#His wallpaper did have flowers and he studied those things

[lesbianraskolnikov]

trying to think accurately to the crime and punishment backgrounds and what not there would be floral patterns everywhere wouldnt there. ohh... that would make a funny contrast to our dear little rodya

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Gold

This is my fic for outsiders week day two!

*********

Cherry used to love gold.

The frame on the mirror in the bathroom was wrought gold, and it wreathed her freckled face each morning when she brushed her teeth, red hair tumbling past her shoulders, cheeks rosy with childhood. The accents in the living room wallpaper were tiny golden flowers and she used to stare at them when she was little and pretend she was a fairy while she sat between dad and her older brother Leon while one of them read her a bedtime story. more often than not it was dad, reading her some old legal textbook ishe never understood- he always said age was no excuse for idiocy, and made sure both his children kept their manners sharp and their minds sharper. If it was good enough for him to read, he always said, it was good enough for her to hear- but sometimes, Dad would light his cigar and hold her on his lap and Leon would read her fairytales instead, stories of mermaids, princesses, and dragons and she’d feel like the luckiest little girl in the whole world, a princess in her own story. Those nights Leon would carry her to her room, the hallway illuminated from the soft golden glow of the lamps mom loved to collect from all over the world, the ones dad always brought home for her when he was done his travelling for work. 

In the mornings, the gold trim on Leon’s letterman jacket would glint in the buttery sunshine as he ruffled her hair and ran out the door, always late for something in a way that drove dad crazy. Cherry never minded when he ran away early though, because then she and mom would have breakfast together, a precious few minutes Cherry had Elyse Valance all to herself- a precious commodity indeed. More often than not, dad would be at work before Cherry was roused to get ready for school, but mom was always there, makeup flawless but her sleep clothes still on, flowing golden hair sleek and shiny. She’d pour Cherry a cup of orange juice and smooth her copper curls, and they’d gossip about anything and everything until it was time for Cherry to catch the bus. Mom would wave at her from the steps, bathed in the golden glow of the early morning sunshine, and people would stop and stare, the way they always did when mom was around, because Cherry’s mom was the prettiest lady anyone in Tulsa had ever seen. 

Yes, Cherry used to love gold. Before.

Such days, of soft gold evenings and warm gold mornings, of stories and smiles and the naive, childish belief that nothing would ever change, are long gone.

Leon’s football jacket now lives in her closet, instead of thrown haphazardly over the back of a chair or on a random doorknob, and she wears it on the days when she misses him most, now he’s away working on the other side of the country after graduating uni and marrying the only girl he claims ever fit right for him. He calls- he’s good about calling, always has been, is still her hero at almost eighteen the same as he was when she was six- but it’s different now that he has a wife and a baby on the way and no need for the little sister he left behind in a house that’s too big without him. He’d never forsake her, but he has left her, and maybe it’s the natural order of things but it still feels all sorts of wrong that her protector is no longer around to do any sort of protecting. 

Gone are the evenings when dad would smoke his pipe in the family room. Now, she’s lucky if he knocks on her door to make sure she finished her homework. Instead, he now stays locked behind the door of his study, drowning under the weight of his ever growing law firm and his inability to face the demons that invaded their home, leaving destruction in their wake.  She stops sometimes, at her most foolish, when she walks past and the lamplight glints off the gold of the doorknocker- a beacon tempting fate- but she knows that any attempt to reach him only ever draws him further away.

She only ever sighs and keeps going, tired of fighting a battle no one else can even see. 

Mom doesn’t wait for her in the mornings anymore. Instead, Cherry pours a glass of water and cup of coffee while she makes up a breakfast tray before knocking softly and creeping into her parents’ room. Mom is usually asleep, once peachy skin sickly pale, her golden hair dried lank and brittle ever since she first got sick and the doctors said other than slowing things down there was nothing they could do. Cherry wakes her gently, spoons yogurt into her mouth, coaxes her into swallowing her pills, taking each of her mother’s weak thanks and praises and wishing she still had the strength to talk and laugh like she used to, like the whole world was a playground made just for her. 

The tiny gold earings mom’s day nurse wears glint in the sunlight as Cherry passes her on the way out the door. Mrs.Matthews is a lovely woman but Cherry hates her, hates her kindness and her understanding and the fact that they need her. Hates that she gets to see everything wrong with Cherry’s once perfect, unbroken family. 

The sun will shine, harshly golden, burning her eyes as she drives herself to school. 

Cherry used to love gold. But not anymore. 

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

part i, autonomy in your coherence | c.g

With something like time that runs round with the world — ignoring it’s inhabitants and stealing things that you’d hidden away for safekeeping — you’ve taken up the hobby of art, furiously sketching faces that are six-feet under.

The skill is beautiful and horrific all the same, watching like a person with amnesia as the portraits begin to lose their depth, the freshness, the personality that came free with who you’d chosen to print on the page.

You’ve forgotten your feelings for Carl, because he didn’t feel the same.

You just wished you did a better job at it.

WARNINGS: mentions of death, suicide ideation

this is a continuation of watch you burn away and i recommend you read that, first! this is also part of a series, so here is the masterlist if you need it!

(cross-posted on ao3!)

Your father once told you he had a patient that died from heartbreak.

“Your heart can’t really break, though, right?” You’d said. A doctor for a father and a laboratory technician for a mother made you more than aware of things, seeing through the myths and pretty white lies of figures like Santa and the tooth fairy.

(They had gone through with it anyway, because although their child knew, it was a gateway to normality in such a busy home.)

Your father scratched his chin, unsure how to respond. “My patient had died from a broken heart, though the process wasn’t as simple as it’s term name. A broken heart — the nonliteral meaning — can be the cause and the domino toppling to many things that could lead to death.”

“Like what?” You’d said with little admission into the conversation, having been flicking through a novel you’d picked up a while back (which featured a one eyed pirate and his partner who’d ended up dying in the end — not that you knew, yet, at least.)

“I don’t know, er,” Your father swirled his coffee lightly, gesturing wildly with his free hand, “Mental health issues, for one. Erratic actions, depression, a lost sense of self. Obsession.”

“Huh,” You muttered, looking up at your father for the first time. “A lost sense of self? Really?”

“What is your father teaching you?” Your mother said, stepping into the kitchen with a questioning expression. The conversation ended there, without so much as a thought after.

You wish you pried your father for further answers. What you’d give to get the workaholic of a man to dump his duo psychology medical major thoughts unto you with little care.

The knowledge would be gold in your time of need, when pulling and pushing distance further between you was like venturing through a field of thorns.

(Perhaps you just missed your parents. But that couldn’t be it, right? They’d died and you had lived, their blood on your hands and the gun in your fingers, their glazed over eyes and your own that nearly matched, cold and willing without a drop of emotion.)

But you’d gotten through it for him— without him. Without anyone, quietly harboring scratches and bleeding from the field with little effort.

If someone asked, you would tell them with full and honest confidence that you harboured no more attachments. You were a naive teenager, running through your feet and over yourself for something that was just a crush.

Crushes are — in their whole singularity and purpose —  temporary.

They are brief, and momentarily something that causes ripples and waves in your thoughts, just the slightest mention or faint sight makes you detour down a road of sickly sweet dreams and fantasies.

He was first love (like? You didn’t love him, no, it was a crush and it was something for the unattainable and the inappropriate — in which with full truth, he was.) so you poured the honey glazed remembrances and rose coloured lenses over your memories, because he was a first love, and you know that those were cracks in the heart, growing vines and constricting the part that was him — the part that’d always, always be there, without a doubt.

(However much you didn’t want it to be.)

The leaves and the venomous flowers that sprout in decaying grooves come with age, and you are older now.

You bear fresh scars that litter your entire being and wear newly buried bones of people who were once not just that, the dirt still sitting in the crevices of your nails, and you seem to forget their voices with each passing day.

With something like time that runs round with the world — ignoring it’s inhabitants and stealing things that you’d hidden away for safekeeping — you’ve taken up the hobby of art, furiously sketching faces that are six-feet under.

The skill is beautiful and horrific all the same, watching like a person with amnesia as the portraits begin to lose their depth, the freshness, the personality that came free with who you’d chosen to print on the page.

More and more, the faces look like reference art rather than a taken from life picture, which was all telling them to sit still and watching their eyes crinkle at the edges when you show them the result, voices echoing and asking if they could have it.

Everyday, as it has become a peevish habit like biting your nails or obsessively reminding yourself your stove is off, you draw pictures of everyone.

If you are close enough with them, you ask the subject to sit and model for you, analyzing every breath and laugh they take when you crack a joke or engage them in meaningless conversation just to see how the light hits their brows when they raise, the shadows pooling in their aging lines.

Everyday, you wish and hope and even fucking pray that their portraits continue to be something of anxious routine, rather than trying to dump their image out of your head and onto paper so you can see their faces one more time.

His image seems to change with each moment he sits in for you, once a face with two piercing blues, then a patch and eyes that looked at the dusty wooden floor, and later, someone who looks at you straight, something that told you he was a survivor, who bore his battles proudly, the scar on the right of his face sitting ruggedly and bewitchingly.

You draw him, exactly the way you see him, and when you show him the picture, he laughs, and says “You made me look too pretty,” and you shake your head, “It’s exactly the way I see you.”

You do her, too, upon request. When she sits, you draw her almost like it was professional, drawing the curvature of her face with exact precision, intense shading, marking the features she holds. The dip in her nose, the straight of her hair.

(You often forget who you’re drawing in these moments, and when you step away from the canvas you’re hit with whiplash. It’s subconscious, the way you do these things to please him, wanting to see so clearly how his face spreads delicately with delight.)

It takes a little while for you to convince Ron. When you first propose the drawing, he gives you a confused face, before walking off to do shooting practice. He’s gotten better with the gun over the years, and doesn’t respond when you tell him you know why.

(His mother didn’t come out of it alive, and his brother didn’t come back without harm. The younger boy was alive, but would grow up with only his brother by his side and one less limb to account for.)

The second time, he makes a snide comment, albeit with no bite, about how ‘you must be a horrible artist, to ask me of all people to model for you.’

The third time, you’ve dragged him to the small office you makeshifted for the drawings in the garage. He studies every slit of paper you’ve ripped out of your book, the unfinished sketches or yet-to-be painted canvases piling up against the walls. Complete works sit proudly on your wall, displayed for the world to see.

His hands hover over the paints sitting on your desk, charcoal, dirt, sticks, paintbrushes, handmade dyes, wallpaper cut-outs.

“Why?” Ron says curiously.

“‘Why?’ what?” You echo, fiddling with a fork you grabbed from the kitchen, splaying out a thick lather combination of beet dye and cement onto your finger to check the consistency.

“Why do you draw these portraits? I get the others because,” He says, leaving the words “because they’re dead” hanging in the air between you two in mutual and regretful acknowledgement, “But you draw these everyday. You drag Carl and Enid off, or just sit on the benches and draw Maggie and Glenn knee-deep in the dirt.”

You sigh a dreadful breath, wiping the rest of the beet-cement mix onto the page with the pad of your fore-finger. “We’ll forget them one day.”

He looks at you, unblinking. The dead, the gone, and the soon to be long forgotten only existed in your memories, in your words, and when the time came that the world had moved on and stopped, they would cease. Their whole memory relied on the living, nothing about them able to reach and grasp life on their own. Memory was all that was left, and it was all you could do to wash away regret.

“And the rest?”

You bite your tongue hesitantly, your movements rigid, “You see their portraits. Everyday they get less and less coherent. When — when time comes , these drawings will be the only thing getting me by.” You whispered.

The ball had dropped. Coping and grief in it’s big and ugly form, preying on your conscious hungrily, taking shelter in your largest worries. Claws sunken in your flesh, the monster was a thing that felt like it would never go away, because it would loom right alongside death itself, watching and waiting for the moment they’d deemed someones time to have been enough.

(It would never be enough. Enough meant they’d pop in from next door and ask to borrow something, enough meant they’d swipe dirt across your face to make you angry — enough meant they would come in everyday and sit for their portrait once more.)

A creaking on the floorboard caught your attention, eyes watching as Ron’s feet walk to the corner of the room, before hopping onto the wooden seat with little effort.

“I’m not going. I never will. But — do it anyway. I’d… like to see how I look on paper.” He said cheekily, picking up a thin pencil off your desk and handing it out to you.

So you did. Seconds turned to minutes and minutes snowballed into hours in the dim lighting of the garage, asking the blond to turn his body, stretch his head and make different expressions, fulfilling and destroying the little worm of worry sitting in your head.

When you’re done with the charcoal, turning it around for Ron to see and to inspect, he asks, “What about you?”

“And what about me?” You say. His questions never make sense without further discussion, but the boy always has to wait for you to pry and ask him to elaborate.

“You don’t have any drawings of yourself. You’re the artist, the photographer, the one who makes these things that will stay longer than the memories and the words — so what about you?”

It’s rare that Ron delves into his emotions and the things he really means, but when he does, it’s something that stays, for a long while.

“I,” You didn’t have an answer for it. You weren’t one to do a self-portrait, it not being the same as having someone to sit and take from. “I don’t want to.” You finished simply, an ice cold realization coming to reality in you.

“Why?” He says the same words as before, but the words hold a heavy weight.

“I don’t know.”

You knew.

Maybe one day, you’d wished that you’d wash away like seafoam on the beach. You wouldn’t leave a single portrait behind of you, and the memories and the words were left mum behind his lips, because you knew how he got in a loss.

Quiet and unfeeling, it was so selfish of you that you’d counted on how he got in that state to leave you behind, neglecting you like the fruits of your memories you’d never get to bear.

Ron’s gaze bore into you like he knew exactly what you were thinking, telepathically taking in every thought you’d conveyed at your dispense.

“You should.” Is all he says, before stepping off the wooden stool and out the door.

What was wrong with you? You feel so… entirely foolish. Obsolete. Embarrassing.

You walked past the remnants of those who were gone everyday, obsessively creating canvas over canvas of them and the only thing you could think was that you’d wish to position yourself beside them?

This world was catching up to you, and fast, but you’d just have to run faster than it could.

[allandoflimbo]

Ashens (Part 18)

Summary: She falls in love with Bucky Barnes from the moment she sees him. Bucky, still in love with a woman from his past, hates Y/N and plans to make her life miserable. To both their dismay, they are assigned together to go undercover into The Capitol for six months. There, they develop a heartbreaking friend with benefits agreement. Dystopian. Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 17,000 (I’M SO SORRY) the first half of this story is flashback. The second half is the present.

Chapter Warning: Sex, twice. Sad Sex. Filthy sex. SMUT. VERY strong Language. Bucky and Reader will be very toxic in this chapter. It might be triggering if you’ve ever been in an emotionally abusive relationship. 

Rating: M for Mature, E for explicit. Enemies to lovers trope, sharing a bed trope, friends with benefits trope, temporarily unrequited love, heavy and angry sex, heavy on the angst, and very strong language.

Full Masterpage |

There’s an imminent smell of old wood garnish and pumpkin spice escaping a bright orange glow that flickered in the background.

The odor was extremely strong, trickling through the thick and heavy air of the twelve by twelve room. There was a draft coming in through the window and it continued to help push the flame directly towards the center of the room- the scent marking anything in its direct path with a faint reminder of the close arrival of winter.  

Though the glow of a candle was soothing, to many it was anything but pleasant; scented candles were a new thing and it was said to be something for the upcoming future generation. 

The idea behind it was that it carried an artificial smell that held a memory you could carry along with you wherever you went. Its point was to remind you of where you were or what you wanted to be feeling, come the fitting setting. This specific pumpkin candle was to remind us all that it was a season of festivity and gathering, and much-needed warmth. The other obvious reason being that pumpkin was delicious. 

If you weren’t eating it,  you might as well be smelling it.

To most people, it made no sense. Why would you want to smell something so delicious and not be able to physically consume it? It was a pleasant odor coming from an artificial chemical, completely contrary to what is expected. Put simply, it was an empty promise.

One more strong whiff of pumpkin, mixed together with the cozy sound of a crackle of fire, he blinks and Bucky is brought out of his daze. He’s now entirely environmentally aware of his surroundings and sounds coming from additional places come into his perspective. 

Within a moment’s relapse, he chooses again to regain focus on the other specific sounds aside from the antagonizing fake fire, gazing his eyes over the pleasant words in front of him.

To his dismay, they don’t sink in. He is distracted by the harsh rain pellets and the distant undeviating sound of a honking Durant. Unlike the candle, those sounds didn’t stand out to him as empty promises, but instead as a reminder of the harsh reality of the outside world. 

His strong and confident fingers appeared to skim the yellow worn-out pages of his book on their own accord; his eyes still looking, but not necessarily seeing. Looking closer, with shoulders painfully slumped, he squinted his blue eyes. The words blurred into one and he began blinking desperately and shifting in his seat. He tried to regain his proper vision, not enjoying the sensation of not knowing or seeing what he was trying oh so hard to understand. 

His right thumb gave a slight unconfident tremble as he tried to pick up the next page. After a couple of failed attempts, the paper not obeying (most likely due to his careless attempt- it’s not like he was actually reading it),  he sighs in aggravation. 

He closes his copy of This Side of Paradise harshly between his hands, bringing it to his face. He bounces his right leg uncontrollably up and down as he tapped his pointer finger on the cover of the worn-out novel, resting one elbow on each knee.

It was a nervous tick he picked up somewhere along the way. 

The walls of the study room seemed to want to envelope him warmly, as if trying too hard to show comfort and security. There was an eeriness that made him constantly tremble and not feel comfortable at all. Maybe it was the hideous wallpaper, or maybe it was that disgusting odor of varnish from the freshly repainted wooden chair that he smelled when he first came in and could not stop thinking about. 

There was no longer a sound of a honking Durant, and the rain seemed to dim down drastically as he continued to look into the distance. He wondered if it was the December air leaking through the slightly ajar window that made the tightness in his chest grow cold and frigid.

Aggravated, he placed the book down next to him on the side table, avoiding the waiting and apprehensive eyes staring at him. They had been staring at him for what felt like hours but had been only mere minutes. 

He knew he was a strong young man, he'd always tried to be because that's how he was raised back in his little home town of Shelbyville, Indiana. And if asked about it, he would speak of it with great confidence.

When his mother passed away, his father had been the one to make sure to teach him that nothing like her death would be strong enough to tear him down. That instead, it would, and should, be a motivation for him to be a better person each and every time. He would need to transfer that hurt and despair into physical action. 

But clearly, it had to come with a price and tremendous hard work. Things like that, non material things like emotional determination, could not be bought. If you wanted to be great, you had to work to be great. If you wanted to be strong, you'd have to work for it. He’d have to push through all the heartache and pain to reach that level of excellence that he knew his father wanted to see in him.

That is that natural characteristic they’re born with: soldiers.

It was well known, Bucky Barnes was a military brat. His father was always well respected at Camp Lehigh. They'd say back at camp that he was much like his father: loyal, headstrong, patriotic, and obtained strong morals. It was practically in his blood to be a fighter. A fighter for the good in people, the kind, and the innocent. It was his duty, and when he'd grow up to put his own two feet in combat boots himself, he would be prepared to take on any mission he was told. He would be more than capable of doing so. 

They all promised him this and he himself grew up believing it. 

But this, this of all things, was not something he was prepared for.

Because he's realized -at this exact moment- that his entire life he has lost almost everything and gained absolutely nothing in return. He'd put himself out there so many times to try and do the better good, from giving his last twenty five cents (that he initially wanted to use to buy flowers for the new pretty girl he met) to the little boy he saw walking down Broadway with no shoes.

He excelled in every class he'd ever taken because he knew it was good for him because it would make his father proud.

The shadow that belonged to the eyes and voice from earlier sat down in front of him behind a large desk that had a plaque. 

It read ‘Director' in golden ink that had begun to fade from years of scratching and unkindly picking by kids that faced much less traumatic sentences than this.

Bucky's eyes lifted for the first time in what felt like a long time. He could feel the strain on his heavy eyelids as he did so. He regretted it the moment he looked up, because that's when reality seemed to have punched him directly in the gut. His eyes swelled and he blinked away quickly, not letting emotion get the best of his masculinity. 

He'd refused to let a tear out.

But the look of pity on the man's face is what did it for him, it made him want to completely fall apart. He didn't like being looked at that way. He didn't like being the victim, the way it felt. He hated it with a passion. He wanted to run out of there and hide himself away for at least one small moment and cry. 

"I'm so sorry." 

That was the response he exactly did not want to hear. Bucky let out a shaky breath and ran a hand through his short hair as the words rang in his ears like ticking bombs. Again, he didn't like the pity. 

He tried to deny it and shake his head back and forth to himself but all that did was drive tears to trickle out of his blue eyes. 

He knew this would pass with time, but being weak was not the reaction he needed to put on display. He was a soldier for heaven’s sake. No matter how destroyed his life seemed to be getting, he couldn't let it show.

Bucky cleared his throat, making sure his voice would sound strong before he would begin to speak. 

And it was.

"It's not your fault.”

Twenty-one. That's how old Bucky Barnes was when his father passed away.

+  +  +

They were both laughing so hard that she started getting tears, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the laughter or the bitter cold. They were both so caught up in the events of the night neither noticed how cold it really was. 

Once their laughter dwelled down, she continued to stare at him in total admiration. He was something else  for sure. She wanted to feel his arm around her again. She looked down at his freezing hand and took it into her cold one.

“Tell me about you, James.”

He smiled when she looked back up and he gave her a tight squeeze.

“First, tell me what a fine dame like you is doin here in Brooklyn.” A playful smile plays on her lips, but it’s a rhetorical questions so he continues, “What do you wanna know?" 

She smiles even wider and this time it reaches her eyes, “Everything. I want to know everything about you by tomorrow mornin’.”

The fact that she suggested spending the night with him made him gulp. 

He looks down at her lips and nods slowly.

He followed up by telling her that the apartment he had rented out for the next few weeks was just a couple of blocks away. On the walk there she had questioned what he meant by rent for a couple of weeks to which he responded with that he would explain there, but that they should get warm first. 

When they arrived, his door ended up being three floors up. His dingy beat-up door made her smile inside. He gave off a classy, rich, stuck up vibe, but really he was simple and not much for being out there. She liked that he seemed so original.

He inserted the key into the normal door lock and bolt lock and opened the door for her to let her in first. She stepped into the “foyer”, if it could even be called that, and took a look around. It was more like a two by two feet space. She walked in the rest of the way and took a look around. It was basically a small studio, but a lot smaller. It was one room, inside there was a tiny kitchen on the left corner, a window that looked out to another brick wall, and to the right a metal bed with a white blanket.

But it was made, military style.

He walks over to his record player and places the needle gently down on the vinyl. If You Only Knew starts playing quietly. 

He looks over his shoulder at her and notices her facial expression.

“Yeah, sorry” he chuckled dropping his keys by his iron stove, “I know it’s not much, but it’s temporary. You should’ve seen my old place before I left for training.”

He catches himself when he says it but it’s too late. Her head snaps to his direction and her face holds an emotion that he can’t really pin point. He can’t tell if it’s fear or surprise. He swallows hard and tries to direct the conversation to a different direction. 

He curses himself in his head for his stupid slip up. He goes to the far kitchen and opens the cupboard, “I got some cookies, uhm,” he doesn’t know what to say with her staring at him like that. He closes the cupboard and runs a hand through his brown hair. It’s silent. 

It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. A car honks outside after it runs through a puddle and Ella’s voice is haunting. 

“You’re in the army.”

He’s caught off guard and his eyebrow raises at her voice. He looks at her. It wasn’t fear or surprise that she had felt when he said that, it was sadness. It was the one feeling he was afraid she’d feel, it was the reason why he didn’t want to tell her just yet. But it was too late, she knows now. 

He nods. 

He sees visible tears build up in her eyes. He doesn’t want this, he wanted this to be happy. Just a half hour ago they were laughing and now she’s in his apartment, shattered. She nods quickly and crosses her arms across her chest. 

She was different and he knew it the moment he saw her. Any normal girl would love to be with a soldier, but not in this case. Not when it was something like this. 

She looks at his bed and his window and shakes her head. This was a damn pit stop. 

The made bed revealed just how loyal he was to what he had signed up for and she knew there was no backing out. But he was perfect, she couldn’t lose him. She had to at least stay for the long hall, she thought. It wouldn’t last forever anyway. 

Her eyes meet his again. The tears had been blinked away and evaporated and her strong satire was back. 

He takes off his suit jacket and drapes it over the sink, sighing. He had been waiting patiently for her response. Whatever she said would ever make or break this, and for God’s sakes if there’s anything he didn’t want to do it was break this. 

“How long?” Her tone was strong. 

“How long till I leave?” He was a bit confused by the question.

She nodded. 

Bucky felt his heart sink. It wasn’t long. She would not like the answer. It was not good. She concluded this herself by his delayed answer and his stare at the floor beneath him. 

She let out an exhausted sigh and a click of her tongue as she turned away from him. Now she was angry.

“Five days.” 

They’re silent, standing there letting reality sink in. Minutes pass by. She takes a seat on his bed and takes off her coat. He watches her every move intently, wondering if she would decided to stay for the long haul or run out of his cheap room he dared call an apartment. 

“Like I said. I want to know you.”

He heart soars and he smiles. He re opens the cupboard and takes out a box of cookies. He fills up two jars with milk and hands one of them to her as he practically dances over to her. He sits criss crossed on the bed. She chuckles at how innocent he looks just sitting there like that in his dress shirt and suspenders, like a kid.

It’s awkward at first, trying to sit cross cross with a long dress on, but eventually she manages by pulling her dress up around her thighs. Bucky blushes at this. She brings him out of the moment.

“So what are you doing in Brooklyn?" 

He smirks, “I live here, Doll.” She gives him a confused look. He takes a deep breath and decides to start from the beginning, “I moved here when I was a teen. My father was in the army since we used to live back in Indiana. I used to go with him to camp, I loved everything about it. The respect those men held, the strong mentality they had, there’s was so much about what they were doing that made me see there was something greater to live for. To make this country better for us, so we can live and be peaceful and happy. There are way too many nasty people out there who don’t deserve to breathe our air. We are good people and I want to save the good people. It’s something serious, putting your life like that on the line. Unfortunately not all are willing.” 

Daisy smiles at him talking about his love for the military. She remembers her mother’s words at that moment. 

It really was in his heart, his love for humanity, “it’s in my blood, just like dad. I did training in New Jersey where he was stationed.” Mentions of his father makes him trail off for a second and Daisy notices. She places her hand on his, “and then they sent me back here for some additional work just until our physical forms go through to see who gets accepted. Who does leave in five days.” 

Daisy perks at this, “So you’re not actually certain if you will leave?” 

Bucky chuckles to himself and looks down. He reaches for another cookie, “Doll, my dad was well respected on the forces. They raised me to do the same. They practically have my name already there ready for me. I know I’m not staying.” 

Daisy stays silent again. Bucky tosses the cookie back down and reaches for her cheek. She gasps and looks up at him, her blue eyes soft, “I’m not saying this to make this harder. I’m being honest with ourselves, because,” he looks at her eyes and then her lips. She swallows hard when she sees him looking there. Her heart starts to race in his chest as he moves in closer, “because I know all we have is five days and I want to make the most of it. I’ve only known you for a few hours but what I feel with you is something I know will last forever.” 

The moment he says this he feels like he’s just put his heart own on his sleeve. Something he has never done. There was no taking it back now. He’s never had a relationship like this before, he prays to God he didn’t just mess it up. He starts getting afraid when she doesn’t respond, she just stares up at him. His eyes swell up slightly and he wants to add that it’s okay if she didn’t feel the same. 

But No. he didn’t not want to lose this. So he slides his hand from her cheek even higher up the side of her head through her hair and watching her, “Please tell me you feel the same.” His voice is low and full of emotion. Hopeful.

She’s never felt this. This had to be the boy of her dreams, and now she felt like the one that was dreaming all over again. Just three hours ago she never even knew this man existed, but all of a sudden she felt like she’s known him all her life.

She moves in closer and watches his Adam’s apple bobble up. The proximity was too much to bear. He was too much, and yet she wanted more. She wanted him.

And she only had five days. They had five days. 

And they were going to make the most of it. 

The moment her lips crashed onto his was a moment he wouldn’t forget. The fire that exploded inside of him was a bright red flame and it burned through his heart. Instinctively, he brings his other hand up as well and slides it to the other side of her face. She slides her left hand up his thigh and he growls against her mouth, their tongues meeting for the first time. It was fast, hard, and needy.

He raises himself up onto his knees so he’s towering above her still criss-cross body. Her hand raises up higher up his thigh and he feels her delicate fingers reaching in his waist band. He growls against her mouth once more.

She uses his belt loop to bring his body downwards as she uncrosses her legs and lays herself down onto his bed. Bucky’s right leg drops down the side of the bed and accidentally kicks the glass over. They’re lips still stay connected and he’s bringing his right hand to the strap of her dress, and now Ella’s voice sounds like a goddamn melody. 

He’s about to pull her strap further down but he stops himself. 

He pulls away and they’re both breathing heavily, Daisy whimpers at the distance he puts between their lips. The sound makes him want to go back to what he was doing, but he stops himself. 

She’s about to question him when he places her strap back against her clavicle. He pats it down gently and the act makes her laugh. His lips are swollen and she kisses them one more time. He moans into her mouth. She pulls away and lets him speak. 

“I want to know you, too.” He says. 

“We will. We have five days.”

 +  +  +

Her legs had curled up against her chest as she laid on her side, a single finger making soft patterns against his chest. It moved up and down sharply as his breathing became affected by what her touch was doing to him. He had stared down at her finger and then grabbed it diligently. She watched silently as he used his right hand to unfold her twirling fingers and fold it with his, holding it against his body. 

She looked up at him incomplete awe, her eyes drifting down to his approaching lips. He dipped his head just slightly as he brushed his lips against hers. 

They had stayed up all night talking about their goals, and what they loved to do. Daisy was a simple, innocent,, young girl. She loved dancing and flowers and she also admired the simplicity of innocence. She grew up in a Christian household and her morals were up there. They both laughed together when she brought up the fact that she never would’ve had thought she’d be cuddled in bed with a man she met only hours before. 

They commented about their families, how Bucky’s little sister had been taken away from him not too far back, about his mother’s death. 

“What about your father?” She had asked. 

Bucky remained quiet as he stared up at her. She noticed his change in demeanor and her eyes squinted. Bucky let go of her hand and switched his position from on his side to on his back. He brought his leg up and folded his hands on his chest.

He felt her shift and lean against him. He looked over and saw her resting on her elbow, her left hand drifting up his neck and into his hair. She pulled on it slightly making him close his eyes. 

“James.” She whispered, pleadingly. He opened his eyes and looking into hers. 

“He passed away,” he could tell she was going to start saying condolences as her mouth opened but he beat her to it, “this morning.” 

He thought she was going to start giving him sympathy, he expected it. But instead he felt her rest her head on his sturdy chest. He was taken aback at first, but then smiled softly and took in a deep breath. He allowed his hand to snake in through her soft blonde hair.  

“You’ll get through this. You’re strong.” He swallowed as he felt her hand skim against his chest, feeling him. He didn’t want to push her into anything and was thankful that her hand just went to his waist, pulling his body closer to hers, “I can tell.”

“I want to be with you. And when I get back from war, I want to be with you again.” 

+  +

She knew she was taking a risk by inviting him over to her house, but she had wanted him to meet her family. Sure this was fast, but how long did they truly have together? She obviously remembered the stories her mother told her.

Underneath the anxiety, love, and happiness she felt as he helped her mom cut the carrots, she genuinely hoped her parents would love him, too.   

“How long have you known this boy, Daisy?” Her mom had asked over her shoulder as she washed some lettuce and tomatoes in some cold water in a bowl under the sink. Daisy bit her lip. Her mom noticed her hesitate, “ Daisy .” 

Her tone was judging and all too motherly. Daisy looked up and saw her mom giving her a glare that quickly told her that she didn’t like where this was going. Daisy felt defensive. 

“Momma, before you judge me, he’s an amazing gentleman and I fully trust him with everything,” she saw her mom shaking her head to herself and murmur something but the sound of the sink water drowned it out. Daisy got up exasperated and walked over to her mom, “Think about it, when was the last time I brought a boy home? You know I don’t bring just anyone. You are going to love him.” 

Her mom smiled and looked over at her, shutting off the water.

“You are lucky I’m me and not your dang fatha’, Daisy.” She washed two more tomatoes, “Do you?”

Daisy gaped at her, not really know how to respond to that. To be fully honest she didn’t really think about it. When it came out while she was cuddly with Bucky earlier that day, it was natural and she hadn’t thought twice about it. But it seemed to soon to tell, but yet not fully impossible. She’d never felt the way she felt that when she was with Bucky. She felt heat creep up into her cheeks and her mom started to smile. The moment was interrupted by a strong voice.

“Love who?” 

Both Daisy and her mother’s face fell at the heavy tone that washed over them like pure ice. Daisy’s eyes drifted up to her dad who was standing in the door way. He held a cigar in his right hand, his leather covered foot tapping away. He eyed them both, clearly he was eavesdropping and was not liking where this conversation seemed to have been going.

Daisy gulped. She looked down and fidgeted with her fingers. 

“A boy, daddy.”

“Daisy invited him for dinner.” Her mom added casually, draining the water out of the bowl with her hands. The silence was deafening. Her dad could tell she was avoiding his gaze. 

He chuckled maniacally as he tapped his cigar with his pointer fingers, some ashes tickling towards the freshly mopped floor. Daisy watched as if it were poison. Suddenly, she was very fearful.

“Is that so?” 

Daisy nodded, finally looking up. Her dad looked serious, territorial even. 

“Charles, quit scarin’ her. I hear he could be the one.” Her mom winked at her. 

Her dad squinted angrily, “The one? And I’m just now hearing about this kid?” He walked over to his wife and rubbed her back soothingly, still giving Daisy a disapproving look, “and did I just hear love?”

Daisy groaned in aggravation, running her hands through her curls, “Mom, stop that.” Daisy sighed as she wiped her hands on her little dress and walked back over to the stool that sat on the far side of the large kitchen, “he’s a great guy. Daddy, I know that, it’s why I invited him today.”

“I just don’t get why I’m not meeting this damn boy.” 

Daisy flinched at his tone, “Daddy, please.” 

“Then explain it to me!” 

Daisy dropped her face into her hands, “I was just worried about you meeting him because he’s not the typical guy you go for. But I do care about him, please, just give him a chance. He’s very sweet.”

Daisy practically felt her father roll his eyes. She looked up and saw a snarl on his face.

A soft knock on the door and Daisy immediately flew out of her seat to open it. Her dad made a comment to Daisy’s mother about agreeing to this in the background, but Daisy was now momentarily too excited to care. She took a deep breath as her hand wrapped around the doorknob. 

She opened it and the moment her eyes landed on him, her heart went soaring and she literally felt herself smile. All the anger and fear she felt before dissipated. His reaction was mirrored to hers, his pearly whites making her blush hard. His gorgeous eyes wrinkled at the sides as he smiled. He looked perfect in a soft black suit, underneath it is a  white dress shirt, but the top button undone. His hair was in a small quiff and shiny from his pomade.

She extended her hand out to take his in hers and pulled him inside playfully hard. They both giggled together, Bucky’s face leaning down to kiss the top of her cheek. She hadn’t realized how hard she really pulled him until he stood right in front of her, their fronts touching. She was blushing as he stared down at her face and then her lips. 

He tilted his head slightly and started to lean down, and her eyes drifted shut, when the moment was interrupted but a cough.

“So you must be the boy Daisy won’t stop going on about.” 

Bucky pulled back, red tainting his cheeks. At that moment he realized he had just been caught almost wanting to devour this woman’s daughter’s mouth right in front of her.  He stepped back bit and straightened out his back and cleared his throat. 

He brought his one hand across his chest and with the other he extended it out for a handshake. No longer lust in his eyes, he was now completely serious, his mission being to impress a high class family. Her mom smiled at how charming he was.

“Mrs Davis.” Bucky greeted with a firm shake and smile.

She could tell by his strong handshake that he had been raised well. She exchanged looks with Daisy, who clearly looked terrified and expectant of what her reaction to him would be. She looks back at Bucky.

“Daisy never mentioned your name.”

“James, mamn.”

“That’s a strong name.”

Everyone looked up to follow the voice. Charles stood there tall and brooding, another cigar in hand. Bucky stretched out his arm once more, too eagerly this time, “Please to meet you, Mr. Davis.”

Bucky waited as Charles stared down at Bucky’s hand, not taking it and clearly not wanting to anytime soon. Bucky stood there awkwardly, fear and rejection creeping into his guts. He slowly lowered his arm, Charle’s gaze not leaving his face.

“You live on the upper east side, too? What’s your Street? You’re dressed like a damn paper boy.”

Bucky’s face fell immediately and Daisy inwardly groaned. 

Bucky licked his lips nervously and then fixed his back to stand taller as if to appear powerful. There was no way he was going to let this man tear him down. 

“No, sir,” He hates that his voice is shaky. He gives Daisy a nervous side glance and then back to her dad, “I live in Brooklyn, sir.”

Her dad frowned and both Daisy and her mother knew this was going to go down fast.

“Brooklyn,” his tone was disapproving, “What do you do for a living, boy?”

Daisy took a step next to Bucky, “Dad, that’s enough.” 

Bucky frowned and realized Daisy hadn’t really told them close to anything about him. While he understood, he was now dreading the whole entire conversation that would go down. Him and Daisy shared a look before Barnes looked back up at Charles.

“I’m in the military, sir.”

Her dad raised an eyebrow as soon as the words left his lips, then a scoff. Daisy looked up to his her mother’s face fallen and sad. 

Bucky’s eyes darted between Daisy and her father, suddenly realizing that something that he said was not good.

“Sir, was something I said -“

“Daisy, tell me hows a boy who doesn’t have a real job suppose to be with my daughter? A goddamn soldier? Jesus.”

“For heaven’s sake, Daddy!”

“Charles, stop that!” 

Daisy’s mother’s angry voice made everyone go silent at once. Bucky felt small, wanting to fade away into the ground below him.  

Charle’s scoffed, tossing his cigar at Bucky’s beat up dress shoes. It was the best pair he owned and even those were not his best. He swallowed hard, trying to not feel small and sad.  

“I’m gonna get Jimmy and then we can eat.”

Bucky stared down at the cigar at his feet, his heart feeling heavy. “A goddamn soldier”. 

It replayed over and over in his head.

Suddenly, he felt a comforting hand on his back. He looked up and saw Daisy staring down at him, sad.

“Just a goddamn soldier, Daisy?” He motioned upwards with his hand. “What is this?”

Daisy looked down, “James, that’s my father, okay? If anything, let’s just be glad he didn’t kill you. He’s like that with everyone.” That actually did help Bucky feel slightly better as he stood up taller. Daisy’s hand reached up as she cupped his cheek, “And the soldier thing, he’s weird about that. I’m not sure why.”

Bucky stared at her for half a second, doubting every word, before he simply complied and nodded. He smiled slightly. 

+ +

 The dinner was quiet and tense, and over much too slowly. Bucky had quickly pulled Daisy out into the hallway to say goodbye before he left, groaning into her mouth how he was never going back in there ever again. They both laughed and kissed.

And now here they were at the bar, the night before he had to leave. Bucky didn’t want to leave, because he had a feeling that this would be one of the last few days he would have any peace and serenity. His gut was twisting and turning as he played with the strand of her hair between his thumb and pointer finger. As his gaze drifted from her lips to her blue eyes he just knew deep inside that this is exactly the kind of feeling he wanted to be feeling for all of eternity.

He felt it when he touched her, when he looked at her, and when he held her in his arms. 

It was like a wave of fresh air that reminded him of home - Daisy was his new home. He knew it happened fast, they all did, but sometimes true love doesn’t have to be complicated. When its meant to happen, it just simply happens. It’s simple as that - as simple as him tucking her hair behind her ear and giving her that pearly white smile that made the cheeks on her face turn a crimson red.

She leaned her forehead onto his as he held her close by her waist, the piano in the background that was once haunting, now insanely beautiful exactly like the woman in front of him. 

When Bucky had told Steve he might ask her to marry him one day.

Those words Steve said kept ringing in Bucky’s head, even as he now held Daisy in his arms, but they meant absolutely nothing to him. She was his sanctuary, his now, and he would take it by the hand.

He would take advantage of these last few hours he had with her and he would pretend all is good in the world and it would stay that way. It had to.

He kept telling himself that so he, himself, could believe it. The truth was it was all going to go downhill, he could tell.

He knew that once he left for New Jersey tomorrow that he wasn’t going to automatically be drafted into war, there wasn’t a necessary need just yet. But his father had told him the speculations of how the US wanted to go after the Nazis, and he knew there was something else his father wasn’t telling him, and it would not be long before hell broke loose. 

That’s when Steve and all the others would eventually be even more so analyzed and drafted, and so would Bucky - without a doubt.

Sure, he was courageous. It wasn’t that he was scared to go, but he needed to be certain that Daisy would always be safe. He would surely miss the moments of having her in his arms, safe and happy. 

Softly, he took her left cheek in his hand and rubbed his thumb across the top of her cheek bone,. He needed to take advantage of this moment that was staring them dead in the eye. He needed to. It didn’t matter how fast it was, how much he wanted to treat her preciously, and how much he respected her faith. He needed her. 

“Come to my apartment with me,” he noticed her gulp and her mouth opened slightly. Daisy’s mouth went dry and she watched his usual blue eyes turn a heavy grey.  Bucky smiled slightly, “I don’t want to seem like I’m making you do something you don’t want to, but I just…” his voice drifted off as his gazed dropped slightly. His eyes became clouded with disastrous visions of the future.  He blinked it quickly away, wanting to just see the image of Daisy underneath him. Just her and her pearly white skin and those gorgeous lips kissing him. 

At that moment Daisy knew exactly what he was asking.

She was a virgin and she had mentioned that to him when they started talking about the topic of her faith. She technically wasn’t supposed to be engaging in anything that was sexual before marriage to which Bucky simply nodded. At that moment, he decided he wouldn’t be too strong on her nor mention anything of his past sex life which would surely leave her blushing. He loved fucking.

But as she stared at him right then and there, realizing this could be the last moment where they’re both happy together and not  having to worry about anything, she wanted just exactly the same thing he did. She closed her eyes tightly together and leaned her face closer to his, giving him a deep and sexy kiss on his top lip, biting it as she pulled away. 

Bucky practically growled at her action, never seeing this side of her. Daisy was innocent, a classy lady, one that should always be treated as such. Sure, he knew of her passions for burlesque and lingerie (when she told him he had practically tried not to cum right then and there in his bed), but that was a dirty little secret that he concluded shouldn’t be mentioned out loud. She was always that beautiful, young, and morally behaved girl that stole his heart.

When she let go of his top lip, which was definitely throbbing now, he narrowed his lusty eyes at her and took it as a sign of acceptance.

She would be lying if she said she wasn’t slightly shaking the whole time he walked her to his dungy little Brooklyn apartment. He looked straight adorable in his little Italian flat hat and suspenders, his coat draped across one of his arms, the other holding her hand as he slid his key into all three locks of the door. 

She swore she could see him shake a little too when they had gotten inside and he put his coat on the tiny kitchen table and he turned to her. 

The room suddenly felt even smaller, the air between them hot and utterly thick. 

He eyed her up and down and swallowed hard. She wore a beautiful black dress that covered every single part of her that he now wanted to see exposed to him. 

Her lips were slightly red from the many kisses they shared on the way to the apartment, and her pinup eyeliner was so damn pretty as it shaped her eyes to perfection. She was damn gorgeous and she knew it. 

He slid off his dress shoes and then walked over to where she was standing. Her heart hammered away in her chest as his stunning blue eyes traced her body. The moment he finally stood before her, he realized he didn’t want to do with her what he did with every other girl.

He lifted his left arm to the side of her neck and watched her chest fall rapidly up and down. He grabbed her there lightly, and then slid it down the side of her body, eyeing the beauty that was simply her. 

“James.” 

“I’ll be gentle.”

He grabbed her right hand and pulled her along over to his bed. She looked down at him as he stared up at her, in awe and in love. She brought her hands to his face and touched his perfectly combed hair, smiling.

She stopped when he laid his hands over hers and brought it down between them. His face was now serious as he whispered, “Lay with me.”

He wanted to make love to her tonight. 

Did they and it was slow and tender. 

+ +

Bucky had told Steve he’d be back soon. It wouldn’t be too long - maybe a month, maybe even a few weeks. Bucky stepped onto the steam train and Steve and Daisy had stood next to each other as they waved him goodbye. The moment he sat down in his seat and the vision of the love of his life and his best friend became nothing but silhouettes, he threw his head back against his cold seat, taking a deep breath. He made a vow to himself that now was the time to make himself, his father, and his country proud. 

The only thing he wanted more than his girl was to save the lives of every person he possibly could. 

He took an additional deep breath, running a damp hand over his face. He stared up at the iron ceiling as the train swayed side to side and up and down over the slightly uneven tracks, making its way south.  

He fidgeted uncomfortably as each horrible made up scenario of what could happen when he arrived went through his mind. He wondered if the chief and sergeant would agree that he’d be as fitting as his father in taking his place and if he’d make the best soldier he always wanted to be. 

He took a deep breath and simply leaned his head against the glass. 

His blue eyes watched as the scenery of green and trees became the last of peace that he had a feeling he would feel for a very long time.

+ +

Wheaton, New Jersey

 The train ride wasn’t long; a little over an hour which was just enough time for Bucky to take his well-needed nap. When he had arrived at the station, he had noted the Jeep he was told that would pick him up along with two others who were on board. He didn’t even bother to meet up with them while onboard the train, wanting to take as much time to himself as he could, knowing it was probably his last opportunity.

The Jeep zoomed down a dirt road and through an intimidating metal gate. Bucky watched as young men ran around the perimeters, training intensely. Others were talking amongst each other as they took their break, sweaty bangs dangling onto their foreheads. 

They looked at him in curiosity as his car sped towards its destination, probably wondering what was so special about this guy that he had to get to where he was going so quickly. 

Suddenly, the car came to a heavy jolt and a hand slammed down beside him on his seat announcing their arrival. He jumped slightly at the intrusion but took a deep breath and opened the dingy door. 

As Bucky stepped off the jeep and into the dirty mud of his new camp, he knew he needed to find his uniform and combat boots as fast as he could. 

He stared down in a slight grimace at his freshly destroyed dressed shoes - he had just gotten them shined. He scoffed to himself and dragged it’s front against a random dry patch of grass trying to get off as much as he could. A young man jogged by, kicking some mud up onto Bucky’s new pants. Bucky looked on at the man as he ran, a look of anger written all over his face.  

From a distance (from beneath a random tent that provided cover for a rest area, Colonel  Douglas Smith watched in amusement the entire scene unfolding.

“This is Barnes’ son? The sniper?” He snarled under a grimace. He turned his head and gave Williams a disappointed look.

Another man -Williams- which sat to his left, looked towards Bucky’s direction over his daily newspaper. He watched on along with Douglas and smirked as Bucky looked around, lost. 

His eyes drifted to Smith and then back down at his paper,  giving it a slight smack, “Yes, sir.” humor tinted his voice heavily.

Smith shook his head in wonder as Bucky dusted off a piece of lint that was on his coat’s collar, “He better be right about this, or I swear to God.” 

Bucky’s eyes scanned his vicinity, eyes narrowing diligently. His eyes finally landed on someone who seemed to be who he should be looking for, judging by their attire and posture of authority. Also, the fact that they had been looking at him first.

“He seems too pretty to be as good as they say.”

“His father says he is the best.”

Colonel Smith eyes Bucky up and down as he made his way over, sporting his new suit and fresh suspenders. As soon as he reached the two men, Bucky nodded at each one and took off his Italian flat hat, tucking it into his armpit revealing a perfectly groomed gorgeous head of hair drenched in pomade. 

He reached out with his right arm for the Colonel to shake with a bright smile on his face, “James Barnes.”

“Colonel Douglas Smith,” he nods over to the man sitting down who seems very busy jotting something down, “This is Sergeant William of the one-oh-third.”

“Colonel. Serg.” Bucky confirms with a nod to each.

“Sit, boy.” Colonel demands with a motion of his hand in front of him. Bucky politely abides as he pulls out a chair to sit himself down. Bucky places his hat down in front of him and takes a deep breath, “First, I’d like to give you my condolences.”

Bucky momentarily stalls as his eyes drift back and forth between both men, but then clears his throat nodding, “Thank you, Sir.”

“Your father was a great man. Quite a fighter used to say he raised you from young to be the same way.” Colonel eyes Bucky up and down. Bucky gulps, finally feeling the pressure he had been slightly dreading from the beginning. He knew they were expectant of him, and now he was here to prove it and he wasn’t sure he had the balls of steels he had one day ago, “That true?”

Bucky clears his throat, “Yes, sir.” He leans down to reach into his briefcase and pulls out a beige file. He puts it onto the table and slides it across to Colonel. Smith is impressed by his promptness and professionalism and sees William smile from his peripheral. 

“What’s this?”

Bucky clears his throat once again, “Dad trained me for many things,” he took a brief glance around the base, “I experienced boot camp at the age of fifteen. I’ve done long races, obstacle races, everything that tested my endurance, boxing, running- both in the rain and scorching heat. I’ve bled, I’ve learned not to cry and hold my own. I know tactics, I know what it takes to be a soldier, sir,” Bucky notes their faces still hold no expression of amazement he was looking for and he feels his palms sweating harshly, “My father did it so I knew how to be strong and prepared for when the time was right.” 

Colonel Smith crosses his arms and leans back in his chair, not yet touching the paper in front of him. Bucky looked on in simple embarrassment from Smith to his folder, wondering if it was pointless to show as much pride as he did.

 Smith’s strong voice makes Bucky jump when he starts talking, “You think that because you’ve trained since you were a young boy, but clearly have no experience being on the front line, that you are an American Soldier?” 

 Bucky automatically becomes defensive and his posture becomes confident. He didn’t like the nagging, the accusation of something he was not. That’s when he realized, he needed to prove himself. He was good, and they wanted to see it. 

He leans closer to the table and crosses his hands out in front of him, “No, sir, of course not. Not yet,” His voice was strong and clear. The colonel sat there waiting for what Barnes had to add, “I have no experience yet with being in a war, not yet. But I have other experiences, first-hand experience.”

“And what is that exactly?”

“Guns.” Both Smith and William now give Bucky their full attention, looking straight at him in total interest. Smith even moves up closer to Bucky.

Bucky is almost one hundred percent more confident now than he was ten minutes ago because now he’s finally talking about something he knows he can own up to well. This he enjoyed immensely.

“Sure. Your file we have here does show you are good with targets, that you know what weapon is best for what, that you helped your father when it came to assembling and reassembling them for the troops, and that you are great at knowing the anatomy of a gun but many here can do that with intense training. What do you have that the others here don’t, James?”

The colonel was pressing now, and Bucky at that moment realized that what he was doing was not because he didn’t see a reason to not trust Bucky, but more so so he could prove himself, and this was his chance. 

Bucky looked Colonel Smith straight in the eye with a snarl. He slammed one finger down on the table in front of them, “I’m not just good with targets. I hit them all.”

“I do not miss. This file,” Bucky again slams his finger down on the folder in front of them, “There are diagrams, spreadsheets, rough drafts, charts, and all my grades for every algebra, geometry, physics, and trigonometry class I’ve ever taken. All As. It also includes my use of Pythagorean theorems.” Colonel raises an impressed brown and opens the file. His mouth is slightly agape as he reads on what is pages and pages of mathematical equations, transcriptions, and each a different weapon usage. 

For a cocky good looking guy, Bucky was clearly very very intelligent - a closet nerd.

“I might no be a soldier yet, but I’m already a good fucking sniper.” 

William and Smith are smiling now as they see Bucky in the way they wanted to, “Look, I’ll go out there tomorrow if you need me to. Sure, I’m a kid, but that just means I have the time to learn more. I’m ready to fight.” 

Colonel stares at Bucky for a beat. He nods, takes the folder in his hands, and stands up. Bucky looks up at him, “You will be here to assist Serg. William and I. And then we’ll see where we take you from there. We want a hard-headed kid here to help get these other guys in order.” His voice was softer now as he spoke on, “Soon, we’ll be out there in the real world and I feel you’ll do fine, kid. Your health record looks great, I saw your previous training records here at the base and they are impeccable,” 

“Thank you, sir-“

“but,” Bucky swallows hard. Smith hands the file over to William, “We want you to focus on shooting. And train these damn ass kids that this isn’t just a game. William will escort you to your temporary quarter.” 

 Bucky nods and stands up, a wide grin on his face as Smith initiates the handshake this time, “Good luck, Kid.”

+ +

Letters.

That's how he spoke to her for two years. He missed her, he missed Steve, and he missed school. He missed Brooklyn, but he missed her most of all. She was everything he had ever wanted and more. 

They refused to lose touch, but it seemed to have gotten harder the longer he spent time away from her. He almost started forgetting what it was she looked like and he did not like that at all. 

He hoped more than anything that she didn’t forget what he felt like, what his cock felt like the inside of her pretty self. God, he missed her so much. 

He’d be laying down in the bunker after one of her letters where she’d admitted that she missed all of his body, and suddenly he’d find himself a panting mess, a hand wrapped around himself. No other women in his life made him cum as much as she did. She was perfect.

Dad has been gone for four weeks and I don’t know why. Jimmy has gone with him- it’s just me and mother. I overheard her saying something about Germany but I’m not quite sure.. Or maybe it was something else. Though none of that matters to me, James- I want you. Please come home to me.

He would pick up his pen and start writing.

Daisy, 

 I’ll be home soon, my love. I want and miss you, too. 

For some reason, a chill ran down his back as he reread the words “something about Germany”. 

Like an awful memory that has never happened, he sees a child in front of him. It was a little girl and she screamed in agony for mercy. She was getting strangled to death by his own hand, a silver glint caught his eye- 

“James!” 

Bucky jumped up looked upfront his lap from where he was writing to see Williams looking at him in curiosity, waiting. 

“Be right there, Sergeant.” 

Take care of Stevie for me, Daisy. Be careful, both of ya. 

Much love,

Bucky

+ +

He’s standing in front of the men, showing them how to correctly calculate the wind and kickback of a PPSh-41. Ten iron cans laid on the grass as Bucky allowed his gun to swing back towards him. He smirks and slides it back into place in the holster around his waist. 

“Johnny, you’re up.” Bucky would announce each boy’s turn until they’ve all managed to hit all targets. Some of them taking more thirty tries each to succeed.

As much as he’d try and teach them how to properly shoot each and every gun they had on hand, it was evident that they’d never be as good as him.

But there were good in other aspects, some of which actually reminded him of Steve back at home.

“Faster.” Bucky would demand as he walked in front of them as they did fifty push-ups each. He knew they could handle it.

Williams and Smith watched from afar as Bucky’s men eventually became some of the strongest and most courageous they’ve seen in a long time. 

They shared a knowing look and Smith gave a small nod.

Bucky’s gaze drops from the men he’d grown to love down to his feet. He didn’t expect to be there for two years. He didn’t think he would go that long without seeing Daisy, but they ended up loving having him there.

 Within weeks he had the entire infantry under his finger. At first, he wasn’t too keen on yelling at them at what to do and how to do it, but with time he realized it was for their best and they realized that too. He was actually not a complete asshole when it came to bossing everyone around, but to be fair it mostly had to do with the fact that they were all not too much younger than him either, some even older. 

+ +

It had been Friday night when Bucky had everyone in their bed by 8 o clock, without a complaint or disobedience.

Bucky sat in his little office under the vintage desk light as he was reading one of Daisy’s latest letters, where she spoke about how her father had come home briefly but was quickly leaving for Siberia within a few weeks and how much she was dying to hold Bucky back in her arms again. 

She kept begging and begging him non stop. 

Bucky’s face was crestfallen as he wrote back that he promised he would be back, and that he had to talk to her about something special when he saw her again for the first time.

Truth was, he was going to ask her to marry him. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her even if it was from such far away. Bucky was tucking the letter into the envelope when someone cleared their throat from his left.  

His head snapped and he smiled when he saw it was colonel Smith.  

“Bucky, mind if we speak for a second.” Bucky nodded his head and tucked the letter in his back pocket. The colonel noted this with a nod, “That for the lady?”

Bucky smiled slightly, although it was also sad, “Yeah. Miss her,” 

Colonel patted a hand on his shoulder, “I know, kiddo.” 

They were about to go into Colonel’s office when Smith turned around. Bucky practically walked into him, not expecting him to stop so suddenly in his path. Bucky’s face was serious and he felt worried at the tension that quickly grew, “What is it, Colonel?”

Contemplating before speaking, he looked over Bucky’s shoulder, “The men love you,” 

He looked back at Bucky, “You’re good. Really good.”

Bucky should’ve been proud of his words (he was slight) but he could tell something was going on. Smith’s tone and his eyes were off, something was clearly up. 

“What’s going on?”  

The colonel looked down. It looked like for a second that he was going to back out on telling Bucky. But clearly this wasn’t something anyone could control anymore, “They want them in.”

World War II had merely started about a little over a year ago. Nazi Germany was at its peak and troops were being sent out constantly. Bucky knew there were several infantries being sent in, along with the heavy draft. Bucky had spoken to Steve back at home and Steve kept mentioning about the guys all being deployed out, but not all. They were still trying to recruit more as time came, seeing who was eligible and who wasn’t. Bucky tried to convince Steve as much as possible to quit trying to join the army, to stop lying on his forms to get accepted.  

At their base, they were training until they were to be pulled out.

And now was the time.

“But that’s not what I want to talk to you about.” 

Bucky’s heart plummeted for a fraction of a second.  He wondered what else he possibly had to say. 

Colonel turned into his office and allowed Bucky to follow behind. Bucky closed the door behind him, reluctantly and with a hard swallow. 

“There’s a group being deployed in two days. To England, the one-oh-seventh.”

Bucky’s heart jumped into his throat. Pride filled deep within his gut and he tried to contain as much excitement as he could. 

Smith went around his desk, “We agreed that you’re more than suitable to be deployed as well. So you’ll be with them.”

Bucky smiled. It was finally his time. It wasn’t just his men, but him as well.

“When?”

“A couple of weeks. The week before you’ll be allowed one week at home to see your friends,” Colonel looked at the letter that was peaking out behind him, “and your girl.” Bucky felt like he was going to cry from excitement at this point. Colonel’s face was still serious, “we want to assign you as an official Sergeant.”

The earth seemed two have shifted for a moment while Bucky processed the words. He couldn’t believe they would want him to serve at that level. Bucky’s brows raised in surprise as he stood motionless.

A soldier he always knew he would become one day, it was practically in his blood, but “Sergeant?” 

“Yes, sir.” Smith crossed his hands out in front of him and stared up at Bucky, hopeful, “I knew the moment you started talking that you were different. You’re good, you’re loyal, you’re a true born soldier just like your father always said you were. You wouldn’t dare lay a hand on something unless they were worth it. You know how to take charge and you’re willing to be on the front line.”

That same image of a tormented child being strangled to death by a hand flicker’s through his mind's eye, except now the kid is thrown against a brick wall, completely deceased.

Bucky swallows hard, “My men, they will be with me?” He knew the answer because he was already told upfront but Smith but he needed to be sure. He needed to know all of them would be there by his side when he killed Schmidt.

“Yes. Drafting starts soon, son. You’ll be home for a little bit to say goodbye.” Smith smiled, “Go get your girl.”

+ +

He’d made sure all their beds were made before they all left to say goodbye to their loved ones one last time, and he made his as well. What good Sergeant would he be if he weren’t the best example if he were a hypocrite?

He hadn’t told Steve nor Daisy that he was coming home- wanting it to be a surprise. He stepped off the train, a tailored uniform, his new Sergeant cap on his head, and a pin on his left chest. He was ready. 

A sharp wind blew in from the west, making him frown slightly in pain. The January air burned him like fire but yet gave life at the same exact time. This was reality and it was like a slap to the face. He was here to say goodbye. 

Bucky had grabbed a paper from the boy at the train station and saw something about Howard Stark’s Expo and he felt like a little boy all over again. He loved Howard Stark, to be frankly honest he was quite a nerd for it. Not only did he make the best weapons that Bucky would love to have his hands on one day, but he also loved how smart and genius he was. How he was never afraid to reach the unreachable and to do what no one else had the guts to. He would kill to meet him one day and just tell him how amazing he was.

So he had to go to his expo before he left. He was ready to see his best friend and his girlfriend and that’s exactly who he was going to go with.

Bucky had been walking excitedly from the train station to Steve’s house, but he was not expecting to see him getting beaten up by a gentleman in an alley outside a theatre. 

Anger blew up inside of Bucky as he ran towards the scene, “Hey!” He called out, grabbing both of their attention. 

When Steve saw Bucky his eyes lit up. 

Bucky grabbed the bully by his collar and kicked his ass while Steve watched from the corner of the dirty alley. 

“I think you like getting punched.” 

Bucky said as he helped Steve off the floor. 

“I had him on the ropes.”

Bucky decided not to comment any more on how Steve needed to lay off and instead wanted to spend the last few hours he had with his best friend and his girl. He told Steve about how he was sergeant now for the 107th and that he was leaving for England in the morning the next day. 

But he was also excited to share with Steve the one thing that Steve knew Bucky loved the most - Stark. When Bucky pulled out the newspaper that showed the expo that was happening that night, Steve notices the fanboy smile written all over his face. He couldn’t wait to pick up Daisy so they could all go.

When Bucky and Daisy saw each other for the first time, he had spun her around so hard her dress spun with her. Bucky kissed her so hard and she cried as she told him how much she missed him. 

Steve just stared back in boredom. 

“Are we going, or…?”

They both giggled and Bucky punched him playfully on the shoulder, “Come on, punk.”

The three of them walked into the expo. Steve was looking around in awe while Bucky had the biggest grin on his face as he held Daisy’s hand. She wore a beautiful dark drey below-knee dress and brown leather oxford heels and her lips were coated in the most beautiful shades of red. 

It was everything Bucky had ever dreamed of. Stark literally blew his mind, especially when he brought out the beautiful to die for women and then make a car fucking fly. Even if it was for just a second.

Bucky’s heart soared.

Daisy looked up at him wonder and she watched his face light up in pure happiness. She didn’t know someone could be so beautiful and that she could love someone so much. She raised her right hand up to his face as a firework went off behind his head in the sky. It was blue - the same shade of his eyes. 

He wasn’t expecting that gesture from her at that moment, so when he felt her soft little fingers on the side of his face, he snapped his head down to look at her. Her smile faded as he gave her a look of pure want.

She traces his lips with her thumb and leaned her head down on his chest. Her heart soared even more as he brought her to him in a tight embrace. He kissed the top of her head and then told Steve that they should call it a night.

Steve gave Bucky a tight hug and told him to be safe. 

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back,” Bucky warned him with a smile.

When Steve split ways with the couple at his door, he knew exactly what they were up to. He was happy for his best friend, he just hoped they weren’t too emotionally involved more than anything. He didn’t want to see Bucky get hurt.

He looked at his best friend with a weird sorrow. He wasn’t sure why something in his gut was telling him that this happiness, this simpleness, was going to be very short-lived. 

+ +

When they had gotten back to his apartment, he had her against his door and his lips were on hers.

This was it.

 Snippets of that flash of that dead child kept hitting Bucky over and over as he kissed Daisy up against his door. 

He tried to get rid of those images as much as possible as he grabbed her gorgeous legs, pulling them around his waist.  

That seemed to have done the job perfectly because he felt himself growing hard for her. 

“Please.” She pleaded desperately over his lips. He pulled away from her for a second and just stared at her beautiful face trying to take it all in. Reality hit them like a truck as he caressed her cheek with his thumb. This was goodbye, for a while. 

He leaned in slowly, and this kiss was different. It was love and care, and so much need. A need for forever. He felt tears building behind his lids as the thought of never getting the chance of holding her like this ever again tried to take over his brain. She tightened her legs around him, her hands going to the straps of his belt.

“God, I missed you, Daisy,” He moaned against her mouth. He brought his right hand between her legs, pushing her panties to the side. He slid one finger from her clit down her slick slit and her head fell back with a thud against his door. She groaned out loud at the sensation that wracked through her body, “Missed the sounds you make. I love you so much.” He growled against her.

She ran her hands through his hair and pulled his face away from her neck to kiss him deeply again. She nodded against him as her hips met the rhythm of his hand, confirming that she felt the same way. 

“Please take me, James.”

He walked them over to his bed and gently laid her down. She stared up at his lustful eyes, her lips swollen from his kiss, and her dress bundled up at her waist.

Bucky didn’t waste two seconds to pull it off her. Next, she helped him pull off his uniform jacket and shirt, revealing his gorgeous abs that she wanted to lick over with her tongue. 

Next, she removed his pants. 

She slowly tucked her fingers into the underside of his underwear as she bit her lip. It was obvious that she was teasing him. 

“Just take it off.” He ordered. 

She did as told and practically whimpered as his hard cock was revealed to her. She sat up and reached behind herself to unclasp her bra. 

When he saw her perky breasts, he leaned down and kissed her once more. The first time they had sex it was different. It was innocent and timid, but now that he knew her body and she wasn’t so shy anymore, it was more carnal. The first time was about opportunities and their future. 

But this, this felt like goodbye.

“I can’t wait, Daisy. I need you.” He confessed as he laid her down all the way. She nodded against his understanding.

He stretched out his left hand to hold onto the headboard while the other grabbed his pulsing shaft. She spread her legs and he slid into her with a long moan. 

He looked down at her and watched as she arched her neck back in pleasure, the nails of her left hand digging into his sides.  

“Faster.” She moaned. 

The other thing that was different about this time was how fast it was. The first time it lasted for almost an hour, they had made love in the most sensual way that left his skin crawling. This time they were both so close so fast, they just needed that release due to being away from each other for so long. 

She was practically screaming as he fucked her fast and oh so deliciously into the bed below her. It was so good that after only a few minutes she was looking down at the spot where they both met, her lips formed into a perfect o. 

She started nodding quickly. She cried. Bucky groaned as he twitched inside of her, his pleasure growing just as strong as hers. He was right behind her. He put his other arm up on the headboard too, letting his restless hips do all the work. 

All that was heard in the room was the sound of skin slapping on skin and their moaning.

He picked up his pace as he stared deeply into the blue orbs. When she shut her eyes she let out a silent scream, and he felt her clench around his cock. 

That did it for him. He whimpered. 

He increased his speed until he felt his own end approaching, and it was going to be strong. When it did, he groaned, tightening his grips on the headboard, making it bang against the wall behind them.  He continuously slammed his hips harsh against her.

“Fuck.” He groaned slipping out of her. She watched in awe and as he stroked himself so fast his hand became a blur - little spurts of white falling over her pretty tummy.  

His eye drifted back to her face and he watched as a smile played on her lips. Her face was extremely flushed as she bit her bottom lip in a way that made him want to take her again. He chuckled lightly. It made his heart heavy, and he knew that now was the perfect time to ask her what he had been wanting for the last two years.

He let go of the bed and laid himself next to her. He placed his left hand above her hand and the other on the side of her face.  They watched each other in complete love before he kissed her long and hard.

When he pulled away, she felt him slightly shaking and noticed the look of nervousness in his eyes. She swallowed hard.

“Daisy,” he whispered. He traced her features with his hand, and just like that the fear escaped his eyes, and instead of scared he was now feeling complete love and he was ready because knew this is what he wanted forever. 

+ + 

Diamond ring on her hand, big heart in his chest, Bucky Barnes had been ready to devote his life her and to love.

Life had other plans for him. 

Why be a husband when he could be brainwashed into becoming the Head of Hydra? 

Why love with his heart and soul when he could kill and become the world’s greatest assassin?

They’re at the New York Library. Steve stands behind him, hands in pocket and eyebrows furrowed together.

70 years later, Bucky detests himself for who he has become. He hates it all. He hates that he woke up.

His hand trembles as he reads the article. It’s worn out, ink faded.

YOUNG WOMAN, FOUND IN HALLWAY, SHOT

Reason unknown, ongoing investigation

The blonde 21 year old was found shot through the skull in the five story building but an other woman after a shot was heard. 

The woman states: “There was blood everywhere. It reeked of disaster. The poor girl was always so quiet and sweet.”

Her family has been under investigation after her father’s disappearance —

Bucky’s heart shattered, but those beautiful memories still stayed fresh in his mind.

Present 

You watched him from underneath your lashes as his chest slowly moved up and down. He looked deep in thought, as if his mind had been somewhere else, even though he was physically there. 

As his eyes examined you across the bed, you wondered what was going through his head. 

You were shocked when he stretched out his arm and you felt his hand run through your hair, letting his thumb linger over the back of your neck. 

“What does it mean?” He asks. His voice is deep and filled with emotion. 

He’s asking about your tattoo.

“Nothing.” You say breathlessly. 

His eyes were enthralling. 

“There’s no meaning?” 

“No.” You eyes leave his and you look out towards the direction of the dining area.

“Why did you get it?” He asks.

“It was in the moment. It felt like it would be thrilling; fun. The thought of forever made it even more so.” You say without a thought, letting your eyes close.

His hands don’t leave the back of your neck, and his touch remains gentle.

“You’re absolutely insane.” His tone has a chirp to it that you’ve never heard before and a near chuckle escapes your chest. He rubs his thumb there again it sends a jolt into your stomach. You open your eyes again to take a peak at him and the looks he’s giving you must’ve triggered something in your own appearance because his eyes furrow together, “What?”

“You reminded me of someone.”

He swallows thickly.

“Yeah?”

“Will.” You feel your throat grow tight at the mention of his name. Bucky senses a change in your tone and he knows that whoever this Will is, he had an impact on your life, “He died just a few days before Fury found me. He was my best friend. He was sweet, humble, funny, sarcastic, optimistic,” there’s a crack in your voice and Bucky’s breath hitches, “I loved Will. He was supposed to be here with me. We were coming to the Capitol together.” Bucky watches you intently as you speak so fondly of your dear friend. Emotions consume him and he’s in a warped daze, right hand that had been on your tattoo running up the side of your face and into your hair, “he was the only friend I ever had.”

Your eyes meet his and he sees in the tears in your eyes. He looks at you confused, fingers tightening in your hair.

“And then after I laid him to rest, I walked into the woods. I was crying and I was angry at him for leaving me. I fell down at slope, hurt my hand and my leg —” Bucky says your name quietly but you ignore him, “it was dark. I was afraid. But I wanted to continue on. Deep down I know I did. I needed to do it for Will. Then this man came and he was going to ruin everything, so I killed him. I had to,” it’s the first time you’re addresses your killing so verbally and so emotionally and it affects you more than you thought, “I had to kill him.” Bucky watches with concern as your fingers tremble against the sheets, “And then Fury found me and took me to your camp. I met Steve, and then I met you.”

Bucky pulls his hand away moments later. 

You both lay there in silence. It’s the most you’ve spoken to each other since the night he first fucked you. 

After you had sex in the kitchen, you both had separated quietly, going your separate ways until night time. You both slept on opposite sides of the bed and a couple feet apart.

It wasn’t even that it was awkward. There’s was just too much unsaid and still too much tension. You kept falling harder and harder, and you were getting weaker.

The next day you had gone to work and Bucky had found a plan to get into Ashen’s tower. 

A day later, you finally spoke again.

At nights it was the hardest. You hated his sudden silence.

You hated that you had no idea what the hell was going on anymore.

Your eyes met in an intense gaze. 

Bucky watched curiously as your left hand grazed over the sheets and up over his waist. You watched as his breath hitched, his breathing picking up. 

“What the hell are we doing, Bucky?” You asked sincerely. 

Part of you genuinely wondered if he was only doing this with you because you were the only girl available. 

“Fucking.” He spats out too quickly. He continues to watch you as tug your fingers into the band of his dark grey sweats, “we’re fucking.”

You feel a surge of energy build its way up your body. You don’t know if it’s lust or anger, and it scares you that you can’t distinguish it. You begin to wonder if possibly it’s both.

You move closer into him dragging his sweats down as best as you could. Bucky had to help you by lifting his hips off the bed for a second. He lets out a long breath as his length escapes the confinements of his pants. 

Your heart hurts as you take in his glorious body and his face. The face of a boy that you wished could give you more than this, the face of a boy that changed your life. 

Because even though he was pure man, you knew deep down inside he still felt young. He felt robbed. You hated that you wanted to take him in any way you could. You hated that you loved making him cum and that he let you.

Eyes darting down to his half soft cock, you lick your bottom lip. You take him into your hand, thumb sliding over his tip. Bucky lets out a tight moan. It comes out heavy and needy.

His reaction gives you a boost and you give him a few languid strokes. 

“Over the head, and under it.” He tells you with a gruff. You do as told, watching as pre cum oozes out of his hole. Bucky groans, stretching his right leg out. He mumbles something you can’t make out. Your look up to see him quickly lick his hand and the replace yours with his own over his growing dick, “Like this.” He curved it up towards his body and he teaches you how to stroke. You watch amazed as his flesh hand moves over his cock, noting how where his thumb and pointer finger meet focuses on the edge of the mushroom tip.

You put your hands over his and he lets himself go, letting you take charge again.

The feel of his saliva on your palm over his cock is filthy. Dirty. Fucking sexual.

You mimic his actions from earlier for about a minute until you decide to lick a strip up the underside of his shaft.

You hear him gasp underneath you and a heavy hand meets the back of your head. You look up at him timidly and he’s looking down at you. He looks as sinful as ever. His cheeks are flushed and his mouth is agape. You can’t tell if it’s the pleasure you’re giving him or if he’s shocked. 

It kills him how innocent you look with your head between his legs. Your lashes are so long and pretty and, oh, your lips look small plush too. You keep eye contact as you flick the tip of your tongue over his tip and a whine escapes his throat. You do it again, and again.

“Oh my god.” He moans. You take him into your mouth little by little, careful to not let your teeth scrape him. 

You bob your head up and down, your right hand stroking what you can’t take down your throat.

You feel his hands pulling your hair into a makeshift pony tail and you groan around him. 

“Fuck.” He gasps at the vibrations. One of his hands leave your head but the other stays there, helping you; guiding you.

You sit up up until your butt is in the air, with him still in your mouth, and your place your hands on his thighs. You take a deep breath, and he watches as you lower your head down his cock, as deep as it could go. 

The chocking sounds are erotic to both your ears.

Bucky is breathing harder now and he takes your head in both of his hands, running his fingers gently down the sides as he slides you up and off his cock. 

When your eyes meet, his looks lust blown. His gaze is briefly on your now swollen lips, and then he composes himself, hands going down to the hem of your white camisole dress.

He helps you pull it off in one go followed by your underwear. As soon as it’s off your feet you go to sit up when he stops you.

He grabs your pillow and places it behind you. You sit back. Bucky gives your body a hungry look as he grabs each of your knees, bending your legs up. He gives them a shove away from each other.

You feel exposed and naked and you know he can see just how soaked you are. You whimper as he slides to fingers up your bare and freshly shaved folds. He lets out his own moan as he gathers your juices onto the tips of his fingers, smearing them over your clit.

Shocked, you watch as he leans down until his front is almost perpendicular to the bed. He kisses the inside of your thigh, nibbling it as he makes his way to your center.

You feel his hot breath against your cunt as he tells you to put you to grab his head.

In a euphoric daze, you do as you’re told. A jolt of pleasure shoots through you as he licks your clit. You feel two of his fingers spread your lips and then he’s licking at you, feeding on you like you’re his favorite meal.

You groan, shoving his head closer to your pussy. 

“Oh, shit.” You moan when he enters two flesh fingers into your as he sucks on your bundle of nerves.

Your left leg kicks out as he sucks and sucks. You’re breathless as you look down, the sigh of his head between your thighs being the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Oh, god.” You say. 

He looks up at you and you’re gasping. His eyes don’t leave yours as he continues to fuck you with two fingers, the tip of his tongue now flicking at you like mad.

You let out a heavy groan, your head tossing backwards in pleasure.

You feel him pull away and you whimper at the loss of feeling. You feel him grab the side of your waist and he’s pulling you against him until he’s back into the same position he was before. 

Bucky leans over the side of the bed and goes into his night stand. You don’t know how to feel when you see him grab a box of condoms.

Did he buy that? Did he know he didn’t want it to be just a one time thing? He didn’t want it to be a one time thing?

You rips box and tosses almost angrily, and when he’s got the foil in his hand, he tears the edge with his teeth.

He slides the condom over his dick and then gently grabs your arms.

“I’ve never…” you stutter as you sit on his lap.

“I know you haven’t, i’ll teach you.” He slides you up and down over his cock, coating it with your slick. You’re leaned over him gasping and he’s grinning his teeth, “You can ride my cock, can’t you?” He purrs up at you so deliciously you have to bite your bottom lip to keep from whimpering, “I want to make you feel good. I want to make you cum. I want us to cum together.”

Your movements quicken as his words turn you on. He takes himself in his hand and rubs his tip up and down over your slit before finally pushing into your heat.

You both groan simultaneously. The pleasure is mutual and you both feel full and satisfied, for the first time. He’s gasping, both hands taking a hold of each side of your face.

He hates what this has become. He hates that his emotions are at an all time high right now.

His eyes look into yours as you move up and down and he remembers why he was so afraid of loving again.

As you move over him, he knows he wouldn’t be able to handle it if something bad were to happen to you. As you fuck yourself on his cock, he knows he can’t fall down that rabbit hole again. He tried so hard to make you hate him and yet here you were, letting him fuck you.

You couldn’t like him. Not emotionally and not physically. It was for your own good. He was bad news, he knew he was.

Everything he touched always got destroyed. It always died.

He was cursed.

Your cunt gives him a perfect squeeze and he shouts.

“God, Y/N.” He cries, grabbing your hips and driving you down faster and harder. 

He bends his legs and the sound of your skins hitting echoes around the loft. 

Dirty.

Your hand goes to your pussy and you rub yourself furiously.

“Oh yeah.” You moan. He moans back in response, his own hips lifting off the bed to fuck into you.

He tells you to rest your hands on the pillow next to his head and you do so.

He grabs your hips and starts ramming up into you.

Looking down, his face is only a few inches from yours and you wished you could kiss him. You wonder if he can see past your lie of just wanting him for sex. You wanted so much more than an orgasm.

He was killing you.

With one of his ruthless trusts, he hits that spot inside of you that makes you see sparks and you feel your end approaching.

You’re breaths come out of your nose in sharp huffs, fingers curling into the pillow case. 

You scream when he leans himself up, taking the side of one of your breasts into his mouth. His nibbles you with a growl.

You know he’s getting close too because his eyebrows are tight together and there’s a thin sheet of sweat over his body.

You cum beautifully over his dick. You know you’re probably shouting but you don’t care because there is absolutely nothing that could ever feel better than this. He helps you drag it out and he rams into you and you look down to see his eyes tightly closed. 

You rub a thumb over the tops of his left cheek.

“Cum for me.” You whisper.

His mouth gapes open and he gives you a few more strong thrust before they start to falter. He lets out a loud and animalism grunt, followed by a slap to your right ass cheek.

You’re both panting as you collapse on top of him.

+  +

The building’s security infrastructure was a lot less advanced than Bucky had planned for, which was a great thing. He half expected to have to divert more cameras and more security. Especially for a Hydra centre. 

Or maybe he was just that stealthy. 

He had commenced his part of the mission earlier in the afternoon than he usually did, but that was because he wanted to see if he could catch Ashen this time. 

Just as planned, at three forty five sharp, Ashen and three other man came in through the main entrance. 

Bucky, having come in through a weak and dingy window across the building, watched from afar as they took the elevator. On cue, Bucky took the door to the stairwell. 

He made it quickly to the seventieth floor until he hear the familiar voice. Waiting until it was far enough and he could no longer hear anything, Bucky stepped out into the hallway.

He makes sure to avoid directly sight of any cameras he sees along the way. So many years as the world’s most dangerous assassin gave him the stealth and experience needed to do it successfully. He would go undetected.

The building was modern and gorgeous. There were glass panels and long hallways. Bucky followed the men from a safe distance until they finally walked into a room, closing the door behind them. Bucky tried to maneuver as best as he could without being seen. 

When he turned he saw something that left him stunned.

It was a medical bay, expect that there was just one bed.

He could see Ashen and those few men, who were now adorning lab coats.

What caught Bucky off guard was the little boy laying in the bed, unconscious. There were several tubs and IVs coming in and out of his little body. He was a strange color, almost light green. Ashen sat next to the boy, sad.

Bucky watched carefully as Ashen took the little boy’s hand in his.

“Hey, kiddo. Daddy got you a gift this time. It’s not the usual one you like, but I figured you’d still love it.” Bucky watched as Ashen pulled something out of his suit pocket. It was a Hershey kisses. Ashen placed it on the bed, “You need to wake up, buddy. It’s the only thing left before we can figure this out. Please, Ashens.”

Bucky’s heart sunk as the kid’s father’s head dropped down onto the bed. His hand ran over his head, the other continued to hold onto Ashens’ hand.

“Sir?” One of the men in the lab coats speaks.

“Yes?” Ashen responds.

“We can hold him on the machines for a few more months, but if things don’t start to look up —-”

“I don’t want to hear it. He will wake up. He will stay on the machines until I say otherwise.” He snaps, “We already have Stark technology being detected within the walls, we can’t afford to lose guard now. We are getting closer!”

“Sir—”

“He’s my son!” He shouts.

Bucky starts to back away when he hears someone about to turn the corner. He hides behind one of the walls that lead into a room until the close is clear. He finds his way back the way he came.

He needed to find you.

+  +  +

“Pour me a Knob Creek on the rocks, sweetheart.” The man slurs, giving you a nod towards drinks behind you.

You tried not to groan as you gave him a fake smile. You quickly poured him the drink and slid it across the bar to the douchebag who wouldn’t stop eyeing you like a piece of meat.

“I’ll have the same.”

A voice says on the opposite side. You look over and you feel fear creep up in your bones.

Silas.

You nod, hands shaking as pour his drink.

He watches you closely.

“You nervous about something?” He asks.

You let out a shaky chuckle.

“No.” You say bluntly.

You slide him the drink and he takes it, but his eyes don’t leave yours. 

“I won’t bite.” He says.

You look away. Shit did he remember you?

“Didn’t think you would.”

You go to turn around when he grabs your wrist. Your blood runs ice cold and your freeze on the spot. You can feel your heart beating away inside of your chest.

His eyes are intense as they stay on you.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” He asks.

You let out another chuckle.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“You’re not a whore?”

His blunt question insults you. You know he means one of the call girls down stairs, but it still bothers you.

“I’m a bartender.” You insist.

“Bartender?” His grip tightens slightly.

He stares into your eyes and you feel threatened. 

Did he remember?

“Hey, everything alright out here?” You turn around, relieved to see Pietro behind you.

Silas quickly lets go of you and returns to his drink.

Pietro looks up from your wrist to Silas with a raised brow.

Your heart only calms down a bit before you clear your throat.

“You okay, Marina?” He asks you in the corner where Silas won’t hear.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Pietro doesn’t believe you and you can tell by the way he looks at you.

“If you ever have any issues with anyone here, please let me know.” You nod, “Good. Have a good night, you did good today.”

You give him another short nod, still unable to breathe properly.

+  +

Bucky was standing out on the balcony when you came home. He looked to be deep in thought about something so you gave him the space he needed. You avoided the bedroom and instead hung out for a bit on the couch, trying to process what happened tonight and how you would tell Bucky. You knew for certain he was going to flip out. Or maybe it was just your paranoia and he would tell you to relax and that you were overreacting. 

You weren’t sure what would happen. 

Bucky doesn’t decided to come inside until you’re in the kitchen grabbing some left over take out from yesterday. He stands in the entrance for a few seconds before sitting down at the table behind you. 

“We need to talk.” He says.

You wait a few seconds before sitting in front of him. He’s looking down at his hand on his leg instead of at you.

He bites his lip and scoffs, disappointedly. 

What was going on?

He stands up, runs his hands through his hair and begins to pace around.

“We shouldn’t have done this. Any of this. It was a mistake. I knew it would’ve been bad. A distraction. We shouldn’t have done this.” His mumbling under his breath and not making any sense to you.

“Bucky, what’s going on?” You ask quietly and concerned. 

He walks over to the counter and slams his flesh fist on it. 

“What the fuck are we doing?”  He shouts, “We’re supposed to be working, focusing on this mission, and instead,” he spins around pointing out the kitchen, “instead we’re out there fucking, Y/N. We’re acting like a bunch of fucking animals, humping each other’s brains out!”

“Bucky —”

“I knew, I knew this would’ve been a bad decision. I fucking knew I shouldn’t have let this happen.”

“You need two people to have sex, Bucky.”

“You should have never told me you wanted to fuck me.”

“I never told you to fuck me. I was only telling you how I feel. That’s all I’ve been doing this entire time.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have.”

“You’re the one who told me you wanted to fuck me, Bucky! You’re the one that bought a fucking damn box of condoms while I was taking a damn shower!” You’re angry now as you stand up from the chair, “Don’t you dare tell me this was all me or all you, this was both of us.” You jammed a finger into his chest, “You bought me fucking plan B just so I couldn’t get pregnant with your damn child and then you fucked me again not even an hour later. Don’t you fucking dare.” You can feel the tears in your eyes.

He grabs your fingers and walks you back until your back is against the wall. He snarls down at you.

“Then fuck it. We like to fuck. Either it’s me or you or both us, fine. But we shouldn’t have done it.” 

You want to push him away from you as you feel repulsed by him.

“Yeah? Was that what was going through your mind as you were shoving my head down your cock, Barnes? Making me choke on it? Or when you fucked me up against our window so our neighbors could see? I don’t have to fuck you ever again.”

“Good —!”

“—I literally told you I loved you and you attacked me for it—”

“—because it’s obviously only making everything worst—”

“—I then sleep with you, I gave you my virginity, and you have the audacity to stand here and say I seduced you when I gave you my innocence!” You shoved him away and he stumbled back. Your face felt red and you feel furious. You were shocked you weren’t crying, even though you felt like it, “Huh?” You give me another shove, “How fucking evil are you? You gaslighting piece of shit.”

He looked at you after that and your breathing was the only thing that could be heard. His face was stern and turned into a scowl as he looked down at you.

“I’m evil?” You took deep breaths through your nose to control yourself, “No, yeah you’re right, I am. I know I’m a piece of shit. I’m abnormal.” He spat the same words out you had used against him the other day, “I’m so damn evil, Y/N, that I’d rather try and focus on this damn mission than worry about getting laid.” You’re both breathing hard now. He takes a deep breath before continuing, “Yeah, maybe before I was thinking with my cock instead of my head, but it needs to stop now. Last night was the last time.”

You could feel your heart thundering away inside of you. You squinted your eyes at him, seeing the underlying discomfort in his eyes.

“What happened today?” You ask slowly, carefully. He doesn’t answer you and you start to get angry again, “I come home, I found you outside looking all depressed and now you’re in here snapping at me about focusing on the mission. What. Happened. Today?” You emphasize through clenched teeth. He takes a deep breath again, looking away from you he runs a hand through his hair and turns away from you.

“They know we’re here. We weren’t careful enough.” He says.

Your heart falls into the pit of your stomach along with your worst fears.

“What?”

“They know we’re here! I fucking followed them and I overheard them. We either weren’t careful enough or —- I don’t know!” He’s pacing again, “Your parent’s must’ve put in some kind of tracker to make the capitol aware or something of stark technology or maybe Hydra pre installed something. Whatever it is, they know we are here, and for all I know they could be watch us right now. We fucked up.”

You watch him as he stresses over this. He grabs at his hair.

“They don’t know it’s us, Bucky. If they did they’ve would’ve caught us by now.” You tick your jaw as you watch the muscles in his back flex, “Something happened at work today, too. I think Silas remembered me.”

Bucky scoffs, turning around again to face you.

“There’s no way he remembers you. We wiped him.”

“Maybe you’re right, but he was acting off. He came to order a drink and he grabbed me —”

“He grabbed you?”

“Just my hand. I was fine. Pietro showed up, sensed the tension, and Silas backed off.”

“Fuck.”

You take a deep breath, stepping away from Bucky.

“You’re right,” you eye him up and down, “We can’t let it happen again. We need to focus on this and I’m already exhausted from you.”

“Exhausted from me?” His voice is a low timber now, the anger from before having died over.

“You don’t even know the amount of emotional turmoil you put me through, do you?” He continues to stare at you quietly and you take another step towards him, “You took something I can never get back.” You say quietly, “And it’s up for you to decide what that something is.”

+ + +

@snakeeatery17 @utterlyhopeful-fics , @marvelfan1017, @iheartsebastianstan , @annathesillyfriend , @redhairedfeistynerd, @perksofbeingabookworm, @amyrose051, @meegggoooo, @morganclaire4 , @captainchrisstan, @bxndys , @shoesonpointe ,  @writerwrites, @rainbowkisses31, @lindatreb , @littlemissner98 , @dezzylou24, @ayeitslelee , @hardygal69 ,  @emmabarnes , @redbarn1995@thequeenreaders@ilovemysupersoldiers@maximumplaidzonknerd@ceapa-mica @s-trawberryv-eins@buckysknifecollections@sobangie @lindatreb@theseuscmander @nervous-plant @wildmoonflower  @aya-fay@appreciating-fanfics @kaitlynisinfinite @justreadingfics@kaitieskidmore1 @mrsdancing​

[xanthippe74]

Drarry ficlet: Momento mei

2399 words | general audiences | angst with a happy ending

Thanks to @glittering-git for the beta!

Read below or on AO3 here.

Memento mei

It seemed like a blessing at first.

In the months after the war ended, the articles chronicling Harry’s deeds in the Prophet slowly waned from full pages of lavish words and photographs, to barely a mention of his name. Harry felt lighter for it, free. By the time the first term back at Hogwarts was almost over, he could go to Hogsmeade without worrying about flash bulbs startling him every time he stepped out of a shop.

“They finally got tired of you, mate,” Ron said with a laugh as they trudged back to the school after a morning of Christmas shopping. Harry scooped up a handful of snow and rubbed it, none too gently, into Ron’s grinning face.

Harry and Ginny’s break-up didn’t get so much as a mention, even in Rita Skeeter’s gossip column, which had been relegated to an ignominious corner ten pages back from the front page. When he came out as bisexual and briefly dated Terry Boot that spring, he braced himself for a fresh round of publicity. It never materialised.

Harry looked in the mirror of the eighth-year boys’ bathroom and found he was truly comfortable in his own skin for the first time. His life wasn’t going to be scrutinised and dissected for public consumption anymore. The people around him didn’t think he was a freak or a waste of space.

One year after the war, with a handful of NEWTs to his name, Harry was at a loss for what to do next. There was no particular career he felt inclined to pursue, so he put his energy into renovating Grimmauld Place and spending time with his godson. He wondered at times why no one had offered him a job—Ron and Hermione had been deluged with letters—but he never mentioned it to anyone. It would have sounded awfully big-headed to expect anything to be handed to him like that, much less complain about it. While his friends began training programmes and apprenticeships, Harry Vanished broken furniture and stripped mildewy wallpaper off the walls. On the weekends, he met the usual Hogwarts gang for pub night or a party in someone’s cramped flat.

Harry looked in the mirror on his way out to meet his friends, giving his hair one last check. Maybe he’d meet someone new tonight. He winked at his reflection before leaving his newly-renovated bedroom.

Two years after the war, Harry didn’t think twice about walking through Diagon Alley on a busy Saturday. There were no stares or requests for autographs, no whispers when he paused to look into a shop window. He met friends for leisurely lunches. He ate ice cream at a table in front of Fortescue’s and watched people strolling by in the summer sunshine. Once, Harry walked the entire length of Diagon without realising that George had flicked a spell at the back of his head as he’d left the joke shop.

Harry looked in the mirror when he got home and was bemused by the things that didn’t warrant a second glance in the magical world, like hair that shifted between purple and orange every five seconds. He went over to Andromeda’s house to show Teddy, who laughed to see his godfather’s hair change colours like his did.

Three years after the war, Harry’s friends started forgetting to invite him to things. At first, they laughed it off as absentmindedness or a simple oversight. “I’m sorry, Harry! It must have slipped my mind,” was an excuse he began to hear more and more often. And then they began to look confused when he confronted them, like it was strange for Harry to expect to be included at all. As the months went by, the hosts of the get-togethers weren’t the only offenders—not a single person seemed to notice when Harry didn’t show up for something. When he mentioned it later, they would only lament all the fun he’d missed out on. His frustration curdled into self-pity.

Harry looked in the mirror the day he found out he’d missed Lavender’s engagement party, studying his unremarkable features and the unremarkable haircut he’d had since he was eighteen. Was he really so boring and unimportant that nobody thought about him much anymore? He didn’t mind in the least that the wizarding world wasn’t fawning over him, but it cut deeply that the people dearest to him no longer seemed to want or need his company.

It was only when his closest friends stopped recognising him that Harry began to suspect that something was terribly wrong. The first one was Luna, but she was often so lost in her own thoughts that it didn’t strike him as odd that she’d drifted past him in Diagon without saying hello. Then Molly looked at him blankly one day when he arrived at the Burrow for Sunday roast, as if Harry were a stranger who’d wandered in by accident. Thankfully, Ron was passing through the kitchen and greeted him as he usually did. Molly gave herself a little shake and ushered them both into the lounge.

Four years after the war ended, Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt didn’t mention Harry’s name in his speech commemorating the Battle of Hogwarts.

Hagrid didn’t invite Harry to tea for his birthday, as he did every year.

And when Harry popped into Neville’s flower shop to wish him happy birthday, Neville responded to his greeting with a baffled look. Harry watched in horror as he turned to Hannah and mouthed the words, “Who’s that?”

Harry spun on his heel and went right back out the door.

Either he was going mad or everyone else was. He walked around London for half the night, unable to think straight. The city was a vast ocean, and Harry felt like a small boat that had been set adrift, tossed around by waves of panic. When he was calmer, he decided to turn to the two people he knew he could always count on for help.

On his twenty-second birthday, Harry woke up on his sofa and rushed to the Floo to call Hermione before she left for work. He was flooded with relief when he heard footsteps approaching the fireplace. Ron’s face appeared in the flames—and immediately twisted into anger when he saw Harry.

“How did you get this address? Who let you into our wards? Get out!”

Harry sat on the floor for a long time after Ron had slammed the Floo connection closed.

Alone. Alone. Alone.

Oh, god—Teddy. Harry scrambled to his feet. Would Teddy shy away from Harry as he would from a stranger, the next time they saw each other? He stumbled up the stairs and dry heaved over the toilet.

Harry looked in the mirror and prodded his chalky face with his forefinger. Did he look unrecognisable to everyone but himself now? Did they see a different face, a different person when they looked at him? Or were they all under some kind of spell that erased their memories?

How had he been forgotten by everyone who loved him?

Forgotten.

You will be forgotten.

The phrase echoed in Harry’s head, causing him to sink down onto the bathroom floor. Over four years ago he’d heard those very words, snarled by a Death Eater as she’d been dragged out of the Great Hall by Aurors after the final battle. Harry had been so exhausted that the dank weight of her magic settling upon him had immediately vanished from his mind.

“The Dark Lord will always be remembered! But you will not, Harry Potter. You are nothing compared to him—utterly insignificant! You will be forgotten!”

Harry went to St Mungo’s to see the Healers, who shook their heads at the young man who insisted he was supposed to be famous. When they couldn’t fix him, they called in an Unspeakable who specialised in breaking obscure curses. After an hour of waiting, a man in hooded grey robes swept into the examining room. He didn’t show the slightest sign of recognition when he introduced himself to Harry as Unspeakable Malfoy.

Harry looked in the mirror above the sink while Malfoy cast diagnostic spells at him. He tried not to cry.

Malfoy didn’t make any promises when he was done with his spells, the results of which he recorded in a small notebook. He promised to send an owl if he found anything and asked for Harry’s name again so he could write it down.

If Malfoy couldn’t fix this, Harry decided on his walk home, he’d have to leave England. If he went someplace where no one had heard of him, they couldn’t forget him, right? The tears he’d held back at St Mungo’s slid down his cheeks as he thought about how much he’d gained, and now lost, since his eleventh birthday. Maybe he didn’t have the most exciting life or a career to boast about, but there were people who loved him. There were happy times and an old house that he’d turned into a home with his own hands.

Harry went back to Grimmauld Place and waited for word from Malfoy. He paced through the high-ceilinged rooms and climbed the long flights of stairs until his legs ached. He caught himself holding his breath, listening for a knock on the door or the roar of the Floo. When they never came, he went out to the back garden instead and lay on its small rectangle of grass. He considered where he might go—California or New Zealand. Or maybe some South Pacific island where it never got cold.

At last, Malfoy’s owl arrived four days after he had examined Harry. He’d identified the curse and, more importantly, found the countercurse.

Back at St Mungo’s, Malfoy greeted Harry coolly and ordered him into a chair. The countercurse was a droning chant in a language that Harry didn’t recognise, accompanied by complex wand motions that made him dizzy to watch. He closed his eyes until it was over, hardly able to breathe.

When the casting was finished and the room silent again, Harry opened his eyes and found Malfoy gaping at him.

“Potter? What the hell?” Malfoy looked over at his notes on the table, then back at Harry, his eyes widening even further. Then he said, faintly, “Well, Scarhead, that was quite the predicament you got yourself—”

He didn’t get the chance to finish. Harry launched himself out of the chair and crushed Malfoy in a hug, laughing tearfully into the shoulder of his Unspeakable robes.

“Gracious, Potter, a simple thank-you would suffice.” Malfoy wriggled out of Harry’s arms and stepped back to cast a diagnostic spell at him. “Do you feel any different?”

Harry thought about it for a moment. “Not really. Lighter, maybe?”

“You’re probably just relieved to be famous again,” Malfoy said, rolling his eyes. “It must have been terrible not to see your own picture in the newspaper every day.”

“No, that part was actually nice. It was having my friends not even recognise me anymore…”

The rest of the words got caught in Harry’s throat. Malfoy’s expression turned sympathetic, and when he spoke again, it was with surprising gentleness.

“Well, then. I suppose you’d better go see them now, hmm?”

He accompanied Harry to the Floo in the reception area. Harry tried to glance at him as they walked, but he’d pulled up his hood to hide his face from the other people in the corridor. No wonder Harry hadn’t heard anything about Malfoy in the past few years—he’d buried himself in the depths of the Ministry, learning to undo Dark curses.

And letting the wizarding world forget him, Harry thought with a pang.

Harry shook Malfoy’s hand and thanked him. Whatever happened next, he knew he wouldn’t stop thinking about Malfoy, with his sharp gaze and clever mind, anytime soon. Malfoy, too, seemed to consider Harry for a few long moments before he stepped into the Floo.

This time, the only reason why Hermione and Ron were surprised to see Harry was because they weren’t expecting him on a Thursday evening as they were squabbling over what to make for dinner. He almost started crying again when Ron cuffed him on the shoulder and asked him if he wanted a beer.

Hermione noticed that he was upset first, of course. When Harry explained the curse, she blamed herself for not catching that something was wrong. Ron looked towards the pictures on the mantelpiece and swore under his breath. There weren’t any pictures of Harry there.

The good parts of Harry’s life returned to normal after that, and he was almost bursting with renewed gratitude for the people around him. Diagon was off limits again, since the vultures at the Prophet remembered to hound him, but that was a small price to pay. Harry threw himself a belated birthday party in Grimmauld Place, and the rooms were filled with music and laughter and shouted toasts in his honour. He never wanted the night to end.

Harry looked in the mirror before going to bed in the wee small hours, and he smiled with contentment at his bleary eyes and the glitter caught in his hair.

He’d invited Malfoy to the party on a whim, but received a polite note declining. Harry tried again and again—a Seekers game? Lunch in Muggle London? Tea at Grimmauld Place?—until Malfoy finally gave in. He showed up on Harry’s doorstep in jeans and a soft, well-fitted jumper. Harry found himself staring.

“Did you forget that you asked me to dinner, Potter?” Malfoy smirked.

“Oh, no,” Harry breathed. “How could I forget you?”

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

Five years after the war ended, Harry spends his Saturdays teaching Teddy how to fly on his first broom and Sundays being climbed on by two or three small Weasleys who know he keeps sweets in pockets. He orders Christmas gifts by owl post to avoid star-struck witches in the Diagon shops. He slips into the Leaky Cauldron under his invisibility cloak to meet his friends for drinks.

And when Draco reads out the ridiculous articles about him from the Daily Prophet, Harry chucks the crusts of his toast across the breakfast table at his boyfriend and says he almost forgot how much of a prat he could be.

“You didn’t forget anything,” Draco says pointedly.

And Harry has to agree. He didn’t.

[lubdubsworld]

Better Man .

~~~~~~~~~~I wish I could forget, when it was magic~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taehyung x Oc 

Rated 18 +

Post Divorce, Getting Back Together, Second chances, Angst.

 Chapter 1    Chapter 2   Chapter 3 

Chapter 4

How do you know you’re ready for kids? 

Is it after you’re financially stable enough? After you’ve partied enough? Got all the wildness inside you tamed? After you’ve grown sick of the freedom that comes with youth and what it implies ?  after you’ve grown tired of empty conversations that lead nowhere? sharing ubers with people you barely like because you’re too drunk to drive? When you just crave the comfort of people you truly love instead of strangers who grind up on you ? Or perhaps   when you start preferring silence in the evenings to the thrumming bass in some dingy nightclub? 

None of these really. 

The truth is you’re never ready. 

Hoshi had been planned. Taehyung and I had done our homework, studied everything from my ovulation cycle to the entire catalogue of some expensive breast pump , new in the market . Everything had been researched and planned and perfected : the wood the crib would be made of, the color he wallpaper in the nursery would be and the kind of diapers and wipes we would use. 

But it still threw us for a loop....how unpredictable he was.

How unpredictable the pregnancy was. 

What I wanted : Home birth. Mid wife . Taehyung by my side holding my hand.

What i got : Preeclampsia, a baby born six weeks early, Taehyung frantic on the phone in the middle of the night as he took his private jet from Japan where he was shooting a commercial. The pain of being induced into a labor that lasted for 16 hours only for my body to give up half way through. 

A c section that left a scar and numbness that hadn’t faded even now , after four whole years. three weeks in the NICU....tears and terror after learning that the  baby in the incubator right next to Hoshi’s didn’t make it. Aching to hold my son but being forced to stare at him through the glass, wires and tubes wrapped around his tiny torso. 

And through it all, Taehyung. 

Stronger than I had ever seen him. Calm and collected as he watched me pump milk for our baby, barely managing a few measly drops of it after thirty minutes of trying . His arms around me, holding me up as I tried to fight the sheer agony that came from my stitches, tried to stay conscious for the baby. Watching him carefully pour the milk into a sterile bottle to take down to the NICU . 

Falling in love with him, over and over and over again throughout the day as he did  everything for me. 

Hoshi was loved and cherished , not just because he was an expression of our love for each other. 

But a reminder of Taehyung’s love for  me. 

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

“ He’s growing out of all his clothes. I’m going to take him shopping tomorrow.”  Taehyung commented, watching Hoshi get on his tippy toes to point out the pastry he wanted from the display case, while a star struck cashier stared at Taehyung . 

Taehyung’s body guards were right near the table and while a crowd of people stood outside, none of them came too close. I was used to the attention that came with Taehyung and his celebrity status. 

“That’s a good idea. I have a couple of meetings tomorrow regarding the Christmas campaign and I may not be able to make it on the weekedn either. Is it okay if I pick him on monday evening?” I asked, cutting into the blueberry scon on my plate.

“How about I drop him off at your office. Save you the trip.” 

I hesitated, before nodding. 

“I spoke to the lawyer....she told me the papers should be processed by the end of next month. My company will make a formal announcement from both of us and we’ll say we don’t intend to answer any other media questions.”

I stared at him, watching his face carefully for something different. A sign that would explain what had changed between us because something had. I was sure of it. 

“ Why now, Taehyung?” I asked softly. 

He held my gaze for a second, eyes warm and honest. Taehyung could hide his emotions well, but his eyes always told the truth. 

“Because I’ve strung you along long enough. You deserve to be free.” He said finally.

I swallowed, looking down. 

“I ....you didn’t string me along.” I shook my head.

“I think you deserve to be loved right, without the shadow of my failures hanging over you. I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life in a limbo because of one wrong choice.”

Wrong choice. 

Whose ?

His? When he chose to drink That night?

Or mine? When I chose to walk out?

Or the both of us? For handling the fallout so badly? 

I had so many questions but I didn’t say anything. 

They were question that had no answers. 

“So we move on.” I stared at him intently.

“I will always love you. I will always be there for you.” He smiled, eyes glinting a little. 

i watched him, the familiar body. He had been my first. My best. Taehyung’s body was as familiar to me as my own and I wanted to hug him, hold him close and press kisses to his lips again. It wasn’t emotional or even sexual it was just...this urge to let him know that he was loved too. that he was adored. That he would always be loved.

“But, “ he went on, “  yes. Its been two years.... so.... we should move on. Meet other people. ” 

“Fall in love again ?” I didn’t mean to sound bitter but my tone certainly was. He gave me a very tired smile and I felt guilt bubble up inside me. 

“I’m not going to be that greedy, Mia.  I will settle for just feeling a little less alone.” He looked away and my throat closed up. 

He stood up, moving to the counter to pay for the treats that Hoshi had chosen. 

And that was it. 

I watched the small tendrils of warmth, rising up from my coffee, gossamer strips of smoke mingling in the cold air and melting into nothingness. 

Here one second gone the next.

Just like my marriage. 

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

It was a little past seven when I reached my apartment, my phone ringing just as I dropped my coat and unwrapped the scarf from around my neck. I moved quickly to the bedroom, pulling my phone out of my handbag. 

I picked the call, switching it to speaker before tossing my phone on the bed. 

“Hello?”

“Jang Mi...its Jungkook. You ready?”

I swore, stripping out of my clothes quickly, fumbling with my bra and yanking my panties down.

“I’m just about to shower.  Five me ten minutes!” 

He didn’t reply and I frowned.

“Jungkook??” i called opening the closet to grab a hairband and shower cap. 

“When you say you’re just about to shower...are you actually in the shower?” His voice  sounded a little deeper than usual. Weird. 

“What?” I was completely confused.

“Like are you naked in-”

Oh Christ. 

I rolled my eyes, hanging up quickly. Sleeping with Jungkook, while extremely pleasurable had definitely been a little too much too soon. It made him take too many liberties, ones I wasn’t particularly comfortable giving him yet. 

But I liked him. 

He was, at the end of the day a nice guy. 

A nice guy who had an actual interest in me. Those were rare to come by. 

It was another fifteen minutes before I was ready, choosing a plain black jumpsuit in a flowy georgette material. It had nice flowy sleeves and i added gold jewelry at my wrists and earrings, just for a little bling. I stared at the dress at all angles. It definitely hugged my curves right but was also impossibly hard to take off. 

So even if I got swayed by his good looks and made bad choices ,  by the time Jungkook undressed me , i would be able to come to my senses and stop myself from having sex with him again. 

Groaning at myself, I grabbed the small black jeweled clutch from inside my dresser, slipping my phone in.

I steered clear of make up, choosing just a deep red lipstick. 

The knock on the door came just as i finished slipping into black pumps . 

I opened the door , only to have a dozen red roses thrust into my hands. 

“Wow.” I whispered, glancing at him. He looked extra handsome, a blood red shirt clinging to his torso, a think black tie knotted at his neck. He gave me a devilish wink, eyes flitting all over me , licking his lips. 

i tamped down the urge to back away, reminding myself that I was supposed to be moving on. Even if it wasn’t with Jungkook, he had asked me out on a date and I had agreed. I would enjoy myself tonight. 

“Gorgeous. Ready?”

“Let me just put these in water...” I smiled at him, placing the stems into the cut glass decanter on the nearest table. I emptied the small bottle of water nearby into it , bending over to fix the petals when I felt him press right up against me. 

Startling, i nearly spilled the water all over the floor, breath catching when his chest met my back . I felt myself trembling a bit because of how warm he felt, even with the inches between us and I could smell him, the subtle cologne that handsome men wear , just to drive women crazy. 

The urge to lean into his body was so strong I had to clench my fists. Apparently,  my body was  very much on board with moving on even if my heart wasn’t. Jungkook made things worse by moaning into my ear, chin resting on my shoulder as he lightly gripped my waist, before reaching over with other hand, plucking one scarlet bloom from the bunch  

I swallowed as he wrapped both arms around me in a backhug , holding the bloom up in front of my face. 

“Do you like the scent of it?” His lips brushed my ear and I grinned. I hadn’t been flirted with , like this in years. I bent my head to lightly breath in the air near the bloom, enjoying the subtle scent. “It’s lovely.” I said honestly. 

He  casually broke the stem off, a couple of inches from the where the petals began. 

“Turn around for me “ Jungkook whispered in my ear again. I turned around quickly, my lips inches from his, refusing to back away, staring right at him. He smirked, bringing the flower up to the small upknot on the side of my head. 

I stayed still as he carefully pulled a single bobby pin out, sticking the stem into my hair before casually using his teeth to pry open the pin again and slotting it into my hair, pinning the flower in place. 

Apparently, watching Jungkook pin a rose into my hair was winning brownie points for him in my brain, because my entire body went warm , my heart beating faster. 

“I’m scared to ask why you’re so good at this...” I smiled and he raised an eyebrow.

“I have a daughter remember? Its a lot of ribbons and bows and pins.” He grinned. 

The idea that Jungkook did his daughter’s hair for her, with ribbons and flowers was so ridiculously endearing I wanted to coo. 

“There. Now we match.... A little.” he smiled. 

I stared at him, the black tie on his red shirt and the red rose against my black dress. 

“Smart. “ I nodded. 

“Shall we leave?”

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

“I had fun tonight.” Jungkook hesitated . 

The night had been so much more fun than I’d anticipated. Jungkook somehow convincing me to party crash someone’s engagement party near the pool with an open bar and ridiculous ninety’s party music. But I’d danced to my heart’s content, my hair coming undone half way through and I was only a little upset that I’d lost the red rose in the middle of people.

“I had a lot of fun too Jungkook’ah..” I smiled, honest . 

“We should do this again. Since we never got to actually talk. It was just you getting progressively drunk and dancing like you wanted to pee.” He teased and I pouted. 

I reached out and pressed a palm to his face...his skin smooth under my skin and I felt myself swaying just a little, lethargic and a little aroused from the scent of him.

“Wanna get another drink?” And then because I was completely gone and had no filter, “ If you come inside....maybe I’ll let you cum inside. if you know what I mean.....” I drawled, waggling my eyebrows. 

Jungkook’s face morphed into one of absolute shock, lips parted and then he laughed so hard he choked, coughing. 

“Wow. You  are  drunk.” He shook his head, looking amused. “ How about this.... I’ll come in and tuck you into bed and if you drink a couple of glasses of water for me, I will not tease you about this tomorrow.” He offered. 

I pouted. 

“You don’t wanna come inside...?”

“Oh baby , you have no idea how bad I wanna come inside.....but not like this” He brushed the hair off my brow, kissing my forehead...” Ask me again when you’re sober and we’ll work something out. Now let’s get you into bed.” 

I groaned as he dragged me into the bedroom. 

The moment my head hit the pillow, I fell asleep. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~!~

Author’s note : Not me falling in love with the second lead in my own story ugh.  He’s gonna get a separate story. I’m gonna write a whole entire fic for CFO! Jungkook , adorable single dad of cute little girl. 

I don’t have a tag list for this fic so please do let me know if you want to be tagged !!! 

[marindram]

full transcription of Marin's blog from Omega Mart!

huge thanks to @b0chelly for recording a scroll-through, which i typed this out from. (and warning for Omega Mart lore/story spoilers. second half is in reblog)

Marinknows.best

Location: Seven Monolith Village

Last Login: 12/31/2019

Profile Views: 101,275

About me: I love listening to music and glitter

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June 26, 2018

Happy Birthday to meeeeeeeeee!

So 14 feels way different than 13. For real. I think it's because I was expecting 13 to feel different, but sometimes when you expect something it turns out the opposite ya know?

Plus, 13 is like, "I'm new to being a teenager!!"

14 is more like, "I'm becoming the person I want to be." At least that's how I want it to be. I wanted to start this blog as a record of all that.

I should ask Did you guys feel the same way when you turned 13 and 14?

But probably nobody's gonna read this because I'm just a weirdo in the weird dessert. I mean, I know my best friend Jesse is reading this (hi Jesse). Besides her, crickets.

But yeah, if you are reading this and you don't know me - I live in Seven Monolith Village, a teensy tiny town that you've only heard of if you're into aliens or homesteading. And I'm literally stuck. As in, I'm physically unable to leave. My first memories are of all the adults in my life (Charlie, my great-uncle/father-figure - Rose, my what? Roommate? Mother-figure? Pseudo-aunt? All of the above? and my mom, Cecelia. who doesn't live here) telling me that for some reason, there's something wrong with me that makes it so I can't leave a certain radius of where we live. I got older and thought that they were just exaggerating to keep me safe, but then last year I tried. And it was, let's just say not good.

Anyway. That part of my life sucks, but not everything sucks. This year is all about Marin Dram 2.0. Not new, but definitely improved.

And maybe someday, somehow somebody will read this and care about what I have to say. Somebodies, even. Until then, this is Marin Dram signing off and sending my lame contemplations into the void!

July 1, 2018

Things I Want To Do Before I Turn 20 (and some of these will never happen like are literally unable to happen but JUST LET ME DREAM

1. Kiss someone (who???)

2. Meet HTB (kiss him) (jk he would never) (plus meeting him would be enough)

3. Go to Paris

4. Go to Rome (or somewhere cooler in Italy, look up where is the best pasta???)

5. Go to Greenland (why not???)

6. Go to New York City

7. Go to LA (with a dream and my cardigan lol)

8. Go to the Grand Canyon (this isn't mine, but 9, Jesse is sitting right here and she went to the GC when we were 12 and she's like blah blah blah it's my favorite place in the world and you'll love it. I'm doing this so she'll shut up.

9. Live in a normal house with normal rooms → ideally 12 of them: living room AND TV room, kitchen, dining room, 3 bathrooms, 3 bedrooms, study/library.

-plus an upstairs downstairs

-I'm willing to compromise on the number of rooms as long as there's more than ONE for TWO PEOPLE and I got my own

-plus an upstairs/downstairs

-I'm willing to compromise on the number of rooms as long as there's more than ONE for TWO PEOPLE and I get my own room with an actual door. Very into doors.

10. Go to a mall (Jesse says there's a bunch of bonkers ones in Vegas)

11. Make friends who aren't Jesse (no offense, Jesse)

12. Get Cecelia (my "mom") to teach me about business stuff so I can open my own cool coffeeshop/bookstore someday

13. Learn to drive (ask Charlie to teach me, he's obsessed with his truck) (Jesse says she can teach me because she's Little Miss Mechanic and thinks she knows everything about cars but news flash Jesse: you're you get than me)

14. Figure out my signature style- like I want people to send me pictures of things and be like "this just screamed Marin" and for that to be true

15. Liquid eyeliner??

16. I'm stopping here because I just read over all this and want to die/cry because easily 3/4 of these are literally impossible?

17. Kill me

18. Bye

19. Lololol Charlie just came in and I was complaining about this, not being able to leave and stuff, etc and he said that I should visit new places by... reading books?? And I mean I like to read. But dude. That's the dumbest thing I've ever head.

July 30, 2018

Okay so this is what I want my life to look like:

I want a pink room. Not just pink... P I N K. Cool pink wallpaper (floral? jacquard??), pink carpet, lots of pink flowers everywhere, a four-poster bed with a pink silk canopy, lots of cool pink throw pillows. Like, so pink that

people think I'm being sarcastic! Oh, and BOOKS. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases, and some of the shelves have, like, STUFF on them that isn't books, like gifts people gave me, or things I've collected on my JOURNEYS. You know, normal stuff that people who live on normal places and do normal things have.

If I lived in in this room, it'd be in awhite three-story house at the end of a cul-de-sac (did you know "culs-de-sac" is the plural? Not "cul-de-sacs"? crazy) and I'd wear very classic girly clothes and my hair would always do what I wanted it to. It'd be one of those towns that people call small, but it's actually a city. just one with a kinda small, cozy feeling. Somewhere that gets cold enough to wear cute jackets but not so cold I have to to like, shovel my driveway. Not a non-place with like 100 people where you can't even go outside without going crazy.

August 2nd, 2018

I guess I should explain where I live, for all my avid fans out there! (lol) (hello??)

So like... I don't live on Earth. At least, not the Earth you think of when you think of EARTH. I live in some some weird off-brand version of Earth called the Forked Earth where there are aliens and magic wells of magic energy and everything is MAGIC but like the crappy kind of magic, where the sun never fully rises and some goo called "runoff" has made everything wacky and oh yeah, my mom is responsible for that and everyone here hates her!! LOL

Also, I can't leave! Like, literally can't! Rose says I'm a "special child of Source" and that's why but that LITERALLY explains tells me nothing, in fact it just raises further questions that no one can seem to answer! AHHHHHHHHHH

Anyway, the last time I tried to leave I felt. When I try to leave I feel like I'm being pulled back by something, like you know those old cartoons where someone's on stage doing something dumb and then someone offstage pulls them away with a giant shepard's crook? It felt like that, and when I opened my eyes I was back in 7 Monolith Village. UGH.

I know this sounds crazy!!!!! But believe me when I say that I am the least crazy person here. Also, """here""" is C R A Z Y. Runoff has made everything the bad kind of psychedelic and then people here actually DRINK IT! Not only do I not DRINK THE STUFF THAT HAS MADE THE WORLD INSANE, I also do not talk to aliens (or whatever Nula are) like Rose or believe crazy conspiracy theories like Charlie, so I believe that qualifies me as the most normal person in the Forked Earth, thank you for this honor, I accept this award with humility and grace!

September 4, 2018

I had the weirdest dream last night?? I was swimming in a pool full of cereal, and when I came up for air, my mom was pouring milk on my head like she was rinsing my hair. She had her hand over my face like I was a little kid and she was shielding me from soap getting in my eyes.

Anyway I have no idea what it's supposed to mean. I went to bed hungry and I need to take a shower? Lol

October 16, 2018

I was trying to hide this entry from Jesse, but JESSE IS A NOSY PERSON. She says that blogs are for readers, and if I wanted something to be private then I should "Just write in a fucking notebook and hide it under your bed like a normal person, Marin." I'm allowed to have secrets!! Anyway, I'm making her a freaking playlist, that's why I wouldn't tell her what I was writing about. but EVEN STILL! I'm allowed to have secrets!! But I have this blog because I wanna get my feelings out, I wanna see everything in my head typed out all nice in a way that doesn't make it look insane. You know? I don't know who I'm asking.) Because, it's not like I go to a normal school or have a normal life where I'm surrounded by normal people I can talk to. No one knows about me! I'm trapped in this crazy place and This blog is my only outlet to the world outside. I KNOW that's heavy but it's true! The point is: Jesse's birthday is coming up. The central consistent thing in pretty much my whole life is sharing headphones with her and listening to music. The soundtrack to my entire existence is her. I wish I had money and could buy her the best presents of all time, but I can make her the best playlist of all time. I want it to be so good it feels like magic. I want her to think I'm magic. I had another dream the other night. I don't remember much, just glitter. I must be crafting too much. Or looking at festival makeup tutorials. Or both.

November 12, 2018

WARNING- Weird thoughts ahead, lol.

I can never tell which feelings are normal, and which are me being a giant weirdo. But for as long as I can remember, I've had this feeling like every part of my body that's possible to have a ribbon tied around it, has a ribbon tied around it. It's so weird. I can't see the other end of the ribbons - how far they go. where they're attached, nothing. And sometimes it's fine, because sometimes I can hardly feel them. I can forget about them for days at a time, weeks, months if I'm lucky. But then other times I can feel them like, pulling at me. It's freaking spooky, to have something pulling at you from somewhere you can't see. I can't tell if it's pulling me toward whatever it is? Or if it's trying to warn me? Or if I'm just insane??

Does that make sense? Does anybody else feel that way? (she asks into the void)

So idk I guess this ribbons-feeling is why I'm really careful all the time. Like I'm just a careful person. Charlie tried to give me a hard time about it, and I can't be like "I don't wanna pull back in the ribbons too hard without realizing it and wreck something!" because he'd be like "WTF Marin, do we need to get you help?" But also, more and more, I want to be the opposite of careful. I want to take a pair of comically oversized scissors and cut the ribbons into so many pieces that nobody can even tell what they are any more.

I don't know why I'm such a freak, only that I am. I don't know why I can't leave 7 Monolith, only that I can't. But there must be a reason, even if I can't see it, and I feel like it makes sense that the ribbons-feeling is part of that reason, right?

There's just a lot.

January 15, 2019

Happy new year! Lol I forgot to write on the actual first day of 2019, but OH WELL!

I got this new glitter nail polish, thanks to the monthly makeup subscription box my "mom" sends me as an outlet for her abandonment guilt. It has like, every color glitter imaginable without quite reading as "rainbow" which is fine just not really what I was in the mood for and it's vaguely halographic and shifts into all these different colors depending on the light. I'm obsessed. Anyway.

I was putting on another layer because I chipped it like 20 minutes into wearing it, and all of a sudden I had this feeling like I recognized the glitter? Like I felt this thing way deep in my gut and for a minute I couldn't breathe. It's the closest thing I've felt to how books and movies make Christmas look. Like I was home, with family, cookies and cider and all that stuff. Familiar and safe. I almost didn't recognize that feeling. And it came from the nail polish. How weird is that.

I mean, I don't want to make it sound like I've had this awful Charles Dickens childhood - Rose and Charlie are the best ever and always there for me and I love them a lot. But things never feel like...home. You know?

My mom always says this cryptic stuff about how I'm "special" and I wanna strangle her because I'm not, but you try getting my mom to stop doing anything she wants to do. Rose told me once that one day, I would "lead the charge into a new era of existence and access" because I'm "of the Source" and I was like uhhhh okay?? Charlie mostly treats me pretty normal, except when I ask him questions about our family. my mom or any Dram. He knows that I want to know more about them and he's my only real entrypoint, but apparently he's like the black sheep of that whole family. He and my mom were close way back right before I was born, but now whenever she comes to visit he barely even looks at her.

So that's to say: nobody tells me anything, ever.

January 16, 2019

Okay this is so weird. I wrote that entry yesterday about glitter and then last night I dreamed about glitter. Then I woke up with purple glitter in my bed?? Like not a lot, so at first I thought it was from my nail polish, but it was just a handful of purely purple glitter that looks nothing like my nail polish. SO WEIRD!!!!!!

February 14, 2019

Rose has an old book full of "ye olde" style fairy tales, and I flipped through it for the first time in forever today.

Not so weirdly, I've always been drawn to the story of Rapunzel.

Rapunzel couldn't leave the tower, or else she'd break her neck and die.

Same.

February 19, 2019

I was reading this article the other day in one of the teen magazines my "mom" gets me a subscription to and it was all about body positivity, which is great, but it was basically just like "wear a crop top if you wannna wear a crop top! it doesn't matter what size you are! You go, girl!" And like, sure. Yes. I am all for that. But doesn't it seem like there are some steps missing in there? Like, I can physically put on a crop top and wear it outside. But how do I convince myself that everybody isn't looking at me and making fun of me in their minds? How do I unlearn the last almost-fifteen years? How do I get actually positive about my body, not just put on a crop top and fight the urge to cry all day?

It's the same thing like when my mom sends me brochures from the CEO camp she ten when she was my age (her dad started the camp for her, which is an insane thing just by itself, but she did all the work, which is even more insane) and she's like "Marin, you lack direction for your life" and I'm like, cool mom. Yeah. I can see that. What I can't see is how to get there from here.

March 2, 2019

This is what I want my life to look like, volume 2:

The walls of my room are covered in Polaroids of me and my friends. There are lots of mirrors in all kinds of shapes. hearts and moons and stars. There's a record player and a lot of vintage records by Billie Holiday and Lena Horne and Peggy Lee and Nina Simone. And Christmas lights! Everywhere! Lots of of pink and purple Christmas lights everywhere.

If I lived in this room, I'd have so many friends and be part of so many clubs. My best friend would have a collection of vintage cameras, and every place we go to that has a photo booth, we'd get photos taken. Every time I'd look at myself in one of those mirrors, I'd feel happy at what I see and never weird or sad. (Jesse hates taking pictures, so even when I actually do normal stuff with her there's no evidence. What even is a life supposed to be without evidence? That's not an actual question you need to answer Jesse, it's just a question)

Anyway, if I lived in this kind of room, my mom would probably be like, an art history professor at a liberal arts college. That's how come everything looks so cool, because I would know stuff about art. My mom and I would love to try new recipes together. We get each other new cookbooks for every special occasion, and right now we're working out way through a Moroccan one. Moroccan Mondays.

In actuality, there's a dust storm happening outside and my eyes sting.

March 9, 2019

Here's what I'm obsessed with lately.

Can. You. EVEN???

February 3, 2020

Omg I totally forgot this blog existed!!

I lost the password and instead of just resetting it I got in one of my super stubborn moods (Taurus moon lol) and just kept putting in guesses and jokes on me, it locked me out. Anyway, that's a boring story.

But my friend Ximena is really good at hacking and stuff, so she got me back in. Yeah you read that right - I have friends. Obviously a lot has happened since my last post. Ximena moved out here a couple months ago (X's family used to live here but they moved away a while ago) and she introduced me to Lora who I sorta-not-really already knew, and Jesse and I have been hanging out with them a ton. Jesse kind of more than me. Which is fine!!

Anyway I'm 15 now? If I lived somewhere normal I'd be psyched about almost being 16, because I'd get a car and have a Sweet Sixteen and eat a huge PINK cake, but I don't!

February 16, 2020

I read this fanfic the other night that was written in the second person so everything was like "you." "you're doing this" etc you know?

So... You go to a drive-in movie with Heartthrob Boy, and he spills soda on you by accident. And you take off your shirt ( you have a tank top on, don't worry) to clean it up, bit you're still all sticky and self-conscious about being sticky and HTB like... used his tongue to get it off??? AAHHHHH I'M DISGUSTING

but also I wonder if a boy will ever touch any part of me with his tongue

March 2, 2020

Hi I don't know if you heard but I have friends :)))

March 15, 2020

I think I'm so into painting my nails and doing my hair because those are things that always fit. I don't have to worry about places not carrying about a size 8, or places that carry XLs but when you read the measurements they're actually size 8s too and it's like jesus if that's an XL what am I

My "mom" was confused why I needed new pants because mine still look new, but I showed her the thigh holes and she was like "that's a weird place for a hole, how did that happen" and I realized that when your legs are a certain size, you just don't know about thigh rub and what it does to clothes. Pants could just last for years.

No matter what, I can paint my nails with a different color nail polish on every finger, and I can always do a braid crown. And I know I'm cute as hell, etc, so this is not a Marin Needs to Learn to Love Herself thing. It's just an UGH thing

April 17, 2020

So Rose does all these Source experiments on plants and flowers and stuff. Tbh, it's just one if those things I hardly even register anymore because it's just always there. She's explained to me a million times what Source is/does/means, but the way Rose explains things sometimes is just a LOT to take in and she refers to me as a "child of Source" but I kinda figure that's like "child of God" right? What else would that mean?

But anyway, it's really annoying because dried flowers are a part of my new aesthetic and I pinned a bunch of them up on my wall but I woke up this morning to a freaking jungle of very alive flowers. I freaked out. on Rose, and she Rose said she didn't do it and I was like WELL THEN WHO DID and she said that I did??

Which like. Obviously that doesn't make sense. I asked her what she meant and She just shook her head and said " It's happening. We should have known" which is some horror movie shit that she refused to elaborate on. I love to feel safe and normal!!

Or maybe it's not a horror movie at all. But maybe it's a superhero movie? Maybe there's some kind of origin story I don't know about yet, and all of this will be worth it once I figure out my powers. I wonder what my costume will look like. Lol.

April 23, 2020

Is it possible to die from longing? I know that sounds melodramatic, but I'm also kinda serious?? Because it seems like one of those things that could fester and get infected and kill you. It's like when you fall down and bang up your knee, and you need to put a band-aid on the scrape for a while, but THEN you need to air it out - but how do you know when you're supposed to do each one of those things? And if you do either one too much, your knee gets infected. What if I smother my heart with band-aids for too long and it gets infected? This isn't about anybody. I just keep having these dreams about someone I never expected to have dreams about and they're so intense that they keep leaking into my life and I wonder if I need to do something about them.

May 2, 2020

So Jesse's gotten really into metal music, and I tried to get her to play me something since, AS PREVIOUSLY ESTABLISHED, that's what we've literally ALWAYS DONE with music and each other, and she kinda looked at Ximena out of the corner of her eye and said like "I don't think it's really your thing" And it was the meanest thing anybody's ever said to me.

So later I looked up Zenion, the band she was talking about, and I listened to every single fucking song they've ever recorded turned up as loud as it could go with my own headphones that are better than hers anyway, and I loved it. And I didn't love it just because she said I wouldn't. I loved it because it was loud and weird and wild and when I listened to it it made me feel like it's not crazy when so feel stuff so hard it's like my heart's gonna vibrate out of my body. And I would have told Jesse all this and we could have shared it, but I guess she thinks just because I like HTB and glitter and stuff, I don't have the capacity for anything else.

She clearly doesn't know me at all. So much for any kind of whatever, why would she ever want to kiss someone she clearly sees as like a stupid baby.

May 7, 2020

The dreams are getting weirder and they're happening more. I'm getting scared to go to sleep. Not that the dreams are always scary (they almost never are, or not scary like in a typically scary horror movie way). I mean, I've only ever been me. I don't know what other peoples' dreams are like.

The other night in one I was jumping on a trampoline, which is something I've never done in real life. I told Rose about it when I woke up, and she said "do you even know how to jump on a trampoline?" and I said "Rose, it's not like riding a bike. You don't have to learn. You just jump." and then we got into this whole thing about how some things we just know, and jumping's one of them, and how that's so weird. Sometimes I really like talking to Rose about stuff.

May 19, 2020

So, it's prom season in the real world. If I lived somewhere normal, my prom dress would be pink with lots of tulle and silk flowers at the shoulders, and it would fit perfectly and trying in dresses would be fun and not anxiety-inducing.

But since there are only like 10 teenagers currently in 7MV, were not having a homecoming. Cool.

May 27, 2020

So, mom came to visit this weekend, and I asked her about her prom. She was Typical Cecelia at first, very "Prom is a waste of time and money, Marin. It's a night when lesser people play dress-up to engage with their aspirations of grandeur." And I was like eyeroll forever and just stopped talking. BUT THEN she actually talked to me like a human being. She was like, "I actually didn't go to my prom" and when I asked her why she said that she didn't have a date, and was very self-conscious about it. I almost passed out at her admitting that she's ever been anything less than perfect.

(gonna continue this in reblog)

[stargazer-balladeer]

What kind of boyfriend are they? [Persona]

Characters Included: Akira Kurusu, Akechi Goro, Yosuke Hanamura, Yu Narukami, Minato Arisato & Shinjiro Aragaki

Note: I'm mixing Persona 3, 4 & 5! :3 Except all of them are my fav characters (HUSBANDOS—) ahem. Anyway. I hope ya'll enjoy this :3 (This is over 500+ words... whOOPS--)

Reader’s Gender: Neutral

Warning: Spoilers

Akira Kurusu

-Akira is the kind of boyfriend that teases the heck out of you. Like he loves to fluster you so much from embarrassment, whether from kissing you in public or simply holding your hands. He'll have that smirk on his face, its always present. (You're wondering if it's permanent though—)

-But I can also see Akira as the guy who loves someone, really loves that one (aside from the fact that he dates multiple girls in the game—). The reason why he teases you is because he loves you, and for that reason, when he finds that you are close to fainting or uncomfortable, he'll stop teasing you. He doesn't want you fainting or uncomfortable around him!

-He's also a natural romantic guy. Like he'll give you flowers and gifts (or trinkets he found). He wants to spoil you so much but he has limited money, so he resorted to small gifts and trinkets that reminded him of you. Your dates consist of staying at the LeBlanc, enjoying the cafe itself or inside the attic (i.e: his room).

-He loves affection so much, but not because he's touch-starved, he simply just loves you so much (yes, I'll say it over and over again :3). If you want cuddles, then cuddles you get. No matter where, but I think he prefers it private since, you know, his reputation? He just doesn't want to affect your reputation because of his ;-; But kisses, on the other hand, he can do it even in public, he has no shame -3- He'll even leave a kiss on you for teasing purposes (and to see your flustered self). He'll just laugh at your reaction, finding every reaction you have is cute on you. (He also has a picture of you as his wallpaper in his phone :) and his friends knows it since he shows it to them.. he's so proud and in-love with you :3)

-But if you don't like or uncomfortable of affection or him touching you, he understands. He'll always ask permission before holding you or kissing you. He respects your privacy and comfort more than his own. If you find uncomfortable, then he'll find a way for it to make it comfortable with you.

-I can see Akira giving his s/o a piggyback-ride, no matter whether you weigh heavily or just right (but if you weigh very lightly, he'll be concerned). He really doesn't mind your weight at all (he likes to say you don't weigh a lot). I can also see him as a domestic guy, he learned how to cook (thanks to Sojiro) and learned to take care of animals (Morgana, lol).

-He's protective of you. If you're in the Phantom Thieves, double-protectiveness over you activated. He just doesn't want you to get hurt ;-; He's scared of losing you in the Metaverse. So if an attack is directed at you, he'll get the hit. If you get hit while he isn't paying attention (probably coming up a strategy), after the battle, he'll immediately patch you up or go to a nearby resting place. And I can also see the rest of the Team also being protective of you :3

-Akira is also observant about you, even if he doesn't look like it. So he knows immediately when you're upset or uncomfortable. In which case, he'll drag you away from the source immediately. Leaving that person dumbfounded.

-If you feel sad about something, the actions of Akira would depend on how severe your sadness or situation is (though they are still similar to one another). Did someone talk bad about you? Don't worry, Akira would hug you and voice out all of the good things about you (and probably imagine how he'll defeat that person's shadow). Did someone close to you recently die? Akira will bring some comfort food to you (or to his place if you went there) and comfort you while eating. Are you upset because of your grades? "Treasure.. have you seen Ryuji's?" but in all seriousness, he'll offer to help you study for the next test. Are you having a existential crisis? He'll also comfort you as he voice out how important you are to him, and that's the reason why he calls you his "treasure". Are you sad because everyone is unique and you're just you? Akira would say how special you are to him and that you don't need to stand out.

-Long story short, he'll comfort you no matter what. :) Can I have a Akira pls? -3- I'm getting jealous over here...

-But if he needs comforting, please comfort him ;-; Sometimes, all of the duties of handling his rehabilitation, school and being the Phantom Thief leader and people in general gets to him. He's still a kid— teenager. And it gets to him sometimes. He's the kind of guy that bottles his emotions up until it cannot anymore hold itself together. So please comfort this boi ;-;

-Overall, he's like a perfect boyfriend :)

Goro Akechi

-Akechi is somewhat-like Akira, yet different at the same time. He's hesitant to pursue or enter a relationship because of his Detective (and other) duties, he fear that he cannot handle a relationship because of that. So the word "surprise" might be an understatement at how Akechi feels as you, his now newly-announced s/o, told him that you just want to love him and lets him do whatever he does. Akechi was actually glad to have someone like you his s/o, someone who understands and love him at the same time. Akechi would be lying if he didn't find you attractive when you first meet.

-Akechi will tease you time from time, enjoying every reaction your making each time, it never fails to put a smile on his face. But he might not be into PDA, since he likes to keep your relationship a secret to the world (media). He tells you so that you won't have to fear about his fanbase. But in reality, he just fears that if Shido knows about you, he would use you against Akechi (which he doesn't like -3-).

-Let's face it, he has you as his wallpaper in his phone. Whenever he feels lonely or just have a moment to himself, he'll just open his phone and stares at his wallpaper. He unconsciously smiles at you in the picture as he continues his day with a smile present on his face. Many people who's near to him noted how happy he was when he looks at his phone for some reason. But Akira manages to find out while he's raising his confidant level for Akechi :)

-Akechi would notice every quirks and twitches you have, since undoubtedly, he has a keen and observant eyes. He would immediately know which ones you like, which ones you don't like, how comfortable you are, how uncomfortable you currently are, and more. But that doesn't make him a stalker >:( He just wants to know which ones you prefer and how comfortable you are. He prioritizes your comfort over his :)

-Akechi always put his mask on around everyone else, but to you? His mask is slowly slipping away. If you play your cards right, he might reveal his true self to you and only you. But he won't tell you about Shido, since he still fears your safety. He tells you partly everything about his childhood, how his life is in the orphanage and all that. Akechi'll mentally prepare himself for you reaction, are you disgusted? Would you leave him now that you know? Those thoughts ran through his head. When (not if because you chose him, how dare you not accepting him >:(.) you accept him though, he'll start to cry.

-Akechi might not be a natural at being romantic, but he tries. I can see him as a gentlemen type though :3, like he'll open doors for you and pulls the chair for you. He'll also give you gifts and trinkets he saw while in his detective duties. I imagine him giving you your favorite flower every meeting (or dates) you two have, like if you're just walking and suddenly come across Akechi, he (for some reason) has your favorite flower at hand and ready to give it to you. Expect your house to be filled with flowers with how often you two meet.

-But its not everyday you two meet, note this. Akechi already warned you about his job since it takes up most of his time, so he's usually not able to meet you as often as he likes to. But he'll call or text you if he has free time, probably asking how you are and lets you rant about what happened during the day. Akechi loves hearing your voice, so he lets you rant as long as you want. If he's given a day-off (so rare ;-;), he'll want to spend it with you. Though he prefers to stay at home, but if you want to go somewhere, he'll concede.

-Your dates consist of going to restaurants, cafe and LeBlanc. This boi loves pancakes, so you better bring him to a restaurant where they serve pancakes X3. But if you can cook pancakes, Akechi would probably want to marry you on the spot :). Whenever you are in LeBlanc though, you would stare at the duo trying out-wit each other, its amusing to you how frustrated Akechi is and smug Akira is.

-But I can see Akechi being touch-starved since he doesn't have anyone while growing up, so he practically clings to you like a koala. But if you're uncomfortable with affectionate touches, he doesn't mind either. Just please hold his hand so that he feels safe (it also settles his mind and heart knowing you're still here by his side ;-;).

-If you're in the Phantom Thieves (oh boy, here we go), Akechi would be scared at the idea of having to kill you and the rest of the team. He knows how much the group of misfits means to you, but he knows he has to do the task he's given. So until that time come, just stay in his arms and let him love you while he still can ;-; (I'm making this depressing..). While still into the subject of comforting, if he starts to cry because of all the stress, please comfort him ;-; Though I can also see him pushing you away, in fear you'll get hurt. Just persist and continue to comfort him :) He'll slowly warm up to you.

-If you need comforting though, he'll get awkward and not know how to comfort you. Don't blame him though (because he never had anyone, remember?). He'll try his best to comfort you, and by that I mean letting you cry as he holds you. He'll make you rant about what you're sad about, and just listens to you. After the crying mess, he'll drag you to the TV to watch a movie. He did this so that whatever the reason behind your crying would be temporarily be gone. But if it involve some school issues, he'll help you there since he knows about that area. But the others? Yeah, haha... no.

-Akechi isn't a perfect boyfriend but he tries :) (Just prepare yourself in breaking up with him when you reach Shido's Palace :(.)

Yosuke Hanamura

-Yosuke is a bit of a tease but not too much, only eliciting a reaction from you. Yosuke is also a bit shy when it comes to the subject of romance, so he might be awkward and shy at times (this is the moments where you have to take the lead). Like that time where he first asked you out on a date, he's so nervous that he stumbles with his words (the rest of his friends were cheering for him from behind). You have to connect the dots if you ever want to understand what he's trying to say, and you better say yes :)

-He's not really into PDA like most people expect (probably because of his somewhat-shyness). But he always likes to hold hands with you. Not many people know you two are together though, only his friends (and parents) since you two act like best friends still. His friends also relentlessly tease the both of you (mainly Yosuke though), much to his dismay.

-Yosuke also wants to spoil you so he spend all of his money getting what you want, so please don't abuse this and pLEASE MAKE HIM STOP! Because Yosuke might end up being more broke than ever ;-; He's too kind...

-Yosuke might take a while to get used to the fact that you two are a couple (since he's still hang-up with Saki's death), but when he does get used to it, prepare yourself. Yosuke loves giving you back-hugs, even more if its a back-hug you didn't expect. He just hugs you from behind and stuff his face into your neck or hair, either way they smell good. Yes, he loves your smell, got a problem? He also loves peppering you with kisses on your neck (not in a sensual way though!), he doesn't know why but he does it. If you're ticklish in that area, it just gives him a reason to do just that (he loves the sound of your laughter).

-He shares his headphones with you and lets you borrow it for the rest of the day if you want. He's also the kind of guy that if you're short, places his head on top of your head and arms around your figure and sway the both of you (I like this idea, it's too adorable >w<). Also the kind of guy that uses his height as an advantage to grab an item you need and hold it above his head while laughing as you try to get it back. This is his kind of teasing :)

-Your date consists of Junes or your place (not his because Teddie is there). Junes is his favorite place so if you want to date there, he'll be ecstatic. You two will sit there while eating the food you bought as you two talk about random things you two can think of. I think this is Yosuke's ideal date though, just relaxing and talking. But if his boredom comes to play, be prepared because he's gonna drag you away from Junes or your house and explore Inaba together. Boredom is what Yosuke fears afterall. If you two are hanging out in your house, be prepared for pillow fights and tickle fights because Yosuke is for sure gonna start it :)

-Yosuke would also might use some pick-up lines on you, some cheesy ones and some random ones. If you use a pick-up line on him as well, you two will have a pick-up contest on which one would have the best pick-up line ever. You two will also have inside jokes that only you two understand. Yosuke also loves you pouncing on him from behind and giving you piggy-back rides, but if its in public, he might get embarrassed.

-Being Yosuke's girlfriend also means being great friends with his, mainly Yu. Yu is Yosuke's partner (I SHIP IT!!) so he wants you to meet his partner. The team would instantly welcome you into their group, and they love you very much :3 Yu also hangs out with you and Yosuke, if you or Yosuke suggest it (he ain't telling being a third-wheeler :/). Teddie would also join in on your date if its at Junes, Yosuke easily getting angry at Teddie for interrupting your date.

-If you're in the Investigation Team, he'll get protective of you, acting like you're knight. He'll be damned if you get hit, so he mostly get the hits directed for you. But if you get hit, he'll sulk and beg forgiveness to you (even though its not either your faults that the Shadow is fast enough). He'll also help you train if you have a hard time with your Persona.

-Yosuke is observant and perspective so he notices your mood, quirks and twitches. He'll immediately notice if you're mood dampen, even if its a little he'll notice. He wants to immediately know what's wrong. If you want to cry, he'll let you cry as he holds you close. If you say "I'm fine", Yosuke would argue that you're clearly aren't. Either way, Yosuke would make sure to make you let it all out.

-If you're sad, he'll comfort you. Whatever the reason is, he'll know it later. The first thing to do is comfort you. He'll not immediately ask you to tell him, he'll let you take your time to explain to him why he found you crying (or sad). Is it about grades? Don't worry, it happens. Yosuke would teach you (he's intelligent, he just doesn't know it yet :3). Is it because of bullying (or someone talking bad about you)? Yosuke would get angry at them as he started to rant why they shouldn't do that and that you shouldn't listen to them. Is it because someone close to you died? Yosuke would remain silent as he just hugs you. Long story short, he'll comfort you in every way..

-Remember me stating Yosuke is observant? Yeah, I'm gonna bring it up again. Yosuke prioritizes your comfort over his, as he finds ways for you to be comfortable if you're uncomfortable. Yosuke always reassure you that he doesn't love Saki anymore, but in truth, he's just reassuring himself. But after Yosuke talked to Yu, he'll confront you about this. Please forgive him and comfort him ;-; he needs it. Afterall, first love is much harder to let go of..

-Overall, Yosuke loves and cherishes you. Please be patient with this man as he tries to move on from the death of his first love :)

Yu Narukami

-Yu is the kind of guy that also teases his s/o by kissing their nose, leaving unexpected kiss on the lips and surprising them by hugging them from behind. He loves every flustered reaction you have (and thinks its cute every time). He'll stop if you want, but if not, he'll continue to tease you with his teasing antics. He's also kind of childish (this is my perspective of Yu, don't judge :3) so while holding hands with you, he'll swing it back-and-forth, while also being careful not to hit anyone.

-People can tell that you two are immediately a couple though (from Yu's antics alone), since Yu is an affectionate partner to have. You know the thing where the person's significant other is sitting on a chair while the other is sitting on the floor and in-between their significant other's legs? Yu is on the floor while you are on the chair. This usually results in Yu putting your legs on his shoulders and carrying you around like that, not putting you down until class start or he has to (much to your dismay and embarrassment), which usually Yu reluctantly let you go.

-His friends would gag at the sight of you (Yosuke), but they're super supportive towards their Captain's relationship with you. But they would ask their Leader to tone down his affection towards you.

-Yu loves to cuddle you and peppering you with kisses all over your face, he has no shame (;-; or :)). He's also the kind of guy that stays faithful with one only, and stays with that person because when he loves, he really loves :3 (again, aside from the games :3). He wants you to know about his love for you, and the only way he knows how is engulfing you with it :) He is mature but he lets loose around you because he's so comfortable with you. He's also a domestic-kind of guy (similar to Akira). If you don't how to cook, don't worry! Yu is here to teach you how, starting how to make Curry.

-Yu lets you borrow his jacket (or hoodie) whenever its cold, and usually blush at the sight of you in his clothing. Its usually big since he's so freakin' tall -_- He'll also help you in your projects and homework, usually having it at either your home or his. Though in his, Nanako would pester you two (not in a bad way though). Oh, and also both Dojima and Nanako immediately accepts you as Yu's s/o. So no worries about there :)

-Your dates consist of either houses or exploring Inaba together. Yu's still new in Inaba so he wants to explore it while he still can. Whether you live there or recently moved there (like him) doesn't matter to him. Since you lived there, do you mind showing him around then? If not, don't worry, let's explore together! In houses though, you two just mostly chill. Talking about random stuff while listening to music or watching TV.

-I can see him as a guy that gives you your favorite flower and tuck it in your head :3 (Don't worry, he already got rid of the thorns in it). This guy lives for cheesiness :3 Oh, I forgot to mention. Teddie would tease you and Yu (though very ineffective) and worship you as well since your dating his sensei.

-If you're in the Investigation Team, he'll be very protective of you but he lets you fight (he trusts you that you won't intentionally get hurt :/). But if a Shadow hurt you, Yu would immediately kill it and tend to you. But when it comes to the lady boss (Adachi), Yu would ask you to not join the fight, in fear you would get hurt. If you persist enough, Yu would reluctantly let you join the battle in one condition, stay by his side.

-Yu is also an observant fellow, seemingly enough to figure out a person's true self, even if that person doesn't. Yu can tell if you're not being yourself or not in the mood, he will ask you instantly what's wrong. If you don't tell, Yu would get worried but doesn't press on. He's worried because (if you're not yet in the Team) you might appear in the Midnight Realm or your Shadow self will appear again. So please tell him what's wrong so that his worry will cease. If you do tell him, he'll listen to you.

-If you're sad, he'll comfort you. He'll do it everytime you feel sad or want to cry. He'll hold you close and either bask in silence or listening to you rant. Your choice :)

-Also, Yu spoils you so much to the point that you have to tell him to stop because he might get broke like Yosuke. But he always reassure you that he has spare money. But please stop this boi from spoiling you too much... OR you spoil him in return (he'll gratefully accept whatever you've given him).

-Overall, Yu is an ideal boyfriend to have (I want a Yu :(.)

Minato Arisato

-Minato likes to tease you a bit to see your (cute) flustered reaction, he enjoys seeing you like that afterall. But he won't do it every time. Which is worse because you have to expect the unexpected. Like when you were writing something in your notebook, the next thing you knew that Minato kiss your cheek. Yes, he's a cheeky bastard :)

-Minato also shares his headphones with you and bask in it. If you have a playlist of your own, he'll listen to it with you. Minato is a private boi, so he does little to no PDA. Prefers all of the affection behind doors, his or your dorm. Though he doesn't mind holding hands with you or giving you a hug, only rarely does he give you a kiss in public.

-Minato isn't as affectionate as the other leaders are (almost all of them are except him ;-;), but he tries his best. Like Yu, he shows his love for you through actions instead of words since talking is a pain for him. He'll cuddle you inside either your dorms and pepper you kisses all over your face. He also has no shame ;).

-He prefers to relax and chill since he doesn't want to waste energy (I'm having Oreki vibes here owo'). So his ideal date is to just chillax in the bed, curled up with one another, and cuddling each other. He likes the feeling of your legs entangle with his though. And this is basically your date! Though he will also take you out to Paulownia Mall or anywhere since he doesn't want you to cope up in the room for too long.

-Minato also likes giving you gifts and small trinkets while he's going around town, stating that they remind him of you. He will also remember everything you said to him, which is handy since he also remembers which ones you want. You probably didn't know this so when its either your birthday or Christmas, you'll be surprised to see the thing you wanted to have.

-Minato loves everything about you, your hair, your eyes, your voice, your laughter, your hands, just basically everything. This is the only time he'll be vocal about it, much to your embarrassment. He'll also give you a piggy-back ride if you want, even in public. He might not look like much, but he's pretty strong for a short guy. (Probably from all the training he has done with Akihiko :).)

-The SEES basically accepts you by this point, since you make their Leader happy, their fine with you. Junpei might flirt with you every now and then. Yukari would talk with you about girl things. Akihiko might also drag you to his training session, in which Minato drags you away from your senpai -w- Basically, they just accept you to their wholesome family. Also, Aigis might thanked you for making their Leader happy.

-If you're in the SEES, Minato would still treat you like any other member. Except for the fact that he's stuck by your side through the journey to reach Tartarus' top. He'll help you train your Persona if you need training.

-Minato is also observant about you (all of these bois are observant -_-), so he will instantly know when something is wrong. But he might not let you know about it, and lets it go along. It isn't until you two are alone in the room when he asks you what's wrong. You don't need to answer him, just let him scoop you up in his arms. He respects your privacy though if you want to left alone, but be aware that you'll find him sleeping outside of your door.

-If you're upset about something, he'll know what's bothering you even if you don't tell him, he just knows. For now, he'll comfort you. After that, he'll deal with the problem. If its about someone talking bad about you, he'll get Mitsuru involve. If its about projects and homework or not understanding the lesson, he'll help and teach you about it. He's a smart boi.

-I can see Minato finding it adorable at what you look like with his clothes, he just finds it so cute. He lets you steal his clothes though. As long as you wear them, it's fine. Though you need to return those or else he has nothing left to wear.

-Overall, Minato is a private affectionate bby :)

Shinjiro Aragaki

-Shinjiro doesn't tease often as the previous bois does, but he does tease. If you have a short stature, he'll get what you were getting and hold it above his head while watching you with a smirk on his face as you tried to get it from him. If he's feeling bold, he might place a kiss on your mouth and chuckle at your surprised, flustered face. Though he doesn't do this often.

-Shinjiro likes ruffling your hair for some reason. He won't admit it but he feels relaxed whenever he feels your hair or ran his fingers through your hair, it just feels so relaxing and calm for him. He also likes pinching you whenever he gets annoyed at you, if you pinch back, you two will have a pinching contest.

-Shinjiro has a hard time opening up to other people, so its a huge achievement if you manage to make him your boyfriend. He'll be flustered by it of course as he looks away while blushing ever-so-slightly. He's a bit of a tsun-tsun. But everyone who knows him (Akihiko and Mitsuru) would take note how Shinjiro's face soften around you, you can almost see a faint smile on his face whenever he looks at you. "He looks like a lovesick puppy." - Mitsuru, 2009

-Shinjiro isn't into PDA, so whenever you want to hold hands with him, he'll get flustered. But he won't refuse as he removes his hand from his pocket and holds your hand with his. He's just embarrassed. He'll drag you places to places, probably explore the town while you two can.

-He's not afraid to speak his mind though, beware. He'll speak without hesitation if you did something bad or do something stupid. If you did do something stupid, he'll snicker while teasingly taunting you. You'll get embarrassed by this of course. But when you two started to eat, you'll laugh at his comments about the food. His snide remarks never fails to make you laugh.

-Shinjiro allows you to take off his beanie and place it on your head, he might need to look away to hide his embarrassment and flustered self. His mind is racing on how cute you look with his beanie, WHY DOES THAT BEANIE LOOK BETTER ON YOU RATHER ON HIM?! He'll never understand that logic ever.

-Be prepared as well for competitions and playful fights, because this guy is competitive like Akihiko. He'll playfully banter with you about the difference between some things. Also, he'll be embarrassed when you find out that he cooks way better than you. If you ask if you can have some, he'll immediately say no. But if you continue to pester him, he'll soon give in. Be prepared to taste Heaven :)

-Shinjiro is insecure to himself because there is so much better guys out there for you, yet you chose him. Someone who'll not live long, someone who'll eventually leave you alone with a shattered heart. His mind will always plague this scenarios over and over again, he'll even be wide-awake at night just thinking about it. When he asks you one day why you chose him, you better reply honestly :) Reassure him that you love him and only him.

-Shinjiro is observant as hell so he knows immediately if you're hiding something or upset. Like MInato, he'll not ask you at once. Though if this behavior carries on for days, be prepared for Shinjiro's interrogation :) He just wants to help you, so please come to him if you have a problem with anything

-(I just realized I made SEES bois with sad s/o. Please read how Shinjiro comforts you whenever you're sad there. x.)

-I can see him telling you to find another one to love when he dies. Move on, but don't forget about Shinjiro. Continue living even if he's not there, he'll remain in your heart forever.. (Okay.. I teared up in this one ;-;).

-Overall, please be with this boi until the very end..

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[yutahoes]

Otou-Chan

Yuta Nakamoto x Reader (Y/N) Smut

(Chapter Seventeen)

Summary: 𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐡𝐰𝐚 𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐘𝐮𝐭𝐚’𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬.

Warning:  Fluff, Phone Sex, Mutual Masturbation

Word Count: 3k

Masterlist

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ❤️❤️

17. Growing

“Are you sure you can go to work now?” Yuta asked as he stopped in front of the publishing house. It’s been three days since he found (Y/N) in their home and although he didn’t tell her, he already bought their old house. That way, when her dad comes back, he can ask him to go to rehab. The girl nodded while checking her bag. “So this is how it feels like…” She gave him a curious look. Feels like what? “Bringing your daughter to her first day of school.”

(Y/N) had to giggle at that, Yuta is so cute. “Are you going to cry, otou-chan?” She teased but Yuta just chuckled, pinching her cheek. “I’ll call you later.” He raised an eyebrow at her. She would always say that but until now, he doesn’t know her number yet. “I promise, I’ll call.” She said before opening the door of the car. Yuta shook his head laughing to himself as he started the car. Let the waiting game begin.

The two were out for lunch, Jaehyun is abroad and Johnny is not around, leaving (Y/N) alone in the publishing house. She wanted to get lunch with her co-workers but she had to finish the illustration she’s tasked to do. And since she’s bored, she decided to get her phone and click speed dial 2. The phone was ringing as she bit her lip, deciding if this is a good idea or not. “Mosh mosh, Yuta Nakamoto desu.” And she automatically smiled at that. He sounded so hot talking in Japanese.

“Mosh mosh, (Y/N) desu.” She repeated while giggling that made the guy smile.

Yuta cleared his throat, seeing the investors look at him weirdly. He put down his phone for a second, making Doyoung shake his head at him. “Please give me a second. It’s an important call.” Then returned his phone to his ear, turning around from the group of guys. Doyoung just gave the men an apologetic smile then glared at Yuta. “Hey, (Y/N).”

“Are you busy?” she asked, obviously overhearing what he said. “I’ll just call you later.”

“It’s fine. Did you eat lunch?” She said no and he sighed. “I’ll order food for you, what do you want?”

She had to gasp at that. “Jungwoo is already buying me food. Go back to your meeting, Yuta. Call me when you're done.” He asked if he can do that and she just said yes.

“I’ll call you later.” She immediately ended the call that made him sigh then returned to the meeting as if nothing happened. Doyoung sighed at the smiling CEO. He’s really lovesick for his own good.

--

(Y/N) finished her lunch and is doing her work when her phone rang, grinning at the person who said hello on the other line. “Did you have lunch?” Yuta asked and she hummed a yes. “Busy?”

She shook her head although he clearly cannot see her. Jungwoo only smiled while watching her. “Just finalizing some illustrations.” She claimed then put down her drawing pen to focus on him. “Is the meeting done? What happened?”

There was an obvious shift in Yuta’s voice that made her bite her lip. Is that a wrong question? Did something bad happen during the meeting? Is she at fault? “The company has new investors from New Zealand.” He said then sighed. “More paper works, more production to look after.” She giggled at that. At least it’s good news. But this only means that Yuta will get stressed once again.

Three days of spending the night in his place made her aware of the demanding job of the CEO. Sometimes, she can hear him in the middle of the night still talking to some people. He would often stay up late just working on his laptop and even while eating, his eyes were glued on his phone. “I’m staying over at Jungwoo’s place tonight. We have to finish the manhwa for publication on Friday.” She claimed and Yuta hummed in response.

“I’ll be out of the country on Friday.” He shared that surprised her. Suddenly? “I’ll leave the apartment keys to you if you want to stay there on weekend. I’ll be back Monday night.”

She really needed a place to stay. She should stop going to someone’s house just to stay the night. She realized that when Yuta left the apartment keys to her that Friday morning, even asking her if she wanted souvenirs from New Zealand. Honestly, she wanted to come with him but she can’t leave especially now that she had to finish the first chapter of her manhwa set for publishing. 

She stayed at his place that Saturday morning since Lucas is back in Korea and she wanted Jungwoo to spend some quality time with him. The place seemed empty without him. How can he live here alone for years? Does he bring girls over? Or maybe he’s living with her girlfriend. Wait, does Yuta have a girlfriend? Is he married? She shook her head, why would he show interest in her if that’s the case?

She decided to do the laundry first, putting her clothes inside the washer. (Y/N) noticed one of her bra missing. Maybe she left it at Jungwoo’s place but that’s hardly the case. Lucas is sensitive about female’s clothes in their apartment. So where could it be? (Y/N) also put Yuta’s clothes in the washer since the ahjumma who was supposed to clean his house cannot go today. Maybe she can just clean up the house in exchange for staying here.

His clothes smelled like him and she suddenly missed him. Why does he have to be abroad now? And why is she so horny for him? Checking the calendar, it must be her ovulation period. Well, that explains her getting this horny. The vibrator, she thought, Yuta has it. Is it still here?

After cleaning the living room, she took a quick shower and wore his larger white shirt. (Y/N) had to borrow his computer so she went inside his study room and opened his desktop computer, surprised to see pictures of her as his screen wallpaper. Well, if this isn’t Yuta she would be terrified. How did he get these pictures? While she’s staying here? She opened the browser to send Johnny an email but it only restored some tabs. (Y/N) smiled, he was searching topics about flowers used for confession, how to tell a girl you love her, and even things like the traditional way of pursuing someone. Is he that serious?

And since she already has access to his computer, she decided to dig deeper and find out something about the guy. Maybe he can find his kinks by searching his browser history. But it’s clean, even a secret folder isn’t available on his computer. Doesn’t he watch porn? How is he so good in bed? Is he born with it? Or he had other girls to practice with? Well, the way they first met is rather smooth. Maybe he really is a fuckboy. So what’s with all this romance shit?

An engine search of nearby alcoholic rehab centers got her attention. He did say that before, he wanted to put her dad in rehab and have him sober. But how can Yuta, a total stranger, force her dad to do that? And where is he? He never picked up her calls and she didn’t know any friends that he has. He never returned to the house as well. A smile escaped her lips when she found out he searched about how to make bungeoppang. Why is Yuta confusing her?

Her phone rang that surprised her, an international number. Speaking of the devil. “Hi, have you eaten?” Yuta asked and she giggled. Did he call just to ask this? “Are you at work? Busy?”

“I’m at home.” The line got silent for a few seconds before she clarified, “I mean your home.” If possible, she can see how he smiled on the other line. “Sorry, I didn’t ask permission but I used your computer. And your clothes.”

The guy on the other line laughed. “It’s fine.” Then he stopped. “You saw the wallpaper?” She giggled at that, teasing that he’s too obsessed with her. “I had to keep myself sane when you’re not beside me.” (Y/N) wanted to swoon at that. How can he say those words so flawlessly? No doubt, he has some practice. “Wait, hold on…” he started. “You’re wearing my clothes?”

“Well yeah. I had to wash my clothes so I borrowed yours.” She bit her lip. Two can play a game. “Is that a bad thing, daddy?” she asked in a whisper and Yuta cursed. “Will I get punished, otou-chan?”

She could hear something closing on the other line then a click as if he’s locking something. “Fuck baby!” he cursed once again before sighing hard. “It’s still early here and the investors are here. Please don’t do this to me.” (Y/N) had to giggle at that. “Besides I’m not thrilled with the idea of punishing you. I just want to see you in my clothes.”

“Do you want a video?”

Yuta laughed. “Save it for later. I’ll call you when I’m alone in the hotel room.”

(Y/N) smiled. “I’ll be waiting.” He giggled. Yuta had to remind her to get something to eat before dropping the call since he has a meeting to attend to. Now, (Y/N) had to get herself busy while waiting for their sexy night time call.

--

She already sent her work to Johnny, finished cleaning the house, and even finished the work Ten had asked help with. Yet there’s still no phone call from Yuta. Did he forget? Is he too busy? But she can’t stop her horniness now. Why did Ten ask her to edit his illustration? A phone sex one shot where the couple had the best masturbation of their life. And now, it made her excited and wet. 

The vibrator, she thought. She’s sure Yuta hid it somewhere here in his house. Or in his office? How can she let off alone? Maybe she’ll look for amazing porn and just finger herself. Or she could call Yuta? No, he might be really busy. Glancing at his bed, there might be a way she can get off with his help.

She had never done it before. Totally, a first. But she had seen a lot of deal like this in porn and it’s pretty normal. She removed her sweatpants, leaving her in just her underwear and Yuta’s white shirt. She felt dirty just imagining what she would do to an inanimated object and it can’t help that she’s thinking about Yuta’s reaction when he sees his sheet wet. Will he let him see it?

She sat on his pillow, letting her wet core rub against the dark sheets and she moaned at the friction. It was good. Really good. But something is missing. Him.

She wished Yuta is here then maybe she’s not humping his pillow and he’s already giving her the best orgasm like what he always does. Maybe she can ride his cock or even better, he can eat her out. And the thought sent shivers down her spine as her wet core brushed against his pillow.

The imagery of Yuta under her, riding his face rather than his pillow sent (Y/N)’s mind into a frenzy. How would those red lips kiss her pussy lips? How can that warm tongue explore her cavern? She moaned at the thought, holding the headboard using her left hand or she might bump her head from the pleasure. Her right hand pinched her nipples, squeezing her breast imagining Yuta’s hands doing the deed. There’s no doubt, Yuta is the only one who can give her the orgasm she needs.

She was close, too close when her phone rang. Both her hands were occupied and she’s still reaching that much-needed orgasm so she didn’t bother about the call. It stopped for a second then it rang again that made her annoyed. Who would call her? Pissed off, she accepted the call without checking the caller ID. “What took you so long?” She bit her lip at that. Yuta. “Are you busy? Did you eat?”

And that’s the least of her concerns now. She humped the pillow faster, letting her moans escape her mouth to reach Yuta then maybe he could get the idea. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked, obviously pissed off and it just sounded so hot against her ear. The girl dropped her phone in front of her, moaning loudly that if he had neighbors they’ll obviously hear.

She whimpered at the pleasure of her orgasm, rubbing her wetness on his pillow and even leaving a stain. (Y/N) picked up the phone and Yuta was asking for a video call. Really? When she’s just done with her orgasm? She declined the request and put the phone against her ear. “Hello?” she said in a shaky breath.

Yuta clucks his tongue at her. “Good?” He sounded agitated that she didn’t answer back, scared. “Is it another vibrator?” Oh yeah, she thought, Jungwoo’s vibrator. “Are you having fun without me, baby girl?” She gulped at his words. It sounded so hot that she grew wet again. This is bad. “Did you lose your tongue, baby girl?”

He sounded so dominant on the phone that she wanted to see him, maybe he’s in bed stroking his cock with a serious face. Maybe he looks angry and she wanted to see that. She shouldn’t have canceled that video request. “No, otou-chan,” she said softly.

“You were moaning loudly earlier. Why are you so quiet now?” he asked and she bit her lip. Totally hot. Her fingers trailed on her clit and she gave a breathy whimper. “What are you doing now?” But she didn’t answer, biting her lip to prevent moaning. He cursed in Japanese that made her arch her back at how erotic that sounded. “Were you touching yourself, princess?” She answered a muffled yes, turning around that she’s lying stomach flat on his bed as she inserted a finger inside her. “Is it satisfying? Your fingers?”

“No, Yuta,” she answered just as a moan escaped her mouth. Yuta laughed on the other line. “I want you.”

He chuckled once again. “Doesn’t sound like it, princess.” he teased. “Open your video, I want to see you.” A video request can be seen again and she only saw him in a suit, lying in what looks like a bed before looking the other way in embarrassment.

The guy can see her in his shirt, her nipples perked up. He can’t really see what she’s doing but the shaking of her body made him aware that she really is fingering herself. How wild, he thought. Why is she so horny like this? He opened his dress shirt then his pants, touching his cock which started to get hard at the image presented in front of him. “Princess, let me see you. I’ll make you feel good.”

(Y/N) had to fix her phone so that he could see her fully and she moaned when she realized that he was also touching himself. "Yuta…" she said breathlessly. "I want you."

"Oh sweetheart, I wish I'm there right now." He groaned against his phone. "I wanted to do a lot of things to you," Yuta said sensually while touching his body. "I want your pretty lips wrapped around my cock." And he changed the angle of the video to where he was jerking his hard rock arousal. "I want you squirming in orgasm under me. To dick you down real hard that you can only remember my name." She kept on calling for his name as her fingers sent her to the edge of her orgasm. "(Y/N)." He called sensually. "Baby!"

And that does it. She orgasmed on his bed for the second time but this time, she spoiled his sheets. Yuta was chuckling as she was riding out her orgasm, his hand still lazily jerking his cock. "Naughty girl." He teased. "Do you like soiling the sheets?"

"I'm sorry." She said biting her lip. "And it's not only the sheet that I stained." She said guiltily then showed him the pillow with a wet mark. "I'll just wash these tomorrow..."

"Don't." Yuta reacted instantly. "Leave it. I want it on my bed when I return on Monday."

"Pervert."

"Says the girl who was humping my pillow." She rolled her eyes. "You like unanimated objects, is that your kink?" He asked and she gave him a curious expression. "My pillow. That stupid vibrator…"

"Speaking of the vibrator, where is that?"

Yuta chuckled. "First drawer to the left side table." She dropped her phone for a while before checking the place Yuta mentioned, surprised to see the object shattered inside. A gasp escaped her mouth and he laughed once again. "I already told Jungwoo that I will pay for it." He reasoned out and she shook her head, still assessing the object. How did he break this? Is he that mad? "So say goodbye to my pillow for making you cum." Does he have anger issues?

But that is hot, she had to admit. She feels loved; like someone is being really possessive of her. "Can you calm down Yuta?" She sighed. "You should break yourself for always putting me on edge." He giggled at that. "Are you going back on Monday?" He nodded and she pursed her lips. "Can I stay the night on Monday? Lucas is still here in Korea."

Again, a chuckle. "Sure but I won't let you go to work on Tuesday." She raised an eyebrow at him and he just smirked. "Do you think you can walk properly after I'm done with you? I don't think so, princess." She smiled at that. Well, she wanted that.

Yuta promised to message her in the morning and asked her to get some rest already. He smiled when the video call dropped. This girl, really. Why is she shaking him like this? And why isn't it Monday yet?

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ❤️❤️

Chapter 16 / Chapter 18

Happy New Year Everyone! 🎉🎆🎇

[theheartsmistakes]

The Last Night Part XXVIII

*Warning: Mild Adult Content at the end of this chapter.*

Cordelia sat upon the chaise lounge staring wonderingly into the flickering red and orange curls of the fire the maid had just added fresh wood to. Her eyes felt like cotton, no matter how many times she blinked. She could not erase the images of Tatiana Blackthorn’s story in her mind. Images of Belial— of Lucie— doing horrible things to this world under his control.

She thought of her dearest friend and the years of secrets she’d managed to keep well within herself. Secrets Cordelia could only wish Lucie would have felt comfortable enough to share with Cordelia, of all people.

Despite herself, she could not help but wonder whatever she’d done to cause Lucie to feel she could not trust her with such sacred information. Perhaps she could have been of more help.

But then how could she judge her friend for harboring secrets when Cordelia herself had plenty of secrets of her own. Perhaps they could have helped each other.

As her mother was always preaching, it doesn’t do to dwell on the past. The future can be changed.

The old grandfather clock in the study rang eleven times marking the hour. She’d left the drawing-room to allow the Herondale’s their space to discuss the rescue of Lucie; however, no one seemed to have a logical plan without knowing exactly how to access her. James took Matthew and Christopher aside to fill them in on the details of the afternoon.

Not wishing to be in the way or draw attention to herself, Cordelia snuck away into the study and found herself curling up on the sofa for the past hour.

When her legs had grown stiff and the fire had dwindled to a pile of flickered black coal at the bottom, the door to the study creaked open on aged hinges.

The firelight created shadows over James’s face making him look more beautiful than he already was. His eyes had lost the spark they used to hold except when they fell upon Cordelia. Even know as his gaze found her on the lounge, his shoulders dropped away from his ears and a small smile lifted at the corners of his mouth. Her heart sped up just a bit. “There you are,” he said. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Cordelia smiled as much as she could manage and pulled the throw blanket up over her shoulder.

“You slipped away without telling anyone.” He came to stand beside the end of the lounge where Cordelia’s bare feet rested.

“I know, I’m sorry,” she said and filled her lungs. “I wanted your family to have a moment to talk. I did not want to be in the way.”

“Cordelia,” said James and slowly sank onto the edge of the lounge. “You are never in the way. Lucie is as much your family as she is my own.”

“Thank you for saying that,” said Cordelia, “But I cannot help—“ The words trapped in her throat.

James tenderly and without hesitation reach up and brushed a fallen strand of hair away from her face. His finger curled underneath her chin and he lifted her eyes to meet his own.

“I know what troubles you,” he said, his golden eyes flickered across her face. “They are the same troubles as my own. But this is not your fault.”

Cordelia exhaled sharply. “If I just been more available to her.”

“No.” James cupped her face between his hands. “Lucie still would have kept her secrets and Belial would have gone even farther to acquire her, even so far as removing one of us from his way.”

Cordelia nodded and pressed her cheek into his palm. “I just feel so useless. I want to go after her— I want to do something.”

“As do I,” said James. “But after what Tatiana said, Magnus assured us that the best thing we can do is prepare for Belial’s first strike. If he’s already possessed Lucie then we must find a way to separate them. If she’s managed to fight him away, then we’ll be ready to assist her. Whatever the case, we must wait.”

She hated waiting. Never having been very good at it in her short seventeen years.

“She must be so scared,” said Cordelia, imagining her time alone with Belial. It’d been the most terrifying experience of her life second to almost losing James.

James took her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. “If I know anything about my sister, she is not making this time pleasant for Belial. I would almost be more concerned for his sanity rather than her own.”

“Are you trying to make light of this situation?”

James scowled. “On the contrary, I’m being quite serious.” He turned on his hip and stretched his legs out beside Cordelia. The chase lounge was just large enough to hold them both. It still felt odd to be alone with James without a chaperone, as if someone were to walk in on the two of them she’d still find her reputation compromised in some way, but then she remembered that her reputation had been quite compromised in all the ways it counted. For this man, she’d found herself in ruin. For this man, she’d given up the life dreamed and worked for her. And for this man, she’d do it again.

To offer him comfort; to offer him what strength she could give him, she’d do it again.

And tonight it seemed they needed both from each other. James leaned his head back and looked up at the wallpapered ceiling.

“Where has everyone gone off to?” She asked, tucking herself closer to his arm.

“My father and mother have gone to Henry and Charlotte’s to inform the Consul of Belial’s plan,” said James as if recited a list. “Grace and Jesse are with the Silent Brothers. Matthew and Christopher were called to report to Charles about today’s patrol. Nothing interesting to report except for a rouge Deatrix demon that was living in the sewers in Bath and a rogue werewolf with a mighty big temper. Alastair took your mother to a secondary location in case Belial decides to come here first and Thomas went with him, I believe. That’s about everyone. No one could find you to invite you along.”

“Oh James, you shouldn’t have stayed on my account,” said Cordelia. “I would have been perfectly all right.”

“Of that, I have no doubt,” said James. “In truth, I wanted to stay behind. My mother has enough to handle with my father and the consul, whom I’m sure he’ll share some choice words with if they so much as attempt to condemn or criticize my mother for the kidnapping of Lucie. She did not need my company there as well. And I did not go with Matthew and Christopher on patrol as you well know, so I would have had nothing to report.”

“Is that all?”

“And…” James turned to look at Cordelia. “I much prefer your presence over any of theirs.” His eyes drifted down to Cordelia’s mouth and lingered there a moment before he met her gaze again. When he moved closer towards her, the warmth of his breath brushed against her lips, and she did not move. A silent, welcoming answer to his question. His mouth covered hers in a kiss that started soft and tender. She felt his hand slide across her waist to wrap around her back and he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss.

A quickening fluttered in her core as his hand moved over her hip and down her thigh.

She felt as if she could scarcely breathe. She needed, wanted him closer. As if in response to some inner demand, her hands slid from the curve of his jaw, down the plains of his chest where muscles and bones contracted beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. Her fingers found the hem and the soft, warm skin that lie beneath.

James shuddered.

“I’m sorry,” she said breathlessly.

He chuckled against her mouth. “Your fingers are cold.” He held her hand where it was against his abdomen. The lines and peaks of each muscle that could be felt along her fingertips had her breathing erratic again.

“A thought for a thought, Cordelia,” whispered James.

She did want to expose what she was thinking.

She looked up at him. His pupils were dilated making his eyes more black than gold. He watched her for a long moment, his eyes following the flick of her tongue over her bottom lip. “Cordelia. You’ve started calling me Cordelia— not Daisy. Why?”

His hand tightened around her own stopping its trail right above her heart. “When I gave you that nickname, we were but children. Whenever I saw you thereafter, I pictured you amongst those delicate flowers. But we are not children anymore. Ever since that moment I watched dance at the Hell Ruelle, Daisy just didn’t seem appropriate anymore. I look at you now and I can scarcely breathe. I look at you and I think about wanting you so badly that I have trouble concentrating on little else. I think about how I almost lost you and what I would do if I ever did.”

Her heart stumbled a beat. She no longer knew what to do with her arms, her legs, her face. She steeled her spine for what she was about to say, “I’m thinking— I’m thinking how if this is to be our last night alive— the last night we have with one another, then there is no one else in the world that I’d rather be spending it with. I’ve loved you since I was a little girl. And to hear you say such things… God, it feels as if I might burst. And given the current situation, considering our efforts should be focused on Lucie, perhaps that makes me a terrible person or a woman worthy of ruin—“

“It doesn’t,” he said and pressed his forehead against hers. “For tonight, there are no expectations, I just want to hold you. I want you as close as you’ll allow me.”

Cordelia sank closer into him as she drew her hand away out from underneath his shirt. She took his hand that was holding her face and showed him exactly how and where she wanted to be touched. The rough callouses of his fingers grazed the side of her neck, down to her shoulder, and over the full contours of her breasts, that felt too full for her usual corset.

His eyes never left hers as his hand kept moving down her stomach and only paused when he reached her lower abdomen.

“Have you ever—?” She blushed. “With anyone?”

James shook his head. “Though Matthew is quite vocal about his own endeavors, I have not.”

“Not even Grace?”

James shook his head again. “Grace and I barely shared a kiss. What you and Lucie saw that night was nothing more.” His fingers played with the fabric of her gown. “We don’t have to do anything tonight unless you wish to.”

“Do you wish to?”

His nose grazed her jaw and she arched beneath him. “I am yours, Cordelia. In whatever way you will have me, I am yours.”

Something hard pushed against her center. Heat flooded her and the breath was stolen from her lungs.

He let her lead for a time. Her shaking hands unbuttoned his shirt and helped remove it from his shoulders. She discovered every inch of his bare chest, kissing her way up until he couldn’t stand it any longer and he claimed her mouth.

He made quick work of unbuttoning her gown and with inhuman strength, he broke the small clasps of her corset ripping it open where it was secured at her front. When she was free, he took his own time discovering her. An exhilaration and ecstasy she’d never felt came over her with each tender kiss to her exposed flesh. All the while her body begged for more. For him to be closer. For the burning to stop.

When the moment came, it was not as she’d always feared as a young girl. There was a brief moment of discomfort, but she clung closer to James relishing in the way their bodies responded and adapted to one another. Then there was no more pain, only pleasure. At that moment, she understood why this act was so forbidden. Why worried mothers guarded their daughters and men climbed rafters and went to war. Because to be so close to him, to feel his heart beating against her own chest, Cordelia could not remember a time when she’d been happier or felt more loved.

Whatever happened tomorrow, or the days granted after, no longer mattered. For the night, she’d forget about the end of the world. They’d help each other to forget.

____________________________________________________________________

The grandfather clock chimed again this time with four distinct rings. Cordelia stirred besides James, his arms were banded around her, his breathing deep and even. He was already awake and gazing at the ceiling above them. His index finger drew lazy patterns across her bare shoulder.

For a moment, she wondered if it’d all been a dream. But from the slight, delicate tenderness between her legs, she knew it had not.

“Are you all right?” James whispered into her hair.

Carefully, she twisted to face him. His arms tightened around her as if to keep her from disappearing.

“Yes, quite,” she said quietly.

His eyes were solemn as he looked at her.

“What is it?” She asked. A terrible fear came over her that he might be having some regrets. “Did I do—“

“Will you marry me?” The words spilled from him and seemed to bring with a quick release. “For real this time? Would you be—“

Before he could ask again, Cordelia had flattened herself against him, pressing her mouth to his.

“Yes,” she smiled deeply. Without warning, he sat up so that she was straddling his lap. “Yes.”

His broad hands slid around her back as he kissed her. Neither of them thinking of the troubles to come.

(Author’s Notes: I have been so hesitant to post this! I’ve read of it twelve different times and even had my friend read it. You all can blame her for this because she said go for it. It’s not as good as any CC can write, but I thoroughly enjoyed letting James and Cordelia get frisky. Sorry for the wait! I shall see you next Monday 2/1 and we’ll be back to see what Lucie’s up to. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. As always, thank you for reading, liking, and reblogging this story. It seriously means SO much to me.)

[pastel-cryptids]

if you're still doing the kiss prompt ask game,

13. a lingering kiss on the hand

for the Phantom of the Opera pairing of your choice, please and thank you!

AO3 link here!

  It was early in the morning, as the Sun began to rise from its earthly bed, when he woke her.

  His touch was gentle. He barely shook her shoulder, let alone touched it, as he whispered her name delicately into her ear.

   "Christine, Christine, Christine." Oh, she could listen to that single word over and over — and it was her own name!

  She rubbed the heavy sleep from her eyes and stared up at him. Curious how his eyes never seemed to glow like those horrific tales Buquet and the others had told. Her hand cupped his cheek and studied the rough texture of his skin against hers. He nuzzled into her palm and hummed as he rested his hand over hers.

  "Come with me," he whispered.

  "Why?" She wanted to say, but her tongue felt too heavy for her to bother. Christine acquiesced.

  Slowly, she rolled off of the bed, careful not to arouse a still-sleeping Raoul, softly snoring. She kissed his cheek before walking through the marbleized doorframe.

  Erik clutched her hand as if it was his life forced as he walked down the long hallway, barely illuminated by the slowly awakening Sun. It must have been six in the morning, perhaps a little earlier. They had passed through this hallway already (How else would they have entered Raoul's bedchamber?), but despite that, Erik still stared at the hallway with wonder and awe as he walked down it hand in hand with Christine. The feeling was perfectly understandable. No more than a couple of months ago had she wandered down the very same hall for the first time to sleep in the de Chagny guestroom (No more than a couple of months ago had she miserably confessed her aching love to Erik).

  The walls loomed high above them, covered in a plain, cold livid wallpaper — so unlike Raoul's bedroom with its warm yellow wallpaper with swirling white designs, vaguely echoing the beauty of flowers and vines. It seemed that between every few doors, a piece of decoration, often a bust or vase of some sort, would judge them with its haughty, invisible eyes. It truly was all too different from their Raoul.

  Gently, they scurried down the steps. Each step felt uncertain — had her limbs been as tired just a few moments ago? Her legs shook violently as her bare foot pressed against each cool step of wood; it was as if she were stepping upon stilts. Erik was graceful as always, though even she could see the way that perfect countenance began to falter. Rarely would he allow such vulnerability to be revealed — the poor man truly was exhausted.

  Erik began a fire in the drawing-room, allowing the fireplace to drown out the early morning chill. Christine watched as it flickered to life and glowed bright yellow. Her eyes ached, yet the enchanting siren song of the element kept her from daring to blink. The sleep that once threatened to blind her as she walked was long gone.

  The loveseat sunk as Erik sat beside her. Gone was his perfect posture as he leaned forward, his forearms on his thin thighs, and his legs spread out. In the bright, yellow light of the fire, every detail of Erik's face was intensified by the lingering shadows. His jutted cheekbones, his sunken, wrinkled skin — it reminded her of a sculpture or painting… perhaps, something a great Greek or Renaissance artist would create. Such an artistic man had to be born from the Muses, after all.

  "I could not sleep," Erik said calmly.

  She could not find an apt response. Slowly, she nodded her head and moved closer to him. Her head rested on his sharp shoulder. "I'm sorry."

  "I feared — I fear that if I fall asleep for a moment, if I falter, all of this will disappear through my fingers and I will be left alone, back to that night where I expelled you from our home with my awful words."

  Christine chuckled dryly. "I said some rather awful things as well."

  "But I prompted you to do so. To insult you — to genuinely insult you…"

  He looked away, his eyes wide and distant. She quickly cupped his cheek and forced his head to force her gaze once more. "Hey, you're wandering back to the past again."

  He closed his eyes and sighed. "Apologies."

  "None needed." She cupped his other cheek and delicately kissed the little bridge of his nose that he had. His breath shuddered beneath her. "But I want you to know that I'm here. I will always be in the present. You needn't look for me in a time long gone."

  His smile was weak. "I know, my dear, I know."

  "But to go off of what you originally said, I understand. I — I know that I was asleep beforehand, but it certainly wasn't restful. I doubt Raoul's was either. I think we're all a little shaken after…" She gulped. Her chemise and drawers were still slightly wet. The cold fabric clung to her skin and was only weighed down even more by her still-soaked coils of hair.

  "Oh, I could not bring any more suffering to Raoul —"

  Her eyes widened as her brows furrowed. "You aren't — You haven't."

  He snorted. "I think berating a man, accusing him of being a traitor, and threatening him with a garrote could count as suffering on Raoul's end."

  "Raoul wasn't —" Christine clamped her mouth shut and looked away. She clenched the fabric of her drawers beneath her fingers. "I suppose he was suffering, but he knew you truly didn't mean anything… Malignant."

   "I would have if he truly did ally with those pompous 'managers' and allowed you to get injured by one of those damned gendarmes," he deadpanned.

  The deep cut left by the grazing bullet tingled as if responding to Erik's mentioning of it. Christine gently touched her bandage. "I suppose I wouldn't have been too kind either."

  "But the problem is that he was not a traitor or a liar," Erik sighed, rubbing his temple, "he never conspired with the managers to send the gendarmerie, he had not a clue such a thing was going on behind his back. He was an innocent man who truly… Cared for me, and I simply spat at him like trash."

  "Your reaction wasn't appropriate, but Erik, you weren't mentally —"

  "And God, poor Nadir. I accused the man who was the closest to a father I had ever had of the same crime and forced him into a cage!" Erik heaved and ran a hand through his sparse hair. "And you! I forced you to — to wear that foolish gown and marry me! And for what? Protection? I was — I was just as awful as goddamn Buquet said I was! The fool was right all along!"

  "Erik —"

  "And that is terrifying," he heaved, "because it will not be because of some sort of foolish magic that you, Raoul, and everyone else I have ever known will disappear ��� it will be because of me.

  "Why would you want to stay with me after this? Why would Raoul want to stay with me? I have certainly proved myself wicked, beyond reprehensible. Who is to say what would happen if I lost control of my anger once more? What if I hurt you all again? There is no guarantee that this will never happen again."

  "You're right," she replied firmly. She rested a hand on his thigh. "We can never know if an outburst of this sort could happen again… Nor do we know if an outburst like mine all of those months ago will happen again… Nor do we know if an outburst like Raoul's over a year ago will happen again. Human emotions are flimsy things, after all."

  "But —"

  She held up a finger. "But that doesn't mean we can't try to prevent it or learn to control ourselves. It is simply a hurdle we'll have to go through as we continue our relationship. We've done it before. We can do it again."

  Erik was silent. Tears had slowly overfilled his eyes and were now trickling down his wrinkled cheeks with a coruscating glow. She took his hands and held them tightly. Touch was a potent sense, as well as the most expressive. He gulped and studied her delicate knuckles. "What if I do something beyond the realm of forgiveness? What if I do something inexcusable?"

  "I don't think you will," she murmured, "I don't think you would allow yourself to, even in a state of fury."

  "You do not know that."

  She cocked her head. "For sure? No, I do not. But do I believe it? Most certainly."

  He heaved once more and rested his forehead onto her hands. It mirrored the image of a holy fool before their great god, bowing desperately, pressing themselves as close to the ground as physically possible — all to prove their ardent devotion.

  "I am so afraid," he whispered, "it is tearing me apart." She opened her mouth to speak, but the quick rise of Erik's head to meet her gaze interrupted any possible answer she would have given. "Never leave me alone again," he begged.

  "Oh —" Her voice broke. His eyes pleaded, they wailed. How could she possibly respond to such a request without weeping for the sweet man it came from?

  "Never, ever," he repeated. He raised her hand and kissed her palm — it was as if a star had been born within her ribcage. Such a blessed, beautiful feeling — to be kissed by him. Her lips parted. Such a feeling could not even muster a grin. "Please, please, please." He repeatedly kissed her palm and traveled down to her wrist. The sensation tickled like a spider crawling across her flesh.

  Christine rested her hand under his chin and lifted him to meet her gaze. She kissed the corner of her mouth, fearing that another kiss on the lips would overwhelm him as much as it had the first time. "I won't," she promised, "never in my lifetime."

  As the Sun fully revealed itself in the sky, Erik silenced the fire and guided Christine back upstairs. Despite her joy, her eyelids grew heavy once more. Raoul's bed was no different from a warm embrace as she reentered it; Erik's warmth beside her certainly helped as well. They shared no words as they stared at each other. Christine merely wanted to see the man she loved.

  As her eyes began to flutter and her consciousness flickered, Erik lifted her hand once more and kissed it. Rather than quickly tearing his lips away like skin against a scalding iron, he let them remain, only leaving the face of her hand after a few seconds. Christine smiled as her eyes forced themselves shut and her dreams filled with a neverending warmth.

[loudsuitlover]

Doctor Harry XXX. T la sudo

A/N: Everything will come for those patient enough to wait. (My abuela’s words, not mine.)

BLUE’S POV

Unbelievable. He’s still asleep. Is it possible that this is his longest night of sleep? Would he remember what he said last night? Was he hallucinating? He fell asleep right after. I remember when he told me I had recited Roy McBride’s lines on my sleep and I didn’t remember any of it the morning after. Will it be the same for him?

I have barely slept and as much as he has had trouble sleeping any other night, last night he peacefully slept through the entire night. Every time I’d wake up and look at him, there he was, peaceful, calm and vulnerable and in contrast I was tachycardic.

Harry’s phone screen illuminates with Hampstead name. I sigh. I’m about to pick up and tell them to fuck off and learn to solve their problems by themselves but I know that would be too much. But, come on, Hampstead, it’s Saturday morning and he’s asleep. Thank God it’s on silent mode.

He put it on silent mode! So if someone had called with an “emergency” last night, he wouldn’t have picked up because he was with me. Aw, I’m so proud of him! I want to kiss him until he wakes up and the suck him off to begin his day.

When the call ends, the missed call text pops up on his screen and only then I see the photo he’s got as his wallpaper. That’s me. My pulse accelerates. I don’t want to take his phone but that’s me. It’s a photo from his sister’s wedding and it’s taken from behind me when we were standing under the flower arch greeting the guests. He couldn’t have possibly taken it for he was right next to me but maybe the photographer did and he liked it. Hampstead texts him and the messages pop up on the screen.

Hampstead: Hey, I was just calling to remind you I still have the tickets for Kings of Leon tonight if you want to come!

I don’t want to read his messages. I know that’s terrible. But they’re right there… And they keep popping. I didn’t know Hampstead and him were friends. He’s never mentioned them.

Hampstead: Last week was fun!

Last week was fun? I hope he’s talking about the congress. But a congress, fun? I mean it can be interesting, it can even be thrilling… But fun?

Wait, what is going on with me? I’m not like this. What do I care what Harry talks about with his friends? Even though he’s never mentioned them… But what do I care he’s never mentioned them? Maybe they’re not that close and that’s why he has never said anything. But then, why would they invite him to a concert?

Before I know what I’m doing, I’m looking for Hampstead on Facebook. The only Hampstead I have friends in common with- those being Mario Matteoti and Harry Styles- is a girl, is a very beautiful girl. Sarah Hampstead. She’s blond and her hair is long like mine but straight. She wears it in a braid in most of the pictures and looks like Rapunzel. She’s a first year residence in Anaesthesiology at Grad hospital. The last picture she posted is a selfie with Harry. They’re smiling at the camera having a drink at some restaurant or hotel and she’s wearing her hair on a braid over her shoulder. It’s from last Tuesday when Harry was supposed to be at the congress.

My heart stops. I hate this. I hate that I’m doing this in the first place and I also hate that I’m feeling so threatened but I remember the fights I’ve had with Harry over her calls and how he walked away from me to take her call when we were at Marie’s house.

I don’t want to think this of him but… Why did he never tell me about her? And why does she think it’s okay to call him at those ungodly hours? And why does he always pick up? And why the fuck is she inviting him to a concert?

Last week was fun. Yeah, that drink they had looked like fun and they looked like they were having a good time on that stupid selfie. The congress. It’s impossible, I know it is, but what if the congress wasn’t a congress at all? I need to stop.

I get up from the bed and don’t know what to do. Do I shower without telling Harry? I mean I know he told me not to ask him if I could shower again… But it’s still his house. Well, fuck it, I need to get rid of the dirty feeling of having spied on him and then doubt him. But what if it’s true? Ugh, stop!

I can’t get their stupid selfie out of my head while I shower. Why the fuck did he never tell me about her if they’re colleagues? There’s a voice inside me that tells me he might have done it precisely to avoid this irrational reaction but fuck it. That’s not an excuse. I’m only reacting this way because he hid this from me. Why would he not tell me?

I guess I’ve acted jealous before, with Camille and that dinner of theirs… But I think when he explained it to me I took it nicely and I showed him I could be rational… Plus, does that give him the excuse to just hide things from me?

Last night he told me he loved me. I gotta focus on that. This Sarah Hampstead can text him all she wants, he loves me. He said it last night.

I forgot my clothes on my overnight bag so I make my way outside the bathroom wrapped in a towel and try not to make much noise but the moment I open the door I realize Harry’s not on the bed. I put on clean underwear and my clothes for the day and find him in the kitchen.

He’s wearing thick grey sweatpants and a white cotton long sleeve shirt and looks so cosy my frustration leaves my body through my pores. He grins when he tilts his neck and looks at me.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

He keeps making breakfast. What is he doing? Is there no good morning kiss?

“I’m feeling like fruit and yoghurt. What do you want?”

“Fruit and yoghurt sounds good.”

“Guay.” He smiles.

Alright, so this is what we’re doing. Then I’m starting the conversation.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Very much so.” He smiles but his green eyes signal for me to have a seat. “And you?”

I nod.

“Take a seat, love.” He chuckles.

I walk towards my usual stool on his breakfast bar and sit down in front of him. I add some sugar to the coffee he gently prepared for me but my eyes don’t leave him. He frowns as he munches on his apple.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Okay, he doesn’t remember what he said last night. That or he’s messing with me. Or worse, he regrets it.

“Do you remember how you fell asleep?”

“With my eyes closed.”

“So you don’t.”

“You also asked me to help you put the cover over us” he says “and I did.”

“Right.”

I took a spoonful of yoghurt with pieces of kiwi and apple and fill my mouth. Either he doesn’t remember or he regrets saying it and now it’s playing dumb. Maybe the sex was so good he got confused or maybe I dreamt it. I guess it’s okay if I fell first… Even though maybe he doesn’t fall at all.

“What do you wanna do today?” He asks.

I look up at him and search for the lie on his green eyes. Did he not check his phone or does he not want to go to the Kings of Leon concert?

“What’s going on with you today? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I might have plans.”

“What do you mean you might? Do you or do you not?”

“I mean I might spend the day with my mum.”

“Oh, okay.”

We eat in silence. I might spend the day with my mum for real. I’m planning on going to my dad’s next week during the uni break to study for the finals so it’d be good to spend some quality time with my mum before I leave.

“I’m sure you can find something to do.”

He looks into my eyes.

“Alright, what is it?”

“What’s what?”

“Why are you mad?”

“I’m not mad.”

He sighs but his eyes don’t leave me.

“I just mean that you can… Go out with some friends or friend, if you want, and that’s fine.”

“I know it’s fine. Are you worried that I’m going to stay here crying if you leave or what? I can call Adam if that’d make you happy.”

“He’s got plans with Marie.”

“Right.” He has a sip of his coffee. “Well, it’s a good thing I don’t need a babysitter.”

“You could do something with another friend.”

“Yes, I could.”

“Guay.” I shrug.

He narrows his eyes at me.

“All I meant is I understand that people want you around, that they appreciate your presence, you know? It’s nice.”

“Why?”

I look up into his eyes again. His hands are intertwined before him as if he was waiting for my answer.

“Because you’re fun and a good person and a good friend. I think it makes sense that people from your environment want you around.”

“Is that what you think?”

I nod.

“Why?”

“I’ve told you. To me, being with you is… easy and nice.”

“Why?”

Again? He sounds like a three-years-old. I don’t know what he wants me to tell him.

“I guess because of the way you treat me. You’re gentle and caring and kind…”

He lets go of his own hands and covers his mouth with one of them but his eyes give him away. He’s trying to hide a smile. I don’t think I’m saying anything funny. He shuts his eyes and when he opens them, he takes his hand off his face and looks at me with affection and amusement.

“Am I your second boyfriend?” He asks.

My blood freezes on my veins. Please, God, don’t let him ask me about Dylan.

“No.”

He raises his eyebrows questioningly.

“What does it matter?”

“I’m just trying to understand something.”

“Third.”

He nods.

“What happened with the second?”

Thank, God. At least he knows Dylan is not a light conversation. I look down. I have never really told him about Javier and I don’t think I want to.

“He wasn’t a good guy.”

I see concern flashing on his eyes.

“What does that mean?”

What a silly guy.

“Did he hurt you?”

I look away from him and his hand rests over mine. He understood I don’t want to talk about him.

“I’m sorry, Blue. How old were you?”

“20.”

He nods.

“What about sex?”

“What about it?”

He rolls his eyes but smiles.

“Have you slept with many people before me?”

“Less than you, that’s for sure.”

His jaw clenches slightly but he doesn’t take his hand away from mine. Come on, Blue, remember you did not want to be harsh to him.

“Three.”

Harry’s eyebrows raise and his neck moves forward. He’s so silly, he’s making me embarrassed.

“Just us three?”

“Yes, is there a problem?”

“No, baby, three is fine.” His thumb caresses the back of my hand. “So I was the first guy you had casual sex with?”

“Yes.”

He hums.

“Are you done with your interrogation?”

“Yes.” He nods. “And, baby, whatever the second guy did to you, he’s crazy because you have to be insane to let you go.”

“It’s not easy to be with me.”

“Oh, I know.”

“No, you don’t know.”

“What do you mean?”

I stop myself from shivering. Can I tell him? Can I fully ruin the morning by telling him I was in love when Dylan died and that’s not going to change? Because then he will feel like I’m only with him because Dylan is not here and that’s mostly true and then he’d leave me because he must know he deserves better.

“I…. I….” I love you, but Dylan will always have a place in my heart. “I can be very harsh.”

He smirks but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I know that.” He tilts his neck. “But when you’re not, you’re funny and smart and unique. You’re lovely here” he taps my forehead with his index finger “here” he taps my heart “and your whole body is fucking lovely too, baby. Just own it.”

“Do you really think that?”

“I don’t think that, I know so and it’s a little sad that it takes a random guy like me to tell you for you to see that.”

“You’re not a random guy.”

He smiles.

“Well, have fun with your mum today then. Next week-” He starts but I cut him short.

“I’m going to my dad’s next week.”

His expression changes and he uses the napkin to clean his mouth but he did it mindlessly for his mouth was already cleaned. That has me thinking.

“But what happens next week?”

“No, nothing.” He smirks.

I give him a look letting him know I am not buying it and he clears his throat.

“It’s just… I knew you were on holidays and I had some days off that I haven’t taken because of my addiction to work” he jokes “so I thought in order to show you that we are making progress and also to spend some time together, I could take some days off next week and… We could do something. But it’s okay, you’re going to visit your dad and I should have probably told you sooner.”

My heart swoons. He used his days off for me. He might not remember what he said last night or he might even want to take it back but this is what someone who really does love spending time with me would do. The next thing I say, I say it in a frenzy, in a love rage, even before I can process it.

“Come with me.”

His green eyes set on me as he considers my invitation. I feel embarrassment flooding my cheeks and my neck.

“To Capitol?”

“Yes, have you ever been?”

“I have not.”

I could have guess it.

“So you’ve travelled all around and you’ve never been to one of the most beautiful cities in the country?”

He smirks.

“Well, I should decide whether that’s true, don’t you think?”

“So you’re coming?”

He weights his options looking at me but suddenly his expression falls into one of disbelief.

“Don’t invite me out of pity, Blue.”

I frown and my eyes narrow. Is that really what he thinks of me?

“I didn’t invite you out of pity. I invited you because I want to spend those days with you. I’m so happy you finally decided to get holidays like the rest of people and the fact that you wanna spend them with me only makes my heart flutter so are you coming?”

My confession makes him smile again and I smile foolishly back at him. The way his dimple forms on his left cheek even before his teeth are shown sweetens my mood and my blood.

“Are you sure?”

I nod.

“What are you gonna tell your dad?”

“The truth. I don’t lie.”

He hums as he tilts his neck and raises an eyebrow, calling my statement into question and I shake my head weirdly amused.

“I got a train ticket for Wednesday morning, do I get another one? Or do I cancel mine and you drive us? It’s a little less than 4 hours away.”

He’s going to say yes, I can tell, I can see it on his face; how is eyes have a sparkle about them and his smile reaches them. He’s loving this. His expressions always give him away. He’s an opened book.

“I don’t mind. We can drive.”

We both grin.

We decide to spend the morning together before I go have lunch with my mum. I might invite him to that as well. Mum might get jealous if she knows Harry’s gonna be spending a few days at dad’s and she only got a dinner. Harry’s on his closest, picking his clothes for the day I guess when I call my dad.

“Hey, dad.”

“Hey, Berry. What’s up?”

“Hi, I was just calling to ask you… Would you mind if I bring someone along on Wednesday?”

“Not at all, honey. Is Jason coming back?”

“No, it’s not Jason.”

“Ollie then? Marie?”

“No, it’s a… It’s a guy.”

“Oh!” I shake my head at how thrilled my dad sounds and the way Harry looks at my with a side smirk. “A guy! That’s great, Berry. Is he a special guy?”

“Yes, dad, he is. He’s my boyfriend.”

“Your boyfriend.” He repeats.

“Yeah, okay, so you’re gonna pretend you didn’t figure that out after the wedding photos I sent you. You don’t go to a wedding with just anyone, dad.”

As Harry makes his way to the bathroom, he walks past me and slaps my ass cheek loud enough so that my dad can hear it and I jump.

“What was that, honey?”

“Uh… It was just… Uh… My notes. That fell. On the floor. Because I’m tidying up.”

Harry looks at me and silently chuckles and I shake my head and swat his arm playfully whilst he walks to the bathroom.

“Oh, okay, darling. Well, thanks for calling and don’t worry about anything, I’ll make sure everything’s ready. Why don’t you text me what food he likes so I keep that in mind when doing the groceries?”

“Well, he’s not picky, dad. I think he’d eat anything.”

“Good then I’ll cook my special rice. I can’t wait to see you!”

“Me neither.” I chuckle. “Bye, dad, love you.”

“Bye, Berry, love you too.”

While Harry’s in the shower, I pick up my clothes from last night and kept them on my overnight bag and make his bed. I try not to think about how crazy we both are. Last night he told me he loved me and this morning I found out that Hampstead is a girl and he acted like he didn’t say anything last night and interrogated me and then I invited him along to my dad’s. In Capitol. Where I met Dylan.

I think I’m going to faint.

I go on The Golden Girls group chat searching for counselling.

Indie: Are you guys awake????

Jason: Yes, everything okay?

Ollie: Awake and ready to listen.

I guess Marie’s busy. Well, these two would do.

Indie: Hampstead is a girl.

Jason: Who the fuck is Hampstead?

Ollie: She’s an anaesthesiologist who works with Mario and Harry.

Indie: Has Mario ever mentioned her to you?

Ollie: I don’t know. I guess he might have.

Jason: What happened with her???

Indie: I know this is bad guys

Indie: But this morning when I woke up she had texted Harry

Indie: And I didn’t purposefully read his texts but they just pop on his lock screen and I couldn’t help it

Indie: I mean I read them unintentionally

Jason: Just stop excusing yourself and tell us what happened

Indie: She invited him to a concert tonight

Indie: And she said “last week was fun!”

Ollie: Wasn’t Harry on that congress thing?

Jason: Shit

Ollie: Stop it. Don’t listen to JJ, he’s a jealous freak.

Ollie’s typing… And I try not to freak out at Jason’s assumption. She is right. Jason is the jealous type. That’s why I need Ollie’s point of view.

Ollie: I mean they work together. Probably they just went to the congress together too. It’s normal.

Jason: Yeah but why the fuck would she text him that it was fun on a Saturday morning? Like days after? She clearly was trying to initiate a conversation.

Ollie: Who cares about her intentions?

Indie: The thing is Harry’s never mentioned her to me

Indie: And he always picks up her calls even when she calls at like 11 pm on a Friday or worse like on AM on Saturday morning like what the fuck?

Indie: And we have even fought over her calls and he’s picked up.

Ollie’s typing… Jason’s typing…

Jason: I just searched her on Facebook. You’re prettier.

I smile at his attempt.

Ollie: Talk to him.

It’s Ollie’s words that have me thinking. Talk to him. So she thinks there’s something to talk about. And Ollie’s laidback and she is not one bit jealous but she also found it weird. Shit.

Harry’s phone rings and my eyes inevitably search the screen. It’s from the hospital.

“Baby!” Harry yells from the bathroom. “Can you see who’s calling?”

“It’s from the hospital.” I let him know.

“Fuck” the shower stops “can you pick up and tell them to hold on a sec?”

“Sure.”

I pick up the call and bring his phone to my ear.

“Hi, Harry will be with you in a second. He asked me to tell you to please hold on.”

“Uh…” A female voice answers. “Excuse me, who are you?”

“I’m…” I cover the microphone with my hand and talk to Harry “she asked me who I am.”

“Well, tell her.” He laughs. “Who is she?”

“I’m his girlfriend. He asks who are you?”

“His girlfriend?” She sounds surprised. “Oh, I… I didn’t know he…”

“He’s here.” I cut her short.

Harry is smiling when he brings the phone to his ear.

“Hi, sorry, I was in the shower.” He listens. “Oh, hi, Hampstead. What’s up?” He listens.

So Hampstead. What a surprise! And she didn’t know he had a girlfriend, of course.

“Uh… I think that was Danny. I didn’t work yesterday so I am not sure. You should probably ask him. I think he’s on call so send a message to his pager.” He nods as if Hampstead could see him. “Yeah, no problem. Bye, Hampstead. Have a nice day.”

I scroll senseless shit on Twitter so I don’t snap at him. I need to calm down. I need to control this fucking oppressive feeling on my chest but my mind is racing.

Why did he not tell me about her? I think they must be friends or at least friendly if she thinks it’s okay to call him when he’s off duty, especially when freaking professor Gibbins is on call and is the one signing that patients’ paperwork. And he even gives explanations on why he doesn’t pick up on the first tone when he’s off duty. I was in the shower… What do you care?

And why did he not tell her about me? I mean, even Jason could tell her intentions with a single text. I’m guessing it’s a lot more obvious on a day to day basis… And Harry didn’t catch up with that? Why did he never just casually mention he had a girlfriend? He doesn’t even have to tell her about me, just about the roll. Just to have her know that there’s someone sleeping in his bed already.

We haven’t talked much on our stroll along the park behind his apartment. It’s a nice park, with lots of green and trees and wide white stones path for people to stroll like us, or go for a run or walk the dogs. We’ve past some families too. Dads and Mums playing with their children on the grass and I’ve seen Harry staring at them with a hard expression.

I don’t know what’s going on through his mind but he seems to be as pensive as I am. Maybe he’s thinking about Hampstead too.

“Uh, I did tell doctor Hampstead I’m your girlfriend” I say out of the blue “just so you know.”

He tilts his neck to look at me with a confused expression.

“You did?”

“Yeah.” I frown too. “I mean I did tell you she asked me who I was and you said to tell her.”

“Yeah, no, I know what I said.”

I hum and look away.

“Wait, is that what you’ve been thinking about?”

I look at him.

“Is it not what you’ve been thinking about?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Hampstead called in the morning, she had a doubt about a patient I couldn’t answer and then I hang up. That’s all the thought I’ve given it.” He chuckles.

“She could have called Professor Gibbins… Specially if he was on call… And still she called you.”

Harry frowns as if he wasn’t following me. I sigh.

“She sounded surprised when I let her know I was your girlfriend.”

“Are you serious?” His tone sounds surprised at the realization.

Calm down, Indie. Don’t talk to him in a way you’ll regret, don’t talk in a way you’ll regret. I count to tent in my head. 1, 2, 3, 4…

“Are you jealous?”

I take a deep breath. 1, 2, 3, 4…

“Blue, talk to me.”

“I’m counting to ten.”

“Are you really that mad?”

“I’m not mad.” I stop him right there. “I just feel stupid.”

“Why?”

“Because”

I’m about to tell him last night he said he loved me and… For a second I thought it was true because I love him too but then… This fucking whole Hampstead thing, I just… I am embarrassed that I am more invested in this than he is and I don’t want him to know that.

“Listen, you just never mentioned her despite all the times you’ve talked to me about work and she calls you at very weird times to be work related and… I mean she’s… Pretty.”

“How do you know that?”

He’s not denying it. Sometimes his sincerity is too much. I guess it would have raged me if he had denied it but knowing he thinks she’s pretty doesn’t help my jealous fit.

“That’s what matters? Of everything I said.”

“It kind of does.” He tilts his neck.

“I saw her.” I lie. “On Facebook.” I decide not to.

“When?”

“This morning.” Later on, I will analyse this and realize I’m getting defensive but for now all I feel is my shoulders tensing up and my honour being harmed. “And I saw a picture of you two together having a drink on Tuesday night when you were supposed to be on that congress.”

“Supposed to be?” His eyebrows raised on his forehead. “Excuse me but can I not have a drink with whoever the fuck I want?”

“Yes, of course, that’s not what I’m saying!”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying you’ve kept this from me for no reason. I mean why didn’t you tell me?”

“So you think just because I didn’t tell you that means I- what? Cheated on you?”

I don’t answer him and his lips part.

“I can’t believe you.” He sighs. “The only reason I didn’t tell her about you is the same reason why I don’t tell anyone at work about you and it’s because you don’t want me to.”

My mouth shuts and my lips purse on a thin line.

“She’s a colleague, just like any other person working with me and I haven’t told you about her because well, there’s not much to tell. She’s just a first year Anaesthesia resident and she’s a bit lost likewise I was when I was a first-year resident and likewise you will be when you are on your first year of residency. So I remember what it was like to be scared, not to know what to do and… She reminded me of you and…  That’s why I help her.”  

My brain is working a mile per hour and it’s hard for me to catch any thought with how fast they just pass and go.

“So what you’re saying is I have no reason to be jealous.”

“Of course, you don’t.”

“Okay, then why didn’t you tell me that she invited you to a Kings of Leon’s concert tonight?”

Every sign of frustration is removed from his expression and instead he looks at me stern but expressionless or at least I don’t know how to read this.

“You read my texts?”

I shut my eyes.

“I didn’t purposefully read them, they just pop in your screen and don’t give me that because we both know you’ve stuck your nose on my texts before.”

“I have never gone through your phone.”

“Oh, no, I know, I wouldn’t be here if you had.”

“But you get to do it?”

“I didn’t! I didn’t even pick it up! It was just there! And it popped, I couldn’t.. I mean I had just woken up, I truly read them without thinking, I would never purposefully go through your phone.”

“Okay, okay” His hands move in the air to stop my rambling. I think he believes me. “And the fact that I don’t even have my messages hidden, doesn’t make you think that I have nothing to hide? I mean I could have them and, by the way, that would be perfectly legit and wouldn’t even mean anything but you’re saying it- they were right there. It’s not a secret.”

“Then why are you not going?” I challenge him. “Kings of Leon are awesome.”

“Would you like it if I went?” He challenges me back.

“This is not about what I want, what I want doesn’t matter here. This is about you. If she’s just a friend and I have no reason to be jealous, then why won’t you go?”

He takes a deep breath and rest his hand on his hip. Now it’s him who’s counting to ten.

“She is just someone I work with to me but-” He raises his eyebrows before he unlashes the beast “I am not an idiot and… I don’t want to give her the wrong impression.”

“Was it that hard to acknowledge that?” I ask him.

“Was it that hard for you not to assume the worst of me without even talking to me? You always do this, Blue. I mean I already knew you thought I was a junkie but now also a cheater?”

Wow, that was low. So he’s going to through that at my face. I already apologized and he knows how terrible I feel about that and now he’s using that against me? I feel a lump on my throat and try to swallow it so I can speak.

“I… You know how much I regret that.”

“Yeah, well, maybe other than regretting it you should stop doing it. Why can’t you just trust me?”

I frown and look down at his feet.

“Last night” I start “you… and I…”

“I knew you would do this.” He cuts me halfway. “I knew that you were going to pick a fight because you got scared last night but… I’m tired of you using me as your punching-ball, Blue. You unleash all your frustrations on me and I thought I could take it, you know, but… I don’t want to… I’m tired of waiting for you.”

“Waiting for what?”

His words hurt me. Deeply. But I try my best to hold my tears at bay. I don’t want him to see me crying, especially because I don’t want him to stay if he doesn’t want to but he just confirmed every fear I’ve had lately. I am toxic. I am bad for him. I am hurting him and he doesn’t want me.

“For you to open up and let me in and trust me but you don’t and… It hurts, Blue… Uh… I think it’s best if we take a little break…”

“No, Harry! I- I’m sorry.”

I wipe my tears as I keep trying not to cry but this is happening. He’s finally doing what he has to do and yet I don’t want him to. I knew this would happen but I thought… I was trying very hard to let him in.

“Please, don’t cry.” He sighs. “This is how you fix everything. You hurt me and then you cry and I forgive you and when I scare you, you do it again but I… Maybe I’m asking too much of you, I’m not saying this is all your fault. I just thought I didn’t need you to feel the same way I did, I thought I could just… Maybe you’re not ready and… I think you have to work on some things before you are.”

“Harry, please… I… I…” My eyes search his and I can tell then that he is indeed waiting, like he said he was and it’s out of respect that I don’t say it.

“What? You what?”

I know what he wants to hear. He’s been wanting to hear it since this morning. He remembers what he said last night, he was just looking for my reciprocation, but I won’t do this to him. I won’t tell him I love him because I’m afraid of losing him.

“I think you’re right.”

I see the air leaving his chest and I feel a punch on my throat when I see the pain in his eyes. If this is what he wants, then why does he not look happy? Oh, right, it’s because I am that toxic to him. I am no good for him but he doesn’t want to let me go because I have become that toxic person that gives him just enough for him to stick around but not what he deserves.

He wants all from me. He told me last night, but I can’t give it to him. I just can’t. Jason’s words swirl around inside my mind and laugh at me. D’you think any other person would have stick around long enough…? He doesn’t deserve this and I love him, I do. But that’s why I’m letting him go.

I don’t even remember how the goodbye was or when he left or if I was the one who did but after crying my eyes out like a dramatic widow sitting on one of the benches of the park, I manage to get my phone out to ask for the girls.

Coco: Dad told me Harry is going with you to Capitol this week so I’m going too :)

How can something happen so suddenly? He was happy to be going to my dad’s this morning and two hours later he just breaks up with me?

The Golden Girls group chat has also been active.

Marie: Let us know when you talk to him!

Ollie: How did it go?

Jason: Bet they’re fucking.

Marie: Jason!

Indie: Can we meet?

Jason’s calling me.

“Fuck, Indie, where are you? I’ll pick you up.”

“We broke up.” I cry.

“Fuck. Send me your location.”

I do and I wait. This reminds me of that time I picked him up in the middle of nowhere after David Dick abandoned him like a dog. Only this time, I’m the bad guy.

I am terrible person and I don’t know what else to do. Maybe I am destined to be alone and maybe that’s not a bad thing. After all, the whole problem was falling in love because then I will be leaving Dylan behind and I know people don’t understand but people haven’t lost the love of their lives. It’s not a fucking easy thing.

But still, Harry doesn’t deserve that I unleash all my frustrations on him like he said I do because he’s right, I do that. I do that all the time and I treat him like shit because I don’t want him to treat me as someone I’m not. I don’t want him to think I’m this lovely person who deserves to be loved because I’m not. I’m the girl who let her boyfriend died.

That’s yet another thing people don’t understand. But Dylan was begging for help. That’s why he kept smoking and that’s why he had thrown his entire life away. It was his way of letting us know he wasn’t okay and instead of supporting him or loving him I just… I kept fighting him and telling him he needed to stop and… I wasn’t what he needed me to be. I failed him. And then he died. And I will never live past that.

The emergency lights of Jason’s car attract my attention and I get on the car and rest my head on the back of the passenger seat. He drives to the girls’ apartment and we make our way inside in silence.

The girls are sitting on the couch with a worried expression on their faces.

“It’s not what you think.” I start. “It had nothing to do with her.”

“Then what the fuck happened?” Ollie frowns.

So I tell them. I tell them about my confrontation and I tell them what he said and I tell them I agree and Jason says then you didn’t break up and I just look into his eyes because we both know that’s not true.

“But what did you tell him?” Marie asks. “I mean when he said all those things about you not being ready and all that? What did you say?”

I shake my head.

“Nothing.”

“Why?”

“Because I think he’s right.”

“He’s not.” Olivia frowns.

I can tell she is angry. No, she’s furious. I’m not used to this reaction from her. Usually, she’s the one who keeps calm and manages to calm us down. Marie is the one who gets mad, she’s the protective one. So to see Ollie like this is new to me.

“He’s fucking not.” She almost yells. “I mean are you kidding me? He knows what happened to you! He knows and he still didn’t tell you he had had an accident himself! And he chose not to tell you that sometimes he smokes weed when he knew that’s why Dylan died.”

Jason’s mouth opens but he doesn’t have time to say anything for Olivia’s palm rests in the air before him as a sign of stop.

“I don’t think it takes a detective to imagine that Indie might have some issues with weed.” She says through clenched teeth. “And you still listened to him and you forgave him and he fucking decided to still break up with you and now you get jealous, once, and he throws all that at you? I seriously can’t believe him! He’s turning you into this monster and you’re believing it and you’re not!”

I frown concern and surprised when she starts crying. Marie’s hand rests on her shoulder as we all remain silent and she just wipes her tears away.

“No, this is not about me.” She sniffs. “It’s just… I’m tired of seeing you like this, Indie. I’m tired of having you thinking everything is your responsibility and I think you’ve had enough! Fuck! And I’m mad because… You… You lost your fucking boyfriend and you would think he would understand some shit is fucking hard for you and instead here I have my friend crying in my house because this fucking selfish idiot made her feel as if she was some cruel person… You’re not.”

Olivia rests her back against the cushions of the couch and takes a deep breath. She sobs a little more and I find myself pouting as I stare at her.

“When Jack left me for Dulce, you were there for me. When my parents got a divorce, you were there for me. When my brother had the accident, you were there for me.” Her voice croaks again. “And every time Marie’s been sad, you’ve just left everything to come be with her and when David dumped Jason in the fucking highway, who did he call?”

Now I’m crying too and so is Marie.

“So no, I won’t have the best person I know thinking she’s a monster.”

I hug her and we both cry and only when we’ve calmed down, I call my Mum and tell her I’m having lunch with the girls. I promise her tea and biscuits. Selfishly needing some Mum-daughter time too.

After lunch, Ollie falls asleep on the couch halfway through the movie and when it ends, I catch Jason staring at her with a tender smile on his lips.

“She’s fierce, that one.” He whispers.

“Thank God she didn’t have Harry at hands’ reach.” Marie adds.

I giggle softly.

“I know, I wasn’t expecting that.”

Jason’s eyes set on mine and I know he’s trying to read my mind. I let him.

“I think they’re both right.” Jason whispers.

I frown.

“She doesn’t know what we talked about just yesterday.” He reasons. “Maybe if she knew, she wouldn’t have been so hard on him.”

“What did you talk about yesterday?”

“I… I told Jason I felt terrible for the way I treated Harry sometimes. I know it’s just self-destructive shit. I hate doing it but I do and I’ve ended up hurting him. I mean he was right about that pattern he figured out. I do get scare and then push him away and then I regret it so he forgives me and we start all over again.”

“Do you really think you’re bad for him?” Marie whispers.

I look ahead. I think yes. We’ve fought a lot of times. Love is not supposed to be so hard. I think that’s the idea that’s been passed through generations because of Wuthering Heights or Pride and Prejudice but I don’t think that’s what love is. Love should be like loving a brother or a mother. It shouldn’t hurt, it shouldn’t bring more pain than happiness.

“Adam says he thinks you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to Harry.” She tells me. “He says he hasn’t seen Harry this happy since before the accident and that he can see the old Harry coming back. When he said that, I thought the same thing was true for you. I can see you, really, fully happy sometimes. So, as much as I was against you two at the beginning, I cannot agree with you on this.”

“We had a fight at your beach house. There I accused him of being an addict and he said he was an addict, but not to weed.” I nod my head. “Now, if this was some sort of toxic love movie, I would be thrilled that he said that but I’m not. I don’t want him to be addicted to me because addictions are not healthy.”

“I’m pretty sure he didn’t mean it like that.” Jason says.

“He did.” I assure him. “We fight too much.”

“You’re a girl who lost her boyfriend and who thinks she doesn’t deserve to fall in love again and he’s a guy who thinks he ruins his sister’s life and put her on a wheelchair so he also thinks he doesn’t deserve love. Why do you think you fight?”

“See? We’re not good for one another.”

“I beg to differ.”

“So if you don’t want that, what do you want?” Marie asks.

“I just want him to be happy.” I shrug. “He’s genuinely good and I don’t want to hurt him.”

Both Jason and Marie smile but I frown.

“He turns you into such a softie. You really like him.” Marie smiles.

“Of course, I do.”

She smiles.

“He told me he loved me last night.” I confess and both my friends grin and get closer to me. “This morning I thought he didn’t even remember but he just thought that it was going to scare me so he didn’t mention it. He did give me a lot of opportunities to tell him myself so I guess he was just finding out if I felt the same.”

“Well, do you?” Marie asks.

“What does it matter now? He doesn’t want me.”

“There’s no way he loves you on Friday night and doesn’t want you on Saturday morning. That’s not how love works.”

I shrug.

“It’s not the same, you can love someone and still don’t want them.”

“You’re head over heels in love with him like a bitch.” Jason states as if he had just realized that.

I sigh.

I don’t deny it.

Yes, I am.

I am head over heels in love with Harry.

[fanfictrashdump]

Universe in a Jar - Phase 4 fic

OK. I did something. A few days ago I reblogged this post about the magical trio. And then my brain went off on a monumental tangent and this happened. It’s not my fault, really– Loki is my all-time fave, Wanda could murder me and I’d thank her and Stephen is a smart, sassy bitch... all wins.

So, here, y’all can have it. I might leave it there or I might continue depending on my mood. 

Characters: Stephen Strange, Loki, Wanda Maximoff, OC

Rating: T? Language!

Summary: Baby-sitting beings arguably more powerful than him goes awry for Doctor Strange. He knows one person who can possibly keep them isolated and out of trouble. Well, he knew someone who could... he hasn’t seen them in decades and for stupid reasons.

XX

"Wait here. No funny business."

Doctor Stephen Strange half-dragged himself upright to deliver the warning. The portal-hopping and timeline clipping involved in the last twelve hours–if he could even call them that–of his life had really taken it out of him. Who knew fixing tears in the time-space continuum was so exhausting? Doctor Who made it look like a breeze!

Setting his companions with one last threatening glare, he walked up to a faded, run down apartment door with a crooked six hanging just above the knocker. In all honesty, the place looked even worse than what he had anticipated when the hospital directory gave him the address. Still, he knew he had made it here for a reason, despite the fact his stomach was roiling and begging him to reconsider. This was his Hail Mary. Tightening his jaw and frowning himself into another set of early wrinkles, he pounded the wooden entrance so hard the six righted itself.

A minute or so later, the door swung open, a woman filling the empty frame just long enough to lay eyes on the doctor.

"Nope."

The door slammed shut with a noisy shudder just as Stephen opened his mouth. He swallowed the dozen or so expletives that were threatening to wriggle themselves free from his throat. Instead, he straightened his hoodie, loosened his neck with an audible crack, and took a deep breath before the side of his fist struck the door four times.

Pound. Pound. Pound. Pound.

Silence.

Stillness.

His companions beginning to titter in the background because for all his pomp and attitude and the timelines are not to be meddled with–I am the Sorcerer Supreme, he could not get a single human to open the door.

Pound. Pound. Pound. Pound.

His teeth ground together harder in annoyance. "Seph! I have absolutely no problem in staying here all day. Making a fuss. Screaming at your door. Waking the neighbors. Being a nui–"

The door swung open, then. Stephen was met with a frown and eyes dark as storm clouds and for just a second he forgot why he was doing this. "What the fuck do you want?"

His expression softened under her glare, if only minimally. There was a reluctance in his frame that refused to give up even as he said the words. "I need help, Seph." His eyes flittered briefly over his shoulder and it was just long enough for the woman to notice that the sorcerer was not alone.

Standing on her tiptoes, she looked over his shoulder. Just down the harshly lit hallway, two figures–woman dressed in dark red and a man in an all black suit–stood watching the interaction and chattering among themselves. Her expression lightened just a fraction. "Who's the cutie?"

Stephen looked back, furrowing his brow and taking careful inspection of the other two before directing his attention back to the woman at the door. "Which one is the cutie?"

"Take your pick," she challenged back and even though his initial instinct was to roll his eyes and scoff, a little smirk tugged at his lips.

He whistled, gesturing the door with his head. His companions perked, if only due to sheer curiosity about this new person. "Wanda, Loki, meet Dr. Persephone Hale." He sighed, shoulders slumping in anticipation for what was to come out of his mouth. He gathered the most sincere look he could muster and held her gaze. "Please?"

A million expressions fluttered through her features, including a peculiar twitch of her nose he knew only happened when she was about to do something she really didn't want to. He tried not to celebrate the victory too soon. She was, after all, making him wait for it. After a moment of internal deliberation, she stepped aside and Strange signaled in no uncertain terms that the two needed to step inside.

"Thank you for having us. I'm sorry if we're intruding." Wanda looked tense as she spoke, like they had already had plenty of doors slammed in their face. Or perhaps she was just sensing the thoughts and emotions of their host and fearing the worst.

Seph waved her in. "It's not a problem. I am glad to help an Avenger and… an alien god." She offed them both a forced smile. "Where'd you leave the horns?"

Loki chuckled, straightening his suit. "They didn't go with the outfit. May I?"

"Of course. It's him I'm not crazy about."

The smile on Loki's face grew as he sidled past her, leaving Stephen to glare at them both. "Seph–"

"I don't care. I don't care about whatever excuse you're about to give me–"

"I'm sorry! I can't do anything else other than apologize."

"Yes, you're right. Why would the Sorcerer Supreme even bother with the lesser mortals?" With an icy glare, she turned on her heel and stomped into the apartment, though she left the door open in invitation.

Drawing a long sigh, Stephen reconsidered turning time back just ten minutes and foregoing this whole disaster before realizing he had no other choice, and so he followed her in and closed the door behind him.

The entrance hall of the tiny Bronx apartment melted away after a few steps, replacing stale summer air with a crisp country breeze. Faded blue flower-patterned wallpaper was familiar at first sight, as was the well-loved wooden stair banister, worn in places where the steps were squeaky from nights of trying to sneak in after curfew. Knick-knacks and pictures crammed into every possible space brought back memories that he had long since locked into the back of his mind and forgotten about. Everything within his line of sight brought with it a prickle and tingle of a life past but still haunting him, and he loved and hated it in equal measure.

"Who devised this portal? The work is rather formidable," Loki remarked, breaking the silence, in the closest thing to awe that any of the others had ever heard.

"Oh, i-it’s nothing impressive." Seph quipped, brushing away the compliment.

"So you studied alongside Strange, then?"

"No. Not magic, at least." Persephone gestured with her index around the room. "This is the only thing I can do."

"A feat like this without any of those silly rings that he needs? Impressive." He paced around, touching invisible seams and humming to himself. "With a little training you could do very well for yourself." Neither doctor could decide whether the tone he was using was encouraging or threatening.

"I don't think so," she replied, fidgeting in her oversized cardigan. "I was put off early on."

Despite the fact he was pointedly looking out the window, Stephen could tell Seph's gaze had fallen onto him. There were a million other things he would rather do than have that conversation–a root canal with no lidocaine, for example. He, instead, forced his focus on staring at the house sitting a couple of hundred meters away. The red trim of the roof was looking faded and the gutters were a little loose but it did not seem like the house was in total disrepair.

"I haven't been home in ages," he muttered, off-handedly.

"Oh! Weren't you born and raised in Manhattan? At least according to the Times, anyway." The sarcastic tone Persephone used made an uncomfortable weight press down into his stomach. He opted to count how many missing shingles there were on the roof.

"Ah, so there's history. That explains the dread at having to come to her door," Loki announced genially, clearly in need of some entertainment. "Wanda, you've lost our wager."

"Loki," Wanda warned, taking the time to fix him with a look before gesturing at the other two. They seemed to have been fighting a war entirely through stares.

"Which door leads outside?"

Seph rolled her eyes. "Which fucking door do you think leads outside, Stephen? I thought you were this hot shot genius doctor!"

"I am asking because that door," he gestured at the front door, "leads to the middle of nowhere in the Bronx."

"Then maybe don't take the door that leads to the Bronx, then, jackass. Or better yet, do. Until now, you've never had a problem finding a door away from me."

"That–" He killed the retort before it had a chance to meet the air and instead pivoted his questioning. "Is the key still under the mat?"

"I don't fucking know. Where did you leave the key twenty-whatever years ago you last graced your own doorstep?" With that last remark, she stormed off and up the stairs, cardigan billowing behind her, while Strange wrenched the back door open and threw himself into the field between the houses.

Wanda and Loki shared a look before making themselves scarce, elsewhere.

XX

About an hour later, Wanda opened the door to what she presumed was the main bedroom and peeked inside. Persephone lay with her limbs splayed out, dark curls smushed on one side, blinking blankly at the ceiling. With a sigh, she opened the door a bit more and let herself in.

"I hope you don't mind. Loki and I made some tea. And he might have eaten a whole sleeve of Oreos."

Seph laughed despite her gloom and shuffled to sit up against the headboard. Wanda smiled, offering her an extra mug in her hand, steam billowing from the top invitingly. "Sorry. I've been a terrible hostess."

"You're more hostage than hostess at the moment. I don't blame you." Wanda sipped at her tea for a minute in tense silence. "So, when did you and Stephen date? And how did he fuck it up?"

The responding snort was heartfelt and led to a long laugh. "No. Stephen and I have never dated."

"But there is history."

She ruffled her curls back into shape, out of nervous habit more than concern, and sighed. "Hard not to have when you've known him all your life. He grew up in that house across the way."

"I assumed as much." She gave her an encouraging smile, like a mother coaxing her teen into conversation. It worked exceptionally well on Seph. "Come on. We were neighbors growing up does not cover the level of tension from earlier."

Seph shrugged. "We both wanted to be doctors. I followed him to the same schools, undergrad and med school. We were pretty much our own support system. His sister passed, and his parents, my mom. We always figured it out together–"

There was a bit of confusion in the witch's face. "OK. That sounds really sweet, though."

"–and then one day I told him a secret. I told him I could make doors go to other places and I showed him, and I haven't seen him since."

“Ah, right.” Wanda winced. "That… sucks."

"Yep." She popped the 'p' before sipping at her tea.

"But when he got into magic, surely he–?"

"Nope." She swallowed at a lump in her throat and pushed away the ball of emotions that thinking on that day was dredging up. "That day he said I was crazy, that I drugged him. I've never heard an apology but he somehow gets to be Sorcerer Supreme."

Wanda sighed, taking a long draw from her tea before adding. "Jeez, what a dick."

"I'm assuming this scrawny, little thing is him," Loki remarked from the door, startling both women. He held out a framed picture of four children. "I am assuming he was bullied on that haircut alone."

"No worse than being the only Black kid in school in a small town in rural Nebraska," Seph retorted with a wry grin. Loki considered and shrugged, sitting at the bottom of the bed with what appeared to be a pack of saltines. "That's his little brother, Victor. He's the taller kid. The girl is his sister, Donna. That's the last picture we took before Victor died."

"Didn't his sister die, as well?" Persephone nodded. "So, they've all died. Seems like he's a harbinger of bad luck. Maybe we'd do well to stay away," he quipped, tossing the picture onto the mattress.

"Yes, tell us about harbingers of bad luck, Mr. I've Died More Times Than I Can Remember," Wanda sassed back, much to the other two's amusement.

"I have a question, Lady Hale."

She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Seph is fine, Loki."

"These portals, can you make them go anywhere?"

She shook her head. "Only places I've been to, sorry. Can't send you back to whatever planet you want to run off to."

He tsk'ed. "Well, it was worth a try."

"What did you two do to get stuck with the magic police?"

"Created a whole new reality by escaping my first arrest" "Held a whole town hostage in a fake TV show." They replied simultaneously.

"Fuck. No wonder he's desperate," Seph muttered to herself. "Why doesn't he just keep you in the fancy sorcerer place?"

"Too many artifacts to play with." "Too many books with dark magic."

"OK. He's clearly in over his head. No wonder he came here. There's no way he could keep you both controlled and contained without the..." She gestured around the room to signify the magic of her bubble.

"It's nice to let him pretend." Loki offered with a wink. "It's endearing."

Persephone laughed, sparing a passing thought to the idiot who didn't know what he got into. "Well, if you're stuck here, anyway, there's plenty of bedrooms. The bathroom is down the hall. Make yourself comfortable and relax. I'm going to go get dinner started."

Wanda smiled, stretching happily. "I'll take you up on that. I need a shower and some sleep."

Loki smirked. "I'll join you in the kitchen, if you don't mind."

XX

When Stephen returned, a long while later, he was immediately drawn to the familiar smells permeating the house and warming him from the inside out as much as the soft, honeyed whispers being exchanged in the dim light of the kitchen. He found Loki and Persephone at the stove, speaking in hushed voices, closer to each other than he would have deemed appropriate–definitely flirty. Loki had changed out of the black suit into a pair of joggers and a dark green tshirt and seemed downright at home bantering with the human over the simmering pot. His ease made Stephen's left eye twitch immediately, some long-forgotten jealousy roiling in his chest and clenching his fists on their own accord. He cleared his throat loudly to pull their attention.

Seph rolled her eyes and turned back to the pot to stir, though Loki lingered close for a few extra moments before taking half a step back.

"I guess the fun police is back," she muttered under her breath and Loki chuckled.

"Loki, could you go check on Wanda, please?"

"Wanda is sleeping, so no." He turned back to his companion, whispered something into her ear that made her giggle and turn to face him, bottom lip caught between her teeth.

The way his eyes trailed from her lips to his gaze made something snap inside the sorcerer. "Just get lost, will you?"

Seph craned her neck, fixing him with a glare. "Leave him alone. This is my house." Loki grinned, leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek with a smug glint in his eye.

"I need to talk to you."

"Funnily enough, I heard all I needed to two decades ago, so…"

"Persephone, I am not playing here, I–" His demand was cut short by the flickering of the walls. Invisible curtains dividing this world from the little ratty apartment in the Bronx were faltering. Just beyond the constraints of the space, a whole new area, neither New York nor Nebraska, was reflected for just a second before it flashed back.

"It's alright, darling. He knows he has no authority here. Settle down, dove," Loki cooed cautiously, eyeing their surroundings with caution. "Do you want me to give you a moment with him?"

Seph sighed, studying Loki’s expression before nodding reluctantly. "Like I have a choice with this idiot."

"Very well. I will make myself scarce." He inclined his head at her, a gentle smile attached. Once he turned, he gave Strange a dirty look with a multitude of silent warnings and retreated to the living room.

Stephen snorted. "What did you do, bribe him?"

Rolling her eyes, she turned back to the stove. "Nope. He was hungry. I fed him. You'd be surprised how much less surly he is when he's full."

He frowned. "We ate before coming here."

"Hm… what's your excuse, then?" After a minute of silence, she glanced over her shoulder to check he was still there. He was. Unfortunately. "Besides, he eats three times as much as you do. Whatever you had wouldn't have made a dent."

"How do you know that?"

She let out a single laugh. "It's this revolutionary practice called talking. You wouldn't know about it, scalpel jock."

"Here’s a thought. How about you let your disdain for me go long enough for us to have a conversation."

The spoon in her hand slammed into the pot with a splash, driving bits of stew everywhere. Reality flickered within the portal and time dilated just long enough for him to notice before everything went smashing back into place. She was good at repressing these feelings, he knew. She must have spent their decades apart trying to control herself, unaided, and now it was his fault that she was losing control.

"How can you pretend that the single worst day of my life is just water under the bridge, Stephen?" She turned from the stove and he noticed her eyes glowed faintly in their intense hazel. "You accused me of drugging you, of deceiving you! I was grieving, my life was a mess, and I suddenly opened doors to places I hadn't been to in years, entirely by accident." She began to close the space between them, rounding the kitchen table. He felt like he should make a hasty retreat but found he lacked the ability. "I was terrified. I needed you! And you left me! I had no one!" Her voice cracked at the end, eyes filling with tears as she did all she could to retain the glare she was directing at him. "And after all that shit, you find magic and you–you didn't even have the decency to come and talk to me until you needed something."

"I didn't understand what had happened, OK? I opened your closet door and stepped into my childhood bedroom, Seph! How was that logical?"

"How did you think I felt, fucker? I was the one doing it!" Her voice rose to a shout and Stephen was quick to match it.

"I'm sorry! OK? I am sorry. I shouldn't have left. I should have reached out to you sooner. I should have helped. I am sorry. I'm s o r r y, but I was a dumb kid and the girl I was in love with could make distances shrink into nothing and I panicked!"

"You should've stayed gone, then," she replied, icily. "Because the boy I was in love with died when you left me alone in that room."

Cold filled his veins, and his spine quivered at her words. This was pure hatred, plain and simple. He couldn't find it within himself to blame her, to logic his way out of his role in her misery. Every excuse he could offer could be countered with 'yes, and it was happening to her, too'. She had been his one support through every bit of rotten luck he ever had. And he left her to her fate in a strange city without a lifeline. He never imagined he would be back to have this conversation, to pick at the scabbed-over wounds he had inflicted long ago.

"Persephone… Seph…" His hands tentatively grasped for her shoulders and gave a squeeze. She flinched, but did not pull away. "I am so sorry." With a little more coaxing, he had enveloped her in his arms, his nose pressed into her hair and inhaling the familiar scent of coconut. "I'm sorry. I am sorry," he chanted, feeling the front of his shirt dampening with her tears as her shoulders relaxed and molded into him. "I am going to make it up to you. I swear."

Persephone sniffled, pulling away from his frame. "I've waited a lifetime for you to come back for me." She blinked and tears streamed down her cheeks. "But I don't want that, anymore.” She made distance, wiping at her eyes and steeling her resolve. He wanted to pull her back to him. She needed to understand his point of view, though it suddenly occurred to him that he never bothered to understand hers. “You're welcome to stay as long as you need. But this isn't fixable, Stephen."

After a tense moment of staring at each other, she skirted past him, ignoring his protests and pleads to talk, opened the pantry door and disappeared through it with a ripple. 

“Stellar job, Strange. Now we’re stuck until she gets back,” Loki commented as he slipped into the kitchen, grabbed a bowl of stew and sneaked back out. 

For once, Stephen did not argue.

[missinghan]

night changes (2) ⤖ bang chan

❖ genre : rich kid!au

❖ word count : 21k.

❖ warning : explicit language & mentions of alcohol

❖ summary : fate decides to backfire when you try to pull the son of the Senator in as a barrier between your life and Bang Chan.

❖ a/n : read pt.1 beforehand to understand the story better, I’m too tired to proofread this after the nth time, please don’t @ me.

one. The only reason why your mom persuaded Jeongin to move after when you moved in with your dad was college being practically thirty minutes away from the place. And also because of the rent. You feel bad for your brother mainly since the walls there are awfully thin and the girl next door always seems to have someone over every other night. They aren’t exactly trying to be subtle either. Sometimes you wonder how the fuck can he study for finals when the noise pollution can’t get any worse but he still manages to hit straight A-s.

On the other hand, you and Felix never have to worry about things such as students’ loans or college tuition. Every single penny was paid, as well as every other necessity in life. But you feel like nothing but a filler or a mannequin whenever you dad demands for intimate parties where you’re forced to sit still and look pretty when he’s too busy talking business with the other families. You’re just simply there, in his circle of status. Even when you’re all dressed up in designers’ clothes and whatnots, you still feel so out of place, sticking out like a sore thumb.

“Someone didn’t get enough sleep last night,” Felix rolls his eyes dramatically when you pull up right in front of a rather ugly tree, scowling hard. “And you’re seriously taking your Rover today? Where did all of your standards go?” He glances sideways and sees a black Mercedes right in front of your car but shrugs it off shortly after.

“Hey! You take that back! She’s my baby! And also, it’s not gonna freak Jeongin out as much as your Tesla would,” you chuckle and punch his arm, earning a wholehearted laugh in return. Despite being born in a well off family, your stepbrother isn’t as much of an asshole as you’re expecting him to be. He’s pretty down to earth and acts like every other college kid that you’ve met with a questionable obsession with Fortnite. Except he loves to shove all the logos of luxurious brands into people’s faces who keep pissing him off, making him that much more intimidating.

“Wait here or stay there, pick your poison,” you tell him before grabbing your key and exit the car.

Felix mumbles something along the lines of ‘don’t be so rude’ and trails after you. He flutters his eyes upwards to take a closer look at the apartment complex before him. It’s quite small but seems very cozy. He wonders if it does feel less isolating and cold when there isn’t so much extra space around him all the time. “Hurry up, Lix! Jeongin gotta run to class in three hours.” With that, he hastily follows you up a narrow, rusty flight of stairs, the place reeks off the smell his dad always despises. He calls it ‘the subway smell’.

When your hand is hovering over the wooden door, it suddenly swings open, revealing an impossibly handsome guy. Chestnut brown hair, midnight orbs, tall nose, and peachy lips. He has you completely frozen for a good five seconds before you snap out of it, raising an eyebrow. Since when did Jeongin have hot guys as his roommates? And since when did your mom even allow him to have roommates? “Uhm sorry, you are..?”

The stranger smiles, perfectly showcasing his white. That’s your weak spot too. You’re a complete sucker for guys with cute smiles. “I’m Jaemin, and uh, my friend asked me to come over and help him with an upcoming exam.” You subconsciously stare at his outfits for a while, seeing no signs of any designers’ pieces. But his posture screams mad confidence, straight back, always maintaining eye contact, like he’s been raised in a wealthy family just like Felix. You can’t help but automatically judge people for what they wear, it’s been drilled into your mindset at some point and you hate yourself for that.

“Hello? Are you okay?” He waves his hand when you stay unresponsive. He partially thinks that you’re mentally judging him for acting like a weirdo.

You laugh nervously, completely oblivious of how Felix is facepalming himself behind your back. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’m here to look for my brother.”

“Brother who?” Jaemin narrows his eyes at you skeptically.

“Yang Jeongin? Ring any bell?”

“What? Jeongin never told me he had a sis—“ his gasp is cut off midway when a hand flies to his mouth out of nowhere and pulls him backward. Your brother pokes his head out from behind Jaemin and smiles sheepishly. You can’t help but notice how different his smile is. Oh…where are his braces?

Jeongin says flatly, “Hey, sis, long time no see.” Then he scratches the nape of his neck, unsure of what to say. “Uhm, so what are you doing here?” It’s really been a while since you last saw him. Your dad can’t really do anything because your mom had full custody of raising him and he wanted to stay with her either way. He said he wouldn’t feel like he belongs if he dares to take a single footstep into his billion dollars mansion. Sometimes it feels like you’re just two strangers with the same blood coursing through your veins, family in name, but not in fact. But to be fair, you don’t even have the same last name as him.

“Where’s mom?” You avoid his question before stepping into the studio apartment completely. The last time you were here was when you’re still a freshman in college, you believe. And now all you can do is stand there in awe.

There was nothing but cardboard boxes scattered everywhere, dirty dishes piling up day by day, chipping wallpapers and a crusty old couch that the previous owner left behind as a result of your heartbroken mom. It used to make you grimace but holy shit, mom really did pull herself together. The place is freshly renovated, the smell of new paint is still evident, a teal couch, wooden cabinets, clean kitchen, bathroom on the left along with a brand new TV. Although it’s not the newest model of any sort, you can see how far your mom has come. She worked hard for your brother, and it’s definitely paying off.

Jeongin whispers something into Jaemin’s ears and pushes him out the front door, leaving a very shocked-looking Felix as a witness. “She’s at work,” he states the obvious monotonously.

“Oh,” you chuckle to yourself and let your fingers dance along the kitchen aisle. “Silly me. Anyway, when did you have your braces off? Last week?”

“It’s been a lot longer than that, Y/N. The last time you saw me was Woojin’s wedding.” He massages the side of his temple, sighing heavily. And your heart sinks, a pang of guilt always seems to be inevitable whenever you come over to visit him. Even when it’s only once or twice a year, you could never move on with life without knowing how he’s doing. You tried. “What are you doing here?”

You cut to the chase, “Dad wants you to come and join his party at the hotel this weekend. Nothing major, just another event as an excuse for him to make more money. And also he said he wanted to see you.”

“As if he needs any more money,” your brother sneers. “And he wanted to see me? Don’t be ridiculous. The old man probably wants me there to humiliate the shit out of me so that I’ll stay away from him and his precious jewels.” You perk a brow at what he’s referring you and Felix to, “I’m not gonna be there and smile through the whole thing. I don’t even own a tuxedo for fuck’s sake! Those people aren’t just rich, they’re crazy rich. They’re snoshy, and loud, and act all elegant with thousands of dollars draped over their bodies—“

Felix makes a face, “Snoshy?”

“Posh and snobby.”

“Are you coming for my accent?”

“I dare not.”

He laughs and swings an arm around Jeongin’s shoulders. “Good move, kid. Now get in the car, loser, we’re going shopping.”

The younger boy scrunches his nose in disgust, shoving your stepbrother away. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Don’t make me put you in timeout.”

two. Jeongin feels like he’s sitting on a pile of burning coal instead of the espresso-colored velvet couch in the middle of a Tom Ford store. Soft white light slipping through the ceiling, walls embedded with mirrors all around and closets that are probably made with the finest kinds of wood. Even the fake pot of flowers on the glass coffee table in front of him looks more expensive than everything he owns combined. While he’s receiving dirty looks from some of the staff, Felix on the other hand, is too busy skimming through the watches and ties displayed inside the see-through cabinets.

Being humiliated just because he doesn’t dress like ‘your people’ makes him wanna bust through the door and stay at home for three consecutive days. People already disrespected him in a clothing store, what will happen if he attends that stupid intimate party? He’s not gonna fit into the social circle just because he’s wearing some designers’ pieces because that’s not who he is.

“Wrap those up for me,” you voice, face stoic of any emotions.

A staff at the checkout nervously laces her fingers together, a bead of sweat unknowingly rolls down on her temple. “Miss Lee! Having you buy our newest collection is more than we can ever afford, I’ll make sure to contact our superior to let you—“

“To let me fire you?” You cut her off, voice soft and stern at the same time. “Oh please, don’t bother,” the staff almost jumps back when you place one of your hands on hers, your rings cold against her burning skin as shivers run down her spine. “Minho will take good care of you, I guarantee.”

Jeongin groans in pure frustration when you wave at him, smiling in your luxurious glory when he’s sitting inside a high-end store like an absolute idiot. “Tom Ford? What is wrong with you people?” Felix glares at him and he immediately puts his hands up in defense. “Right, sorry. But would you mind and just strangle me right here right now so that I won’t make a grave mistake by putting that on? Can’t I just wear the tux that I had on Woojin’s wedding?” You bringing Felix along had already suffocated him enough when he literally lives and breathes in Gucci. Jeongin is not a fan of the tiger on his bomber jacket either.

“Eh..it’s a little dated, wouldn’t hurt to buy a new one. And did you really think that your sister’s gonna let you pay by yourself? How innocent,” Felix puts an arm over his shoulders when he refers to the brand new suit jacket, dress shirt and slacks on the marble counter. All that for more than ten thousand dollars, so… he’s gonna need more than ten years to pay you back. “Also, did you know that your sister is scary when someone pisses her off?” He whispers under his breath, slightly scared that you’re gonna catch his words.

“You’re wasting my time,” you hand your credit card over to the other staff, in which he receives with shaking hands. “Get yourself clean up and pack your bags, I’m sure a professional like you would have no problem landing another job like this.”

Jeongin almost gawks at how you’re giving ten thousand dollars away like you’re simply buying a burger at McDonald’s. He even feels bad for the staff who’s on the verge of breaking down, tears brimming in the corners of her eyes. She did treat him like he was trying to rob the place but having her fired is far too harsh. Now he knows why he should never be on your bad side. “I think I do now.” He swallows thickly with two hands on his knees, the muscles on his back tense.

“Ma’am, I’m so sorry for the inconvenience, we—“

You smile coldly, “That’s enough, I believe you all can reconsider your own behaviors towards customers. All of your customers.”

“Yep,” Felix catches the jet black Tom Ford bag when you walk past the couch, seemingly busy talking on the phone with Minho. “Iced cold motherfucker.”

Then, an unfamiliar figure enters the store the moment you walk out the door. Felix and Jeongin also pass by her without a second look even when they both accidentally catch some parts of her conversation with the staff. Fuzzily. So he doesn’t bother to think too much about it. “Good afternoon, ma’am, how can we help you?”

“I’m here to pick up a tuxedo for my boyfriend,” the girl takes off her sunglasses and grins, a smile that can take the breath right out of anyone.

The staff returns her smile and taps away on the iPad while the others are escorting the crying woman into the bathroom. “May we have the name please?”

Felix tosses the bag into the car trunk as soon as you start the engine, hurrying to the backseats after. Jeongin has his arms crossed in front of his chest in the passenger’s seat, no words can describe how frustrated, and mad, and partially relieved he feels right now all at once. All will be revealed in the next episode of how his sister fucks up every relationship he’s ever made, stay tuned folks!

“I was having a migraine just by seeing you handing out one of your five other credit cards. And firing her too? Aren’t you being too harsh? Couldn’t you spare her any sense of kindness at least?”

You laugh monotonously, “There are way worse things that could have happened to her. Trust me, you don’t wanna know what ‘my people’ can do.” This isn’t the first time you’ve seen some self excessively conceited staff who judges people by their social background. And now they had the audacity to insult your brother? Being fired is the only sense of kindness that you can give them for today.

“Great, now I’m gonna have to pay the old man back.”

You carefully take a turn and almost snort at your brother’s pointless concern. “That was my money, in my own defense. I don’t live off dad’s pennies anymore.” Even if it was your dad’s money, he would never make his biological son pay for what he can’t even afford. That’s like…asking a vegetarian why they want to bring down the mood of a BBQ party.

Jeongin replies flatly, looking out the window in boredom. “Huh, funny. Last time I checked, you said you were working at his hotel. Who’s the big boss there? Where does all the money come from? Him. Same thing.”

“Are you familiar with the triggers of migraines?” Felix abruptly places a hand on Jeongin’s shoulders, almost giving him a heart attack.

Jeongin doesn’t know much about migraines but he does know that your stepbrother is high-key a weirdo who just happens to be born with a butt load of money. “Uh…no?” If he happens to live in the same home with this idiot, he’s gonna go insane in a minimum of twenty-four hours. No doubt.

Felix excitedly laces his hand together and you mentally facepalm yourself. You’re so over his discussion about stuff like this because you know damn well he’s just trying to take it out on people after being stuck in med school for two years. He’s convinced that he’s gonna kill people instead of curing them so his mom gave him the consent to drop out to prolong the family’s legacy. “Here are some of them so that you know what not to do; from most likely to least likely: emotional stress, hormone, not eating, the fucking weather, sleep disturbances, certain odors, neck pain, alcohol, bright lights, smoke, certain foods, exercise, sexual activities, etc.”

“Sexual activities? Like a hangover after getting laid?” Jeongin asks.

“No, like just sex itself but it’s not supposed to happen that often so don’t worry too much about that.”

You automatically grit, feeling the need to bleach your ears after this. “Do not encourage him.”

“Hey! This is for educational purposes! Besides, it’s not like he’s still a little boy or whatever, he’s an adult now. #LifeCoachingWithLeeYongbok.” Felix takes no time to defend himself. “Now, I wish I could lecture you about the hypothalamus and give you a long-winded explanation of the science behind it, but Imma spare you for today.” Even if it were possible for you to sew his lips together, there’s no doubt that those unnecessarily inappropriate words would still find their ways to crawl out of his mouth and potentially mess up your little brother’s entire existence.

You let out a humorless chuckle, one that yells ‘hey, stop before you fucked it up for the rest of us’. “I’d hate to poke your enormous ego, but whoever attends your classes is gonna have their life crumbling right in front of their eyes.”

Felix simpers at your attempt of a clapback. “Actually no, people who attend my classes drastically turn their life around because they know what not to do. If you think about it, all of my advice to you has been great. I just don’t practice what I preach,” he tuts in that deepass voice of his, not noticing how Jeongin’s face is morphing into a very disgusted expression. “Just one more shot, I’ll be fine. I can quit whenever I want. I’m not addicted,” he mocks one of his friends who can’t stop drinking for their own good. “No, you won’t you lying bitch. An example of someone who followed that sentiment is right in front of you.”

He fairly believes that he can become the youngest professor to be teaching at a college or university with a Ph.D. in the ‘Getting your shit together’ Department.

But in your eyes, these are just some of the side effects that he got from hanging out with Minho so much. Being bitchy and all. If anything, Minho should be the one who takes his spot and becomes the youngest staff for big places like Harvard or Oxford. And you’d love to continue this nonsense of an argument but you’re already pissed off by that staff previously so you should just let him win or your dad’s gonna find you three ending up in the E.R.

“So this is what I get for setting you up with Chan,” Jeongin crosses his arms and you glance at him sideways, staying silent for the rest of the drive home.

three. Chan dreads the packing process after a long tremendously because not only does he have to trust his idiotic friends to not damage his luggage, he also has to help them pack since they are literal children. Changbin’s butler straight up shakes his head when Chan FaceTimed him, asking about how he usually helps him with preparation for a trip. He really hopes his family pays the man good money because dealing with Changbin’s impulsive, indecisive ass sounds extremely exhausting, and burdensome as well.

“Which one?” Changbin refers to a dozen of black tuxedos hanging inside the dressing room, and Chan feels like his brain’s about to retire.

He exclaims in frustration, “THEY’RE ALL BLACK FOR FUCK’S SAKE!”

“No you uneducated moron,” Changbin purses his lips, “There’s carbon black, raisin black, olive black, super black, coal-black,..which one’s sexy enough for me to snatch myself a date at the party?”

“Seo Changbin!”

Chan’s been so sensitive these days, to the point that he decided to whack a mosquito with his MacBook the other day. He did miss the mosquito, but also, he almost killed Jisung who’s taking a nap right beside him in the studio. And apparently, Han Jisung holds grudges. Hence, there’s no way in hell is he gonna help Chan in the ‘Getting Seo Changbin aka the snobby brat the perfect tuxedo’ Operation. It would be way easier if Jisung was here.

Changbin interjects his trains of thoughts, “Silk or wool?”

“Uh- silk.”

“The Gabardine one or the smoking jacket?”

Chan makes a face, “Smoking jacket?” Whatever that means. He didn’t like the shoulder pads on the other one anyway.

“You heard him, Park, go get that ish and wrap it up! Go go go!” Changbin pauses for a second, “Wait, no, actually…just take them both.”

Call him delusional, but in the span of ten seconds, Chan fully believes he’s already entered (or has been pushed into) the Panamera 4 E-Hybrid that’s waiting outside of the mall. Jisung’s sitting in the passenger’s seat, honking the car repeatedly while the Seo family’s chauffeur is constantly throwing daggers at him with his eyes. Now he’s starting to question if bringing Jisung to the mall would be the wisest decision.

“What’s with the grumpy face, grandpa?” He chimes unhelpfully with a pout on his face. And now all Chan wants to do is to deck his perfect teeth and knock upside his head. “You really need to lighten up, old man, you’re going home!” He groans dramatically, arms crossed like a three-year-old.

“Yeah, going home,” Chan says with expressive hands. “To put on a goddamn show for my grandparents so that they won’t have a heart attack knowing that I can’t give two fucks about their promise with some random family in the same circle.” He’s on the verge of breaking down just thinking about going hand in hand in public with another woman that’s not you. It makes him sick to the stomach more knowing that he’s been hiding everything from you.

He’s such an asshole for doing this to you. Avoiding your calls and texts every other day becomes almost all too unbearable for his shoulders. Instead, he’s been trying to leave you voicemails every other week but it seems like you’ve already despised him. The night of Woojin’s wedding comes crashing down on him as he takes a stroll down memory lane. He might as well be cursed because there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to have you in his arms again. The saying: “out of sight, out of mind” works for some people as an excuse to forget someone but truth is, he still misses you, all the time, every second, every minute, every hour, every day.

“So you didn’t tell her?” Changbin perks a dark brow.

“Not yet…”

“You should though,”

Chan barks, “I know! She just won’t answer my voicemails,”

“Then call her you coward!” Changbin immediately barks back, fingers still tapping away on his phone, “Look, if Y/N was your date in the first place, you would be crazy giddy and all right now, and not the nervous kind of giddy, but like the exciting kind of giddy. You are so loopy in love with her it makes me wanna feed my eyeballs to my dad’s German Shepherd whenever you’re FaceTiming her,”

Chan’s been clenching his jaw for God knows how long, and now it’s starting to ache. “Don’t say that, she probably hates me. Like you said, I’m a coward. I don’t deserve her and she doesn’t deserve this. Falling for Y/N was probably the dumbest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life. All I’ve been doing is tearing us apart. Sometimes I wish I didn’t fall for her—“

“—listen up, you genius. If falling for Y/N is a sin then so be it. Because being in love with her is gonna be the best fucking mistake you’ve ever made in your twenty-three years of existing,” Changbin’s words start zeroing in on Chan, so when he opens his mouth to say something, it automatically snaps closed. “I’ve never seen your eyes do that thing where they sparkle whenever we mention her name or when you’re just simply giggling to yourself while texting her. And have you seen the way that she looks at you? She looks at you like you’re the only person to exist on this planet, like someone she’s ever truly loved more than herself.”

Chan drops his gaze from Changbin to his knees, his heart beating rapidly at the sound of your name. Goddamn, he really misses you. “It’s okay, Bin, even if she hates me. I can—“

Changbin interjects immediately, gripping onto his friend’s shoulders tightly and stares into his tired eyes. “Don’t fucking tell me that it’s okay because I saw you alone in the studio every night. You were crying like a baby!” Seo Changbin gives really good advice because pushing people to their limits, not crossing them, just dangling at the edge so that they can’t stop acting like a loser and get their shit together is what he does for a living. Without getting paid a single penny.

“It’s because I’m losing her! I did that to myself!” Chan shudders at his own words, shaking his head profusely to hold back his tears. The idea of losing you sounds so terrifyingly panic-stricken that he would rather lose anything else than not have you in his life, or just not having you at all in the first place. Chan was an idiot for kissing you that night but something deep down still tells him that “screw life, you said what you said and you did what you did, now go out there and get her back before she falls into someone else’s arms”.

Changbin corrects him, pinpointing his words. “You’re losing her, you didn’t lose her yet. You still have an opportunity to make it up to her.” He knows Chan long enough to know that his friend doesn’t easily wear his feelings on his sleeves, mainly because he’s the eldest in 3RACHA. If he falls, the group’s gonna fall with him. But today, seeing the pool of tears in his eyes, the raw emotions in his voice makes Changbin believe that he’s senselessly, wildly in love with you. He knows damn well that Chan would never let you slip away again.

“This is your chance, to prove to Y/N that you’re still the goofy, caring, dumbass Bang Chan that she has already fallen in love with, not only once, but twice.”

four. “Have you been hearing anything from Chan? He hasn’t called me for two months. Changbin and Jisung have been avoiding me like the plague too.” Woojin asks you with a questionable looking drink in his hand. Minho said he mixed the masterpiece with all of his blood, sweat, and tears. You don’t know how to take it, metaphorically, or literally because both options would make sense. You’re just fairly concerned for Woojin’s liver since he’s been attending too many parties, mainly for business but still, that doesn’t mean he’s not gonna stay away from alcohol.

So much for adulting.

“Not really,” you didn’t want to admit that Chan was ignoring your texts and calls before but it’s quite obvious now that he doesn’t want to talk to you. You didn’t think about it much at the beginning because everything must have been so hard for him in a foreign country where young talents are out there competing with each other like they’re in The Hunger Games. But daily conversations turned into weekly, and then monthly and then basically non-existent. No more ‘Good morning’, no more ‘How was your day?’, no more ‘I miss you’. None of that.

The kiss that day seems like it’s disintegrated into literal dust.

‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder’ sounds like utter bullshit now and you’ve never felt so foolish for saying ‘I love you’ to someone you truly believe won’t take your heart and crush it. But Chan did just that. You spent lots of sleepless nights thinking, and bawling your eyes out. You felt so lost and tremendously hurt. You didn’t know what to do. But you soon figured that it’s okay, people aren’t supposed to know what to do in those kinds of situations. You just gotta figure it out by yourself. So wherever he may be, whatever he’s doing, you still hope that he’s happy. That’s all that matters.

Or maybe you’re just too tired to reach out to him again.

You reply with a lifeless smile, bracing yourself for the upcoming party that’s starting in less than an hour. “He hardly talks to me. He doesn’t even text me in full sentences anymore.” You shrug it off casually, ignoring the sound of your heart aching to focus on other stuff for the time being. “Maybe he’s just busy? You know how problematic the music industry is.”

“Being busy isn’t an excuse to ignore your loved ones, Y/N,” Woojin knits his brows together. “Mind you, I still come home to my wife at nine o’clock, every single day.”

You check the time and almost panic, but before you can form a proper sentence, someone’s already dragged you away from the scene, “Look after Jeongin for me! Got it?” You yell back at him only to receive a thumbs up with a grimace. Woojin is the CEO of a well-known IT firm, after all, no one’s gonna mess with Jeongin if he stays by his side. The last thing you want is your brother coming home sobbing his heart out just because some wonderbread doesn’t know when to keep their mouth shut.

“I’m like..” You trail off while tapping away on your phone. “—pretty much free tomorrow morning, right?”

Chaeyoung - your assistant frowns and stops you midway, smoothing out your baby hair. “Not quite, you can’t skip DBR at seven,” she asserts. “And the daily phone call with your dad- I mean, the CEO at half-past six as well.” It’s obvious that everyone wants a coffee in the morning and since it’s a common time to gather, it seems like DBR (or Daily Business Review) is a good idea to just have a meeting before the day starts. The rules are simple. The meeting can not last more than half an hour and to make sure, you all stand up. You talk about the night before, VIPs coming in, the forecast for the coming day and any common issues to the group. Then you all dismiss and go to work. This way, everyone is on the same page 24/7.

“Oh, and a meeting at three too, and also the Kims Are coming in fifteen minutes.” She checks her watch subconsciously and it reads [7:30p.m.]

“Right, right,” you close your eyes for a moment and let the information sink in, slightly taken aback by yourself that you forgot Jennie’s coming back from New Zealand. The party won’t start until eight, you can still spare fifteen minutes and chat with your friend before being pulled away into utterly unnecessary conversations. “I can’t believe I almost forgot Jen’s visiting us…” You murmur under your breath, “God, Chaeng, what would I do without you?”

Chaeyoung pushes your shoulder playfully, “You’d die, obviously.” She’s not necessarily wrong because if it weren’t for her to manage your shitty schedule, your life would become a fucking merry-go-round which makes you all nauseous and dizzy. As if you’re not being tossed around and fucked up enough.

“Hypothetically speaking, I can just hire another assistant and move on with my life,” you smile cheekily.

She follows you towards the front desk, where Lisa is too busy texting someone cute to focus on her main task: greeting people that she despises with her entire existence. “Well, hypothetically speaking, no one can replace me and you would never have the heart to do that anyway.” Again, you hate it when she’s right. And she’s always right. Because she’s Park Chaeyoung.

You put your phone away finally and ask her about your beige suit with matching high-waisted slacks. “How do I look?” Also, you’re never wearing heels again because you’ve learned not to torment your precious feet when you’re gonna be out and about, being dragged around like a rag doll. Woojin’s wedding taught you that.

Chaeyoung gives you the warmest smile, “Like a boss bitch,”

“You have to come with us to Bora Bora this summer! We just opened a summer resort there with a beach and spa services, it’s absolutely delightful! Very fitting for de-stressing, dare I say.”

“How convenient! Do you see these wrinkles? We were all exhausted after the flight from New York. And I’m stressing over how it’s impossible for my son to improve his English. How in the world is he gonna travel the world for business trips now?”

“Ew,” you automatically scrunch your nose at your stepmom’s conversation with the Senator’s wife. “If we’re gonna act like that when we’re their age, I’d rather jump off a cliff.” And Chaeyoung clears her throat awkwardly when she sees your mom waving you over, giving you a pat on your back. There goes your fifteen minutes of freedom.

You quickly fix the lapels of your blazer and muster a sickly sweet smile, just for the Senator’s wife. “Yes, mom?” Or in this case, ‘stepmom’ but you wouldn’t want it to be awkward for the both of them. She does treat you with nothing but kindness and generosity although you’re not her actual daughter.

“Honey,” you almost snort at the nickname. Honey is practically a bee’s vomit. So you don’t really see the point in calling people bee’s barf. Ain’t cool. “You must know that this is the Senator’s wife, she suggested that you and their son can perhaps—“

You cut her off sharply. “No,”

“Y/N, don’t be so rude,” she laughs nervously as the Senator’s wife wears an unreadable look on her face. As if she’s interested in your particular kind of demeanor like you’re a completely different species. She doesn’t seem to be mad or offended at all. “I’m sorry, you see, this girl can play hard to get from time to time…and—“

You elect to ignore every word that comes out of her mouth from this very moment. Not again with this bullshit. An arranged marriage is basically a living embodiment of your biggest nightmare. You can’t imagine being tied down to a person that you barely know just because of their social status or for the sake of mutual benefits. Not to mention, every guy in the circle is all the same anyway. Disrespectful, egotistical, and only show mild interest if the person they’re marrying at least has something to offer that’s related to cold, hard cash in the long run.

It feels like the world just stops spinning when you flutter your eyes upwards and make direct eye contact with him. He enters the front entrance in a full-on black tuxedo, black silk shirt tucked neatly into his pants, chestnut hair rather well-styled, and black dress shoes. The outfit looks like it was made for him, personally tailored to every detail of his body. You almost scowl and look away until you recognize that smile, those midnight orbs.

To your dismay, the Senator’s wife exclaims, “My goodness! I told him not to wear that specific shirt!” before excusing herself from the conversation.

“Uhm is that…”

“Oh yes! That’s their son, Jaemin. Felix used to go to the same kindergarten as him, I believe,” your stepmom explains calmly, watching how you’re slowly becoming interested in the Senator’s only son. So that explains the black Mercedes in front of Jeongin’s apartment. “He got sent to a private school in the UK after graduating from middle school but somehow, I don’t know how he still can’t speak fluently English. Maybe you can help—“

You quickly realize how fast the situation’s escalating and you must say, you’re not letting that happen. “Sorry mom, Jen’s here! I gotta go!” Learning to let Chan go is one thing, but getting yourself into an arranged marriage with another guy who cares about nothing but money is an absolutely torturous idea.

People change, they all do eventually. But sometimes they don’t. Certain things can never fluctuate despite the circumstances. For instance, Kim Jennie still pulls you into a bone-crushing hug like she always does the moment she spots you in the crowd. Her gummy smile didn’t change, her gestures, the way she walks with pride didn’t change and you highly doubt that she no longer sneaks cute boys into the house when her parents are conveniently abroad. But she definitely looks more mature the last time that you guys met in Paris.

“Wow, Jen,” you utter. “You look…good,” Tonight she’s wearing a white dress from Chanel, diamond earrings and bold red lipstick. And don’t even get you started on her ring, you’re pretty sure that it was a present from the brand themselves. She is the ambassador, after all, they would be more than happy to spoil her with their newest collections.

Jennie takes a look at your outfit, twirling you around before breaking into a fit of giggles. “Good? I look good? You look gorgeous! Look at you! Well, actually you look just fine in your PJs as well. Heck, you can even breathe in this thing, I can’t relate,” she beams and keeps on admiring you as if you’re her own life-sized Barbie doll. Baggy clothes can look good, she knows that now.

Jennie clings onto one of your arms and receives a glass of champagne from a waiter, smiling at him softly. “So, how are you enjoying the party, manager Lee?”

You threaten to spill alcohol on her fifteen thousand dollars dress but only proceed to roll your eyes because you value her money too much for the sake of being petty. “It’s kinda meh,” you make a face. “But you know, let’s just get it over with. And to be honest..I’m kind of sick of socializing with people that I don’t even like.”

“Oh really?” Jennie raises a brow curiously when she sees a certain someone in the midst of the chaotic party. “Someone seems to be interested in you though, that cutie over there…” She then motions towards the general direction of Na Jaemin, the person who you’ve been trying to avoid all night. “I think he fancies you. Been eyeing you up and down for the past ten minutes,”

Right, you also forgot that Jennie didn’t know about you and Chan.

“Actually—“

“My God! Did you see that? The Bangs are here!” She gasps and tries to tiptoe in order to get a closer look, allowing her heels to dig into her feet even more. You won’t blame her, the Bangs are basically the biggest developers in Korea. Real estate, investment, tons of things, tons of boring paperwork but you do respect them for what they do. “I heard their eldest son’s dating some up and coming artist, her exhibitions were quite successful, all big hits since last year. It’s mind-blowing!”

You pull your friend back in time when people are shoving each other before her white dress can be contaminated with the bubbly champagne. “Is this the part where I’m supposed to patch your lips together?”

“Damn, he looks fine,” your friend murmurs and has you roll your eyes for one too many times tonight already. “I’m not messing with you, look!” She grabs either side of your face and turns it sideways, towards the front entrance.

You feel like someone just kicked you to the curb and stepped on you, knocking the breath right out of your chest. It’s Chan, it’s really Chan. Navy tuxedo, brown hair styled neatly, he looks even more beautiful than the last time you’ve seen his face. Beside him, hand in hand is another girl. She has the most delicate features and probably the most angelic smile in this world. She’s looking at him all lovingly, the same look you gave him approximately a year ago when you thought that the kiss did mean something to him. Apparently, it didn’t. Now you feel like a paper bag being thrown away, forgotten in the corner, drifting through life like a haze.

Your heart is stuck in your throat, slowly crumbling into dust when you see how he smiles at her, the dimpled smile that you treasured with your entire heart. They look like they are meant to be. And yes, you wanted to see him again but not like this. It’s like karma’s trying to tell you that this is what you get for falling in love with Chan faster than a tick of a clock, for foolishly holding onto false hope. And your butt load of money doesn’t matter anymore because your everything is already being held in someone else’s arms.

Now you’re the one who’s left with a broken heart.

five. In the dead of the night, you no longer feel the sounds of your heart shattering into pieces. Chan’s just making it easier for you to forget him.

“Y/N?” You stay unresponsive at his voice calling out to you. Every cell, every muscle, every neuro inside your body is yelling at you to turn around and throw your arms around his neck. The willpower that you’re mustering to not do that right is impossibly terrifying. But you’re not giving in again, not this time. You won’t be able to piece your heart back together after a second heartbreak. “It’s been quite a while huh? Are you—“

You turn around with glossy eyes, tears threatening to spill any second. Chan’s words get caught dead in his throat upon seeing you on the verge of breaking down. It hurts more knowing that he’s the one who made you cry. “You should have told me..” Your voice cracks and it breaks Chan’s heart into a million pieces at how broken you are. “You should have told me if you wanted to cut it off sooner..” You smile bitterly with tears rolling down on either side of your cheek. You no longer care about how pathetic you may sound or look, you just want to be completely transparent with him.

Another thing that you hate about yourself: how you just let yourself go exposed and vulnerable right in front of his eyes. “What happened to ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder’? Does our kiss that night mean nothing to you? Was I setting the bar too high? Was I…getting in your way?” You ask him between quiet sobs, not bothering to put on a fake smile anymore. You’re too exhausted for that anyway. “You didn’t even tell me..that you’re part of the Bangs family, like the Bangs family. What else are you hiding from me, Chan?”

Chan grabs you by the shoulders to hold you back firmly, eyes boarding into yours fiercely. His touch once made your heart weak, now you feel nothing but disgust when his fingertips graze past your clothed skin. “Y/N, listen to me. You don’t understand— she’s not—“

“Y/N!”

Chan snaps his head towards the owner of the voice and grimaces when he sees Jaemin waving at you from the other side of the room. You gotta be shitting me. Chan then looks over at you in disbelief, eyes almost popping out of their respective sockets. Out of all people, you’re dating Na Jaemin? The Senator’s son? Without letting him know? And you’re accusing him of hiding things from you when you’re also with someone new already? “You know,” you wipe your tears away and look him dead in the eye. “I’ve always thought that all the guys in my dad’s social circle were a bunch of ignorant jerks, but it turns out you’re the asshole.”

With that, you briskly walk away with your phone clutched in your hands, knuckles turning white as you bite down your tears. Chan’s gaze trails after your figure until you’re completely gone, falling into another man’s arms like it’s your safe place. Jaemin caresses your cheekbone and smiles at you. You return it too, bitterly. It was supposed to be Chan who makes you feel like the happiest woman in this world, not the one who takes your heart and crushes it into pieces. His heart breaks, again, and again, and again, and again until he no longer feels its presence beating inside his rib cage. There’s something else more than just distance between the both of you now, something that was never there in the first place. Little did you know, you’re not the only one with a broken heart after all.

“Jaemin right?” You sniffle when he lures you away from the party, away from the chaos, away from Chan. “Thank you, I can manage myself now.”

Jaemin shakes his head and speaks to you softly. “Nonsense. I’m staying here with you. The party sucks, but don’t take it personally.”

You chuckle with teary eyes, but you’ve determined not to cry again tonight, especially not in front of the Senator’s son. “Does my brother know that his tutor is the son of the Senator?” Jaemin shakes his head again, the warm smile never once leaves his lips. He gently wipes a single tear that unknowingly rolls down on your cheek and heat flares through your nostrils, a shade of coral scattered across your face. This is why you never cry in front of a stranger.

“There, there you crybaby,” he comforts you with a hand on your shoulder, the other pulling out a handkerchief to dab your tears away. “Who knows the manager of the Carpe Diem Hotel is such a softie. I heard from the staff that you’re fucking scary when someone gets on your bad side.”

“Then don’t get on my bad side,” you roll your eyes in annoyance. “But God, I really can’t blame them. Our people are so posh, and snobby—“

“We’re basically snoshy,” he finishes your sentence and laughs. “Your brother tells me that all the time, if only he knew about my family. He’s most likely gonna murder me in my sleep.”

You roll your eyes, pushing his hand away slightly. “This is why we’ll never get a happy ending of our own. What’s the point of owning all the dollar bills when we’re just sad motherfuckers? And people wonder why we all prefer one night stands. I fucking beg to differ. Maybe I shouldn’t have kissed him that night. Maybe I was nothing but an instant filler for his non-existent love life. ‘Do you still want my phone number?’ He didn’t even bother texting me anymore! Bullshit!”

Jaemin doesn’t know you very well but by the looks of it, you’re definitely not the type to lash out on someone very often. You must have been furious with that Chan guy because whatever he’s done to you, shit must have stung. Because you still look at him with those eyes. Eyes of those who are madly in love. He can’t change that.

“Y/N,” he pulls you into a hug and rubs little circles on your back as an attempt to soothe your aching heart. “Listen, it’s okay if he’s not the one. He might be the wrong person at the right time for all I know. And your soulmate is probably taking their sweet ass time because they are completely oblivious about your existence. But they will be there for you, they will, I promise. You know damn well how life likes to toss us around right? Love is patient, love is kind. And it will come one day.”

You snicker and hug him back, grateful for how he’s already consoling you although you’ve only met twice. Maybe he isn’t like the other boys in the same circle, maybe he’s different even when he dresses the same and looks the same. “Cliché sayings are cliché for a reason, Jaemin,” you laugh before pulling away, staring into his starry eyes.

“I know I know,” he squishes your cheeks together and chuckles. “But hey, sometimes they’re not wrong either. Tell you what though, I was so close to decking that guy in the face back there but I didn’t want to go all Alpha Apeshit and appeared as a douchebag then get blood on his goddamn Tom Ford. Just throwing that out there in case it does help you feel better.”

You can feel your tear-stained cheeks cool against the night breeze. The balcony seems to be the only place that you can seek calmness in, mainly because there’s no alcohol and no one to push you from one boring conversation to another with the same topics. Your people are basically repeating themselves over and over again about money and arranged marriages which you’re not very interested in so yes, you don’t see the purpose of throwing parties that only consist of the top 1%. You lean your back against the railings and watch the party from afar, letting the background chatters sink in. Soon this whole place will be within your grasp along with many others, but you’re afraid that you’ll be lost in your own empire.

“No offense,” you turn back to him and smile. “I didn’t think you’d be able to throw a punch at all.”

Jaemin makes a face, “I’m not like those wonderbreads over there,” then smirks devilishly. “But I’ll never be one’s knight in shining armor. Life just teaches me things that our people don’t. For example, living in a mansion won’t teach you how to throw or take a proper punch. Also, wear black because you’ll never know whose blood is gonna be on there.”

“So you’re saying that being sent to boarding school is the best thing that’s ever happened in your life?”

“Not quite,” he winks. “The best thing that’s ever happened in my life is to have the pleasure of meeting you.”

You shove his chest and laugh wholeheartedly, it feels nice to talk to someone like this. “Don’t flirt with me and find yourself another trophy out there, I’m too bitchy to fit in with those chicks.” You jerk your head towards the girls who are all dressed up in fancy dresses and heavy jewelry, finding amusement in how they’re all eyeing Jaemin up and down like he’s a prettier version of an ATM. “And also, what do you expect? You have the look, the money, know how to kick someone’s ass. That’s more than what a trophy wife needs.”

Jaemin scratches his neck sheepishly. “I don’t know how to take that but thank you, you look better than all of them honestly. I don’t know why women choose to suffocate themselves in a dress and torment their feet just to attract guys with thick wallets like me. I think I’ll need to settle down sooner or later and I’m not planning on doing that with a brat who only sees how many dollar signs I can afford on Yelp.” He sighs in pure frustration and a puff of cold air escapes his lips.

“Haha very funny, Na Jaemin is adulting like how the Senator’s son should be in his early 20s,” you joke. “And no, I’m not gonna make fun of you for that. You want me to pinpoint where we are right now? Adulthood.”

“No! I’m being serious!”

“Keep telling yourself that, kid.”

“Let me take you on a date and prove it.”

“You’re drunk,” you laugh nervously. But suddenly he inches in closer and your breath hitches in your throat. Nope. He’s dead-ass serious. “You’re being fucking serious, aren’t you?”

Jaemin brings your hand up and presses a small kiss on your knuckles, “See you around, manager Lee.” before sliding away with ease, leaving you blushing so furiously that you almost forgot your heart was broken that night.

six. While you feel like you’re about to have a heart attack because of a date, Kuma - Jennie’s Pomeranian is complaining to you with his eyes about his first world problems aka, Jennie leaving his favorite toy back in New Zealand. “Yes, yes, I get that it’s absolutely unforgivable of her to do that.” You acknowledge and nod absentmindedly, petting him gently. “If anything, I can do you a favor and douse one of her favorite dresses in pickle juice.”

“But also what?” You tilt your head slightly, “She what?! She insulted your favorite tuna bites?! She’s a witch! Burn her!”

“I can’t stand the goddamn smell, that’s all.”Jennie glares at you while hauling her suitcases out of the closet. “You dramatic, bitchy, ungrateful ass.”

“Jen, it’s just a dinner date.”

Jennie dodges your eye roll and proceeds to rummage through one of her ten suitcases, throwing dresses and bodysuits all over the floor. She’s lucky the suite has plenty of extra space or you won’t be able to see the floor in the next fifteen minutes for all you know. Kim Jennie goes ham on picking out clothes for her favorite bitches because not only is she one of the most acclaimed actresses but she’s also a fashion icon, influencer, and Chanel’s one and only darling. Hence, knowing that you’re going on a date with the dress code: formal; she freaked out and dragged you all the way from your house to the hotel that she’s staying in.

You facepalm yourself onto the extra king-size bed and sighs into the soft blanket. Yeah, that’s how rich the Kims are. Not king-size, but extra king-size that can fit at least four people but still have extra leg space. You know where to have your girls’ night this weekend now because you’d rather not have Ryujin whip your ass for bringing friends over.

Your groan grows louder when you keep hearing Jennie repeats “I’m a genius, a fucking genius!” to herself over and over again until she stops. And that’s when you decide to push yourself off the bed carefully to not wrinkle your clothes. “Look at this baby!” She holds up a long, bedazzled gown with spaghetti straps. Gives you a very 70s vibe but you’re not mad at it, you think you might be able to pull it off. “Listen, if you don’t look good in this, I’ll call Chanel and drop it as a flop, got it?”

Wow, Chanel is hanging on the edge of flopping by a strand of hair just because of you. The pressure’s on.

Jennie shoves you into the ridiculous-sized bathroom with marble floor and all, she’s definitely not letting you wear one of your blazers today. “Knock knock,” she impatiently leans against the door after what seems like ten minutes. But all Jennie’s met with is dead silence, she’s starting to get worried now. “Y/N, you good?”

You barge out of the bathroom with a panicked expression, shrieking. “Kim Jennie what were you thinking?!” When she gives you a what-do-you-mean look, you mentally groan to yourself and are kind of ready to call the date off. You’re not going out looking like this. “It’s 64 degrees outside and you’re making me wear this?!” You do a full 360 turn to only to show her the awfully low cut on the back of the dress, and she immediately claps happily like a seal. God, what is wrong with your friend?

“Stunning! Absolutely stunning!” Jennie nods to herself like the evil mad mind genius that she is. “You’re pretty tolerant, so I think it’s not gonna be a problem.”

“Do I have a say in this?” You eye her in defeat when she helps you on a dainty necklace and a pair of silver earrings.

Jennie puts her hands on her hips and almost laughs, admiring you like a piece of art, a creation that she will forever keep in her heart. “What makes you think so?” And off to the date, you go.

Jaemin picks you up not long after, wearing a full-on white suit in his black Mercedes. It’s not hard to guess that it’s his favorite. Since the party from last week, both of you have been texting and FaceTiming non-stop, it almost feels like he’s making up for the lost time that Chan’s wasted. For the Senator’s son, he’s surprisingly approachable, very quirky but charming at the same time. Jaemin does give an effort to make you laugh every time he sends you the same memes over and over again. Hey, it’s not your fault his humor is impeccable.

But being one of the Elite, you can’t blame him for wanting to do it the old-fashioned way. Fancy restaurant, having waiters drape white napkins over your lap, cheesy classical music in the background and the typical candles to set the romantic atmosphere. The place is quite busy too, some ladies in their forties are wheezing in helpless laughter as a waitress secretly shoots them dirty looks while a group of businessmen is eating in silence, an old couple is feeding each other in the corner and a younger couple that you don’t really pay attention to since they’re too far away. Sometimes you wonder what that feels like, to have someone by your side forever.

Maybe forever is just not meant for you.

Forever might not be for you, but going on a date feels like a fresh breeze passing by after so much pain and agony. Jaemin always tries to make you feel as comfortable as possible but still manages to make you laugh until your stomach hurts and tears are evident in the corners of your eyes. He’s not one of those guys who’s not used to hearing the word ‘no’ and never pushes your boundaries. But the feeling’s not there, it’s just not there at all and you wish that it was. You can’t play along then end up breaking his heart later on. No one deserves going through that, not even the ones who lost your trust.

“Okay..” Jaemin peels his eyes away from his crème brûlée’s when you set your fork down. “Just to be clear, I don’t hate you but I would never date you.” And he immediately chokes on his big bite, coughing furiously into the white napkin. You’re very straight to the point, he appreciates that, but still, ouch.

“Tell me three valid reasons why I should stop going after your heart.”

“One, I don’t wanna break your heart. Two, I don’t want you to break mine. And three, I just threw it in the trash.”

Jaemin rolls his eyes rather dramatically, holding back a lighthearted chuckle. “So what? You got your heart broken by some bastard and now you’re gonna distance yourself from everything that’s related to ‘love’? Do you really want to spend the rest of your life like this? Alone? In your giant mansion with your butt load of money?”

“Yes,” you nod without hesitation, trying to ignore the bitter feeling that’s rising in your throat. “And technically I can adopt as many puppies as I want to.”

“Fair enough,” he sighs and moves a bit to the side. “There’s your man, twelve o’clock.”

You feel like you would personally gouge your eyes out of the sockets the moment they land on Chan and his current girlfriend at the opposite table if you weren’t sane enough for a Michelin-rated restaurant. They’re both wearing black, laughing and talking with each other like they’re the only beings left in this world. You wonder if fate could be a bit more generous to you, just a little bit, then would you be there with Chan instead? You’ve told yourself one too many times not to dwell on the past but like always, you never learn. And you know that you’re dumb but you still don’t get why fate forces two people to meet each other knowing damn well that one of them is gonna leave the other behind.

But this time when you look more closely, his smile looks somewhat forced and the dark circles under his eyes have been darkened by time. He looks so tired and drained but still keeps up the smile for his date. A pang of guilt hits you hard when you realize that you should have listened to what he had to say at the party. He doesn’t look happy, that’s what ticks you off.

Chan subconsciously flickers his eyes upwards and meets yours, completely frozen in his spot like a statue. His smile falters, eyes going wide from surprise, utterly, undeniably speechless. It’s not easy to read what’s going on in his mind but you’re positive that he doesn’t seem to expect to see you in this kind of situation. He quickly averts his gaze back onto the other girl, laughing nervously so that she won’t turn around and accidentally see you. Your heart unknowingly sinks to the pit of your stomach.

“It shouldn’t be like this,” you never knew that you’ve been crying until Jaemin gently wipes your tears away with his handkerchief, his eyes softening at your sobbing form. “But it is what it is.”

seven. Chan quickly calls in a cab for his date after sliding his credit card across the counter. He grimaces slightly when she presses a goodbye kiss on his cheek, and then waves her off when she enters the taxi. After receiving his bill, Chan pushes himself through the busy waiters and waitresses, mumbling small “sorry” along the way until his feet lead him to the long flight of stairs.

And he sees you standing there with your back against him, fiddling with your fingers nervously. He knows you’ve never been good at hiding how awkward you are so it gives him a tiny bit of hope when he finds out he still has this kind of effect on you. But when he takes a few more steps forwards, his jaw almost drops to the floor when he can finally get a closer look at your dress.

Chan’s never seen you in a dress before, but he believes that you have the ability to pull off anything. He’s not wrong after all. The dress hugs your figure perfectly and in the most flattering way, leaving him in complete awe. But you’d never choose a dress, even when it’s a formal dinner. Goddamn, that kid is one lucky son of a bitch, he mentally curses.

You meet Chan once again on a balcony, but tonight you’re met with a sky without stars. It seems like they can’t even muster the courage to see where this conversation is gonna go.

“What’s her name?” You ask breathlessly, still not willing to make direct eye contact with him.

Chan inhales deeply, and exhales, “Her name is Eunji. Apparently, our families had an agreement that we’re gonna be engaged once we reached a certain age. I’m so sorry for shutting you out without a proper explanation, I really am. I’m such an asshole.”

You finally can look at him without getting all teary-eyed, your lips trembling. “It’s alright,” then you quickly look away to avoid any awkwardness. “You guys look good together, I’m happy for you both.” And when Chan doesn’t say anything, you decide to ask him softly. “But are you?”

He buries his face into the palms of his hands and sighs heavily. “I- I don’t know, I just don’t want to let them down. And I tried so hard to tell them that I already had someone else but I’m just scared that—“

“That they won’t accept me because you didn’t know that I do in fact, make cold, hard cash?” You stare deeply into the distance and laugh humorlessly. “After all those years, I had no idea, no fucking idea that you were Christopher Bang, like the Christopher Bang, the one who’s supposed to take over the family’s business, the most eligible bachelor in the country.”

Chan grabs you by the shoulders, catching you off guard when your noses are barely touching, his warm breath fanning your face. “Speak for yourself. You’ve never even told me that you were Felix’s stepsister. All those years of college, and I only know that you’re the manager of the Carpe Diem Hotel now. And why are you dating the Senator’s son again? Last time I checked, you’re still leaving me messages even when I went MIA or put the phone on silent all the time.”

“I can date whoever I want to,” you try to shove his arms away but his grip only gets tighter. “And no shit, you know I’m not into guys like that. We’re not dating, he offered me dinner after seeing me so miserable at the party.”

And you quickly assert with a fake smile. “But that’s not the point, is it? Let me guess, if I were not some daughter of the CEO of the biggest hotel chain in the country, then you would never tell your parents about me, would you? You’d rather marry Eunji so that your grandparents won’t potentially disown you instead.”

Chan shakes his head profusely because he could never, would never, can never, and will never trade you for anything else in this world. “No, you don’t understand- I- just- just give me some time and-“ He loves you too much to the point that his heart bleeds a bit whenever you catch his gaze from across the table and return to your conversation with Jaemin, giggling and laughing at his lame jokes like nothing’s ever happened. But his biggest problem here, is how can he convey his love to you once again when you’ve already despised him with every single cell inside your body?

You narrow your eyes at him, slightly amused by how he’s stuttering. “And?”

“Let me make it up to you,” he tells you after running a hand through his brown locks. “Come with my family on a cruise trip next month in Singapore. I’ll prove myself to you and do everything in my power to get your trust back. Even if things can never be the same again. I can’t lose you, I won’t let you go this time. Bring whoever as your plus-one, just not that kid…I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

“How are you so sure that you’re not gonna break my heart again?”

Chan says breathlessly and goosebumps automatically bubble up on your skin at his words, “I’m not. Because I know that no matter how many times I stupidly, or impulsively hurt you, you will always stay. And I’ll always be there to gather the broken pieces as if you’ve never felt the pain before.”

A long, muffled silence occurs between both of you. You quickly look away after a good ten seconds of making eye contact with Chan. He’s having that kind of effect on you like how he used to and you’re determined not to fall again. You’d hate to have your heart broken twice by the same person. “You do know that we wouldn’t have worked out anyway right?”

Chan doesn’t say anything, instead, he turns around and calls a ride for you. His eyes look stormy that night, impossible to read as if there are so many things on his mind at the same time to the point that his head becomes cloudy and nothing makes sense anymore. He doesn’t even wave you goodbye when you get inside the car but his gaze never leaves your figure until it’s completely gone in the distance.

You know that it’s something more than just love because your feelings for Chan are still there even when he’s not. You’re just far too busy being depressed inside your bedroom, under your fuzzy blanket to notice them. Now they’re back, again, for the third time, much, much stronger and more powerful. You don’t know whether this is hazing because falling for someone more than twice just sounds unhealthy for you, a person who lives off donuts for two weeks straight because you need the push of the sugar crush in order to avoid caffeine. Chan just stepped into your life like how he did about three hundred and sixty-five days ago and completely broke down the fort you were trying to build.

Call you an idiot, but is it bad to think that he’s not planning on leaving any time soon?

eight. You hate cruises for plenty of reasons, and one of them being, not surprisingly, a cruise is basically a hotel on water. The concept of a hotel floating on the water makes it a trillion times cooler and unnecessarily overrated. In your defense, having a massage or partying ‘til dawn while not knowing when you’re gonna drown to your imminent death is petrifying. Maybe you’re just bitter about the fact that people don’t appreciate normal hotels enough, because they really don’t.

Okay, if you have to choose one thing not to hate on a cruise, then it’s probably the mini theatre that Chan personally demanded for his chaotic group of friends. Hey, privileged people need some wholesome, chill times with friends too.

But the fact that almost everyone has already seen Stranger Things makes you feel more like a grandma than you already are. These are the times where you rarely choose to sit next to Jisung because you’re both on the same boat for once. Other times, you’re just bickering like the reincarnations of every movie where the main characters constantly want to put the other’s head on a chopping block but end up falling in love anyway; except, you will never fall in love with Jisung. That’s so creepy on so many levels.

Creepier than whatever the fuck of a demonic image that Hyunjin’s about to show you, being the pest that he is. “We have four votes for Stranger Things and four votes for Spider-Man: Far from home,” he announces in that irritating voice of his while hogging the whole bowl of popcorn to himself. “So what’s it gonna be, Han? Choose wisely, my friend,”

Jisung sips on his Coke and points his index finger at his roommate as if he’s accusing Hyunjin of murdering someone, “I’m with Y/N, because screw you,” he’s not entirely wrong because, without a doubt, Jisung’s soul is gonna detach itself from his body after the first episode. “And if Chan were here, he’d agree with me,”

“Nope,” Chan conveniently steps in when you’re about to do a fist bump with Jisung, taking the seat on your right despite plenty of other (about twenty-six) empty seats. “We’re watching Stranger Things, it’s been almost thirty minutes and all you guys have been doing is aiming at each other’s throat,” he whips out a small remote from his pocket and clicks the ‘play’ button without anyone’s consent. He has no right to do that! You don’t think you’ll ever forgive him after this.

Chill time isn’t so wholesome anymore.

So basically the whole plot is about a boy going missing, flipping a whole town from Indiana upside down. Everyone spends days and nights, desperately trying to find him until one day, a little girl with a shaved head comes into the story and makes the entirety of the movie that much weirder. And more horror-worthy when she’s being chased by ‘bad guys’. This is another reason why you hate Chan: he can’t be bothered about what he’s watching because he’s only here for good food. And probably your suffering. But mostly just good food.

Actually, it might be the other one because you can clearly see that stupid grin on his face when you pull your hood low enough to cover half of your eyes so that you won’t be potentially haunted at night by whatever’s ready to pop on screen. And Jisung’s already clinging onto one of your arms like his life depends on it, legs quivering in his boots. You really don’t wanna accidentally elbow him in the face when there’s an inevitable jump scare.

“Chan, you sadist, I hope you’re happy for doing this to me,” you sneer at him with gritted teeth, frustrated about the fact that you can’t singlehandedly feed him to the sharks.

Chan leans in slyly, lips dangerously close to your ear. “That’s for you ogling Tom Holland,”

Jisung automatically gasps scandalously, once again opening that useless mouth of his and decides to put you on trial. “A compromise was almost made, Y/N you monster!” (Actually no, he’d never survive law school). Jisung wiggles himself out of his seat faster than a lightning bolt and snuggles closely next to Woojin, who’s staring at the screen like someone’s forcing him to watch one of the worst pantomimes to ever exist. Great, now you’re stuck with Chan in the very front seat, having no choice to hold onto him like he’s your last option before falling into your impending misery in the next sixty minutes.

This asshole is really—

The moment you’re ready to pour a paper cup full of Sprite over his head, Jisung and Hyunjin just happen to whimper and yelp at the same time, with the same amount of awfully loud volume, spilling their own endless string of curse words with the same length while holding onto whoever’s lucky enough to sit next to them. So naturally, you stupidly let your guard down and cower like a child watching Snow White for the very first time and being absolutely terrified of the ugly witch. You’re far too busy thinking of ways to bury Hyunjin alive to realize that you’ve unknowingly pulled yourself closer to Chan and hid your face in his chest.

“Hwang Hyunjin you fucking moron!” Jisung yells at the top of his lungs when another demonic scene occurs, sending actual chills down his spine. He almost misses the feeling of still having a vendetta with his friend back in the good old high school days when they’re still wrestling each other every two minutes. Also, you’ve never felt this bad for Jisung (or even related to him) in a fairly long time, because… same.

Hyunjin can officially kiss your Jeep goodbye because you’ll never let him borrow it again. That idiot.

“You’re such a baby,” Chan comments and purposely cuts off your trains of thoughts so that you can peel yourself off him and look straight into the screen again, at the wrong time.

“I’m not your baby—“

You hiss in panic and throw yourself onto him again, trying to calm yourself by listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat and persistent pace of breathing. You’re already mentally apologizing to Jennie because you’re 75% sure that she’s not gonna be able to sleep with you sticking to her side like a jellyfish. There was this one time you all watched The Conjuring because Jisoo insisted so much and except for her and Lisa, no one got a wink of sleep that night so you’re not sure how you’re gonna survive this when there’s no pillow or blanket to protect you from all of the horrifying sound effects and imageries.

Chan secretly bumps his fist with Jeongin in the back, who’s a little bit too occupied with Hyunjin crushing his bones every two seconds. The perks of hitting on a friend’s sister. Works like a charm, he smirks internally. “Little Y/N is scared, how precious,” he looks down at you, and a smile blooms on his lips, enjoying the blissful feeling of having you in his embrace again.

“I am not scared!” You still can’t learn to accept that sometimes, admitting to your defeat is better for your own good.

“Then why won’t you look at the screen then?”

“Because- oh my God, what the hell was that?!”

“It’s okay to admit that you’re scared, I can protect you,” Chan boasts with his chin high up. And you’d love to blush at his affectionate words right now, really. Only if he didn’t quickly jump into conclusion because of your crush on Tom Holland and chose the movie in the span of a split second.

“Christopher, this isn’t funny!”

“Well, I certainly didn’t try to insult you in any means at all, ma’am. I don’t see what’s the problem here,” he singsongs, gently draping an arm around your shoulders. This time, he’s glad that you didn’t end up punching him in the gut.

“Shut the fuck— Jesus Christ!” You screech when the demonic image keeps flashing in your mind, driving your head around in circles. “Chan, I swear to God, you’ll regret—“ you don’t even bother to finish your sentence and have no choice to hold onto him like he’s your only source of life, without him, you’ll soon disintegrate into fine dust and slip away easily. If Lisa was here, she would record the whole thing and play it on the slideshow of videos that she’s been preparing for your upcoming birthday. Thank God she’s playing beer pong with BamBam somewhere on the second floor.

That sounds so melodramatic but it’s not necessarily wrong. Chan still has that same sense of comfort whenever your skin comes in contact with his, even when it’s a thin layer of fabric away, you can still feel how badly it burns like a reminder for you that he’s here and he’s not going anywhere. Nothing’s going to change that, your intuition has told you before but you elect to ignore it. You’re starting to realize that you let Chan into your life again just like that, let him tear down your walls, and lit your heart on fire.

But what you don’t know is that his heart is still beating vigorously in his chest cavity for you, after all this time. His one and only.

“Hey, hey,” he tells you softly.

“What? Don’t make me look, I don’t wanna see it, I don’t wanna hear it either, I’m scared okay just don’t—”

“No, Y/N, look at me,” Chan chuckles and takes your face in his hands, forcing you to stare into his starry eyes. All you can see is an entire cosmos, more wondrous and beautiful than everything you’ve ever seen. He shines like he owns the entire universe in his existence, glowing from within and leaves you utterly speechless. Your head starts to become fuzzy and your heart dips when you realize how terribly close you are to him.

Chan takes your head and gently places it on the left side of his chest, smiling. “Can you hear that? It’s your fault, yeah, you did that to me,” The calm rhythm of his heart cancels everything out; all you can see is him, and all you can hear is his heartbeat. You spend approximately one second debating whether you should kiss him and you hate every moment of that one single second, you dread every nanosecond of it.

“Are you still afraid?” He whispers and you shake your head almost immediately without replying with what’s in your head. Like no shit, you’re more than just petrified right now, this is by far, one of the scariest, most frightening, and most nerve-racking decisions you’ve ever made in your life.

At that moment, it feels as if you’re standing on the edge of a cliff with him by your side. And you do exactly what he’s asking you to because it’s the only thing that you can do.

You jump.

nine. Weirdly enough, you miss college.

You miss those days where you had to finish the entirety of your morning routine in a span of five minutes so that you could be out the door and not miss the bus. You miss those moments where you had to skip two steps at a time on the longass flight of stairs just so your professor wouldn’t have another excuse to yell at you other than the overdue assignments.

You also miss college parties, not because they’re ‘lit’ but because things were simpler back then. People come, drink, get wasted, fight someone (or make out with someone), and then go home. Actually, no, they usually make out first thing first in the front porch because college students don’t give two fucks about their dignity and decency. You definitely didn’t miss that. And also those times where you ogled Chan during lunch breaks or when you both took the usual 4419 to college on a daily basis.

Everything gets a little more nostalgic when Minho slides your usual mojito across the counter and gives you that cat-like smile of his. Somehow, it makes you wanna hug him and bite his head off at the same time but you’re not wasted enough for that yet. You just need to get your mind off Chan when he’s too busy being tormented by his own family.

“Zero sips and you’re already dreaming about Chan? Gee, if I’m not mistaken then you’re so in love with him, manager Lee,” Minho is in his element, surrounded by good music and alcohol. In which, there’s no point in arguing with him anyway because you’re basically vulnerable and defenseless when everywhere you go, you see Chan’s face.

You down half of the mojito in one go and the bartender in front of you almost staggers backward from utter shock. Normally, you’d be snapping back at him with a witty retort instead of being all sappy and dreamy like this. This is not good. “My my, you’re really thinking about him, aren’t you? So tell me, how does that feel? To be deeply in love with another human being,” he leans forward to approach you, propping his head up with his hands. You murmur a small “bullshit” and proceed to toss your head back for a bit, shaking the weariness away.

“Listen, I might be heartless and all but when I accidentally put Tabasco into Jisung’s orange juice instead of honey the other day, I did actually feel bad about it. I felt a rush of empathy for a split second there,” Minho muses when he sees the corners of your lips curl upwards, stretching into a small grin. “It was wild, and then I just thought; is this what it feels like…to be a decent human being? Edgy, I know.”

You laugh dryly with boredom glinting in your eyes. “You know, if you’re going to distract me from thinking about Chan, at least be good at it,” his mouth drops open at your statement, completely gobsmacked. Oh, how the tables have turned. He’s never felt so defeated and useless before. Usually, he’s the one who makes others speechless. It’s not hard to tell that he hates it when everything just flips upside down.

“Bitch please,” Minho says with puckered lips. “Even if I spiked your drink, you’d still repeat his name in your dream like a mantra because you’re so fucking whipped for him,” he stops for a while to train his undivided attention on the Tequila Sunrise for Jisung who’s already smashed after two beers. He can really use some counseling, Minho ponders. “And you wouldn’t kiss Chan back if you hated him, gotta love stupid feelings that you can’t even explain for yourself, am I right?”

You take another sip of your drink and exhale, staring into his sharp eyes. “Excuse me, who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Lee Minho, genius, dancer, fashion icon by day, party animal by night, personal counselor,” he holds back the urge to slap you across the face with Felix’s Gucci slippers and instead, musters the sweetest smile. Being a bartender and a potential alcoholic at the same time definitely doesn’t help because he wishes he could just chug a whole bottle of vodka before you complain to him about your miserable love life. “I believe I’m qualified enough to give you some solid advice. So shut up and listen to me—“

“—I’m trying! But Minho, what if I’m the delusional one? What if he just wanted a fresh start so that we wouldn’t be so awkward towards each other? A kiss can’t possibly mean something. I mean, if you consider our New Year’s kiss, it meant so much to me but I don’t know if—“

And now, Lee Minho, self-proclaimed, genius, dancer, fashion icon by day, party animal by night, personal counselor; doesn’t have the slightest earthly idea of what the hell he should do. God, serious relationships are so fucking complicated to the point that his brain is yelling for retirement. Usually, he just poisons his friends with a dose of some common sense and solid logic to knock them back to reality in order to figure out whatever they’re going through. But this time, he thinks he should just let you fall further and further until Chan catches you instead.

Now that he’s thinking about it. Chan definitely didn’t pay him enough to be the bartender and a personal therapist for the love of his life.

“Seems like you’re not enjoying the party,” you instantly turn around because you can realize the owner of the voice in the matter of a split second. The moment Chan’s eyes are locked with yours, your heart immediately jumps up to your throat and then drops back down to your chest. If only this was because of the mojito, you’d feel better about it somehow but unfortunately, Minho gave you a non-alcoholic one today.

You can tell that he’s already hammered by the smell of alcohol when his warm breath brushes over your nose and how his cheeks are redder than usual. Minho quickly excuses himself from the scene to save himself from witnessing a mediocre, drunk confession session. And also because people are starting to pour in by the second, so the bar will probably be overpopulated in the next ten minutes or so. It’s downright a college party again except for the fact that everyone is floating on water but still, alcohol-thirsty pigs are still pigs. Everyone’s sloppy and lightheaded to the point that you’re already hearing the janitors crying themselves to sleep tonight.

“I’m enjoying it more than you if you couldn’t tell already,” your face morphs into a frown when Chan giggles and stumbles around like a madman. He would have facepalmed himself onto the marble counter with various bottles that probably cost more than one of his cars combined and made a scene if it weren’t for your hands steadying the blades of his shoulders. The warmth of your fingers radiate through his denim jacket and sinks into his skin, making his head a little fuzzy while you’re wondering how the fuck did he get this batshit drunk when Minho was with you the whole time.

“What the hell did you have?”

“I don’t know, BamBam asked me to try out some of his new cocktail recipes,” Chan hiccups and allows you to fling one of his arms over your shoulders. “Guess I didn’t consider dinner with my family afterward. Mom said I should just get some rest but I was thinking of you, so voila, I’m here now,” he gives you that signature boyish grin of his that never fails to make your heart skip a beat. But this time, your frown just grows deeper because since when did BamBam know how to make cocktails? And almost knocked Chan out too? You know why you should just stick to Minho’s mojito now.

Your eyes widen in panic as Chan almost trips over your foot when Hyunjin accidentally bumps into his back. “Oh Y/N, I’ve been looking for you,” the younger boy tells you with a Margarita in his hand, curiosity laced in his eyes. “No, scratch that, actually, some guy called Jaemin is looking for you,” Hyunjin then leans closer to a very-shocked-looking you and tries to shout over the loud music. “Who is that guy anyway? I heard rumors going around that he’s the Senator’s son or—“

Even though Chan’s not very sober at the moment and all he can hear is “some guy” and “the Senator’s son”, he knows that he needs to get you out of here as soon as possible. That bastard, Chan thought he’s already eliminated him from the guest list. Without a second thought, he grabs you by the waist and pulls you away from Hyunjin although he’s not the real threat here, piloting you through the sweaty bodies grinding against each other to the EDM music in the background. He was gonna take up the DJ duty tonight but really…is he gonna let you have another encounter with Na Jaemin? Yeah, he thought so too.

Before you can even register the whole situation, Chan’s already backed you up against a wall in his bedroom, a hand over your mouth with the other on the small of your back. Time seems to stop when you see the golden flecks in his eyes, floating softly in his nebula, and you’re absolutely, definitely, totally falling for him all over again. He’s so incredibly beautiful it leaves you moonstruck, wondering how can God be so unfair to make Chan look better than you even when he’s wasted.

Everything starts moving once again when a series of “have you seen Y/N?” echoes through the hallway and you can physically feel Chan tighten his grip on your body, jaw clenching too much that it might hurt. You know that voice all too well; Na Jaemin is here. And he’s looking for you. But you can care less right now because your heart automatically does a flip when Chan makes direct eye contact with you, his index finger hovering over his lips.

“Y/N, I need to tell–“

But this is not the time to fawn over how good he looks, you tell yourself with such determination.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” you help Chan walk over to his king-size bed, his limbs wobbly and unstable. After a solid minute of struggling and panting, you finally have Chan laying on the bed, legs dangling off the edge. While you’re too busy unfolding his blanket, he’s murmuring gibberish that you can’t quite, choosing to ignore it like how you’ve ignored Woojin snoring at two in the morning during a camping trip. “Chan,” you shake his shoulders slightly. “You’re gonna fall flat on your face if you sleep like this,”

You hiss through gritted teeth helplessly. “Chan!” But he doesn’t even move a single muscle. “You idiot, why did you agree to drink all of those cocktails?” You’re going to rip BamBam’s head off of his neck next time with your bare hands, it’s on. “Chan!” Your last attempt of waking him up fails miserably when he scrunches his nose a little, then proceeds to move on with his slumber.

Yeah, he’s definitely gone.

Or not.

Just when you’re about to give up and leave him as he is, Chan grabs you by the wrist and pulls you flush against his chest, heart thundering more vigorously than ever. He easily rolls the both of you to the side with no effort, only to get a better grip of your waist, his breath tickling your nose. At the suddenly close proximity, you can take a closer look at his long lashes that framed his eyes perfectly, his tall nose and his plump lips. Chan looks so ethereal and otherworldly that you wonder what it feels like to run your hands through his hair, dance your fingers against his jawline and press your lips against his.

But you also notice the bags under his eyes and how his brows are slightly knitted together. He doesn’t seem to be doing a great job at taking care of himself after all and it makes your heartache knowing that he didn’t have any other choice. It’s no one’s fault, really, though, in scenarios like this, people would love to point fingers and make assumptions out of something that they don’t even know. Falling in love with Chan for the third time can be the best thing that’s ever happened to you or it will eventually push you off a cliff, straight into a downward spiral.

Whatever the consequences are, you’d never trade him for anything in this world. Even if it means getting your heart broken all over again. You’re willing to walk through fire and step on thorns just to be by his side again. But at the same time, you’re not sure if he feels the same because if not, you’ll be left with nothing. Maybe he’ll forget all of this in the morning. Maybe it’s never meant to happen anyway.

Chan suddenly pulls you in more and his lips are terribly close to your flesh, your eyes going wide in panic. Moments later, soft snores escape his mouth as his chest heaves up and down in a calm rhythm. It reminds you of when he hugs you in the theatre, embarrassment soon flares through your nostrils and sprinkle a shade of coral on the apples of your cheeks. You can’t help but smile, arms snaking around his firm waistline.

Chan hugs you so tightly that you blindly believe that he needs you. As if it’s his way of saying “stay, it makes me feel at ease that you’re right here, in my arms again”. No one has ever really needed you. As sad as it sounds, your family can still move on with life just fine even when you’re not there. Your friends have their own jobs and other relationships as well, they don’t actually need you. You’ve never felt anything quite like this before, it’s a little bit frightening but also a little bit tempting.

Yep, you think to yourself. I’m done for.

Goddamnit BamBam.

ten. Chan groans loudly when the early daylight hits him like a truck, knocking him out of his semi-unconscious state. Hangovers still hit him hard, but this time, shit hurts way worse because someone still has a lot to learn as a mixologist. He smells like alcohol, probably looks like trash, and his head is fuzzy yet [insert culprit’s name] is standing right in front of him, all dressed up like he’s about to do a drug transaction.

“Bro,” he narrows his eyes to do a full scan of the bedroom, plopping himself back down only to realize that you’re not here. “You fucking suck at making cocktails,”

BamBam only chuckles humorlessly at that, five of his drinks didn’t even put a dent on Changbin yet the infamous Bang Chan wasn’t able to stay sober to not have a girl carry him to his bedroom. “Drink,” he gives the glass of water in his hand a light thrust before handing Chan a tablet of aspirin with the other. He’s also decided that it’s a lovely Sunday morning and he doesn’t have time for this shit. He should be chomping on breakfast in bed with something on the TV right now. But, he can’t risk having Chan roam the cruise looking all homeless and insane.

“I can’t believe not only did you let Y/N into your room, slept in the same bed as her,” Chan chokes on the big gulp of water that he’s just taken, and everything from last night starts pouring back to him like an unwanted nightmare. He was far too drunk to even remember every detail, he just prays to whatever gods up there that he didn’t say anything stupid. “Yet you didn’t even confess, great fucking job.” BamBam asserts like the true friend that he is, accidentally pushing Chan closer to his imminent misery.

Chan snaps his head up and almost screams aloud that his heart’s about to jump out of his chest, “You wanted me to what?!”

“You heard me,” BamBam tongues the inside of his cheeks in annoyance, regretting the amount of money that he spent to tip one of the cruise’s staff so that he could sneak his own alcohol in safely. “You know what that means? That means you still didn’t shoot your shot! You did not shoot your shot! Which entails? You’re gonna be lonely for the rest of your life and eventually die alone. You’re gonna die alone! You hear me?”

Chan thinks it’s way too early for him to endure BamBam repeating himself over and over again like a crazy person. He might still be slightly hammered because all he’s hearing is “shoot your shot” and “die alone”, he’s confused because why in the world is his best friend making him choose between killing someone and dying alone? Wait, no, actually….he might mean something else. Chan’s just in denial.

“Where is she?” He rasps out tiredly after taking the pill and downs the whole glass of water.

“Lisa carried her back to Jennie’s room in the middle of the night,” BamBam informs his friend, watching how his eyes are starting to turn stormy, and then he exhales out of relief. “She almost murdered me! This is all your fault!” He cries out dramatically before belly-flopping himself onto Chan’s bed, metaphoric tears dripping down on his cheek.

Chan perks an eyebrow as if BamBam just offended him, as if he’s mental and just made it out of an insane asylum. “My fault?” He questions, his voice getting louder and louder at the end. “Whose idea was it to poison me with your questionable drinks? Whose idea was it to make me all batshit drunk? Whose idea was it to let me into the party so that I could find the only thing that I’ve been trying to avoid all night? It was your fault, okay?! It-was-your-fault!” He deadpans and soon realizes that now he’s the one who’s repeating himself.

BamBam is more than confused right now because didn’t Chan want this after all? To confess to you once again and get you back? All he was trying to do is basically give his friend a teeny tiny sprinkle of motivation and this is how he repays him? Now he looks like an idiot who has been trying to sabotage the relationship between the two protagonists of another horrible rom-com. Jackson was right, he should have just played ping pong in peace and not stick his nose into other people’s business.

“Look,” he places a hand on Chan’s shoulder as he sighs deeply into the palms of his hands, mentally debating how the fuck can he make it up to you now. “She could have just refused your invitation of stepping onto this cruise. She could have pushed you away when you tried to kiss her,” BamBam stops midway to suppress his laughter at how Chan’s cheeks are taking no time to turn into a brighter shade of pink. “And, she could have left you alone and drunk at the bar, and- I don’t know, hang out with Na Jaemin or something.”

When a muffled silence descends in between the current civil conversation, only a confused look crosses Chan’s features and all BamBam wants to do right now is to put his head through a goddamn wall. “Jesus fucking Christ…” he murmurs to himself. “Minho’s right. You both are so dumb it’s physically hurting me.” Not exactly the most comforting words to tell a person in crisis but things hitting hard like this actually helps Chan a lot more than how people usually sugarcoat their words.

“Listen, it’s not like there’s no more fish in the sea but have you ever met someone who instantly clicked and just simply fell for you? She didn’t know that you had money, she didn’t know anything about your family. She could care less about your social background too honestly, because she fell for who you truly are,” BamBam hates to be cliché, really, but it is what it is. “Y/N has never gone a day without checking your notifications, she was so broken when you suddenly just shut her out like that. And yes, you were an asshole for doing that but can’t you see how hesitant she was every time you’re trying to get closer?”

Chan looks up at his friend, his tense muscles finally relaxing. “Which isn’t the point…”

“Which isn’t the point,” BamBam tells him, looking more serious than ever and it’s freaking him out. “Because what I’m trying to say is, it’s still not too late to shoot your shot.”

eleven. Maybe you deserve someone else, but deep down, you’ve always wanted Chan. And in your heart, you know that it’s right because humans only want the love they thought they deserved. You think part of the reason why you can never seem to let go of him is you’re just scared that something so amazing won’t happen twice. People might call you out for dwelling on the past but you call it a coping mechanism.

Magically, you’re starting to get used to the frequent encounters with Chan and Eunji since they’re also apparently part of the Privileged. You really should give yourself a pat on your shoulder for not having a mental breakdown whenever you see them hand in hand in public. The forced smile on Chan’s face always gives you the tiniest strand of hope that he’s just putting on a show as demand from his family. But at the same time, you’re scared that you’re just being delusional and you’d never have anything to do with his life from now on. Perhaps he wanted a fresh start so that everything can be like how they used to back in college? He didn’t want to “lose you again” because he still wanted to be friends?

But every time he tried to sneak a glance towards your direction and smiled, all you could think was: “Oh, shit,”

You knew that you fell for him twice, and you’re still falling. Every. Single. Day.

“Like what you see?” Changbin brags on the other side of the curtain, followed by a string of gagging noises by Jisung. And you secretly want to take a picture of his face, for science, obviously. But by that, you mean to blackmail him whenever wherever you want because he’d rather not have his fans gushing over him looking like a dying donkey, inside a fifteen thousand dollars suite on a cruise.

“You look like an idiot.”

Jisung voices with pure disgust in his tone. “Who the fuck lend you a white tuxedo?” Needless to say, you try to picture Changbin wearing a white suit and you immediately scrunch your nose up, shaking your head profusely. Changbin looks especially good in dark colors, but you’re not saying that he wouldn’t look good in brighter tones, it just feels weird not seeing him in a black tux, even when it’s just for a small party.

“My sister! If anything she’s an idiot,” he’s probably throwing his hands up in frustration. “She said I should switch things up. And I trusted her, now I feel like an idiot.”

Jisung asserts like a snake, “You look like you have a stick up in your ass, it’s so high up I can literally see it whenever you’re opening your mouth.” He’s probably man-spreading on the blue velvet couch, playing with the glass of bubbly champagne that he’s specifically requested. You don’t get why he would want to drink when he’s waiting for his friends in the dressing room but he will, just because he can.

“Ew,” he spats not long after. You’re not sure if he’s referring to the drink or Changbin’s outfit. It might be the drink, it’s shit but it gets the job done. It’s more about the concept of looking elegant and fancy more than the concept of getting wasted, in order to not look like a corrupted person. “Why would you godsend privileged, snoshy, live-and-breathe-in-money people deadass drink this instead of a nice Tequila?” Yep, not surprising.

Changbin protests, clearly annoyed. “Because we can afford that shit, just like how there’s a random, money dripping guitar in the dressing room,” you don’t even have to peek to know that he’s rolling his eyes to the point that they’re gonna fly out of their sockets. “But at the same time…true, I don’t like it either. That’s why I never get wasted whenever I go to parties like these, man, I miss college parties,”

God, this zipper is driving me nuts, you mentally curse when it gets stuck halfway and your arms are already giving up on you. Where’s Jennie when you’re in desperate need of her help?

“Whatever, let’s go find your sister and get you in a new tux,” you can hear Jisung pushes himself off the couch and settles his champagne down on the coffee table. “No offense towards her…I just fucking hate it on you,”

“Wait, guys—“ the moment you try to call out to them, they basically shut the door of the dressing room. “Well, shit,” you sigh, quickly realizing that 1) you don’t have your phone with you; 2) you can’t just run outside to grab it because what if Changbin and Jisung get back here at an untimely moment; and 3) there’s no way in hell you’re gonna ask one of them to zip it up for you. Now you’re forced to stay in a confined space with your only protection aka the red velvet curtain that looks way too cliché for your liking. Seriously, isn’t Jennie supposed to be here with you? It was her idea to put you in another dress, which you hate with a passion but you can never have the heart to tell her that.

The door swings open again and you exhale out of surprise, “Thank God, Jen. You’re here. Can you help me with my zipper? It’s stuck, and my hands gave up on me,” you immediately turn around, a sense of relief washing over you.

“Do you think Chan’s gonna hate seeing me in a dress again? I mean, I did call him an asshole when I wasn’t wearing one,” you stop to take in a breath, completely oblivious about the fact that it wasn’t Jennie who opened the door. “…but I was kinda acting like a bitch when I was wearing one too. I was so furious knowing that he’s seeing someone else behind my back that I wanted to bite his head off. And now I’m stuck here with him, his family, and that chick, in a hotel, on water, floating spontaneously somewhere near Singapore.”

Wordlessly, a pair of hands push the curtains aside to tug onto your zipper, slowly adjusting it and careful not to break it at the same time. Once your dress is zipped up all the way, you’re ready to turn your head and thank your friend. “Stay still, I’m not done yet,” your face automatically burns darkly when you come to a realization that it’s definitely not Jennie, most definitely not Jennie. In fact, it’s the person you’ve been planning on avoiding all night. Before you can decide when to make a run for it and save yourself from the imminent embarrassment, a silver necklace is draped around your neck, a diamond-studded buttery resting nicely right below your collarbones.

“Beautiful,” he says again in that honey-dripping voice of his. “You should wear dresses more,”

“Chan! You just scared the living daylights out of me,” you whisper harshly, turning on your heels and shove his chest. You definitely didn’t know what you were signing up for because it’s a grave mistake for you to accidentally look into his captivating eyes and you can see an entire universe in them. Absolutely magnificent. He looks impeccably good in his bejeweled black suit jacket, black turtleneck, and a silver chain around his neck, matching pieces of jewelry adorning his ears.

Chan wiggles his brows like the self-indulging person that he is, straightening his lapel dramatically. “Hmm, I don’t know if you can smell that, but it reeks of jealousy in here, and also hatred, but mostly jealousy.”

“Can. You. Zip. It. And. Call. It. A. Day.” With every word, you repeatedly slap his chest, but only to see him breaking into a fit of giggles in return. You almost forgot that he works out, whereas, you literally have zero ounces of muscles on your body. What a disgrace to your family. Like come on, even Felix has abs, and he never turns down Tacos Tuesday whenever he has dance practice with Hyunjin because their studio is conveniently situated right next to the best Mexican restaurant.

And the guacamole there? Phenomenal.

Chan teases, “I thought girls like you should be taught to act like a lady, not hitting the innocents.”

“Stop being a baby, Bang, it’s not like I’m gonna leave you with a bruise or two.”

Ah yes, this reminds Chan of the good old days of college where you’re both in that weird phase where you’re too much of a scaredy-cat not to talk to him on a last name basis because Changbin was an idiot for constantly leaving you two alone in the music room. “Why?” His lips curl up into a grin. “Because you can’t even open a jar of spaghetti sauce by yourself?”

That’s…that’s just a harsh truth. And now you feel like Regina George getting hit by a bus because life’s willing to give you a piece of its mind. You’re weak as fuck.

“It’s not fair when Felix has a six packs while eating tacos every other week, and I’m here looking like this with a green smoothie for breakfast every day,” you mumble bitterly, already too tired to argue with Chan because the party’s starting in half an hour. “I swear he’s on drugs, he always puts something into his daily Americano.”

Chan laughs breathlessly and cups your face with his hands, squishing your cheeks together. “I’m pretty sure it’s just stevia since Lix has a sweet tooth. On the bright side, I think you look just fine like how you are right now. I like you just the way you are. No modification is needed.” The audacity.

Your nostrils flare with heat, and your cheeks feel hot against Chan’s cool fingers. Again, Chan looks really good tonight and you’re not sure how much longer your heart can hold up before you pass out in his arms. “Uhm, so, just to make it clear,” you fiddle with your fingers nervously. “You and I-“

“Hey guys, how are things going—” Jennie pops her head into the dressing room and looks around, seeing no signs of Changbin or Jisung whatsoever. “What did I miss?” She looks at you cluelessly, then her lips automatically spread into a shit-eating grin when she sees how Chan’s cupping your cheeks. Just when you thought you can’t possibly blush any more darkly.

You awkwardly pull away when Chan clears his throat, retrieving his hands from your face. “Jen, just get out, I swear it’s nothing.” Yeah, as if Jennie aka the person who proclaims to be an expert at love because she’s snuck way too many boys into her closet, is gonna believe your pathetic attempt at an explanation.

“Oh, I’ll get out,” Jennie throws you a wink and you can see how Chan’s shuddering slightly at the dangerous glint in her eyes. “Now, don’t get too freaky in here okay kids, walls are pretty thin,” she asserts unhelpfully like the true friend that she is before shutting the door close. When you’re about to blurt out as many apologies as you can muster to Chan, a soft ‘click’ echoes through your eardrums. Your eyes grow alarmed almost immediately and so do Chan’s.

Did she just lock you inside the dressing room with Chan and expect something to happen? Kim. Fucking. Jennie.

“I hate you, and Jennie,” you tell Chan, not even bothering to hit him this time.

You’d rather take a nap on that couch over there than go out and party honestly. Parties only consist of two things most of the time: drinking and talking. But getting wasted is not an option tonight because you’re not about to spill rosé on the dress that Jennie adores the most. Although you do hate her ass right now.

And people don’t even hold proper conversations during parties unless they know each other, there are only small talks which are so….ugh. You don’t understand the purpose, the meaning of speaking to someone with a maximum of three sentences. You need a real, authentic, civil conversation about a specific topic that’s worth one’s time. Not just “how are you liking the party?” and “yeah, it’s dope, you?” or other gibberish nonsense.

Sometimes you feel bad for those people because their lives are staler than those crumbs of bread that pigeons feed off.

Chan tips his head back and releases the most obnoxiously loud series of laughter that you have to hold back the urge to kick him off the cruise. “You know you love me,”

“I don’t.”

“If you don’t then why would you dash through the airport like a madwoman just to hug me and tell me those three magic words?”

“Too bad, my brain just refused to recall that memory.”

He grabs your chin and angles it so that you’re directly looking into his eyes, dimpled smile, and all. “Then do I need to interfere and remind you?”

You don’t think you’re gonna make it through tonight if Chan keeps making your chest swell like this.

twelve. You and Chan have decided to change into more casual outfits and ditch the formal ones to strip the awkwardness and tension to a bare minimum. And by ditching, you mean hanging them up nicely so that Jennie won’t strangle you later. It is her dress after all. But you have every right to burn it since it was her idea to lock you up with Chan in a dressing room. Thank God it’s almost the size of her closet. Now, you’re both laying flat on your backs on the navy fuzzy carpet before the white couch, already moved the tiny coffee table away so that you won’t accidentally knock something that costs a fortune over. Kind of insanitary too but you can’t care less.

“Are you hungry?” Chan turns his head and asks you, warm brown eyes twinkling under the dimmed light.

“No,” you shake your head, and as if on cue, your stomach rumbles involuntarily. As Chan bursts into laughter, you quickly cover up your pink cheeks with the palms of your hands, internally groaning in pure agony. “Yes, I am hungry like a normal human being should because it’s already midnight, sue me.” You confess.

If only some of Ryujin’s leftovers were here. This is exactly why you refuse to eat out most of the time. Why bother hiring high-end chefs and having fancy dishes when you’ve already had a roommate who’s born into cooking? God, you miss her spaghetti.

Chan props his head onto one of his arms and looks down at you, a glint of mischief evident in his orbs. “You know what’s a whole fucking gourmet dish? Me,” he peels your hands away from your face with ease, holding onto them tightly to prevent you from smacking his chest.

You roll your eyes at him in the bitchiest way possible, yanking your hands away from his because every touch burns like fire and you’re not letting yourself be vulnerable tonight. If you still remembered some of the moves from the martial art classes that mom forced you into when you were in middle school, Chan wouldn’t stand a goddamn chance. You almost snap someone’s arm in half back then, but those days are long gone.

“You? Please, you’re like those piles of unwanted leftover vegetables that everyone keeps giving away to their most annoying relatives,” you start talking big with no intention of meaning it.

Chan’s not just a single dish, he’s an entire buffet. You could never imagine how it felt like for him to have thousands of letters and notes pouring out from his personal locker when he’s wrapping up for the day. Yeah, a total heartthrob. That’s why all of the dumb bitches on campus would always circle around him during breaks, no matter where he went. You were one of them too, you’re also a dumb bitch. Except, you didn’t need to stalk him, Changbin did all the work for you: inviting you to sit with them during lunch breaks, letting you ride the 4419 home alone with Chan, consistently hinting at Chan about your stupid feelings for him every two seconds,… In all honesty, you should be thanking him but you also want to throw him into a tank full of sharks.

Chan gasps, like audibly gasps as if you’re throwing shade at him, which you totally are. “You’re such an absurd, unreasonable, incongruous, preposterous-“ he pauses midway because he’s already running out of big words for ‘ridiculous’ to call you out on; it takes guts and Oscar-worthy acting to insult his godly appearance and impeccable visual, it really does. “—whatever, doesn’t matter. I know that you’re lying,” he singsongs before pushing himself off the carpet, stretching his limbs tiredly.

You think it’s almost two hours since you’re laying in a single spot, and you’re not risking having any parts of your body paralyzed so you get up, proceeding to do the same thing. “I can’t believe you didn’t have your phone with you,” you throw your hands up in exasperation, careful not to chip one of your nails. Lisa didn’t spend an hour on them for nothing. “And no one is even looking for us! Literally no one!” You can’t exactly blame your chaotic group of friends because they’ve probably fallen asleep since formal parties like these are so damn boring but Chan’s parents not freaking out about their missing son? And his “fiancé” too? That’s oddly concerning.

“You don’t have your phone with you either,” he snickers, hands reaching for the random acoustic guitar in the corner of the room. “I doubt that Lisa or Jisoo’s gonna get us out of here, I don’t even have faith in the two other parts of 3RACHA anymore.”

“What about your fiancé?” You ask him out of the blue, completely ignoring the sudden pang in your chest.

Chan shrugs nonchalantly, strumming some random chords with the instrument. “I broke it off with her, in front of my parents.”

“Cool then-“ you almost choke on your own saliva, “—hold up, did I just mishear you? Did you dump her?! In front of your parents?! What the hell is wrong with you?!” You heave, feeling your heart rate increasing by the nanosecond. Not only did Chan break down the walls you’ve been trying to build, he utterly eliminated the invisible barrier between your life and him (sorry Jaemin), and he knocked down the only obstacle left that’s in his way. Now, imagine two dots with a single line to connect them both. Everything’s as simple as that but your brain is already fried from coming up with one hundred and one ways to move in the slowest way possible.

Chan keeps strumming the guitar in his arms but purses his lips at your particular way of responding to his previous statement. “You know, a ‘thank you’ would be nice. And no, they didn’t disown me. I was like ‘fuck it’, and I told them everything. Not everything-everything, but like everything-everything, you feel me?”

No, I don’t fucking feel you but I can physically feel the shame and agony that’s slowly dawning on me you moron, you think to yourself, inhaling and exhaling deeply to prevent yourself from exploding like a ticking bomb.

“What did they say?”

“They didn’t say anything since they were too…uh, taken aback by the amount of information I guess..”

“Chan, I don’t think you were thinking straight—“

He interrupts you with a sad pout, sticking out his bottom lip. “Why are you talking about my parents and not this guitar?” This man is being ridiculous, as stubborn as a child.

“IT’S A GUITAR! RELAX ABOUT IT!”

“I GOT THIS FOR YOU!” Chan raises his voice slightly to catch you off guard and then sighs deeply. “Felix said you hadn’t played the guitar in years, but you were pretty good at it. So I wanted to surprise you, don’t you like it?”

“Chan, you what?” Your voice grows smaller and smaller until it’s only as audible as a whisper. “You didn’t have to do that- of course I like it! But- it’s just..” You stop talking completely to take a closer look at the acoustic guitar in his hands. It’s made of a reddish-brown type of timber with a satin finish, you can tell that the wood will age well through time and create more depth and warmth to the sound of the instrument. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted in a guitar, but it’s been way too long since you’ve touched one.

“I- I forgot how to play it after a while..”

Chan throws a wolffish wink in your direction as a reassurance that there wouldn’t be a problem with that. “I can show you how to if you like.”

“Moving too fast, moon is lighting up her skin,” Chan cuts you off softly with his angelic voice, and your heart is stuck in your throat, refraining you from barking back with anything. “She’s falling, doesn’t even know it yet. Heart is beating loud but she doesn’t want it to stop.”

Is he seriously trying to do this by singing a song? A fucking One Direction’s song?

“We’re only getting older, baby. And I’ve been thinking about it lately,” Chan’s voice slowly bleeds into the chorus, and you feel as if all of your pride and dignity have been thrown out the window because you’re completely frozen in your spot when he sits down next to you. Chan smiles throughout the lyrics seeing how you’re looking at him like he’s the only person left in the entire Milky Way, a strange warm sensation bubbling up in his stomach. “Does it ever drive you crazy, just how fast the night changes?”

“Everything that you’ve ever dreamt of, disappearing when you wake up,” Chan’s heart does an entirety of an acrobatic routine when he locks his eyes with yours. Seemingly to keep himself together, but the insides just feel like he’s being hung upside down on a tree with blood rushing to his face. This just has to be the cheesiest, sappiest, not-necessarily-scream-CB97 way to confess to someone but fuck it, he still needs to shoot his shot. “But there’s not to be afraid of. Even when the night changes…”

He pauses for a few seconds, “..it will never change me and you..” and finishes off smoothly, embarrassment growing more evident on his cheeks.

What did you tell yourself months ago, Y/N? Aren’t you tired of trying? How are you so sure that he wouldn’t do it again? Haven’t you had enough?

Yeah, you’d never know. And yes, you’ve had enough.

Well, to hell with that.

That’s when everything clicks in place. After all this time, after everything you’ve been through, after everything he’s done, you can finally see why you’ve been chasing him relentlessly knowing damn well that your heart is still in his hands, one wrong move and you’ll be utterly destroyed forever. Nobody compares to Chan. Nobody makes you smile like he does, nobody makes you laugh like he does and nobody makes you cry as hard as he does. It’s almost a truth that’s universally acknowledged that everything has been leading up to this specific moment, your heartbeat comes in sync, and two completely different worlds collide with each other.

You almost lost yourself all the way to him, but in him, you also found the way back to you. And how do you argue with the algorithm of falling for someone when the entire universe has conspired for the both of you to be together since forever?

“Uhm…so what-“

Before he can even finish his sentence, you abruptly grab a fistful of his hoodie and yank him towards you. Chan physically feels shivers run up his spine when your hand automatically interlocks with his, still fits like a glove. You kiss him with such desperation and tenderness it makes him feel as if you’ve been wandering this celestial sphere by yourself in the past century, yet he’s always had your heart. And he lets himself trust you with his in your hands once again because this is only the beginning. The paths ahead might not always be peaches and cream, but if it’s with you, he’s willing to stick with you ‘till the very end of it.

You’re the first one to break the kiss, managing to talk between short breaths. “Sorry, you were saying?”

Chan shakes his head and laughs breathlessly, wearing a dimpled on his face, “Nothing, I was just wondering if you’d take me back after everything.”

“After everything?” You merely chuckle when tiny bits of confusion in his orbs soon disintegrate into stardust, floating through the galaxy for eons. “A million times over, I will still choose you and let you rip my heart in half if that’s what it takes for me to stay by your side.”

Chan feels like he’s floating in midair, head all fuzzy and moonstruck. “Actually though…can I kiss you again?”

“And then nap time?” You let out a big yawn, making Chan toss his head back, laughing wholeheartedly.

“And then nap time,” he agrees, gingerly pulling you in by the waist while trying to stop himself from picturing the smirk on BamBam’s face when he opens the door in the morning.

Likewise, BamBam indeed opens the door to the dressing room early in the morning to make a move on his cleanup duty before Chan’s parents have a cardiac arrest. His smirks can’t possibly grow any wider when he sees you cuddle closely to Chan, palms resting on his chest while his hands are locked on your waistline. And BamBam sighs in relief because thank goodness he did shoot his shot.

[deathvsthemaiden]

3 4 6 11 13 17 & 23 !!! 🤠🌻

AAAAA ty Annie! 😳💌📖💕💕

3. top 5 books this year?

If Beale Street Could Talk by James Baldwin, The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison, Rhythm of War by Brandon Sanderson*, By Light We Knew Our Names by Anne Valente, and Bound by Evelyn DaSilva! And this is cheating but I read way less than usual this year and it’s hard to compile a top 5 because of it, so: I read the short story collections The Refugees by Viet Thanh Nguyen and How Long ‘til Black Future Month? by N.K. Jemisin and my faves from each respectively were I’d Love You To Want Me and The Elevator Dancer.

I’m gonna cheat again and list one manga (Spy x Family, unbelievablyyy satisfying and fun) and some of my favorite works by mutuals also. This year Eve @pinkafropuffs published plenty of fanfics in addition to Bound, but if I had to choose one recent favorite I’d say: May Flowers Bloom Wherever You Wander. Such a spectacular, magical end to a delightful series, everything fell together so so wonderfully 💞🌸 highly recommended reading her fanworks even if you’re not familiar with the fandoms!! Ari @haldimilks published Burnish, Burn, a Heathcliff centric Wuthering Heights story that I think about and revisit often<33 You also don’t necessarily have to read Wuthering Heights before reading it and the website it’s on classifies it as a 10 min read so! you have nothing to lose 👀🔥 Ilika @sheherazade wrote and it went unsaid. a Queen’s Thief one shot that blew me away! Her love for this series is contagious and she perfectly nailed the complicated feelings and sincerity between Gen and Irene imo 👑📚

*It came out this year but I only read the preview chapters, so like barely a fraction of this brick of a book, but like.... it’s the fourth book in the series and I know in my bones I’ll love it and I deliberately didn’t screen myself from 60% of spoilers because I’m so impatient and I’m so so EXCITED to finish it next year uff 🤒🤒 and hopefully do the same with the same author’s new novella, Dawnshard, also.

4. Any new authors you love?

Grady Hendrix (my kind of horror/supernatural thriller! love his ideas and he executes them very well too), Toni Morrison (I could read her prose forever. was legit sad for a bit when I reached the end of TBE)

6. anything you meant to read but never got to?

GQISJWJ so many books.... SO many it’s not even funny! I have this thing about reading a landmark number of books every year because anything else makes my brain itch uncomfortably so I was gonna read 5-10 more books than I did last year (125) and had to bite the bullet and chop it down to 75 books last month...the universe’s way of gently knocking me down a peg and reminding me the one thing I can never be is consistent 😌 (I’m kidding) anyway I complied a list of books I DEFINITELY plan to tackle come 2021 and a lot of it is compromised of books I had planned to read and/or started this year! Like The Count Of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas, The House at Baker Street by Michelle Birkby, Bending the Willow: Jeremy Brett as Sherlock Holmes by David Stuart Davies, The Book of Collateral Damage by Sinan Antoon, Thorn by Intisar Khanani, The Professor and Vilette by Charlotte Brontë, and The Bear and The Nightingale by Katherine Arden. (So mostly a bunch of Sherlock Holmes adjacent stuff and fairytale retellings.... mecore as hell 🤭)

11. favorite not newly published book?

If Beale Street Could Talk by James Baldwin hands down but also most of Sherlock Holmes in general. Some of my top favorites of what I’ve read so far are: A Study in Scarlet, A Scandal in Bohemia, The Beryl Coronet, The Speckled Band, The Norwood Builder, A Case of Identity, The Adventure of the Copper Beeches, and The Adventure of the Gloria Scott.

13. least favorite books of the year?

Mexican Gothic by Silvia-Moreno Garcia (I was SO excited for this one! it just felt unpolished in terms of plot direction and I questioned a lot of the writing choices... it’s title is basically just a concept and that’s what the book felt like and it unfortunately wasn’t satisfying), The Door in the Hedge by Robin McKinley (short story collection and McKinley’s works in general are hit or miss for me and this was a collection of misses 🤕 too much description and not enough plot or substance in these particular retellings that were played too straight, like no twists or changes leapt out at or hooked me), And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie (I went into it knowing the original title and more about Christie in general than I wished to, but even without that... I just did not feel for any of the characters and was relieved every time one of them finally bit the dust), A Woman is no Man by Etaf Rum (don’t get me started.... I’ll just say I’m unfortunately aware of why non-Muslims ate this one up and I don’t like it. Tragedy p*rn and not even of the author’s own experiences. Reinforces too many stereotypes and is not a story about Muslims I think American/Western/whatever readers need to be exposed to rn.)

17. surprised by how good they were:

My Brilliant Friend by Elena Ferrante (that end!! Very excited to see how the main characters’ lines progress in the next few books), The Southern Book Club’s Guide to Slaying Vampires by Grady Hendrix (this was SUPPOSED to be a popcorn read but I got SO invested it was magical), Pachinko by Min Jin Lee (one of those meandering books that follows generation after generation, dull at times but ultimately I liked the level of detail every other character got like? The author clearly knew what she was talking about and I enjoyed the overall picture she painted of the time periods the book takes place in. The duller parts were necessary and worth it), When The Emperor Was Divine by Julie Otsuka (I just loved the prose of this one and how quick a read it was. None of the main characters had names either which intrigued me a ton and worked in the story’s favor)

23. fastest time it took to read a book?

Mm. The audiobook to The Yellow Wallpaper was like 45(?) min long GWHSHWH I also read Dostoyevsky’s short story A Novel in Nine Letters, which was short and snappy, and I’m also in the middle of reading An Honest Thief and Other Stories, also by him, which I probs won’t finish till next year but the first story was also easy breezy. I’ve mostly read short stories in 1-2 sittings this year, to keep me sane in between homework and freaking out, so I could go on but those stick out to me!

[adamantiumdragonfly]

What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others.

|| Ida L. Hale ~ Agent Themis || Character Study ||

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Legacy is what is left. Born, lived, and died. When the final breath is taken, the legacy is what is left behind. A scar across the world showing generations to come what you did, who you are. It marks your moment in time. 

The Hale’s home was one such legacy. Firmly affixed to the same street in the same family’s hands for seven generations, the grand house on Belgrave Square was a scar onto its own. White, magnificent, and home. 

Ida had spent her whole life there, with the exception of a few months out of the year where they would travel to Scotland for a holiday at the estate. She had learned to walk there, learned everything that a well to do daughter of reasonable wealth ought to know. And there she learned of her family’s legacy. 

It was displayed proudly on the gold wallpaper in the parlor, in the shape of seven portraits. Grandfather, great uncles, and uncles occupied that place of honor, championing for the Hale name: one that meant success and strength. Military careers and political achievements. Their legacy was deeply steeped in English history, like the tea they drank in this very room, strong and dark but still well loved. Like their family gatherings for small pastries and that hot beverage, Ida had been taught early on how to act and behave. Like a good daughter and a good girl should. 

She would offer the tea, as a good hostess would. Ida would sit neatly, primly, like a good girl should. Ida would always smile and nod along with her father’s not so gentle pressure of the recent eligibility of certain family friends. Because a good daughter would marry well. 

Even in the 1930s, with women’s vote a fresh memory and the progression of the world, some things hadn’t changed. Legacy was the currency in which the elite dealt and Ida didn’t have any of her own. She could borrow from the pocket of her father and of her brothers. Daniel and Everett had power to spare. Sons of Colonel Arthur Hale were enough to grant them anything they desired, opening doors that would turn away Ida, though they bore the same name. 

She knew that this was a fact of life. She also knew she had to further the legacy of another, by giving life to another family’s future while never seeing a mark of her own. The portraits were of men: fathers and sons. But the mothers were never shown. Nor the daughters. The key to their continued life and they were not shown in a single frame. 

What would it take for her to be in one of those frames on that wall? Perhaps on a wall of her own? Ida Louise Hale with a legacy like her father’s but one that wouldn’t be stamped out like a spark. One that would last forever and ever. Like her father’s. Like every other Hale in history. 

It wasn’t academics or career. Even the eccentric choice she had gone with. Everett and Daniel had been called up, pushing a pin into this chapter of the Hale timeline. Marked with their bravery in 1939. They joined the Army and the Navy before the war had started, when it was just starting to brew. Ida hadn’t done it to be like them. She had joined the SOE to become better than them. Some women would become nurses and some would keep the homefires burning but Ida had spent too long staring at her great-grandfather’s military uniform to not snatch up the first opportunity of service. 

A man at a party had found her in the corner, in a deep conversation with a friend in French. Ida could acclimate to climates and atmospheres in the social scene, a skill that her mother had passed on. It was survival for women. 

“You speak French well,” The man had said. 

“I should hope so,” Ida had laughed, in that bell-like tone that was trained into her. Lillian Hale had taught her how to be a good hostess and an even better flirt. Women didn’t have a legacy but they did have appearances and character. “My parents spent a fortune on a tutor.” 

The question had turned into an invitation with the blink of an eye. An office in Whitehall, then on a train to Scotland where her life of reasonable comfort and ease was replaced with grease and long runs in the fog. But being remembered for more than the life you brought had a heavy price. Sweat dripping down Ida’s back and fingers calloused from the sharp metal of the gun was the payment due. 

Gone were the smooth hands that had never worked for more than charity, replaced with hands deft with guns, radios, and paper bound secrets. Her mother had spoken of the holidays she had gone on in France as a child but the world described to Ida, wrapped up in blankets and tucked neatly in her bed, wasn’t the one she walked with caution. Paris was only three months occupied but the curfew wasn’t quite the glittering city Lillian had described. 

The gardens were still lovely, just as her mother had promised. Flowers still in bloom in mid-August though the heat was nearly unbearable. The gray uniforms must have been stifling for the Germans but Ida’s blue skirt and blouse would keep her cool. She sat on the bench beyond the lilac bushes, waiting for her contact who had promised to meet her in a cafe down the road. There was no point in arriving early, not when meeting anyone to pass information was dangerous enough. 

Pigeons flitted around her feet, an ever present pest in Paris, gobbling up what crumbs remained from some kinder pedestrian’s birdseed. Ida didn’t like to feed the creatures, who were sure to swarm if food was in sight. Ida had grown used to them, almost, in the nearly six months she had spent on the continent. Dropped in Belgium and traveling on foot to Paris, Ida had only the guise of a student and the orders to establish a network of contacts. 

The sea of feathers parted in wake of a man, around her age, walking confidently towards her. His posture gave a sense of youth and enthusiasm that was furthered by the look in his eye. He marched straight towards her, never a foot wavering. 

There was nothing menacing in his gate that would suggest a Nazi secret police or someone with an intent to harm. But he never wavered. The man sat beside her, ignoring the pocketbook and stack of books between them, the universal sign for occupancy. 

He smiled at her, bright and almost as unwavering as his march towards her. She raised her eyebrows. 

“I believe there is a less crowded bench over there,” Ida said, pointing to the other side of the park. 

“Two isn’t a crowd, is it?” He said, eyes twinkling. “And there are no pigeons over there.” 

Pigeons. Of course, he chose to sit directly beside her for the bird watching.

 Ida shifted. She had been used to overeager men at social gatherings and had learned how to read them in Scotland during training. This one offered no ill will that she could recognize, just a set of brown eyes that were melting in the August heat. He was handsome, in an endearing way. But Ida was still suspicious. 

“Are you a student?” He asked, not missing a beat despite the steady look Ida was leveling. She wasn’t a mean spirit by nature but she didn’t have time to engage in pleasantries with a Parisian, not when she would meet the key to establishing a network in France for lunch in a few minutes. 

“Are you?” She asked, speeding up the small talk script that was known to everyone and all too familiar to her. Ida had spent hours working on etiquette as a girl and had memorized every rule in the book. She also knew when to break them. 

“Yes, at the University of Paris,” He said. “I’m Marc, by the way. A pleasure to meet you?” 

“Is it?” Ida asked. Was it a pleasure when he had sat on her bench, encroaching upon her solitude and started to inquire about pigeons.

“Yes, it is. That’s why I said it.” 

“And your name is?” He pressed further, refusing to take silence as an answer. He didn’t seem to understand the subtle social cues. Ida would have to be more direct in her approach. 

“Louise,” She said, smiling just as brightly as the grin he had offered a few moments before. Marc blinked, as if shocked by her sudden switch. His mouth hung open as she tossed a lock of hair over her shoulder. “Tell me, what brings you to my bench?” 

“A beautiful girl,” he said, grinning again. 

Ida glanced around. The park was empty other than the man beside her. “I don’t see her, shall I keep you company while you wait?” 

“That would be very kind of you,” 

Ida turned back to face the pathway, letting the slight breeze blow the hair off the back of her neck where it clung with sweat. She was flushed, by the heat, not this man’s presence. She was frustrated by him, that’s what this was. Ida had one job in Paris: establish a network of contacts and informants who were ardently Anti-Nazi. Once that was done, she would have a functioning legacy that would continue to provide information to help the war. That was it. That was her plan. 

But this Marc didn’t want her to have a plan, it seemed. He kept chattering, trying to compliment her in a thousand different ways. Her watch was nearing noon and she wouldn’t have much time. 

“Oh look,” Ida said quickly. “Here comes your pretty girl now,” 

She gestured toward a small blonde, who hastened up the path towards them. 

“That’s my sister,” He said, chuckling at the girl. 

“Enjoy your family, catch up,” Ida said, standing and gathering her books to leave.  “ I would hate to interrupt.” 

He touched her arm, stopping her from running down the path of the gardens towards the cafe where Genevieve De Gualle was sure to be waiting. “You never answered, are you a student?” 

“Yes,” She said, allowing a small slip. Why was she telling him her legend? A stranger off the streets who wanted to watch pigeons and flirt shamelessly? “At the University of Paris.” 

It was all a lie. Papers provided by the British government made a good cover but not the truth. Marc didn’t seem to care, just grinning again. His smile was too bright and his enthusiasm continued to rise, the longer he looked at her. 

“I’m sure I’ll see you around, Louise,” He said. 

“I’m sure you’ll try,” She said, and against her better judgment, she smiled. Ida turned and marched out of sight around a lilac bush.