elevator walls, listening to momo’s voice. “this is your first and last warning, y/n. get out of town.”

you shake your head slowly. “you know i’m not going anywhere.”

“so, you say. but you’re dangling in a steel box with sixty stories of air beneath you.”

your eyebrows climb up your face. “oh, is this a trap then?”

“you think i’d be dumb enough to leave my phone for you to find with a sensitive number on it? i thought you were more than just a pretty face, baby.”

“well, at least you still think it’s pretty.” you quip. as if you didn’t suspect this was a trap from the start. “So what? you have a charge on the counterweight cable and two more on the brakes?” you list off all of the explosives you disabled before you got into the elevator. the silence runs long, and you know momo didn’t expect that of you. “whatever your plain is, it won’t work because you always underestimate me.”

“oh, i do?” momo sounds amused.

“you have no idea what i’m capable of.” you know that’s true, even if you don’t think you could stomach seriously hurting momo. momo always took over everything because she doesn’t think you’re able to do things.

“likewise, baby. did you check the base of the principal elevator cable?” you freeze—you hadn’t seen that. well, fuck. there’s a sigh that blows out of the speaker. “first and last warning, y/n.” she repeats again, this time more sternly. “promise to leave town, or i’ll blow it.”

you lift your hands up into the air. “alright, i give up. blow up the elevator.” despite all the evidence to the contrary, you refuse to believe momo will actually kill you. maybe you’re a fool but you refuse to believe there isn’t some truth to you both being together.

“excuse me?” momo’s voice is strained.

“do it. blow it up.”

“five... four...” her voice trails off. “i’ll do it.” it’s that stubborn tone she gets when the two of you are fighting about which china set to put out for a dinner party. you lean your head against the elevator wall for a moment, hiding your face. god, you miss her.

you look back into the camera and shoot it a smile, imagining momo on the other end. you wish you could see her. “come on now, momo. all talk?”

“any last words?” momo’s voice is smug over the telecom again.

“the new curtains are hideous.” you can’t help but get a dig in.

“goodbye, y/n.” there’s an echo of her laugh in the curl of her words. the elevator that’s rigged—the elevator that momo thinks you’re in—goes into a freefall.

you take a deep breath as you hear the thunderous noise of the elevator you’d been pretending to be in crash into the first floor. you’re about to unplug the cable you’d used to confuse the signals of the elevators, a deep disappointment in your bones. momo really doesn’t care.

just before the connection dies, you hear momo panicked voice come through the line “what the hell was that? i didn’t—”

you pull out the cable and stare at it, almost in wonder. it sounded like real fear, fear for you. maybe not everything is lost after all.

you stay low for a few days but then it’s christmas eve. part of you realizes that momo’s panic could have been for a number of reasons—it didn’t mean she wouldn’t have killed you. but the idea of her being alone on the holiday makes your heart clench. besides, you’re not planning on backing down and being on the run your whole life. when you found out momo made reservations at a familiar restaurant for the holiday, you buy a tailored suit and plans to surprise her there.

you’re glad you catch sight of momo before she sees you because it takes a moment for you to collect yourself. she’s in a dark slinky number with a neckline that shows off the slope of her collarbones. she’s staring vacantly ahead, a single shimmering tear on her cheek. almost angrily, she brushes it off and tilts back her champagne flute, demolishing the drink in one swig.

momo has her hand on the bottle when you come up right beside her. “you wouldn’t be getting all mushy because you killed me, right?”

for a moment, you’re worried momo is going to bash your head in with the champagne bottle from the way her hand tightens on it. you can see the genuine surprise as her eyes rake over you.

“how...?” her voice is barely a whisper, more of a sigh as she drinks you in.

you stuff your hands in your suit pockets, shrugging. “are you impressed?”

“amazed.” it doesn’t even sound sarcastic, and it makes your traitorous heart beat faster.

“amazed i’m still alive?” you make your way to the chair across from momo, sitting down.

she seems to get over her initial shock, jutting her chin up. “amazed you managed to tie your tie on your own.”

you bite your lip to keep in your smile. it was one of your favorite things when the two of you got married. momo would fuss over your tie, making sure it was perfect before pulling you close and giving you a sweet kiss. you can’t remember when she stopped doing that. “thanks, i’m full of surprises.”

momos still eyeing you with something akin to hunger now. “that suit is certainly one of them.”

“thanks.” you think of saying something about how fantastic momo looks but think better of it.

you shift the gun you brought out of your suit jacket and onto your lap. you can tell from the way momo shifts her weight she has a weapon of choice in her lap as well.

“hands on the table?” momo suggests lightly. you nod, doing as momo asks, watching for her hands to do the same. “how did you know where—”

“i proposed here on christmas eve seven years ago. i had a hunch you might be feeling sentimental.” it was less of a hunch than a hope. your heart jumped to your throat when you realized momo made a reservation here, on this night of all nights. you had to come.

momo frowns, eyes guarded. “i came for the clams.” she huffs, looking away.

your eyes trail over her again. she looks so good; it feels impossible for one woman to be this beautiful. “is this a new dress?”

momo rolls her eyes in irritation at the small talk. “what do you want, y/n?” she cuts to the chase, one of the hands bunching on the white tablecloth.

you lean forward, careful to keep your hands visible. “we need to talk.” it’s been all you’ve wanted since this whole mess started.

“about what?”

your eyebrows raise of their own accord. “us.”

she scoffs. “there is no us.”

you feel anger at the denial. “so, there’s nothing between us then?” how dare she just give up? if everything is up in smoke now, it only means there used to be a fire. you and momo burned brightly, and you need to know it was real, if only for your sanity.

she stares coldly at you. “only a table.”

you stand up slowly, pocketing your gun. you walk around the edge of the table and hold your hand out for momo. she stares at it uncomprehendingly until you nod to the dance floor.

“really?” you nod and pull her onto the dance floor. momo rolls her eyes. “you don’t dance.” she informs you dryly.

you lift your arms into a perfect frame and turn your face away, as the tango demands. you smirk when you hear momo’s sharp intake of breath. “all part of the cover.” you say loftily.

momo doesn’t miss a step either, your bodies moving together in a way that’s different than you’re used to. you’ll never get to tell momo now, but you have always wanted to dance with her.

“were the clothes on the bathroom floor every morning part of the cover too?” she grouses as you turn her. you take a step too far, pressing momo onto the wall, not hard enough to injure her but enough for her to realize you’re not fucking around.

you keep moving, not letting momo catch her breath as you reach one hand under her dress, grabbing the outside of her thigh. you keep reaching up until you find what you’re looking for, ignoring all of the soft skin there in favor of the dagger momo is hiding. you throw it sharply, and it pierces the far wall with a dull thud.

momo reaches behind you, grabbing your ass and then sliding her hands up to your waistband, pulling out the gun there, dropping it, and kicking it out of reach. the two of you don’t stop dancing and you ignore the way that momo’s hips move although it’s all you want to think about.

“if i knew you could dance like this, maybe i wouldn’t have thought you were so boring.” its sharp and angry, words meant to cut you.

you pull her into a dip, keeping the two of you there for a moment. “who cares if i was boring? i was just a cover to you.” you accuse openly.

she arches her brow, her foot grazing your calf, almost making you lose your balance. “who said you were just a cover?”

“wasnt i?” you demand to know. how much of your marriage was even real?

momo falters for a moment before she looks determined, a hired gun once again. “excuse me.” she says coldly heading up the stairs.

“there are no exits here.” you point out, although you’re not sure why this would be a perfect opportunity to catch her and end this once and for all.

“i’ll make one.” she spits out before she keeps walking, sliding between people until she’s out of your reach.

you stare after momo, digging your heels in to keep from chasing. she’s a liar. you just need to wait her out. you watch as a few people run and then there’s an explosion upstairs. fuck. you watch as streams of people run out of the restaurant, making it possible for momo to hide in plain sight. you use your height to look over most of the heads in the crowd, looking for familiar brown hair. you think you see her and walk quickly, making it out of the restaurant.

you’re looking around when you bump into an old man. “ma’am, you’re ticking.”

you freeze. amongst the commotion, you hadn’t heard the ticking coming from your suit jacket. you quickly strip it off, throwing it into a mailbox a few feet away. “get back!” you tell, waving your hand and running away from the bomb. it’s a small explosion but if it had been on your person, it definitely wouldn’t have down well. you shake your head. “momo.” you curse. you’d lost sight of her.

you quickly find her car and press your foot on the gas pedal, getting onto the highway as fast as you can. for the first time since this whole mess started, you call momo. 

“you tried to kill me.” you accuse, your hand tight on the steering wheel.

momo laughs. “it was a little bomb, y/n. lighten up.” she sighs. “why did you call me?”

“why did you answer?” all of the noise on momo’s side of the line makes you think you’re on the highway too. it gives you a direction, although you have no evidence of where momo is actually going. “never mind that. i want you to tell me something different. tell me, what was the first thing you thought when you met me.” the silence lingers, only the sound of traffic assuring you that momo hasn’t hung up. you have a knot in your throat. “because i thought... the first time i saw you momo, i thought you were the most beautiful woman id ever seen in the day of my life.” you can almost imagine her, dressed to the nines in that tiny bar. her taunting smirk, first at the bar and then looking up at you from the hotel sheets.

“why are you asking me that? why are you telling me this?”

“i guess when you get to the end of something you think of the beginning.” you can see the writing on the wall. this is going to end poorly no matter what and momo’s lost to you. “i just thought you should know the truth.” you want momo to have at least that silver of it. the suggestion that your relationship was real. at least, for you it was. “so. are you going to tell me?”

“i thought you were the most beautiful cover id ever seen.”

your blood freezes in your veins. “so, it was all business from the beginning.”

“mhm. all business. just cold, hard... math.” her voice cracks and all the background noise cuts off but when you look down the call is still going. momo muted herself.

“that’s what i needed to know.” you hang up. you grab the next exit, and you can see momo’s car ahead of you. you speed up, riding her bumper. you can’t believe your wild guess is right and momo went to your house. you smash your car into momo’s as the both of you hit the driveaway.

you’re all instinct as you pull out of the car running as fast as you can and crawling over the hedge. you find your toolshed, where you keep your weapons cache, and open the door. you’re sure momo is looking for wherever she has her stash. you quickly find a silencer, putting it on the gun you had at the restaurant. you stuff your waistband with another two guns and your pockets with ammunition. you also quickly put in ear plugs. 

you listen and you can’t hear a damn thing outside. you quickly but quietly make your way into the house. the front door is wide open, so you use the back. chances are momo is waiting for you to walk in blind and she’s set up a trap for you there. you walk through the hallway, not finding momo. you stop when you get to the walkway that leads to the open area of the living room.

you know you can’t look around that corner without being a wide-open target. you look around and grin when you find something of use. you pick up a framed picture of you and momo to try and see around the corner, using the reflective surface like a mirror. you catch a glimpse of momo, and you pull it back. it looks like momo’s set up on the stairwell with some kind of shotgun. 

you’re unsure if momo saw the movement of the frame, but you don’t have to wonder for long. multiple bullets spray through the wall, confirming what you already knew. you throw yourself on the ground, cupping your ears against the loud sound of the shots.

“fuck.” you mutter under your breath, but you can barely hear it over the ringing in your ears, even with the ear protection. you crawl as silently as you can down the hallway.

“are you still alive, baby?” you hear momo’s voice ring out along with the heavy clunk of the magazine.

you’re tempted to respond but then another thought occurs to you. you make a half-choking sound and imitate a dull thump on the ground. your house is filled with silence.

“y/n?” this time sounds more concerned, and you can hear her get closer.

you start shooting immediately through one of the holes made by the shotgun, watching as momo ducks and rolls out of the way running into the living room. you duck yourself as the bullets spray through the wall she is using for cover.

you quickly run out of your first round of bullets, and you hear a curse from the kitchen, and you figure momo did too. you take a chance and run into the kitchen at full tilt, taking momo by surprise as you tackle her. momo decks you across the face and pushes you against the wall, making you grunt in pain. you push back, using your height advantage to get out of the hold momo has you in. 

momo is faster than you and manages to dart out of the kitchen. you can hear her reloading and you quickly do the same, heart beating loudly in your chest. you hide in the next room over standing stalk still to not give away your position. you slow your breathing, trying to think of where momo might have gone. it’ll likely be the bathroom or back out to the living room. the bathroom is too closed off, but the living room is too open. neither is ideal in this situation. 

you turn and almost knock down a vase. you manage to grab it, biting your lip and hoping that jostling that stupid thing wouldn’t cost you your life. you recognize it as one that momo bought at a garage sale a few years back. the bullets start coming from the living room and you have to run again. you trip and end up on your back, which is fine for the moment because momo runs out of bullets again. you get up and think to run past momo in the living room to get back to the other hallway. 

you only realize your mistake when you’ve already entered the living room—momo wasn’t reloading at all, she’d just pulled out her handgun. she has it trained on you, taking a step closer until you both are face to face, guns trained on each other. 

you can see the absolute rage in momo’s eyes as she holds the gun up to your chest and suddenly all the fight gives out in you. when you think of pulling the trigger this close, you feel nauseous. the two of you have been fighting but you know you can’t kill momo. you’ve always known that.

you lower your gun slowly to momo’s disbelief. “i give up.” you say simply.

momo lets out a snarl, tamping her foot down. “no! pick it back up, y/n.” she demands, her own hands trembling on the gun. “pick it up.” she nudges the barrel of your gun with her own.

you smile sadly at her. you grab the barrel of momo’s gun and press it tightly over your chest. the metal feels cold against you, but it doesn’t matter. it’s the closest you’ll ever get to a kiss from momo ever again. “you want it? it’s yours.” your heart has always been momo’s. if she wants to blow through it with a bullet, that’s her right.

momo’s face crumples, tears shining in her eyes in what can only be an expression of heartbreak. it hurts more than any of the hits she’s landed since the two of you started fighting. momo tosses her gun, and it clatters on the ground. suddenly, momo is in your arms and you’re on the receiving end of a bruising kiss.

the force of it makes you fall backward but by no means does it mean you both stop. momo kisses you with everything she has, and you can’t help but respond, offering yourself up in return. you’re not sure if momo loves you or wants to kill you, but you’d happily take this over what the two of you had been doing.

you let your hands roam momo, pulling her close and listening to the groan she releases, and you manage to get a hand inside her dress. “fuck, momo.” you curse, your lips looking for purchase on her neck.

momo tears through your shirt. you’re sure the buttons make some type of noise as they land around the two of you, but you can’t hear past the ringing in your ears. you pull out the earplugs, but it isn’t much better. you can’t find any part of you that cares. you just want to be with momo. it won’t be the first time you make love to her with partial hearing, and it probably won’t be the last.

you turn so that you’re on top, hiking momo’s thigh and hitching it to your hip. “baby, please.” you’re sure you’re almost yelling it, but momo probably can’t hear well either. you’re not sure what you’re begging for, whether for momo to stop or to keeping. to love you or to just put you out of your misery.

momo reaches out, her hands gentle for once, as she tilts your face. your dark hair curtains both of you, like the two of you are closed off from the world. “y/n, i love you.” you have to read momo’s lips to make sure you’ve heard it right but it’s worth everything. “i always have.”

you can feel tears well up in your eyes. “i love you too. more than anything.” you lean down and kiss her again.

you feel momo widen her legs, making room for your hand to creep higher on her thigh. you pull off momo’s dress and when you’re inside of her, when the two of you both groan into each other’s skin and are overcome with the emotions and physical sensations, it’s like the night the two of you met at the bogotá all over again. 

it takes hours for you to sleepily open your eyes after momo runs you ragged. your house is in ruin around you both but with momo lounging on your chest, all you feel is calm. you realize momo is also awake when she turns her head, catching your gaze.

“i love you.”

momo’s eyes soften further, and she leans up, placing a soft kiss on your lips. “me too, baby. i love you so much.”

“tell me something about you. something real.” you ask quietly, your fingertips running up and down momo’s arm.

“i suck at cooking.” she says bluntly.

you can’t help but gasp, looking down at momo. “but all the dinners? you cook fantastic.” ever since the two of you were married, momo was always in charge of your kitchen.

she shakes her head, nuzzling further into your chest. “the firm has them brought every day. it was part of my cover.”

you look at her wide-eyed. “my favorite casserole?” you whine in disbelief.

momo laughs, tucking herself even closer to your side, like she can sink into your skin. “oh yeah, baby. that’s all gone now.” a quiet settles around you both as the two of you think of the implications of that statement. if you both don’t kill each other the both of you certainly don't have a way to complete either of your hit contracts. you knew you’d never complete yours, but you’d never thought this far ahead.

“fuck, mo. what are we going to do?” the two of you haven’t talked anything out and you have no clue what options you both even have. “we have to get their traces off of us.”

“well, how do we do that when they want us both gone if we don’t kill each other?”

you place a soft kiss on the top of momo’s head. “i’m not sure, but we can figure it out together.” you can feel momo tensing, worrying about the very real danger the two of you are in. “hey.” you tilt momo’s face to place a gentle kiss on her forehead. “i love you.” you say seriously. you’re never going to stop saying it ever again.

momo kisses you fully, leaning over you. “i love you too. and i’m sorry.” her hand gestures to the house that is falling apart. almost as if on cue, one of the picture frames falls off the wall.

you shake your head. “we have insurance.” you joke, your arm snaking around momo’s waist.

momo doesn’t laugh. “no, y/n. we just tried to kill each other. i’m sorry.” she presses a kiss to your cheek.

“we’ve been through worse i’m sure.” you kiss her fully.

she raises an eyebrow. “worse than this?”

“remember that time i forgot our anniversary?”

“oh yeah, that was bad.” she leans forward and places a tender kiss on your cheek. “fuck you, it was the fifth one too.”

“i was concussed! i didn’t know what day it was! i’d spent three days in four different time zones too.” momo had let you have it for weeks and you had stayed silent unable to disclose any of the reasons why you forgot.

“no excuse. i still remembered our third anniversary after getting shot in the foot.”

you pull back to see if momo is being serious. “how did i miss that?”

“it glanced off my boot mostly.” she gives you an impish grin.

you glare. “drama queen.” the two of you settle back into each other’s arms. your ass is numb from laying on the living room rug but you’re not going to be the one to suggest you both to move. you probably have rug burn but it feels like a warm moment between you both and you don’t want it to end.

“i can’t believe you can dance.” momo sighs wistfully.

you feel a pang of regret for all the dances that could have been if the two of you had been honest. “sometimes when i’d see you dancing— i’d do anything to dance with you.”

“you can dance with me now.” you soothe, ignoring your predicament entirely. 

“i’ll dance with you whenever you want, baby.” you hum to yourself. “oh! i was married once before.” you add to the pile of things you’d never disclosed before.

“excuse me?” momo turns and glares at you.

you shrug. “it was a vegas thing, wasn’t important.” you’d been young and the two of you had gotten a quick divorce—you honestly forgot at times you were married to anyone before momo.

“what’s her name and social security number?” momo asks, eyes cold and calculating.

you shake your head and laugh. “absolutely not, you aren’t killing her.”

momo buries her head in your shoulder. “i could.” she grumbles.

“you probably could but that isn’t very nice.” you try to keep the laugh out of your voice but it’s hard. the jealousy is silly and unnecessary, but it warms you anyway.

“i don’t have parents,” momo reveals.

“what? who showed up to our wedding then?”

“paid actors.”

it’s silly but your mind jumps to something else. “so, i never forgot your momo’s birthday.” you point out.

“it was the principle of the matter, y/n.” momo sounds a little huffy and you run your fingers down her back to soothe her.

“yeah, that’s true.” you concede. as many lies as there are piled between you both, you know that there were other things wrong with your marriage too. it feels far away now, though. you’ve never felt closer to momo. “can i ask you something?”

“of course, anything.”

“why did you throw out the honeymoon video?” it’s barely a whisper because you’re afraid to ask it.

momo winces. “you noticed that?” you nod, biting your lip to keep yourself from saying more. “i… when i realized that you’d had this other life, i felt so betrayed. i didn’t think you loved me. i felt used.” momo starts haltingly. “the girls — nayeon and mina, i work with them — they just started watching it when i came to pick up my stuff. we looked so happy in it. and you looked at me like—” her voice is filled with tears, “—like you loved me.”

“i do love you. then and now.” you remind gently, brushing a stray tear off of momo’s cheek.

“it didn’t feel that way then. i couldn’t bear to see it, so i tossed it. tossed out the lie.” she explains.

you nod. you understand it well—you’d had the same doubts and fears that momo did. “know this. now and forever, it’s you and me, okay? you’re my wife.” you cup her jaw and bring your lips together.

momo sighs when the two of you part. “okay,” she agrees.

you don’t want to leave but the two of you are probably in danger of getting shot naked if you both push this any longer. “from your firm, is there anyone you’d trust with your life?”

“sana,” momo says without hesitation. “she’s like a sister to me.”

“okay. you get sana, i’m going to get jihyo — she’s the person i trust — and we are going to figure out how to get these contracts off our backs.” you sigh. “and then we can kill our enemies and we’re safe, we can go to marriage counseling.”

momo lets out a soft gasp. “you didn’t want to go before.”

“i was being an idiot before.” there’s nothing worse than losing momo. be it a hitman contract or insidious complacency, you’re not letting anything tear the two of you apart.

“is it bad if i think it’s really sexy when you shoot things?”

you laugh and shake your head. “no, because i think the same.” you place a kiss on momo’s shoulder. “let’s see if we have any clothes without bullet and let’s get our life back.”

momo smiles at you so tenderly, you think you would be okay with dying right then and there.

[hii-hawaiiu]

[hii-hawaiiu]

midnight ๋࣭ ⭑ chocol

gayoung and you share a dorm room, but you can't help but wonder why she always arrives late and leaves early each morning

| wc: 3.7 k 🫶

The clock struck midnight, and you were doing your homework. However, you could not concentrate as your mind drifted to  your mysterious roommate, Gayoung. Over the course of nearly a semester, Gayoung and you have shared a dorm, and despite your now limited interactions, you always appreciated her—nevertheless, she seems to have a completely changed her schedule from yours, often arriving late when you are asleep and leaving too early in the morning—your occasional conversations would happen during afternoons when she is in the dorm or when you cannot sleep. Despite this, Gayoung was a great roommate, as her side of the room is consistently tidy, she is never noisy, and she always leaves some ready-to-eat breakfast for you. 

Every interaction with her left you with a sense of curiosity—there was no doubt that she was chatty, but most of the time, she now seemed nervous around you. It was as if she would rather not be present when you were there. Gayoung was not always like this, you clearly remember the joy she found in your company. Recalling how your favorite shared activity was grocery shopping—it was something both of you were fond of, always joking around about how you resembled a married couple. Yet, in contrast to those moments, the present reality felt distant.

Speculations crept into your thoughts—maybe she wanted to change dorms and was patiently waiting for the semester to end before making the request? The uncertainty lingered as you mechanically typed away on your Google document, the words on the screen blurring into a nonsensical mess rather than an essay—thinking about Gayoung made it impossible to focus on anything else. 

Frustrated and needing a break, you considered leaving your laptop on the desk and watching something on the television. Just as you were about to surrender to the distraction, you heard a particular sound—keys rattling on the other side of the door; Gayoung had arrived. You turned your chair around and watched as she entered the dorm, and her immediate reaction spoke volumes—she clearly did not expect to see you awake. The door shut behind her, locking it, and then she leaned casually against the wall.

"Hi, Chocol." You greeted, using her nickname. "How's it going?" You turned back to your homework, pretending to pay attention to it. Perhaps, you supposed, avoiding direct eye contact would help ease her evident nervousness in your presence.

"I'm doing alright." She replied, the audible click of her keys finding their place on the holder. "And you? Why are you staying up so late?"

"Homework." You complained, adopting an annoyed tone. "Mr. Parra seems to hate us. I have to do an essay on English morphosyntax, and I don't know shit."

Gayoung let out a dry chuckle. "Classic Parra move. I had him last semester." She said, settling onto her desk, situated next to yours. "Need a hand with that?"

As you directed your gaze toward her, she promptly shifted her attention to turning on her computer. "No, it’s okay." You said, softly smiling. "Besides, what if he thinks I plagiarized it?"

"He won't even check it. Just throw in some references following APA, he’ll think you did the research." She reassured you. "Send me the document, and I'll help you."

A light giggle escaped your lips. "I accept, but just a bit of help, though. I'm not asking you to write the whole thing for me." 

"What have you written so far?" Gayoung asked. 

"I've done the introduction and about two pages of just laying out basic definitions and the significance of delving into the roots of words." You explained, scanning through the document. “That’s it, basically.”

Gayoung wheeled her chair closer to yours, positioning herself to inspect the document firsthand. She reached for your laptop and began typing, fully immersed in the essay; she effortlessly began writing.

"Chocol, there's something I've been wanting to ask you." You said, recognizing the rare opportunity that she was there.

Gayoung stopped typing momentarily, her fingers hovering over the keyboard before turning to you and giving a nod. "Mhm, tell me."

"Why are you never here? I've noticed you always show up late and leave before I even wake up." You asked, following up with a little joke. "It's almost like you're avoiding me."

Gayoung chuckled, adjusting her chair to face you directly, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, she managed to maintain eye contact for more than just a few seconds. A quietness enveloped the room as she hesitated to respond, however, the atmosphere, rather than uncomfortable, was tense, as if she was about to confess that she found you annoying or that you were a terrible roommate. 

She nervously ran her fingers through her orange hair, letting out a small sigh as she poked her tongue out. "Nothing, in particular, I guess." She responded, her demeanor subtly uneasy. 

Watching her, you could not ignore that there was more to this. "Are you sure? I mean, it seems like basically avoiding me is more than just 'nothing.'"

"I just enjoy driving around at night." Gayoung explained, her words having a hint of defensiveness. "And I don't want to bother you, so I come back late. It's just that... I guess." She trailed off, revealing she could not find the proper words to form her sentence. 

"Bother me?" You questioned, perplexed by what she said. "Why would you bother me? I like being around you. I wish we could interact more often—now we hardly talk in person, and our texts are usually just you saying 'left you oatmeal for breakfast' or simple things. I miss you." You took a deep breath. “I miss how close we were, Gayoung. I miss how we were before.” 

Gayoung remained silent, her eyes fixed on you, lost in thoughts. As you continued to look at her, details about her appearance that had previously escaped you became apparent: like how pretty the delicate moles beneath her eye were, the slightly messy eyeliner, and how deep her eye color was.

You pressed on. "Ch... Gayoung, it's been almost five months since we lived together, and this is probably the most we've spoken in the past three weeks. When we first met, I thought by now we'd be inseparable. I remember how we giggled and chatted as we rearranged the entire place, and you helped me unpack my stuff, or the first time we went grocery shopping."

She was not the same as when you first became roommates, the warmth and closeness was long gone.

The memories washed over you, tinged with nostalgia despite their recent occurrence. However, Gayoung rolled her eyes and averted her gaze as she sighed, making you realize that—she might genuinely not want you around.

"Sorry for talking so much, I just wish we were closer. I'll leave you alone." You concluded. 

You stood up from your desk, grabbing your phone and keys. Gayoung remained silent, still not uttering a single word as you left the dorm, firmly shutting the door behind you. As you left the building, you sought comfort in the night—the campus was quiet, with nothing open at this hour. Sitting on a bench, you drew your legs up to your chest, attempting to gather your thoughts amid the silence. The thought of returning to the dorm weighed heavily on your mind, you could not stay outside forever, and the uncertainty of how Gayoung would react upon your return made you nervous. The possibility crossed your mind that she might have left already or did not want to sleep there anymore, deepening the whole situation. 

In a whisper to yourself, you could not help but acknowledge what awaited you. "Oh my god, it's going to be so awkward now. I definitely fucked this up." 

Despite Gayoung's insistence that there was nothing wrong, the lack of clarity on her part only made you worry. If, for some reason, your presence was so undesirable, you could not understand why she would not be honest rather than resort to avoiding you.

The sound of your phone getting a notification disrupted the silence. You chose to ignore it and did not check your phone—however, as the notifications continued, you thought that perhaps it was something important. Surrendering to the constant texts, you checked your phone, unlocking it to reveal it was Gayoung.

chocol<3: hey [1:54 a.m]

chocol<3: hey y/n [1:55 a.m]

chocol<3: please answer [1:55 a.m]

chocol<3: are you there? [1:55 a.m]

chocol<3: where are you? are you on campus? [1:55 a.m]

chocol<3: just tell me; if you're far, i'll drive there [1:56 a.m]

chocol<3: i need to talk to you [1:56 a.m]

chocol<3: please [1:57 a.m]

y/n: i'm on campus [1:58 a.m]

y/n: i'll go to the dorm [1:58 a.m]

As you made your way to the dorm, each step made you more nervous—you wondered what awaited you or what Gayoung wanted to say. Upon reaching the dorm, you hesitated, taking a deep breath before unlocking the door. As you got inside, Gayoung sat in the same spot, her head nestled between her hands. 

You got close to her, extending your hand and placing it gently on her back, tracing soft circles. "Chocol, I apologize for bringing that up. It's alright—I just hope things won't be weird between us now."

"No." She said abruptly, her response leaving you perplexed.

Suddenly, Gayoung grasped a handful of her hair, an action that showed the intensity of her emotions—you remained still, confused, but ready to offer her your support. Gayoung got up abruptly and stood in front of you, biting the inside of her cheek before trying to speak. She was anxious, it was evident—her hands trembled, and you could hear how heavy she was breathing. 

"Cho-" You began, trying to calm her, but she cut you off.

"Things were, and will always be, weird between us." She admitted through gritted teeth, a raw honesty emphasizing her words. “Always.”

"Huh?" You muttered immediately. "But it was never awkward or anything like that." Your mind raced as you attempted to remember every interaction with Gayoung. Besides her nervousness and odd schedule, you could not pinpoint a moment that actually felt awkward.

"For you." Gayoung responded.

Rendered speechless, you were looking into the depth of her eyes, full of an indescribable emotion. Gayoung bit her lip and adjusted her glasses before opening her mouth as if she was going to speak—nevertheless, she took a step forward. The realization dawned on you that Gayoung wanted to leave. It seemed like a paradox—she had messaged you because she wanted to talk, yet, before any conversation happened, she was already trying to leave. She slipped her hands into her pockets and began walking—in an attempt to not let her leave, you instinctively reached out, placing your hands gently on her shoulders. 

"Gayoung." You pleaded, maintaining your grip on her shoulders. "You can't just leave."

“Why?” She said sharply. “Give me a valid reason, and I'll stay.”

"I simply asked you a question. It's strange how defensive you are. Is my presence truly that irritating to you? If it is, we can maintain the same routine, but just be honest with me." You expressed. "Chocol, just tell me the truth, I promise I won't be upset."

“You don't irritate me." She mumbled almost under her breath.

"It confuses me." You admitted, realizing you had been unintentionally squeezing her shoulders, and you stopped applying pressure. "You still help me with my homework and make me breakfast, yet you seem so distant—what's so wrong about me that you don't want to see me?" You stopped looking at Gayoung, as now you were feeling vulnerable. “What changed?” 

Gayoung delicately laid her hands on top of yours, fingers intertwining, causing a subtle pressure on her shoulders. As you stared at your and Gayoung's hands, a wave of emotions hit you, and at that moment, it felt as though your roles had reversed, and now, you were the one needing to avoid her. She held her silence for a moment, and in that pause, your attention shifted to the cool touch of her rings and the way her gaze lingered upon you, a subtle and slightly crooked smile appearing on her lips. The combination overwhelmed you—this was too much. 

"Should I tell you the truth?" She asked, not bothering to wait for your response before continuing. "Now that I think about it, if that's what you want, I'll be honest, pretty." Despite the sharpness in her words, the use of that nickname caught you off guard. It had been so long since she last called you that, but it still had the same effect on you. 

As she spoke, memories clouded your mind—memories when she was not anxious around you, when she could make you feel nervous in an entirely different way. Initially, when you first met her, she was playful, making you laugh with her jokes and comments, and her flirty and overconfident personality created a distinct dynamic. Right now, it was as if Gayoung was reverting to the person you first met. 

"Gayoung." You called out her name. "Be honest, then."

She gently squeezed your hands before letting them go. As a response, you released your grip on her shoulders, taking a step back, your back meeting your dresser as you gave her some space. Gayoung did the same, maintaining a small distance between you.

"First, let me apologize." She began. "I didn't want to be mean—I was just frustrated."

"Don't apologize." You whispered, a subtle worry settling in your stomach. Apologies seemed insignificant compared to the desire to hear what Gayoung had to say. "Please, just say it." You pleaded. "Why are you avoiding me?"

Her eyes fixed on you. "Well, I suppose I've got nothing to lose in telling you." She let out a dry chuckle—before tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

Her hands found their place on your waist, Gayoung’s fingertips barely touching the skin your crop top revealed—an involuntary smile appeared on your lips, as a response to the unexpected affection. Perhaps, at this moment, the words you had dreamed to hear from her were on the brink of being spoken. Only a few minutes had passed, yet an overwhelming silence surrounded the space—it was as if Gayoung was playing a deliberate game, making you wait before talking—every passing second felt like an eternity.

Her eyes continued analyzing you, studying every subtle reaction you made. "The moment we met, I too, believed we'd be inseparable." She revealed. "And that was my mistake."

Your brows furrowed as you tried to understand the ambiguity of the term 'her mistake.' Without saying a word, you allowed her to lead the conversation, recognizing her perceptiveness—it did not take long for her to answer the unspoken question lingering in the air.

"I called it a mistake because every moment spent with you made me want to give you all my time, all my attention, everything." Gayoung confessed, smiling. "I thought of you every second, eagerly expecting to come here just to see you, accompanying you everywhere, buying you your favorite treats, and listening to every word you said."

As she expressed these feelings, a flood of memories came to your mind, making you want to go back to the past to relive the experiences now missed. Her pause carried a certain vulnerability, evident in the slight glistening of her now softer eyes.

She took a deep breath. "I realized I was falling for you the night we were supposed to stay up all night watching movies." 

Your gaze met hers, the revelation was not entirely shocking, yet hearing her say it aloud and not in your dreams, made it surreal.

"I remember it clearly. You picked the movie excitedly, midway through, you placed your head on my shoulder, and I wrapped my arm around you. I was so nervous you'd notice my heartbeat." Gayoung recalled. "Then, I noticed you had fallen asleep. I didn't want to move, fearing you might wake up. I hesitated even to lie down on your bed; in my mind, it felt too weird for two friends. My mind raced with questions like 'What if you woke up and found me practically cuddling with you?'"

Drawing closer, Gayoung gently squeezed your waist, and your gaze softened as you looked at her. She seemed entangled in the uncertainties of 'what ifs' and you only wished she had told you how she felt that day.

"I couldn’t sleep that night. I remember when you woke up, mentioning I was up early. I hadn’t even fucking slept." Gayoung chuckled at her remembering the situation. "Throughout the night, I couldn't stop thinking about how much I fucking liked you, how pretty you looked every time, especially when you wore my clothes, and how considerate and caring you are. I began contemplating how I would even tell you."

"Chocol, why didn't you tell me?" You asked, now placing a hand on her back.

"Because I was, and am, stupid." She spoke. "I was scared, so afraid you'd reject me or not want to live with someone who had feelings for you."

As she melted into your touch, it became obvious how much she needed the comfort of your embrace. "Hey, don't say you're stupid." You reassured Gayoung. 

"I started avoiding you on a day when I couldn't stop thinking about how much I craved your touch. When I got to the dorm, you hugged me, saying how much you had missed me, and I lazily hugged you back. Remember?" Gayoung said, and you nodded. "It broke my heart because I felt too much for you, and I couldn't confess it. So, I started arriving late every day—I didn't even drive around the city; I just stayed at the library until they kicked me out or in the parking lot, and every time I opened the door and saw you asleep, my heart raced, and I felt guilty."

Gayoung held you even closer, and you moved your hand to her hair, letting it lose itself in her orange locks.

"I feel stupid because I made you feel bad. You obviously noticed I was avoiding you. I couldn't keep it up anymore, so I still left your breakfast ready because it was the only way I could show you I still cared for you without direct contact." Gayoung confessed. "The moment you asked me why I was never in the dorm, it weighed me down because I knew I couldn't lie to you for long."

"Chocol, look at me." You insisted, and she slightly pulled away, just enough to see you. "You should have just told me."

"I couldn't be-" She began, but you cut her off this time.

"I like you too, silly." You admitted with a smile. "The moment I met you for the first time, I almost screamed, I had no idea how I was going to survive being your roommate. Gayoung, you were always attentive, attractive, caring, and sweet- of course, I was going to fall for you too."

Gayoung felt a bit foolish. As it suddenly became very obvious that, of course, you liked her too. How could you not?

"How didn't you notice? I always craved your touch too. I wanted to hold your hand, hug you, and be as close to you as I could. Remember how nervous I got when I had to sit on your lap at Yeni's party?" You giggled.

"Now I've noticed." Gayoung admitted with a laugh. "Just now. Yeni always told me she knew you liked me too, but I never believed her. Damn, I should have listened."

She tenderly placed her hand on your cheek, gently tracing circles before tilting her head enough to make direct eye contact. Your mind was captivated by her pretty lips, and it was evident that she, too, was fixated on yours.

Gayoung got closer, her warmth enveloping you. "Can I?" She asked.

"Can you?" You playfully responded, and she laughed. "Of course you can."

Gayoung closed the gap between you, drawing close to your lips. Her lips barely brushed against yours—she wanted to savor the moment. The kiss was soft and slow, it perfectly reflected Gayoung's feelings. At that moment, held in her embrace, you realized how much you wanted this. 

She pulled back, smiling, revealing the happiness that rushed within her. She gave you a quick kiss before hugging you. "Fuck, I adore you so much." Gayoung whispered in your ear.

"Then, kiss me again." You said. "Kiss me every time you think of me."

"If I did that, I would never stop." She replied before kissing you again. The way she held you, made you feel like she viewed you as a porcelain doll, Gayoung was so careful. "Maybe I want you to kiss me when you think of me too." She teased.

"I'm grateful we could clear this up." You whispered.

"Me too." Gayoung said, giving you a small peck on the forehead. "Oh, and by the way..." She chuckled.

"What happened?" You curiously asked.

"Mr. Parra is going to give you a 100." She said. "I hope at least."

"Huh?" You muttered, confused. What did Mr. Parra have to do with you and Gayoung? Why did that old man matter right now?

"I finished your essay for you when you left me alone." Gayoung admitted, and you jokingly slapped her shoulder.

"So, while I was nearly having an existential crisis outside, you were writing my essay?" You laughed. "You're crazy."

"I just wanted to help you with that, and I needed to occupy my mind while I thought about how I was going to speak to you." She confessed.

You gave her a kiss on the cheek, then separated from her, walking to sit at your desk. Gayoung placed her hands on your shoulders and leaned down to rest her head atop yours.

"I'm going to double-check it, thank you." You said, reading where you had stopped writing.

You couldn't see her, but she was smiling. "You're welcome, pretty."

"Gayoung, just one more thing." You muttered. "Promise me that when I wake up, you're going to be here, please."

She let her head fall on your shoulder, leaning against your ear. "Of course, my doll." She whispered. "But, you won't have to worry about that—my arms will be wrapped around you all night until we wake up."

[hii-hawaiiu]

resolutions

[hii-hawaiiu]

AINT NO WAYY ITS SO CUTEE HES SUCH A DUMB BLONDE???

he was stupid after all...

thats romance.

merry christmas!!!! I was thinking recently I don't just draw for fun very much anymore, so I put some time aside as a christmas gift for me.

[hii-hawaiiu]

[hii-hawaiiu]

i cannot explain it but these all have the same vibes

[hii-hawaiiu]

Found this and I swear there's no image better fitted to describe my drinking experience